Animal Behavior - How and Why Animals Do The Things They Do (PDFDrive)
Animal Behavior - How and Why Animals Do The Things They Do (PDFDrive)
ISBN: 978–0–313–39870–4
EISBN: 978–0–313–39871–1
18 17 16 15 14 1 2 3 4 5
This book is also available on the World Wide Web as an eBook.
Visit www.abc-clio.com for details.
Praeger
An Imprint of ABC-CLIO, LLC
ABC-CLIO, LLC
130 Cremona Drive, P.O. Box 1911
Santa Barbara, California 93116-1911
This book is printed on acid-free paper
Manufactured in the United States of America
Contents
Preface v
Glossary 413
About the Editors and Contributors 435
About the Editorial Board 439
Index 441
Preface
Most people are interested in the behavior of animals, but the scientists who
study animal behavior, exemplified by the authors of the volumes of this book,
use time-honored methods of hypothesis testing in their attempts to under-
stand why and how animals do the things they do. As stated in many of the
chapters in this book, the scientific study of animal behavior owes a tremen-
dous debt to Niko Tinbergen, who turned his boyhood naturalist’s curiosity
about the world of animals into a career that was both highly productive and
extremely influential. This book is dedicated to Tinbergen.
Tinbergen proposed his famous four questions in his 1963 paper “On Aims
and Methods in Ethology” (Zeitschrift für Tierpsychologie, 20, 410–433). Tin-
bergen noted that a full understanding of behavior must include both “proxi-
mate” and “ultimate” explanations. “How” questions are answered by
proximate explanations of the developmental history and mechanisms that
control behavior. “Why” questions are answered by ultimate explanations for
the adaptive value and evolutionary history of behavior. Taken together, this
approach has produced a tremendous amount of research and lots of answers,
but also even more questions. The chapters in this book have been written to
demonstrate the dynamic nature of the scientific study of animal behavior. We
hope that you will find each chapter an informative and enjoyable glimpse into
the curious minds of behavioral scientists.
As behavioral scientists, we have been inspired and influenced by many
who came before us. To paraphrase Sir Isaac Newton, we have seen a little fur-
ther by standing on the shoulders of giants. But we have also benefitted from
vi PREFACE
many contemporaries, some of whom have recently passed away much too
soon. We could name many of them, but a few who stand out to us are Val
Nolan, Devra Kleiman, Penny Bernstein, Al Dufty, and Chris Evans. We
should note that Chris died while writing a chapter for Volume 3, and we
are therefore proud that one of his last contributions to animal behavior will
appear in this book. We also dedicate this book to Val, Devra, Penny, Al,
and Chris, our friends and colleagues.
SPECIAL FEATURES
Each chapter is written by active researchers who are experts in the subjects
they cover. Because science tends to read like a foreign language, we have
included some special features to help you understand what our contributors
are telling you. First, our contributors try to explain why they are interested
in their topics and how they go about asking and answering the questions they
consider. Second, the technical terms (vocabulary) are listed in bold italics
and are defined in the glossary at the end of each volume. Finally, each chapter
also includes a list of the references cited within it. If you are interested, you
can try to read some of these research papers. Some can be found using a com-
puter search—Google Scholar is one way to find some of them. Another way
is to use the name of the author to search for the author’s website—many
authors provide PDF copies of their papers on their websites. One last way is
to visit a university library and ask to do a computer search using their elec-
tronic data bases. You will probably need to get special permission to do so,
however.
1
INTRODUCTION
Interest in animal behavior is at an all-time high. Animal behavior is the subject of
documentaries (e.g., March of the Penguins), animated children’s adventures (e.g.,
Finding Nemo), TV shows (e.g., Dog Whisperer), TV series (e.g., Shark Week), and
entire cable networks (e.g., Animal Planet). But where does the information come
from? Information about the behavior of animals comes from scientific study,
and the field of animal behavior is now well established. In this chapter I will
briefly describe the three major methods (observations, experiments, and model-
ing) that researchers use to study animal behavior, and I will organize it around
the process by which research is designed. My goal is a general introduction with
some examples and suggestions for further reading rather than an exhaustive dis-
cussion with endless references. I write this chapter in honor of my role model,
Niko Tinbergen, who established the framework for the study of animal behavior
(see Chapter 2). Figure 1.1 shows some of the animals he studied.
Figure 1.1. Drawings of some of the animals studied by Niko Tinbergen. (Redrawn by
Emmerson Fuller)
Once testable predictions have been identified, the next step is to choose a
research design, including a statistical method, to test the predictions.
Research design and statistical analyses are both very large and complex topics
well beyond the scope of this chapter.
THIS IS HOW WE DO IT : THE SCIENTIFIC STUDY OF ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 5
in fact, fit the rule, then you have showed that the hypothesis is incorrect—you
have disproved the hypothesis. In contrast, even if you double the last number
100 times, you still have not proven the doubling rule because the predictions
fit lots of other rules (e.g., “a number larger than the last”). It is only by elimi-
nating some possible hypotheses that we learn something. So, in our example,
if you want to test the doubling hypothesis, then you should propose a num-
ber that is not double the last number. For example, after 32, you could pro-
pose 63. What happens when you find out that 63 fits? Obviously, the rule is
not “double the last number.”
The benefits addressed by the first two questions must be weighed against
the cost considered by the third. A valuable tool in determining this balance
is the Guidelines for the Treatment of Animals in Research and Teaching, pro-
duced jointly by the Animal Behavior Society (ABS) and the Association for
the Study of Animal Behaviour and published each January in the journal Ani-
mal Behaviour. These guidelines are also included in the ABS Handbook,
10 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Observational Sampling
Behavior occurs in a continuous stream, but we must somehow break it
into categories to make measurements, and we need names for these categories
of behavior. Behavior can be described by its structure (the postures and
movements) or by its consequences (the effects). Structural descriptions are
objective in that they do not involve an interpretation by the observer, but
they can be needlessly detailed and subtle. Describing behavior by its conse-
quences is not as detailed, but it runs the risk of misinterpreting the conse-
quences altogether. Neutral or descriptive labels avoid this problem. For
example, nestling red-winged blackbirds adopt specific postures and call and
are subsequently fed by their parents. This behavior could be described in
great detail as a series of movements, postures, and sounds, or it could be
called “begging,” assuming that an unambiguous operational definition is
included. Another form of description uses spatial relationships (where and
with whom) rather than what an animal does. For example, the parent red-
winged blackbird bringing food to its nestlings could be said to approach
and depart the nest.
Observations of behavior can be divided into three types of measurements.
Latency is the amount of time until a behavior occurs, whereas duration is
how long a behavior lasts. Frequency (rate) is how often a behavior occurs in
a given amount of time. Measurements can also be categorized into nominal,
ordinal, interval, and ratio scales. A nominal scale measurement is a set of
names or mutually exclusive categories (e.g., resting, displaying, fighting).
Ordinal measurements can be ranked from first to last (e.g., highest, second,
lowest). Truly numeric measurements can be on an interval scale or a ratio
scale. Both interval and ratio measurements can be placed along a scale that
gives specific meaning to differences (i.e., the difference between 1 and
2 minutes is exactly the same as between 11 and 12 minutes), but the interval
scale lacks a true zero point (e.g., time of day, day of the year) whereas the
ratio scale has a true zero point (e.g., duration, distance).
Recording Method
Choosing rules for systematic recording of behavior is critical to designing
observational studies, and choices involve two distinct levels: sampling rules
(which subjects to watch and when) and recording rules (how behavior is
THIS IS HOW WE DO IT : THE SCIENTIFIC STUDY OF ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 13
Recording Medium
Our next consideration is the medium used to make recordings. These days,
video recording with camera-equipped cell phones is common (think You-
Tube), but other alternatives include voice recorders, automatic data recorders,
and check sheets. Note that high-tech methods are not necessarily better than
paper-and-pencil methods (field notes and check sheets). For example, video
and audio recordings have the advantage of instant replay, which allows you to
go back and recheck the recording to obtain more accurate measures of the
behaviors. Unfortunately, however, the field of view of a video camera is lim-
ited, and once you make a recording you then have to analyze it, which can be
extremely time consuming. When I began studying red-winged blackbird
behavior in 1973, I wanted to construct a time budget of male activities as well
as to calculate frequencies of specific behavior categories. As a graduate student
with limited resources, I used paper-and-pencil methods to do continuous
recording by setting up a data sheet with 15 rows, each representing one minute
and consisting of 60 equally spaced dots, and a shorthand code for each behavior
(Figure 1.2). I recorded time budget categories by noting when each started and
ended (duration), and events by writing a letter code for each category (e.g., “S”
for song, “3” for high-intensity song spread display). Armed with a clipboard,
wind-up stopwatch (think of the TV show 60 Minutes), and lots of pencils (first
rule of field work—always have more than one pencil), I spent my mornings
observing and recording the behavior of male red-winged blackbirds. These
days, however, there are automated ways to record behavioral data.
Data Analysis
The final methodological questions to answer are “How much data should
I collect?” and “How should I analyze my data?” Answering these questions
14 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 1.2. A data sheet used to record the behavior of male red-winged blackbirds.
Each row of dots represents one minute of observation. Time budget data were
recorded with codes (e.g., F ¼ flight) and notations (e.g., FORAGE, CHASE,
COURT) for each category, and durations were denoted with squiggly lines (e.g.,
during the first minute the male was in flight from the 9th to the 16th second). Events
were recorded with codes (e.g., FS ¼ flight song, S ¼ unseen song, 0 ¼ incipient song
spread, 1 ¼ low-intensity song spread, 2 ¼ medium-intensity song spread, 3 ¼ high-
intensity song spread, FCC ¼ flight call complex, Tsy ¼ trespass by a second-year
male) to indicate when they occurred. Other information (e.g., approach neighbor, ti-
ti-ti courtship call) was also noted. I then used the information on each data sheet to
calculate the proportion of time the male spent on his territory and to construct a time
budget (how much time was devoted to: singing and defending the territory, foraging,
flying, courting, preening, and resting) while he was on his territory. I also calculated
rates of singing, alarm calling, and trespassing and the average intensity of song spread
displays (Yasukawa, 1979).
thoroughly is beyond our scope, but a rule of thumb is to gather as much data
as possible given the logistical constraints. Beginning students of behavior
often make the mistake of focusing so narrowly on only one behavior that they
miss out on other potentially interesting or important information. For exam-
ple, say that you are studying whether a hypothetical male insect is more likely
THIS IS HOW WE DO IT : THE SCIENTIFIC STUDY OF ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 15
“OK,” the guy says. “You can flip the coin four times, but then you have to
decide whether to buy it or not.”
That may seem reasonable, but a bit of math will show that four flips will
not provide much useful information. If you flip a regular (not magic) coin
four times, what possible outcomes could you get? There are 16 unique
arrangements of four coin flips.
0 heads: TTTT
1 head: H T T T, T H T T, T T H T, TTTH
2 heads: H H T T, H T H T T H T H T T H H H T T H T H H T
3 heads: HHHT HHTH HTHH THHH
4 heads: HHHH
Thus, of the 16 possible outcomes, 5 have at least three heads, and 5/16 ¼
0.3125. In other words, almost 1/3 of the time you would expect to get a
result that would seem to support the magic-coin hypothesis even though
you have flipped an ordinary coin.
Let us put the parable of the magic coin in statistical testing terms. Tradi-
tional statistical analyses use a null hypothesis to calculate probabilities, as we
did above with coin flips. Our null hypothesis is that we are flipping an ordi-
nary coin. These analyses also employ an alternate hypothesis, in this case that
we are flipping a magic coin. Statistical inference tests are used to help us to
decide whether to choose the null or alternate hypothesis. Unfortunately for
us, any decision could be right or wrong, and because we could either decide
to buy or not, there are two ways that we could be wrong. In statistical terms,
there are two types of error: type I error (that we buy an ordinary coin because
we think it is magic), and type II error (that we do not buy a magic coin
because we think it is ordinary). In the case of research, this means we could
conclude that our hypothesis is supported when, in fact, it the hypothesis is
wrong, or we could reject a hypothesis when, in fact, it is supported.
Statistical inference tests are designed to calculate the probability of making
a type I error, so they tell us how likely it is that an ordinary coin would pro-
duce results that seem magic. We want to avoid making a type I error (we do
not what to pay $10 for an ordinary silver dollar), so we decide to buy the coin
only if it is very unlikely that a regular coin would produce magic results. In
our calculation above, that probability was 0.3125 that if we flip a regular coin
(one that comes up heads exactly half the time) four times, we would get three
or four heads. About 31 percent seems too risky for us to conclude that the
coin is actually magic, but three or four heads are the only results that would
support the magic coin hypothesis. What happened?
THIS IS HOW WE DO IT : THE SCIENTIFIC STUDY OF ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 17
What we need is a way to calculate the probability that the coin is magic,
but we have no way to do that calculation because we would need to know
exactly how often the magic coin comes up heads, so we cannot calculate the
type II error. We can calculate the statistical power of the test, however. Power
is the probability of avoiding a type II error, so we want lots of power because
we really want to buy a coin that is magic. In this example, power is very low,
which is why flipping four times was not very useful. What would increase
power? Increasing the sample size by flipping the coin 40 times would provide
more power because the probability of a regular coin coming up heads 30 or
more times is low (0.0032). Would you buy the coin if it came up heads 30
out of 40 times? Perhaps you would, but can you say with absolute certainty
that you got a magic coin? No, because 32 of 10,000 times a regular coin
would also produce that result.
One final complication is that, like internal and external validity, type I and
type II errors trade off—when one is low, the other is high. If we want very low
probability of making a type I error, then we will have a very high probability of
making a type II error, and vice versa. For this reason, convention dictates that
we choose the alternate hypothesis when type I error is ≤0.05 (5%)—meaning
that if we repeated the experiment 100 times, only 5 times or fewer would we
obtain the same results simply by chance—and we choose the null hypothesis
when type I error is >0.05. When animal behaviorists test hypotheses, they
almost always use statistical inference tests to help them interpret their results.
I often have students say that they want to study animal behavior, but they
are not interested in statistics in particular and math in general. These days a
working knowledge of statistical inference testing is required to study animal
behavior from a scientific perspective.
I should emphasize that, even when P < 0.05 (or even < 0.001), we can
never be absolutely, positively sure that our hypothesis is correct because there
is always some small probability that we did, in fact, obtain these results by
chance. Therefore, although we can definitely reject hypotheses, we can never
absolutely prove them (Popper, 1959). At best, we can only say that our
results strongly support our hypothesis. For example, consider the hypothesis
that all elephants are gray. We can go out and count thousands of elephants
and find that they all are gray (this strongly supports our hypothesis). But sup-
pose that suddenly we find one more elephant (perhaps an albino mutant) and
it is white. That one elephant would be enough to disprove our hypothesis—
we can say with certainty that not all elephants are gray. And the fact that we
initially found 10,000 gray elephants cannot prove that all elephants are gray.
Once the methodological decisions have been made, it is finally time to
observe behavior, and then to analyze the data statistically. Throughout these
18 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
changes with different stimulus objects, then the two factors are not indepen-
dent. Even more complex (e.g., three-factor and four-factor) designs are also
possible but are beyond our scope.
not realize how common models are in everyday life (or in animal behavior).
My favorite analogy for a model is a map (Singer, 1996). Think about giving
directions to your house to someone who has never been there. A map of
the route could be a few lines representing the streets to take and maybe a
few major landmarks. This simple map is a representation of reality, but it is
not meant to be real. No one would confuse this map with the part of the
Earth that is travelled to get to your house, but it does an adequate job of
describing relevant aspects. Like maps, models are simplified versions of real-
ity. In the early days of animal behavior, some models were literally that—
you could build them out of real materials and then investigate their proper-
ties. Konrad Lorenz created a famous example with his psychohydraulic model
of motivation, which resembled a traditional water closet (a water storage tank
above and connected to a toilet bowl with a pull handle to flush it). Simple
models can also be more conceptual such as diagrams with boxes and connect-
ing arrows to indicate related processes and effects, or graphical representa-
tions of functional relationships (e.g., the polygyny-threshold model of
Gordon Orians [1969] or Robert Trivers’s [1972] model of parental
investment).
These days, modeling is more formal and mathematical. A mathematical
model uses equations to describe the essential aspects of behavior. The equa-
tions can be solved mathematically to examine how behavior might operate
under very clearly described circumstances, which are called the model
assumptions. Despite the mathematical nature of these methods, they are still
used to test predictions of hypotheses, so they are relevant to us. In animal
behavior, a commonly used method is game theory, although other methods
are used as well.
Game theory was devised by John Nash (made famous in the movie A
Beautiful Mind) to describe economic conflict between countries, businesses,
and even individual people. This modeling approach was introduced to animal
behavior by John Maynard Smith (1976), who first used it to analyze contests
between rivals who are competing for an important resource such as food,
territory, or mates. Maynard Smith was trying to answer a question that had
been puzzling animal behaviorists for many years: “Why do animals use dis-
play (like disputing neighbors shaking their fists at each other) to settle dis-
putes rather than more violent means?” At one time the answer was,
“Because fighting would produce lots of injuries, which would be bad for the
species.” Explanations that rely on advantages to the species or other groups
of individuals are called group selection hypotheses, but evolutionary analyses
in the 1960s and 1970s showed that these hypotheses were usually inadequate
—they could not explain why display was the best way for an individual to
22 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
settle contests. If a displayer comes up against a fighter, the fighter would win
every time, even if fighting were disadvantageous for the species as a whole.
Maynard Smith’s (1976) solution was the classic “hawk-dove game.”
As with all modeling studies, the hawk-dove game starts with assumptions:
• Pairs of animals engage in contests over a resource, and in each contest a winner
takes possession of the resource.
• Winning increases the fitness (survival, mating success, or reproductive success) of
the winner.
• An injury sustained in a contest reduces fitness.
• If a contest continues for a long time, both contestants experience a reduction in
fitness as a result of wasted time and energy.
• Finally, each animal always employs (plays) a particular strategy (a method of com-
peting) in all contests.
strategy will become so common that most contests involve the new strategy
playing itself. At this point, if the new strategy still has higher fitness than
the now rare old one, the new strategy will continue to spread. Eventually,
all animals in the group will play the new strategy. In this case, the old strategy
is clearly not an ESS.
Is there an ESS in the hawk-dove game? Suppose that we have a group of
doves. If hawk cannot invade this population, then dove is an ESS. Inciden-
tally, this situation is the one that group selection (for the good of the species)
explanations would predict, so our game theory model allows us to test the
group selection hypothesis. It should be clear to you, however, that dove can-
not resist invasion by hawk because hawk would win every encounter with
dove, and therefore, hawk will spread. If we start with an all-hawk group, we
get a similar result. Dove can invade because it is rare initially, so it plays
against hawk almost all of the time. Under these conditions, dove initially does
better than hawk because dove does not pay the cost of injury, while in con-
trast, every time hawk plays hawk, there is a high probability of injury. Our
game-theory model predicts that neither strategy is an ESS as long as the cost
of injury to hawk is high and dove can never win against hawk.
If neither strategy is an ESS, what will happen to our all-dove and all-hawk
groups? Maynard Smith (1976) showed that a mixture of the two strategies is
a stable equilibrium. What is a stable equilibrium? In this case it is the mixture
of hawks and doves at which neither strategy does better than the other on
average. In game-theory terms, this equilibrium is called a mixed ESS.
Hawk and dove are certainly not the only ways that an animal might
behave in a contest. Another possible strategy is called retaliator, which dis-
plays against dove but fights (retaliates) when attacked by hawk. Again assum-
ing that the cost of injury to hawk is high, retaliator is an ESS against both
dove and hawk.
In some cases, however, the relationships are too complex for mathematical
(analytical) solutions, so researchers can also use simulations to investigate
behavior. Like mathematical models, simulations attempt to model a particu-
lar behavioral system to gain insight into how the system works, but they
require a computer (or even a network of computers) programmed to perform
the tedious calculations and to display the results in a useful way. The first
simulation was of a nuclear explosion for the Manhattan Project of World
War II. Simulation was used because the scale and complexity of a nuclear
explosion was far greater than blackboards and mathematical models could
handle. Some simulations such as stochastic dynamic programs (Mangel &
Clark, 1988, Hutchinson & McNamara, 2000) and genetic algorithms
(Holland, 1992) follow a specified procedure, but others are purpose-built to
24 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
CONCLUSIONS
For those of us who have dedicated our lives to the study of animal behavior,
the goal remains explaining how and why animals do what they do. An excel-
lent example of this process, written without technical obfuscation, is More
Than Kin and Less Than Kind by Douglas Mock (2004). Our use of the meth-
ods outlined in this chapter have produced lots of valuable information, but
perhaps the most important point to make is that much more remains poorly
understood or completely unknown. Animal behaviorists will continue to use
the general methods described here and elsewhere to produce answers to that
most general question, “How and why do animals do the things they do?”
You will read many accounts of this process in the chapters that follow.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank the many people who contributed to my development
as a behavioral biologist, most especially my thesis advisors Val Nolan Jr. and
John M. Emlen, my postdoctoral advisor Peter Marler, and my friends and
colleagues at the Rockefeller University Field Research Center.
Tillberg, C. V., M. D. Breed, & S. J. Hinners (2007). Field and Laboratory Exercises in
Animal Behavior. London: Academic Press.
Tinbergen, N. (1963). On aims and methods of ethology. Zeitschrift für Tierpsycholo-
gie, 20, 410–433.
Trivers, R. L. (1972). Parental investment and sexual selection. In B. Campbell (ed.),
Sexual Selection and the Descent of Man, 1871–1971 (pp. 136–179). Chicago:
Aldine.
van Emden, H. (2008). Statistics for Terrified Biologists. Malden, MA: Blackwell
Publishing.
Whitlock, M. C. & D. Schluter (2009). The Analysis of Biological Data. Greenwood
Village, CO: Roberts and Company.
Yasukawa, K. (1979). Territory establishment in red-winged blackbirds: Importance
of aggressive behavior and experience. Condor, 81, 258–264.
Yasukawa, K. (1981). Song and territory defense in the red-winged blackbird. Auk,
98, 185–187.
Yasukawa, K. (2010). Experiment, observation, and modeling in the lab and field. In
M. Breed & J. Moore (eds.), Encyclopedia of Animal Behavior (pp. 679–685).
Oxford, UK: Academic Press.
Yasukawa, K. & W. A. Searcy (1986). Simulation models of female choice in red-
winged blackbirds. American Naturalist, 128, 307–318.
Zar, J. H. (2010). Biostatistical Analysis. Fifth Edition. Upper Saddle River, NJ:
Prentice Hall.
• What are the values of the test statistic and their associated probability?
• Are the results statistically significant?
• How powerful was the test?
• What is the answer to your biological question?
An Example
One way to help you to understand the process of statistical analysis is to work
through the following example. Suppose you want to compare the mating suc-
cess of two kinds of male frogs. Your data consist of numbers of mates acquired
by two groups of subjects: males in one group were calling when observed, but
those in the other group were not calling when observed. On average, 20 calling
frogs attracted five mates each, although some calling males attracted more and
others fewer (mating success varied). In contrast, the 20 silent males attracted a
mean of three mates, again with variation in mating success.
• For one of the predictions, what are the null and alternative hypotheses of a statistical
test?
• Is your hypothesis one-tailed (expected effect in one direction) or two-tailed (expected
effect in either direction)?
• What are the assumptions of each test, and are they met?
A standard t-test assumes random samples, equal variances, and normality.
(Note: a variant of the t-test allows us to test two samples with unequal var-
iances.) Although I have not discussed doing so, you would need to test
both assumptions to decide whether they are met in this case. For example,
you could use a Bartlett F-test for equality of variances, and a Shapiro-Wilk
W-test of normality. Such testing is beyond the scope of this chapter,
however.
Nonparametric tests such as the Mann-Whitney U-test do not have these
restrictive assumptions, although they do assume random sampling. Nonpara-
metric tests are also less powerful than corresponding parametric tests if the
assumption of normality is met.
• What are the values of the test statistic and their associated probability?
You would calculate (or have a computer calculate) the value of t or U,
depending on which test we have chosen. This value of this test statistic is then
used to calculate an associated probability, the P-value (probability of a type I
error—incorrectly rejecting HO).
INTRODUCTION
When we think of animal behavior today, visions of zoological parks, Animal
Planet or National Geographic Channel television programs, or some wildlife
observation experiences of our own come to mind. Many individuals reading
an essay such as this are likely interested in the modern study of animal behav-
ior. The purpose of this chapter is to explain the history of animal behavior
and how we got to the current, rich history of a discipline known by different
groups as animal behavior, ethology, or comparative psychology, depending
on training and perspective. This includes the acquisition and accumulation of
knowledge concerning animals and their actions over many millennia and led
eventually to the systematic collection of natural history information begin-
ning before Greek and Roman times and continuing today. The topics
covered build from this early natural history to the scientific study of animal
behavior, which effectively commenced in the nineteenth century, grew
stronger in the first half of the twentieth century, and exploded along several
pathways during the final decades of that century. In the chapter, we also
explore some of the ways that information about animal behavior is acquired
and some of the techniques, both methodological and statistical, that scientists
use to investigate animal activities and their importance. The chapter
34 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
concludes with brief comments on what lies ahead for the study of animal
behavior.
instances, animals. Jewelry for body adornment contains animal forms and
representations, emphasizing the importance of these animals with which the
prehistoric humans shared their world. For examples of these art forms and
information on their interpretation, see: (1) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
Prehistoric_art, (2) http://ezinearticles.com/?Religious-Jewelry:-Prehistoric
-But-Persistent-Symbol-of-Spirituality&id=5880415, and (3) http://art
historyresources.net/ARTHprehistoric.html.
Cave paintings are known from a variety of locations on all of the conti-
nents except Antarctica and date from as far back as 30,000 BCE to recent
centuries. These artworks are a primary resource for interpreting the interac-
tions of early humans with the other animals sharing their world. Two major
types of art are known: (1) pictographs are, as the name implies, pictures
painted on rocks, cave walls, or other generally protected surfaces and
(2) petroglyphs are areas where rock has been chipped, pecked, or scraped to
produce a recognizable form or symbol. Excellent examples of the ways in
which animals were depicted can be found on the Internet. For examples,
see (1) http://www.petroglyphs.us/ and (2) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/
Cave_painting.
Often the animals shown are species such as ungulates, bears, or similar-
sized mammals that served as food. Other depictions represent symbolic
connections between the people and particular groups of animals; the clan
concept used by many Native American tribes often involves animal symbols,
and these are depicted in pictographs and petroglyphs. From some of the rock
and cave art, scientists can interpret aspects of both the hunting techniques
used, such as cooperation in driving animals off cliffs, and the social structure
of the group. In other cases the rock art has clear religious meaning. For in-
stance, we know of depictions of creation myths, gods and goddesses, and
what likely are religious rituals. These finds tell us things about human-
animal interactions and also about the behavior of our ancestors.
A key feature of early human civilizations was the beginning of domestica-
tion of both animals and plants. Knowledge of plants resulted in better and
more reliable stocks of food. A cumulative knowledge of such things as the
behavior of insect pests, rodent damage to crops, and consumption of grains
and other foods by wild animals all contributed to the ability of the early peo-
ples to engage in successful, though by today’s standards primitive, agriculture.
Animals were domesticated as well; much of this occurred over many genera-
tions and involved considerable knowledge gained via observations of wild ani-
mals. Some animals, such as goats and cattle, provided meat, milk, hides, and
bones for tool making. Others animals, horses for example, served to carry
goods and people. Finally, some wild canids, and later likely felids as well,
36 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
associated with human groups and soon became companion animals, a mutu-
alistic relationship in which the canids were cared for by the humans and, in
turn, provided both extra eyes and ears for detection of prey or possible pred-
ators and true companionship.
In all of these instances of domestication, some nascent forms of selective
breeding were introduced as a means of ensuring that desirable traits were
preferentially passed on to the next generation. Early humans had no knowl-
edge of genetics, but nonetheless they were quite capable of putting their
observations to advantage when doing controlled matings. Because the process
of human cultural evolution is generally best viewed as a continuum and not a
step process, some of what we have just discussed carried over into and was
refined during subsequent years, covered in the next section.
skilled at reading elephant signs and behavior to aid in the capture and domes-
tication of the elephants. As in the other cultures developing at this time, dogs
and horses were domesticated and bred for specific purposes.
In the Far East, including China, Japan, and Korea, animal behavior was
significant in events as diverse as birth months and annual calendars. Early
forms of astrology were prevalent in Asia, using specific constellations named
for animals to ascribe powers and behaviors of the particular animal to an indi-
vidual born at a time of the year when that constellation was prominent or
when the sun was passing through the constellation. The Chinese calendar
uses a sequence of 12 animals, each with different behavior patterns; each year
is assigned a particular animal, and the nature of that creature provides a basis
for foretelling and interpreting the events of that year. The Chinese calendar
and the zodiac used by astrologers in more Western cultures are often
compared.
The prediction of earthquakes by the actions of nonhuman animals, which
continues today as a topic of scientific interest, likely has its origins in ancient
China. Animals of a variety of types were often observed engaging in what
might be described as unusual or aberrant activities in advance of an earth-
quake. It is possible that the association of these activities with earthquakes
builds upon the knowledge about major storms that we associate with changes
in animal behavior.
Divination, or practicing the art of foretelling future events or discovering
knowledge by interpreting omens or signs, is known from all of the foregoing
regions among early people in Africa and Europe, and later in the Americas.
Those who practiced divination were said to have supernatural powers and
to be capable of seeing into the future. Among the literally hundreds of meth-
ods of divination, several use animals and knowledge of animal behavior as
sources of information to make predictions. Theriomancy is a general term
for the use of animals in divination. A wide variety of animals from insects
to mammals are used in this practice. Examples include birds, where flight
and migration patterns, flock size, and various calls are used as information
sources. Another example is rodents, whose destructive capabilities were inter-
preted as an evil omen.
contributed to the progress made during the period from early Greece in about
2700 BCE until the onset of the Byzantine Empire in about 600 CE.
Aristotle (384–322 BCE) put forth a scheme for the classification of living
organisms, and though his ladder-like proposal was later replaced, it is a mea-
sure of overall progress in understanding the natural world. He was a key figure
in terms of systematic recordings of natural history observations, preserving
findings that could be replicated by others. His extensive records on marine
organisms such as starfish and mussels produced what we may call the first
ethograms; an ethogram is a record of all of the behavior patterns and activities
of an organism and may be in the form of text or illustrations. Another aspect
of Aristotle’s work concerned use of the comparative method—combining
and contrasting observations on organisms of the same species over time or of
organisms from different species. Finally, the underpinnings of major aspects
of modern philosophy are part of Plato’s (429–347 BCE) and Aristotle’s leg-
acy. Science is based on philosophical principles, and, indeed, modern science
is an outgrowth of philosophy.
Studies of anatomy and of domestic animal activities furthered the under-
standing of behavior during the Greco-Roman era. Better knowledge of
anatomy lead to a better grasp of behaviors related to locomotion and feeding;
differences in animal structures were related to their functions in movement
and feeding. After humans solved problems pertaining to growing food and
avoiding predators, they consistently worked on aspects of animal domestica-
tion and husbandry. Indeed, for this author, the roots of animal behavior as
a science lie in the field of animal husbandry. Even in the early years of the
primary journal in our field, Animal Behaviour, in the 1950s, a significant pro-
portion of the published articles pertained to the behavior of domestic
animals.
A quotation from Aristotle provides insight regarding the perceptiveness of
animal observations:
They say that the cuckoos in Helice, when they are going to lay eggs, do not
make a nest, but lay them in the nests of doves or pigeons, and do not sit, nor
hatch, nor bring up their young; but when the young bird is born and has
grown big, it casts out of the nest those with whom it has so far lived. (1909,
p. B1)
This is exactly what happens with parasitic birds such as cuckoos and cow-
birds. However, not all that was recorded was correct, as the next quote
illustrates:
Men say that tortoises, when they have eaten part of a viper, eat marjoram as an
antidote, and, if the creature fails to find it at once, it dies. (1909, p. B2)
40 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
A LOST MILLENNIUM
The period from the decline of the Roman Empire (ca. sixth century CE)
until the start of the Renaissance was, as some have called it, the Dark Ages.
Other sources define this period as the millennium from 200 to 1200 CE.
Progress in many areas of science was stagnant or proceeded only in small
stages, although many areas of human endeavor were quite productive and
the label “Dark Ages” is something of a misnomer. Some science relapsed into
the use of mythology and supernatural explanations for natural history obser-
vations. Religions, primarily Christianity in Europe and Islam in the Middle
East (beginning in the seventh century CE), were dominant and served as
the bases for interpretation of both human life events and the activities of all
living creatures.
With respect to knowledge about and interest in animal behavior, there
were several noteworthy developments. A modest increase in trade with areas
that included Asia and Africa resulted in accumulated knowledge of these
“exotic” locations, including their animals. In the fifteenth century, explora-
tion of other geographic locales began on a large scale with ships traveling to
the Americas and around the globe, further expanding collections of animals,
living and preserved, in the nations of Europe.
IN THE BEGINNING : A HISTORY OF ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 41
The Renaissance that followed was built upon events of the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries, including the expanded knowledge of other parts of the
Earth. The invention of the printing press in the mid-1400s replaced the labo-
rious process of hand-copying text for information dispersal and storage. At
about the same time, new methods of illustration were developed that initially
involved woodcuts and later etching and engraving. The former lead to wide
dissemination of knowledge about topics including animal behavior, and the
latter resulted in means for diagramming and depicting animals engaged in
their daily activities, individually and in groups.
is obtained objectively. Today this can best be divided into two parts. Our
methods should be designed to ensure that we do not exert any undue bias
in our data collection. Particularly in animal behavior, there can be a tendency
to see what we want to see—observation is at the heart of much of what we do,
and thus there is a need for both observer objectivity and, often, the use of
multiple observers to ensure accuracy. Also, today data must be verifiable;
some other investigator or laboratory should be able to conduct exactly the
same steps we did, using the same types of test animals, apparatus, and meth-
ods, to obtain identical or nearly identical results.
During the Renaissance, individuals such as Leonardo da Vinci (1452–
1519), William Harvey (1778–1657), and Andreas Vesalius (1514–1564)
contributed to a better understanding of aspects of anatomy and physiology.
Additional work on aspects of veterinary medicine in the Middle East and
India provided insights into the behavior of some domestic animals. The Arab
agricultural revolution produced several ideas that are forerunners of ideas in
modern ecology that have strong behavioral implications. One of these was
the notion of food chains, which can be used to describe the links between
predator and prey and also imply some understanding of the behavior patterns
of animals either seeking food or avoiding being eaten. A second idea, the
notion that there is a constant struggle among animals for food and other
resources, can be viewed as a precursor of the struggle for existence among
animals of the same and different species.
By the seventeenth century, considerable knowledge about natural history
was recorded and accumulated, including many observations of and thoughts
about animal behavior. However, no separate studies or writings existed spe-
cifically for animal behavior. Ideas about how best to conduct observations
and the beginnings of experimental science set the stage for new developments
in what we know today as animal behavior during the latter portion of the
seventeenth century.
Among the naturalists who contributed to the growing body of information
were John Ray (1627–1705) and his student Francis Willoughby (1635–
1672), both Englishmen. Together they produced volumes on the plants
and animals of areas of England, most notably from natural observations.
Ray believed that similarities among organisms were significant but that these
similarities required careful examination of the traits on which the compari-
sons were based. So, for example, earlier connections made between bats and
birds because they both flew in the air were changed to placing the animals
with kin according to the existence of fur or feathers. Ray was among the first
to write about instinct, based in part on his observation that birds, even when
reared by hand, built nests using similar materials to their wild counterparts,
IN THE BEGINNING : A HISTORY OF ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 43
even though they had not had prior access to these materials. Though religion
was still a strong factor in terms of the role of science in seeking to explore
God’s creations, the underlying thinking was critical to both observing and
writing about behavior of these and many other animals.
Other naturalists also contributed to the growing trend of making careful
examinations of animal traits in natural settings. Maria Sibylla Merian
(1647–1717) produced considerable information on the life history traits of
various insects in Europe and South America. Life history traits are founda-
tional for the investigation of many aspects of animal behavior. Antoine
Reamur (1683–1757) studied the habits and social aspects of ants, and Jan
Swammerdam (1637–1680) worked out aspects of insect metamorphosis.
The discovery of microscopy by Anton von Leeuwenhoek (1632–1723)
enabled naturalists and scientists to examine, in fine detail, the anatomy and
behavior of smaller organisms.
In addition to the work of the naturalists and other scientists, some key
developments portended the rise of science. One group of changes involved
the appearance of various venues for scholars to present and record their find-
ings. What began as a sharing of abstracts among colleagues in England and
Europe developed into societies where presentations of findings were dis-
cussed. Published articles, which began as summaries of previously presented
work, evolved into written accounts of new information and eventually to cov-
erage of experimental work. Much later, in the eighteenth and nineteenth cen-
turies for some disciplines but not until the twentieth century for animal
behavior, specialized journals emerged, covering topics in more depth and
with common themes. The first journal devoted specifically to behavior, the
Journal of Animal Behaviour, appeared in the first decade of the last century
and lasted for just five years. By midcentury, several journals for studies of ani-
mal behavior existed, including Behaviour, British Journal of Animal Behaviour
(later Animal Behaviour), and the Zeitschrift für Tierpsychologie (later Ethology).
As writings about scientific topics increased, some individuals began accu-
mulating personal libraries, saving and organizing copies of publications. A
few of the nascent scholarly societies also started library collections. Institu-
tional libraries came into existence at various colleges and universities and
often benefited from donations of libraries from individuals or estates. Collec-
tions of publications gave opportunities for a broad range of scholars with
interest in scientific topics to peruse what was known on a particular topic,
perhaps stimulating their own thinking.
A third seventeenth-century change involved expansion of animal collec-
tions, including living specimens that could be observed and studied. Some
wealthy individuals created zoos or “menageries” as collections of exotic
44 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
animals housed on their estates. An early example was the Menagerie du Parc
at Versailles (1660s), though many others were created at about this same time
in England, Europe, and areas as geographically widespread as China and
India. These menageries were the province of wealthy aristocrats with an
emphasis on animal husbandry issues, but some observations valuable to
understanding behavior formed a part of these efforts. True zoological parks,
where the public could see and learn about captive animals, did not come into
existence until the last half of the eighteenth century with, for example, the
Tiergarten Schonbrunn at Vienna. As we know today, zoos are an integral part
of work on animal behavior, particularly with regard to conservation efforts
and education.
support the notion that he was primary figure in the history of the field. First,
he claimed, in a fashion perhaps reminiscent of Descartes, that all observations
must include clear definitions of the behaviors being recorded and that all such
information should be recorded accurately. Second, he likely produced the
first “complete” catalogues of behavior and life history traits for various ani-
mals, what we would later call an ethogram. Third, he made comparisons
between animals and their differences in behavior, as between herbivores and
carnivores. Fourth, he felt that animal actions were not necessarily entirely
mechanistic but rather were influenced by differing needs and motivations.
In this way he is, in a sense, an early participant in the debate that continues
to this day about the varying and complex roles of genetics and experience in
affecting observed behaviors.
The field of ecology, though not quite as fully developed as we know it to-
day, began to emerge during these decades based on the findings from the
explorations, providing a solid basis for developing principles that could be
applied across a wide range of locations and habitat types. These principles con-
cerned topics such as populations, communities of organisms of different
species, and interactions among organisms of the same and different species.
The nitrogen (N) cycle, an example of a biogeochemical cycle, was partially
deciphered and included key roles for behavioral processes like feeding and pre-
dation where N was passed from plants to animals and then to other animals.
If one examines what I like to call the “ladder of life,” atoms and chemicals are
at the bottom end and biomes and the biosphere are at the top end. In between,
the lower steps involve cells, physiology, and organ systems, arriving at the ani-
mal and its behavior near the center of the climb. Above the organism we find
populations, communities, and ecosystems before reaching the higher steps.
This is all by way of noting that the animal is the key both to the ways in which
form and function result in animal actions and to the ways those actions are then
the critical element in putting together the various ecological processes that
emerge from organisms living together. Beginning to understand the ecological
portion of the ladder and the functions of individual animals in an ecological set-
ting emerged as critical developments in the first half of the nineteenth century.
Other events happening in the life sciences over the same period were
important for animal behavior. Johannes Muller (1801–1858) provided key
insights into the functioning of the nervous system and also performed early
embryology experiments; his Handbook of Physiology brought together, for
the first time, work on biology (anatomy and physiology) with principles from
chemistry and physics. Principles of energetics and metabolic functions were
fashioned and tested by individuals such as Claude Bernard (1813–1878).
The clear relationships between muscle structure and function were elucidated
by William Bowman (1816–1892) and Albert von Kolliker (1817–1905),
among others. Key aspects of the sensory-motor systems of animals were
developed from work by Luigi Galvani (1737–1798) in the seventeenth cen-
tury and expanded upon by Emil du Bois-Reymond (1818–1896), who dem-
onstrated the passage of a change of electrical state as an impulse passes along a
neuron, and Francois Magendie (1783–1855), who helped separate the sen-
sory nervous system and the motor nervous system. These scientists worked
with combinations of anatomy and physiology, using careful dissections of
nerves and then studying the phenomena through the use of experimental
techniques such as nerve-muscle dissections and the kymograph. The work-
ings of the nervous system were summarized by T. H. Huxley (1825–1895)
in his 1877 treatise, Manual of the Anatomy of the Invertebrate Animals.
48 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Though direct observations of the behavior of the whole organism were not
a regular part of the experiments conducted by these individuals, behavior in
some form was often an endpoint. The experimental techniques and principles
developed during this period form the basis for more thorough examination of
underlying physiological and developmental aspects of behavior in the latter
half of the century.
For all of biology, the seminal event of this time period was the formulation
of the idea of evolution by natural selection put forward by Charles Darwin
in his 1858 paper and 1959 book, On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural
Selection. It should be noted that Alfred Russell Wallace (1823–1913), who
worked in the Malay Archipelago, came up with the same notions about evo-
lutionary processes as did Darwin. Darwin’s conception was developed ini-
tially in the decades following his voyage on the Beagle, but he did not
publish the idea until correspondence with Wallace revealed that both men
were on the same path with their ideas.
The framework for understanding evolution by natural selection grew, as
happens with many key ideas in science, from a mix of earlier ideas. In this
case, those prior ideas certainly included the work of Lamarck, Darwin’s
grandfather, and Malthus. Also important was the work of a geologist, Charles
Lyell (1797–1875), who, upon examining rocks and rock strata at a number
of locations, developed the notion of uniformitarianism. He proposed that
geological history encompassed long periods of time with gradual changes,
something that was important to Darwin’s later formulation.
the actions of animals is to examine the world in which they live from their
perspective, with their sensory and brain systems. This too is a key aspect of
most training of students in their thinking about animal behavior today.
In the United States, a long tradition of naturalists whose observations
included many aspects of animal behavior included individuals like John
Bartram (1699–1777), his son William Bartram (1739–1823), and John J.
Audubon (1785–1851). In addition, there were many naturalists attached to
expeditions of the nineteenth century exploring areas of the western United
States and Alaska who added to the legacy of important information, both at
the level of species discovery and identification and in terms of behavioral
observations. These included Thomas Say (1787–1834), who worked pri-
marily on descriptions of insects (more than 1,400 new species) but also on
birds; John E. LeConte (1784–1860), who studied a variety of vertebrates
and invertebrates and also plants; and Elliott Coues (1842–1899), a father of
modern ornithology from earlier in the nineteenth century. In the later deca-
des of the century were John Muir (1838–1914), who traveled throughout
the western United States and to Alaska, writing on many topics, including
animal behavior; John Burroughs (1827–1921), who is often credited with
being the progenitor of the natural history essay and who wrote broadly on
many animal species; and C. Hart Merriam (1855–1942), a zoologist whose
field work, largely in the American Southwest, lead to the life zones concept.
This principle explains the fact that as one traverses from lower elevations to
higher climes, the changes in vegetation and animal life parallel similar
changes recorded when one travels from lower to higher latitudes. There are
many aspects of animal behavior where this concept continues to stimulate
research.
Within the emerging discipline of animal psychology, in addition to the
contributions of Romanes and Morgan, other important ideas emerged that
became part of the foundations for this approach to behavior. The idea of
organic selection was proposed by James M. Baldwin (1861–1934) and
others. This concept involves the development of variable phenotypes not
based on genetics, followed by some form of hereditary traits with clear adap-
tive advantages. This could lead to selection that would favor developmental
pathways resulting in a phenotypic trait like that which had appeared origi-
nally without a genetic basis. This has become known as the Baldwin effect
and has again met with interest from scientists in the past several decades.
Linus W. Kline (1866–?) was an early proponent, in several papers, of psy-
chology as a source of new methods as well as the use of a wide variety of
organisms for studying comparative behavior. He is also known for one of
the earliest attempts to provide a course in laboratory instruction for students
IN THE BEGINNING : A HISTORY OF ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 51
in this field. It was during this period that the use of the white rat (Rattus nor-
vegicus) as a subject first occurred and the first mazes and similar test apparatus
were introduced. Comparative psychology remained a two-pronged approach;
some studies examined animal behavior for the sake of understanding the
activities of the subjects, and others were designed to explore behavior using
animals as models for humans.
On an organizational level, T. Wesley Mills (1845–1915) originated the
Association for the Study of Comparative Psychology, dedicated to providing
for wide-ranging inquiry on topics pertaining to the animal kingdom. William
James (1842–1910) published The Principles of Psychology in 1890, a textbook
that was in standard use for several decades. The American Journal of Psychology
was founded by G. Stanley Hall (1844–1924) in 1887. All three of these indi-
viduals were adherents of the new theory of evolution by natural selection and
combined that set of principles with work on physiology, education, and child
development, respectively.
By the end of the nineteenth century, the study of animal behavior was well
grounded and could, in some manner, be ascribed to three different fields of
study. In England and Europe, what later became known as ethology was
the primary focus. In the United States, most attention in zoology was focused
on studies of natural history and physiology. In both locations, though pri-
marily in the United States, work progressed on aspects of animal psychology.
In the next three sections, we will explore in more detail how each of these
three approaches resulted in a considerable body of information about animal
behavior as well as a number of theoretical ideas concerning animal actions. It
should be noted that in many writings about the origins of modern animal
behavior, only ethology in Europe and animal psychology in the United States
are considered as foundational. I claim here that the tradition of natural his-
tory and some accompanying explorations of pertinent anatomy and physiol-
ogy are a third major pillar supporting the later appearance of modern
animal behavior.
Science does not recognize boundaries such as decades or centuries. Thus,
with particular reference to the next three sections on approaches to the study
of behavior, there will, of necessity, be some coverage that extends backward
to the nineteenth century, just as some of those whose work has just been cited
worked into the twentieth century. Of course, it also is true that one cannot
fully assign individual scholars exclusively to one of the three approaches;
many worked at intersections or were trained in one tradition and eventually
made significant contributions in one or more of the other traditions. Finally,
the history of science is a mixture of tracking the origin and evolution of ideas
but includes a considerable emphasis on the people who conducted the
52 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
research and wrote the papers and books providing a published record of their
findings.
We should note that Watson was an earlier proponent of and engaged in con-
siderable field research, including trips to distant locations. B. F. Skinner
IN THE BEGINNING : A HISTORY OF ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 53
Eibl-Eibesfeldt (1928–), and Peter Marler (1928–). Hinde was a primary fix-
ture of the animal behavior research group at Cambridge University for more
than half a century, mentoring numerous students, writing one of the first
textbooks on animal behavior, and adding considerable knowledge to the field.
His major foci included social and reproductive behavior of birds, animal
communication, and a body of work that paralleled the studies by Harlow
on mother-infant separation in rhesus macaques. He, like others of the time,
related many of his findings to human biology and behavior.
Eibl-Eibesfeldt studied the development of behavior, primarily in mammals
and involving studies in the field in Africa. Later he worked on comparative
aspects of animal communication in vertebrates, including humans, where
his work intersected with linguistics. He was a cofounder of the International
Society for Human Ethology. His 1970 textbook, Ethology, The Biology of
Behavior, is noteworthy for its integration of all approaches to the study of
animal activities.
Marler, who was Hinde’s first doctoral student, started his career in the
United Kingdom but spent many years at the Rockefeller University and the
University of California at Berkeley and Davis. He is thus a prime example
of the sort of cross-fertilization that occurred during this period. Marler co-
authored, with William J. Hamilton, a widely used early textbook of animal
behavior (1964). His research contributions center on bird vocalizations and
include discovering that white-crowned sparrows (Zonotrichia leucophrys) had
regional song dialects, a phenomenon now known from a variety of verte-
brates. He worked, in fine detail, on factors affecting the development of bird
vocalizations, working out the different strategies used for song learning and
defining stages in the process, such as plastic song and crystallized song.
Many other scientists and their contributions could be provided here as
examples of connections between Europe and America involving approaches
to animal behavior. The result of these connections, a period of integration
of ethology, comparative psychology, and zoology, is the subject of the next
section.
Table 2.1. Decadal summary of new and total numbers of journals with a primary
focus on animal behavior.
Year interval Number of new journals Total number of journals
Before 1960 7
1960–1969 7 14
1970–1979 16 30
1980–1989 12 42
1990–1999 2 44
2000–2009 1 45
in the late 1970s and onward. Major areas of research included topics like
behavior genetics, behavior development, social behavior (including ecological
and evolutionary aspects of social organization), social and ecological aspects
of learning, neuroethology, neuroendocrinology, and the evolution and func-
tion of play behavior. Generally, these and other research foci fit within the
four-question scheme proposed by Tinbergen: (1) causation—the underlying
physiological mechanisms; (2) development, wherein the inherited blueprint
unfolds in the context of environment and experience; (3) evolution of behav-
ior; and (4) the function or ecological context of behavior.
Looking at the work of several individuals should provide a flavor of the
types of research being conducted during this quarter century, a mix of some
things from the past, some new areas, and many new investigators. Several of
the key figures had experience in both North America and Europe. George
Barlow (1929–2007) trained first at the University of California—Los Angeles
and then worked with Konrad Lorenz, and later with Niko Tinbergen in
Europe and England. His approach to cichlid fishes and their behavior drew
from both approaches to behavior. The complete, comparative picture of
cichlid fish behavioral and social systems is a model for thoroughness and
detail.
Richard Dawkins (1941–), now known more for his championing aspects
of evolutionary biology, was a Tinbergen student at Oxford and then spent
time in a faculty position at the University of California at Berkeley. His
own research combined studies on animal communication and evolutionarily
stable strategies, with synthetic contributions including genes and behavior,
evolution, and science and religion. Donald Griffin (1915–2003), an Ameri-
can and the father of cognitive ethology, began work on echolocation in bats
early in his career and then devoted a major portion of his efforts to the idea
that animals can think, form mental concepts, and use thought process during
their daily activities and interactions with their surroundings. This latter
worked spawned an entire area of research within animal behavior that contin-
ues to this day. Stephen T. Emlen (1940–) spent his academic career at
Cornell, where his studies span the globe, both in terms of the locations where
he conducted investigations (Africa, Central and South America, United
States) and the topics that he explored (bullfrog [Rana catesbeiana] territories,
navigation in nocturnally migrating songbirds, mating systems and infanticide
in jaçanas, and breeding biology and parental behavior in bee eaters).
Patrick Bateson (1938–), an Englishman, did his doctoral work with
Tinbergen and, like several others just mentioned, spent time early in his
career in the United States. His studies involved early behavior development
in cats and early experience effects on sexual preferences in fowl, and he was
IN THE BEGINNING : A HISTORY OF ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 63
a key person with regard to techniques used for measuring behavior and analy-
sis of findings from observations of animals. He coedited a series of volumes
on Perspectives in Ethology and wrote numerous articles popularizing aspects
of behavior. A fellow Englishman, Geoffrey Parker (1944–), is a leading pro-
ponent of using game theory concepts to explain behavior and generate
hypotheses for investigations, and he has worked on aspects of sexual selection
and other tenets of Darwinian natural selection. He is, in effect, a bridge to the
idea of behavioral ecology that came to dominate a segment of animal behav-
ior research during the late 1970s.
Textbooks published during this period, including those by Marler and
Hamilton, Hinde, Eibl-Eibesfeldt, and Jerram Brown, all evidence a broader
approach to the study of behavior. The material covered involves all topics,
ranging from physiology and development to ecology and evolution. The liter-
ature cited and examples used reinforce the large scope of the field of ethology
or animal behavior during its period of maturation.
An important feature of the quarter century we are discussing was the
beginning of greater involvement of women studying animal behavior. To
be sure, there were females who worked in this field during the 1950s and
1960s, such as Evelyn Shaw, Ethel Tobach, and Lee Ehrman, but the field
was largely dominated by males. The 1986 volume Studying Animal Behavior:
Autobiographies of the Founders by Donald A. Dewsbury, with autobiographies
of the founders of ethology, contained essays only from men. Among those
whose contributions were recognized in the second volume of autobiographies
(Leaders in Animal Behavior, The Second Generation [2010] by Lee C. Drick-
amer and Dewsbury), which recognizes individuals whose efforts began by
the 1970s, were Jeanne Altmann (1940–), Sarah Hrdy (1946–), Mary Jane
West-Eberhard (1941–), Patricia A. Gowaty (1945–), Marian Stamp Dawkins
(1945–) and Meredith West (1947–). Altmann’s (1974) paper on sampling
methods for the study of animal behavior is the most cited paper in our field.
She continues long-term contributions on the social biology and behavior of
baboons, studied in the wild in Kenya. Hrdy investigated the significance of
paternal infanticide, based on her work on langurs, and is a leading figure in
writing about the importance of understanding female roles in social systems.
West-Eberhard is a pioneer in terms of studying and writing about phenotypic
plasticity and epigenetic effects on behavior. Gowaty has investigated blue-
birds, fruit flies, and other organisms, with several foci. One of these is the
connection between evolutionary biology and feminism and the importance
of variation in life history traits of females and males and their interrelation-
ships. Marian Dawkins is a principal figure in one of the newer subfields of
animal behavior, the examination of animal welfare, particularly in regard to
64 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Table 2.2. Content of Animal Behaviour by type of article using one randomly
chosen issue for each of the last five years of a decade.
Number
of Behavioral
Interval articles Number/year Mechanism ecology Other
1956–1960 129 35 57 57 15
1966–1970 135 85 78 40 17
1976–1980 140 110 29 92 19
1986–1990 124 190 20 100 4
1996–2000 103 240 17 79 7
2006–2010 157 320 14 136 7
who carry your same genes. These, and possibly other types of altruistic acts,
sometimes referred to as reciprocal altruism, provide many testable hypothe-
ses in relation to social systems, cooperative breeding, and similar topics.
Group selection is built upon the idea that traits that benefit the group,
though not always individuals, can be selected for in the course of evolution.
This notion was elucidated in the 1960s, received considerable criticism in
ensuing decades, and has, in recent years, been reconsidered, as for example
in terms of gene-culture evolution in humans.
A fifth area, which grew considerably by the 1990s, involves animal com-
munication. Animal signals often are complex, multimodal, and convey infor-
mation concerning many different aspects of the social and environmental
situation. Communication, the use of signals to change or modify the behav-
ior of other individuals, is constrained by ecological conditions. Thus, a pri-
mary area of investigation is exploring these constraints and comparing
communications system in animals in similar and different environments.
Other topics include, for example, specificity of animal warning systems, traits
used in mate selection, parent-offspring interactions, honesty of signals, and
the use of different sensory modalities to communicate.
A constant theme, which began with the early writings that led to behav-
ioral ecology and continues today, concerns methods and models. Many new
methods or adaptations of existing methods contribute to behavioral ecology.
These are as diverse as techniques for marking or tracking individual animals,
to remote sensing, to genetics and DNA testing. Today, they also include pro-
cedures for noninvasive measurements of hormones and other physiological
parameters. Much of the work in behavioral ecology was stimulated by mod-
els, sometimes borrowed from other fields such as economics. Optimality
theory is one such example. Game theory, which involves predictions about
individual and group behaviors in competitions for resources, has widespread
applications to problems in animal behavior. We have already mentioned the
comparative method, a standard tool for examining virtually all topics in
behavioral ecology. Evolutionarily stable strategies, which are systems of
behavior adopted by an individual or group that, if invaded by an alternative,
cannot be “defeated,” are another model system that was an impetus for work
on topics ranging from foraging to reproduction.
Today, some of those studying behavioral ecology have adapted to the
changing landscape, employing ever more genetic techniques, including some
scientists using genetic manipulations. Also, investigators are working on ener-
getics and related physiological parameters, often using combinations of field
and laboratory experiments. These are the harbingers of the future, and we
will turn to them in the last section of the essay.
68 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
influence the adult organism in terms of its reproductive capacities and success?
These studies rely on newer technologies such as receptor binding assays,
field-based systems for hormone measurement, and chemical assays for hor-
mone precursors. A research example is measuring the levels of luteinizing hor-
mone and estrogen in migratory birds to provide a better understanding of the
start of the annual breeding season after the birds arrive at their summer
locations.
The study of social behavior includes how the animals of a particular spe-
cies array themselves in space, the overall nature of their social system and
reproductive system (e.g., whether they are solitary, monogamous, or live in
groups), aggression, and affiliative interactions among group members. A
comparative study of the architecture of various brain regions might suggest
some basic brain structural differences or similarities among different species
that share similar social systems. Are there different neuroendocrinological pro-
cesses, perhaps modulated by species differences in hormone receptors, associated
with brain cells that can predict whether a species is monogamous or has some other
form of system with multiple mates? Are there individual differences within a spe-
cies in terms of brain regions that are involved in aggressive (or submissive) inter-
actions? A research example would be the elucidation of the pathways that
begin with chemical signals released by animals, such as a dominant individ-
ual, trace through the neurons of the olfactory system to particular sensory
regions of the brain, and continue then to the motor pathways that result in
acts of aggression. It may be possible to manipulate levels of chemical signals
or interrupt brain pathways to further test these findings.
When an animal reproduces there are generally either eggs or live young
produced. In the 1960s Lehrman worked out the details of a sequence of
behavior in reproducing ring doves. The steps included (1) courtship, (2) nest
construction, (3) egg laying, (4) incubation, and (5) feeding crop milk to the
squabs after hatching. Feedback systems involving behavior and endocrine sys-
tems of the male and female ring dove coordinated their efforts to reproduce.
It is now possible to dissect this sequence much further using a combination of
the techniques already mentioned. The result for the ring dove, as well as other
species that have been studied, including reptiles and mammals, is an under-
standing of the underlying neural and hormonal sequences that occur with
an almost lock-step sequence between and within each member of the pair
of ring doves.
Other questions that fit this theme include the following: What are the
neurohormonal correlates of the cessation of parental care when weaning or fledg-
ing occurs? What about processes such as metamorphosis where it occurs in insects
and amphibians in terms of the interactions of the environmental conditions,
70 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
seeds locate their caches when winter conditions dictate a need for food? What
about the neural processes related to language skills as studied, for example, in Afri-
can grey parrots (Psittacus erithacus)? Many bird species migrate seasonally:
How do they navigate during these sometimes very long-distance movements? These
and many other topics are the focus of investigators exploring cognitive pro-
cesses in nonhuman animals, with comparisons to similar processes in humans.
One final area that relates internal body mechanisms with observed behavior
arises from immunology. We know that the parasite load of an organism, if
revealed through external features, can be a factor in processes like mate selec-
tion. We also know that genetic traits, such as variations in the major histocom-
patability locus, influence mate choice, possibly through odor cues. The
immune system has close interconnections with both the endocrine and nervous
systems, effectively making a triangle where each of the three points is connected
to the others. As animal behavior progresses to more studies of mechanisms, this
triangle will be an important source of thinking about these interrelationships.
Several topics in current animal behavior research include components
from both studies of mechanisms and behavioral ecology. These involve, for
example, conservation work and applied animal behavior. Knowing the behav-
ior and ecology of an endangered species may give some clues as to the reasons
for its population decline, but establishing appropriate breeding programs for
reintroductions requires a thorough knowledge of the neuroendocrine systems
of each species. Knowledge of a species’s habitat and needs in a natural envi-
ronment is also critical both for preserving limited existing populations and
for reintroductions. For domestic livestock, issues regarding both better pro-
duction and animal welfare occasion the need to examine, in more detail than
just external behavioral observations, the underlying mechanisms correspond-
ing to stress reactions or successful reproduction.
that brings together the external ecological and evolutionary aspects of behav-
ior with the internal mechanisms. The sorts of investigations that target inte-
gration include, for example, the analysis of the genetics underlying mating
systems in voles and social systems in honey bees, the study of hormones relat-
ing to mating and stress in birds living in the natural environment, and the
examination of longer-term effects on fitness of manipulation of hormone lev-
els in field enclosures. With behavioral scientists from differing backgrounds
working together it is now possible to study behavioral phenomena at several
levels simultaneously (see Volume 3 of these volumes).
Epigenetics
Epigenetics is defined as events that influence trait expression, in addition to
the genetic blueprint, during the development of an organism (see Chapter 8).
That is, there are forms of inheritance that go beyond simple DNA-based
effects that we have long considered as the mainstay of development and evolu-
tion. The mechanisms of these effects include such things as methylation pat-
terns on the DNA, RNA interference with genes, and inheritance of aspects
of the structure from mother cells to daughter cells. The key to these epigenetic
inheritance systems is that they influence the expression of traits and are,
because they are inherited, subject to natural selection. Because behavior is a
product of the structure and physiology of an organism, which in turn are
shaped by both genetic and epigenetic effects during the course of develop-
ment, and indeed into maturity, the study of epigenetics will be critical to
understanding the mechanisms underlying animal actions and activities.
A closely related concept, phenotypic plasticity, sometimes referred to as
ecological developmental biology, involves a combination of epigenetics and
thorough examination and testing of environmental (ecological) effects on
the developing organism. A key feature of this approach is an emphasis on real,
natural world environments; hence the incorporation of “ecology” in the
name given to this emerging area of research. In effect, the age-old dichotomy
and seemingly endless discussions concerning the effects of genetics and expe-
rience on observed behavior is resolved in favor of an approach that combines
an understanding of the breadth of inherited components of this matter with
knowledge of the detailed interactions of the inheritance with dynamic pro-
cesses that occur during development and on into adult life.
Strong Inference
Work in behavioral ecology and all areas of animal behavior should return
to strong inference approaches—not affirmational tests. What is strong infer-
ence? This approach has several important features. Rather than engaging in
testing a single hypothesis, which has an inherent confirmational bias, science
should be done with alternative hypotheses as a basis for the experimental
design (Chapter 1). This promotes the use of one or more critical experiments
to differentiate between alternative hypotheses. And, as we noted more than
once in our historical retrospective earlier in this chapter, the techniques and
methods for data collection must provide a clean and unbiased sample of the
phenomena under investigation. Where possible, it is best to measure multiple
dependent variables to assess the full effects of any treatments.
As an example, consider the problem of possible outcomes of mating pref-
erences in mice. If a female mouse is given a choice among several males, we
might hypothesize that if she mates with the preferred male, she will have
higher reproductive success. Two alternatives would be that she might, when
mated with the preferred male, have lower reproductive success, or her success
may not differ from matings where she is paired with a nonpreferred male. To
provide the strongest test among these alternatives we need a third test group
with random matings between males and females—a control. Only by using
all three test groups can we fully differentiate among the effects of mating with
different males. In this case, it is also possible to measure a number of depen-
dent variables. These include success in producing litters, litter size, survival of
pups to weaning, and, to take the process a step further, the effects of the
74 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
various matings on behavioral traits such as aggression and nest building that
may relate to reproduction in the next generation.
Modeling
There are several types of models that we can use in the study of behavior
(Chapter 1). They serve both to generate new ideas for testing and to summa-
rize information. One type of model involves a schematic diagram, often
involving arrows connecting components of the model. Such diagrams can
be used for depicting dominance hierarchies, movements of groups of ani-
mals including interactions between groups, and, in an ecological sense, for
presenting food webs and the complex feeding interactions that involve
behavior.
Mathematical models attempt to describe processes using equations, which
can include, in our case, behavioral activities and their consequences as well as
contingent probabilities. At another level mathematical models can be used for
predicting outcomes, such as the effects of different mating patterns on repro-
ductive success and possible evolutionary implications. Simulations are
another form of modeling, usually involving a set of components that can
either be assigned specific values or with values that change according to some
formula or a random sequence. Working with animal populations and includ-
ing features like changes in reproduction due to environmental conditions,
social variables, and age, for example, can be modeled in this fashion.
The use of models is certainly not new for those who study animal behav-
ior. However, renewed attention to the types of models just described as well
as others will become a hallmark of the next steps for animal behavior as we
integrate internal mechanisms and external functions. Evaluating models can
be a multistep process, involving examining how well they fit previous obser-
vations as well as using them to design experiments to test how well the model
predicts findings from new tests.
With advances in statistics, we now have available a wider variety of pos-
sible ways to analyze data. Examples of newer statistical approaches developed
and refined in the past 20 years include trajectory analysis, new types of time-
series testing, and various forms of logistic regression. The use of these new
statistical methods and advanced versions of existing software entails a full
understanding of the assumptions that underlie the tests as well as a good
grasp of the ways in which planning for the statistical tests to be used in data
analysis can influence the experimental design.
Many of these new methods involve better ways to look at multivariate sys-
tems; because natural systems are inherently complex, the use of these tools is
a great way to make progress. However, because there is also considerable
IN THE BEGINNING : A HISTORY OF ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 75
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I thank Ken Yasukawa for the opportunity to write this chapter. My thanks to
Patricia A. Gowaty, Donald Dewsbury, John Byers, Gordon Burghardt, and Jack
King for helpful discussions about the history of the study of animal behavior.
INTRODUCTION
As a young adult I recall canoeing in the Boundary Waters in northern
Minnesota and closely attending to the shape of a lake or river to help deter-
mine my current location on a map. Our group often designated me as the
navigator because of my strong spatial skills on the open water. However,
being a parent of two young children has taken its toll on my spatial skills
recently. A good example of such a deficit in spatial cognition occurred the
other day. My wife and I were walking with our children, and we had to run
two errands—returning a children’s video to the library and shopping for
groceries—before returning home. The library was to the northeast of our cur-
rent position and the store was to the northwest (thus, our position at the time
was at the base of a virtual T). Being the primary navigator in our household,
I confidentially recommended traveling to the library first and then to the gro-
cery store before heading home. Unfortunately, my wife pointed out that the
proposed route was inefficient as it would require us to backtrack past the
library on the way home. She suggested the shorter route of going to the gro-
cery store first and then to the library on the way home. Note that my wife’s
route not only was more efficient in terms of the distance traveled but also
may have reduced other travel costs (e.g., minimizing travel time and reducing
the opportunity for a child breakdown away from home).
80 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
On the basis of the work showing that a variety of animal travelers take effi-
cient routes, a second line of research has started to examine how animal trav-
elers might solve TSPs in a way that would allow them to be efficient. One
possibility is that a traveler might represent the problem globally and encode
into memory the multiple locations that need to be visited. Such a representa-
tion might allow the traveler to consider multiple travel routes and also plan a
route several steps ahead before setting off on the journey (Janson, 1998,
2007; Miyata et al., 2006; Miyata & Fujita, 2008, 2010). Solving the problem
from a more global perspective may allow the traveler to plan beyond just the
next step in the route. Here we define planning in its broadest sense, that is,
developing a plan for future movements before they actually occur (Friedman
& Scholnick, 1997). Planning several steps ahead may require an allocentric
representation such as a cognitive map—an internal representation of impor-
tant places that indicates the geometric relationships between them (O’Keefe
& Nadel, 1978; Gallistel, 1990; see Shettleworth, 2010, for a review). Such
a representation could be used to determine an efficient route to multiple
locations.
The efficient traveling behavior of the chimpanzees in Menzel’s study is
consistent with cognitive mapping (Tolman, 1948; O’Keefe & Nadel, 1978;
Gallistel, 1990; Shettleworth, 2010). Likewise, Randy Gallistel and Audrey
Cramer (1996) had monkeys find food that was hidden at four goal locations
positioned at the corners of a diamond. During some occasions the monkeys
had to make a round trip (going to each location once before returning to
the start location), and at other times the monkeys had to make a one-way trip
from the start and visit all locations but were not required to return to the
starting point. During the round-trip condition the monkeys tended to use
an efficient perimeter route, but during the one-way trip condition they
changed their behavior and used a Z-like route in going to each location.
Thus, it would appear that the monkeys planned a travel route in advance
based on the configuration of the four locations and the task requirements.
While the monkeys’ behavior in Gallistel and Cramer’s study was consistent
with a stored representation of the spatial relationships among several loca-
tions, it is not clear these representations are required for efficient traveling.
Cognitive maps remain controversial (Bennett, 1996), and evidence for such
internal representations can often be explained by alternative mechanisms,
such as vector addition or learning (e.g., Brown et al., 1993; Bennett, 1996;
Gibson & Kamil, 2001; Hamilton et al., 2007; Shettleworth, 2010).
In TSPs with a limited number of locations, like the one in Figure 3.1, it is
pretty easy for a person (one would think, at least!) to determine most of the
solutions and select an efficient route. However, a traveler’s ability to generate
82 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 3.1. Four locations—(C) current, (G) grocery store, (L) library, and (H) home—
as potential destinations along a hypothetical route. The arrows indicate some potential
routes of travel to get from the current location (C) to home (H). The arrow in the top-
right corner indicates north.
and peruse most of the solutions becomes more demanding as the number of
locations (nodes) in the problem increases. In the example shown in Figure 3.1
there are three locations (if the location of home is counted as a destination),
so there are 3! (3 × 2 × 1) or 6 potential routes from which to choose. But sup-
pose my kids were starting to get grumpy while I was formulating my route so
I also wanted to stop for lunch, and then later pick up the dry cleaning and
also get a chai tea for the walk home. Now there would be 6! or 720 possible
routes to choose from! If I had a problem selecting an efficient route with 12
possible solutions, I am sure to struggle with discriminating among 720 solu-
tions in the expanded problem. My decision is made somewhat easier by the
fact that half of the solutions are the same route taken in the other direction,
and some of these may be eliminated quite easily (for example, I hope I would
not select going back to my home from the starting location as the first leg of
my route for my remaining errands).
Finding an efficient route, for example one that minimizes the distance
traveled, for problems with a large number of nodes would appear to be more
challenging and potentially cognitively demanding. Instead of using a global
strategy, some travelers may instead solve TSPs and minimize the amount of
cognitive demand by using a rule-based solution to determine a route. The
use of a simple rule would not require that the traveler plan one or more steps
ahead along the route. An example of a rule-based solution is the local nearest-
BEING DIRECT : CAN PIGEONS PLAN AHEAD ? 83
People
We recruited 18 adult female undergraduate students for the study, who
gave informed consent; credit was given as part of a course research-
experience requirement. The experimenters had people sit in a chair in front
of a 15-inch high-resolution LCD monitor; the participant could adjust the
chair so that she could view the stimuli from a distance of 0.5 m (3.67 degrees
of visual angle). During the start of each trial we presented a black cross in the
center of the display area of the monitor to signal the trial onset. The partici-
pant used a cursor controlled by a mouse to click the stimulus. Next, the com-
puter program displayed three or more identical 2 cm square nodes on the
monitor. The computer randomly determined the position of the nodes in
the display area with the constraint that no node could be closer than 1 cm
to the border of the display area. Participants therefore received different prob-
lems on each trial of the session. Participants were instructed to click an initial
node and then each of the remaining nodes just once to complete the trial.
The shape of the node changed from light to dark to indicate to the partici-
pant that a node had been selected. An ominous tone sounded if the partici-
pant returned to a previously selected node, and the screen also went dark
for 20 seconds prior to the trial being repeated. The participants were told to
select a node and try and find the shortest route to pass through each of the
remaining nodes on the screen. We also told the participants that route effi-
ciency rather than speed was important in solving the problem. We presented
the participants with 96 trials in a daily session: 32 problems each with three,
four, and five nodes that were randomly intermixed.
Pigeons
We also examined four adult pigeons. The pigeons were kept at 85 percent
of their free feeding weight to ensure motivation for food as an outcome
during testing in the operant chamber. We trained and tested the pigeons in
operant chambers that had a 15-inch monitor positioned in the front wall.
We positioned a touchscreen over the monitor to record the Cartesian loca-
tion (coordinates in a 2-D plot) of the pecks the birds made to the stimuli pre-
sented on the monitor. The computer dispensed food pellets into a small cup
located on the floor next to the rear wall of the chamber following appropriate
responses. We initially trained the pigeons to respond to one and then two
nodes (the same as described previously) in the display area to familiarize them
with the “rules” of the traveling task. As was the case for people, we presented
a start stimulus in the center of the display area to signal the beginning of a
trial. A peck to the start stimulus advanced the trial; the screen went black,
BEING DIRECT : CAN PIGEONS PLAN AHEAD ? 85
and initially a single node (as described for people) then appeared. The com-
puter randomly determined the position of the node prior to the start of a trial.
The node became dark after being pecked. The computer then cleared the dis-
play area and two food pellets were delivered. We required that the pigeons
peck each node once during this two-node phase of training. The computer
cleared the display area after the second node was pecked, and responses to
previously pecked nodes resulted in the trial being redone as described previ-
ously. Each daily session consisted of 120 trials.
Next, during the testing phase we presented the pigeons with problems that
included three nodes. Each pigeon could select any of the three nodes as the
starting node. The birds then needed to peck the two remaining nodes just
once without returning to a previously responded-to node. Each daily session
with three nodes consisted of 120 problems, and we continued testing for
12 days. We subsequently conducted testing with four nodes in a problem
for a block of 12 sessions and then a block of 12 sessions with five nodes.
These daily sessions also had 120 trials.
the same length, and determining the single best route would be harder than
when the three nodes were in a line. Solution disparity was determined for
each problem by calculating the mean path length of all possible one-way sol-
utions for a trial and dividing that mean by the standard deviation of the
solutions. The disparity score increases as the difference among the solutions
increases, whereas the disparity score decreases when the distances of the
possible routes to a solution become more comparable.
88
Figure 3.3. The mean length of the routes selected by the Monte Carlo model, people,
the nearest-neighbor model, and the optimal model for problems with three nodes
(top), four nodes (middle), and five nodes (bottom) across decreasing levels of solu-
tion disparity.
89
90 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
People tended to choose the shortest possible leg of the TSP as the first
leg of their route when compared to the Monte Carlo model (Figure 3.4).
This pattern was true for problems with three, four, and five nodes. People
tended to select clusters of nodes early during the formation of the route rather
than later in the process. The reason why the people tended to select the clus-
ters early in the trial remains unclear. The routes would be just as efficient by
including the cluster at the end compared to the beginning of the route, so
perhaps the propensity to select a cluster early has more to do with a percep-
tual tendency when selecting a route during a 2-D task.
The mean distance of the routes selected by the pigeons was shorter than
that of the Monte Carlo model and longer than optimal for problems with
three, four, and five nodes (Figure 3.5). Thus, like people, the pigeons were
not randomly selecting the nodes to form a route. The routes selected by the
pigeons were longer than those selected by the nearest-neighbor model for
problems with three, four, and five nodes (Figure 3.5). In contrast, the length
of the routes selected by people tended to overlap with those of the Monte
Carlo model. Likewise, the proportion of the pigeons’ routes that were identi-
cal to the nearest-neighbor model was substantially lower than that observed
for people. The mean proportion of neighbor solutions for the pigeons was
0.35 0.03 for problems with three nodes, 0.31 0.01 for problems with
four nodes, and 0.33 0.04 for problems with five nodes. The difference in
the mean distance of the routes selected by the pigeons and the other models
described above appeared to remain consistent across solutions with high to
modest levels of solution disparity (Figure 3.6). When solution disparity
was most extreme, the distance of the pigeons’ routes overlaps considerably
with that of the Monte Carlo model (Figure 3.6, far right).
Like people, the pigeons tended to select clusters of nodes for their first
choice (Figure 3.7). The pigeons choose the two nodes with the shortest inter-
node distance as part of their first choice of the route at a high level for TSPs
with three and four nodes. The tendency to select a cluster as part of the first
choice diminished for problems with five nodes, in contrast to what was
observed for people.
92
Figure 3.6. The mean length of the routes selected by the Monte Carlo model,
pigeons, the nearest-neighbor model, and the optimal model for problems with
three nodes (top), four nodes (middle), and five nodes (bottom) across decreasing
levels of solution disparity.
93
Figure 3.7. The proportion of trials in which each possible leg of a problem was
selected as the first leg of a route by pigeons for problems with three nodes (top),
four nodes (middle), and five nodes (bottom). The possible legs of a problem are rank
ordered on the x axis from shortest (left) to longest (right).
BEING DIRECT : CAN PIGEONS PLAN AHEAD ? 95
similar to those used previously, except that now the pigeons only encountered
problems with four nodes. Additionally, the route a pigeon selected during the
course of a trial was evaluated to determine if it met a criterion for efficiency.
The pigeons were required to select a route whose solution was greater than
or equal to that of the criterion before continuing onto the next trial. If the
route that the pigeon selected during the first pass through the trial did not
meet or exceed the criterion, a correction trial occurred until the pigeon had
a solution that was above the criterion. Specifically, for an initial block of 10
daily sessions (120 trials/session) the route that a pigeon selected during the
course of a trial had to be shorter than 42 percent of all possible routes for that
problem. The birds were required to select a route that was shorter than
50 percent of all routes and then a route that was shorter than 66 percent of
all possible routes during a third and a fourth block of 10 sessions,
respectively.
To see if our procedures had an impact on the pigeons’ routes, we calculated
two difference measures. For the first measure, we subtracted the mean length of
the routes selected by the pigeon from the mean length of the routes selected by
the Monte Carlo model (MC–P score). The MC–P score should increase if the
routes the pigeons select become shorter. For the second measure we subtracted
the mean length of the routes selected by the pigeon in each daily session
from the mean length of the routes selected by the nearest-neighbor model
(NN–P difference score). This difference score should decrease as the distance
of the routes declines.
Figure 3.8 (top panel) shows that as the criterion was imposed the routes
the pigeons selected became more efficient compared to the earlier study and
a baseline condition with four nodes that was conducted prior to the start of
the follow-up. Specifically, the difference in distance between the routes that
the pigeons and the Monte Carlo model selected became larger (MC–P, black
bars), whereas the difference in distance between the routes the pigeons and
the nearest-neighbor model selected decreased. In addition, as the perfor-
mance criterion was increased the changes in the difference scores become
more robust. The numbers in the white bars in Figure 3.8 (top panel) show
the proportion of the pigeons’ routes that conformed to the nearest-neighbor
route. As the performance criterion increased the pigeons used a proximity
rule with more regularity. Thus, one way that the pigeons became more effi-
cient was to utilize proximity cues during the route formation process. The
bottom panel in Figure 3.8 indicates that as the criterion increased so too
did the proportion of trials in which the pigeons selected a cluster as the first
leg of their route. The fact that the birds were selecting the shortest leg as
the first leg of a route does not necessarily indicate that this was the
Figure 3.8. (Top) The difference in the length of the routes selected by pigeons and
the Monte Carlo model (MC - P, filled bars) and by pigeons and the nearest neigh-
bor model (NN - P, unfilled bars) during the different criterion conditions. The
proportion of trips selected by the pigeon that were identical to those taken by the
nearest neighbor model is indicated by the unfilled bar. (Bottom) The proportion of
trials that each possible leg of a problem was selected as the first leg of a route by
pigeons for problems with four nodes for the different criterion conditions (baseline,
42%, 50%, 66%) and by the Monte Carlo model. The possible legs of a problem are
rank ordered on the x axis from shortest (1) to longest (6).
BEING DIRECT : CAN PIGEONS PLAN AHEAD ? 97
Figure 3.9. The proportion of routes taken by the pigeons that conformed to the
neighbor model during Experiment 3 as a function of the rank (1 to 6) of the first
leg used in the neighbor route and performance criterion (baseline, 42%, 50%, 66%).
mechanism for improved efficiency, only a tendency to select two nodes that
were close together. However, Figure 3.9 indicates that not only were the
pigeons selecting the shortest leg of a problem as the first leg of their route,
they also had a greater tendency to utilize a neighbor route (a more efficient
route) when doing so.
that reported by MacGregor and Omerod (1996) and other comparable work
(Vickers et al., 2001). In our study, the routes selected by people were signifi-
cantly less efficient than optimal. Likewise, the routes selected by people
tended to be more comparable to those of the local nearest neighbor for prob-
lems with the highest solution disparity. There are at least two possible
differences between our study and those conducted by other researchers
using pen-and-paper tasks that might account for the reduced efficiency of
people in the current study. In our study the participants selected a node
and it changed color (so the participants did not have to remember which
node they had visited), but there were no visible lines connecting the nodes,
as in the pen-and-paper studies. Thus, our task may have placed a greater
demand upon memory. Additionally, in our study the participants were
required to take a one-way trip, while in the other studies mentioned above
the participants had to complete a round trip. It may be the case that effi-
ciently solving one-way TSPs may be more challenging than completing a
round trip and also may account for some of the performance differences that
were observed.
The routes selected by the pigeons in our initial experiment, though more
efficient than those predicted by the Monte Carlo model, were less efficient
that those selected by people and the nearest-neighbor model. The fact that
the pigeons selected relatively efficient routes is consistent with other work
(MacDonald & Wilkie, 1990; MacDonald, 1994; Gallistel & Cramer,
1996; Cramer & Gallistel, 1997; Miyata & Fujita, 2010) and is impressive
given the diverse population of problems the pigeons were presented with in
our task. The difference in efficiency between the pigeons and the Monte
Carlo model appeared to be due to the fact that the pigeons, but not the
Monte Carlo model, rarely selected the most inefficient route. Notably, the
pigeons tended to be less efficient than would be expected if using a nearest-
neighbor solution. The finding is similar to that reported for rats (Rattus nor-
vegicus) given TSP-like problems (Blaser & Ginchansky, 2012). In that study,
rats were allowed to travel to each of 10 baited targets in any sequence after
departing a start location. Like the pigeons in the current study, the rats
selected routes that were more efficient than those produced by a Monte Carlo
model but less efficient than those of the nearest-neighbor solution. However,
in both our initial study with pigeons and the study by Rachel Blaser and
Rachel Ginchansky (2012) the animals’ motivation for producing efficient
routes may have been low.
In a second experiment we made the traveling demands more challenging,
and the pigeons responded by improving the efficiency of their solutions, pri-
marily using two techniques. Pigeons tended to start using the nearest-
BEING DIRECT : CAN PIGEONS PLAN AHEAD ? 99
neighbor solution with greater frequency, choosing nodes that were closer to
their current position on the monitor. Other work has also demonstrated that
animals will use the nearest-neighbor solution to solve TSP-like problems.
Hiromitsu Miyata and Kazuo Fujita (2010) required that pigeons travel to
two or three nodes before reaching a goal location on a computer screen.
The configuration of the nodes changed such that the nodes were on a line
or at the corners of a virtual square across experiments. The pigeons often
choose the nearest location to the starting point first before moving onto other
neighboring nodes, though this resulted in a less efficient route (similar to the
pigeons in the current study). Similarly, Charles Janson (1998) found that in
the natural environment monkeys tended to go to the closest available food
resource even when a more distant resource was substantially more useful
(Janson, 2007).
Related to the neighbor strategy, the pigeons in the current study also
tended to select clusters of nodes as part of their solution to improve route effi-
ciency in our second study. The tendency of the pigeons to initially seek out a
cluster of nodes is consistent with other work indicating that animals given
similar types of problems will try and travel to clusters of nodes before moving
onto nodes that are spaced farther apart and farther away. For instance,
Audrey Cramer and Randy Gallistel (1997) had vervet monkeys (Chlorocebus
pygerythrus) travel to several destinations to collect food. During some condi-
tions the food was clustered so that one side of the test environment had a
large cluster of locations, whereas the other side had relatively fewer locations.
The vervet monkeys tended to travel to the large cluster of locations first
before completing the remainder of their route, similar to the pigeons in the
current study. Importantly, this result also suggests that both groups of trav-
elers represented—perhaps in a “map”—most if not all of the nodes in the
problem before selecting a route.
goal. The birds previewed the entire maze before the color of the screen
changed, cuing the pigeons to move the target to the goal using a pecking
response. During some tests the maze changed shaped following the preview
phase. In one condition the route used to get to the goal remained the same
(despite the change in the maze), but in another condition the route changed.
Across a variety of measure the performance of the pigeons declined when the
maze changed and the pigeons were required to implement a new route to
solve the maze compared to when the route did not change. Likewise, in a
related study Miyata and Fujita (2008) used a similar procedure, but testing
was conducted on a radial-arm-type maze on the computer screen. In that
study the pigeons moved a target from the distal end of one arm of the maze
through the center and then to a goal located at the distal end of another
arm. During some test conditions the goal switched locations to another arm
compared to the preview phase. The goal switched one or more “steps” on
the outbound arm before the pigeon moved the target through the center.
The authors found evidence indicating that the pigeons would change their
solutions after the change in goal location several steps prior to advancing to
the center of the maze.
These findings and others have suggested that some nonhuman animals
have a representation of the entire set of destinations and plan their routes
before starting the trip. That the pigeons in our study were more efficient than
the Monte Carlo model indicates that they were not selecting nodes at random
on most trials. However, this does not necessarily require the use of a cognitive
map or an ability to preplan. We also found that our pigeons tended to select
clusters of nodes and that this tendency increased as a criterion for efficiency
was implemented. The fact that pigeons selected the clusters early in the route
suggests the pigeons scanned a large portion of the monitor for clusters of
nodes before starting the route. Indeed, the clusters may have been a salient
stimulus for the pigeons, which would have resulted in an improvement in
efficiency. The pigeons could use proximity either in the form of detecting
clusters or forming a route based on the nearest-neighbor solution to form a
relatively efficient route. As mentioned in the introduction, a local solution
based on proximity would suggest a relatively local knowledge of the problem
rather than the use of a more global representation that might be consistent
with planning one or more steps ahead.
Some readers may be concerned that the magnitude of the disparities
between the travelers and the various models was relatively small.
My colleagues and I have argued that small differences in efficiency will multi-
ply over time. Another concern is that while the travelers appear to solve these
problems efficiency, the TSP tests here are not a valid measure of traveling
BEING DIRECT : CAN PIGEONS PLAN AHEAD ? 101
by S, and the location of the end box for the birds in the one-way group is indicated
by E. The Cartesian grid used to position the feeders is shown but was not visible to
the birds. The number of choices and direction of choices to each feeder are indicated
by the arrows. There were a total of 16 first feeder choices for each configuration for
each group. The width of the arrow corresponds with the number of choices to a
particular feeder; bolder arrows indicate more choices to a feeder (arrow width of 4
font ¼ 16 choices). The arrow with the N to the far right of the panels indicates a
northerly direction.
We set up the floor of the room as a Cartesian grid (x–y coordinate system)
to help the experimenters position the feeders. Each cell was 30.5 cm wide,
and there were a total of 63 cells. We had two types of trials; during
random-condition trials the position of the three feeders was determined ran-
domly from the total set of cells with the rule that the feeders could not occupy
adjacent cells. During test-condition trials we arranged the feeders into one of
16 different predetermined test configurations designed to explore whether
the pigeons could plan one step ahead (see Figure 3.10). Center-near versus
peripheral-far configurations (Figure 3.10, A–B) were designed to see whether
the birds would prefer to go to a nearby central feeder or one of two more dis-
tant feeders in the periphery after departing S. We used the one-way/round-
trip global configurations (Figure 3.10, C–E) to examine if the pigeons would
choose an efficient global solution instead using a more proximal strategy. For
the global strategy configurations test, configurations F–H (Figure 3.10), the
feeders for the second choices were always the same distance and angle from
the feeder that we predicted the birds were likely to choose first. Proximity was
less likely to play a role in the second choices for either group for these tests.
On the basis of the work with the virtual TSP task reported earlier, we developed
cluster configurations to see if clusters of feeders would be preferred compared to
a lone feeder (Figure 3.10). We developed arc configurations, in which all three
feeders were spaced equally on an arc whose geometric center was either towards
(configuration O) or away (configuration P) from S, which allowed us to exam-
ine for choice preferences given a constant angle and distance relative to S.
There were eight trials in each daily session. During each daily session four of
the trials were random-condition trials and the other four were test-condition
trials; the order of the trials was randomly determined. The random trials men-
tioned above were used in part to disperse the test trials and maintain traveling
performance. Sampling from the pool of test configurations for each daily ses-
sion was done randomly without replacement. Testing continued until the birds
completed three sets with each test configuration (3 × 16 = 48 total test trials)
and a corresponding number of trials with the random configurations.
104 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 3.11. The distance of the routes taken by the pigeons and the three models. The
values are taken across all groups and conditions for each traveler.
BEING DIRECT : CAN PIGEONS PLAN AHEAD ? 105
0.75 m for the round-trip group compared to selecting feeder 1. The round-
trip group made 10 of their 13 second choices to feeder 3, consistent with a
global knowledge of the remaining destinations and planning ahead. For con-
figurations A–E, when the pigeons primarily appeared to go to the next closest
feeder, proximity and other geometric features related to the second choice
were not held constant. When proximity to feeders was kept constant during
the second choice for testing with configuration F the pattern of choices for
both groups was consistent with planning ahead.
Test configurations G and H were similar to configuration F in that prox-
imity was held constant for the second choice. For these two configurations,
the second choices for the birds in the one-way group were highly consistent
with planning ahead, as 25 of 31 of their choices were to feeder 2 (a savings
of 1.32 and 1.83 m, respectively). The second choices for the birds in the
round-trip group were more mixed, however, as 14 of their choices were to
feeder 2 and 15 were to feeder 3.
While the results from configurations A–D indicated that the pigeons used
a proximity rule to make their first choice, the results from testing with con-
figurations E–H indicated that the pigeons appeared capable of planning one
step ahead. We observed that during testing with configuration E the pigeons
in the one-way group consistently avoided traveling to a proximal feeder first,
which resulted in a more efficient route. Likewise, for configurations F–H we
observed that the birds in the one-way group consistently chose a feeder that
was consistent with the most efficient global route when proximity between
second choices was held constant (configurations F–H).
The evidence from configurations E–H suggests that the pigeons can plan
one or more steps ahead, yet the results from configurations A–D for the
pigeons indicate that they prefer to go to a proximal feeder even when it results
in a less efficient overall route. One explanation for these apparent inconsis-
tencies is that in one case the saliency of the proximity option (configuration
B) was likely much larger than for the other problems. Also, for configurations
A–D the net difference in the distance of the local/proximal solution com-
pared to the global solution was relatively small (0.66 m, 1.21 m, 0.31 m,
and 0.16 m for configurations A–D, respectively). The small differences
between the routes are consistent with the idea of low solution disparity that
was introduced with the operant work reported earlier. Either the pigeons may
have had a difficult time discerning the difference in distance between the proxi-
mal and global solutions or the traveling costs associated with either solution may
have been quite small (e.g., energy costs or delays to food in the end location).
In contrast, for configurations F, G, and H, in which the pigeons in the
one-way group showed evidence of planning ahead, the difference between
BEING DIRECT : CAN PIGEONS PLAN AHEAD ? 107
the local and global solutions was notably larger at 1.83 m for F, 1.32 m for G,
and 1.83 m for H. The results from configurations F–H for the pigeons in the
round-trip group also showed evidence of planning ahead. The evidence for
planning ahead by the pigeons in the round-trip group was more variable than
for the one-way group, however. The net difference in the distance of the sol-
utions between the local and global strategies for problems F–H was larger for
the one-way group than the round-trip group (0.76–1.17 m round-trip versus
1.32–1.83 m for the one-way group) and may have accounted for the addi-
tional variability in choices by the round-trip group. In general, the net differ-
ence in distance in the routes based on proximity or planning ahead was
higher for these problems than for configurations A–D, perhaps accounting
for more reliance on planning.
Cluster configurations. For the cluster configuration tests the length of the
routes for the round-trip group would be the same regardless of whether or
not the birds traveled to the cluster or the single feeder first. Therefore, the
pigeons in the round-trip group might be expected to travel to the cluster of
two nodes first (assuming that both are visited in sequence) after departing S
to maximize their reward early rather than later in the trip. The birds in the
one-way group had a bit more difficult task in that they had to potentially bal-
ance going to the cluster first with the efficiency of the total route.
Across cluster test configurations the birds in the round-trip group showed no
preference for going to either the cluster or lone feeder first. Sixteen of the 32
choices were to the cluster across both test configurations for this group. The birds
in the one-way group had a strong preference to go to the location in the room
that would minimize the distance of their route regardless of whether a cluster
or lone feeder was present (Figure 3.10). Because of the geometric relationship
between S, the feeders, and E, it was 1.21 m shorter for the birds in the one-
way trip to travel to the feeder(s) that was positioned vertically relative to E (Figure
3.10) independent of the position of the cluster. Correspondingly, all 32 of the
choices were to the location (16 choices to feeders 1, configuration M; 16 choices
to the cluster for configuration N) that minimized the total distance of their route.
The results from the operant work reported above indicated that the
pigeons had a strong tendency to select a cluster of two nodes as their first
leg of their trip. In contrast, the results from the tests in the open room indi-
cated that pigeons did not have a preference to travel to the cluster. One pos-
sibility that might account for the apparent difference is that the birds
identified the two feeders as being part of a cluster when viewing them on a
monitor but not when moving in the room. We positioned the feeders
approximately 30 cm apart in the room, so the birds may not have categorized
these feeders as being part of a cluster.
108 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Arc configurations. The pigeons had a slight preference for choosing feeder 2
compared to feeders 1 and 3 for configuration O (7 choices to feeder 1, 15
choices to feeder 2, 10 choices to feeder 3). For configuration P, the pigeons
had a preference for traveling to feeder 3 as their first choice.
when making their first or second choice along the route. Our work is consis-
tent with that of other researchers suggesting that pigeons may be capable of
planning ahead (Miyata & Fujita, 2006, 2008). For these problems E–H the
additional costs associated with choosing a route based on proximity only
may have facilitated the pigeons planning where to go beyond the next feeder.
Although the pigeons may have planned ahead, the nature of the spatial rep-
resentation that the pigeons may have formed remains elusive. The pigeons’
second choices during testing with configurations E–H indicates that the birds
were likely aware of the locations of the remaining feeders and planned accord-
ingly. If a cognitive map is an understanding of the geometric relationships
between objects in an environment that can be used to determine efficient
and new routes, then the pigeons’ behavior suggests that they may have had
such a representation. Of course, other possible mechanisms that might
account for such performance remain. Michael Brown and Michael Drew
(1998) found that the ability of rats to discriminate between familiar and unfa-
miliar spatial locations improved with perceptual learning. In that study one
group of rats was exposed to the visual environment surrounding an eight-
arm radial maze, whereas another group of rats was exposed to a nearby control
room in which testing was not conducted. Later during testing, both groups of
rats performed a memory task on the same maze in the test environment. Both
groups of rats acquired the task at the same rate and performed at comparable
levels during testing. Notably, the rats that were preexposed to the test environ-
ment were somewhat better at discriminating between arms that had and had
not been previously visited during the memory test. Thus, the effect of expo-
sure and subsequent improvement in discrimination of location may be due
to a perceptual process rather than one of planning.
Another possibility is that the pigeons may have used a general response sol-
ution during Experiment 2 that resulted in behavior that was also consistent
with planning ahead. The pigeons in the round-trip group may have learned
to make a circular pattern after departing S, whereas the pigeons in the one-
way group may have learned to make a Z-like route to get from S to E. This
later explanation seems unlikely as the pigeons did not have extensive experi-
ence with the arrays. Likewise, the insertion of the random configurations
with the test configuration may have disrupted a general type of response from
developing.
As a pigeon moves from one node to the next, particularly for the study in
the experimental room, it is faced with the task of determining what feeders
have been visited and which remain. Robert Cook and colleagues tested rats
on a 12-arm radial-maze memory task and found that the rats likely used a
dual-code memory process (Cook et al., 1985). Early during the trial, when
BEING DIRECT : CAN PIGEONS PLAN AHEAD ? 111
only a few of the arms had been selected, the rats appeared to be using retro-
spective information, but as the trial progressed prospective memory processes
appeared to play a stronger role. It is unclear if the pigeons in the current study
were similarly using a dual-code process, but it would not be an unreasonable
expectation. Future work that looks at when the pigeons encode the feeders
into memory and whether or not they are using both prospective and retro-
spective memory processes would be useful.
To conclude, we have discovered that pigeons, like primates, can generate
efficient routes to travel to multiple destinations. Like primates, the pigeons
appear to employ multiple solutions to finding an efficient route. The proximity
of a node relative to the pigeons’ current location had a large impact on the
pigeons’ route choices, particularly when the initial gain was large and the detri-
ment to overall route efficiency small. Pigeons, like primates, appear capable of
planning beyond the next step when necessary. The nature of the geometric
knowledge used to make such decisions is consistent with a cognitive map; how-
ever, other possible mechanisms cannot be ruled out. Future research using TSPs
will be important and useful to delineate the nature of the spatial cognitive infor-
mation that pigeons and other animals used to travel to multiple destinations.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to acknowledge all of the undergraduate students who have
worked in my laboratory over the years. Your dedication and commitment
to exploration and research has been inspiring.
INTRODUCTION
The last three decades have seen a remarkable increase in interest in the pos-
sibility that animals’ acquisition of adaptive patterns of behavior can be facili-
tated by their observing the behavior of others. Such social learning, as it is
often called, is currently seen as playing an important role in animals as diverse
as ants and chimpanzees learning almost anything from how to choose a mate
to how to handle potentially dangerous prey.
Despite the ever-expanding knowledge of the ways in which social learning
affects the development of adaptive behaviors, important questions remain
concerning the mechanisms, functions, and evolution of social learning. Con-
sequently, in this chapter, I not only review a sample of instances in which
social interactions have been clearly shown to influence the ways in which ani-
mals come to perform biologically important behaviors but also discuss several
aspects of social learning that remain controversial.
controversial issues in the area are available in a number of books and special
issues of journals devoted to studies of social learning (e.g., Zentall & Galef,
1988; Heyes & Galef, 1996; Fragaszy & Perry, 2003; Galef & Heyes, 2004;
Laland & Galef, 2009; Kendal et al., 2010; Whiten et al., 2011; Nielsen
et al., 2012), as well as in innumerable refereed articles in scientific journals,
a selection of which are cited in the reference section at the end of this chapter.
The songs of male cowbirds that are most effective in eliciting positive
responses from females are also the songs that most frequently elicit attacks
by other male cowbirds, causing submissive males to abandon singing highly
effective songs. As a result, only the dominant males in a group can continue
to produce song variants that have a high probability of eliciting positive
responses from females, and females therefore have a high probability of
mating with socially dominant males.
First and most obviously, although most rats in a target population ingested
a lethal dose of poison when it was first introduced, a few ate less than a lethal
amount of bait, became ill, and learned, as a result of that single experience
with the poisoned bait, to avoid further ingestion of it (Garcia & Koelling,
1966). Second, and far more discouraging to Steiniger, young rats born to sur-
vivors of initial contact with a poisoned bait totally rejected that bait without
ever even tasting it. Bait avoidance learned by surviving rats appeared to be
somehow transmitted to their young.
Mertice Clark and I (Galef & Clark, 1971a) brought adult wild rats
captured on garbage dumps into the laboratory, established the rats in small
colonies, and offered them two foods, one of which we had contaminated with
a mild toxin. As expected, the captive rats rapidly learned to eat only the
untainted food and continued for weeks to avoid the previously tainted food
even when provided with untainted samples of it. Further, as Steiniger had
found, young subsequently born to such trained colonies refused to even taste
the previously tainted food that the adults of their colony had learned to avoid
(Galef & Clark, 1971a).
Because the phenomenon of social transmission of bait avoidance could be
studied under controlled conditions, investigation of social-learning processes
leading to transmission of food choices from adult rats to their offspring
became possible, and several different types of interaction between young
and adult rats were found to result in transmission of learned food preferences
from adult rats to their offspring (for review, see Galef, 1985).
Selecting a place to eat—Young wild rats emerging from their nest site to
take their first meals of solid food use visual cues to find adults at a distance
from the nest (blind rat pups do not show the effect) and approach them
(Galef & Clark, 1971b). In fact, placing an anesthetized adult rat in the vicin-
ity of one of two otherwise identical feeding sites leads pups to both visit and
feed at the site close to the anesthetized rat far more frequently than at the
alternative (Galef, 1981).
Indeed, adult rats do not even have to be present at a feeding site to increase
its attractiveness to their young. As adult rats leave a feeding site and return to
their nest, they deposit scent trails that young rats follow when seeking food
(Galef & Buckley, 1996). Furthermore, while feeding, rats defecate and uri-
nate in the area where they eat, and these residual cues, like the actual presence
of an adult at a feeding site, attract pups and cause them to eat in locations that
adults have exploited (Galef, 1985; Laland & Plotkin, 1990).
Of course, in natural circumstances foods are often patchily distributed.
Consequently, learning to eat in a location where adults have eaten often leads
to eating a food that adults have eaten.
SOCIAL LEARNING , TRADITION , AND CULTURE : DATA AND DEBATE 119
Selecting a food to eat—Even before birth, young rats can obtain informa-
tion from their mother concerning at least some of the foods that she has eaten
while gestating them. Peter Hepper (1988) fed garlic to pregnant rats and
then, shortly after garlic-fed mothers delivered their litters, transferred the
young to foster mothers that had never eaten garlic. When subsequently
offered a choice between dishes containing garlic and onion, pups that had
been gestated by a mother eating garlic spent more time near the dish contain-
ing garlic than pups gestated by mothers not exposed to garlic. Similarly,
Smotherman (1982) found that injecting lemon flavor into the amniotic fluid
of a rat mother resulted in her offspring, when adult, increasing their prefer-
ence for lemon-flavored food.
The flavor of foods that a dam eats affects not only the flavor of her amni-
otic fluid but also the flavor of her milk. At weaning, rat pups prefer foods
with flavors that they have experienced in their mother’s milk (for review,
see Galef, 1985).
My students and I have also found that after a naïve young rat (an observer
rat) interacts for a few minutes with an adult rat that has recently eaten a distinc-
tively flavored food (a demonstrator), the observer rat shows a markedly
enhanced preference for whatever food its demonstrator ate (for review, see
Galef, 1988, 1996). Similar effects have been found in other mammalian spe-
cies ranging from bats (Ratcliffe & ter Hofstede, 2005) to hyenas (Yoerg, 1991).
Analyses of the processes underlying this last type of social induction of fla-
vor preference have repeatedly shown that, if an observer rat is to develop a
preference for the food that its demonstrator ate, the observer rat has to expe-
rience the odor of a food at the same time that it experiences the breath of a
demonstrator rat. Simple exposure to a food odor in isolation does not pro-
duce the effect.
Chemical analysis of rat breath reveals significant concentrations of carbon
disulfide (CS2), and experiments show that experience of a food odor together
with CS2 results in enhanced preference for the food almost as great as experi-
ence with a demonstrator rat that has eaten that food (Galef, 1988). Further,
recent electrophysiological studies of the olfactory system of mice have
revealed a specialized olfactory subsystem expressing the receptor guanylyl
cyclase that is highly sensitive to CS2. Gene-targeted mice with disruptions
of the transduction cascade that transforms receptor response to CS2 into elec-
trical impulses in the nervous system not only lose sensitivity to CS2 but also
fail to show social influences on their food choices (Munger et al., 2010).
Thus, there appears to be a specialized portion of the olfactory system in mice
(and presumably other rodent species as well) dedicated to social learning of
food preferences.
120 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
similar foods, fall prey to similar predators, and utilize similar nesting sites.
The tits are year-round residents, but the flycatchers come to Europe only to
breed in the spring and summer. Consequently, the tits are likely to be well
informed as to local conditions, and migrant flycatchers might obtain useful
information from the tits when selecting locations in which to nest and rear
their young.
During the winter, Janne-Tuomas Seppanen and Jukka Forsman (2007)
provided great and blue tits in eight locations with an excess number of nest
boxes. Further, before the flycatchers arrived in the spring, the experimenters
decorated all the nest boxes in each area in which the tits had chosen to nest
with either a circle or square so that it would appear to arriving migrant fly-
catchers that all tits in an area had chosen nest sites marked with one symbol
or the other. Also, before the flycatchers arrived, the experimenters placed a sec-
ond nest box a few meters from each nest box the tits were occupying and
marked the second nest box with the opposite symbol so that it would look
to arriving flycatchers as though tits were avoiding nest sites with that mark.
When the first flycatchers arrived on the study sites in spring, the experi-
menters placed pairs of empty nest boxes, one marked with a triangle and
one marked with a circle, in each of the eight study sites so that arriving fly-
catchers could choose between them. The flycatchers clearly preferred nest
boxes of the same type apparently preferred by tits in their area and by late
in the mating season were three times as likely to nest in this type of nest
box as in the other. Male flycatchers were seen to visit tits’ nests early in the
breeding season, and information gathered during these visits may have played
a role in providing the flycatchers with information (Forsman & Thomson,
2008).
(a mobbing call), and begins to behave aggressively toward (mob) the preda-
tor. Other birds approach and join in (hence the term mobbing), both giving
mobbing calls and attacking the predator. Owls frequently prey on European
blackbirds, and when they see an owl, wild-caught, adult blackbirds give mob-
bing calls and harass the potential predator.
Using a simple but ingenious apparatus in which demonstrator and
observer blackbirds were separated by an opaque barrier, Curio (1988) allowed
an experienced blackbird to look at a stuffed owl and direct mobbing calls
towards it while a naïve blackbird looked at a stuffed, harmless (nonpredatory)
bird. In response to the mobbing vocalizations of the experienced bird looking
at the owl, the naïve bird started to give mobbing vocalizations of its own and
to act aggressively, but towards the harmless object at which it was looking,
not towards the owl that was invisible to it.
Days later, when the previously naïve bird was again shown the stuffed,
harmless bird, it gave mobbing vocalizations and attacked it. Indeed, this pre-
viously naïve bird had learned so well that it could now serve as a model for a
new naïve bird, inducing it also to mob the harmless object. Curio was thus
able to establish a tradition of mobbing a harmless stuffed bird in a captive
population of blackbirds.
Recent field studies by Heather Cornell and colleagues (2011) provide evi-
dence of similar social learning of mobbing responses both within and
between generations of American crows (Corvus brachyrhyncos) living outside
the laboratory. Individual marked crows that had been trapped, banded,
and released by an experimenter wearing a distinctive mask gave mobbing
vocalizations to the masked figure and attracted other crows. Both other adult
crows and offspring of the banded crows subsequently mobbed any human
wearing the distinctive mask while not mobbing individuals wearing a
different mask.
someone else’s choice of a partner, you will do no worse than they did while
avoiding any potential costs of evaluating potential mates.
Dugatkin and colleagues worked with laboratory-born descendants of wild
guppies (Poecilia reticulata), a small freshwater fish familiar to all aquarium
keepers. Guppies were an appropriate choice for such experiments because in
their natural habitat (streams in Trinidad, where Dugatkin captured them)
guppies select partners and breed under conditions that would allow them to
observe and copy one another’s mate choices.
Dugatkin conducted his experiments with guppies in a simple apparatus
consisting of a large aquarium placed between two smaller aquaria. He posi-
tioned a male “target” guppy in each of the small aquaria and a “focal” female
guppy, restrained in a transparent tube, in the middle of the central aquarium.
He then introduced a second female (a “model” female) into one of the two
smaller aquaria but separated from the target male by a transparent barrier.
The focal female, constrained in the transparent tube in the central aquar-
ium, then watched while one of her target males courted the model female
and the other remained alone. Dugatkin then removed the model female from
the apparatus, released the focal female from the tube constraining her, and
allowed her to choose between her two target males. Seventeen of 20 focal
females tested in this way spent more time near the target male they had seen
courting a model female than near the target male that had remained alone.
Although this result is surely consistent with the hypothesis that female
guppies copy one another’s choices of partner, it is also possible that female
guppies, members of a species that gathers in shoals in nature, simply prefer
a place where they have previously seen two fish to a place where they have
seen only one fish or that the behavior of a male who has recently courted is
different from and more attractive to females than that of a male that has
not, and so forth. Experiments to test such alternative explanations are easy
to carry out, and their outcomes allowed Dugatkin to exclude many such
alternative explanations of the females’ preferences for males they had seen
courting other females. Female guppies, like females of some other species of
fish, as well as of some avian species, prefer to mate with individuals that they
have seen courting others (for review, see White, 2004).
Such laboratory evidence of a tendency to copy the mate choices of conspe-
cifics suggests an explanation for some unusual behavior seen in species (e.g.,
sage grouse [Centrocercus urophasianus] or prairie chickens [Tympanuchus
cupido]) in which males compete for females on communal breeding grounds
(leks) that females visit for no purpose other than to choose a male and mate.
Often, only a small percentage of the males on any lek get to mate, and these
fortunate males each mate with many female visitors.
SOCIAL LEARNING , TRADITION , AND CULTURE : DATA AND DEBATE 125
the normal way, then teaching would be involved. Specific, real examples of
the more complex forms of social learning (teaching, imitation, emulation)
are discussed in the next few paragraphs.
Teaching
As mentioned above, teaching differs from other types of social learning in
that, when teaching, a teacher suffers some short-term cost (e.g., a loss of effi-
ciency or delay or loss of reward) with the result that a pupil acquires some
behavior more rapidly than it would have if it weren’t taught (Caro & Hauser,
1992). In most social-learning processes involving a knowledgeable demon-
strator and naïve observer, it is the behavior of the observer that changes.
In teaching both the demonstrator’s and the observer’s behaviors change
(Hoppitt et al., 2008).
There has been some question as to the importance of teaching even in
human preindustrial societies (Laland & Hoppitt, 2003), and, of course, it is
inappropriate in the absence of careful studies to assume that we somehow
know how hunter-gatherers acquire skills. Perhaps surprisingly, less is known
of the role of social learning in the acquisition of life skills by humans than
by many other animals, and formal, language-based instruction of the kind
typical in industrial societies seems to be rare in the preindustrial world. Still,
recent anthropological observations suggest that teaching, as defined in the
preceding paragraph (Caro & Hauser, 1992), plays an important role in main-
tenance of the complex behavioral traditions that are characteristic of human
populations in pre- as well as postindustrial societies (e.g., Ruddle & Chester-
field, 1997; Diamond, 2001).
Although a handful of possible instances of teaching by apes and cetaceans
have been provided in the literature, many find these examples relatively
unconvincing (for review, see the discussion of Rendell & Whitehead,
2001). Perhaps most interesting, with the exception of two instances of pos-
sible of adult chimpanzees teaching their young to crack nuts (Boesch,
1991), there have been no reports of teaching in free-living chimpanzees or
bonobos (Pan paniscus) despite tens of thousands of hours of observation.
Consequently, recent reports of teaching in animals with much less sophisti-
cated nervous systems than those of great apes, whales, or porpoises, far
exceeding the criteria for teaching proposed by Caro and Hauser (1992), came
as something of a surprise (for review, see Thornton & Raihani, 2008).
Perhaps the most compelling case of teaching in a nonhuman species
involves wild meerkats (Suricata suricatta). Young meerkats are largely depen-
dent on the adult members of their colony for sustenance, although by the
128 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
time young are three months of age, they can forage for themselves, handling a
variety of prey, including potentially dangerous scorpions.
Observations of free-living meerkats, together with experimental interven-
tions in wild populations, show that the transition to nutritional indepen-
dence is facilitated by adults teaching the young necessary skills (Thornton
& McAuliffe, 2006). Normally, adults consume whatever prey they capture.
However, when in the presence of begging young, adults often kill or disable
prey (scorpions are disabled by removing their stingers), then carry the food
to juveniles.
As pups become older and more experienced at handling scorpions, adults
give the young intact scorpions increasingly often. Apparently, adults judge
the ability of young to handle scorpions from the maturity of their begging
calls, and playing recordings of begging calls of older pups to adult meerkats
providing scorpions to younger individuals causes the adults to bring intact
scorpions, even though the young being fed are not yet ready to handle such
dangerous items. Conversely, playing recordings of the calls of young pups
to adults provisioning older individuals causes adults to increase the frequency
with which they deliver disabled scorpions to older pups.
Further, as the Caro and Hauser (1992) definition of teaching requires, the
provisioning strategy of adult meerkats accelerates the acquisition of scorpion-
handling skills by juveniles. Pups given disabled scorpions by a human experi-
menter learned to handle intact scorpions effectively at a younger age than
pups that had been artificially provisioned with either dead scorpions or
hard-boiled eggs.
Lest you think that teaching is confined to big-brained mammals, it is
worth looking closely at such phenomena as the waggle dance of the honey
bee (see Chapter 12) and tandem running in ants, where successful foragers
guide their nest mates to newly discovered food sources (Franks & Richard-
son, 2006). When in the company of a naïve nest mate, an ant of the species
Temnothorax albipennis that knows the location of a food source moves slowly
toward it, travelling in spurts and pauses. During such tandem runs to food,
the leader slows its pace, waiting while the follower looks around, apparently
to examine landmarks, and the leader moves rapidly toward food only after
its follower taps it with its antennae. The result of this unusual behavior is that
a leader ant sacrifices efficiency in returning to food (an ant acting as leader of
a nest mate takes four times as long to travel to food as it would if it were trav-
elling to food alone), while followers show clear benefits from following, both
finding food far faster when following a leader than when searching on their
own and returning more directly to their nest than did their leader after its ini-
tial discovery of food.
SOCIAL LEARNING , TRADITION , AND CULTURE : DATA AND DEBATE 129
Imitation
Interest in the possibility that animals are able to imitate, defined as learn-
ing to do an act from seeing it done (Thorndike, 1898), dates to the late nine-
teenth century when George Romanes (1884), a disciple of Charles Darwin,
provided anecdotal observations consistent with the view, widely held at the
time, that animals could acquire complex patterns of behavior by observing
and then imitating the activities of either humans or members of their own
species. Late in the nineteenth century, the view that animals could imitate
was challenged by Edward Thorndike (1898), an early comparative psycholo-
gist, who was the first to examine the ability of animals to imitate under con-
trolled conditions.
Thorndike studied the ability of his subjects to learn, from observing
trained demonstrators, how to escape from various “puzzle boxes” that
required hungry animals to make simple responses (e.g., pull a string or step
on a lever) to gain access to food. Thorndike’s failure to find evidence that
cats, dogs, or chickens could learn such simple acts by watching trained
conspecifics demonstrate them led him to conclude that animals cannot
imitate.
Imitation in animals was of great interest because an ability to imitate was
seen as indicating the presence of complex cognitive abilities (though more
recently that view has been challenged; see Heyes, 1994, 2012). Conse-
quently, subsequent generations of students of animal learning found Thorn-
dike’s failure to provide evidence of imitation in animals an irresistible
challenge, and for 90 years innumerable experiments were undertaken using
more sophisticated versions of Thorndike’s puzzle boxes in the attempt to
demonstrate that animals could, in fact, “from an act witnessed, learn to per-
form that act” (Thorndike, 1911, p. 79) and were therefore capable of com-
plex forms of mental activity.
However, it proved impossible using methods akin to Thorndike’s to
exclude the possibility that some less cognitively demanding social learning
process (such as local enhancement) was responsible for any facilitation of
naïve animals’ acquisition of a behavior that it had seen demonstrated by a
trained conspecific. For example, in a typical study (and one that was widely
cited at one time as demonstrating learning by imitation), kittens given an
opportunity to observe their mother pressing a lever to obtain food sub-
sequently learned to press the lever far more rapidly than kittens that had
watched a strange female press the lever for food. The data can be interpreted
as showing either that (1) kittens imitate their mothers or (2) mother cats are
better than unfamiliar adult cats at calling their kittens’ attention to some por-
tion of the environment. Not surprisingly, all serious discussions found
130 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Anecdote—Much of the evidence consistent with the view that animals can imi-
tate comes from serendipitous observations made outside the laboratory, suggesting
that individual animals from chimpanzees (seen to open paint cans, sharpen
pencils, and use sandpaper) to dolphins (reported to copy the behavior of a diver
cleaning the windows on their aquarium) have learned complex patterns of behav-
ior by imitating human caretakers’ behavior (for review, see Moore, 1992).
Perhaps the most famous of the many anecdotal examples of animals imi-
tating human behavior involved a cat that had learned to open a garden gate
by jumping up and depressing the thumb piece of the gate latch with one fore-
paw while simultaneously pushing at the gate post with its hind legs. The
observer of the cat’s behavior concluded that the cat must have seen humans
open the gate by depressing the latch and simultaneously pushing at the gate
and reasoned, “If a hand can do it, why not a paw,” then produced the
required behavior (Romanes, 1884)—maybe, maybe not.
Although Romanes surely observed the behavior he described, there are at
least two reasons to be cautious in attributing such behaviors to animals being
able to learn to do acts from seeing others engage in them. First and most
important, anecdotal observations in uncontrolled environments rarely pro-
vide insight into how improbable, human-like behaviors develop in animals.
Did the cat observe the gate being opened and then reproduce the behavior it had
seen, or did the behavior of a caretaker focus the cat’s attention on the gate latch
and result in numerous contacts with the handle that eventually led to the cat
learning to open the gate by trial and error? It is impossible to tell from just
watching the cat after it has learned the relevant actions.
Second, tens of millions of people watch tens of millions of pets for hours
each day, but it is only in those rare instances when an animal appears to copy
a behavior of its owner that the incident is reported to others. No one talks
about the countless millions of times when pets see their owners engage in a
potentially useful behavior without copying (Visalberghi & Fragaszy, 1990).
Such selective reporting of positive instances cannot exclude chance corre-
spondences between the behavior of an animal and that of humans with
whom the animal interacts.
One approach to avoiding problems inherent in using chance observation
of possibly interesting behaviors is to formalize the observation of behavior
in uncontrolled environments. For example, Anne Russon and Birute
Galdikas (1993) worked at a camp in Borneo where orangutans that had been
captured by poachers and raised in captivity were reintroduced to life in the
wild. The apes were free to come and go from the jungle to the camp, where
they both interacted with the camp’s human inhabitants and were provided
with food while they made the transition to life in the wild.
SOCIAL LEARNING , TRADITION , AND CULTURE : DATA AND DEBATE 133
The behavior of the apes was systematically observed, and video recordings
were made of dozens of behavior sequences in which the apes appeared to copy
human behaviors. For example, a female orangutan unscrewed caps from two
fuel drums, then inserted the end of a hose into one fuel drum, inserted the
other end into her mouth, bellowed her cheeks, and after much fooling
around with the end of the hose that had been in her mouth, placed it in
the other fuel drum. Although the fuel drum the ape had selected to start
her procedure was empty and the timing between sucking on one end of the
hose and inserting it into the second rum was inappropriate, the sequence of
acts was similar to that of a human siphoning fuel from one can to another,
an act regularly carried out by camp staff.
As with the earlier field studies of imitation, although it is impossible to
know just how the ape came to exhibit such a complex series of human-like
behaviors, the numerous cases of potential imitation that Russon and Galdikas
filmed suggest that, under some circumstances, orangutans can imitate.
Perhaps most important, videotapes of the apparently imitative behaviors are
available to those interested in viewing them so that others may make their
own judgments concerning the apes’ behavior. Some will surely be impressed
by the similarity of the apes’ performance to that of humans. Others may won-
der at the apes’ apparent lack of directedness as they move, often painfully
slowly, through a behavior sequence. Indeed, some have argued that apes do
not understand the goal of a demonstrator in the same way that humans do
and consequently do not imitate with the same intentionality, instead simply
reproducing behaviors without connecting those behaviors with their goal
(Tomasello, 2009).
To the contrary, others have suggested that free-living animals learn com-
plex patterns of behavior by imitation and that such imitation provides the
foundation for purported behavioral traditions that have been observed in
many species. However, important questions remain as to how such behaviors
develop in the individuals and populations that exhibit them and the relation-
ship of such patterns of behavior in animals to human culture. Both issues are
discussed in the final sections of this chapter.
carrying the behavioral variants of their natal troops could result in a positive
correlation between genetic and behavioral distance, even if behavioral var-
iants were entirely socially learned. At the time of this writing, interpretation
of Langergraber and colleagues’ (2011) data remains controversial.
Possible Resolution
Evidence appears to be gradually accumulating indicating that behavioral
differences among chimpanzee populations are likely to result from the com-
bined action of genetic, ecological, and social factors. As Kevin Laland and
Vincent Janik (2006, p. 545) have proposed, “Researchers studying animal
culture would be better advised to think in terms of partitioning variance to
alternative sources. The prime issue in the animal culture debate is not
whether a given behavior is learned socially or asocially, but rather how much
of the variance in the behavior can be attributed to social learning.” Some field
researchers seem to agree (Mobius et al., 2008), and a resolution of the “cul-
ture wars,” similar to that which defused the controversy regarding the role
of genes and environment in development of the behavior of individuals,
seems possible. In the final analysis, the cultural hypothesis of the origins of
behavioral diversity among chimpanzee populations is a hypothesis concern-
ing the development of relevant behaviors. Consequently, anticipating parallel
resolutions of the “nature-nurture controversy” and the culture wars is reason-
able (see Chapter 5 in this volume).
their mothers’ behavior while young females seem to learn something of the
proper form of the behavior from watching their mothers. In particular, daugh-
ters, but not sons, insert probes to the same depth into termite nests as did their
mothers. Young of both sexes then had to learn by trial and error how to with-
draw a tool from the nest without knocking off termites (Lonsdorf et al.,
2004). Social interaction, genetic predisposition, and trial-and-error learning
each seem to play some role in development of termite fishing, although the
extent of social influence on development of the behavior was not great.
Nut cracking—Observations of interactions of adult and young chimpan-
zees at nut-cracking sites, like observation of young at termite mounds, are
only partly consistent with the view that nut cracking is socially learned.
Adults frequently chase away juveniles trying to take nuts and stones, and rear-
ing by a mother who did not engage in nut cracking did not slow acquisition
of nut cracking by her offspring (Inoue-Nakamura & Matsuzawa, 1997).
Indeed, Noriko Inoue-Nakamura and Matsuzawa (1997, p. 172) conclude
that “the members of a community provided the infants only with the oppor-
tunity to freely access nuts and stones. These opportunities could facilitate the
individual experience of stone-nut manipulation and result in the apparent
social transmission of tool use behavior among the wild chimpanzees.” Provid-
ing infants with the opportunity to freely access nuts and stones, a form of
local enhancement, can provide the basis for a tradition in a population. How-
ever, as discussed in the next section, the distinction between such social
enhancement of behavior and learning directly by imitation or teaching may
be important in understanding the differences between animal and human
culture.
see no reason to make a distinction, whereas others prefer to restrict use of the
term culture to our own species. All agree that both animal traditions and
human culture function similarly, both providing naïve individuals with access
to innovative adaptive behaviors that others of their species have developed
and reducing potential costs to naïve individuals of acquiring adaptive behav-
iors. However, some argue that human culture serves additional functions
never seen in animal traditions (for example, use of arbitrary social conven-
tions, such as hairstyle or facial decoration, to define group identity [Perry,
2009] or regulation of individual behavior by enforced adherence to specific
systems of rules [Hill, 2009]). Others are less concerned with differences in
function than with differences in both the processes producing traditions in
animals and humans and the nature of the products of those processes (Galef,
2009; Hill, 2009; Tomasello, 2009).
Human culture, particularly human material culture, cumulates over gener-
ations, and as a result can produce increasingly complex and sophisticated arti-
facts and patterns of behavior (Boyd & Richerson, 1996; Tomasello, 2009). A
scant handful of chimpanzee behaviors have been interpreted as providing
possible instances of cumulative culture (for review, see Whiten et al., 2003).
However, each such example is open to alternative, simpler interpretations,
and no one has claimed that any ape has learned any behavior socially that it
could not learn for itself from interacting with its asocial environment.
Much of the behavior in which humans engage is, to the contrary, clearly a
product not of individual learning but of knowledge accumulated across cul-
tural generations. This ratcheting (Tomasello, 1990), seen in all human pop-
ulations, depends upon a naïve observer being able to acquire a close copy of
the behavior of a proficient demonstrator. Only a precise copy can serve as a
base (or scaffold) for subsequent modifications, allowing an iterative process
in which each new modification becomes a scaffold for further modification,
in turn allowing the emergence of gradually increasing complexity in behavior.
Existence of ratcheting in human traditions and its absence in animal tradi-
tions suggests a fundamental difference in the developmental processes sup-
porting animal traditions and human culture (Galef, 1992). For example,
György Gergely and Gergely Csibra (2006) have provided experimental evi-
dence that children will copy the behavior of a model with greater fidelity
when provided with explicit pedagogical cues and suggest that such guided
transmission is essential to the faithful social learning of complex skills. Laur-
aeno Castro and Miguel Toro (2004) suggest that both increased efficiency in
imitation and development of a capacity to approve or disapprove of the learned
behavior of others (a simple form of teaching) were necessary for the emergence
of cumulative culture. In either case, uniquely human processes, particularly
142 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
teaching and precise imitation (which, like teaching, can at least in principle
result in precise copying of behavior), are seen as providing a necessary substrate
for cumulative culture. Current evidence suggests that chimpanzees never teach,
are not as proficient imitators as are humans (Whiten, 2005), and have no sym-
bolic language (unless taught one by humans) with which to instruct others.
Much of animal social learning depends on local enhancement or emu-
lation. As a result of either, a naïve individual has to develop for itself the
behaviors that it directs towards portions of the environment to which the
behavior of others has directed its attention. In local enhancement and emu-
lation, there is no precise copying of behavior and consequently no possibility
of cumulative improvement in performance over behavioral generations.
The extent to which members of traditional human societies engage in
teaching has been controversial (e.g., Whiten et al., 1980; Laland & Hoppitt,
2003), possibly because of undue focus in the ethnographic literature on
explicit linguistic instruction. Such focus tended to overlook nonverbal behav-
iors of potential teachers that facilitating acquisition by their pupils. A recent
review of the archaeological and ethnographic evidence of teaching that adopts
a definition of teaching similar to that employed by students of animal behav-
ior (Caro & Hauser, 1992) suggests “the gradual scaffolding of skills in a nov-
ice through demonstration, intervention and collaboration . . . has played an
essential role in securing the faithful transmission of skills across generations
and should be regarded as the central mechanism through which long-term
and stable material culture traditions are propagated and maintained”
(Tehrani & Riede, 2008, p. 316).
CONCLUSION
Perhaps in time we shall discover that apparent differences between the
products of social learning in humans and animals are trivial rather than pro-
found and that small differences in capacity have resulted in huge differences
in performance. Until then, we need to explore both differences and similar-
ities in the behavioral substrate(s) of human and animal “culture.”
Laland (2004) has suggested that an ability to evaluate the relative utility of
behavioral alternatives may be a cognitive requirement for the emergence of
human-like cumulative culture. Tomasello (1999) has proposed that imitation
and teaching, which he sees as critical to establishment of cumulative culture,
require a capacity to take the perspective of a model or pupil, a capacity that—
like that for culture—is far more fully developed in humans than in other spe-
cies. Gergely and Csibra (2006) suggest that human cultural capacities
coevolved with the ability to learn and transfer knowledge through teaching,
SOCIAL LEARNING , TRADITION , AND CULTURE : DATA AND DEBATE 143
which they suggest is a process independent from, and possibly antecedent to,
either language or the ability to attribute mental states. Vaesen (2011) has dis-
cussed eight cognitive abilities of humans but lacking in apes that make cumu-
lative culture difficult, if not impossible, for apes to achieve.
It is, of course, far easier to generate than to test hypotheses concerning the
necessary cognitive substrate of cumulative culture. However, if any such sug-
gestions are correct, culture of the human kind may well have arisen only in
the ancestral hominid line after its divergence from that of the great apes some
6 or 7 million years ago. If so, despite the close phylogenetic relationship
between Homo sapiens and other extant great apes, the traditions of animals
may provide little insight into the evolution of the human capacity for cumu-
lative culture.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I thank the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada
for 43 years of continuous financial support and the tens of technicians and
students, both undergraduate and graduate, whose participation through the
years in the work of the laboratory was indispensable to whatever success it
enjoyed and whose presence made going to work each day such a great
pleasure.
Galef, B. G., Jr. & L. L. Buckley. (1996). Use of foraging trails by Norway rats. Ani-
mal Behaviour, 51, 765–771.
Galef, B. G., Jr. & M. M. Clark. (1971a). Social factors in the poison avoidance and
feeding behavior of wild and domesticated rat pups. Journal of Comparative
and Physiological Psychology, 75, 341–357.
Galef, B. G., Jr. & M. M. Clark. (1971b). Parent-offspring interaction determine
time and place of first ingestion of solid food by wild rat pups. Psychonomic
Science, 25, 15–16.
Galef, B. G., Jr. & L.-A. Giraldeau. (2001). Social influences on foraging in verte-
brates: Causal mechanisms and adaptive functions. Animal Behaviour, 61,
3–15.
Galef, B. G., Jr. & C. M. Heyes. (2004). Social learning & imitation. Learning and
Behavior, 32, 1–140.
Garcia, J. & R. A. Koelling. (1966). The relation of cue to consequence in avoidance
learning. Psychonomic Science, 5, 123–124.
Gergely, G. & G. Csibra. (2006). Sylvia’s recipe: The role of imitation and pedagogy
in the transmission of human culture. In N. J. Enfield & S. C. Levinson (eds.),
Roots of Human Sociality: Culture, Cognition and Human Interaction (pp.
229–255). Oxford, UK: Berg.
Gibson, R. M., J. W. Bradbury, & S. L. Vehrencamp. (1991). Mate choice in lekking
sage grouse revisited: the rolws of vocal display, female site fidelity, and copy-
ing. Behavioral Ecology, 2, 165–180.
Green, S. (1975). Dialects in Japanese Monkeys: vocal learning and cultural transmis-
sion of locale-specific vocal behavior? Zeitschrift für Tierpsychologie, 38,
304–314.
Griffin, A. S. (2004). Social learning about predators. Learning & Behavior, 32,
131–140.
Hepper, P. G. (1988). Adaptive fetal learning: prenatal exposure to garlic affects post-
natal preference. Animal Behaviour, 36, 935–936.
Heyes, C. M. (1993). Imitation, culture and cognition. Animal Behaviour, 46,
999–1010.
Heyes, C. M. (1994). Social learning in animals: Categories and mechanisms. Biologi-
cal Reviews of the Cambridge Philosophical Society, 69, 207–231.
Heyes, C. M. (2012). What`s social about social learning? Journal of Comparative Psy-
chology, 126, 193–202.
Heyes, C. M. & B. G. Galef, Jr. (1996). Social Learning in Animals: The Roots of
Culture. San Diego, CA: Academic Press.
Hill, K. (2009). Animal “culture”? In K. N. Laland & B. G. Galef Jr. (eds.), The Question
of Animal Culture (pp. 269–287). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Holzhaider, J. C., G. R. Hunt, & R. D. Gray. (2010). Social learning in New Calado-
nian crows. Learning & Behavior, 38, 206–219.
Hoppitt, W. J. E., G. R. Brown, R. Kendal, L. Rendell, A. Thornton, M. M.
Webster, et al. (2008). Lessons from animal teaching. Trends in Ecology and
Evolution, 23, 486–493.
146 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Terkel, J. (1996). Cultural transmission of feeding behavior in the black rat (Rattus
rattus). In C. M. Heyes & B. G. Galef Jr. (eds.), Social Learning in Animals:
The Roots of Culture (pp. 17–48). San Diego, CA: Academic Press.
Thorndike, E. L. (1898). Animal intelligence: an experimental study of the associative
process in animals. Psychological Review Monographs, 2, No. 8.
Thorndike, E. L. (1911). Animal Intelligence. New York: Macmillan.
Thornton, A. & K. McAuliffe. (2006). Teaching in wild meerkats. Science, 313,
2227–2229.
Thornton, A. & N. Raihani. (2008). The evolution of teaching. Animal Behaviour,
75, 1823–1826.
Thorpe, W. H. (1963). Learning and Instinct in Animals. London: Methuen.
Tomasello, M. (1990). Cultural transmission in tool use and communicatory signal-
ing of chimpanzees? In S. Parker & K. Gibson (eds.), Comparative Develop-
mental Psychology of Language and Intelligence in Primates (pp. 274–311).
Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Tomasello, M. (1994). The question of chimpanzee culture. In R. W. Wrangham,
W. C. McGrew, F. B. M. de Waal, & P. G. Heltne (eds.), Chimpanzee Cul-
tures (pp. 301–317). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Tomasello, M. (1996). Do apes ape? In C. M. Heyes & B. G. Galef Jr. (eds.), Social Learn-
ing in Animals: The Roots of Culture (pp. 320–346). San Diego, CA: Academic Press.
Tomasello, M. (1999). The human adaptation for culture. Annual Review of
Anthropology, 28, 509–529.
Tomasello, M. (2009). The question of chimpanzee culture, plus postscript (chim-
panzee culture, 2009). In K. N. Laland & B. G. Galef (eds.), The Question of
Animal Culture (pp. 198–221). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Tomasello, M., S. Savage-Rumbaugh, & A. C. Kruger. (1993). Imitative learning of
actions on objects by children, chimpanzees, and enculturated chimpanzees.
Child Development, 64, 1688–1705.
Tuttle, M. D. & M. J. Ryan. (1981). Bat predation and the evolution of frog vocal-
izations in the neotropics. Science, 214, 677–678.
Vaesen, K. (2011). The cognitive basis of human tool use. Behavioral and Brain
Sciences, 35, 203–218.
van Schaik, C. P., M. Ancarenaz, G. Borgen, B. Galdikas, C. D. Knott, I. Singleton,
A. Suzuki, S. S. Utami, & M. Merrill et al. (2003). Orangutan cultures and the
evolution of material culture. Science, 299, 102–105.
Visalberghi, E., & D. Fragaszy. (1990). Do monkeys ape? In S. T. Parker & K. T.
Gibson (eds.), Language and Intelligence in Monkeys and Apes (pp. 247–273).
New York: Cambridge University Press.
von Frisch, K. (1967). The Dance Language and Orientation of Bees. Cambridge, MA:
Belknap Press.
West, M. J. & A. P. King. (1996). Social learning: Synergy and song birds. In C. M.
Heyes & B. G. Galef Jr. (Eds.) Social Learning in Animals: The Roots of Culture
(pp. 155–178). San Diego, CA: Academic Press.
SOCIAL LEARNING , TRADITION , AND CULTURE : DATA AND DEBATE 149
INTRODUCTION
The public has been fascinated with behavior genetics, for both humans and
other animals, as long as there has been a public consciousness of genetics.
The discussion is typically framed around determining whether “nature versus
nurture,” or in a genetic context “genes versus environment,” explain the ori-
gins of any particular behavior. We see this dichotomy used throughout the
public discourse on topics as diverse as the causes of language, schizophrenia,
parental care, sexual orientation, aggression, and pair bonding, to name only
a few (Parens et al., 2006). Understanding the underlying causes and evolu-
tion of these behaviors has important implications for advancing our under-
standing of the natural world as well as many areas of public health, ethics,
and policy. For example, autism is a neurodevelopmental disorder character-
ized by impairments in three areas of behavior, including social interaction
(Abrahams & Geschwind, 2008). Developing treatments and potential pre-
vention depends on understanding the underlying causes of the disorder,
including the effects of genes and environments (Auffray et al., 2009). A few
behavioral traits have been shown to result from the action of a single gene
that explains virtually all of the variation observable in that trait. However,
the vast majority of behavioral traits, including autism, have been found to
have complex etiology, with measurable effects of several or many genes
152 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Keeping Time
In the late 1960s Seymour Benzer and his students at Cal Tech began using
mutagenesis combined with behavioral assays to generate behavioral mutants,
using mutations as “microsurgical tools” to dissect the complexity of the nerv-
ous system of Drosophila.
Since it is now possible to produce very high mutation rates in Drosophila, one
can, instead, use an inbred strain and isolate mutants in which a behavioral
change occurs by a single step, so that direct relationships between individual
genes and the nervous system may be investigated. (Benzer, 1967, p. 1112)
Seymour Benzer used this methodology along with a behavioral assay (the
“countercurrent” process) to uncover the first behavioral mutants in Dro-
sophila, which lacked phototaxis—movement in response to light (Benzer,
1967). Subsequent experiments with his students at Cal Tech resulted in the
discovery of many behavioral mutants, including one that showed that the
biological clock was under genetic control, which has fascinated behavioral
scientists ever since (see Chapter 11).
Similar to most animals on earth, flies have daily rhythms for when they are
active, when they eat, and when they sleep. These daily rhythms are called cir-
cadian rhythms (from the Latin circa—about and diem—day). One of the
behavioral assays devised by Ronald Konopka, a graduate student of Benzer,
allowed him to determine the rhythmicity of a fly’s daily movements. After
running hundreds of flies through this assay, Konopka and Benzer discovered
three mutants that had different patterns of eclosion and locomotion. One mutant
had a shortened day (perS), another a longer day (perL), and a third (per0) exhi-
bited no pattern at all—it was arrhythmic (Konopka et al., 1971). These three
156 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
mutants were evidence that the biological clock was under genetic control.
Since that discovery many more clock genes that each significantly impact an indi-
vidual’s circadian rhythm have been found, including timeless, clock, cycle,
doubletime, and others (reviewed in Vosshall, 2007). For example, period, often
abbreviated per, sets the speed of the Drosophila biological clock and also regulates
its function. Per messenger RNA peaks in concentration at one point during the
day, and the PER protein peaks at a second point, later than the mRNA from
which it is produced. The patterns of accumulation and decrease occur over the
course of 24 hours, creating a feedback loop to regulate the biological clock
(Bargiello et al., 1984; Zehring et al., 1984). There are both positive and negative
transcriptional feedback loops that regulate the biological clock as well as other
regulatory factors, including a cytoplasmic timing mechanism (reviewed in
Vosshall, 2007).
Although we have progressed tremendously in understanding how the Dro-
sophila biological clock functions, and it appears to be a good model for other
insect biological clocks, we are just beginning to unravel the functioning of the
biological clock in vertebrates. Homologs to per have been discovered in mam-
mals, such as the mice homologs mPer1 and mPer2. A human homolog has
been found (Per2), which may explain familial advanced sleep phase syn-
drome, where individuals go to sleep and wake up very early in a very similar
manner to flies with the perS allele (Toh et al., 2001). As more genetic discov-
eries are made, we will likely find more homologs to insect clock genes as well
as new genes involved with the biological clock in vertebrates.
Finding Food
Our next example of a behavioral gene was discovered in a more natural
way. Rather than mutagenizing flies, Marla Sokolowski decided to watch the
behavior of Drosophila larvae feeding on rotten fruit in an orchard. She noticed
a pattern: when food was present under crowded conditions, most of the lar-
vae (~70%) would move long distances, making trails in the food or moving
to another food source, but a subset of the population (~30%) would stay
and eat where they were (Sokolowski, 1980). She named these behavioral
phenotypes “rover” and “sitter” and began the long search for the gene respon-
sible for this difference in foraging behavior. Nearly 20 years later, her persis-
tence paid off, and Sokolowski and her students were able to clone the
forager gene and generate the sequence for the underlying alleles, forR and
forS, respectively (Osborne et al., 1997). She determined that the gene forager
codes for a cyclic guanosine monophosphate (cGMP)–dependent protein
kinase (PKG). Sokolowski found that when exposed to crowded conditions,
rovers have a higher expression of the gene forager and higher levels of PKG
BEHAVIORAL GENETICS : BEYOND NATURE AND NURTURE 157
Nurturing Offspring
More recently, technological advances have allowed scientists to use the
techniques of “reverse genetics” to knock out the function of a particular gene
in order to test its function. In model systems where behavior could be quan-
tified and genetic tools were present, certain genes could be targeted and ren-
dered inactive (“knocked out”). This technique was used for the next
158 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Later work would show that their hunch was correct. Oxytocin is often called
the “love hormone” for its role in social bonding. The brain neuropeptides
oxytocin (OXT) and arginine vasopressin (AVP) are similar in structure (dif-
fering by only two amino acids), and both play a role in nurturing and pair-
bonding behavior (reviewed in Young et al., 2008). Vasopressin varies across
species and influences pair bonding between males and females. Sensitivity
to vasopressin is influenced by the avpr1a gene that encodes one of the AVP
receptor subtypes (vasopressin 1 receptor, V1aR) and a polymorphic repeat
sequence in the 5’ flanking region of this gene.
Long-term pair bonding is critical for monogamous mating systems, which
are fairly rare in mammals. Approximately 3 percent of all mammalian species
have monogamous mating systems (Kleiman, 1977). The prairie vole (Microtus
ochrogaster) is monogamous, with both males and females forming lasting pair
bonds. Both OXT and vasopressin are important for partner preferences and pair
bonding between male and female prairie voles (Cho et al., 1999). When the
genes influencing vasopressin receptors, the vole avpr1a gene and its 5’ flanking
regions, were inactivated, it transformed the once-monogamous prairie vole
BEHAVIORAL GENETICS : BEYOND NATURE AND NURTURE 159
males to become polygamous with weak pair bonding to their mates (Winslow
et al., 1993). Comparative studies with polygamous meadow (M. pennsylvanicus)
and montane (M. montanus) voles showed that the gene sequence was similar to
that in prairie voles, although the 5’ flanking region was not (Young et al., 1996,
1999). When the entire prairie vole gene sequence and the 5’ flanking region was
inserted into the formerly promiscuous vole species, pair bonding and mate pref-
erence was enhanced (Lim et al., 2004). For the first time, behavioral scientists
found that entire mating systems were under genetic control and influenced
whether voles were monogamous or polygamous (reviewed in Young et al.,
2008).
Once again, we find conservation of behavioral genes across taxa. There is a
homolog of the avpr1a gene in humans, AVPR1A, although there is no homo-
log of the polymorphic repeat sequence in the 5’ region of the avpr1a gene as is
found in prairie voles (Walum et al., 2008). But there are different polymor-
phic microsatellite repeats in that region, and one of those polymorphic
repeats (RS3) is associated with pair-bonding variation among humans
(Walum et al., 2008). Of the tested RS3 alleles, one of them (allele 334) was
associated with variation in male pair bonding. Males homozygous for the
334 allele had significantly lower scores on the Partner Bonding Scale, had
increased marital crisis scores, and were more likely to be unmarried than
males with one or no copies of the allele (Walum et al., 2008). The authors
made the important point that this allele does not predict the behavior of indi-
vidual males but is associated at the group level with variation in pair bonding.
So, similar to prairie voles, genetic factors associated with the AVPR1A gene
influence pair bonding in humans. But this is not the end of the story for
social bonding; rather it is the start of a whole new line of inquiry. Later in this
chapter, and with more detail in Chapter 8, we shall learn that how much
nurturing an offspring receives from its mother alters the fate of that off-
spring’s gene expression and future parenting behavior through epigenetic
mechanisms.
Figure 5.1. The phenotypic classes that result from three simple genetic models. In all
cases, any capital allele adds a unit to the phenotype (e.g., one feeding event per hour).
(a) Single gene with two alleles, (b) three loci with two alleles each, and (c) three loci
with two alleles each that have slightly unequal effects or environmental effects. In (c),
the unequal effects of the alleles in addition to the environment blur the distinction
between classes, yielding a quantitative trait.
BEHAVIORAL GENETICS : BEYOND NATURE AND NURTURE 161
In these examples, each of the loci had approximately equal effects on the phe-
notype that were independent of each other. As a result, we could predict how
many feeding events a parent would engage in simply by adding up the number
of capital alleles. This is termed additive effects of alleles. Whenever alleles inter-
act, the effects are termed nonadditive effects. The simplest interaction between
alleles is dominance, where the effect of one allele at a locus is partially or entirely
hidden by another allele at the same locus. Epistasis works in much the same
way, but the effects are seen across loci (Falconer & Mackay, 1996; Lynch &
Walsh, 1998; Brodie, 2000). This is analogous to viewing the alleles at one locus
as the environment experienced by the alleles at a second locus and the effects of
the alleles at the second locus are context dependent (Brodie, 2000).
Breadcrumb sponge isopods (Paracerceis sculpta) exhibit a unique set of mat-
ing behaviors that are linked to the presence of three genetically and behaviorally
distinct male morphs. Alpha males are large and aggressively defend harems of
females. Beta males are female mimics, able to infiltrate a harem and mate because
they fool the Alpha male by looking and acting exactly like females. Finally,
Gamma males are much smaller than either Alpha or Beta morphs, steal into
the harem, and engage in sneak mating with females (Shuster, 1987). Alpha
males have an ams-a/ams-a for the alternative mating strategy gene. Gamma
males are ams-g/ams-a or ams-g/ams-g. Finally, Beta males carry at least one
ams-b allele. A second gene, transformer (trf), can change males to females, but
whether a male develops as a female is dependent on its genotype at the ams locus.
Alpha males become female if they have at least one copy of the trf-2 allele. Beta
males are never transformed, and Gamma males are transformed if they have at least
one copy of the trf-1 allele. As if that were not complicated enough, sex in these iso-
pods may also be influenced by a maternal effect transferred from a mother through
the cytoplasm of an egg to her offspring (Shuster & Sassaman, 1997).
Because there is no single gene for feeding rate, alternative male behavior
in Paracerceis isopods, or other quantitative traits, the genes that contribute
to the quantitative traits are called quantitative trait loci, or QTL for short
(Falconer & Mackay, 1996). QTL may combine in various ways, many with
minor effects and some with major effects on the phenotype. The collective
actions of all QTL, including the magnitude of their effects, their interactions,
and the influences of the environment on the expression of those loci, are
summed as the genetic architecture of a trait (reviewed in Mackay, 2001).
markers that are distributed throughout the genome. These markers do not
have to code for any particular trait; instead, they function like flags used to
identify physical locations throughout the genome. Individuals are scored for
variation in all of the markers and for variation in the trait being studied. Par-
ticular alleles for some markers will be statistically associated with a particular
phenotype. Imagine, from our hypothetical example above, that allele 1 of
marker 1 is found in a large proportion of birds who feed their babies 60 times
per hour while a different allele is often found in birds that feed less often. The
statistical association between that marker and the behavior signals that a locus
that is physically near the marker influences feeding behavior (QTL analysis
reviewed in Cheverud, 2000).
QTL analysis provides information about the genetic architecture of a trait,
including the number of loci that influence phenotypic variation and among
those loci, which have major or minor and dominance or epistatic effects
(Falconer & Mackay, 1996). Any number of genes might influence the ultimate
outcome of behavior but are not the direct cause of the behavior (Hoekstra,
2010). For example, Grl1 controls the development of glucocorticoid receptors
on cells, which bind and initiate the response to cortisol and corticosterone,
sometimes referred to as stress hormones in vertebrates (Tronche et al., 1999).
Glucocorticoids and their interactions with receptors influence many beha-
viors, from aggression to parental care and mating to migration (e.g., Leary et
al., 2006; Soma et al., 2008; Horton & Holberton, 2010; Onuma et al.,
2010), but the Grl1 gene is not a gene for a particular behavior. In a QTL analy-
sis, Grl1 might show up as a gene of minor effect (e.g., Crabbe et al., 1994).
Conversely, variation in a gene of major effect is associated with a large propor-
tion of phenotypic variation. For example, a single gene, or a very tightly linked
set of QTL, is associated with up to 73 percent of the variation in feeding behav-
ior of pea aphids (Caillaud & Via, 2012).
QTL analysis also provides information about how alleles and loci interact,
whether through dominance, epistasis, or additive effects (Phillips et al.,
2000). With the advent of genomic sequencing, QTL analysis may be taken
a step further. Specific candidate genes that fall within a QTL region can be
sequenced and matched to existing knowledge about the action of that gene.
Increasingly sophisticated genomic tools allow gene networks that influence
complex traits to be mapped. Genetic variation may then be tied to specific
proximate mechanisms, such as changes in receptor density or the efficiency
of peptide synthesis. Identifying the action of particular genes is particularly
important for applying animal behavioral genetics to humans, understanding
the evolution of behavior across multiple species, or developing treatments
for conditions linked to behavioral genes (reviewed in Crabbe et al., 1994;
BEHAVIORAL GENETICS : BEYOND NATURE AND NURTURE 163
have been explored using QTL analysis: F1 hybrids between European honey
bees and Africanized honey bees were created in both directions, and the
hybrids were then backcrossed to both parental populations. As a result, both
parental types, F1 hybrids, Africanized backcrosses and European backcrosses
could all be compared for stinging behavior. The bees were then genotyped
for a QTL locus associated with stinging, sting1. The marker linked to sting1
was significantly more likely to be found in individuals that stung more often
in the European backcross genotypes but not in the Africanized backcross
genotype, and the effects of the allele appeared to be dominant. In this case,
sting1 is the gene of major effect but cannot by itself account for all variation
in stinging behavior (Guzmán-Novoa et al., 2002). The dominant effects of
a single gene of large effect may help to explain the rapid, invasive spread of
the Africanized aggressive behavior throughout much of the North American
range of European honey bees.
Genomic data for the honey bee allows analysis of QTL to go a step further
in analyzing the evolution of social behavior and caste systems. Honey bee
workers act as nurses for the developing larvae in the hive. Later in life, their
behavior changes radically, and the nurses become foragers, who may further
specialize in collecting pollen or nectar. The change from nurse to forager
must be accomplished through gene regulation, switching from a nurse set
of genes to a forager set of genes. Behavioral studies identified correlated
behaviors, and expression assays and comparative bioinformatics studies
together allow researchers to identify the functions of and correlations between
genes necessary for foraging behavior (Hunt et al., 2007b). Several studies
have found that the size of workers’ ovaries is genetically linked, through
pleiotropic effects of several genes of major effect, to the specific behavior of
worker bees provisioning the colony known as pollen-hoarding syndrome.
These genes may also play a role in caste determination (Wang et al., 2009;
Graham et al., 2011). Pollen-foraging behavior therefore appears to have
evolved from reproductive behavior by co-opting a gene network that supports
ovarian development and insulin signaling in reproductive individuals (Hunt
et al., 2007a). This is particularly fascinating because, of course, workers bees
do not reproduce; evolution simply “borrowed” an existing network of genes
and tweaked it for a different purpose.
Defensive and aggressive behaviors appear to have followed a similar evolu-
tionary path. QTL that are important for activity of the central nervous sys-
tem, neurogenesis, and sensory structures also strongly influence aggressive
behavior. Once again, evolution has co-opted existing gene networks and
modified them slightly for additional functions (Hunt et al., 2007a). This also
provides the perfect example for why the actions of genes cannot realistically
166 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
many genes, each of small effect, are influencing tame behavior (Kukekova et
al., 2008). Genomic work has more precisely identified where genetic changes
occur via domestication. Tame foxes maintained both with and without selec-
tion vary for how quickly they approach a human, how long they stay in con-
tact, and other measures of domestication. These relatively large evolutionary
changes in behavior are not, however, accompanied by large changes in gene
expression within three key brain regions (hypothalamus, amygdala, and fron-
tal lobe). These results are contrary to observations of Drosophila, in which
behavioral changes appear to require large changes in the transcriptome,
which can be thought of as the full library of transcription products being
made by an individual’s genes (Mackay et al., 2005). Evolutionary changes
in behavior from wild to domestic behavior in foxes also required big
differences in transcriptomes, but differences between the selected and nonse-
lected tame lines required very few changes (Lindberg et al., 2005). It remains
to be discovered why some behavioral changes require large differences in
gene expression while others require only slight tweaking, even in the same
species.
to multiple mothers resemble one another, you should see only the additive
effects of alleles. This works because offspring cannot inherit an entire geno-
type from their father, only one of each of his alleles, and siblings from multi-
ple mothers should not often get the same second allele at any particular locus.
As a result, dominance and epistatic relationships are different across half-
siblings and what remains to explain resemblance is simply additive effects
(Falconer & Mackay, 1996). Data from breeding designs can be collected
purely at the phenotypic level by measuring observed variation in traits, or it
may be collected by incorporating QTL analyses that identify particular loci.
Let us return briefly to two examples from earlier in the chapter to illustrate
how measures of epistasis, obtained through QTL analysis, have informed our
understanding of the inheritance of behavior. We previously discussed genes
responsible for establishing and maintaining an individual’s biological clock,
including period, timeless, and clock. While variation in any one of these loci alone
can have significant effects on an individual’s circadian rhythm, they ultimately
interact in complex ways to generate variation in biological timing both within
and across species. Using F2 hybrid mice obtained by crossing two inbred lines
that differed in their biological clocks, Kazuhiro Shimomura and his colleagues
in Joseph Takahashi’s lab carried out genome-wide complex trait analysis for five
aspects of circadian rhythm phenotypes. Fourteen loci contributed significantly
to variation in three of the phenotypes: period, phase, and amplitude of the bio-
logical clock. However, they also found two additional pairs of loci that interact
epistatically to influence significantly the other two aspects of clock phenotype,
dissociation and activity levels. They also detected at least some interactions
among the loci influencing period, phase, and amplitude. As a result, epistatic
variation is an important contributor to variation in circadian rhythms
(Shimomura et al., 2001). Odor-guided behavior in Drosophila is also strongly
influenced by epistatic interactions. Trudy Mackay’s lab combined measures of
transcription with quantitative genetic analysis on five smell-impaired (smi)
mutant lines of D. melanogaster and identified an astonishing 530 loci that are
coregulated in response to smi mutations, providing many loci among which epis-
tasis could occur. In addition, epistasis at the transcription level translated into
epistatic effects on the phenotype 67 percent of the time (Anholt et al., 2003).
measures of the same behavior across many different individuals that share a
particular genotype.
There are various types of phenotypic plasticity, ranging from differences
that are purely environmental to complex interactions between genes and
environments (Figure 5.2; reviewed in Schlichting & Pigliucci, 1998). When
the reaction norms of two different genotypes are not parallel, we have a
G×E interaction (Figures 5.2c and 5.2d). In some cases, a special type of
G×E interaction can occur when reaction norms cross, called ecological cross-
over (Figure 5.2d). In this case, no one genotype performs the best across all
the environments. Ecological crossover may be able to maintain genetic varia-
tion for traits under directional selection in different environments, such as
variation in courtship songs in wax moths grown under different larval den-
sities (Danielson-François et al., 2006, 2009; for a review see Ingleby et al.,
2010). If we return to Drosophila and the example of the forager gene with
its two alleles forS and forR, this is an example of ecological crossover:
low-density environments favored sitters and high-density environments
favored rovers (Sokolowski et al., 1997). Each genotype is favored under dif-
ferent environmental conditions, so ecological crossover maintains the varia-
tion at the forager locus. Note that the expression of the rover phenotype is
also plastic—it is only expressed under high-density, crowded conditions!
The interaction between genes and the environment can be even more com-
plex than what we find in G×E interactions. In some cases, the genes themselves
can respond to environments in ways that change their expression patterns in a
non-Mendelian fashion. We will examine this topic more in the section of this
chapter on epigenetics, and see Chapter 8 on epigenetics in this volume.
genetic effects appear in our quantitative genetic model as the additive effects
of genes (a), just as in Equation 1, but they are modified slightly because they
are carried in a social partner (Equation 4; Moore et al., 1997; Wolf et al.,
1999; McGlothlin et al., 2010). Including indirect genetic effects in our
model looks like this:
z = a þ e þ a 0, [Equation 4]
where the prime indicates that the genes are carried in a social partner. The
coefficient of the interaction, , determines how much the social environment
influences the behavior we observe in a focal individual. If the social environ-
ment completely determines the behavior of a focal individual, then = −1
or 1. If the social environment has no influence whatsoever on an individual’s
behavior, then = 0 and we can simplify right back to Equation 1, where the
individual’s phenotype results just from its own genes and environments
(reviewed in Bleakley et al., 2010; Wolf & Moore, 2010b).
Indirect genetic effects are harder to measure than other quantitative
genetic effects because one must control the direct effects of genes carried
in focal individuals, the effects of genes carried in social partners, and the
effects of the general environment. Guppies (Poecilia reticulata) are a model
system for understanding the evolution of cooperation because they perform
antipredator behavior, including predator inspections, in cooperative pairs or
groups. Because individual guppies respond strongly to the behavior of their
social partners, Bronwyn Bleakley and Butch Brodie predicted that indirect
genetic effects might influence their anti-predator behavior (Bleakley et al.,
2007). Inbred lines of guppies that differed genetically and in their anti-
predator were used to control the genetic component of the social environ-
ment and additive genetic effects in focal females (Bleakley et al., 2006;
Bleakley et al., 2008). Females were tested for their responses to a predator
model in the presence of one of four social “context” strains. Changes in
their behavior, analogous to measures of plasticity, can be attributed to the
only thing that changed between trials: the genes present in their social part-
ners. For several behaviors, indirect genetic effects were as strong, or nearly
so, as the effects of a fish’s own genes. Somewhat surprisingly, indirect
genetic effects explained nearly all of the variation in inspection behavior in
the guppies while a female’s own genes mattered very little (Bleakley &
Brodie, 2009).
To date, indirect genetic effects have been infrequently explicitly mea-
sured but have been shown to influence wax moth courtship and competi-
tive behavior (Achroia grisella, Danielson-François et al., 2009), Drosophila
courtship behavior (Chenoweth & Blows, 2006; Kent et al., 2008;
174 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 5.3. Total phenotypic variation (VP) for feeding behavior can be broken into its
constitutive parts, first the variation attributable to genetic effects (VG) and then that
attributable to environmental effects (VE). Variation that results from genetic effects
can be further broken into variation attributable to additive genetic effects (VA),
dominance effects (VD), and epistatic effects (VI). Environmental variance can be
broken into the effects of the general environment (VEG), as well as effects of the
social environment (VES), maternal effects (VMAT), and the effects of growing up in
the same environment as your relatives, known as common environmental effects
(VCOM). Last, we see the effects of G×E interactions. In this example, the amount a
mother feeds her babies reflects all of these influences, including genes carried in the
father of her offspring and those carried in her offspring (for example for begging).
176 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
CONCLUSION
The study of behavioral genetics has come a long way since Plato first con-
templated the interplay of nature and nurture in human behavior. While changes
in single genes can have profound effects on behavior, we now know that com-
plex interactions among genes, as well as interactions between genes and environ-
ments, determine the variation we observe in behavioral traits. The environment
is particularly difficult to distinguish from the genes when animals interact with
social partners whose genes may also influence what that animal does. And
finally, environments can alter the ways in which genes are expressed in some-
times heritable ways. These complex inheritance patterns break down the barriers
between nature and nurture and suggest that for most behaviors simply asking
“Is there a gene for it?” is not sufficient. We hope this chapter has illustrated
why behavioral geneticists believe Shakespeare got it wrong.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We wish to thank Ken Yasukawa for helpful comments on the chapter.
Brooks, R. & J. A. Endler. (2001). Female guppies agree to differ: Phenotypic and
genetic variation in mate-choice behavior and the consequences for sexual
selection. Evolution, 55, 1644–1655.
Brown, J. R., H. Ye, R. T. Bronson, P. Dikkes, & M. E. Greenberg. (1996). A defect
in nurturing in mice lacking the immediate early gene fosB. Cell, 86, 297–309.
Cade, W. H. (1984). Genetic variation underlying sexual behavior and reproduction.
American Zoologist, 24, 355–366.
Caillaud, M. C. & S. Via. (2012). Quantitative genetics of feeding behavior in two
ecological races of the pea aphid, Acyrthosiphon pisum. Heredity, 108, 211–218.
Cedar, H. & Y. Bergman. (2009). Linking DNA methylation and histone modifica-
tion: Patterns and paradigms. Nature Reviews Genetics, 10, 295–304.
Champagne, F. A. (2008). Epigenetic mechanisms and the transgenerational effects of
maternal care. Frontiers of Neuroendocrinology, 29, 386–397.
Champagne, F. A. (2011). Maternal imprints and the origins of variation. Hormones
and Behavior, 60, 4–11.
Champagne, F. A., D. D. Francis, A. Mar, & M. J. Meaney. (2003). Variations in
maternal care in the rat as a mediating influence for the effects of environment
on development. Physiology and Behavior, 79, 359–371.
Champagne, F. A. & M. J. Meaney. (2007). Transgenerational effects of social envi-
ronment on variations in maternal care and behavioral response to novelty.
Behavioral Neuroscience, 121, 1353–1363.
Chenoweth, S. F. & M. W. Blows. (2006). Dissecting the complex genetic basis of
mate choice. Nature Reviews Genetics, 7, 681–692.
Chenoweth, S. F., H. D. Rundle, & M. W. Blows. (2010). Experimental evidence for
the evolution of indirect genetic effects: Changes in the interaction effect
coefficient, psi ( ), due to sexual selection. Evolution, 64, 1849–1856.
Cheverud, J. M. (2000). Detecting epistasis among quantitative trait loci. In
J. B. Wolf, E. D. Brodie III, & M. J. Wade (eds.), Epistasis and the Evolution-
ary Process (pp. 58–81). New York: Oxford University Press.
Cho, M. M., A. C. DeVries, J. R. Williams, & C. S. Carter. (1999). The effects of
oxytocin and vasopressin on partner preferences in male and female prairie
voles (Microtus ochrogaster). Behavioral Neuroscience, 113, 1071–1079.
Ciccone, D. N., H. Su, S. Hevi, F. Gay, H. Lei, J. Bajko, G. Xu, E. Li, & T. Chen.
(2009). KDM1B is a histone H3K4 demethylase required to establish mater-
nal genomic imprints. Nature, 461, 415–418.
Cooney, C. A., A. A. Dave, & G. L. Wolff. (2002). Maternal methyl supplements in
mice affect epigenetic variation and DNA methylation of offspring. Journal of
Nutrition, 132, 2393S–2400S.
Crabbe, J., J. Belknap, & K. Buck. (1994). Genetic animal models of alcohol and
drug abuse. Science, 264, 1715–1723.
Danielson-François, A. M., J. Kelly, & M. D. Greenfield. (2006). Genotype x envi-
ronment interaction for male attractiveness in an acoustic moth: Evidence for
plasticity and canalization. Journal of Evolutionary Biology, 19, 532–542.
BEHAVIORAL GENETICS : BEYOND NATURE AND NURTURE 179
INTRODUCTION
When we consider what behavioral neuroscience is about, one might start
with the question: What is it that sets a slug, a lamprey, and an elephant apart
from life forms outside of the animal kingdom, such as slime molds, a bush of roses,
a mushroom, and blue-green algae?
In my view, the most interesting difference that sets animals distinctly apart
from the other forms of life is the system most directly specialized to coordi-
nate behavior: the nervous system. It comes in many forms and can be as sim-
ple as a net of interconnected neurons that allows a sea anemone to move its
tentacles. But a nervous system can also be unimaginably complex and can
include a brain, such as those of birds and mammals, that has many organized
populations of neurons, each talking to others through what adds up to astro-
nomical numbers of junctions called synapses. This communication is at the
root of all behavior including those behaviors that form the basis of networks
of social relationships and the cognitive processes and emotional experience
associated with such behavior. The nervous system is at the center of our inter-
actions with the world around us. It allows us to respond to, and anticipate,
changes in our environment. The nature of the relationships between the
186 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
BRAIN BASICS
The most basic, elemental units of the mammalian nervous systems are the
neurons and the glial cells. The latter get less attention, as reflected in their
name, which comes from the Greek work for “glue.” Glial cells actually do
much more than stick things together; they also help neurons send their mes-
sages more rapidly, modulate their development and their structure, provide
them with some molecules, and protect them from others. Nonetheless, glial
cells tend to be overlooked, primarily because they do not fire action poten-
tials, sometimes referred to as nerve impulses. Neurons use these to carry mes-
sages in a binomial code from one cell to another along extensions from the
cell body that are referred to as axons. While there are only four basic types
of glial cells, there are hundreds of distinct types of neurons. Their structures,
compositions, and interconnections enable them to receive and integrate
incoming signals and to transform them into new patterns that they send to
an array of target cells near and far. The signals that transmit information from
one neuron to another are molecules referred to as neurotransmitters, whose
effects are rapid and short lasting, and neuromodulators, whose effects are
slower and last for longer periods of time. Examples include oxytocin (OT),
vasopressin (AVP), and dopamine (DA), all of which will come up in our dis-
cussion of the formation of social bonds (see also Chapter 7 in this volume).
Transmitters can have either excitatory effects on another neuron, increasing
the rate at which they fire their own action potentials, or inhibitory ones that
decrease the rate of such signals.
The vertebrate nervous system contains a peripheral component at the
interface of the animal and its environment (i.e., the peripheral nervous sys-
tem) that transmits signals into and out of its central component, the spinal
cord and brain (i.e., the central nervous system). Circuits within the spinal
cord are complex and fascinating and can do quite sophisticated things with-
out the brain. Interactions between central pattern generators there, for
example, coordinate the rhythms in contraction and relaxation of a host of
limb muscles in a manner that produces the different gaits of a four-legged ani-
mal. But ordinarily these spinal circuits do not act alone. The brain, which
receives special patterns of signals that emerge from circuits within the spinal
cord, also sends signals to the populations of cells and pattern generators
within the spinal cord that can initiate them, modulate them, and shut them
down.
188 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
at what time of day they are most likely to engage in all of these behaviors (see
Chapter 11 in this volume). The primary hypothalamic structure that contrib-
utes to the latter is referred to as the suprachiasmatic nucleus, or SCN. The
hypothalamus also includes one population of cells specialized to stimulate
wakefulness and another that puts us to sleep. Both are heavily influenced by
the SCN, and both exhibit daily rhythms that are in an antiphase relationship
in diurnal and nocturnal species. The other division of the forebrain, the telen-
cephalon, contains the NAc, noted earlier, that helps motivate animals to
engage in a wide range of behaviors. The NAc, like much of the brain, also
changes in systematic and predictable ways from day to night. The positions
of the VTA and the NAc, and the connections between them, are depicted
here in the human brain: http://webspace.ship.edu/cgboer/limbicsystem.gif.
Finally, the forebrain is capped by the cortex, with its “paleo” (old) and “neo”
(new) divisions that are distinctly different with respect to their structures and
functions. The paleocortex includes the hippocampus, a well-studied structure
critically involved in the formation of some kinds of memories. The neocortex
is a six-layered structure in all mammals, but its size varies wildly among them.
Its organization includes “modules” with astonishingly specific functions that
are organized into distributed circuits that bring those modules together in ways
that support integrated and complex behaviors and perceptions. Examples of
these discrete modules include one whose activity produces laughter and another
in which individual neurons fire in response to specific faces but not anything
else. The distributed nature of cortical function is reflected in interconnected
regions that figure prominently in language production and comprehension;
the pathways between some of them are massive in humans and minuscule in
our close relatives, chimpanzees, with their more limited language abilities.
SOCIAL SYSTEMS
The evolution and diversification of social behavior, and the social relation-
ships that follow from it, are based on changes in the brain mechanisms that
lead animals to interact with others in particular ways. A female spotted hyena
(Crocuta crocuta), for example, has a brain that enables her to establish domi-
nance relationships with many other individuals; however, like most other
mammals, her brain does not have within it the neural mechanisms that
would enable her to establish a pair bond with any given individual. There
are, however, some mammals that engage in a suite of behaviors associa-
ted with a monogamous mating system. The question that I want to turn to
now is how their brains support these behaviors, as I believe that this is one
of the most fascinating stories to emerge from behavioral neuroscience in
190 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
recent times. This work has centered on four species of North American voles,
the prairie (Microtus ochrogaster) and pine (M. pinetorum) voles, which are rel-
atively monogamous, on the one hand, and the meadow (M. pennsylvanicus)
and montane (M. montanus) voles, which are far more polygynous, on the
other. The story has led to a remarkable level of understanding of relationships
among small snippets of DNA, brain structure and function, and, ultimately,
patterns of behavioral interactions between individuals. However, it began
with fieldwork focused on relationships between social behavior and ecology
(see also Volume 2, Chapter 3).
In the 1970s and 1980s ecologists were conducting trapping studies of
small rodents in their natural habitats, characterizing distributions and den-
sities of populations and how they changed over time and space. Such studies
revealed substantial differences among the different species of voles, particu-
larly during their breeding seasons. Among meadow voles, found across a large
swath of North America from the East Coast well into Alaska (Hoffmann &
Koeppl, 1985), males have home ranges that are about five times larger than
those of females (Gaulin & FitzGerald, 1989), and they nest alone. Bonds
between the sexes appear to be fleeting at best, lasting just long enough for a
male to pass his sperm along to the female. These basic patterns of social
behavior are also evident in the closely related montane vole. Among prairie
voles, from the central grasslands of North America, it is not so simple. While
all populations exhibit characteristics typical of a monogamous mating system,
some of the features of their social behavior vary from one population to
another. It is in Illinois that pair bonds are most evident in prairie voles.
Among these animals, copulation is not a brief and simple matter. If all goes
well when unpaired males and females meet up, they will interact in a friendly
manner and explore each other’s scents. Until this point the female has never
experienced a period of estrus, but following contact between her vomeronasal
organ and the male’s urine, her hormones begin to flow. Within two to three
days her uterus doubles or triples in size; copulation begins, and it keeps going,
intermittently, for two to three days. The male and female move in together,
their home ranges become virtually identical, and they raise offspring together
(Carter et al., 1980, 1988; Dluzen et al., 1981; Gavish et al., 1983; Hofmann
et al., 1984; Gaulin & FitzGerald, 1989). Though less is known about the
pine voles, they too are socially monogamous, and many basic features of their
social behavior are the same. These four microtine rodents have come to be
used as “models” for the study of the neural substrates of the behaviors that
form the basis of divergent social and mating systems.
Neuroscientists have explored the substrates underlying an array of behav-
iors that distinguish these voles from each other. This has included behaviors
NEURAL SYSTEMS , BEHAVIOR , AND EVOLUTION 191
associated with the formation of preferences of animals for their mates, as well
as those coordinating the use of space, territoriality, and paternal care. With
respect to the latter, for example, the prairie vole males help build the nest,
huddle over the pups in that nest, groom the pups, and return them to the
nest when they have wandered too far. They contribute to all forms of parental
behavior except nursing (Oliveras & Novak, 1986). The brain mechanisms
coordinating such behaviors in the male prairie vole have been studied exten-
sively. This has not been the case for the meadow vole for the simple reason
that, as noted above, the males of this species do none of this (Gruder-
Adams & Getz, 1985) as they are too busy wandering far and wide in search
of prospective mates. For them, a more important adaptation is the ability to
find their way to these females. In what follows I will not try to tell you about
the stories that have emerged from studies of brain mechanisms supporting all
of the adaptations distinguishing the sociality of monogamous and polygynous
voles. I will, instead, zero in on two of them: the ability of the meadow vole
to navigate through the territories of multiple females, and the ability of the
male and female prairie voles to form pair bonds involving lasting partner
preferences.
Space
To be successful, a male meadow vole has to remember how to find his way
to each of several females, and those spatial memories have to be integrated
with memories of the ever-changing reproductive conditions of these females.
Females of this species simply do not face those challenges. Among the prairie
and pine voles the male home range is the same as his mate’s, and the demands
for spatial memory are consequently quite similar between the sexes (Gaulin
et al., 1990). So, the question here is, what is it about their brains that enables
the male meadow vole to find his way through a home range that can encompass
those of several females, and how might this be different in their pair-bonding
counterparts?
Exploration of this issue began with a direct examination of the spatial abil-
ities of male and female meadow and prairie voles. After their work in the field
had allowed Steven Gaulin and Randall FitzGerald (1989) to measure the size
of the animals’ home ranges, they brought the voles into the lab where they
could assess their spatial abilities. The animals were placed into a standardized
series of mazes, each with the promise of food at the end, if they were able to
find their way there. This work revealed that, indeed, performance was quite
similar in male and female prairie voles, whereas male meadow voles were con-
siderably better than their female counterparts. This finding was subsequently
192 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
abilities are sexually selected then we would predict that, within a given spe-
cies, sex differences in the learning ability and its neural basis should be
enhanced in the sex that competes more strongly for mates.” The sex differ-
ence in learning abilities had already been described in the meadow voles, so
Jacobs and colleagues (1990) went on to test the prediction that these differ-
ences were associated with hippocampal size, structure, or function. This is
exactly what they found. Specifically, the male meadow voles had a signifi-
cantly larger hippocampus than did the females. This sex difference was not
seen in the monogamous pine vole, in which there was no sex difference in
home-range size or spatial learning abilities.
An enhancement of spatial memory has occurred in different contexts and
in multiple independent lineages, raising the question of whether these
changes were brought about via transformation of the same underlying neural
mechanisms. The answer appears to be “yes.” One interesting example has
come from studies of brown-headed cowbirds (Molothrus ater), a species in
which females behave as parasites of sorts, depositing their eggs in the nests
of unwitting “hosts” of other species that then raise their offspring for them.
For this strategy to be effective, female cowbirds must find and remember
locations of appropriate host nests, and they must integrate that memory with
their assessment of when those nests will be ready to have new eggs deposited
in them. Male cowbirds do not face these challenges, and in this species the
hippocampus of the female is substantially larger than that of the male (Sherry
et al., 1993). Another example comes from birds that stash their food in prepa-
ration for the arrival of winter and must later, sometimes much later, find
exactly where they have hidden it (e.g., Lucas et al., 2004). These birds have
a better spatial memory and a larger hippocampus than do sister species that
face no such demands (see Volume 3, Chapter 10).
Taken together, the data appear to suggest that independent evolutionary
routes towards enhanced spatial memory, whether it is in the service of nest
parasitism, storage of food, or finding females, have involved transformation
of the same basic brain mechanisms. That is, regardless of the selection pres-
sures or the phylogeny, the evolutionary transition has involved the same
changes in the proximate neural mechanisms.
virtually identical, and otherwise exclusive, home ranges. These findings led
Sue Carter and her colleagues to wonder if the males and females shared a
basic social and sexual bond that held them together. This question was more
difficult to test in the field, where systematic observations of these relatively
nocturnal rodents are difficult. Therefore breeding colonies of prairie voles
from Illinois were established, and the animals could then be tested in the
lab as well as in seminatural enclosures (Carter et al., 1995). This is when it
became clear that males contribute to all forms of parental care except nursing.
Lab studies also revealed that a mere six hours of cohabitation with a female
could cause an increase in aggressive behavior directed by a male towards unfa-
miliar animals. In the field this presumably helps prevent other males from
mating with the newly acquired partner, and after she has been impregnated,
such aggression could help prevent a mates’ pregnancy from being interrupted
by contact with an unfamiliar male, something that can occur for as long as
17 days postconception in this species. Overall, the patterns of aggression
and space use, as well as paternal care, all suggest that pair bonding may be a
critical feature of prairie vole sociality, but is there an actual preference for the
putative partner over others?
Development of a partner-preference test was the first step in what has
become a rich and fascinating line of research into the neural basis of relation-
ships between cohabiting male and female voles (Williams et al., 1992). The
test is conducted in a three-chambered arena with a central compartment con-
nected with open tubes to two other chambers, one on each side. The test ani-
mal is placed in the center, and two stimulus animals are tethered within the
chambers connected to it. The test animal has no experience with one of the
animals but has varying degrees and types of experience with the other. Over
a three-hour period under these conditions, observers monitor where the test
animal spends its time and how much of that time is spent in side-by-side con-
tact with the stimulus animal. The answer turned out to depend on the
amount and type of experience the animals had had with each other. If a test
female had a mere six hours of experience with a male, and the two had not
copulated, then she showed no particular preference for him. If, however,
she had spent a full 24 hours with him and they had copulated, then she did
subsequently choose to spend most of her time snuggling up to him. The same
basic pattern was seen with respect to the development of a male preference for
a particular female. What made this particularly important was the fact that
development of such partner preferences was not seen in the polygynous
meadow voles.
Pair bonds have been defined more broadly than partner preferences as “a
stable relationship between a breeding pair of animals that share a common
NEURAL SYSTEMS , BEHAVIOR , AND EVOLUTION 195
territory and parental duties” (Wang & Aragona, 2004, p. 319). The patterns
of behavior described above provide good evidence for the development of pair
bonds between adult male and female prairie voles, and similar studies have
yielded evidence that this is the case in pine voles as well. This is clearly not
the case for meadow voles or montane voles, species in which male and female
promiscuity reigns—territories of males are far larger than those of females,
males provide no care for their young, and there appears to be no preference
for members of the opposite sex with which an animal has mated (Oliveras
& Novak, 1986). The patterns revealed by these studies, in the field as well
as the lab, have provided the foundation for over 20 years of work into the
neural and endocrine mechanisms of pair bonding. Here, I focus on the
research into one element of that bond: partner preferences.
Investigation of these mechanisms began with a focus on two peptides in
the brains of these animals, OT and AVP (see also Chapter 7 in this volume).
Both of these strings of nine amino acids are hormones, released by the pitui-
tary gland into the general circulation; the same peptides also function as neu-
romodulators produced within the brain and operating as signals traveling
across synapses from one neuron to another. Efforts to understand pair bonds
were focused on OT and AVP because these peptides had been associated with
several behaviors related to formation of social, emotional, and sexual bonds
between individuals (reviewed in Donaldson & Young, 2008). For example,
the surge in OT release from the pituitary that occurs at parturition contrib-
utes not only to uterine contractions that help the birth process along but also
to the development of general patterns of maternal behavior in laboratory rats
(Rattus norvegicus) and of bonds that develop between female sheep and their
newborn offspring. Another association between OT and bonding is its rise
in the bloodstream of women as they experience orgasm, something that has
been recorded in the context of sexual intercourse. AVP was known to con-
tribute to other behaviors associated with formation of bonds between males
and females, such as the rise in aggressive behavior noted above (Ferris & Pote-
gal, 1988). It is against this background that investigators developed the
hypothesis that OT and AVP might play a role in establishment of partner
preferences.
The hypothesis was first tested in prairie voles by determining if intracranial
administration of OT could influence the establishment of partner preferences
in the paradigm described above (Williams et al., 1994). Cannulae were
implanted that could deliver OT or vehicle (i.e., a control substance) into
the third ventricle of the brain of females during a period of cohabitation with
a male. The ovaries had been removed so there was no mating involved. When
tested after six hours, females showed a clear preference for the male that they
196 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
had spent that time with, but only if they had received the OT infusions
during that time! Among males treated in the same manner, there was no
effect of OT on partner preference, but there was an effect on another element
of the pair bond: aggression directed towards outsiders. That is, infusions of
OT during the period of cohabitation led to an increase in aggression directed
towards other adult males.
The next question was a simple one: could behavioral differences between spe-
cies with and without pair bonds emerge from differences in where OT or AVP act
in the brain? This issue was initially investigated by incubating slices of brain
tissue in a solution that contained a form of the peptide with a radioactive
label attached it (Insel & Shapiro, 1992; Insel et al., 1994). The peptide binds
to its receptors in the brain, film is placed over the sections, and the radioactiv-
ity leaves its imprint. When the film is developed, one can effectively see
where the receptors for that peptide are located. Those first studies revealed
stunning differences between pair-bonding and polygynous species with
respect to the distributions and densities of the binding. The differences were
so large and so clear that one could hold the images up to the light and see
from them what type of social system the animals would have had in nature!
One of the early follow-up questions was whether the differences in recep-
tor distribution were due to differences in translation or in posttranslational
regulatory processes. The latter hypothesis was ruled out by examination of
the distribution of the mRNA for the different forms of the AVP and OT
receptors in males and females of the different species (Young et al., 1996,
1997). These studies, conducted using a procedure known as in situ hybridi-
zation, revealed that whereas sex differences were minimal, the species differ-
ences were striking. This approach also enabled investigators to see more
precisely where the cells are and to distinguish different forms of the receptors.
One striking difference was in the ventral pallidum, where V1a receptor den-
sity was considerably higher in the monogamous voles than the polygynous
ones. This region, located in the telencephalon, receives input from the
NAc, which, as noted earlier, receives dopaminergic input from the VTA. This
pathway is part of a circuit involved in reward associated with a number of
highly motivated, and addictive, behaviors. There was also a large difference
in the NAc, in that OT receptor mRNA was elevated in the pair bonding
compared to the polygynous voles. It started to become easy to imagine how
the distribution of these receptors might be able to explain the different social
systems of these voles. However, correlational data can only go so far. A true
test of the hypothesis that evolutionary changes in these peptidergic systems
contributed to the current differences in social behavior would require exper-
imental manipulations of the DNA.
NEURAL SYSTEMS , BEHAVIOR , AND EVOLUTION 197
The first step was to sequence the genes for the receptors, something that
has become virtually routine these days. When this was done, it became clear
that the coding regions are extremely similar across species, which means that
the receptor proteins themselves were essentially identical (Hammock &
Young, 2002). However, the regulatory regions were quite different, and these
are what determine where, when, and how much the gene will be transcribed.
These studies revealed, for example, that the promoter region of the V1aR
gene of prairie and pine voles contains several repetitive sequences that are
simply absent in the DNA of the meadow and montane voles. The next ques-
tion was, could the differences in these little snippets of DNA be responsible for
differences in the distribution of the mRNA for the receptors and, ultimately, for
the different patterns of social interactions seen between voles that establish pair
bonds and those that do not? With the sequences in hand, it became possible
to test this hypothesis by experimentally altering DNA and examining effects
that this might have on partner preferences.
Molecular methods that made it possible to insert and delete segments of
DNA in mice had been developed by 1999 to the point where Larry Young
and colleagues (1999) could actually create transgenic mice with the prairie
vole V1aR sequence. In the brains of these animals the distribution of the
receptor was actually similar to that seen in prairie voles! Then came the big
question: what about the behavioral response to AVP—would the mice form pair
bonds? When the transgenic and control mice were injected with AVP and put
into a two-chambered testing arena with a female on one side, the transgenic
mice responded to the AVP with a rise in the levels of olfactory investigation
and grooming directed towards the females, while the wild-type mice did
not (Young et al., 1999). A full-fledged pair bond was not described, but the
behavior showed signs of moving in that direction. By 2004, transgenic voles
had been created (Aragona & Wang, 2004). Now it was actually possible to
ask whether the promoter region of the V1a gene of a prairie vole could cause
a male meadow vole to develop partner-preference patterns like those seen in
the prairie voles. Miranda Lim and her colleagues used a viral vector to transfer
this segment of the prairie vole DNA into the ventral forebrain of a meadow
vole. They were targeting the ventral pallidum. She and her coauthors wrote
that they were “in essence recreating a singular evolutionary event in the labo-
ratory” (Lim et al., 2004, p.754). The procedure successfully changed the dis-
tribution of the V1aR so that the ventral forebrain of the meadow vole now
looked like that of a prairie vole. The behavior was assessed by putting the ani-
mals through the standard partner-preference protocol after 24 hours of
cohabitation and sex with a partner. In the three-chambered choice apparatus
the control males spent as much time in contact with the unfamiliar female as
198 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
the ones with which they had been paired, whereas transgenic animals spent far
more time huddling with their partners than with the strangers! I still feel as if this
study is one of the most extraordinary that I have learned about in the many
years that I have been in the business of behavioral neuroscience!
As occurs in most scientific advancements, as this experiment answered old
questions it raised new ones. Some were about the proximate mechanisms.
Perhaps the central question was, how did that change in V1aR distribution lead
to a change the behavior? Lim and colleagues (2004) suggested that the answer
lies in integration between sensory pathways and reward circuits involving
dopamine and the projection from the VTA to the ventral forebrain, where
the NAc lies. In their words, “We propose that, during pair bond formation,
concurrent activation of individual recognition and reward pathways results
in convergent V1aR and D2 receptor activation in the ventral forebrain, lead-
ing to an association between the rewarding nature of sex and the olfactory sig-
nature of the partner and thus the development of a conditioned partner
preference” (Lim et al., 2004, p. 756). A great deal of work in this area has
focused on this hypothesis, and it has received considerable support. However,
in other ways the story of the mechanisms behind pair-bond formation has not
been so simple (e.g., Phelps et al., 2010).
For example, while pair bonding is the norm among prairie voles, not all of
these animals are bound so tightly to their partners that they will not take
opportunities to copulate with others; in fact, approximately 25 percent of
these animals are conceived through extra-pair copulations (i.e., copulations
with individuals other than the socially bonded partner). Given the story of
the V1aR gene and reward circuits, one might have expected to see a relation-
ship between fidelity and expression of the gene in the ventral forebrain. Stud-
ies of these animals in large, seminatural outdoor enclosures revealed that
differences in the degree of sexual fidelity were completely unrelated to
V1aR distribution in the reward circuits of the ventral forebrain. However,
they were related to V1aR densities in parts of the neocortex and the hippo-
campus, a very unexpected finding (Ophir et al., 2008)! Variation in the
degree of monogamy among prairie voles does not seem to be as straightfor-
ward as variation between prairie voles and meadow voles. And then there is
the question of what happens when we move beyond the microtine rodents? Did
independent evolutionary transitions to a pair-bonding lifestyle all occur via
changes in genes that regulate the distribution of V1aRs? This is an interesting
and complex issue that investigators are still grappling with. But I will leave
the pair-bonding story here and turn to another area of behavioral neurosci-
ence where questions about evolutionary processes and about proximate
mechanisms have merged. We will be stepping back from a focus on the
NEURAL SYSTEMS , BEHAVIOR , AND EVOLUTION 199
new patterns, but so did those that coordinate such things as body temperature,
hormone secretion, liver function, kidney function, as well as the time of day at
which animals mate, ovulate, eat, drink, sing, and sleep. Somehow at each evolu-
tionary transition from one temporal niche to another the brain mechanisms
coordinating the timing of this multitude of functions were transformed.
A gradual, step-by-step, incremental, evolutionary transition from nocturnal-
ity to diurnality, or vice versa, would seem to have required marching into a very
maladaptive valley between two optimal “adaptive peaks.” Wouldn’t many gener-
ations of animals have had to live and reproduce in an intermediate state of temporal
confusion with disorganized daily patterns of physiology, brain function, and behavior
to make it from the nocturnal to the diurnal state? Consider sleep and wakefullness,
for example. In a nocturnal rodent the daily patterning of these states is regulated
by the coordination between neural pathways that produce arousal at night, on
the one hand, and systems that push for sleep during the day. So, how would such
animals survive an evolutionary transition to diurnality if first the wake-promoting
mechanisms changed their activity pattern to keep the animals up during the day,
but arousal-promoting pathways continued to keep them up at night? The poor
things would suffer from serious insomnia! What if the mechanisms that influence
the time of day at which mate seeking occurs were now out of phase with the rhythms
in neuroendocrine function that make it possible for the females to ovulate and get
pregnant? No matter how much mating was going on, there might be very few
babies! Most brain functions are rhythmic, and though their patterns are not
identical, they are beautifully coordinated to produce an adaptive pattern opti-
mized for either a diurnal or a nocturnal existence, but not both. This general
issue represents one of the puzzles of any major evolutionary transition from
one niche to another. How were the maladaptive valleys between the adaptive peaks
bridged? There are no fossils of a biological rhythm or of the brain regions respon-
sible for their coordination, and even if there were they would be hard to study.
So the only way to begin to answer the ultimate question of how diurnality
evolved is to learn about the proximate mechanisms that produce these rhythms
and how they may differ in modern-day diurnal and nocturnal species. Our
understanding of that is far from complete, but it is getting better, and that is
what we will be considering here. But we need to start with the question of where
the rhythms are generated.
In the Beginning . . .
The study of brain mechanisms generating and coordinating circadian
rhythms in behavior really took off after a 1972 paper was published by Fred
Stephan and Irving Zucker. It was clear at that time that light could influence
NEURAL SYSTEMS , BEHAVIOR , AND EVOLUTION 201
could respond differently to the retinal input such that its pattern of entrain-
ment is 180 degrees out of phase in diurnal and nocturnal animals; (2) the
oscillator in the SCN could be linked to the light/dark cycle in the same
way, but it could be coupled differently to processes that determine the pat-
tern of signals that the SCN sends out; or (3) the SCN could emit the same
signals, and the differences could lie downstream of it. For example, cells that
the SCN projects to could respond differently to its signals, or SCN outputs
could extend to different populations of target cells, or differences between
nocturnal and diurnal animals could emerge from processes that lie down-
stream of SCN targets. These possibilities are not mutually exclusive, as there
are many distinctly different subpopulations of cells within the SCN, as well as
in regions that receive input from it. Next, I will consider each of these basic
possibilities in turn.
the primary circadian oscillator and in ambient light comes from studies of
molecular processes within the SCN. The details of exactly how a sequence
of changes in gene expression can repeat itself according to a rhythm with a
period of approximately 24 hours are described in Chapter 11. The point for
us here is simply that the pattern of those rhythms, and their phase relative
to a light/dark cycle, are the same in virtually all nocturnal and diurnal animals
that have been looked at. This includes nocturnal mice, rats, and hamsters as
well as diurnal ground squirrels, grass rats, degus (Octodon degus), and sheep
(Ovis aries) (reviewed in Smale et al., 2008).
This was taken by many as proof that the SCN is the same across species
regardless of their activity patterns and that differences between them must
emerge downstream of that central “clock.”
Another early line of evidence consistent with this hypothesis came from
direct recordings of the rate at which SCN neurons fire off action potentials
and how that rate changes over a 24-hour period (e.g., Inouye & Kawamura,
1979; Green & Gillette, 1982). These studies revealed rhythms with their
peaks during the day and troughs at night in rats, chipmunks, and guinea pigs
(Cavia porcellus). Some of these signals were certainly involved in local circuits
processing information within the SCN, but others must have been playing a
role in getting the message about time of day outwards to regions beyond the
SCN. Interestingly, when the electrodes were misplaced and picked up on
neuronal activity outside of the SCN, rhythms were also apparent, but here
the peak was during the day in chipmunks (which are diurnal) and at night
in the rats (which are nocturnal)! The case that the SCN clock is the same,
from its inputs through its outputs, was getting to be pretty convincing, and
it was looking like cells beyond the SCN must be responding to SCN signals
differently.
Still, for the holdouts, there was the possibility that those action potentials,
though they reach the terminals at the same time of day in nocturnal and diur-
nal animals, might be triggering the release of different neurotransmitters or
neuromodulators. Screens of neuropeptides in the SCN, and of rhythms
within the SCN cells that produced those molecules, revealed some differences
among species but nothing that distinguished a diurnal from a nocturnal SCN
(Smale et al., 2003). One of these is actually AVP, which is depicted in the
SCN of a Nile grass rat (Arvicanthiss niloticus): http://rhythms.psy.msu.edu/
uploads/images/avp_scn.jpg.
Most importantly, rhythms in synthesis of the mRNA for each of three out-
put molecules were found to be identical in the nocturnal and diurnal species
in which they were examined (Smale et al., 2008). Specifically, this was true
for comparisons between one diurnal species, the Nile grass rat, and two noc-
turnal ones, lab rats and mice.
This brings us to an important caveat and an interesting question: Will the
conclusions drawn concerning a transition to diurnality along one phylogenetic line
inform us about how it happened along others? Did all evolutionary pathways to
diurnality involve the same changes in the same neural mechanisms? Did they all
leave the SCN alone and only alter downstream, direct or indirect, responses to
its signals? There are some suggestions that this might not be the case. Let us
consider the degu. These caviomorph rodents from South America are active
primarily during the day in nature, though they may become crepuscular at
NEURAL SYSTEMS , BEHAVIOR , AND EVOLUTION 205
some times of year (reviewed in Hagenauer & Lee, 2008). The possibility that
the SCN of degus might function differently from that of nocturnal rodents
was examined in several studies of these animals. One that was particularly
interesting involved directly comparing neuronal activity recorded from elec-
trodes placed in the SCN of degus and lab rats (Vosko et al., 2009). Two
differences between these species were identified. The first was the likelihood
that a light pulse would stimulate an increase or a decrease in the rate at which
action potentials were fired by individual SCN neurons. In rats, approximately
six times more cells were activated than suppressed by the light, whereas in
degus approximately three times more were suppressed than were activated.
This is quite a striking difference! Second, some neurons did not respond to
light at all in either species, and among rats, these cells fired at higher rates
during the day than night, whereas in degus these rates were absolutely identi-
cal. These fascinating results suggest that signaling between neurons within
the SCN, and/or signals sent from the SCN to its targets, are different in degus
and rats. Could these differences reflect changes that supported a transition to diur-
nality along the evolutionary pathway to modern-day degus? We do not know
yet, but the data are certainly consistent with that hypothesis. But when we
turn to a representative of another group of diurnal rodents, the sciurids, this
does not appear to be the case. In their study of chipmunks (Eutameous siberi-
cus), Tetsu Sato and Hiroshi Kawamura (1984) found that SCN cells fired at
higher rates during the day than night, just as they do in nocturnal rats.
So, what message can we take home from the few studies that provide informa-
tion bearing on the question of whether the oscillator in the SCN is coupled differ-
ently to SCN output signals in day- and night-active animals? There are no
definitive answers. However, the data do suggest the possibility that this may
have contributed to diurnality in some species (e.g., degus), but that it is very
unlikely to have played a role in others (e.g., grass rats and sciurids).
The diurnal animals in which circadian mechanisms beyond the SCN have
been examined most fully are grass rats from Africa. These members of the genus
Arvicanthis include the unstriped Nile grass rat and the Sudanese grass rat
(A. ansorgei). Each of these species has made its way into the labs of circadian
biologists, though on opposite sides of the Atlantic Ocean. Although studies of
the former species, in the United States, have been more extensive, the only
direct examination of responsiveness to an SCN signal was done with the Suda-
nese grass rat, in Holland (Kalsbeek et al., 2008). That experiment looked at
secretion of the hormone corticosterone from the adrenal gland, which rises in
anticipation of the beginning of the most active period of an animal’s day. One
SCN signal that plays a role in this is a peptide that we encountered in our dis-
cussion of pair bonds, AVP. It had been known for some years that when AVP
is infused into a region of the hypothalamus that receives input from the SCN,
it stimulates a rise in corticosterone in the blood of nocturnal lab rats. The ques-
tion now was whether such infusions might have the opposite effect in the Suda-
nese grass rat, and the answer was “yes”! This was a truly elegant and pioneering
study, the first and only direct evidence that responses to SCN signals can differ
in nocturnal and diurnal species. Mechanisms mediating behavioral responses to
SCN signals, however, are not as well understood as those producing rhythms in
hormone secretion. In fact, no direct studies on them have been conducted in
diurnal species. However, in the case of the Nile grass rat, we do know something
about rhythms in a suite of brain areas that mediate a variety of behaviors and
that receive direct or indirect input from the SCN.
Before going any further, however, I need to fill you in a bit about these Nile
grass rats, which my students and I have been studying for some years now,
because much of the research described below comes from this work. These are
small (60–80 g) murid rodents that look very much like a mouse or a rat (though
I like to think they are a bit more handsome, and they smell better). They are also
quite beautiful, for those who love animals, as can be seen in the photograph
here: http://www.cons-dev.org/GVS/images/hab/252.jpg.
They come from East Africa, where I was living from 1988 to 1992.
During that time I often saw these animals out and about during the brightest,
hottest periods of the day, something that is relatively rare for a murid. My
interest in behavior, its neural substrates, and the evolutionary processes that
shaped them came together as I thought, what was it that drove them out of
their burrows during the day and into them at night? So I brought them home,
into my lab at Michigan State University, where we have been working with
them to try to figure out the key(s) to diurnality—which brings us back to
the idea that it seems to reside downstream of the SCN.
NEURAL SYSTEMS , BEHAVIOR , AND EVOLUTION 207
So where does the SCN send its signals? Tract-tracing studies have revealed
that axons extending outward from the SCN project to the same basic target
regions in grass rats as in nocturnal rodents (Novak et al., 2000; Schwartz
et al., 2010). So, at a regional level, the wiring-diagram hypothesis does not
hold up. What about rhythms within those regions—are they different in noctur-
nal and diurnal species? To address these questions, a series of studies has been
conducted to assess temporal patterns of change in numbers of cells that con-
tain two kinds of proteins. One, cFos, is a product of an immediate early gene
whose expression is linked to the activity of cells (Hoffman et al., 1993). The
others, Period 1 and Period 2 (Per1/2), are elements of the molecular oscillator
in the SCN, which is necessary for, and drives, circadian rhythms in behavior
(Ko & Takahashi, 2006). However, as described in Chapter 11, molecular
oscillators are present in other brain regions as well. These “extra-SCN oscilla-
tors” almost all depend on the SCN, and their rhythms damp out if it is
lesioned. Therefore, a series of studies was launched to investigate the tempo-
ral patterns of cFos and Per1/2 in order to determine if a simple switching
mechanism could have shifted rhythms beyond the SCN in a uniform man-
ner, thereby transforming a diurnal brain into a nocturnal one. The answer
seems to be that it is considerably more complicated.
The temporal patterns of change in cFos in the brains of Nile grass rats
reveal that some areas that receive input directly from the SCN exhibit
rhythms that are 12 hours out of phase with those seen in nocturnal lab rats,
but that others are shifted by just 9 hours or 4 hours (Smale et al., 2008).
Studies of Per1/2 beyond the SCN also reveal rhythms with varying phase
relationships in grass rats relative to lab rats, but most are shifted by a full
12 hours (Ramanathan et al., 2008, 2010). These areas include, for example,
the VTA, the NAc, and the hippocampus. One cannot help but wonder if pat-
terns in the first two regions could lead to different rhythms in reward-related
processes (perhaps even those associated with sex behavior and social bonds),
or if the patterns in the third area could influence daily fluctuations in abilities
of animals to learn to find their way around.
Overall, the data on cFos and Per1/2 suggest that the evolution of diurnal-
ity in grass rats did not involve changes in a single structure or pathway. The
system through which the SCN produces a range of rhythms in behavior
and physiology includes multiple intersecting output pathways, and the pic-
ture emerging for the grass rat is one in which direct and indirect components
of this output system differ in a multitude of ways from those seen in noctur-
nal rats. Taken as whole, the product is a coordinated suite of rhythms in
behavior and physiology exquisitely adapted to a diurnal niche.
208 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
organization to a nocturnal one can reveal something about the nature of plas-
ticity in the mechanisms that organize the temporal program of an animal.
The question is, what other aspects of temporal organization in these animals
are shifted in the nocturnal direction by the presence of the wheel? Patterns of
feeding and drinking behavior, and the day/night ratio of behavioral sleep,
all shift with the wheel running (Schwartz & Smale, 2005). In fact, unpub-
lished data from our laboratory show that masking responses are altered such
that light now triggers a decrease in activity rather than an increase, as it does
ordinarily. However, other features of the animals’ temporal program are not
so easily bounced around. For example, although the individuals that run
most at night sleep more during the day, that sleep is highly fragmented,
whereas their nighttime sleep is consolidated into longer bouts (Schwartz &
Smale, 2005). This day-night difference is indistinguishable from that seen
in the grass rats that maintain a diurnal pattern of behavior.
When looking into the brains of these animals, one also sees plasticity in
some aspects of the temporal program but not in others. A suite of rhythms
in both Per1 and Per2 in regions beyond the SCN undergoes a full 12-hour
reversal in phase when running occurs at night (Ramanathan et al., 2010).
These extra-SCN oscillators become indistinguishable from those seen in noc-
turnal laboratory rats! This is the case, for example, in the hippocampus. Yet
some of these rhythms are more stubbornly stuck in the diurnal program. This
is the case, for example, for Per2 in the NAc. These patterns suggest that
rhythms in behaviors regulated by these structures, such as memory formation
and sex behavior, might be able to adapt relatively easily as animals move
towards a nocturnal niche. A similar story seems to come through when one
examines rhythms in Fos (Smale et al., 2008). Rhythms in one arousal-
related population of cells in the hypothalamus (those containing a neuropep-
tide called orexin) are perfectly reversed in the day- and night-active grass rats,
which is not the case in one region of the hypothalamus that promotes sleep
(the ventrolateral preoptic area, or VLPO; Schwartz & Smale, 2005). Here,
one can easily imagine that the former could help during adjustment of a diur-
nal animal to a new temporal niche by maintaining arousal at night, while the
latter would lag behind and interfere with a simple transition by preventing
sleep consolidation during the day.
So, let us get back to evolution. Cyclical behavior patterns have been
shaped by natural selection, which acts on heritable variation. When the
grass rats were brought to the United States from Kenya, only one in 15
showed the night-active pattern of wheel running (Katona & Smale, 1997).
However, 13 of her 25 offspring did as well. A subsequent study confirmed
that the pattern is very highly heritable (Blanchong et al., 1999). Using the
210 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
pattern of wheel running as our criterion for selection had thus revealed herit-
ability of a surprising degree of plasticity in a linked suite of features of the
temporal program. Other aspects of timekeeping mechanisms in the brain
may be more resistant to change within a lifespan and less variable or less her-
itable. This may also be the case for other traits associated with adaptation to a
diurnal niche, such as those associated with sensory processing. The cone/rod
ratio in the retina of the eye is 10 times higher in grass rats than lab rats, and
the size of the optic tectum is the same, though the lab rats are four times
the size of the grass rats. It is hard to know for sure, but structures that are this
different might be less plastic and require more time for natural selection to
chip away at.
What can the mosaic of patterns of plasticity and resistance tell us about the evo-
lution of adaptive change from one temporal niche to another? What it offers is
simply a suggestion of the kinds of plasticity that might have helped bridge
that valley between a diurnal and a nocturnal adaptive peak. The plasticity of
some features of the circadian system could have provided time for natural
selection to act on the traits that were more resistant to environmental influen-
ces during an individual’s lifetime.
CONCLUSIONS
The central focus of behavioral neuroscience has always been on efforts to
understand the relationships between the brain and behavior. The field has
traditionally asked such questions as, how does the brain enable animals to avoid
predators and find food, to have sex, and to take care of babies? It represents the
analysis of behavior at Tinbergen’s proximate level. However, behind all of
these behaviors is an evolutionary history from which these mechanisms have
emerged. Behavioral neuroscientists appreciate this more than ever and share
the excitement of a behavioral ecologist focused on the evolutionary forces,
such as natural selection, that may have shaped the evolution of new patterns
of behavior over many generations. At the same time, scientists focused at the
ultimate level are appreciating more and more how our understanding of
behavioral evolution can be so much deeper if we know something about the
mechanisms that produce it. The merging of Tinbergen’s levels has been
occurring at a rapidly accelerating rate. I could have written about this integra-
tion by telling you about bird song, learning and memory, social cognition, or
a host of other topics in behavioral biology, but I did not have the space! The
stories that I chose to tell, of pair bonds and of diurnality, may seem quite
unrelated, but what they have in common is that efforts to understand them
are beginning to bring together an appreciation of the fascinating bidirectional
NEURAL SYSTEMS , BEHAVIOR , AND EVOLUTION 211
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank Zuleyma Tang Martínez and Ken Yasukawa for their
enormous help in the preparation of this manuscript, and also Antonio A.
Nunez and Lily Yan for their helpful discussions on many of the issues in it.
Jacobs, L. F. (1996). Sexual selection and the brain. Trends in Ecology and Evolution,
11, 82–86.
Jacobs, L. F., S. J. C. Gaulin, D. F. Sherry, & G. E. Hoffman. (1990). Evolution of
spatial cognition: Sex-specific patterns of spatial behavior predict hippocampal
size. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 87, 6349–6352.
Kalsbeek, A., L. A. W. Verhagen, I. Schalij, E. Foppen, M. Saboureau, B. Bothorel,
R. M. Buijs, & P. Peyet. (2008). Opposite actions of hypothalamic vasopressin
on circadian corticosterone rhythm in nocturnal versus diurnal species. Euro-
pean Journal of Neuroscience, 27, 818–827.
Katona, C. & L. Smale. (1997). Wheel-Running Rhythms in Arvicanthis niloticus.
Physiology and Behavior, 61, 365–372.
Kavaliers, M., K.-P. Ossenkoop, L. A. M. Galea, & B. Kolb. (1998). Sex differ-
ences in spatial learning and prefrontal and parietal cortical dendritic mor-
phology in the meadow vole, Microtus pennsylvanicus. Brain Research, 810,
41–47.
Ko, C. H. & J. S. Takahashi. (2006). Molecular components of the mammalian cir-
cadian clock. Human Molecular Genetics, 15, R271–R277.
Kronfeld-Schor, N. & T. Dayan. (2008). Activity patterns of rodents: The
physiological ecology of biological rhythms. Biological Rhythm Research, 39,
193–211.
Lim, M. M., Z. Wang, D. E. Olazábal, X. Ren, E. F. Terwilliger, & L. J. Young.
(2004). Enhanced partner preference in a promiscuous species by manipulat-
ing the expression of a single gene. Nature, 429, 754–757.
Lucas, J. R., A. Brodin, S. R. de Kort, & N. S. Clayton. (2004). Does hippocampal
size correlate with degree of caching specialization?Proceedings of the Royal Soci-
ety of London, B, 271, 2423–2429.
McGuire, B. & M. Novak. (1984). A comparison of maternal behaviour in the
meadow vole (Microtus pennsylvanicus), prairie vole (M. ochrogaster), and pine
vole (M. pinetorum). Animal Behaviour, 32, 1132–1141.
Moore, R. Y. & N. J. Lenn. (1972). A retinohypothalamic projection in the rat.
Journal of Comparative Neurology, 146, 1–14.
Nakazawa, K., T. J. McHugh, M. A. Wilson, & S. Tonegawa. (2004). NMDA recep-
tors, place cells and hippocampal spatial memory. Nature Reviews Neuroscience,
5, 361–372.
Nicholas, A., C. D. Munhoz, D. Ferguson, L. Campbell, & R. Sapolsky. (2006).
Enhancing cognition after stress with gene therapy. Journal of Neuroscience,
26, 11637–11643.
Novak, C. M., J. A. Harris, L. Smale, & A. A. Nunez. (2000). Suprachiasmatic
nucleus projections to the paraventricular thalamic nucleus in nocturnal rats
(Rattus norvegicus) and diurnal Nile grass rats (Arviacanthis niloticus). Brain
Research, 874, 147–157.
O’Keefe, J. & L. Nadel. (1978). The Hippocampus as a Cognitive Map. Oxford, UK:
Oxford University Press.
214 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
INTRODUCTION
In an ever-changing environment, animals frequently adjust their behavioral
traits or tactics to maximize their survival and reproductive output. This
means that there is plasticity in the physiological and neurological mecha-
nisms that govern how an individual processes and responds to sensory
stimuli, samples its environment, assesses its internal condition, and produces
motor responses. To make matters more complicated, it is sometimes neces-
sary for more than one of these mechanistic channels to change simultaneously
so that animals can modify more complex behavioral repertoires. How do these
changes in internal physiology (and thus behavioral output) occur, and how are
they coordinated with an animal’s external surroundings? The endocrine system
plays an important role in these processes, and we can study the diverse ways
in which components of the endocrine system have evolved to affect behavior
both within individuals and across species.
In this chapter, we explore a diversity of social paradigms that illustrate
interactions between endocrine communication within the body and social
stimuli in the environment. Our primary focus will be on the roles of steroid
hormones and behavior, but we will also examine the effects of a few other
peptide hormones that have proven integral to how behavior is modulated.
With this framework in mind, we will search for evidence of how natural
and sexual selection have interacted with hormonal systems to sculpt adaptive
behavioral diversification.
218 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
HORMONES
Hormones are generally considered chemical messengers released from cells
into the bloodstream to exert action on a distant target tissue. Usually, target
tissues contain receptors that bind to specific hormones, such that each
hormone-receptor complex triggers its own unique cascade of reactions that
eventually modify cellular activity. In some cases, the effects of hormones are
relatively slow (hours to days), and these effects can persist for a relatively long
time. However, in other instances, the effects of hormones can be incredibly
rapid (seconds to minutes), and the effects can be similarly quick to fade.
Numerous factors, including the chemical properties of a given hormone, its
receptor, and physiological constraints on intracellular reactions, determine
the speed and duration of hormone effects. We will not delve into the nuances
of hormone biochemistry; instead, we will base our discussion on the relatively
simple model of hormone action described above and draw on hormone bio-
chemistry when it is germane to a specific case or example.
Steroid Hormones
Steroids are a category of hormone known to have pronounced effects on
animal behavior. The adrenal glands and gonads (testes and ovaries) are the
two primary tissues that secrete steroid hormones, though there are a few other
tissues, such as the brain, that are sometimes also considered endocrine
glands. The molecular precursor to all vertebrate steroid hormones is choles-
terol, which is obtained from plasma lipoproteins and stored in steroidogenic
(steroid-producing) glands. Cholesterol and its steroid-hormone products
share a fundamental structure of three carbon hexagons and one carbon penta-
gon. However, steroids all differ with respect to the carbon and oxygen atoms
attached to these rings and whether the carbons in each ring contain single or
double bonds. Within all endocrine organs (as well as other nonendocrine tis-
sues), a vast network of enzymes is expressed to synthesize the various types of
steroidal precursors and steroidal hormones (Figure 7.1). Also important is
that steroid hormones are lipophilic, which means that steroids can pass
through cellular membranes with relative ease.
In the first major section of this chapter, we will mainly discuss the effects
of three classes of steroid hormones: androgens, estrogens, and glucocorti-
coids (Figure 7.1). Of these, androgens and estrogens are considered sex ste-
roids, given their “masculinizing” and “feminizing” effects, respectively (their
overlap in function is discussed later in the chapter). Androgens predomi-
nantly include the steroids testosterone (T), 5α-dihydrotestosterone (DHT),
androstenedione (ANDRO), and dehydroepiandrosterone (DHEA), though
HORMONES AND ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 219
Figure 7.1. Steroid hormone biosynthesis pathway. The name of each steroidal com-
pound is given below the corresponding molecular structure, with abbreviations
used in text indicated as well. Names above arrows denote the enzymes that catalyze
the conversion of precursor to product.
there are other types of androgens that we will not discuss here. Estrogens
include estradiol (E), estriol, and estrone. Glucocorticoids are loosely consid-
ered “stress” hormones because their function is frequently associated with
acute and chronic stress stimuli. In most vertebrates, the main glucocorticoid
is corticosterone (CORT), although in humans and other primates the main
glucocorticoid is cortisol.
Control of androgen and estrogen secretion occurs mostly through the
hypothalamic-pituitary-gonadal (HPG) axis. Top-down regulation of this
axis begins with a part of the brain called the hypothalamus, which emits
gonadotropin-releasing hormone (GnRH). GnRH then travels to the
220 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
pituitary gland, where it binds and induces the release of luteinizing hor-
mone (LH) and follicle-stimulating hormone (FSH) into circulation. These
two hormones eventually reach the gonads and regulate the production of
sex steroids. The HPG axis is under negative feedback control, meaning that
sex steroids typically act on the hypothalamus and pituitary to decrease
GnRH, LH, and FSH production, respectively. Thus, high levels of sex ste-
roids are capable of suppressing further production via the HPG system.
Control of glucocorticoids occurs mostly through the hypothalamic-
pituitary-adrenal (HPA) axis. Top-down regulation of this axis begins with
hypothalamic secretion of corticotropin-releasing hormone (CRH), which
travels and binds to the pituitary gland. Next, the pituitary gland releases
adrenocorticotropic hormone (ACTH) into the bloodstream. ACTH acts
on the adrenal glands and causes them to release glucocorticoids.
Nonapeptide Hormones
In the second major section of this chapter we focus on neuropeptide hor-
mones that also have a strong influence on behavior. These hormones are just a
few amino acids in length. The prehormones are processed in the endoplasmic
reticulum, packaged into secretory vesicles that are released from the cell when
the membrane-bound packages fuse with the cell membrane, and are secreted
from cells via exocytosis. We focus here only on the nonapeptides, so named
because they have nine amino acids: oxytocin (OT) and vasopressin (AVP).
The nonmammalian homologues of interest are mesotocin (MT) and vasotocin
(AVT). These peptide hormones function as both hormones and neuromodula-
tors (substances that alter nerve-impulse transmission). For example, oxytocin
functions in milk letdown in response to nursing or stimulation of the nipple.
Oxytocin is released from the posterior pituitary into the blood, where it can in-
fluence distant targets, thus acting as a hormone. AVP is released into the blood
as well, and one of its well-known functions is to regulate the water balance of an
organism. In addition to these physiological functions, both peptides are also syn-
thesized and released in other brain areas and can therefore function as neuromo-
dulators by influencing the corresponding receptors in the brain.
In the following paragraphs we link these steroid and peptide hormones to
a diversity of social behaviors.
behavior (though we will see later in this chapter that this is not always the case).
In male rodents, for example, removal of the testes (castration) reduces sexual
behavior, and this effect is rescued by treatment with either T or ANDRO. It
is interesting to note, however, that treatment with DHT by itself does not res-
cue male sex behavior entirely (Davidson, 1966a, 1966b; Nelson, 2000). DHT
in general does not have estrogenic effects because it is not converted to E via
the enzyme aromatase, whereas both T and ANDRO can be converted. Overall,
this suggests that some of the effects of androgens on sex behavior occur through
estrogenic channels after T is converted to E. Studies have indeed shown that this
idea has merit, as E treatment in rodents activates sexual behavior (Beyer et al.,
1976; Davidson, 1969). Birds and reptiles show similar pathways through which
androgens (via conversion to E) regulate male sexual behavior (Hutchison, 1970;
Hutchison & Steimer, 1983; Woolley et al., 2004).
The story of how steroids control sexual behavior in females is slightly more
complicated, because sex involves coordination between reproductive cycles and
neuronal pathways that underlie sex behavior. In female mammals, the two ste-
roids E and progesterone (P) usually act in a coordinated manner to regulate
sex behavior. For example, in female rodents, E needs to act roughly one day
before P to induce what is considered normal sexual behavior (McCarthy &
Becker, 2002). If either of these hormones is given by itself or in the reverse
order, then female sexual behavior is abnormal or is not shown. In general, it is
thought that E primes parts of the female brain that facilitate proper behavior
during sexual encounters, though the exact nature of this priming is not yet
completely understood (Erskine, 1989; Nelson, 2000; see Powers, 1970;
Whalen, 1974).
The way E and P interact in a natural context to induce sex behavior is also
quite intriguing, and one of the best examples comes from golden hamsters
(Mesocricetus auratus) (Lisk et al., 1983; Lisk & Reuter, 1980). Males and
females of this species live solitary lives; they inhabit burrows by themselves
and vigorously protect these homes from all intruders. This, of course, poses
a problem when individuals want to reproduce, because they are predisposed
to being solitary. However, when E is released from the ovaries, it causes
females to begin rubbing a vaginal secretion that attracts males around the
entrance of their burrow. Next, P acts to induce sexual receptivity, such that
females allow enticed males into their burrow for copulation. Once ovulation
occurs, E and P levels drop and females again become aggressive and readily
evict any intruder from their burrow (described in Adkins-Regan, 2005).
Suppression of sex behavior—Another steroid that is important for sexual
behavior is CORT, which in many species suppresses the ability or willingness
to reproduce. A good example of this is found in male rough-skinned newts
222 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
(Taricha granulosa), which typically clasp onto a prospective mate for several
days and fertilize her eggs at some point during this amplexus. While T helps
activate male clasping (and there is little that can disrupt clasping), the percep-
tion of a predator can quickly cause a male to release. This occurs because
acute stressors, such as the presence of a predator, generate an immediate rise
in circulating CORT, which in turn rapidly alters the signaling properties of
neurons in the brain stem and spinal cord that control motoric elements of
clasping (Coddington & Moore, 2003; Deviche & Moore, 1988; Moore &
Miller, 1984; Moore & Orchinik, 1994).
An additional example of CORT-induced reproductive suppression comes
from research in white-crowned sparrows (Zonotrichia leucophrys), particularly
populations that inhabit the northern Rocky Mountains of the United States.
These individuals sometimes experience snowstorms during the early spring
when males are beginning to compete for and defend territories. Such cli-
matic events cause CORT levels to increase, which is associated with an
abrupt change from defending a territory to searching for food. To test the
hypothesis that CORT causes this behavioral switch, researchers first gave
male song sparrows (Melospza melodia) (close relatives to white-crowned spar-
rows) CORT implants and then measured their territorial behavior. CORT-
implanted males showed virtually no aggression toward staged territorial
intruders, despite no change in T levels, compared to males with normal
CORT levels (Wingfield et al., 1998; Wingfield & Sapolsky, 2003). Thus,
this strongly supports the idea that stressful environmental events, such as
the onset of late-spring blizzards, can restrain sexual behavior via the actions
of stress hormones like CORT.
When we consider much of the work investigating the relationship between
sex steroids, stress steroids, and reproduction from a broader standpoint, an
interesting pattern emerges. It appears that acute activation of the HPA axis
and the subsequent secretion of glucocorticoids does not necessarily “turn
off” the HPG axis and secretion of gonadal steroids; rather, when it is on,
the HPA axis has the potential to outcompete the HPG axis. Recall that in
white-crowned sparrows, a snowstorm increases circulating CORT but does
not reduce circulating T from levels that are sufficient to induce reproduction.
This means that an acute stressor is able to physiologically redirect an animal’s
priorities from sex to survival, but once this stressor is removed and HPA axis
activity is diminished, the HPG axis is still functioning and can immediately
switch priorities back toward sex (reviewed by Adkins-Regan, 2005; Wingfield
& Sapolsky, 2003). Given this, the HPG and HPA axes seem to have evolved
an ability to interact with each other such that reproduction is maximized
HORMONES AND ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 223
Courtship Behavior
Courtship behavior is often an essential component of reproduction and
has numerous functions, such as species recognition, coordination of repro-
ductive physiology, and assessment of mate quality. In many species, different
features of courtship behavior have evolved to be immensely complex and
involve vocalization displays, visual displays, and stereotyped movements of
the body. Given the tight link between courtship and sex, it is unsurprising
that many types of courtship behavior are guided by the actions of steroids,
particularly sex steroids.
Steroids and vocalizations—Bird song is arguably the best-studied form of
courtship behavior in wild animals. This is particularly true in passeriform birds
(perching birds), which have evolved a unique and complicated network of brain
regions that control how and when a bird sings. Nearly all of the areas within this
neural song system are sensitive to sex steroids, and it is widely understood that
androgens, estrogens, and glucocorticoids act on these regions to dramatically
affect song learning and production. A relatively simple, yet elegant, example of
the relationship between sex steroids and bird song occurs in the grey partridge
(Perdix perdix) (Fusani et al., 1994). Males and females flock together in large
social groups during the winter but then pair off and form pair bonds during
the spring. Males sing a species-specific song throughout the entire year; this song
helps gather individuals in the winter when birds flock, and its helps attract mates
in the spring when birds begin to pair. Experiments show that endogenous
plasma T, which is basal in the winter and rises in the spring, helps mediate struc-
tural changes to the male song that help distinguish a “noncourtship song” from
a “courtship song” (Fusani, 2008; Fusani et al., 1994).
HORMONES AND ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 225
nearby female watches the two males (but only mates with the dominant
male). The dominant males have higher plasma androgens than subordinate
males (DuVal & Goymann, 2010). Because subordinate males are able to par-
ticipate in the dance even though they have relatively low androgens, these
data suggest that androgens do not necessarily mediate the ability to court.
Instead, androgens may indirectly influence courtship by affecting a male’s
status compared to others within the population (DuVal, 2007; DuVal &
Kempenaers, 2008).
Taken together, experiments that investigate the hormonal control of mana-
kin courtship behavior suggest an interesting pattern—it appears that selection
may couple the effects of sex steroids with courtship traits that most closely relate
to male copulation, as opposed to those traits that trigger the onset of courtship.
In other words, in golden-collared manakins, evidence suggests that androgens
are tightly associated with the motor skills required for male displays, and other
work suggests that females base their mate choice decisions on these attributes
(Barske et al., 2011). On the other hand, in lance-tailed manakins, evidence sug-
gests that androgens are tightly associated with male social status because this ulti-
mately dictates whether a male mates with the female for whom he performs
(DuVal, 2007; DuVal & Kempenaers, 2008).
Parenting Behavior
To grow and mature into reproducing adults, newly hatched or born off-
spring sometimes require care from their parents. The amount and type of care
that parents give typically varies across species. Thus, selection has sculpted
numerous mechanisms to govern how and when animals tend to their young,
and steroid action is but one of these mechanisms. Keep in mind, however, that
steroids do not singlehandedly influence parent-offspring interactions. Rather,
steroids act in concert with a host of other hormones, such as prolactin and other
neuropeptides, that can be equally important in affecting parental behavior.
Steroids and parental behavior—In mammals, females provide most of the
care given to their offspring. To elucidate the mechanisms that control this
care, researchers first examined the effects of hormones (e.g., steroids) that
linked with pregnancy itself. Indeed, steroids fluctuate significantly in preg-
nant mothers. For example, in sheep (Ovis aries) and mice (Mus musculus),
E and P levels increase slowly over the course of gestation, and then P rapidly
drops before parturition. Old World primates, including humans, show a
slightly different pattern. These species exhibit relatively high levels of E and
P for much of pregnancy, and both of these steroids precipitously decrease
before birth (reviewed by Nelson, 2000).
228 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Based on the bird studies described in the paragraph above, another way to
look at the relationship between T and paternal behavior is that low T levels
facilitate paternal interactions. This idea has been supported by ample
research, such as work in male common marmosets. In this mammal, males
and females form strong pair bonds and males provide care for their young.
Studies show that socially isolated males decrease plasma T as they are exposed
to the scent of their newborn offspring. Interestingly, this effect depends on
the male’s experience as a father, with first-time fathers showing no such drop
in T after exposure to their offspring’s scent (Prudom et al., 2008).
While the negative relationship between T and paternal behavior is compel-
ling, there are also exceptions to this rule in mammals, fish, and birds (Lynn,
2008; Marler et al., 2003; Rodgers et al., 2006). The exceptions generally
appear when paternal behavior overlaps with temporal expression of aggression
and mating behavior, unlike birds, in which there is often a temporal dissoci-
ation between setting up a territory and mating, which is then often followed
by paternal care. The California mouse (Peromyscus californicus) is one of these
exceptions, as males and females mate for life (Ribble, 1991) and males pro-
vide extensive care for their offspring (Becker et al., 2010; Bester-Meredith
& Marler, 2003; Bester-Meredith et al., 1999; Frazier et al., 2006; Marler
et al., 2003). In fact, if the male is removed from his mate, the number of pups
that survive to leave the nest is dramatically reduced (Gubernick & Teferi,
2000). Experiments have uncovered that this exemplary care is influenced by
T, which is released from the gonads and then converted to E in the brain to
activate paternal behavior (Trainor & Marler, 2002). This may be one mecha-
nism for avoiding high costs of T but maintaining a positive association
between a peripheral hormone and a behavior because aromatase acts in spe-
cific brain regions to convert T to E. Males mate when the female has a post-
partum estrus (Gubernick & Alberts, 1987), and expression of paternal
behavior therefore generally overlaps with the expression of sexual and
mate-guarding behavior. Male T levels during courtship can even predict
future paternal behavior (Gleason & Marler, 2010). Thus, California mice
provide an example of the plasticity in the evolution of the links between tes-
tosterone and different reproductive behaviors, including paternal behavior.
Aggressive Behavior
The relationship between steroid hormones and aggression is as interesting
as it is complex, and one reason for this is that aggression itself has many func-
tional definitions. For example, some species use aggression to acquire re-
sources vital for survival, whereas others use it to defend their territories or
protect themselves from predators. As we indicate above, it is generally
230 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
in fact, in some species, T neither is the hormone that exerts the most control
over aggressive phenotypes, nor is singlehandedly capable of elevating
individuals within a social hierarchy (an elegant example is provided by
Apfelbeck & Goymann, 2011). For example, when researchers pharmaco-
logically blocked song sparrows’ ability to detect circulating androgens,
males showed only a partial reduction in aggressive behavior in response to
a territorial intrusion (Wacker et al., 2010). In other words, this treatment
does not completely abolish aggression, as it does in marine iguanas. Regard-
ing T and dominance, studies in chickens (Gallus gallus domesticus) show
that socially subordinate males are unable to climb the social hierarchy even
if their otherwise low circulating T is experimentally elevated (Guhl, 1968).
This effect is termed social inertia, and described how prior social experience
plays a significant role in keeping animals in their established positions
within a given social hierarchy regardless of their T levels (Archawaranon
et al., 1991; Wiley et al., 1999).
Within California mice and other species there is also evidence for more com-
plex control of competitive behavior. Male California mice experience a transient
increase in T after a competitive encounter with another male. Transient
increases in T after a male-male encounter, however, can only elicit a maximal
ability to win a future encounter in a laboratory paradigm when specific condi-
tions are met. First, the T pulse needs to be accompanied by a winning experi-
ence; in fact, a winning experience and T contribute equally to the future
ability to win (Fuxjager, Oyegbile, et al., 2011). Second, the encounters need
to occur in the home cage (“resident advantage”) (Fuxjager & Marler, 2010;
Fuxjager et al., 2009). Context is therefore critical for the effects of T on behavior
(Gleason et al., 2009). Further support is found across Peromyscus species. While
California mice are territorial and monogamous, the closely related white-footed
mouse (P. leucopus) is less territorial and also does not normally express a T pulse
after an encounter. If the T pulse is added to the experience of winning, however,
white footed mice can reach the maximal level of winning behavior expressed by
California mice (Fuxjager, Montgomery, et al., 2011).
Estrogenic control of aggression—Many researchers have sought to elucidate
other steroidal mechanisms that guide aggression, and much of their work
focuses on estrogens. This may seem intuitively odd, given that estrogens are
considered feminizing by the standards of popular culture; however, as we will
see, estrogens have a profound effect on aggressive phenotypes. This, for
example, was elegantly demonstrated by a study that compared antagonistic
behavior between male mice that were genetically normal (wild type) and
male mice that were genetically engineered to be insensitive to E (Ogawa
et al., 1997). To do this, mice from both genetic strains were subjected to a
232 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
In terms of cost, the steroid hormone given the most attention is T, and the
reason for this is grounded in studies of “honesty” in animal signaling. Recall
that T (in males) mediates the activation, maintenance, and development of
many traits used to acquire sexual opportunities and that such traits are usually
considered honest indicators of an individual’s quality. This, in theory, means
that any negative effect (cost) of T is a pathway through which sexual traits or
signals remain honest, because only high-quality males are capable of enduring
the adverse effects of T and still producing an attractive signal.
Androgens and mortality—Some of the first evidence to show that T is costly
to an organism’s fitness comes from work in mountain spiny lizards
(Sceloporus jarrovii), which inhabit the southwestern deserts of the United
States (Marler & Moore, 1988). Males of this species maintain low levels of
T from winter to early summer, when individuals aggregate and begin to form
territories. However, once fall arrives, T levels increase and induce vigorous
territoriality. In one experiment, researchers took males in the summer and
gave them T implants. This, in effect, increased the otherwise low amount
of circulating T to high levels of T normally observed in the fall. After this
treatment, males were released back onto their territories and observed for
the following weeks. Interestingly, males that had T levels experimentally
elevated were more likely to die than males that maintain normal summertime
T levels. What is therefore remarkable about this study is that it highlights an
enormous cost of T: mortality.
Of course, the follow-up question to this research in mountain spiny lizards
is, how does T actually affect whether an individual lives or not? The answer lies
in the details of the experiment, particularly with respect to the behavioral
changes that transpired in lizards treated with T (Marler & Moore, 1991).
For instance, researchers found that T simultaneously increased aggressiveness
and territoriality and decreased time spent looking for food. This, in effect,
means that T likely influences survivorship either by intensifying predation,
because males are more conspicuous during territorial interactions or by exac-
erbating energetic constraints because males forage less. To test between these
hypotheses, researchers conducted a separate experiment that was nearly iden-
tical to the study described in the paragraph above: they collected lizards,
manipulated their T levels, and observed their subsequent behavior in the
wild. However, in this case, a select number of individuals given T implants
were also given food supplementation. As it turns out, the negative effect of
T on mortality was completely rescued by providing males with extra food,
and there was no difference in conspicuousness (i.e., territorial behavior)
between T-implanted males given food supplements and those given nothing.
Thus, these results tell us that the cost of T is ultimately driven by the
HORMONES AND ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 235
Figure 7.2. Side view of brain areas involved in social behavior in a representative
mammal. Brain areas that are part of the social behavior neural network are in dark
gray. Each of these areas projects to each of the others. Brain areas that are part of the
mesolimbic reward system are in light gray. Note that lateral septum (LS) and bed
nucleus of the stria terminalis (BST) are part of both the social behavior neural
network and the mesolimbic reward system.
female, but not male, prairie voles (Cho et al., 1999; Williams et al., 1994).
Likewise, central infusion of AVP facilitates pair bond formation in male,
but not female, prairie voles (Cho et al., 1999; Winslow, Hastings, et al.,
1993). Interestingly, central infusion of AVP in male montane voles (Microtus
montanus) (a nonmonogamous vole species closely related to prairie voles)
does not induce pair bond formation (Young, Winslow, et al., 1997). These
data suggest that differences in neural target tissues (those containing the
receptors) play a significant role in the regulation of pair bonding behavior
by nonapeptides.
Studies of the neuroanatomical basis of pair bonding have focused largely
on the BST, LS, NAc, and VP (Young & Wang, 2004; Young et al., 2005)
brain areas in the social behavior neural network and the mesolimbic reward
system (Figure 7.2). Monogamous vole species have different AVP and OT
receptor densities in all four of these brain regions compared to nonmonoga-
mous vole species (Insel & Shapiro, 1992; Insel et al., 1994; Smeltzer et al.,
2006; Young et al., 1996), implicating nonapeptide neurotransmission in
these areas in monogamy and its characteristic behavior of pair bonding.
Manipulations of nonapeptide neurotransmission in the BST, LS, VP, and
NAc have revealed that pair bond formation is differentially regulated in male
and female prairie voles. Specifically, in male prairie voles, the formation of a
pair bond requires BST neurons to produce and release AVP into the LS.
Three days of cohabitation with a female induces this neurotransmission in
prairie vole males (Liu et al., 2001; Wang et al., 1994). Also in male prairie
voles, enhanced AVP neurotransmission in the VP facilitates, whereas block-
ing AVP neurotransmission prevents, partner-preference formation (Lim
et al., 2004; Lim & Young, 2004; Pitkow et al., 2001). In comparison,
enhanced OT neurotransmission in the NAc facilitates, whereas blocking
OT neurotransmission prevents, partner-preference formation in female prai-
rie voles (Liu & Wang, 2003; Ross et al., 2009; Young et al., 2001). These
effects are not observed in nonmonogamous meadow voles (Ross et al., 2009).
The differences in nonapeptide receptor distributions among vole species
described above may be due to species differences in the promoter regions of
the genes for AVP and OT receptors. For example, although the coding
regions of the V1aR (a type of AVP receptor) and OTR (OT receptor) genes
are similar across vole species (Young, 1999; Young et al., 1996; Young
et al., 1999; Young, Waymire, et al., 1997), the V1aR gene of monogamous
prairie and pine voles has several polymorphic repetitive microsatellite
sequences in the promoter region that are not found in nonmonogamous
meadow or montane voles (Hammock & Young, 2002, 2004; Young, 1999;
Young et al., 1999). Furthermore, there is considerable individual variation
HORMONES AND ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 243
in the length of this microsatellite within the prairie vole species (Hammock &
Young, 2002). These microsatellite-sequence differences may underlie species
differences and individual variation in receptor expression and associated
behavior. Through selective breeding of prairie voles, Elizabeth Hammock
and Larry Young revealed that male prairie voles with a long microsatellite in
the V1aR gene promoter had higher levels of V1aR binding in the olfactory
bulb and LS than males with a short microsatellite. These males with long
microsatellites were also more likely to form pair bonds after a brief cohabita-
tion with a female and displayed higher levels of paternal behavior (Hammock
& Young, 2005). House mice, which are typically nonmonogamous, that
carry a transgene coding for the prairie vole V1aR exhibited V1aR distribu-
tions similar to prairie voles and displayed higher levels of social affiliation
when injected with AVP (Young et al., 1999). These data support the hypoth-
esis that the differences in the promoter regions of the nonapeptide receptor
genes may underlie species and individual differences in receptor distributions
and associated behavior. This story becomes more complex as we increase our
understanding of the interactions among genetics, behavior, and the environ-
ment and by examining these interactions under more natural conditions (see
the section on aggression below).
The family unit described above allows for increased sociality above that of
the mother and offspring by including the father. Within a family unit this can
be expanded into alloparenting as well, in which offspring take care of their
siblings. Here we focus on a further expansion of sociality, which is the emer-
gence of gregariousness. Within larger groups of animals we see individuals
functioning in larger, more stable groups, and we can further conceive of
changes in behavior that may allow for increases in reciprocal altruism.
the BST (BSTm) and the LS mediates gregariousness. For example, two highly
gregarious finch species (zebra finches and spice finches [Lonchura punctulata])
exhibit approximately 10 times the number of AVT-containing neurons in the
BSTm than do two territorial species that live in male-female pairs year round
(Melba finches [Pytilia melba] and violet-eared waxbills [Uraeginthus granati-
nus]) and a modestly gregarious species (Angolan blue waxbill [Uraeginthus
angolensis]) (Goodson & Wang, 2006). Additionally, AVT receptors in the
LS are more abundant in the flocking species as compared to the territorial
species (Goodson et al., 2006). These data suggest that increased AVT cir-
cuitry of the BSTm and LS may promote gregariousness.
Gregarious species also have AVT neurons that are more responsive to
social group contexts, and this responsiveness is critical to gregariousness.
For example, exposure to conspecifics, but not a positive nonsocial stimulus,
increased the activity of BSTm AVT neurons in the highly gregarious zebra
finch (Goodson, Kabelik, et al., 2009; Goodson & Wang, 2006). Further-
more, blocking AVT neurotransmission between the BSTm and LS of zebra
finches eliminated their preference for contact with a larger group versus a
smaller group (Kelly et al., 2011), elegantly demonstrating that social group-
ing preferences in this gregarious species are under the direct control of AVT
neurotransmission between the BSTm and the LS.
However, AVT circuitry of the BSTm and LS does not appear to promote
sociality with all conspecifics (individuals belonging to the same species) but
specifically with individuals that elicit attraction and affiliation. For instance,
although reduction of AVT production in the BSTm of zebra finches elimi-
nated the preference for contact with a larger group versus a smaller group, it
increased preference for being closer to conspecifics in general (Kelly et al.,
2011). Additionally, although BSTm AVT neurons in territorial violet-eared
waxbills increased activity in response to exposure to their own pair-bond part-
ner, they decreased activity in response to a same-sex conspecific (Goodson &
Wang, 2006). These data in combination with those previously discussed sug-
gest that BSTm AVT cells are sensitive to the valence of social stimuli in that
they increase responses to stimuli that elicit affiliation and attraction but not
stimuli that elicit aggression and aversion. This assessment is supported by
recent data indicating that AVP neurons in the posterior BSTm of male mice
and AVT neurons in the posterior BSTm of male chickens increase activity in
response to interactions with female conspecifics but not in response to ago-
nistic encounters with male conspecifics (Ho et al., 2010; Xie et al., 2011).
OT-like circuitry seems to play a similar dual role in the regulation of
group-size preferences and preferences for familiar individuals, particularly in
females. For example, in female zebra finches, central infusions of MT
HORMONES AND ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 245
Aggressive Behavior
The relationship between nonapeptides and aggression is a complex one. As
seen previously with respect to pair bonding and gregarious behaviors, closely
related species often differ in their responses to nonapeptide manipulations. This
is also true with respect to aggressive behavior. For example, central infusions of
an AVP antagonist, which blocks binding to the receptor, inhibits aggression in
territorial California mice, but only in a resident-intruder paradigm. In contrast,
aggression in less territorial white-footed mice is not affected by central infusions
of AVP or AVP antagonists (Bester-Meredith et al., 2005). Similar contrasts are
observed in territorial prairie voles compared to less territorial montane voles
(Winslow, Shapiro, et al., 1993; Young, Winslow, et al., 1997). In male golden
hamsters, a solitary and aggressive species, central infusions of AVP into the
246 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
associated with sexual fidelity and space use in male prairie voles (Ophir et al.,
2008; Ophir et al., 2012). V1aR expression in cortical brain areas associated
with spatial memory (posterior cingulate and laterodorsal thalamus) and
OTR expression in the NAc was greater in males that were better at excluding
males from their territories. In contrast, lower levels of V1aR and OTR were
expressed in males displaying less residency behavior that had either less exclu-
sive territories (and were more likely to be cuckolded) or that expressed “wan-
dering” behavior to find mates. There were no associations in brain areas
linked with pair-bond behavior in the laboratory such as reward-related brain
areas (e.g., VP and LS). As we see our understanding of the functions and
regulation of nonapeptides extended, it is likely that the well-established roles
of AVP/AVT and OT in pair-bonding and reward-related brain areas will
remain important contributors to neurohormonal regulation of social behav-
ior, but the added complexity of the natural environment reveals other layers
of interaction that may not be uncovered under laboratory conditions.
SUMMARY
We have described how hormones impact numerous aspects of social behav-
ior from less social creatures to the increasing layers of social behavior that occur
with larger stable social groups. These neurochemicals and hormones are provid-
ing communication between cells in different parts of the body and different
parts of the brain. Each brain area has different cell types characterized in part
by what receptors they express. Moreover, expression of receptors can be very
plastic and change within a tissue. We generally focus on one behavior, but as
described above, it is more complex than this because no single behavior is occur-
ring in the absence of other behaviors, some of which increase and some of which
decrease based on social and physical contexts. The pattern of communication
between cells is altered and coordinated with different groups of behaviors often
changing depending on season, courtship behavior, breeding, parental behavior,
territoriality and aggression, and the complex social interactions that occur in
social groups. Some of these can be reduced to the simple components of
approach or withdrawal, but there are clearly added layers of complexity.
Hormones and behavior is a very dynamic area of research. It can extend
into more field-related studies, a critical tool for conservation that can incor-
porate more ecological concepts such as effects of climate change on behavior.
It can extend to a more complex understanding of the relationship between
hormones and behavior, a critical tool for many of the hormonal manipula-
tions in our environment that are caused by the estrogenic-like compounds
248 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
that we are introducing into our environment that are influencing both
humans and animals.
Our understanding of animal behavior can extend insights into many human
behavioral disorders. The tools for understanding disorders involving social inter-
actions are often significantly influenced by hormones, and animal behavior is
used to search for answers to many of these questions. At a molecular level, there
is an opportunity to explore how a huge variety of epigenetic mechanisms (see
Chapter 8) can influence sexual behavior, parental behavior, competitive and
aggressive interactions, and affiliative behaviors. The interactions will
undoubtedly be bidirectional, and resulting behavioral tendencies will express
varying degrees of stability. Finally, there is a beauty in understanding how hor-
mones are integrating and coordinating numerous aspects of the internal and
external environment that are linked in ways that influence the evolution of
behavior. Every time behaviors are tweaked through hormones there are inten-
tional and unintentional consequences that need to be explored (such as evolu-
tionary costs of behavioral levels). In these areas and more, behavioral
endocrinology will be a fascinating and fruitful area of exploration.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Support was provided by a grant from the National Science Foundation
(NSF IOS 1132419).
Fuxjager, M. J., G. Mast, E. A. Becker, & C. A. Marler. (2009). The “home advan-
tage” is necessary for a full winner effect and changes in post-encounter testos-
terone. Hormones and Behavior, 56, 214–219.
Fuxjager, M. J., J. L. Montgomery, & C. A. Marler. (2011). Species differences in the
winner effect disappear in response to post-victory testosterone manipulations.
Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 278, 3497–3503.
Fuxjager, M. J., T. O. Oyegbile, & C. A. Marler. (2011). Independent and additive
contributions of postvictory testosterone and social experience to the develop-
ment of the winner effect. Endocrinology, 152, 3422–3429.
Garstka, W. R., B. Camazine, & D. Crews. (1982). Interactions of behavior and
physiology during the annual reproductive cycle of the red-sided garter snake
(Thamnophis sirtalis perietalis). Herpetologica, 38, 104–123.
Getz, L. L., B. McGuire, & C. S. Carter. (2003). Social behavior, reproduction and
demography of the prairie vole, Microtus ochrogaster. Ethology, Ecology and
Evolution, 15, 105–118.
Getz, L. L., B. McGuire, T. Pizzuto, J. E. Hofmann, & B. Frase. (1993). Social
organization of the prairie vole (Microtus ochrogaster). Journal of Mammalogy,
74, 44–58.
Gleason, E. D., M. J. Fuxjager, T. O. Oyegbile, & C. A. Marler. (2009). Testoster-
one release and social context: When it occurs and why. Frontiers in
Neuroendocrinology, 30, 460–469.
Gleason, E. D. & C. A. Marler. (2010). Testosterone response to courtship predicts
future paternal behavior in the California mouse, Peromyscus californicus.
Hormones and Behavior, 57, 147–154.
Goodson, J. L. (2005). The vertebrate social behavior network: Evolutionary themes
and variations. Hormones and Behavior, 48, 11–22.
Goodson, J. L., A. K. Evans, & Y. Wang. (2006). Neuropeptide binding reflects con-
vergent and divergent evolution in species-typical group sizes. Hormones and
Behavior, 50, 223–236.
Goodson, J. L., D. Kabelik, A. M. Kelly, J. Rinaldi, & J. D. Klatt. (2009). Midbrain
dopamine neurons reflect affiliation phenotypes in finches and are tightly
coupled to courtship. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA,
106, 8737–8742.
Goodson, J. L., S. E. Schrock, J. D. Klatt, D. Kabelik, & M. A. Kingsbury. (2009).
Mesotocin and nonapeptide receptors promote songbird flocking behavior.
Science, 325, 862–866.
Goodson, J. L. & Y. W. Wang. (2006). Valence-sensitive neurons exhibit divergent
functional profiles in gregarious and asocial species. Proceedings of the National
Academy of Sciences, USA, 103, 17013–17017.
Goymann, W., A. Wittenzellner, I. Schwabl, & M. Makomba. (2008). Progesterone
modulates aggression in sex-role reversed female African black coucals. Proceed-
ings of the Royal Society of London, B, 275, 1053–1060.
HORMONES AND ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 253
Gubernick, D. J. & J. R. Alberts. (1987). The biparental care system of the California
mouse, Peromyscus californicus. Journal of Comparative Psychology, A, 101,
169–177.
Gubernick, D. J. & T. Teferi. (2000). Adaptive significance of male parental care
in a monogamous mammal. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B,
267, 147–150.
Guhl, A. M. (1968). Social inertia and social stability in chickens. Animal Behaviour,
16, 219–232.
Hammock, E. A. D. & L. J. Young. (2002). Variation in the vasopressin V1a receptor
promoter and expression: Implications for inter- and intraspecific variation in
social behaviour. European Journal of Neuroscience, 16, 399–402.
Hammock, E. A. D. & L. J. Young. (2004). Functional microsatellite polymorphism
associated with divergent social structure in vole species. Molecular Biology and
Evolution, 21, 1057–1063.
Hammock, E. A. D. & L. J. Young. (2005). Microsatellite instability generates diver-
sity in brain and sociobehavioral traits. Science, 308, 1630–1634.
Hau, M., S. T. Stoddard, & K. K. Soma. (2004). Territorial aggression and hormones
during the non-breeding season in a tropical bird. Hormones and Behavior, 45,
40–49.
Hirschenhauser, K. & R. F. Oliveira. (2006). Social modulation of androgens in male
vertebrates: Meta-analyses of the challenge hypothesis. Animal Behaviour, 71,
265–277.
Hirschenhauser, K., H. Winkler, & R. F. Oliveira. (2003). Comparative analysis of
male androgen responsiveness to social environment in birds: The effects of
mating system and paternal incubation. Hormones and Behavior, 43, 508–519.
Ho, J. M., J. H. Murray, G. E. Demas, & J. L. Goodson. (2010). Vasopressin cell
groups exhibit strongly divergent responses to copulation and male-male inter-
actions in mice. Hormones and Behavior, 58, 368–377.
Hutchison, J. B. (1970). Differential effects of testosterone and oestradiol on male
courtship in barbary doves (Streptopelia risoria). Animal Behaviour, 18, 41–51.
Hutchison, J. B. & T. Steimer. (1983). Hormone-mediated behavioral transitions: a
role for brain aromatase. In J. Balthazart, E. Prove, & R. Gilles (eds.),
Hormones and Behaviour in Higher Vertebrates (pp. 261–274). Berlin: Springer
Verlag.
Insel, T. R. & T. J. Hulihan. (1995). A gender-specific mechanism for pair bonding:
Oxytocin and partner preference formation in monogamous voles. Behavioral
Neuroscience, 109, 782–789.
Insel, T. R., S. Preston, & J. T. Winslow. (1995). Mating in the monogamous male:
Behavioral consequences. Physiology & Behavior, 57, 615–627.
Insel, T. R. & L. E. Shapiro. (1992). Oxytocin receptor distribution reflects social
organization in monogamous and polygamous voles. Proceedings of the
National Academy of Sciences, USA, 89, 5981–5985.
254 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Lincoln, G. A., F. Guinness, & R. V. Short. (1972). The way in which testosterone
controls the social and sexual behavior of the red deer stag (Cervus elaphus).
Hormones and Behavior, 3, 375–396.
Lindstrom, K. M., D. Krakower, J. O. Lundstrom, & B. Silverin. (2001). The effects
of testosterone on a viral infection in greenfinches (Carduelis chloris): An exper-
imental test of the immunocompetence-handicap hypothesis. Proceedings of the
Royal Society of London, B, 268, 207–211.
Lisk, R. D., L. A. Ciaccio, & C. Catanzaro. (1983). Mating behavior of the golden
hamster under semi-natural conditions. Animal Behaviour, 31, 659–666.
Lisk, R. D. & L. A. Reuter. (1980). Relative contributions of estradiol and progester-
one to the maintenance of sexual receptivity in mated female hamsters. Journal
of Endocrinology, 87, 175–183.
Liu, Y., J. T. Curtis, & Z. X. Wang. (2001). Vasopressin in the lateral septum regu-
lates pair bond formation in male prairie voles (Microtus ochrogaster). Behav-
ioral Neuroscience, 115, 910–919.
Liu, Y. & Z. X. Wang. (2003). Nucleus accumbens oxytocin and dopamine interact
to regulate pair bond formation in female prairie voles. Neuroscience, 121,
537–544.
Lu, S., S. E. McKenna, A. Cologer-Clifford, E. A. Nau, & N. G. Simon. (1998).
Androgen receptor in mouse brain: Sex differences and similarities in autoregu-
lation. Endocrinology, 139, 1594–1601.
Lu, S., N. G. Simon, Y. Wang, & S. Hu. (1999). Neural androgen receptor
regulation: Effects of androgen and antiandrogen. Journal of Neurobiology,
41, 505–512.
Lynn, S. E. (2008). Behavioral insensitivity to testosterone: Why and how does testos-
terone alter paternal and aggressive behavior in some avian species but not
others? General and Comparative Endocrinology, 157, 233–240.
Madison, D. M. (1980). Space use and social structure in meadow voles, Microtus
pennsylvanicus. Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 7, 65–71.
Madison, D. M., R. W. Fitzgerald, & W. J. Mcshea. (1984). Dynamics of social nest-
ing in overwintering meadow voles (Microtus pennsylvanicus): Possible conse-
quences for population cycling. Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 15, 9–17.
Mangiamele, L. A. & R. R. Thompson. (2012). Testosterone rapidly increases
ejaculate volume and sperm density in competitively breeding goldfish through
an estrogenic membrane receptor mechanism. Hormones and Behavior, 62,
107–112.
Marler, C. A., J. K. Bester-Meredith, & B. C. Trainor. (2003). Paternal behavior and
aggression: Endocrine mechanisms and nongenomic transmission of behavior.
Advances in the Study of Behavior, 32, 263–323.
Marler, C. A. & M. C. Moore. (1988). Evolutionary costs of aggression revealed by
testosterone manipulations in free-living male lizards. Behavioral Ecology and
Sociobiology, 23, 21–26.
256 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
INTRODUCTION
The tendency to succumb to the seduction of dichotomies in lieu of grappling
with the reality of complexity is human. This is best seen in the nature/nurture
debate that dates at least to the ancient Greeks and is reprised every generation
in science under various guises (e.g., innate versus acquired, instinct versus
learned). And with every generation there is a refutation of this false
dichotomy as being sterile, yielding no useful offspring in our knowledge base
(e.g., Lehrman, 1970; Gottleib, 2002; Bateson & Gluckman, 2011). This
seemingly endless rediscovery is perhaps a good thing as it forces scientists to
develop new ways of investigating and illustrating that nothing in biology
and psychology is simple. In many ways, the rediscovery of epigenetics
refreshes the debate and, perhaps for the first time, offers a solution.
Put simply, epigenetics refers to traits that are not determined by traditional
molecular bases for inheritance. A more precise definition would be that epige-
netic effects are changes in the phenotype and/or specific traits that result from
the environmental modification of the molecular factors and processes around
DNA that regulate genome activity yet are independent of the DNA sequence.
Note that the term environment is inclusive of all stimuli that may impinge on
the organism during its life cycle. How researchers have interpreted epige-
netics reflects its dual origins and the nature of the question being posed. At
a basic level it is useful to differentiate molecular epigenetics and molar epi-
genetics, or bottom-up versus top-down epigenetics. The former perspective
264 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
has emerged within the last 25 years from modern genetics and molecular
biology and focuses on molecular levels of analysis. The latter perspective has
a deeper history, preceding the rediscovery of Mendel’s studies, and focuses
on questions of evolution and adaptive significance as evident in psychobiol-
ogy and evolutionary biology. Thus, the object of study in molecular epige-
netics is transcriptional and translational control during embryonic
development, while in molar epigenetics it is the individual’s interactions with
its biotic and physical environment through time. More will be said about this
distinction later.
Another distinction that must be made is that between environmentally
induced epigenetic modifications and parental genomic imprinting, forms
of epigenetic marks that are carried in the male and female germlines. Parental
genomic imprints refer to genes that are expressed in a parent-of-origin fash-
ion, that is, from the mother (maternal imprint) or from the father (paternal
imprint). Both environmentally induced epigenetic modifications and paren-
tal genomic imprinting involve methylation and histone modifications, but
genomic imprints are sex specific, although most of these epigenetic control
regions are matrilineal. Regardless of the parental origin, the imprinted gene is
expressed or silenced in the same way in both male and female offspring. Some
imprints are tissue specific but always show monoallelic expression (only one
allele of a gene is actively transcribed). At this stage there is no evidence that
the imprint is individually specific or that each father (or mother) has an individ-
ual “signature,” but this is due more to the species studied to date (e.g., inbred
laboratory rodents) than demonstrated as a general principle. It is known that if
strains are crossed the imprint changes, but as yet there is no information on nat-
urally occurring species and whether it is possible that the imprint may vary
depending upon the population or perhaps lineage. This is a particularly impor-
tant question in light of the role of sexual selection in the evolution of traits in
outbred (versus inbred) species. For example, if male A mates with two females
(E and G), would the paternal imprint of the offspring of the litters (or singleton) pro-
duced from those matings be different or the same? The converse question would
apply to a female that produces two litters by different males (let us further
assume that each litter has but one father of all the young in the litter rather than
being a result of multiple paternity). Is her maternal imprint identical in the respec-
tive litters? While DNA methylation is clearly involved in genomic imprinting,
the signal for the imprint is not yet known.
This chapter will not deal with genomic imprinting further as there are
excellent reviews relating genomic imprinting to brain and behavior available
(e.g., Keverne & Curley, 2008; Keverne, 2009). Instead, I will focus herein-
after entirely on environmentally induced epigenetic modifications.
EPIGENETICS AND ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 265
(1909), whose early work on Daphnia, an organism that can reproduce asex-
ually by cloning, demonstrated that genetically identical individuals would
develop very different morphs depending upon their environment.
Molecular Epigenetics
Prior to the 1940s, the gene as the unit of heritable material was a theoreti-
cal concept without a physical identity. In 1942 Conrad Waddington pro-
posed the term epigenetics as a conceptual model of how genes might interact
with their environment and give rise to the phenotype (Waddington, 1942).
It is in this sense that the term epigenetics is commonly used in molecular
and developmental genetics today, namely, “the study of the mechanisms of
temporal and spatial control of gene activity during the development of com-
plex organisms” (Holliday, 1990, p. 329). This relatively recent area of
research focuses on processes such as DNA methylation (addition of a methyl
group at specific positions on two of the four DNA bases) and histone modi-
fications (changes to the proteins that package DNA) that are heritable in
the short term but do not change the DNA or create mutations. Because arti-
ficial manipulation of methylation patterns is often lethal, or at the least results
in maladaptive traits or monsters, this method of research illuminates normal
development by creating abnormalities or anomalies. It also helps us to under-
stand the processes that occur when environmental factors affect methylation
of DNA during the normal development of organisms.
Waddington continues to dominate the way we think of epigenetics, and
his image of an epigenetic landscape as an emergent process is the defining
concept of how epigenetics operates. His structural depiction envisions how
the environment shapes phenotypic outcomes and also the importance of tim-
ing as well of genes and environment. Although Waddington’s formulation
conveys the idea that development is irreversible and results in discrete out-
comes rather than continuous outcomes, these aspects have now been refuted.
Attendant concepts advocated by Waddington (1942) were canalization
and genetic assimilation. Canalization connotes the differentiation of the
gene, cell type, and embryo as development progresses and pathways becomes
more entrenched, thereby making it harder for the canalized development to
be dislodged and moved into another pathway. The concept of genetic assimi-
lation emerged in part from his work with Drosophila. Waddington speculated
that environmentally induced changes in phenotype could become incorpo-
rated into the genome, as evidenced by the persistence of the phenotype even
after the original selection pressure is relaxed. It is in this manner that natural
selection acts on developmental pathways leading to adaptive change in the
genome rather than relying on genetic mutation. This dynamic view of
EPIGENETICS AND ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 267
Molar Epigenetics
There are two types of molar epigenetics. The first arose from early evolu-
tionists who asked how different phenotypes within a species were shaped by
different environments. This area of study fell out of favor for about 60 to
70 years in European and American science. Interestingly, it continued as a
major field of study in Russia and was represented in small part in this country
in the work of Theodosius Dobzhansky and his students, most notably
Richard C. Lewontin (2000). Today, it has reemerged as a vigorous area of
research among evolutionary biologists and behavioral ecologists. New
research on the origins of polymorphisms (multiple phenotypes in a single spe-
cies) and polyphenisms (multiple phenotypes from a single genotype) has led
to a concept now commonly referred to as phenotypic plasticity, which is
considered one of the driving forces in the relatively new union of develop-
mental biologists with evolutionary biologists (evo-devo).
The other type of molar epigenetics has an equally old history. In psychol-
ogy there has long been an interest in behavioral development or behavioral
organization. Zing-Yang Kuo, who worked principally in the 1920s and
1930s, created much of the theory. Unfortunately, Kuo returned to China
where the political strife interrupted research, and as a consequence his contri-
butions were marginalized (Kuo, 1967; Greenberg, 2000). The other major
figure in the field was Karl S. Lashley and his students, most notable for the
purposes of this review Frank A. Beach (regarded as one of the founders of
neuroendocrinology) and Theodore C. Schneirla (whose approach to the
development and display of species-typical behaviors focused on the interac-
tion of the genetic and the environmental levels of biological organization).
Examples of this integrative approach are now numerous, but two classic
efforts were those of Daniel S. Lehrman and Jay S. Rosenblatt. Lehrman con-
ducted elegant work on the elaborate interaction of parent and offspring that
results in ring doves (Streptopelia risoria) learning to care for their young, and
Rosenblatt carried out exquisite research on the physiological and behavioral
events that underlie the development of maternal behavior in cats and later
rats. Both were students of Schneirla and emphasized the dynamic nature of
a process that involves the interaction of the internal milieu and the organism
and the interaction of the organism and its environment. Moreover, they
defined the environment broadly to include the behavior and physiology of
socially important species members. In so doing they laid the foundation for
psychobiology, a vibrant field that focuses on how experiences accumulate
268 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
throughout life to shape the way in which the individual interacts with its
social and physical environment (Gottleib, 2002).
It is not my purpose to venture into the relatively unexplored frontier that
lies in uniting the two subdisciplines of molar epigenetics (namely that of evo-
lutionary and developmental biology and psychobiology) and behavioral
neuroendocrinology. However, it is useful to be reminded of Ernst Mayr’s
constant refrain that behavior is at the leading edge of evolution and the obser-
vation of Michel and Moore (1995, p. 178) that “mechanisms that underlie
much of behavioral evolution may reside in the processes studied by develop-
mental psychobiologists.”
However, it is necessary to emphasize before going further that the individ-
ual is the unit of selection and that an approach that integrates both molecular
and molar epigenetics will be necessary to reveal the mechanisms that underlie
behavioral evolution (Bateson & Gluckman, 2011). That is, the continuity
between molecular and molar epigenetics is revealed as the constituent ele-
ments interact both positively and negatively in a temporal, spatial, and condi-
tional (internal as well as in the social and physical environments) context
(Nijhout, 2004). As adaptive responses emerge, they, in turn, set the stage
for future variation. Thus, evolution is a tandem process involving first devel-
opment, with its built-in flexible responsiveness to both gene products and
environment, followed by selection, which dictates which variants are spread
and maintained (Stearns, 1989; Lewontin, 2000; West-Eberhard, 2003). In
this sense the “genome learns from its experience” (Jaenisch & Bird, 2003).
Obviously, suites of genes underlie the fundamental plasticity of an organism,
particularly during development or life-stage transitions. How do these gene net-
works interact with the experiences that accumulate during an individual’s life his-
tory? An important interface between the environment (either internal or
external) and the genotype is that of epigenetic modifications. Exactly how these
modifications come about is still relatively unknown, but recent studies at both
the molecular and molar levels indicate that the origin of such effects may occur
in previous generations. That is, experiences of earlier generations can modify
regulatory factors affecting gene expression such that the DNA sequence itself
is not changed but the individual’s physiology and behavior are substantially
influenced. Understanding how such modifications actually occur will increase
our understanding of how the environment influences the relationship between
genotype and behavior during sensitive developmental periods.
Before reviewing this literature, it is important to distinguish between
mitotic versus meiotic epigenetic modifications, or what I have termed
context-dependent versus germline-dependent epigenetic modifications
(Crews, 2008, 2010).
EPIGENETICS AND ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 269
depends upon the pup’s experience in the first week of life. Recently this
group has documented that being reared by a high-quality mother results in
the expression of the transcription factor A (NGFI-A), a nerve growth fac-
tor–inducible protein, that binds to the first exon of the GR gene, resulting
in increased expression of GR. High-quality maternal care during this critical
period demethylates NGFI-A and the acetylation of histones. Just as cross-
fostering can reverse these molecular and behavioral changes, infusion of
methionine, a histone deacetylase inhibitor, into the hippocampus can also
reverse these events. It is important to point out, however, that the effect of
high- and low-quality mothering cannot be selected for and eventually disap-
pears after five generations. That is, it is neither possible to selectively breed
for quality of maternal behavior or to pass the effect nongenomically
indefinitely.
Transgenerational Inheritance
The defining distinction between context- and germline-dependent
epigenetic modifications lies in the timing and persistence of the exposure.
Exposure to environmental or psychological stressors will bring about change
in the epigenome, but the transmission of the effects of that exposure can
occur in two basic ways. Context-dependent epigenetic modifications are in
direct response to the stimulus. Thus, an endocrine disruptor in the environ-
ment will induce changes in all individuals that are exposed to it and, as long
as the environment stays contaminated, further generations will also exhibit
EPIGENETICS AND ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 271
for study. Moreover, the investigator should always keep in mind that, com-
pared with the original population, these individuals are only the ones that have
managed to survive, and that the experiences they may have encountered as they
grew are often lost to us. Also, many of the molecular tools that are routine to
those working with rats and mice are not readily applied to the unconventional
animals. Thus, those interested in the development of behavior, particularly
how events early in life influence later behavior or how the epigenetic changes
that occur from particular experiences may alter future behavior, may find it nec-
essary to use conventional animal models. These animals have been stripped of
their ecologically relevant traits, are well studied, and have been the template
on which molecular tools were forged. Again the investigator must keep in mind
the limitations of the animal. In general, model systems are analogous to a drag-
ster. Basically, in drag racing the machine is an engine on a chassis guided by a
driver, with the goal of getting to the quarter-mile mark as fast as possible. This
is no different from an inbred strain of rodent, bird, amphibian, fly, nematode,
or other organism in that inbred strains have maximized fitness (reproduction
and growth rate) in an artificial and basically barren environment. That is, the
conventional animal model organism is basically a gonad guided by a brain, with
the “goal” of reproducing as fast as possible. In both the model organism and the
dragster, there are no “bells and whistles” that may be demanded by the average
customer, or in the case of a C57 mouse, a day in the life in the wild.
Next comes the question of what phenotype to study. A phenotype consists
of multiple traits; each trait is defined as any measurable aspect of the individ-
ual. In general, our understanding of a particular phenotype increases propor-
tionally with the number of traits that are measured in the same individual.
Selection of the particular morphological, physiological, behavioral, and brain
nucleus traits should be predicated on the literature and demonstrated to be
important to the question at hand. The same principle applies to genes in that
individual genes only have meaning in the context of other genes within and
outside their functional categories.
brain area is a measure of the metabolic capacity of that brain region over time.
In other words, CO abundance not only reflects the metabolic history of an
area but, because it determines the amount of ATP available in a neuron, it
constrains the amount of activity a neuron can sustain (Sakata et al., 2005).
It differs from other types of brain activity measures such as 2-deoxyglucose,
immediate early gene expression, magnetic resonance imaging, and so forth
in that it does not assess the current activity of the brain area so much as its
past history of activation.
As in other vertebrates, the septum (SEP), ventromedial hypothalamus
(VMH), anterior hypothalamus (AH), nucleus sphericus (SA) (homolog of
mammalian medial amygdala), preoptic area (POA), and periventricular pre-
optic area (PP) are major integrative areas for hormonal effects on sexual and
agonistic behavior in the leopard gecko. Incubation temperature influences
the metabolic capacity of forebrain nuclei in adult leopard geckos, and, fur-
ther, these differences correlate with the differences exhibited in their sexual
and agonistic behaviors as adults. Sexual experience also influences the organi-
zation of the neural circuits underlying social and sexual behavior. As illus-
trated in Figure 8.1, the functional landscape changes significantly according
to incubation temperature of the embryo but not so much according to the
sexual experience of the individual in adulthood. That is, if one examines the
effect of incubation temperature (comparison within columns), both inexperi-
enced and experienced Tm females show greater activity in the AH, NS, and
SEP (but not in the POA, VMH, or PP, which are unchanged). The POA
and AH particular nuclei are centrally involved in maturation of the
hypothalamus-pituitary-gonadal axis and the NS and SEP in the maturation
of the hypothalamus-pituitary-adrenal axis. A different picture emerges when
comparing inexperienced and experienced females from within each incuba-
tion temperature (comparison within rows). In this instance adult sexual expe-
rience modifies the effect of embryonic incubation temperature in the POA in
the all-female incubation temperature and in the POA and VMH in Tm
females, but to a lesser degree (note difference in scale). This suggests that in
the leopard gecko incubation temperature has a more profound effect on brain
organization than does adult sexual experience.
very aggressive (Ogawa et al., 1998). However, this occurs only if ,KO are
raised in litters containing other ,KO; if raised with ,WT or <WT they fail
to show aggressive behavior and are comparable to ,WT mice in social contact
time. Indeed, litter composition influences the development of sociosexual
behaviors in ERKO mice of both sexes. Extending this work to the brain,
I examined the pattern of metabolic activity in various brain nuclei of the mice
raised in these controlled litter groups (Crews et al., 2009).
It is of interest that WT females raised in same-sex, same-genotype groups
spend significantly more time in social contact in a resident-intruder test com-
pared to KO females raised in same-sex, same-genotype groups (Figure 8.2).
Further, it appears that female WT siblings are able to compensate for this
deficit, just as KO siblings cause a deficit in WT females. The neural network
Figure 8.2. Social contact time in genetically modified mice raised in reconstituted litters
arising from mating of mice heterozygous for a null mutation of the estrogen receptor a
gene. Litters consisted of equal numbers of wild-type (WT) or knockout (KO) female (F)
or male (M) mice. Shown are results of individuals raised in single-sex, single-genotype
litters (FW/FW and FK/FK); single-sex, mixed-genotype litters (FW/FK and FK/FW);
mixed-sex, single-genotype litters (FW/MW); and mixed-sex, mixed-genotype litters
(FK/MW); The tested animals were the sex and genotype of the first symbol (e.g., a
female WT individual raised in the single-sex, mixed-genotype litter (FK/FW). Signifi-
cant differences occurred between FW/FW and FK/FW, FW/- and FK/FK, and FK/FK
and FK/MW.
278 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
that underlies sociosexual behavior varies in different ways. The relative effects
of sex independent of genotype, and of genotype independent of sex, on the
neural network are striking (Figure 8.3). Taken together these findings indi-
cate that in studies with genetically modified mice, litter composition during
the preweaning period must be considered because it can affect the develop-
ment of behavior and the neural network responsible for the regulation of
emotional behaviors.
Figure 8.3. Effect of genotype of sisters on the metabolic activity in a social behavior
network in female wild-type (WT) and estrogen receptor α knockout (KO) mice.
Groups are presented according to the type of sibling with which the WT (top row) or
KO female (middle row) was raised, with ,KO or ,WT sisters, respectively. The
limbic functional landscape map on the upper right represents the difference in ,WT
raised with a ,KO sister. Below that is the complement, that is, the effect of a WT
sister on the metabolic activity in ,KO females. The bottom row indicates genotype
differences between ,WT and ,KO females raised in same-sex, same-genotype litters.
The far right column shows the effect of having a sister having the opposite genotype.
The nuclei are presented in a clockwise fashion reflecting a rostral-caudal dimension:
main bed nucleus of the stria terminalis (BNSTma); anteroventral periventricular
nucleus (AVPe); medial preoptic area (MPOA); anterior hypothalamus, anterior
(AHA); medial amygdaloid nucleus, posterodorsal (MeAPD); medial amygdaloid
nucleus, posteroventral (MeAPV); and ventromedial hypothalamic nucleus, ventro-
lateral (VMHVL).
EPIGENETICS AND ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 279
Figure 8.4. Female rats whose great-grandmothers were exposed to the EDC vinclozo-
lin, a commonly used fungicide with endocrine-disrupting properties, and hence were
epigenetically altered, prefer males from the unexposed vehicle lineage (right panel).
Males do not show this preference (left panel). Both females and males from control
and EDC lineages were tested with pairs of vehicle- and EDC-lineage stimulus part-
ners. Presented are the mean (þ1 standard error) differences in the time spent in each
behavior. Right panel: behaviors exhibited by females from vehicle and EDC lineages
towards males from vehicle lineage (positive, right side) and EDC lineage (negative,
left side). Left panel: behaviors exhibited by males from vehicle and EDC lineages
towards females from vehicle lineage (positive, right side) and EDC lineage (negative,
left side). Data from Crews and colleagues (2007).
and medial prefrontal cortex (mPFC) and decreased neurogenesis in the den-
tate gyrus. In addition to these structural changes, stressed rats exhibit a variety
of specific cognitive deficits in spatial learning and memory, as well as
increased anxiety-like and agonistic behavior.
The effects of stress, however, appear to vary depending upon the sex of in
the individual and when the stress occur (Shors, 2006; Romeo et al., 2009).
For the purposes of this chapter, I will only consider the literature on male
rats, as that is the epigenetic model best studied. In male rats the effects of
chronic stress early in development tend to be irreversible, resulting in perma-
nent structural changes in the hippocampus and altered adult sociosexual and
anxiety-related behaviors, while those experienced as an adult can be reversed.
If the stress occurs during the peripubertal-juvenile transition, the effects are
similar to early effects, if not exaggerated. In rats, CRS influences serotonin
and dopamine activity in CA3 of the hippocampus, dopamine and its metab-
olites in CA1 of the hippocampus as well as the mPFC, and dopamine and its
metabolites in the basolateral amygdala.
Table 8.1. Summary of data obtained at three different levels of biological organization
in pilot experiment on the interaction of transgenerational epigenetic modifications three
generations removed and exposure of chronic restraint stress during adolescence on adult
behavior of male rats. VL ¼ vinclozolin lineage; CL ¼ control lineage; S (stress) ¼
restraint stress during adolescence; NS ¼ nonstress; L × S Interaction ¼ interaction
between ancestral and proximate exposures; Yes ¼ an interaction exists; No ¼ no inter-
action exists. Symbols: – ¼ no effect; > ¼ greater in one group compared to the other;
þþ ¼ statistically significant difference; – ¼ no statistically significant effects.
Trait Lineage Stress L × S interation
Forced Swim – – –
Open Field þþ (CL) þþ (VL CL) Yes
Sociability 1 – trend (VL) NS
Sociability 2 þþ (VL) þþ (VL) Yes
Nucleus Lineage Stress L × S interaction
of stress condition. The medial posterior dorsal amygdala (MePD) shows opposite
effects following CRS (pronounced increase in CL and decrease in VL males). In
the medial amygdala (MeAmy), CO activity is opposite in the lineages depending
upon stress. We also see that the stria terminalis (ST), and not the bed nucleus of
the stria terminalis (BnST), shows marked changes, indicating that activity in this
major pathway is being modified by lineage. In the CA1 and CA3 of the hippo-
campus, stress decreases metabolic activity in the VL males but has no effect in
CL males.
Thus, the alteration of baseline brain development brought about by trans-
generational epigenetic modification promotes a change in neural genomic
activity that correlates with changes in physiology and behavior, revealing
the interaction of genetics, environmental epigenetics, and epigenetic transge-
nerational inheritance in shaping the adult phenotype. This is the first empiri-
cal evidence in an animal that ancestral exposure to a known EDC modifies
how descendants of these progenitor individuals perceive and respond to a
stress challenge experienced during their own life history.
SUMMARY
We are at the very beginning of studies of the epigenetics of behavior.
Behavioral phenotypes are affected by multiple factors, some beginning in
generations past and others originating during sensitive periods or life stages.
We now know that genes do not cause behavior, and there is little evidence
that, outside of disease and pathology, genotypes predispose individuals to
behave in particular ways. Understanding the development of behavior has
yielded more information on the causes of behavior. For example, different
experiences during sensitive life stages produce variation among individuals
that markedly influence how the individual responds to social and sexual cues
later in adulthood. This variation is the substrate on which evolution can act.
EPIGENETICS AND ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 285
Crews, D., T. Fuller, E. G. Mirasol, D. W. Pfaff, & S. Ogawa. (2004). Postnatal envi-
ronment affects behavior in adult transgenic mice. Experimental Biology and
Medicine, 229, 935–939.
Crews, D., R. Gillette, S. V. Scarpino, M. Manikkam, M. I. Savenkova, & M. K.
Skinner. (2012). Epigenetic transgenerational alterations to stress response in
brain gene networks and behavior. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sci-
ences, USA, 109, 9143–9148.
Crews, D., A. C. Gore, T. S. Hsu, N. L. Dangleben, M. Spinetta, T. Schallert, M. D.
Anway, & M. K. Skinner. (2007). Transgenerational epigenetic imprints on mate
preference. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 104, 5942−5946.
Crews, D. & J. A. McLachlan. (2006). Epigenetics, evolution, endocrine disruptors,
health and disease. Endocrinology, 147, (Suppl.), S4–S10.
Crews, D. & J. A. Moore. (1986). Evolution of mechanisms controlling mating
behavior. Science, 103, 121–125.
Crews, D., D. Rushworth, F. Gonzalez-Lima, & S. Ogawa. (2009). Litter environ-
ment affects agonistic behavior and brain metabolic activity of adult estrogen
receptor α knockout mice. Frontiers in Behavioral Neuroscience, 3, 12.
Dolinoy, D. C. (2008). The agouti mouse model: An epigenetic biosensor for nutri-
tional and environmental alterations on the fetal epigenome. Nutritional
Reviews, 66 (Suppl 1), S7–11.
Faulk, C. & D. C. Dolinoy. (2011). Timing is everything: The when and how of environ-
mentally induced changes in the epigenome of animals. Epigenetics, 6, 791–797.
Gilbert S. F. & D. Epel. (2008). Ecological Developmental Biology: Integrating Epige-
netics, Medicine, and Evolution. Sunderland, MA: Sinauer Associates.
Gottlieb, G. (2002). Individual Development and Evolution: The Genesis of Novel
Behavior. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
Greenberg, G. (2000). Lessons from Zing-Yang Kuo. Past to Future, 2, 13–37.
Hertwig, O. (1894). Präformation oder Epigenese? Grundzüge einer Entwicklungstheorie
der Organismen. Jena, GER: G. Fischer.
Holliday, R. (1990). DNA methylation and epigenetic inheritance. Philosophical
Transactions Royal Society of London, B, 326, 329–338.
Jaenisch, R. & B. Bird. (2003). Epigenetic regulation of gene expression: How the
genome integrates intrinsic and environmental signals. Nature Genetics, 33,
245–254.
Jessen, H. M. & A. P. Auger. (2011). Sex differences in epigenetic mechanisms may
underlie risk and resilience for mental health disorders. Epigenetics, 6, 857–861.
Kappeler, L. & M. J. Meaney. (2010). Epigenetics and parental effects. BioEssays, 32,
818–827.
Keverne, E. B. (2009). Monoallelic gene expression and mammalian evolution.
BioEssays, 31, 1318–1326.
Keverne, E. B. & J, P. Curley. (2008). Epigenetics, brain evolution and behaviour.
Frontiers in Neuroendocrinology. 29, 398–412.
Kuo, Z.-Y. (1967). The Dynamics of Behavior Development. New York: Random
House Press.
EPIGENETICS AND ANIMAL BEHAVIOR 287
INTRODUCTION
Our goal is for this chapter to alter the way you look at life. More specifically,
we think we can open your eyes to new, interesting, and important ways to
see, to understand, and to appreciate development. Recognition that develop-
ment is an important part of the scientific study of animal behavior has a very
respectable history (Chapter 2). Niko Tinbergen, one of three ethologists rec-
ognized with a Nobel Prize in 1973, said that in order to understand fully an
animal’s behavior, it was essential to understand how it develops (Tinbergen,
1963). Tinbergen saw development as one of the four basic aims of a science
of ethology or animal behavior (Box 9.1). We agree with Tinbergen that
development is an essential component in a biological understanding of
behavior. In fact, we think that understanding development not only addresses
many important aspects of behavior but links the other components of a com-
plete analysis of behavior.
Box 9.1
Tinbergen’s four questions
(Chapter 12), hunting and feeding strategies (Volume 2, Chapter 1), courtship
and reproductive patterns (Volume 2, Chapter 6), and many other such phe-
nomena. When we learn about such stunning examples and then think about
the study of development, it is natural to conclude that the study of develop-
ment, or ontogeny, is the study of how an infant becomes the adult form
that is capable of such stunning feats of behavioral life. John Tyler
Bonner (1958, p.1) bluntly expressed this viewpoint when he stated, “the goal
of development is the final form and function of the adult.” This is a view that
emphasizes development as a process of “becoming.” There is a focus on an end-
point—reproduction, territorial defense, nest building—and development is the
process that prepares the offspring to achieve the endpoint. Viewed this way, the
developmental process includes growth—with increasing strength, expanded and
improved sensory function, and acquisition of motor patterns including complex
behavioral displays and signaling. Special body features and coloration also
develop, often as part of sexual maturation or with the attainment of dominance
status, and these physical features are often used in behavioral displays. The view
of development as the process of becoming is popular, and it is very likely that
this is basically the way that you look at development.
BEHAVIORAL DEVELOPMENT AND ONTOGENETIC ADAPTATION 291
Yet there are other, contrasting views of development. One of the alterna-
tives is to see development as a series of ways of “being.” In this framework,
the characteristics of the newborn are seen as being complete and well
formed—for the newborn. The infant is recognized in terms of what it is at
the time rather than in terms of what it is not (an adult, for example). As the
infant grows and changes, it is seen similarly as a well-formed youngster
(pup, cub, fledgling, etc., depending on the species) rather than as an incom-
plete or unfinished version of the adult. It is important to recognize that a state
of being well formed and complete can only make sense in relation to a con-
text. A feature of an animal is not good, complete, or functional in its own
right—its qualities can only be judged in relation to its immediate setting. In
this way, the simple grasp reflex of an infant primate can be seen as a behavior
that ensures a strong, reliable grip on the parent’s fur or hair while it is being
carried, even during vigorous movements by the parent. The term reflex often
implies a primitive behavior or a stray element of a more complex, voluntary
behavior that is yet to form. But when we consider development as a series
of ways of being, the same reflexive behavior can be seen in another light—
one of functional integrity in relation to a particular, immediate environment.
Because being and becoming are two contrasting ways of defining develop-
ment, should we consider which is the “proper” or “correct” definition? How do
we choose one versus the other? The answer is not to choose! Being and becoming
are both valid ways of viewing development because the developing animal is,
at the same time, both being and becoming. In the words of a notable develop-
mental physiologist, every developing animal has a “dual vocation” (Adolph,
1968). Every infant is, at the same time, in the business of being a functional,
successful, adapted infant—as well as growing and changing into an adult.
The challenge is for us to see and to appreciate how both of these roles are
accomplished. In this chapter, we will focus on the less familiar and more spe-
cialized perspective of development as a sequence of states of being, for this is
the one that connects most richly to the field of animal behavior. The concept
of ontogenetic adaptation will be the vehicle that will carry us on a journey
through various general considerations and specific examples of development
as a sequence of states of being.
the same one we see in genesis, denoting “modes of formation or generation.” Put
them together (onto + geny) and you have modes of generating a state of being:
development. Admit it, it is an important and lovely word.
Adaptation
The word adaptation comes from the Greek root aptus, “to fit.” To that
root is added the prefix ad-, meaning “toward,” so adaptation denotes a thing
or condition involving some kind of fit, fitness, or fitting. This is true enough,
but the usage of the term adaptation is remarkably important and diverse. The
diversity of usage the word adaptation has been troublesome, as have the
various criteria for what qualifies as an adaptation within the framework of a
particular definition.
Let us consider the different uses of the term adaptation. You will see that
they all have something in common, which is that they recognize the fit or fit-
ness of something or, in some cases, the identification of a specific, immediate
functional role in an animal’s life. Such immediate roles are often called proxi-
mate functions. Other important uses of the term adaptation apply to the evo-
lutionary history of a trait and its functions for survival and reproduction.
Such historical processes and functions that affect the shaping and mainte-
nance of species are often call ultimate functions.
As we noted earlier, the field of animal behavior involves recognition of
many marvelous and diverse phenomena displayed by animals in the natural
world. But, as a science, animal behavior is more than a collection of wonder-
ful animal stories. What elevates animal behavior from a collection of anec-
dotes and makes it into a complete and coherent life science is evolutionary
theory. Evolution unites all of the life sciences, from biochemistry to ecology.
It is far beyond the scope of this chapter to review evolutionary theory in rela-
tion to animal behavior, but we can take a key element of evolutionary think-
ing and discuss it here. The concept of adaptation gets to the heart of the
matter. If we establish a common basis for using the term adaptation, we will
be able to appreciate within an evolutionary context an extraordinary range
of phenomena and see connections among them that will help make more
sense out of the extraordinary complexity of the natural world.
Box 9.2
Uses of the term adaptation
There are a variety of uses of the crucially important term adaptation that
are pertinent to biological and behavioral analyses. The meanings can vary
considerably, and there is some overlap among them. Although they differ
in meaning, each is a legitimate and correct meaning. Thus, it is always
important to keep in mind the different uses and define clearly which kind
of meaning is intended when using the term.
1. Relation between the organism and its environment. Adaptation can be used to
describe the overall relation between an organism and its environment. This
is its most general usage and may point the way to further, more focused
analyses of adaptation.
After looking a picture of a tadpole, such as the one in Figure 9.2, it is rea-
sonable to say, “the shape its body, the gills and fins indicate that tadpoles
are adapted to an aquatic environment.”
2. A feature of an organism that serves some proximate end. A popular use of
adaptation is to identify some behavioral, physiological, or anatomical fea-
ture of an organism that provides an obvious, functional benefit—often
one that can be recognized or inferred by direct observation.
After observing some of the animals in Figure 9.4, we might well state that
“the sharp canine teeth of the lion are adaptations to piercing and tearing the
flesh of prey” and “the whale’s pectoral fins, the membranous wings of the fruit
bat, and the articulated limbs of the primate are all adaptations serving locomo-
tion in the species-typical habitats of each of these mammals.”
294 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
3. The process of adapting within the individual’s lifetime. Part of this usage is
distinct because it explicitly refers to a process that changes within the life-
time of an individual, independent of any necessary genetic change. Because
it implies a change in an animal’s body—including changes in the brain that
mediate learning—this type of adaptation is also called somatic adaptation.
Somatic adaptations include processes such as developing a thicker coat of
fur and layers of fat insulation during winter months, adjusting levels of
digestive enzymes in response to changes in diet, and increasing vigilance
when signs of nearby predators are detected.
The ability to adapt somatically is an adaptation of the type denoted in
usage 2.
4. A historical process spanning multiple generations that alters a population’s char-
acteristics, usually implying a genomic change. This use of adaptation refers to
the process by which adaptive features (usage 2) are obtained.
Beginning in the Cretaceous period, there began a diversification of mam-
malian forms, including an explosion of rodent species, displaying adapta-
tions to a wide range of habitats.
development can take many forms and many directions because, as with the
process of biological evolution, there is no single path or final goal.
With so many new and different ideas, it may be difficult for you to judge
them when they are presented in relatively pure form rather than as part of
some specific examples. Looking forward to the next sections, we will describe
three distinct forms of developmental process prevalent in the natural world.
They do not comprise a complete sample, but they are a good start. As you
will see, we illustrate the form of development called metamorphosis by
describing the style of development used by many amphibians, such as frogs.
We then describe two more developmental styles, one shared by all mammals
and another used by birds. Your job, in each case, is to see how an animal’s
body and behavior at each stage of development is in adaptive relations with
the environment that is typical for each stage.
Figure 9.1. The morphology of a tadpole indicates that this is an organism that earns
its living in an aquatic habitat. Before it gives up herbivory and shifts to terrestrial
life as a frog, it will reduce the size of its swimming muscles, vascularize for respiration
the skin that serves as its fin, shrink its coiled gut, grow and differentiate the miniscule
hindlimb that is visible on the lateral surface, and remove the operculum over the gills
to expose a growing forelimb. Clearly, the tadpole is more than an incomplete frog.
a female and clasping her body with his forelegs, positioning himself to fertilize
her eggs soon after they leave her body.
In some species, the female frog lays her eggs in a sticky mass that she
attaches to rocks or vegetation under water. In other species, the eggs are laid
and fertilized on the leaves of plants that hang over water so that when the tad-
poles hatch, they immediately fall into an aqueous habitat, which becomes
their next niche in a species-typical sequence.
The amphibian egg itself is a niche, and the embryo must earn its living in
the egg, for this is its early environment in which its brain, gut, sensory sys-
tems, and tadpole body take shape. Indeed, behavior begins in the amphibian
egg, as it does in the avian egg and in the mammalian uterus.
Looking again at Figure 9.1 it should be immediately obvious that the
organism that hatches from a frog egg is adapted to an aquatic lifestyle, as evi-
denced by its proportionately large fin-like tail, gills, and legless body. The
notes with the figure provide an indication of the total drama of metamorpho-
sis. The changes are conspicuous, indeed. Through growth, deletion, and
other processes of remodeling, the tadpole is transformed, inside and out, into
an organism adapted to a more terrestrial life, which earns its living in an
entirely different manner. In fact, there is great diversity among frog species.
We have described their reproduction and development in very general terms
and, for the record, we note that there are some frog species that never become
tadpoles. Such species undergo direct development. From the eggs of such
species hatch tiny frogs—they do not produce tadpoles. These frogs have
abandoned metamorphosis! Direct development is a derived strategy; all direct
developers evolved from predecessors that used metamorphosis (e.g., Elinson,
2001).
BEHAVIORAL DEVELOPMENT AND ONTOGENETIC ADAPTATION 299
Figure 9.2. All of the animals shown here are mammals, but they live dramatically dif-
ferent lives. The spider monkeys (Ateles sp.) shown in the upper left are largely arbo-
real, whereas the lion (Panthera leo) is terrestial. The big brown bat (Epesticus fuscus),
on the upper right, flies and roosts for a living, as do all the other bats, whereas the
dolphin (Grampus grisieus) in the lower left represents the various aquatic mammals.
Moles, such as the Talipidae sp. shown on the lower right, earn a living underground.
300 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
habitats across North, Central, and northern South America and the Carib-
bean. The entire order of Chiroptera (the bats) occupies a niche above the
ground, roosting in trees, caves, and attics, often in giant colonies consisting
of tens of thousands of individuals. The bats are a large and diverse order, con-
sisting of more than 900 species. All of them fly to earn their living. Some feed
on insects, some on fish, others on plant material. Vampire bats, of course,
ingest blood for their subsistence. The bats comprise many diverse specialists.
And, of course, there are many other mammals that live above the terrestrial
substrate, including a variety of primate species that are essentially arboreal.
Ontogenetic adaptation helps us recognize unity and commonality within
the astonishing diversity of mammalian life. The developmental process is uni-
fied by a common sequence of early developmental niches. Whether the spe-
cies produces young that differentiate into aquatic, arboreal, terrestrial, or
subterranean forms, and regardless of whether it subsists as a carnivore, herbi-
vore, insectivore, or omnivore, all are utterly similar in their developmental
origins. These features are universal among, and unique to, mammals.
Figure 9.3. Four ontogenetic niches of Rattus norvegicus. The Norway rat begins life in
(a) a uterine habitat where breathing and feeding are via the placenta and umbilical cord.
Like all other mammals, a next habitat is (b), the exterior of the mother’s body, where it
can find a nipple and obtain mother’s milk. The mother gradually spends more time
away from the nest and young and (c) the huddle of littermates increasingly becomes
habitat. The drawing in the lower right depicts (d) a social group, which next becomes a
predominant habitat for the weanling pup. Each ontogenetic niche shown here requires
a distinct set of adaptive specializations for successful life in it.
as occurs in many ducks) or even a bird not of their own species (in the case of
heterospecific, or cross-species, brood parasitism, as occurs, e.g., in cuckoos
and cowbirds; see Chapter 10). Cases of heterospecific parasitism provide
some especially dramatic examples of ontogenetic adaptations in which the
hatchlings of one species display adaptation—necessarily—to the constraints
and conditions imposed by another, host species’ niche. To earn a living suc-
cessfully, the young parasite must manage not just to survive but also to grow
and thrive under conditions set by another species’ evolutionary history.
The story begins with the egg itself. Although characteristics of the egg are
not properly part of the young (being determined by maternal genotype, diet,
etc.), they are part of the package necessary for success. In cases where hosts
exhibit egg rejection behavior (destroying or ejecting foreign eggs), the parasite’s
egg must camouflage, in size and coloration, with the eggs of the host. As an
additional defense against rejection, adult brown-headed cowbirds (Molothrus
ater) have been observed to bully hosts into accepting their eggs and to even pun-
ish hosts severely for egg rejection—destroying the host’s eggs, ensuring that the
genotypes underlying their clever (or insubordinate) behavior are not passed on
(Hoover & Robinson, 2007). Similar retaliatory ‘mafia-like’ behavior has been
observed in at least one species of cuckoo (Soler et al., 1995).
Once the egg is accepted, incubated, and hatched, many parasites
exhibit gape coloration and begging calls that resemble those of host species’
young—often with characteristics that present the parents with especially attrac-
tive cues, ensuring that parasites receive more than their share of food and paren-
tal care. For example, in one study of indigo bunting (Passerina cyanea) nests
parasitized by cowbirds, provisioning rate was higher in parasitized than nonpar-
asitized nests, but young buntings from parasitized nests were nonetheless smaller
than those from nonparasitized nests (e.g., Dearborn et al., 1998).
Some species of cuckoo, such as the European cuckoo (Cuculus canorus), addi-
tionally, actively eliminate competitors upon hatch—a behavior first described
by Edward Jenner, of smallpox vaccine fame. These cuckoo chicks often hatch
earlier than the eggs of their host. Within hours of hatching, these cuckoo chicks
display egg eviction behavior, consisting of a backward extension of the feather-
less wings, which effectively cups an unhatched egg of the host in an unusual
but species-typical depression behind the neck. The cuckoo chick then thrusts
its legs, backing up to the edge of the nest, and the host’s own egg is “evicted”
from the nest! Initially, this apparently reflexive behavior is expressed most vigo-
rously when the cuckoo chick senses an object on its back or behind the wings.
As you might anticipate, the behavior subsides and is not displayed by older birds
(Jenner, 1788; Gill, 1983). You can witness some examples of this extraordinary
behavior at http://youtu.be/lgIL8dbSMUA and http://youtu.be/RDettPoRuNU.
304 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Principles of adaptation to the posthatching niche also apply under more typ-
ical, nonparasitic circumstances. Hatchlings must be adapted to, and adapt to,
the niche they encounter (see Box 9.2 to remind yourself about the uses of the
term adaptation), which may or may not include a nest, broodmates, or even
parental care. In the extreme case of “super-precocial” species, such as mega-
podes (e.g., the Australian brush turkey, Alectura lathami, and the maleo, Macro-
cephalon maleo), young hatch as miniature adults. These young display
remarkable completeness and even fly in some cases within a short time after
hatching—without ever having been incubated by an adult (Starck & Ricklefs,
1998). Other, more typically precocial birds (e.g., fowl, ducks, quail) hatch with
precocious sensory and motor systems and can locomote within a short time after
hatching but still rely on parents for limited care and supervision for several days
or weeks after hatching. In highly altricial species, as in most song birds, includ-
ing the brood parasites described above, young hatch in a highly vulnerable,
immature state and require a great deal of further parental investment before they
are capable of making a living as independent adults (Starck & Ricklefs, 1998).
There are numerous factors that influence the nature of the postfledging
niche, including whether the species is capable of flight or swimming, the
nature and presence of predators, climate, whether or not the species is migra-
tory or exhibits complex vocal behavior, and the predominant mating system,
as well as the size, complexity, and durability of social groups and other
factors. Although the general sequence of embryo-in-an-egg ! hatchling !
independent, breeding adult can be said to be universal in birds, the rate of
development and progression through these niches, as well as the specific
nature of the final niche(s) inhabited by the adult, vary considerably. Each of
the ontogenetic niches traversed by a given species of bird—and often the
transitions between them—involve distinct ontogenetic adaptations.
which are adaptations to the challenge of emerging from the confines of a rigid
shell. Hatching is a distinct challenge for an embryo because its growth in the
days leading up to hatching completely fills the space within the egg, necessi-
tating a specific prehatch posture (e.g., head tucked under wing), with few
degrees of freedom to execute the movements vital for successful hatching.
For most species, the hatching muscle, located on the back of the neck, grows
rapidly in size, swelling with lymph in the days prior to hatch. The greatly
swollen muscle functions as a cushion and brace as well as a part of the muscu-
lature used for “pipping” (creating an initial break or indentation in the egg-
shell) and chipping out of the egg (Fisher, 1958).
The egg tooth and the hatching muscle together provide the means of pen-
etrating the egg membranes and eggshell. In some species the egg tooth is used
to rupture and cut or tear the egg, but in others the egg tooth appears to func-
tion as a guide, sliding along the inner surface of the shell as the embryo
rotates within the egg, keeping the beak positioned so that it can repeatedly
exert pressure on the same location(s), progressively weakening the shell
(Brooks & Garrett, 1970). Examples of hatching behavior can be viewed at
http://youtu.be/QY6me0BqZMQ and http://youtu.be/aFi7KxHJu-0. To use
its egg tooth, an embryo must process sensory information (tactile, vestibular,
proprioception) and combine these perceptions with a series of coordinated,
full-body contractions involving the hatching muscle (Hamburger & Oppen-
heim, 1967) as well as pressure-sensitive receptors in the back of the neck. By
combining perception, orientation, and implementation of its specialized
anatomy, embryonic behavior becomes hatching behavior and the egg is
pipped open and cracked.
How does the chick escape the confines of its cracked egg? Clearly, the simulta-
neous pushing of both legs and coordinated lifting of the head to force open
the egg and free the legs, wings, and head is an important tactic. Note that
once the chick has hatched, such leg movements disappear and are replaced
by alternating leg movements. In other words, hatching involves one organiza-
tion of leg movements, while walking involves a distinctly different organiza-
tion. In precocious, ground-nesting species, such as most ducks and fowl, for
example, the switch from one organization takes place right after hatching
and lasts for the rest of the animal’s life. How is this switch accomplished?
Anne Bekoff and colleagues discovered that the switch from synchronous to
alternating leg movements is determined by nerve endings in the chick’s neck!
In the prehatching posture mentioned earlier, the chick’s neck muscles are
stretched when its head is folded under a wing, and this stretching is eased
when the neck is straightened as the head comes free of the closed shell. Bend-
ing the chick’s neck, by placing a chick into an artificial glass egg, reinstates the
306 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Box 9.3
Niche shift in red-eyed tree frog development
Life can be doubly treacherous for the red-eyed tree frog (Agalychnis calli-
dryas). Inhabiting wetlands from the Yucatán to Panama, this amphibian
begins its behavioral life in an egg, which is part of a large clutch laid in a
gelatinous mass on vegetation overhanging temporary ponds. The embryos
are capable of hatching just five days after fertilization, by which time they
are already recognizable as tadpoles, with functioning eyes, well-developed
gill circulation, muscular responses, and opercular development. Left undis-
turbed, however, they will hatch later, by day 10, when they are much larger
and have developed their external mouthparts. Upon hatching the tadpole
immediately drops into the water. This represents a major niche shift from
embryonic life in an egg habitat to a tadpole’s aquatic life in a pond.
BEHAVIORAL DEVELOPMENT AND ONTOGENETIC ADAPTATION 307
What makes life treacherous for the red-eyed tree frog? While living in its
egg on a leaf, the embryo is sought by a variety of aerial and terrestrial pred-
ators, including the cat-eyed snake (Leptodeira septentrionalis). If this were
not tough enough, as a tadpole, A. callidryasis is attacked by predators in
the water, such as freshwater shrimp, Macrobrachium americanum, that
spends most of their time on the bottom of ponds, a microhabitat in which
their attacks are most effective.
Karen Warkentin found that these tadpoles exhibit a behavioral strategy
that reflects a trade-off between the two types of predation risk. Over several
years, she studied more than 1,000 egg clutches in Costa Rica. When a
clutch of eggs was attacked by a snake, the young instantly shifted into
hatching behavior, quickly emerged, and dropped into the water. If not
exposed to such attacks, hatching is delayed and the young emerge as larger,
more differentiated tadpoles (Warkentin, 1995). There are measurable fit-
ness advantages to the later hatching, when it is possible, for the larger tad-
poles are better equipped to avoid predation from the shrimp waiting for
them on the bottom of the pond. Indeed, the older hatchlings avoid the
bottom more and are more effective in evasive fleeing from aquatic preda-
tors (Warkentin, 1999). These investigations included field experiments
showing that the embryos respond specifically to predatory attacks but not
mere mechanical stimuli, such as movements or vibrations.
The general principle illustrated by these field studies is that growth and
mortality, the major fitness components of prereproductive life, increase
with size in A. callidryasis. Such fitness components can also vary with hab-
itat. Warkentin (1995, 1999) showed a detailed set of relations in which
timing of hatching behavior and shifting to a new niche was determined
by the embryos’ perception of immediate predation activity. The tadpoles’
niche shift was accompanied by regulated repertoire of age-related behav-
ioral strategies that improved their chances of survival in their new, aquatic
niche.
movements, and swallowing, functional joints cannot develop, and lung and
gastrointestinal development are compromised (Drachman & Coulombre,
1962; Moessinger, 1983; Alberts & Ronca, 1993).
In most mammals, it is mechanically necessary for the fetus to pass head-
first through the birth canal. As we have already noted, fetuses move through-
out gestation and consequently are usually oriented randomly within the
womb. As birth approaches, it is essential for a fetus to actively orient itself
for the journey to the outside world. In humans and other primates, this
involves adoption of a head-downward posture. Such active positioning
depends on integrated sensory and motor actions by the fetus. Fetal behavior
is an often-overlooked aspect of early development, but it is important to
many aspects of postnatal life and to the birth process itself.
The rich and complex behavioral repertoire of mammals is enabled by the
evolution of large, experience-sensitive brains. Not surprisingly, this is accom-
panied by relatively large heads, which themselves create a mechanical chal-
lenge for birth. Passage of a large human head through the birth canal of a
human female is made possible by the flexibility provided by the incomplete
bone and skull development. Figure 9.4 shows the state and structure of the
infant human skull. Note the incomplete bone formation of the developing
skull. The separate plates will eventually come together and seal as the bone
tissue itself hardens.
In its immature state, however, the skull is very flexible, and the baby’s
head can be squeezed to pass through the birth canal. Is this kind of fit an adap-
tation? With reference to the kinds of uses of the term shown earlier in
Box 9.2, it seems clear that a soft, malleable skull meets criteria 1 and 3 because
a soft skull serves a proximate function (1) and contributes to the overall match
of the neonate to its shifting niches (3). But—and this is a very important
distinction—we cannot make a good case that the malleable skull is an adapta-
tion that arose from natural selection for this purpose because immature bird
skulls also show the same soft and malleable characteristics, and bird heads
are protected by a hard shell. All known fossil evidence indicates that mam-
mals and birds share some common, distant ancestors, organisms that grew
their skulls according to the process we now see in both birds and mammals.
This tells us, then, that the soft, separate plates of the immature skull existed
historically before there were mammals and that mammalian development
took advantage of—co-opted—the preexisting characteristic and made use of
it in the process of mammalian birth, but natural selection did not produce
the characteristic. In this way, the malleable skull of a neonatal mammal does
not meet criterion 4 for an adaptation because it did not arise historically for
its current function. Evolutionary biologists sometimes use the term
Figure 9.4. Two views of the skull of a newborn human. Note that the cranial plates
are incompletely formed. They join at “sutures,” which remain incomplete at birth,
leaving a diamond-shaped space or “soft spot” at the top of the skull and another at
the back. The sutures are part of the flexibility of the skull, which can safely comply to
the pressures of squeezing through the birth canal.
310 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
mechanical, breakdown of the cell walls of the algae and plankton (Strath-
mann, 1971).
Tadpoles display patterns of utilization that are seen in invertebrate suspen-
sion feeders. When food is not abundant in the environment, they retain par-
ticles in their gut and process the material more thoroughly. When food is
abundant, no effort is made to digest it thoroughly, and it is allowed to pass
rapidly through the tadpole gut. Overall, the rate of moving water and partic-
ulates by suspension feeders depends on the concentration of suspended mat-
ter (Wassersug, 1975).
For the newborn of many species, odor cues are essential for getting to the
nipple and for the first suckle. If the odor is removed from the mother’s body
or if the infant has impaired olfactory function, suckling may never begin
(Teicher & Blass, 1976)! The key odor cue for suckling is present in the amni-
otic fluid, so the mammalian fetus is exposed to it during gestation and
throughout the birth process. Experimenters have changed the odor of amni-
otic fluid by adding distinct flavors to the mother’s diet or by injecting small
amounts of a novel odorant into the amniotic fluid toward the end of gesta-
tion. Newborns exposed to a novel odor in amniotic fluid attach to nipples
scented with the experimental odor and may even not respond to the natural
cue! These results were a good indication that the fetus’ experience in utero
is part of an important learning process through which the newborn acquires
its odor-guided responses to the mother’s body (Pedersen & Blass, 1982;
Alberts & Ronca, 2012).
Other evidence indicates that the learned olfactory cue generally activates
the infant and that the enhanced activity includes head movements and prob-
ing and nuzzling with the facial areas (Pedersen & Blass, 1982). At this point,
the newborn’s sensitive skin, especially around the mouth (the so-called perio-
ral area), which is richly innervated by early-developing nerves, triggers a sim-
ple rooting reflex when the tactile receptors encounter a protruding nipple.
The infant opens its mouth, turns toward the side of stimulation, and grasps
the nipple.
Mammalian infants have a complete secondary palate in the roof of the
mouth, separating the nasal airway and the oral cavity, so that an infant’s
mouth can be dedicated to holding a nipple yet breathe nasally. Other ani-
mals, specifically nonmammalian predators, have such structures, and these
have been retained by mammalian infants, providing vital adaptation to suck-
ling and breathing (cf. Oftedal, 2002; Alberts & Pickler, 2012).
5- and 11-day-old pups learned to turn their heads to cool off in a hot environ-
ment. These results suggest that asymmetry of thermotaxis may be an ontoge-
netic adaptation in day-old rats, as the potential benefits of avoiding
overheating normally do not outweigh the risks of rapid heat loss due to cooling
for these young pups (Hoffman et al., 1999).
glance, such a system may appear dangerously risky—a solution that evolution
ought to have avoided. A mother is nonetheless a normally occurring and nec-
essary feature of the developmental system for such species (i.e., the chicken
and egg), and embryos are unlikely to hatch and even less likely to survive in
the absence of a broody adult (Lickliter & Harshaw, 2010). Species that
have evolved developmental systems not requiring parental care, such as
the Australian brush turkey—which hatch in piles of vegetation, warmed by
the decay of plant matter, and live fairly solitary lives prior to breeding—are
exceptions. In all other cases, hatchlings do best to form an attachment to
whatever adult happens to be present, even if a member of an entirely different
species (many ducks, for example, practice both intra- and interspecific
parasitism—laying some portion of their eggs in the nests of other birds).
Hatchlings moreover do well to maintain such attachments, even in the
face of suboptimal care or abuse. Exposing chicks to aversive stimulation in
the presence of an imprinting object—for example, sounding a loud clapper
whenever a chick closely approaches the object, or shocking chicks in the pres-
ence of the object—results in an increased preference for the imprinting stimu-
lus (e.g., Hess, 1964)! A number of studies have also shown that the following
of an imprinted object is enhanced by increasing the arousal levels of hatch-
lings, either by associating the following context with shock prior to testing
or by administering adrenergic agonists. Although the mechanisms underlying
this ontogenetic adaptation in birds are relatively poorly understood relative to
rodents (discussed below), its consequences can be observed in the wild and in
certain cases can lead to the death of offspring. For example, in coots (e.g.,
Fulica atra) and moorhens (e.g., Gallinula chloropus), parents are frequently
aggressive with chicks, tousling them—grasping the chick’s head, picking it
up, and shaking it vigorously—a behavior that can have fatal consequences
for chicks (Horsfall, 1984; Leonard et al., 1988).
Similar adaptations against acquiring aversions to caregivers have been doc-
umented in dogs (Canis lupus familiaris) and nonhuman primates, but the
phenomenon has been most intensively studied in rodents, which are gener-
ally altricial and far more dependent on the mother than are precocial birds
and their parents. The functions of this adaptation are clearer in the ontoge-
netic niche occupied by the newborn rodent, in that not all stimulation from
mother is guaranteed to be positive or pleasant (Hofer & Sullivan, 2001).
For example, a mother may step on pups as she enters and exits the nest or
when she adjusts her posture while on the nest. She may bite or even nick
pups accidentally as she handles or transports them. Many such experiences
would have the potential to induce an aversion to mother were there not an
adaptation against the formation of such aversions. The mechanism
BEHAVIORAL DEVELOPMENT AND ONTOGENETIC ADAPTATION 317
Transport Reflexes
The young of many species are incapable of sustained, general locomotion.
In such species, it is common to see adults carrying infants. Such transport
behavior takes many forms. The human parent can, of course, carry an infant
in its arms. Quadrupeds that are constrained to ambulate on their forelegs
more typically carry their young by orally grasping them. In such species, the
young often display a transport reflex (Brewster & Leon, 1980). In a variety
of species, including rodents and cats, the parent will be seen to grasp the
318 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 9.5. Demonstrating the grasp reflex in a human infant. This classic photograph
shows the surprising strength of the grasp reflex in an infant, who is holding its own
weight with one hand.
offspring by the skin behind the neck. The reflex is thus triggered in the off-
spring: limbs are retracted, and the tail may be brought to the ventral midline.
In this position, the kitten facilitates the efficiency of the mother’s behavior. In
studies of how the reflex is elicited, this is the body area from which the reflex
can be triggered most efficiently. Moreover, the reflex appears developmentally
—when the offspring have grown to a size that their limbs will interfere with
the parents’ carrying. Prior to that age, the reflex is not expressed. The decline
of the reflex corresponds to the age when the offspring become independent
and will move on their own (Brewster & Leon, 1980). You can view some exam-
ples of transport reflexes at http://youtu.be/hzw6x8bClR0.
There are other reflexes displayed by infants that may operate similarly. The
grasp reflex is seen in many primate infants, including humans, and is easily elic-
ited by the sensation of hair on the palm, which elicits a strong, reflexive grasp
response. Figure 9.5 shows a classic demonstration of an infant human sustaining
its own weight with this simple reflex. It is believed that this stunning feat by a
human infant is a vestige of a reflexive grasping onto the fur of a primate mother,
who may be running and jumping while carrying her offspring.
The grasp reflex, like many other such reflexes, disappears in human infants
by three to six months of age, as it does in the nonhuman primates that show
such reflexes. In a variety of experimental studies and in some clinical conditions
involving neural damage, these reflexes reappear, suggesting that when they ini-
tially were lost it was through active suppression, or inhibition. In this way, the
reflex circuits remain present in the nervous system but are actively inhibited
by later-developing systems.
BEHAVIORAL DEVELOPMENT AND ONTOGENETIC ADAPTATION 319
CONCLUSIONS
We have surveyed a wide range of behavioral phenomena in a diverse set of
animals. Hopefully, we have provided information, analyses, and ideas that
have changed the way you look at development, for this was our goal when
we began the chapter. To us, there is great insight and understanding to be
gained from a developmental perspective of behavior, particularly one that
320 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
integrates basic biological concepts such as adaptation. Here we have seen that
the behavior of young, immature animals is more than a hodgepodge of simple
reflexes that will mature or coalesce into the full and functional behavior of an
adult. Instead, we have seen that embryos behave adaptively—in ways that fit
to their immediate surroundings—often with specializations lacking in the
adult form. This view showed us evidence that natural selection works on each
stage of the life cycle and helped us to appreciate that components of early life
contribute importantly to fitness in the ultimate, evolutionary sense of adapta-
tion. The multidimensional concept of ontogenetic adaptation can be a help-
ful beacon, illuminating features of developing animals and leading to
rigorous analyses of adaptive fitness of behavior.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The writing of this chapter was supported, in part, by NIMH grant RO1-
MH082019 to JRA.
INTRODUCTION
The study of sociality has a venerable history in animal behavior (Allee, 1927;
Alexander, 1974; Wilson, 1975; Hinde, 1976; Trivers, 1985; Hamilton,
1995; de Waal & Tyack, 2003). It is an area of pronounced interest, perhaps
owing to our own species’ social proclivities. Research in the area has provided
ample evidence that social environments have important influences over
physiology, behavior, health, and even evolution (West-Eberhard, 1983;
House et al., 1988; Altmann et al., 1995; Heyes & Galef, 1996; Hoffman
et al., 1999; Fernald & White, 2000; Adkins-Regan, 2005; Dunbar, 2007).
With that said, there are several distinct challenges in conceptualizing and
experimenting on social animals that have limited our progress in producing
a unified theory of the biological basis of sociality. These challenges all relate
to the complex interaction that exists between individuals and their social
environment. Social individuals are intimately linked to their groups in a feed-
back relationship: individuals influence groups, and, at the same time, groups
influence individuals. As a consequence of this interrelationship, it becomes
very difficult to study, or even think about, individuals’ traits—those charac-
teristics or behaviors of an individual that are produced through specific neural
circuits and are the features upon which evolution has acted—because these
traits are not independent of the social environment. Traits depend on the
326 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
social environment in several ways: (1) they have evolved to function in social
contexts, (2) their development reflects a history of social influences across the
individual’s lifetime, and (3) their expression can depend on the immediate
social context. This chapter will discuss some of the problems involved in
studying social traits and highlight some network methods for experimenting
on and measuring the learning, development, and function of social behavior.
These methods, we argue, hold promise to change the way we understand the
connection between individuals and their social world.
males, who will respond aggressively to the songs that females find attractive.
Thus, the development of an effective communication signal in a male cow-
bird requires an individual having properly functioning neural circuitry but
also depends on the neural pathways and behavior of receivers (rival males,
potential mates) to operate effectively. This view of development is not
individual-based but instead integrates the neural function and behavior of
interconnected individuals within the social environment. In order for behav-
ior in one individual to function effectively, the behavior of others must also
function effectively. This social view of song development opens up many pos-
sibilities to study pathways that might otherwise be ignored under an
individual-centric view of song. For example, the visual system in male cow-
birds must play a role in song development in order for males to take in infor-
mation from the gestures of females, as might tactile information from the
aggressive interactions with other males.
Similar to research on mechanism, work on the evolution of behavior has
also predominantly maintained a focus on individuals over social networks.
Because evolution acts on gene frequencies within gene pools, and the target
of selection is the individual, selection acting on groups of unrelated
Figure 10.1. Social interactions among male cowbirds. The male on the left is singing
and giving a wing-spread display to the male in the center, who is responding with a
neck stretch, while the male on the right observes the interaction.
328 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
behavior produced by a social individual can be related to the activity (or inac-
tivity) of other individuals in the group, and thus measures of an individual
may relate to idiosyncrasies of immediate or past social contexts. For example,
the “aggressiveness” of a territorial male could be measured by the number of
fights in which the individual engages. However, this number may depend on
the number and quality of the potential competitors present or on the number
and quality of contests the male experienced across his lifetime (Chase et al.,
1994; Hsu & Wolf, 1999). Similarly, the success of a male’s courting behavior
will be influenced by the presence and preferences of females as well as the
skills of the rival males present. In addition, traits can be highly context-
based. Adaptive behavior in one context may be maladaptive in another.
For example, an adult male may benefit by being highly aggressive in the
presence of young males but may be at a disadvantage among other, highly
aggressive adult males. Thus selection may favor highly malleable behavioral
strategies that change with the social context. Measuring individuals’ charac-
teristics across numerous social contexts and over time would provide
important information about the reliability and repeatability of indivi-
duals’ behavior, but such an undertaking is rarely possible (but see Gersick
et al., 2012).
Too often the actual measures collected from social individuals are tallies of
some easy-to-measure behavior, for example (ones that we have been guilty of
using) the number of songs a songbird sings, the number of times a male fights
with other males, or the number of wingstrokes a female produces. Implicit in
these measures are several assumptions: (1) that more is better—a ranking of
birds based on the numbers of these behaviors they produce will reveal some-
thing important about the birds’ relative quality; and (2) that these behaviors
are characteristics of the individuals that are not maintained by peculiarities
of their immediate or developmental environments. These assumptions, how-
ever, may not be met. It is often the case that those behaviors that are most
frequent and most easily measured by observers are not in fact the ones that
are most biologically important (West & King, 1988), and when the same
individual is examined across different environments, the patterns of its behav-
ior can be dramatically different (White et al., 2012).
Another methodological challenge associated with studying social behavior is
in statistical analysis. The most common statistical methodologies used in
studies of behavior contain explicit assumptions about the independence of
individuals’ data. Yet if individuals’ data were independent, there would be little
reason for studying social behavior in the first place. Thus, pseudoreplication
(Kroodsma, 1989) becomes an important issue for experimental design and
analysis: there is some level of dependence among individuals, and without
330 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
power, and storage of modern computers that can produce datasets of a size,
breadth, and detail not possible previously. This increase in computer power
has allowed for new statistical techniques to be developed that can examine
dependence and independence of social individuals (Whitehead & Dufault,
2008). Taken together, these methodological and technological advances pro-
vide the foundation for new ways to study sociality.
with other females for access to mates (Freed-Brown et al., 2006). In addition,
through wingstroking, females can modify males’ song development to suit their
individual preferences (West & King, 1988; King et al., 2005). Taken together,
dominance, courtship, song preferences, and competition combine in complex
ways to produce the social interactions necessary for effective breeding.
The first step in designing a new paradigm to study individuals as they live
and interact in groups was to set up a facility where groups could be housed,
individuals could be measured, and experimental control could be imposed
(King et al., 2002). Using large outdoor aviaries at field stations at Indiana
University and the University of Pennsylvania, we housed cowbirds in large
groups (approximately 20–70 individuals each). While these conditions can-
not be considered directly analogous to cowbird social conditions in the wild,
the aviaries do provide the birds with environments rich in ecological and
social complexity. In these groups, we could manipulate the social experiences
available by changing the composition of the flocks. This preparation brought
with it new challenges for data collection and statistical analysis. We refined
the preparation by devising a automated speech-recognition data-collection
technology (White et al., 2002a), using agent-based simulations to test prop-
erties of data-collection procedures (White & Smith, 2007), incorporating
social network analyses to measure social structure (Miller et al., 2008), and
creating new techniques for experimentally modifying social behavior (West &
King, 2008). These tools and techniques have allowed us to maintain complexity
in the environment while not sacrificing experimental control. The speech-
recognition data-collection system has been especially valuable in allowing us to
take extensive and detailed measures of birds’ interactions and to collect vast
libraries of social behavior on numerous individuals across their lifetimes.
Results that emerged from these experiments have consistently challenged
our preconceived assumptions about the relationship between individuals
and groups. Traits that we had always considered as invariant (such as sexual
preferences, aggressiveness, reproductive output, and song quality) were
remarkably plastic in response to the developmental and immediate social
environments. Results of this work have prompted us to think more about
socially distributed behavior, where tendencies toward social learning and
social interactions are the variables that have critical connections to fitness. It
has changed how we think of the development and proximate causes of behav-
ior, as well as the targets upon which evolution acts.
Conducting experiments in large, confined settings was a critical compo-
nent of the research paradigm. In these conditions, birds always have access
to social information. By varying the demographic composition of the flocks,
we could change the type of social information available within different
THE INDIVIDUAL IN CONTEXT 333
and half switching from one condition to the other (Gersick et al., 2012).
There were two important findings. First, the effect replicated across years—
the dynamic condition enhanced males’ social skills related to reproducing—
which meant that we had reversed the effects on the birds that switched condi-
tions from one year to the next. Second, evaluations of courting behavior and
reproductive success revealed that only the males that had been housed in the
static condition for both years showed any consistency in their behavior; that is,
they showed stability in how they sang to females and males and also in their mat-
ing success. All other groups showed no consistency in their behavior. Thus the
repeatability of many aspects of the males’ behavior was extremely low across years
for adult males who changed social conditions. Only when the groups remained
stable did their behavior and mating success remain stable (White et al., 2012).
Of the many surprises that have come from these experiments, perhaps the
most dramatic have come from experiments testing female behavior. Like
males, females have been shown to be plastic in response to changes in their
social environment. Through modifications to their groups, we have been able
to modify females’ sexual preferences for male song. We have been able to
change preferences for individual males. We have even been able to remove
preferences for local song types over subspecies song types. In addition, the
reproductive output of females—how many eggs they laid—turned out to
be affected by the social environment in which they found themselves
(Gros-Louis et al., 2003; King et al., 2003; West et al., 2006).
NEWEST ADVANCES
This social approach to studying behavior discovered a wealth of new fac-
tors important for the development of effective communication and mating.
For example, decades of work that used song-tutoring techniques in an
attempt to create malleability in females’ song preferences all failed (King &
West, 1983, 1990). Only when these techniques were used in social contexts
were we able to influence females’ preferences.
Studying birds in groups, however, highlighted many of the challenges that
were discussed above—most dramatically, how difficult it was to conceptual-
ize individuals’ traits. Many of the birds’ characteristics—their aggressiveness,
their song quality, their courtship skills, and their reproductive success—were
determined to a large extent by the developmental and immediate social ecol-
ogy the birds experienced. Thus we were left with the problem of trying to
characterize these highly malleable individuals. What characteristics could selec-
tion be acting on? What was it about individuals that allowed some to succeed and
gain reproductive success and others to fail? The answer, we suggest, is that those
THE INDIVIDUAL IN CONTEXT 335
individuals who were successful were those who gained the most effective
social skills: the abilities to read and react to social conditions quickly. Those
who could detect accessible mates, or evaluate relative dominance levels of
other males present and then quickly adjust their behavior in response, had
advantages in terms of competition and courtship, thereby gaining more repro-
ductive opportunities under various social conditions. If this is true, then selec-
tion should favor social learning and attentional abilities—those tendencies of
individuals to seek out others and learn from them during development.
This conception of individuals’ social learning proclivities provided us with
an answer to the problem of how to study individuals’ traits: one should not
study individuals’ behavioral outputs but instead study the specific patterns
of how individuals interact with their social environment. Our history of try-
ing to study behavioral outputs (e.g., total songs sung, total fights, total chatter
calls or wingstrokes by females) as they relate to song development or repro-
ductive success have usually met with failure. These tallies, which were aggre-
gated across weeks or months, measured gross amounts of behavior but could
not reveal the specifics of how individuals interacted with one another. Said
another way, the total number of times a behavior occurred says nothing about
whether the behavior was used in the appropriate context or was functionally
effective. The touchstone of effective communication in birds or humans is
not just the presence of a signal, be it a song or a word, but rather how it is used.
We required pragmatic measures that were sensitive to function to know
whether a behavior was being used in an appropriate context (Gros-Louis
et al., 2010). Thus, we needed a way to categorize different types of social inter-
actions in order to measure the potential functional effectiveness of a behavior.
provided the singer with feedback (or lack of feedback) about his use of the song.
Perhaps he received an approach or wingstroke reaction from a female, or
the song immediately led to a fight from another male. These are the contin-
gent interactions that provide opportunities for learning and that can shape
the social behavior repertoire across life.
Our first rudimentary investigation of sequences of behavior derived from a
meta-analysis of a number of groups we had studied across many years
(White et al., 2010b). We had been collecting eggs laid during breeding sea-
sons in our captive conditions and then, by subjecting them to microsatellite
parentage analyses, we were able to determine each egg’s parentage. We had
known for some time that egg production was highly variable within and
across groups; some groups would yield only a handful of eggs in a breeding
season while other groups would lay many hundreds. Until we amassed data
from all of the groups, we had been unable to determine what it was that con-
tributed to this variation. In the meta-analysis, we looked for variables that
explained reproductive success: both copulation success and the number of
offspring produced. We found that the best predictor of females’ copulation
success was the amount of female-directed song she received from her pair-
mate. This was not surprising, as we had seen this relationship in the past.
What was surprising was that there was only one variable that related to off-
spring production. It was the amount of male-male countersinging that
occurred in the groups. Males engage in countersinging as a form of competi-
tion where two or more males sing in close proximity (within approximately
30 cm). Males take turns singing back and forth with little time elapsing
between songs (usually no more than 10 to 15 seconds). There were two
notable aspects of the relationship between countersinging and egg produc-
tion. First, countersinging is a social variable and could not be understood at
an individual, or even a dyadic, level. It required the coordinated behavior of
many males. Second, examining countersinging required a sequential analysis.
Even though countersinging was comprised of male-directed song, the total
amount of male-directed singing was not related to egg production. Only
when male-directed song is used in a specific social context did it relate to
female reproductive stimulation.
Clearly the approach used for the meta-analysis—studying patterns of
social interactions across many groups—was not practical. It required exten-
sive numbers of groups to be run across many years in order to have the num-
ber of independent groups necessary to avoid pseudoreplication. In addition,
while we happened to find this one type of sequential social interaction that
was important for reproductive success, we needed a method to examine many
different types of social interactions simultaneously across development.
THE INDIVIDUAL IN CONTEXT 337
SOCIAL NETWORKS
Recently, we have looked to social network analysis to provide a more sensi-
tive means for studying social behavior. This is a suite of statistical tools that
evaluate and quantify social structure and social behavior that has recently
become popular in areas of animal behavior (Sih et al., 2009). These tools have
proven to be sensitive to aspects of social structure and patterns of social interac-
tions that we could not see with traditional parametric statistical analysis (Miller
et al., 2008). For example, we have incorporated some social network metrics to
examine how cowbird social networks change in response to the introduction of
new individuals (Gersick et al., 2012; White et al., 2010a, 2012). We found
that these metrics revealed properties of social structure that were not apparent
with other analyses. Yet the social network methods still lacked in important
ways, leaving the techniques only marginally useful in studying social develop-
ment at a detailed level. For example, the majority of the extant social network
methods dichotomize data to evaluate whether a link exists between two indi-
viduals or not. This effectively removes or at least greatly reduces the informa-
tion available in valued datasets. Another critical weakness was that there were
only a few methods that took into account sequences of actions and reactions.
We therefore attempted to develop our own social network method for meas-
uring the important aspects of social exchanges: the clusters of multivariate, con-
tingent interactions that change across time and that can involve many different
individuals. Thus the new method had to be able to take into account (1) multi-
variate data (that is, different types of actions and reactions), (2) directed data
(tracking the direction of the social exchange), (3) weighted data (maintaining
information about the number of interactions that exist), and (4) sequences
(to detect the reactions that are contingent on actions) from multiple individuals
(not just single subjects or even dyads). Finally, (5) we needed to take into
account how the network structures change across time because change is inte-
gral to the study of learning and development. Thus our methods had to be able
to measure interactions across different time series ranging from contingent
reactions in milliseconds to developmental milestones in months or years.
At present there are no social network methods that can account for all of
these aspects of social datasets. The closest technique that exists is the triadic
census that was first developed by Paul Holland and Samuel Leinhardt (Holland
& Leinhardt, 1970; Davis & Leinhardt, 1972). The triadic approach has been
used in animal behavior to describe a variety of systems including social interac-
tions, formation of coalitions, dominance hierarchies, grooming networks, and
alloparental care (Caplow, 1959; Chase, 1980; Hogue et al., 1996; Sinha,
1998; Chase et al., 2002; Faust & Skvoretz, 2002; Wittig et al., 2008; Schubert
et al., 2009). Recently, triads have been used in a meta-analysis of network
338 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 10.2. All possible combinations of triadic interactions. The first number repre-
sents the number of reciprocal dyads in a triad (both individuals interact with one
another), the second number represents the number of asymmetric dyads in a triad (one
individual does not reciprocate an interaction), and the last number represents the
number of null triads (two individuals do not interact). If a letter is present, it represents
one of four triadic states: transitive (T), cyclic (C), up (U), or down (D) triad. A tran-
sitive triad occurs when individual A is connected to individual B, individual B is con-
nected to individual C, and individual A is also connected to individual C. Cyclicality
occurs when individual A is connected to individual B, individual B is connected to
individual C, and individual C is connected to individual A. An up triad occurs when
individual A is connected to individual C and individual B is connected to individual C.
A down triad occurs when individual C is connected to individual A and individual B.
THE INDIVIDUAL IN CONTEXT 339
and then, no more than 15 seconds later, courted his female. We found that
the number of 012 triads in which males engaged was the only triad type that
correlated with their copulation success (r ¼ 0.85). The only triad type
that correlated with offspring production was the 111U triad (r ¼ 0.66).
Thus, this analysis supported the past meta-analysis indicating that the dyadic
singing interaction between males and pair-mates was the best predictor of
copulation success, but understanding egg production required taking into
account the social singing context. It required looking beyond the dyadic
interaction and revealed a specific pattern of social singing characterization.
The sequence analysis served as an advance over the meta-analysis in two ways.
First, it was much more sensitive to finding effects: one group in one breeding
season versus 17 groups across three years. Second, it revealed that the rela-
tionship between countersinging and egg production was linked to a specific
singing strategy: countersing, then court.
We have also used temporal triads to study the development of reproduc-
tive skills in groups of juvenile male birds that were raised with either sexually
inexperienced juvenile females or experienced adult females (Freed-Brown
et al., 2006). These housing conditions had pronounced effects on the males’
courtship competence and their reproductive success as measured by the
increased egg production from the adult females over that of the juvenile
females. We knew from previous work that juvenile females were physiologi-
cally capable of laying as many eggs as adult females, so the greater egg produc-
tion from the adults must have been a result of their males using more effective
courtship behavior to stimulate egg production. Traditional analyses were
unable to detect what happened during development that caused these func-
tional effects; these analyses revealed overlapping total amounts of singing
and social affiliations among males and females. Analysis of triadic distribu-
tions, however, found that the males with the adult females engaged in more
context-specific male-directed song than the males raised with the juvenile
females. Female cowbirds use a “chatter” vocalization to attract males to court
them, and that also incites male competition. Figure 10.3 shows a distribution
of triads containing male-male directed song after a female has chattered and a
male has approached her. We can see from Figure 10.3 that the males with the
adult females managed to sing many more songs to males in the context of
reacting to a female chatter than did the males with juvenile females. Thus, a
tabulation of triadic interactions picked up a contextual difference in song
use. Male countersinging increases female egg production, thus explaining
the reproductive advantage of the males raised with the adult females.
Given the differences in the courtship behavior of males raised with adult or
juvenile females, how might the adult females be different from the juveniles?
THE INDIVIDUAL IN CONTEXT 341
Figure 10.3. Triadic episodes by triad type for four flocks of brown-headed cowbirds.
Two flocks contained adult and two contained juvenile females. Thus, each triad
category has four bars, each representing one flock. The heights of the vertical bars
represent the frequencies of triadic episodes created by male-male directed songs
immediately after a male has approached a chattering female.
Figure 10.4 shows an example of triadic distributions for an adult and a juve-
nile female. The bars represent triads created by a female approach of another
individual. Each female has an equal number of triads, but approaches are dis-
tributed very differently across triad types. The adult female is much more
stereotyped in her interactions than the juvenile female. Thus, the adult
Figure 10.4. The distribution of triadic categories created by the approach behavior of
an individual adult female and an individual juvenile female brown-headed cowbird.
The heights of the bars represent the frequencies of triad types initiated by the females
approaching other individuals.
342 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
female is more predictable in her interactions and more likely to give system-
atic feedback to males who approach her. This is likely the reason the males
with the adults learned more effective courtship behaviors. These differences
give us clues to variables affecting female reproductive behavior as we have
found that the patterns of adult female approach behavior are stable over sea-
sons and even years and that female approach behaviors can be predictive of
reproductive output (Kohn et al., 2011, 2013, 2013).
Given the poor courtship skills of the males raised with juvenile females, it
would seem that each new generation of females must learn how to interact with
males, and exactly what is learned will influence what can be taught to young
males. This was a surprising finding because we had studied song development
during the first year of life in male cowbirds housed in flocks composed of a
mix of juvenile and adult females, and we had not been able to detect a difference
in female social behavior. In retrospect, it is clear to us that in those flocks com-
posed of males and adult and juvenile females, the juvenile females adopted adult
female behavior rapidly after their first contact with adult females. The social
organization can thus act as a highly flexible learning-based developmental
mechanism. The ability of the adult females in this study to coordinate their
behavior to foster the development of male courtship skills reveals that the under-
lying pattern of what is learned is adaptively coordinated behavior. Thus, the evo-
lutionary success of this parasitic species seems reliant on cultural transmission
for the acquisition of some of the most basic species-typical behaviors (see also
Freeberg et al., 1999, 2001, White et al., 2007).
DISCUSSION
Taken together, this chapter has laid out the case for the need to create a
new way to study social animals, focusing less on the individual and more on
the network of individuals in order to deal with the problem inherent in social
systems: that the social individual is not an independent entity; its neurobiol-
ogy, genes, and behavior are all influenced in dramatic ways by the social con-
text that surrounds the individual throughout its life. This means that
mechanistic and functional investigations focused solely on the individual
obscure (1) important social inputs and outputs in neural pathways and (2)
important forces that affect the direction and intensity of selection.
Social network analysts have argued for an understanding of social behavior
at different levels of analysis (James et al., 2009; Krause et al., 2009). While
the most common level of analysis has been at the individual or group/popu-
lation level (Sih et al., 2009), the triadic level has received little attention in
studies of animal behavior (Faust & Skvoretz, 2002). However, this may be
THE INDIVIDUAL IN CONTEXT 343
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We thank V. Anne Smith and Jennifer L Miller for their feedback in devel-
oping some of the triadic concepts presented in this chapter. Ken Yasukawa
and Zuleyma Tang-Martínez provided valuable comments on an earlier draft
of this chapter.
344 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Krause, J., D. Lusseau, & R. James. (2009). Animal social networks: An introduction.
Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 63, 967–973.
Kroodsma, D. E. (1989). Suggested experimental designs for song playbacks. Animal
Behaviour, 37, 600–609.
Maguire, S., M. F. Schmidt, & D. J. White. (2013). Social brains in context: Lesions
targeted to the neural song control system of female cowbirds affects their social
network. PloS ONE 8(5): e63239. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0063239.
Miller, J. L., A. P. King, & M. J. West. (2008). Female social networks influence male
vocal development in brown-headed cowbirds (Molothrus ater). Animal Behav-
iour, 76, 931–941.
Moore, A. J., K. F. Haynes, R. F. Preziosi, & P. J. Moore. (2002). The evolution of
interacting phenotypes: Genetics and evolution of social dominance. American
Naturalist, 160, S186–S197.
Nottebohm, F. (1980). Brain pathways for vocal learning in birds: A review of the
first 10 years. Progress in Psychobiology and Physiological Psychology, 9, 85–124.
Ortega, C. P. (1998). Cowbirds and Other Brood Parasites. Tucson: University of Ari-
zona Press.
Patricelli, G. L., J. A. Uy, G. Walsh, & G. Borgia. (2002). Male displays adjusted to a
female’s response. Nature, 415, 279–280.
Rescorla, R. A. & R. L. Solomon. (1967). Two-process learning theory: Relationships
between Pavlovian conditioning and instrumental learning. Psychological
Review, 74, 151–182.
Schneirla, T. C. (1965). Aspects of stimulation and organization in approach/with-
drawal processes underlying vertebrate behavioral development. Advances in
the Study of Behavior, 1, 1–74.
Schubert, M., N. Pillay, & C. Schradin. (2009). Parental and alloparental care in a
polygynous mammal. Journal of Mammalogy, 90, 724–731.
Searcy, W. A. & M. Andersson. (1986). Sexual selection and the evolution of song.
Annual Review of Ecology and Systematics, 17, 507–533.
Sih, A., S. F. Hanser, & K. A. McHugh. (2009). Social network theory: New insights
and issues for behavioral ecologists. Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 63,
975–988.
Sinha, A. (1998). Knowledge acquired and decisions made: Triadic interactions
during allogrooming in wild bonnet macaques, Macaca radiata. Philosophical
Transactions of the Royal Society of London, B, 353, 619–631.
Skinner, B. F. (1938). The Behavior of Organisms: An Experimental Analysis. Oxford,
UK: Appleton-Century.
Snowdon, C. T. & M. Hausberger (eds.). (1997). Social Influences on Vocal Develop-
ment. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Taylor, R. C., B. A. Klein, J. Stein, & M. J. Ryan. (2008). Faux frogs: Multimodal
signalling and the value of robotics in animal behaviour. Animal Behaviour,
76, 1089–1097.
Tinbergen, N. (1963). On aims and methods of ethology. Zeitschrift für Tierpsychol-
gie, 20, 410–433.
348 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Wilson, E.O. (1975). Sociobiology: The New Synthesis. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press.
Wittig, R. M., C. Crockford, J. Lehmann, P. L. Whitten, R. M. Seyfarth, & D. L.
Cheney. (2008). Focused grooming networks and stress alleviation in wild
female baboons. Hormones and Behavior, 54, 170–177.
Wolf, J. B., E. D. Brodie, III, & A. J. Moore. (1999). Interacting phenotypes and the
evolutionary process. II. Selection resulting from social interactions. American
Naturalist, 153, 254–266.
Zeigler, H. P. & P. Marler (2008). Neuroscience of Birdsong. Cambridge, UK:
Cambridge University Press.
This page intentionally left blank
11
INTRODUCTION
What comes to mind when you think of time? All too frequently, it seems the
response is: “I wish I had more of it.” In the modern world, time is a nuisance,
a limited quantity that constantly has to be divided by schedules and fought
against to complete deadlines.
Now, in your mind, take a moment to step out of your busy world and into
the summer woods near my hometown in southern Wisconsin. Here there are
no clocks, no deadlines. Time is the rhythm of life.
At sunrise, you wake to a chorus of birds singing. If you go for a walk, you
might spot a deer or rabbit in the fresh dew and mist or hear a splash in a pond
as fish catch insects. By midmorning the birds have quieted, squirrels run up
and down tree trunks, and bees and hummingbirds buzz between flowers. As
the day gets hotter, the animals slow down, and cicadas drone in the trees. A
hawk soars lazily overhead. In the evening, the air cools and you find yourself
swatting away more mosquitoes. The rabbit and deer reemerge. The chirping
of crickets and the croaking of bullfrogs fill the air. At nightfall, the dry leaves
on the ground rustle with nightcrawlers, and every once in a while you spot
glowing eyes in the darkness—a raccoon slinking into the bushes. You may
hear the howling of coyotes or the hoot of an owl.
352 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
In the woods, the seasons have more meaning than they do in a town or
city. Winter is a time of short days, frigid temperatures, and little food,
whereas summer is a time of relative abundance. For each species, there is an
optimal time to nest and reproduce, to store up food or body fat, to grow or
shed fur and feathers, to hibernate or migrate south.
In this chapter, we will examine these rhythms in animal behavior using
Tinbergen’s (1963) four great questions. Overall, we will focus on daily
rhythms in animal behavior, as there is a greater body of literature regarding
their mechanisms, but we will briefly touch on seasonal and lunar rhythms
near the end of the chapter.
niche, including color vision and heat tolerance in diurnal species, and low-
light vision and auditory acuity in nocturnal species (Kronfeld-Shor & Dayan,
2008).
Daily rhythms are thought to have emerged 3 billion years ago with the
evolution of cyanobacteria, one of the first life forms on earth. These rhythms
allowed the cyanobacteria to optimize photosynthetic processes and growth in
relationship to the solar cycle. As the solar cycle provides a strong selective
pressure for many other organisms, daily rhythms were highly evolutionarily
conserved and are also thought to have evolved independently multiple times
(Yerushalmi & Green, 2009). These rhythms are now found in almost every
organism on earth, including fungi, plants, fish, reptiles, birds, and mammals
(DeCoursey, 2004). Thus, it is likely that there have been daily rhythms in
behavior since the evolution of species capable of behavior!
Nevertheless, up until recently it was thought that the full diversity of
rhythmic patterns in animal behavior did not emerge until mammals evolved
200–250 million years ago. The dinosaurs, which were the dominant terres-
trial vertebrates of the Triassic and Jurassic periods, were considered to be
cold-blooded (ectothermic) and therefore likely to use solar radiation for
behavioral temperature regulation like many modern lizards. Because of this
limitation, it was thought that warm-blooded (endothermic) mammalian spe-
cies were able to compete by making use of the nocturnal niche (Smale et al.,
2003). However, new research suggests that dinosaurs may actually have been
warm-blooded, which would allow them to easily occupy a variety of temporal
niches. This hypothesis was bolstered by a recent study showing that the eye-
bone structure of dinosaurs indicates that they occupied a similar distribution
of temporal niches as modern terrestrial vertebrates, with an almost equivalent
number of nocturnal (large-eyed) species, diurnal (small-eyed) species, and
crepuscular/cathemeral species. Like modern vertebrates, this study found that
the temporal niche of dinosaurs was related to their ecological niche: flying
species were primarily diurnal, similar to modern birds, and predators were
primarily nocturnal, similar to modern mammalian carnivores. Large herbi-
vores appeared to be entirely cathemeral, most likely due to their need to for-
age for many hours each day to satisfy metabolic requirements and to avoid
overheating during the middle of the day (Schmitz & Ryosuke, 2011). Thus
the imagery in the movie Jurassic Park is likely to have been accurate: velocir-
aptors did hunt at night, even while other species, such as pterodactyls, were
active during the day.
Despite this new interpretation, the common ancestor of mammals is still
likely to have been nocturnal, and the majority of modern mammals exhibit
this activity pattern. Diurnality, on the other hand, appears to have evolved
A TIME FOR EVERY PURPOSE 355
is active during the day. However, the golden spiny mouse still shows physio-
logical signs of a nocturnal legacy in its retina and thermoregulation. If the
common spiny mouse is systematically removed from the habitat using trap-
ping, the golden spiny mouse quickly regains nocturnal activity. The golden
spiny mouse also develops nocturnal behavior immediately when brought into
a laboratory, away from the competitive constraints of a natural habitat.
Kronfeld-Shor and Dayan (2008) suggest that their species may represent an
intermediate evolutionary step in the development of diurnal behavior.
would start either progressively earlier each day or progressively later. This
meant that the internal clock of the animals had a period, or cycle length, that
was not exactly 24 hours (Figure 11.3; Aschoff, 1965).
In the 1960s, Jurgen Aschoff demonstrated that this was true for the inter-
nal clock of humans as well. To do this experiment, he made clever use of a
soundproof underground bunker built in Germany during World War II.
Volunteers, many of whom were students who wanted to cram for an exam,
agreed to isolate themselves in the bunker for up to 3 or 4 weeks. During this
time, they had no access to clocks or sunlight, although they could turn on the
358 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 11.3. Evidence for an internal clock: free-running period (adapted from Aschoff,
1965). The free-running activity rhythms of a chaffinch (Fringilla coelebs; left) and
human (right) from two separate experiments. At the top, the gray bars indicate the
original laboratory daily light cycle (gray ¼ imposed darkness). At the beginning of
the experiment, both the chaffinch and human subject were active during the lighted
part of the day, as illustrated by the thin horizontal lines. During this part of the
experiment, their activity is said to have been entrained by the light cycle. Then, after
several days, the finch was placed into constant conditions (dim light) and the human
subject was allowed to choose his or her own daily light cycle without the help of any
external time cues (no access to clocks or the outside world). At this point, the activity
rhythms of both the chaffinch and human subject started to free-run and drifted
progressively later each day relative to the outside world. This drift means that their
internal clocks were overestimating the length of a day and therefore had a free-
running period of greater than 24 hours. (The drift was so great over the full course of
the experiment that the x axis had to include more than 24 hours of clock time to
depict the drift!) At the end of the experiment, a laboratory light cycle was reimposed,
and the chaffinch and human subject returned to having an entrained activity rhythm
with a 24-hour cycle again.
lights in the bunker as they wished. Their only connection to the outside
world was an antechamber through which food and supplies were secretly
delivered (including a requisite daily bottle of German beer). During their
time in the bunker, the subjects were monitored for time perception and for
a variety of physiological rhythms, including daily rhythms in body tempera-
ture, sleep, and urinary metabolites. Aschoff himself lived in the bunker for
10 days and wrote about the feeling of timelessness.
After a great curiosity about “true” time during the first 2 days of bunker life,
I lost all interest in this matter and felt perfectly comfortable to live “timeless.”
. . . I had difficulty in deciding whether I had slept long enough. On day 8, I got
A TIME FOR EVERY PURPOSE 359
Why wouldn’t animals just evolve an internal clock with a period of exactly
24 hours? Pittendrigh and Daan’s (1976a) experiments suggested that it was
adaptive for animals to have an endogenous rhythm with a period that was
not exactly 24 hours because the constant process of correction allowed the
rhythms to better track the changes in photoperiod (the duration of light expo-
sure each day) that occurred as the seasons changed.
Once it was clearly demonstrated that circadian rhythms were generated by
an internal clock, the hunt began to locate this clock with the body. In order
to locate the internal clock in the mammalian brain, Irving Zucker’s labora-
tory reasoned that because the solar day is the primary time cue that entrains
circadian rhythms, a daily clock would require light input to function prop-
erly. Therefore, using rats (Rattus norvegicus), his laboratory searched for
regions in the brain that received direct projections from the retina and
lesioned (damaged) them. To determine if there was an effect on circadian
function, they examined daily behavioral rhythms in water consumption and
wheel-running activity. They expected that if the lesions disrupted circadian
entrainment, these behavioral rhythms might free-run even when the animals
were housed in a normal daily light cycle because the internal clock would no
longer be reset by light. If the lesions disrupted circadian rhythm generation
A TIME FOR EVERY PURPOSE 361
Figure 11.5. Exposure to light has the largest effect on circadian timekeeping at night
(adapted from Pittendrigh & Daan, 1976b). (a) Depicted is the free-running
rhythm of a golden hamster (Mesocricetus auratus) kept in constant darkness. The
hamster had a free-running period that was less than 24 hours long, so that each day
the hamster’s activity rhythm drifted a little bit earlier relative to normal clock time
(depicted on the x axis). On the eighth day of the experiment, the hamster was
exposed to a brief 15-minute pulse of light in the subjective evening (i.e., when the
hamster expected evening to be based on its own internal clock, as indicated by its
free-running activity). This caused the hamster’s activity rhythm to shift several hours
later (a phase delay). (b) After repeating this same experiment many times, the
researchers were able to construct a graph called a phase response curve that illustrates
the effect of brief light exposure at different times of the subjective day. This subjec-
tive time is also called circadian time and is determined by examining the animals’
free-running activity rhythm. For a nocturnal animal, a circadian time of 12 hours
would be when the animal begins its daily activity (the subjective evening), whereas a
circadian time of 20 hours would be early subjective morning. The hamster responded
to light exposure during the subjective evening by shifting its activity later (phase
delay, depicted as a negative phase shift on the y axis) and responded to light exposure
during the subjective morning by shifting its activity earlier (phase advance, depicted
as a positive phase shift on the y axis). Light exposure during the middle of the sub-
jective day had little effect, so this time period is referred to as the dead zone.
itself, then the daily behavioral rhythms would disappear completely (arrhyth-
mia), especially under constant conditions.
After several failed attempts to locate the circadian clock by destroying parts
of the visual pathway, they decided to lesion the suprachiasmatic nucleus
(SCN), which is a tiny region in the hypothalamus at the base of the brain.
The SCN was named due to its location above (“supra”) where the left and
right optic nerves cross (“chiasm”) to send visual information to the opposite
hemisphere. Robert Moore’s laboratory had recently demonstrated that the
SCN was not only located above the optic chiasm but actually received its
own direct neural projections from the retina (called the retinohypothalamic
362 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
tract; Moore & Lenn, 1971). Curt Richter (1965) had also demonstrated that
damage in the hypothalamus could influence behavioral rhythms. Therefore,
it was possible that the SCN was the brain’s internal clock, or circadian pace-
maker. When Zucker’s laboratory lesioned the SCN, they found that the rats
did indeed lose daily behavioral rhythms (Stephen & Zucker, 1972). How-
ever, at first they did not believe the results—in the laboratory, the experiment
was actually nicknamed “Fred’s Folly” after Friedrich Stephen, the graduate
student performing the experiments (Weaver, 1998). In the end, Fred was
vindicated—further replications of the experiment showed that daily behav-
ioral rhythms disappeared following lesioning of the SCN even while the
behavioral drive was preserved. The rats still maintained a similar overall
amount of activity, food, and water consumption. Zucker and Stephen had
located the circadian pacemaker! However, unbeknownst to them, Moore’s
laboratory had also followed up on their discovery of the retinohypothalamic
tract by performing a series of knife-cut and lesion studies aimed at the SCN
(Moore & Eichler, 1972). They discovered that daily rhythms in adrenal hor-
mone levels in the blood disappeared following lesioning and decided to pub-
lish the results at the same time as the Zucker laboratory (Moore & Eichler,
1972, Stephen & Zucker, 1972). Both groups are now credited for having dis-
covered that the SCN is the location of the main circadian pacemaker in mam-
mals (Weaver, 1998).
While eliminating rhythmicity by lesioning the SCN demonstrated that the
SCN was necessary for normal circadian function, further evidence was
needed to determine whether the SCN was sufficient to produce rhythms in
behavior. It remained possible that daily rhythms were produced by several
brain structures, including the SCN, or that there were pathways traveling
through the SCN that were necessary for maintaining daily rhythmicity. This
question could not be fully addressed until several years later following the dis-
covery of a mutant hamster (Mesocricetus auratus) with an exceptionally short
free-running period of 20 hours. This mutant hamster was named the “tau
mutant hamster” because free-running period is sometimes denoted with the
Greek letter (tau). The tau mutant was then bred to produce an entire line
of hamsters with short free-running periods. In a bold move, Martin Ralph
and Michael Menaker used these mutant hamsters to demonstrate that they
could restore behavioral rhythmicity following SCN lesions by transplanting
healthy fetal SCN tissue into the brain. Even more exciting, they found that
the free-running period of the host hamster matched that of the tissue donor
—an SCN transplant from a tau mutant hamster caused the normal host ham-
ster to develop a free-running period of 20 hours, whereas an SCN transplant
from a normal hamster caused a tau mutant host hamster to develop a more
A TIME FOR EVERY PURPOSE 363
them alive in a dish (cell culture) so that they could record the neurons’ elec-
trical activity (electrophysiology). They found that most SCN neurons could
maintain daily rhythms in electrical activity even when isolated from other
neurons and from the rest of the brain (Welsh et al., 1995). The cells them-
selves were circadian pacemakers! When isolated, each cell had its own free-
running period (“danced to the beat of its own drummer”). In contrast, when
cultured with other SCN neurons, the rhythms in the different cells were able
to synchronize by reciprocal communication into a single, strong daily
rhythm. This process of synchronization was called oscillator coupling.
To determine how circadian rhythms were generated within individual
cells, Joseph Takahashi and other chronobiologists (biologists who study clock
phenomena) used a technique called mutagenesis to cause genetic mutations
in a variety of species, including fruit flies, bread mold, plants, and mice. Then
they screened the progeny (offspring) for individuals with disrupted circadian
rhythms. If an individual was found to be active at an odd time of day or to
develop arrhythmia under constant conditions instead of a normal free-
running rhythm, they would sequence the individual’s genome for the identity
of the responsible gene. Using this technique, they developed a long list of
potential clock genes (Weaver, 1998).
It turned out that these clock genes generated circadian rhythms within
individual pacemaker cells in the SCN by means of a molecular cycle. As
you may know, in order for genes to be expressed in the body, a polymerase
enzyme binds to the promoter region of the gene and transcribes the gene
to form messenger RNA (mRNA). This mRNA is then translated to con-
struct proteins. Chronobiologists found that a 24-hour cycle develops within
circadian pacemaker cells because proteins produced by particular clock genes
inhibit their own transcription, leading to daily cellular oscillations. The core
feedback loop consists of a positive arm, which contains proteins that drive tran-
scription (BMAL1 and CLOCK), and a negative arm, which contains proteins
that inhibit transcription (PER, CRY, REVERBα). To initiate the cycle,
BMAL1 and CLOCK proteins drive the transcription of Per, Cry, and Reverbα.
The protein REVERBα then feeds back to inhibit the transcription of Bmal1,
whereas the PER and CRY proteins (PER1, PER2, PER3, CRY1, CRY2) inhibit
their own transcription and the transcription of Reverbα (Figure 11.7; Bae et al.,
2001; Zheng et al., 2001; for review see Hastings & Herzog, 2004).
The identification of the clock-gene feedback loop in the SCN helped
explain circadian entrainment to the solar day. As discussed earlier, chronobi-
ologists had discovered that circadian entrainment occurs because the internal
clock is most sensitive to time cues at times of day when the cues are not
expected to normally be present. For example, light exposure during the
A TIME FOR EVERY PURPOSE 365
Figure 11.7. Circadian rhythms are generated by clock genes. Depicted is an illustration
of the transcriptional-translational feedback loop that generates circadian rhythms in
the SCN. Arrows with a plus sign (þ) indicate that an element drives the transcription
of another element, whereas arrows with a negative sign (−) indicate transcriptional
inhibition.
evening shifts daily rhythms later, and light exposure during the early morning
shifts rhythms earlier, whereas light exposure during the middle of the day has
little effect. Thus, the phase of the circadian system is constantly being “cor-
rected” so that it is aligned properly with the solar day.
Yasufumi Shigeyoshi and colleagues (1997) discovered that this enhanced
sensitivity of circadian rhythms to light at night was related to the clock gene
Per1. To perform this experiment, Shigeyoshi used a technique called in situ
hybridization, which is a manner of visualizing the amount of mRNA present
in a brain region using a radioactive probe. The way that in situ hybridization
works is due to mRNA being single-stranded: you can construct probe mRNA
that is complementary to the mRNA of interest (Per1) using radioactive
nucleotides. Then, when you apply the probe to brain tissue, the probe binds
to the Per1 mRNA in the tissue to make double-stranded mRNA. Because the
probe is radioactive, wherever it binds in the tissue also becomes radioactive.
This means that you can quantify radioactivity to measure Per1 mRNA levels.
Using this technique, Shigeyoshi and colleagues (1997) measured how Per1
in the SCN respond to light exposure in mice (Mus musculus). They placed
the mice into constant dark conditions so that their activity rhythms started
to free run, then they sacrificed them at different times of the day so that they
could measure Per1 mRNA in their SCNs. As expected (Figure 11.8), they
found that Per1 levels had a beautiful daily rhythm in the SCN, with a
366 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 11.8. Clock-gene rhythms are affected by environmental time cues (adapted
from Shigeyoshi et al., 1997). Shown at the top is the daily rhythm of Per1 expres-
sion in the SCN. The SCN is indicated by the two arrows. The time points with the
brightest labeling have the most Per1 mRNA. The highest Per1 expression occurred at
circadian time 4 (CT4; subjective midday), and the lowest from CT12 to CT20
(subjective night). The picture with the star is tissue from a mouse that had been
briefly exposed to 30 minutes of light in the middle of the subjective night. This brief
light exposure caused the amount of Per1 in the SCN to increase dramatically.
Depicted below it are graphs that illustrate the daily rhythm of Per1 under constant
darkness and the induction of Per1 in response to brief light exposure during the
night. After this brief increase in response to light, the rhythm in Per1 shifts so that it
now peaks at a later time.
peak in the middle of the day (after transcription had been driven by Bmal1
and Clock) and low levels during the night (when transcription was suppressed
by Per and Cry protein feedback). However, if the mice were exposed to a brief
(30-minute) pulse of light during the night, Per1 levels suddenly increased,
and this increase caused the overall rhythm in Per1 to shift. For example, if
the light exposure occurred in the early morning, then Per1 would peak early
that day, and the circadian rhythm would shift earlier. If the light exposure
occurred in the evening, then Per1 would peak later that day, and circadian
rhythms would shift later. In contrast, in the middle of the subjective day
(keep in mind, these mice were free-running under constant dark conditions!)
A TIME FOR EVERY PURPOSE 367
light had no effect: the Per1 rhythm was already peaking at this time, so the
circadian rhythm in Per1 was not altered. In this manner, light information
from the retinohypothalamic tract could correct the phasing (timing) of the
clock-gene feedback loop so that it was properly aligned with the solar day.
The identification of clock genes also paved the way for another exciting
discovery: the SCN is not the only circadian pacemaker in the body. To make
this discovery, Hajime Tei and Michael Menaker’s laboratory cleverly created
a transgenic rat that had tissue that glowed (fluoresced) whenever Per1 levels
were elevated. This transgenic rat was created by inserting a gene for a fluores-
cent protein from fireflies (luciferase) after the promoter region for the gene
Per1 (Yamazaki et al., 2000). This meant that whenever Per1 transcription
was initiated, the luciferase gene was also transcribed and then translated into
fluorescent protein. The researchers dissected SCN tissue from this transgenic
rat and placed it into a cell culture dish. They were then able to measure
rhythms in “firefly” light emitted by the tissue as a way of determining when
Per1 was likely to be elevated each day. Astoundingly, they found that daily
rhythms in Per1-luciferase in the SCN persisted for up to 32 days in a dish!
More surprising, though, was the discovery that many other tissues fluoresced
in a rhythmic fashion, including the lungs, liver, and muscle. Nevertheless, the
rhythm in these tissues was not as strong as in the SCN, and petered out
(dampened) after only a couple of days in a dish (Yamazaki et al., 2000). This
dampening turned out to be due to individual pacemaker cells in the tissue
becoming uncoupled (desynchronized) so that they no longer produced a
strong, united rhythm.
These results suggested that the circadian system might actually consist of a
hierarchy of oscillators, with the SCN at the top serving as the “master pace-
maker,” which receives direct information about the solar day from the retino-
hypothalamic tract. The SCN could then send daily signals to local “slave
oscillators” in the brain and periphery to drive and coordinate their daily
rhythms. In this sense the SCN would function more as the conductor of an
orchestra rather than the sole source of circadian rhythm generation for the
body.
To test this hypothesis, their laboratory exposed their transgenic rats to a
“jet lag” scenario: they shifted the time that the lights were on in the animal
housing rooms either six hours earlier (similar to the jet lag someone would
experience if they traveled east from New York to France) or six hours later
(similar to traveling west from France to New York). Then they dissected vari-
ous tissues from the transgenic rats and observed how rapidly these tissues
responded to the time shift. As expected based on Shigeyoshi’s experiment
(Shigeyoshi et al., 1997), the SCN responded to the change in the light
368 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 11.9. Disrupted circadian rhythms can lead to death (adapted from Davidson et
al., 2006). Elderly mice (Mus musculus) exposed to frequent “jet lag” have increased
mortality. Jet lag was imitated by shifting the laboratory light cycle every four days so
that it was either six hours earlier (phase advancing-like what you would experience if
you traveled east from New York to France) or six hours later (phase delaying). After a
month of this procedure, almost half of the mice subjected to phase-advancing jet lag
had died. In contrast, over 90 percent of the mice survived that had experienced no jet
lag or phase-delaying jet lag. In general the circadian system has an easier time
adapting to phase delays than phase advances.
and fell to his death while trying to catch wild rock pigeons (Columba livia;
Globig, 2007). Since then, other researchers have applied his methods to
examine avian navigation at night. Using a planetarium, they showed that
songbirds could navigate using the movement of star constellations across
the night sky in reference to their own internal clocks (Brady, 1982).
Perhaps the best study indicating the importance of endogenous circadian
rhythms for ensuring a species’ survival in the wild came from the DeCoursey
laboratory (DeCoursey et al., 2000). DeCoursey’s five-member team spent
4,200 hours tracking the daily activity rhythms of wild chipmunks (Tamias
striatus) in a 4-hectare area of oak forest in the Allegheny Mountains of
Virginia. They chose chipmunks as their species of interest because chip-
munks show a high degree of den fidelity. This meant that the chipmunks
tended to live in the same burrow system for a large part of their lives, allowing
DeCoursey’s team to track their daily activity rhythms and survival rates.
Using live traps baited with peanut butter, DeCoursey’s team caught each
of the 126 adult chipmunks who lived in the project site and marked them
using toe clipping or ear tagging. Fifty-four of these individuals were then tem-
porarily brought back to the laboratory for circadian rhythm monitoring and
SCN surgery. Half of the animals received an SCN lesion, whereas the other
half received a similar control surgery in which the SCN was not destroyed
(called a “sham surgery”). Following surgery, DeCoursey’s lab confirmed that
the animals that received SCN lesions were arrhythmic but that they did not
have any unwanted side effects of surgery, such as visual impairment. Each
of these individuals was then fitted with a little radio collar with a 2-cm
antenna projecting over its head and returned to the wild (repatriated).
The process of repatriation was more difficult than expected: due to over-
crowding in the territory, the project chipmunks’ burrows had been taken
over during their absence. The new residents resisted their entry, chasing the
original owners away and fighting with them. This restlessness attracted local
predators. One of the project chipmunks was eaten almost immediately:
within an hour of repatriation, DeCoursey’s team observed the radio collar sig-
nal moving rapidly away from the study site, and the next day the empty collar
was found on the ground with tooth marks on the antenna. Distressingly,
during the next two weeks, over 40 percent of the original project chipmunks
were killed as territories were reestablished.
Despite this setback, after the initial disturbance period, the subtle impor-
tance of a functional circadian clock became quite clear. To examine the chip-
munks’ activity rhythms in the wild, DeCoursey’s team performed 28-hour
censuses of all above-ground activity. During these marathon data-collection
sessions, the team would set up live traps near burrow entrances at the study
372 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
site and monitor them every two hours. They also canvassed the study site sys-
tematically for evidence of chipmunk activity using radiotelemetry. What the
team found was surprising—the chipmunks never left their burrows during
the night. Even without a functioning circadian clock, the chipmunks knew
to avoid nighttime activity on the surface. However, this aversion did not pre-
vent them from engaging in nighttime activity in their burrows. DeCoursey’s
team noted that the SCN-lesioned animals seemed to be particularly restless at
night. Apparently nocturnal predators noticed this activity as well because by
the end of the study period more than 80 percent of the SCN-lesioned chip-
munks had been lost. In contrast, the chipmunks that had received sham sur-
geries had much higher survival rates, with very few deaths following territory
reestablishment (DeCoursey et al., 2000).
clever use of data during three nights in which there were lunar eclipses.
During these nights, they found that the owl monkeys were quite active up
until the point that the moon disappeared. Then their activity dropped to
almost nothing (Figure 11.10). Fernandez-Duque suggests that the ability of
Figure 11.10. The activity rhythms of owl monkeys (Aotus azarai) are masked by moon-
light (adapted from Fernandez-Duque et al., 2010). (a) A graph depicting the daily
activity of an owl monkey over several months. The owl monkey displayed prominent
crepuscular activity around the time of dawn and dusk, the timing of which changed
with the seasons (time is given in clock time on the x axis). The owl monkey also
exhibited nocturnal activity except on nights when there was no moonlight (these
nights are marked with black spots). The activity record appears to have diagonal
“stripes” of activity because the monkey was only active after the moon had risen each
night, and the timing of moonrise grows increasingly later during the lunar cycle.
(b) On a night when there was a lunar eclipse the owl monkeys’ activity decreased to
almost nothing. This meant that the monkeys’ activity was not controlled by a lunar
clock but instead was simply passively responding to overall moonlight levels
(masking).
374 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
the monkeys to make use of moonlight may have been a key adaptation for
them to exploit the nocturnal niche (Fernandez-Duque et al., 2010).
Previous studies performed in the laboratory on owl monkeys had sug-
gested that the monkeys were simply nocturnal with crepuscular activity
(Fernandez-Duque et al., 2010). In the wild, the story was clearly more com-
plicated. This appears to be true for many species: circadian behavior in the
laboratory may not reflect the function of activity patterns in the field. For
example, in my own research species, a small Chilean rodent called the degu
(Octodon degus), individuals in the wild are strictly diurnal—they never exit
their burrows at night. Nevertheless, their rhythms do shift in response to
many environmental factors. When it is hot during the summer, they restrict
their activity to the early morning and late evening when temperatures are
likely to be cooler. This shift in activity pattern is less likely to happen if the
animals have access to shade or a good food source (Hagenauer & Lee, 2008).
To the frustration of many researchers, when housed in a laboratory, degus
shift their time of activity dramatically in response to seemingly subtle changes
in housing conditions. For example, one of the easiest mechanisms for a circa-
dian biologist to measure the daily activity rhythms of laboratory animals is by
adding a running wheel to their cage and counting the number of wheel turns
occurring during any particular 10-minute interval. However, for the degu,
the addition of a running wheel to the cage can cause them to become almost
completely nocturnal. This huge switch in behavior puzzled researchers until
they considered the unnatural behavior of the animals in response to the run-
ning wheel. The degus found the wheels to be so compelling, they would run
the equivalent of a marathon each day (sometimes up to 700 wheel turns every
10 minutes)! Normally in the wild degus spend less than 2 percent of their day
engaging in running behavior. Thus, despite the fact that the degus were
housed under “normal” room temperatures, they were overheating from the
exercise. This caused their activity rhythms to take on an extreme “summer”
pattern, in which they shifted their activity to a time of day when their body
temperature was naturally lower (Hagenauer & Lee, 2008). Clearly it is
important to run both controlled laboratory studies and field studies to truly
understand a rhythm in animal behavior!
For fast developers (such as rodents) this means that mating, pregnancy, and
birth occur during the spring and summer months, whereas for slow develop-
ers (such as ruminants), mating occurs in the fall and the young are born in the
spring.
The timing of reproductive behaviors during the day also matters. In the
wild, mating is a relatively risky enterprise (imagine how vulnerable an animal
is to predators when engaging in a mating display!). To make the process as
efficient as possible, some species, such as nocturnal rodents, have a daily
rhythm that controls the time of day that females ovulate in response to high
estrogen. This rhythm ensures that the timing of ovulation is carefully coordi-
nated with the normal active period and mating opportunities. Likewise, birth
and lactation are also carefully timed (Mahoney, 2010). Therefore, even by
the first days of life an animal’s existence is already dictated by rhythms.
In order for the offspring to be prepared for this rhythmic world, circadian
rhythms develop during late fetal development. However, at the time of birth
in altricial species (a species that is born at a relatively early developmental
stage, such as humans and laboratory rodents) the SCN has not fully devel-
oped input connections from the retina or output connections to slave oscilla-
tors throughout the body (Weinert, 2005). For example, human infants show
low-amplitude temperature rhythms soon after birth, even when they are born
prematurely and maintained under the constant lighting of the intensive care
unit. However, their rhythms in sleeping and waking are not well established
until two to four months of age (McGraw et al., 1999; Mirmiran et al.,
2003). Young infants also need to eat frequently (every few hours) in order
to maintain rapid growth, so their sleep/wake cycle is not as consolidated as
it is in adults (i.e., sleeping is scattered in bouts across the day and night). This
lack of a consolidated, entrained rhythm of sleeping and waking in infants is
part of the reason why young parents get so little sleep.
This weak rhythmicity is a property of young laboratory rodents as well.
The SCN exhibits clock-gene rhythms several days before birth, but at birth
daily rhythms are still only weakly expressed in behavior and hormone secre-
tion. The retinohypothalamic tract is not fully developed, so daily rhythms
are not entrained by the solar day (the solar day is also questionably relevant
to the pups’ existence in a dark burrow!). Instead, the rhythms are entrained
by the pups’ interaction with the mother (dam), a process called maternal
entrainment (Weinert, 2005).
An extreme example of maternal entrainment comes from the rabbit (Oryc-
tolagus cuniculus). In the wild, female rabbits give birth to their pups in a sep-
arate nursery burrow away from the communal warren to keep them hidden.
In order to reduce the risk of predation, the mother only visits the litter once
376 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
per day for three to five minutes to allow the pups to nurse. During these few
minutes, the pups need to drink up to 20 or 30 percent of their body weight in
milk in order to survive. In order to start suckling immediately, the rabbit
pups within the dark burrow depend on their circadian clock to anticipate
their mother’s daily arrival. Twenty to thirty minutes before she arrives, they
arouse and uncover themselves from the nesting material in order to be acces-
sible (Jilge, 1993).
By the age of weaning, daily rhythms need to transition from maternal
entrainment to photic entrainment (entrainment by the solar day). For noc-
turnal rats and mice, this means a large transition in activity pattern. Up until
the point of weaning, the pups have been entrained by maternal rhythms to be
active during the day because the dam primarily nurses during the day and for-
ages at night. When the pups begin to leave the burrow to seek their own food
and water, the pups need to develop an adult-typical nocturnal activity pattern
to effectively forage and avoid predators (Thiels et al., 1990). As their growth
slows, daily rhythms in sleep and activity also start to consolidate into a more
solid rhythm, and the rhythms of slave oscillators throughout the body
develop an adult organization (Weinert, 2005).
In contrast, human children do not need to completely change their tem-
poral niche or chronotype (the time of day that they are active) at the time
of weaning, but they do undergo large changes in chronotype around the time
of adolescence. At this point, daily rhythms shift later so that teenagers have a
tendency to go to bed later and wake up later than children or adults (Figure
11.11). In our laboratory, we hypothesized that these changes were due to
pubertal hormones because they correlated with the timing of puberty (girls
showed changes in chronotype at a younger age than boys). Furthermore,
there was a sex difference in the magnitude of the changes: by the end of ado-
lescence, men were substantially more evening type than women. This sex dif-
ference diminished as chronotype drifted progressively earlier during the
rest of adulthood (Roenneberg et al., 2003; Carskadon et al., 2004). In sup-
port of the hypothesis that pubertal hormones drive these big changes in the
time of sleep and activity during adolescence, we showed that laboratory
rodents also show large changes in chronotype during puberty. By manipulat-
ing hormone levels using castration, hormone capsule implants, and chemicals
that inhibit hormone production, we were able to show that these adolescent
chronotype changes were due to the sex hormones testosterone and estrogen
(Hagenauer et al., 2011a, 2011b). Because of this growing evidence that ado-
lescent chronotype changes are a natural part of pubertal development, many
high schools in the United States are considering shifting their schedules later
to fit the later chronotype of adolescents. Policy changes of this sort are likely
A TIME FOR EVERY PURPOSE 377
Figure 11.11. Human chronotype changes with age (adapted from Roenneberg et al.,
2004). Individuals showed a transition into a more evening chronotype during ado-
lescence (ages 10–20 years), as determined by self-reported midsleep phase. This trend
then reversed for the rest of adult life. Males were more evening type than females
from the age of late puberty through menopause.
SEASONAL RHYTHMS
Thus far, we have discussed a variety of strategies adopted by animals to
meet the challenges of the daily cycle of day and night brought about by the
Earth’s rotation. Presenting perhaps an even greater challenge are the drastic
changes in the environment that occur across an entire year. Species living in
temperate climates must contend with seasonal variations in their environ-
ment, such as resource availability and ambient temperature. Many animals
378 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
attempt to survive the winter by reducing their body mass and suppressing
reproductive function so as to decrease the amount of food they require to sur-
vive (Hoffman, 1973). At the same time, they undergo a fur molt, changing
from dark gray in the summer to gray-white during the fall and winter. Unlike
the hibernation of ground squirrels, this process does not occur automatically
in constant laboratory conditions. Rather, the process of adopting the winter
phenotype only occurs when hamsters are exposed to short, winter-like day
lengths. Lighting conditions alone can induce members of this species into
shutting down their reproductive system and greatly reducing their body mass.
In order for animals to react to a photoperiod, they must have a means of
measuring the number of hours of light each day. Animals use the hormone
melatonin as a biological signal of the presence or absence of light. Melatonin
is produced in the pineal gland when an animal is exposed to periods of sus-
tained darkness and ceases during exposure to light. Thus, animals would
experience longer melatonin production each night during the long nights of
winter than the long days of summer. Animals that exhibit photoperiodism
use these melatonin signals to approximate the season and alter their physiol-
ogy accordingly. A unique aspect of this mechanism is that the duration of
melatonin production, rather than the amount of melatonin produced, is what
affects photoperiodic changes. This was demonstrated in a clever experiment
(Goldman et al., 1984) in which Siberian hamsters were infused with melato-
nin for several hours either in the middle of the night, when melatonin would
already be present, or a few hours before the onset of darkness, so as to artifi-
cially extend the length of time that melatonin would constantly be present.
While both of these infusions contained the same amount of melatonin, the
infusion delivered a few hours before the onset of darkness added to the overall
duration of the normal melatonin signal and caused the hamsters to suppress
their reproductive systems, but the infusion during the darkness had no such
effect because it only increased the amount of melatonin present but not the
duration of its presence in the body. Interestingly, even though the seasonal
clock is not located in the SCN, light information reaches the pineal gland
via a pathway that depends on retinal input to the SCN (Arendt, 2005).
Human beings in most of the world are insulated from much of the sea-
sonal variability in the environment. We have invented climate-control sys-
tems to keep ourselves cool in the summer and warm in the winter,
supermarket shelves are stocked with abundant food regardless of time of year,
and electric lights can allow us as many hours of light each day as we choose.
Despite this insulation, seasonal variability is still observed in a number of
traits in humans. In autumn months, people tend to eat larger, more calorie-
rich meals yet feel less satisfied than they would after eating a smaller meal
380 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
during the spring (de Castro, 1990). Although human beings are by no means
seasonal breeders, there is seasonal variability in human sexual behavior. Stud-
ies in the United States have observed that people are more likely to have their
first sexual experience (Rodgers et al., 1992) or engage in later sexual activity
(Udry & Morris, 1967) during the summer months. Seasonal affective disor-
der (SAD) is a mood disorder that causes depression-like symptoms during
one season (most commonly winter) of each year. Patients with the disorder
sometimes find relief in light therapy, in which exposure to artificial sunlight
is used to reduce the production of melatonin. These observational studies
cannot exclude the role of factors beyond the changing environment (such
as cultural influences) in driving these patterns of behavior, but it is nonethe-
less the case that human behavior is variable over the course of the year.
CONCLUSION
As you have seen, there is tremendous evidence that internal clocks are
essential for the functioning of ecological communities, internal physiology,
and human health. Therefore, it is ironic that now, at the beginning of the
twenty-first century, our economic and environmental policies are becoming
increasingly indifferent to the importance of daily rhythms. At this point in
history, the ubiquity of electrical lighting has made it so that more than 80 per-
cent of the population of the United States and 66 percent of the population
of the European Union are exposed to such severe light pollution that true
night is never really experienced. Under these conditions, the light pollution
mimics twilight and can suppress normal nighttime secretion of the hormone
melatonin (Navara & Nelson, 2007).
This excess of artificial lighting interferes with the partitioning of temporal
niches, such that visual predators develop an advantage at night, and the activ-
ity of nocturnal prey is suppressed. Light pollution allows crepuscular species
to extend their active period into the night. It can also interfere with the sea-
sonal timing of breeding because the artificially extended photoperiod mimics
summer-like conditions. Because of the importance of celestial light for navi-
gation, there is growing evidence that light pollution can disrupt the migration
of birds, butterflies, and eels (Navara & Nelson, 2007). Overall, though, we
are only just beginning to understand the devastating ecological consequences
of light pollution, and a great deal more research needs to be done.
Humans are not immune to the dangers presented by our own modern
lighting. Even while we seek medical cures for cancer, we blatantly disregard
the importance of our ancient internal rhythms for human health. There is
growing evidence that circadian disruption in the form of shift work or regular
A TIME FOR EVERY PURPOSE 381
transatlantic travel places individuals at much higher (3×) risk for various
forms of cancer (Navara & Nelson, 2007). Due to this evidence, the World
Health Organization has now listed shift work as a probable carcinogen, but
recent studies suggest that urban light pollution alone may be sufficient for
increasing the risk of breast cancer (Kloog et al., 2011). Many researchers
believe this increased risk of cancer is related to suppression of nighttime mela-
tonin secretion (Kloog et al., 2011). Melatonin is important for controlling
seasonal rhythms, as discussed earlier, but is also a potent antioxidant and
regulator of growth, metabolism, and immunity (Navara & Nelson, 2007).
Disrupted rhythms have also been linked to the development of depressive ill-
ness (McClung, 2007) and fertility problems (Mahoney, 2010). Despite these
known risks, businesses have been moving sales and manufacturing into the
evening hours to increase productivity and profit, such that now over 20 per-
cent of the urban workforce is exposed to shift-work conditions (Navara &
Nelson, 2007).
What can you do to help? The first step is to limit your use of light at night to
only that which is absolutely necessary. If you need to expose yourself to light
at night, try to make it a warm-colored light because both the circadian time-
keeping system and melatonin secretion are most sensitive to blue-green light
(this is because a large percentage of the retinal input to the SCN is via a spe-
cial photoreceptor called the melanopsin ganglion cell) (Morin & Allen,
2006). To protect yourself from blue-green light at night, you can download
software that automatically changes the intensity and color of your computer
monitor depending on the time of day at http://stereopsis.com/flux/. The sec-
ond step is to reduce light pollution from outdoor light fixtures by shielding
them so that the light emitted is focused downward, away from the sky. If
the lighting is meant to primarily serve security purposes, consider using
motion-sensitive lighting. If you want to learn more about how to reduce light
pollution and its ecological consequences, you can join the Dark Skies move-
ment at http://www.darksky.org/ or take part in a large global study of light
pollution at http://www.globeatnight.org/.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The authors would like to acknowledge Chelsea Anderson and Chelsea
Fournier for the construction of the figures. We are also deeply indebted to
Mary Ellen Hagenauer, John Basler, Maggie Elliott, and Jessica Koren for
their editing expertise. Finally, we would like to thank our funding sources,
including a trainee fellowship in Pediatric Endocrinology granted to the Uni-
versity of Michigan via the National Institute of Health (M.H.: #T32-
382 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
du Monceau, H.-L. D. (1758). La Physique des Arbres. Paris, FR: Chez H. L. Guerin
& L. F. Delatour.
Fernandez-Duque, E., H. de la Iglesia, & H. G. Erkert. (2010). Moonstruck pri-
mates: Owl monkeys (Aotus) need moonlight for nocturnal activity in their
natural environment. PLoS ONE, 5, e12572.
Globig, M. (2007). A world without day or night. Max Planck Research, 2, 60–61.
Goldman, B. D., J. M. Darrow, & L. Y. Yogev. (1984). Effects of timed melatonin
infusions on reproductive development in the Djungarian hamster (Phodopus
sungorus). Endocrinology, 114, 2074–2083.
Hagenauer, M. H., A. F King, B. Possidente, M. Y. McGinnis, A. R. Lumia, E. M.
Peckham, & T. M. Lee. (2011a). Changes in circadian rhythms during
puberty in Rattus norvegicus: Developmental time course and gonadal depen-
dency. Hormones and Behavior, 60, 46–57.
Hagenauer, M. H., J. H. Ku, & T. M. Lee. (2011b). Chronotype changes during
puberty depend on gonadal hormones in the slow-developing rodent, Octodon
degus. Hormones and Behavior, 60, 37–45.
Hagenauer, M. H. & T. M. Lee. (2008). Circadian organization of the diurnal cavio-
morph rodent, Octodon degus. Biological Rhythm Research, 39, 269–289.
Hastings, M. H. & E. D. Herzog (2004). Clock genes, oscillators, and cellular net-
works in the suprachiasmatic nuclei. Journal of Biological Rhythms, 19,
400–413.
Hoffmann, K. (1973). The influence of photoperiod and melatonin on testis size,
body weight, and pelage colour in the Djungarian hamster (Phodopus sungo-
rus). Journal of Comparative Physiology, 85, 267–282.
Jilge, B. (1993). The ontogeny of circadian rhythms in the rabbit. Journal of Biological
Rhythms, 8, 247–260.
Kloog, I., B. A. Portnov, H. S. Rennert, & A. Haim. (2011). Does the modern urban-
ized sleeping habitat pose a breast cancer risk? Chronobiology International, 28,
76–80.
Kronfeld-Schor, N. & T. Dayan, (2008). Activity patterns in rodents: The physio-
logical ecology of biological rhythms. Biological Rhythm Research, 39, 193–211.
Mahoney, M. M. (2010). Shift work, jet lag, and female reproduction. International
Journal of Endocrinology, 2010, 1–9.
McClung, C. A. (2007). Circadian rhythms, genes, and the biology of mood disor-
ders. Pharmacology and Therapeutics, 114, 222–232.
McGraw, K., R. Hoffmann, C. Harker, J. H. Herman. (1999). The development of
circadian rhythms in a human infant. Sleep, 22, 303–310.
Menaker, M. (1996). Colin Pittendrigh: 1918–1996. Nature, 381, 24.
Mirmiran, M., Y. G. H. Maas, & R. L Ariagno, (2003). Development of fetal and
neonatal sleep and circadian rhythms. Sleep Medicine Reviews, 7, 321–334.
Moore, R. Y. & V. B. Eichler (1972). Loss of a circadian adrenal corticosterone rhythm
following suprachiasmatic lesions in the rat. Brain Research, 42, 201–206.
Moore, R. Y. & N. J. Lenn (1971). A retinohypothalamic projection in the rat. Jour-
nal of Comparative Neurology, 146, 1–14.
384 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Morin, L. P. & C. N. Allen. (2006). The circadian visual system, 2005. Brain
Research Reviews, 51, 1–60.
Navara, K. J. & R. J. Nelson. (2007). The dark side of light at night: Physiological,
epidemiological, and ecological consequences. Journal of Pineal Research, 43,
215–224.
Pengelley, E. T., S. J. Amundson, B. Barnes, & R. C. Aloia. (1976). Relationship of light
intensity and photoperiod to circannual rhythmicity in the hibernating ground
squirrel, Citellis lateralis. Comparative Biochemistry and Physiology, 53a, 273–277.
Pittendrigh, C. S. & S. Daan. (1976a). Functional analysis of circadian pacemakers in
nocturnal rodents II: The variability of phase response curves. Journal of Com-
parative Physiology, 106, 253–266.
Pittendrigh, C. S. & S. Daan. (1976b). Functional analysis of circadian pacemakers in
nocturnal rodents IV: Entrainment: Pacemaker as clock. Journal of Compara-
tive Physiology, 106, 291–331.
Pizatto, L., T. Child, & R. Shine. (2008). Why be diurnal? Shifts in activity time en-
able young cane toads to evade cannibalistic conspecifics. Behavioral Ecology,
19, 990–997.
Ralph, M. R., R. G. Foster, F. C. Davis, & M. Menaker. (1990). Transplanted supra-
chiasmatic nucleus determines circadian period. Science, 247, 975–978.
Richter, C. P. (1965). Biological Clocks in Medicine and Psychiatry. Springfield, IL: C.
C. Thomas.
Rodgers, J. L., D. F. Harris, & K. R. Vickers. (1992). Seasonality of first coitus in the
United States. Social Biology, 39, 1–14.
Roenneberg, T., T. Kuehnle, P. P. Pramstaller, J. Ricken, M. Havel, A. Guth, & M.
Merrow. (2004). A marker for the end of adolescence. Current Biology, 14,
R1038–1039.
Roll, U., T. Dayan, & N. Kronfeld-Schor. (2006). On the role of phylogeny in deter-
mining activity patterns of rodents. Evolutionary Ecology, 20, 479–490.
Schmitz, L. & M. Ryosuke. (2011). Nocturnality in dinosaurs inferred from scleral
ring and orbit morphology. Science, 332, 705–708.
Schulkin, J. (2005). Curt Richter: A Life in the Laboratory. Baltimore, MD: Johns
Hopkins University Press.
Shigeyoshi, Y., K. Taguchi, S. Yamamoto, S. Takekida, L. Yan, H. Tei, T. Moriya, S.
Shibata, J. J. Loros, J. C. Dunlap, & H. Okamura. (1997). Light-induced
resetting of a mammalian circadian clock is associated with rapid induction
of the mPer1 transcript. Cell, 91, 1043–1053.
Silver, R., J. LeSauter, P. A. Tresco, & M. N. Lehman. (1996). A diffusible coupling
signal from the transplanted suprachiasmatic nucleus controlling circadian
locomotor rhythms. Nature, 382, 810–813.
Smale, L., T. Lee, & A. A. Nunez. (2003). Mammalian diurnality: Some facts and
gaps. Journal of Biological Rhythms, 18, 356–366.
Stephan, F. K. & I. Zucker. (1972). Circadian rhythms in drinking behavior and
locomotor activity of rats are eliminated by hypothalamic lesions. Proceedings
of the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 69, 1583–1586.
A TIME FOR EVERY PURPOSE 385
Figure 12.1. Migration tracks of bar-tailed godwits (redrawn after Gill et al., 2009).
Birds, both experienced and first-time migrants, depart south-southwest from the
Yukon Delta National Wildlife Refuge in Alaska and fly solo as much as 7,000 miles
nonstop to wintering grounds in the South Pacific. Some arrive in New Zealand
directly from Alaska, while others make brief stops in Melanesia. Nonstop flights are
shown as solid lines; dotted lines indicate routes after first landing.
solution, from simplest to most complex. But these categories are human con-
structs: animals in the field move smoothly between strategies as chance dic-
tates, blending two or more when appropriate and in some cases switching
their approach entirely with age and experience.
Table 12.1. Common orientation and navigation strategies (Gould & Gould, 2012).
Strategy Description
tension is seen between reductionists, who insist that all behavior is based on
simple stimuli and responses, and antireductionists, who see the programs
and processes of behavior as being so completely integrated that dissection
into constituent elements destroys the very thing being studied.
Reductionists and behaviorists alike were drawn to very simple accounts of
animal navigation (Fraenkel & Gunn, 1940). If a homing pigeon (Columba
livia) found its loft after being taken away 100 km and released, it was either
because it got lucky and stumbled across it after a random search or had zeroed
in on some mysterious cue emanating from home and tracked up the putative
gradient. In their view, animals mostly oriented directly to cues (a taxis) or at a
fixed angle to them (a compass response). Thus for taxis-based behavior, a
trapped honey bee will fly toward the light (positive phototaxis) while a star-
tled roach will run away (negative phototaxis). Direct orientation toward or
away from gravity, the wind, temperature, odors, and the like provided a sim-
ple machine-like account of animal actions. A moth tracking a pheromone
trail upwind is a classic example of a taxis-based homing response (Kennedy
et al., 1980).
In contrast to simple taxis-dependent behaviors, in which the organisms
move directly toward or away from a stimulus, however, animals can also
respond by altering their speed or the straightness of their path depending
390 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
on the strength of the cue. Bacteria, for instance, change their orientation
more often when a desirable stimulus is getting weaker, sampling new direc-
tions as conditions deteriorate. When things are improving, the organism
persists longer along its current route (Adler, 1976). This glorified getting-
warmer strategy, known as kinesis, produces directed movement only statisti-
cally; at any given moment the animal is in fact traveling at random.
While taxis- and kinesis-based movement sound simple, the reality is more
complex. The orientation of many animals, from microscopic copepods and
other zooplankton performing their daily vertical migration in the ocean all
the way up through birds and mammals, usually begins in advance of the sim-
ple cue that is supposed to trigger and guide the behavior (Haney, 1998). The
more we learn about animal navigation, the less simple taxis and kinesis seem
to account for the phenomena.
ANIMAL COMPASSES
A simple adumbration of the taxis-based strategy is for the creature to adopt
a fixed bearing relative to a cue—the compass response alluded to above.
Thus, for instance, a migrating bird might be programmed to fly southeast
in the autumn (and then northwest in the spring) as opposed to a simple north
or south track along the corresponding latitudinal gradient. Bees orient their
communication dances on a vertical comb to gravity in the darkness of the
hive but not simply to up or down (as would be the case for a taxis). Instead
they signal the direction of the food source with respect to the sun outside,
with the azimuth from the food to the sun translated into the angle between
the dance and vertical—a gravity-based compass orientation.
But there is more to it than this. Honey bees will orient their dances to the
sun directly if forced to dance on a horizontal surface; a bright light will do as
well. In these cases we might naïvely suppose that the animal treats the sun as
the dominant cue and maintains a fixed angle relative to this beacon as it trav-
els. The problem with this perspective is that the sun moves from east to west
over the course of the day. To fly a true compass direction, both birds and bees
must compensate for the sun’s changing azimuth direction and adjust their
bearings relative to it. Bees and homing pigeons alike can be clock-shifted—
forced to live for a time on a light/dark cycle out of phase with the outside
world, they eventually become entrained to an artificial dawn and dusk. When
tested, they act as though they believe the sun should lie in a predictable differ-
ent direction and thus depart reproducibly off course—90° for a six-hour
clock shift, typically. Most evidence suggests that these and other animals
learn the pattern of solar movement, interpolating and extrapolating as
GETTING THERE : ANIMAL ORIENTATION, NAVIGATION , AND MIGRATION 391
Figure 12.2. The sun’s arc at 42° north latitude (redrawn after Gould, 1982a). (a) The
path through the sky is shown for the summer and winter solstices. On all other dates
the arc is parallel to these two trajectories but somewhere in between. The time of
dawn and the maximum elevation of the sun are different each day. The consistent
features are that the sun is in the south and at its maximum daily elevation at solar
noon; noon occurs exactly halfway between dawn and dusk; and the angle between
the rising sun and the noon sun is identical to the angle between the noon sun and the
setting sun. (b) The rate of movement of the sun varies over the course of the day,
being highest at noon and slowest at dawn and dusk. The graph here is for the
summer solstice at 42° north; the curve is different for other dates and latitudes.
necessary, and recalibrate frequently to take into account the changing path as
the season wears on (Figure 12.2; Gould & Gould, 2012). Clearly compass
orientation need not be simple.
Most diurnal animals use the sun as their primary cue. When the sun is
hidden many are able to infer the sun’s location from the pattern of polarized
light in the sky—a pattern created by the interaction between sunlight and the
earth’s atmosphere (Brines & Gould, 1982). The light from the sun is unpo-
larized, but a photon scattering off an air molecule tends to become polarized
perpendicularly to the plane it is traveling in. Thus when an animal looks at a
point in the sky—say the zenith, directly overhead, and at noon, when the sun
is due south—a plane is defined by three points: the sun (the source of the
photon), the zenith (where the photon was scattered), and the eye of the
observer. The light reaching the animal from the zenith has a net polarization
orthogonal to this plane (oriented east-west in this example). Moreover, the
degree of polarization (ranging from 0 to nearly 100% in the UV) varies with
392 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 12.3. Pattern of polarized skylight (redrawn after Gould, 1982a). Allowing for
the difficulty of representing a hemisphere on a flat piece of paper, at any point
overhead the pattern of polarized light in a clear sky is perpendicular to the plane also
containing the sun and the observer. The circular bands of intensity (indicated here by
the thickness of the polarization lines) reflect the fact that the degree of polarization
depends on the angle of scatter, being strongest at 90°. This illustration represents the
sky at noon on the equinox at latitude 42°. The small circle in the lower right repre-
sents the minimum 10° circle of sky needed by honey bees to orient themselves.
GETTING THERE : ANIMAL ORIENTATION, NAVIGATION , AND MIGRATION 393
Reality is less wonderful. For one thing, a photon can scatter more than
once en route to the eye, particularly at low elevations; only polarization
well above the horizon is sufficiently reliable for orientation. Atmospheric
conditions—humidity, heat, and pollution—all increase this problem of sec-
ondary scattering. Organic compounds evaporated from leaves even tend to
rotate the polarization (again, a problem most evident at low elevations)
(Brines & Gould, 1982; Gould, 1982). Nevertheless, honey bees forced to
communicate on a horizontal surface and shown as little as 10° of blue sky
can accurately orient their dances to celestial cues, indicating that they are
inferring the azimuth of the sun with considerable precision (Gould & Gould,
1995). Birds too can orient to polarization patterns, and some nocturnal
migrants (for reasons of predator avoidance and the need to minimize over-
heating, most birds migrate at night) regularly use twilight polarization as their
initial cue before setting off on the evening’s journey (Gould & Gould, 2012).
Another widely used nocturnal cue is the pattern of stars overhead (Emlen,
1967a, 1967b, 1970). Many species appear to imprint as fledglings on the
stars, somehow ignoring the bright but fickle planets. The location of any
given star appears to change as the night progresses and the constellations
rotate about the pole point (marked by Polaris at the moment). Moreover,
each star rises ever later as the season slips by. Nevertheless, even without
learning to recognize Polaris, a bird can triangulate the pole point (and thus
true north—and, for that matter, compute its current latitude, which corre-
sponds to the elevation of the pole point). But because their initial imprinting
is in the spring, whereas the first migration occurs in the autumn when many
new constellations populate the sky, birds must recalibrate their mental pic-
tures of the heavens. Moreover, as a bird travels south, new constellations
appear above the southern horizon while some familiar ones disappear from
the northern sky. For transequatorial migrants, there may be a 100% replace-
ment of celestial markers. Evidence strongly suggests that recalibration occurs
frequently en route (Able & Able, 1990, 1995; Gould, 1995; Gould &
Gould, 2012).
Although any number of marine creatures use the lunar-based tidal cycle to
organize their activity, very few appear to treat the moon as a compass. Apart
from sandhoppers and distinctly nonmarine dung beetles, the moon itself
seems to be ignored. Alternatively, it may be researchers rather than navigating
animals guilty of overlooking this cue.
Celestial cues, whether diurnal or nocturnal, are useless under overcast con-
ditions. That bees and homing pigeons continue to navigate with eerie preci-
sion when the sky is obscured led some early researchers to suppose they
must be able to see through the clouds, perhaps in the mysterious ultraviolet
394 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
range. But the clock-shift tests mentioned earlier disprove this potential
explanation: while clock-shifted pigeons are reoriented during sunny condi-
tions, when released under overcast conditions they depart along the correct
(unshifted) bearing (Keeton, 1969). Clearly there is a backup system. For
nearly all animals, this secondary compass is magnetic.
There are two common types of magnetic compass. One, found in many
birds and some insects, depends on a paramagnetic interaction between light
and the pigment cryptochrome in the eyes (Gould & Gould, 2012). Crypto-
chrome absorbs blue-green light and is used by many organisms—plants
included—to set their circadian rhythms. This compass requires a minimum
level of light (about that of a quarter moon in a clear night sky) in the blue-
green range of the spectrum; under starlight or in red light, these animals are
disoriented. A curiosity of this paramagnetic phenomenon is that the response
is independent of polarity—that is, the organism cannot distinguish north
from south. It must instead depend on the inclination of the field (the angle
between the field lines and the surface of the earth) to identify the direction
of the pole. In the northern hemisphere, the inclination line is taken as signi-
fying north.
A different mechanism is found in fish, mammals, and certain insects; it
relies on magnetite crystals (Gould & Gould, 2012). (Magnetite-based organs
have another role in birds, described later.) In salmon, where the organ has
been characterized in detail, the magnetic grains are arranged in chains and
arrayed in a structure between the nasal cavity and the eyes. The same location
has high densities of magnetite in homing pigeons, dolphins, sea turtles, and a
variety of other migrants. A possible second detector is found in the lagena of
the inner ear (Wu & Dickman, 2011). An organ based on permanent magnets
does not fail in darkness and correctly distinguishes north from south. It is dis-
rupted by a high-intensity pulse of magnetic energy, a manipulation that
leaves cryptochrome-based systems unaffected.
For migrants, particularly those many species nesting in higher latitudes or
even the Arctic, a magnetic compass (whatever its physiological basis) is prob-
lematic. At most points on Earth, there is a discrepancy between magnetic and
true north—a difference that can exceed 45° in the Arctic. Moreover, this
declination generally changes with latitude. If the Earth’s magnetic field is
to be used as a compass, it must first be calibrated against true north. Humans
do this by observing the pole point (the location in the northern sky about
which the sun, polarization pattern, and stars appear to rotate), by taking the
sun’s azimuth at its highest elevation (solar noon) as true south, or by averag-
ing the sun’s azimuth at dawn and dusk to infer the noon azimuth. Whatever
strategy it uses, an animal traveling any significant distance will need to
GETTING THERE : ANIMAL ORIENTATION, NAVIGATION , AND MIGRATION 395
VECTOR NAVIGATION
Many migration paths (but not those of waterbirds, as we will see) seem to
involve two or more separate legs of compass orientation—the strategy known
as vector navigation. For example, a first-year red-eyed vireo (Vireo olivaceus)
flies southeast from its birthplace in northern British Columbia alone and in
the dark to (approximately) Tennessee or Kentucky, whereupon it steers south
to Central America, alters course to the southeast again, and continues on to
northern Brazil (Figure 12.4). Vireos from a population in southern Quebec
instead fly southwest to Tennessee or Kentucky and then pick up the trail
south. In the autumn, individuals in one population of garden warblers (Sylvia
borin) in northern Europe fly southwest, then southeast to northern Africa,
while those in another depart southwest, then turn southeast to the same des-
tination. A direct route would have taken them over the Alps. This pattern of
population-specific orientation is regularly seen in species employing just a
single-step compass strategy: members of one population of blackcap warblers
in Germany fly southwest to Spain in the fall whereas birds in another nearby
group set out (again, solo and at night) west to Wales (Gould & Gould,
2012).
Tests with birds raised in the lab from eggs taken from nests in the wild
show that these directional preferences are innate. In the case of the
Germany-to-Wales group mentioned above, the route is only about 50 years
old, the result it seems of one or more genetic mutations followed by intense
selection (Berthold et al., 1992). Also innate seems to be the birds’ knowledge
of when to turn, switching from one vector to another. Birds in cages during
the migratory season attempt to escape in the appropriate direction in the
night when their peers are flying in the wild. (Hybrids fly an intermediate
direction and distance [Helbig, 1991, 1996]). Experiments with vector migra-
tors indicate that they have two systems operating. The primary strategy
involves measuring latitude and comparing it with the inherited value in the
navigational program. This can be done by measuring the elevation of the pole
point, or (if the sky is cloudy) the magnetic inclination, which changes from
90° to 0° as one moves from the pole to the equator. A caged bird obligingly
reorients its fruitless departure attempts as the experimenter changes the
396 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 12.4. A dogleg route south (Gould & Gould, 2012). Many populations of red-
eyed vireos migrating to their wintering grounds from western Canada fly southeast
into the United States, then south to Central America, then southeast again into the
Amazon. Most populations from eastern Canada set off southwest, and then join the
main route in the south-central United States. (The Mercator projection used here
shows true compass bearings but progressively exaggerates distances and land areas in
more northerly regions.)
compass is the one the first-year birds seem to trust the most. If experimenters
prevent the nestlings from calibrating their magnetic compass to celestial bea-
cons prior to that first autumn journey, the birds simply fly south; this seems
to be the default fail-safe strategy for northern-hemisphere migrants. Another
change is seen when the birds return in the spring and is maintained in sub-
sequent trips: the vector strategy of first-years leads to relatively inefficient
curved paths on the globe as the animals persist along fixed bearings. (The
routes look straight on the well-known Mercator projection but deviate from
the “great circle” route, which is the actual shortest path, taking into account
the realities of spherical geometry.) During later redeployments the migrants
do indeed fly great circles. Apparently the birds learn (or, more likely, cali-
brate) the spherical optimization of the initial compass vectors. Quite possibly
they alter the turning and stopping points based on experience as well
(Wiltschko, 1991; Wiltschko & Wiltschko, 1995; Gould & Gould, 2012).
Tests with hand-reared nestlings show that while each population has its
unique set of vectors and latitude preferences (as well as departure dates), there
is a substantial degree of initial variation among individuals. Learning and
selection, each in their very different ways, shape the details of the routes
and timings in both the short and long terms (Davis et al., 2006; Pulido et
al., 2001; Pulido, 2007; Gould & Gould, 2012).
PILOTING
Many animals, humans included, rely on familiar landmarks or memorized
routes to move about in their home range. This local-area navigation is known
as piloting. It appears to go through two steps. At the outset individuals com-
mit to memory specific routes—from home to a particular food source, say.
The creature uses some mixture of visual, olfactory, auditory, and tactile cues,
depending on species-specific biases and the immediate contingencies of the
task. These various landmarks are remembered like pages in a multimedia
photo album, along with turning angles and intervening distances (though
perhaps not encoded in exactly this way) (Etienne et al., 1996; Gallistel &
Cramer, 1996; Wills et al., 2010). With sufficient information from land-
marks an animal can navigate locally without reference to a compass, though
it does seems to keep silent track of that information (Dyer & Gould, 1981).
In many species this route-specific navigation develops into a map-like repre-
sentation as the animal discovers the points where routes cross and begins to
create a mental representation of this web of paths. These creations are often
called cognitive maps and in vertebrates are stored in a specific structure in
the hypothalamus (McNaughton et al., 1996; Jacobs & Schenk, 2003).
398 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 12.5. Kidnapped-bee experiment (redrawn after Gould, 1986). Left: Foragers
visiting food station A were captured departing the hive and carried in darkness to
release site B. Right: When set free they circled and flew toward station A, hidden in
the woods. Also shown is the direction predicted if the foragers had left the release site
on the same bearing they adopted leaving the hive, and the orientation expected if
they had simply flown back to the hive to get their bearings.
Gould, 2012). This is a trick with enormous conservation potential for a select
few species.
Figure 12.6. Inertial navigation. In this example a sailor or animal sets off on a circui-
tous path involving a mix of three directions and three speeds. The navigator must
then determine the net displacement by integrating the apparent legs of the journey
(dark track) and then computing the homeward bearing and distance: 215° and 70 km
in the absence of errors. However, there is an undetected southward drift of 4.2 km/
hour, which gives rise to an actual route (gray line—“track made good”), for which the
correct homeward bearing and distance are quite different: 252° and 53 km.
largely (though not entirely) measure distance directly rather than as speed
multiplied by time. On the ground, ants (Wittlinger et al., 2006), crabs (Walls
& Layne, 2009), and humans (Mittelstaedt & Mittelstaedt, 2001; Durgin et
al., 2008) appear to count steps, having already calibrated their strides. In
the air and water, we expect by analogy that animals sum up wing beats and
tail strokes, though at present there is no direct evidence that they do so.
A basic lesson from work on inertial navigation is that animals employ the
strategy only when nothing better is available. On long-distance migratory
trips systematic and other errors accumulate to the point that geographical
precision is impossible. For these animals, midcourse and end-of-journey cor-
rections by means of a map sense (discussed next) solves the problem.
TRUE NAVIGATION
The ultimate goal for human navigators was true navigation—an ability to
determine global position. For our species the task is broken down into two
components for which we have no inborn gauge: longitude (east/west position)
and latitude (north/south location). Latitude is the lesser challenge (Gould &
Gould, 2012): the elevation of the pole point gives this value directly, so all
one needs is a stable base and a clear night sky (a surprisingly rare combination
of conditions for sailors), plus correction for the unexpectedly large parallax
effects in determining the horizon, which may be hazy or worse and is affected
by the observer’s height above the water. Latitude can also be inferred from
the sun’s elevation, though this requires correcting for the date (the sun’s arc
changes over a range of 47° over the course of the year), accurately judging solar
noon, and (of course) having a stable base and clear skies. As Edmund Halley
showed hundreds of years ago, the inclination of the earth’s magnetic field,
corrected at least roughly for location, can yield latitude regardless of weather.
Longitude is more difficult (Gould, 2008). Humans measure it by keeping
track of the time difference between a point of known longitude (ultimately,
Greenwich, England) and the current location (typically measured at solar noon
and correcting for the sun’s ephemeris—an irregularity caused by the earth’s ellip-
tical orbit around the sun). Clocks accurate enough for this strategy were not
affordably available about 200 years ago. Alternative methods used earlier involved
observing the eclipses of the moons of Jupiter or measuring the angle between the
moon and background stars (correcting for refraction effects at lower celestial eleva-
tions). Prior to that, the aptly named strategy of dead reckoning was the standard
approach. The problem of longitude for humans is summarized by the common
mantra “location is time.” Now, of course, atomic clocks on orbiting satellites deal
with this challenge for humans. Animals take one or more alternative approaches.
402 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Evidence that animals have a map sense came initially from homing pigeons,
where the accuracy of return in the absence of visual cues is an astonishing 2 to
4 km (Schmidt-Koenig & Walcott, 1978). It is clear now, however, that a sim-
ilar or identical ability is present in a variety of migrating or wide-ranging species
when subjected to similar displacement experiments. The animals are typically
captured during migration (when highly motivated to orient accurately) and
taken in sensory isolation to a new location often thousands of kilometers away,
generally well to the east or west of what is typically a north-south route
(Åkesson et al., 1995; Chernetsov et al., 2008; Thorup et al., 2007). Imagine a
test in which the birds were migrating south and were 1,000 km from their win-
tering grounds when intercepted (Figure 12.7). They are moved east 1,000 km.
When released, the birds might (1) continue along the vector they were flying
when captured (south), or (2) compute their present location and head back to
the capture point to pick up the journey where it was interrupted (west), or (3)
compute their current position and fly toward their original destination (south-
west). First-year migrants typically continue on their former bearing, basically
flying into oblivion (alternative 1—south in the example used here); experienced
birds set a novel course for their original target (alternative 3—southwest).
These results show that measuring local time within a few seconds is simply
not part of the animal solution to the problem. (And, indeed, the map sense is
unaffected by clock-shifting, an even more dramatic test.) Moreover, some-
thing important is learned (or calibrated) during the first autumn flight—
information that allows older birds to behave as though they have a map sense.
Many species will not orient correctly except during migration, so research has
tended to focus on those that are, for reasons best known to themselves, highly
motivated all year—notably homing pigeons, sea turtles, spiny lobsters, and
even newts.
It is important to realize that displacement tests cannot easily distinguish
between a true map sense—global position—and an ability to judge relative
location (distance and direction from home or the goal). In practice this dis-
tinction is not relevant to animals, but it has great theoretical import to
researchers. In my view, there is no convincing reason to believe animals know
global position, and several lines of evidence suggest that the relative-location
strategy is the approach they are employing (Gould & Gould, 2012).
The key questions are what cues are being used to judge position, how is
that information being processed, and what experience does to calibrate the
behavior. Already we have seen that a failure to distinguish between first-year
and experienced fall migrants will produce scattered and misleading data
because the two groups deduce quite different answers to the puzzle presented
by large-scale displacement. A similar pattern bedeviled homing-pigeon
research for years: younger birds gather orientational information during dis-
placement and rely mainly on their magnetic compass when set free; older
birds, on the other hand, deduce position once they are at the release site
and depend mostly on the sun as a navigational beacon (Wiltschko &
Wiltschko, 1985; Wiltschko, 1991). Using a mix of ages in a single release cre-
ated enormous confusion.
This change in the homing strategy is a result of experience. Birds that have
been more restricted in their flights around the home loft take longer to switch
over; those given extra training (a kind of environmental enrichment) mature
sooner; those not permitted to range outside the loft never grow up naviga-
tionally. This last highly unnatural protocol for rearing, which allows no
404 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
free-flight experience during the sensitive period for calibrating and switching
strategies, is the basis for a large group of otherwise well-controlled experi-
ments implicating odors blown in from distant sources as the basis of map
behavior (Wallraff, 2005).
For normally reared pigeons—those allowed to nest in colonies (aka lofts)
and fly about locally to forage—odors appear to be irrelevant under most con-
ditions; the surgical trauma involved in some tests seeking to obliterate the
birds’ sense of smell does have dramatic effects, and odors do have some sort
of activational effect on the true map system, however (Jorge et al., 2009).
While it is interesting that pigeons have a short-range olfactory backup system,
this seems largely unimportant in their normal lives after growing up under
natural conditions. Odor seems an unlikely cue to be relevant or useful to
long-distant migrants in determining position.
The most compelling hypothesis to account for the map-like ability of so
many animals imagines that the travelers use magnetic field cues. A long list
of indirect experiments implicated magnetic information in homing pigeons
as early as 1980 (Gould, 1980; Moore, 1980; Walcott, 1980); much more
has been written to fill out the story since (Gould, 1982b; Phillips, 1996;
Walker, 1998; Freake et al., 2006; Lohmann et al., 2007). Errors in initial
departure directions, for instance, are related to the gradient of the local field
(Keeton, 1973; Windsor, 1975) and change predictably during magnetic field
storms, when the earth’s field strength varies by 1 to 5 percent as a result of
sunspot activity (Keeton et al., 1974; Kowalski et al., 1988). These storms also
delay return times (Dornfeldt, 1996). Even a 5 percent change has no visible
effect on a magnetic compass, however. Most dramatically, pigeons released
on sunny days from sites of pronounced anomalies in the magnetic field fly
about almost at random until they are well away from the disturbance (usually
generated by large iron deposits underground), whereas at magnetically nor-
mal sites the birds leave well oriented toward home (Figure 12.8; Walcott,
1978).
If pigeons and long-distance migrants are using the earth’s field to place
themselves, how would this system work? Nearly all hypotheses converge on
the same two parameters and ontogeny of calibration (Gould & Gould,
2012). There are gradients in inclination (or vertical field strength, which
measures the same thing) and total field strength that run from pole to pole
but are not aligned with each other (Figure 12.9). In most parts of the world
they form a skewed grid. For a homing pigeon, measuring the direction and
slope of these two gradients would be crucial. This is probably part of what
they are doing in those several weeks of “play flights” that precede the shift
from using map cues gathered en route to a release site, as opposed to the
GETTING THERE : ANIMAL ORIENTATION, NAVIGATION , AND MIGRATION 405
Figure 12.8. Effects of magnetic topography. Total magnetic field strength is repre-
sented here as contour lines. The normal pattern in the northeastern United States
is a gradual increase in strength to the north-northwest. Left: At the iron mine the
pigeons are initially disoriented. Right: At Wooster, Massachussets, where the field is
relatively normal, departure bearings are far more accurate and consistent. The back-
ground field at both sites is approximately 50,000 gamma.
ability to deduce location once there. Thus an older bird at a release site would
measure inclination and total strength; extrapolating from the gradients at
home, the pigeon would infer its current location and thus the compass bear-
ing back to the loft. To the extent that the direction and slope near the loft are
not completely typical of the general pattern in the region, there should be sys-
tematic errors in initial orientation at the release site, and this is exactly what is
observed. As they fly back, the older birds should be able to take new map
readings and correct for these initial errors—again, pretty much what tracking
records show (e.g., Michener & Walcott, 1967). Irregularities at the specific
release site should introduce consistent departure errors—mistakes that will
be affected by field changes induced by magnetic storms (again, a pattern seen
in the literature). A variety of tests implicate the magnetite organ as the loca-
tion sensor (e.g., Munro et al., 1997).
For many years the debate about the map sense turned on these correlations
and several experiments that sought to interfere with magnetic-field detection
at the release site. More recently, however, direct tests have pretty much set-
tled the issue for a variety of animals (though not, for technical reasons,
406 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 12.9. Magnetic gradients (Gould & Gould, 2012). The gradients of total and
vertical magnetic-field intensity intersect at about a 30° angle in the northeastern
United States
includes vectors (bearings and distances), this will not normally be sufficient
for finding a localized target given the inevitable measurement errors and drift.
Could magnetic coordinates be innately encoded? This seems to be the case for
sea turtles in the Atlantic. Although they imprint on the magnetic parameters
of the home beach (enabling them to return to nearly the same exact spot years
later), their task for the first three years of life is to feed and mature within the
North Atlantic gyre in the Sargasso Sea.
Given the speed of the currents relative to the swimming ability of the
hatchlings and the fatal consequences of being swept along by any of the mas-
sive currents that diverge from the gyre, their survival strategy is to aim them-
selves into the Sargasso regardless of position. But the appropriate compass
angle varies over 360° as they move from Florida across the Atlantic, then
south along the north African coast, then west to the Caribbean, then north
to Florida. And yet the hatchlings, only a few hours old and in a featureless test
chamber surrounded by coils, reliably aim themselves into the gyre from any
plausible virtual location the researcher chooses to provide in the coils
(Fuxjager et al., 2011). This suggests that sea turtles have a set of innate mag-
netic coordinates which they use until they are old enough to exit the current
and take up coastal feeding as adults. For long-distance migrants flying their
first year to localized targets, a set of magnetic coordinates would seem a criti-
cal piece of information for arriving at their particular destination.
The possibility of a human map sense received a boost when Baker (1980)
reported that blindfolded students could point back to their college after trans-
port wearing blindfolds. Moreover, placing magnets on the forehead suppos-
edly interfered with this ability. Numerous subsequent tests (e.g., Gould &
Able, 1981; Fides et al., 1984) showed that this phenomenon disappears when
better controls are used. Unaided humans seem to be limited to local-area cog-
nitive maps and an ability to maintain a constant sun-compass bearing; some
recent work suggests an unconscious ability to compensate for the sun’s east-
to-west movement (Souman et al., 2009). Despite our many cultural and sci-
entific accomplishments, without a GPS or other elaborate navigational gear
our species is basically clueless when it comes to getting from here to there.
Fixed effects—Effects of a treatment that are assumed to be the same (fixed) in dif-
ferent studies and measured without error.
Focal animal sampling— Observations are limited to specific (focal) individuals (or
groups) for a specified period.
Follicle-stimulating hormone (FSH)—A hormone synthesized and secreted by the
anterior pituitary gland that regulates the development, growth, pubertal matura-
tion, and reproductive processes of the body.
Food chain—A linear sequence of links in a food web starting from primary pro-
ducers (e.g., plants) and ending at a species that is eaten by no other species in the
web.
Forager—A gene identified in Drosophila that encodes a cGMP-dependent protein
kinase (PKG) that affects food-searching behavior.
Forebrain—The most anterior of the three primary regions of the vertebrate brain
(telencephalon and diencephalon) that includes the cerebral hemispheres, the thala-
mus, and the hypothalamus; in higher vertebrates it is the main control center for
sensory and associative information processing, visceral functions, and voluntary
motor functions.
Free-running rhythm—A drift in activity rhythms under constant conditions such
that for a particular individual the activity cycle would start either progressively ear-
lier each day or progressively later.
Frequency—The number of occurrences of an event or the number per unit time
(rate).
Function—The way in which a behavior improves the survival and reproductive
success of the individual performing it.
Functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI)—An imaging procedure that mea-
sures brain activity by detecting associated changes in blood flow.
Functional relationship—A particular mathematical relationship between a depen-
dent (Y) variable and one or more independent (X) variables (Y is a function of X).
Game theory—A mathematical method for calculating success based on the choices
of others.
Genetic architecture—The underlying genetic basis of a phenotypic trait.
Genetic assimilation—The incorporation of environmentally induced changes in
phenotype into the genome.
Genomic imprinting—Only the maternal or the paternal genes are expressed.
Genotype by environment interactions (G×E)—The phenotypic effect that results
when the same environmental influences produce different responses from different
genotypes.
Germline-dependent epigenetic modifications—Changes in the epigenome that
have been incorporated into the germline.
422 GLOSSARY
Glial cell—A nonneuronal cell that maintains homeostasis, forms myelin, and pro-
vides support and protection for neurons in the brain and other parts of the nervous
system such as in the autonomic nervous system.
Glucocorticoid—A steroid hormone that regulates the metabolism of glucose.
Gonadotropin-releasing hormone (GnRH)—A peptide hormone that stimulates
the release of FSH and LH from the anterior pituitary gland.
Goodness of fit—How well a set of data conforms to an expected distribution of
values.
Gradient—A type of treatment in which values vary continuously over a range of
possible values.
Grasp reflex—Clenching of the fingers or toes on stimulation of the palm or sole;
normal only in infancy.
Group selection—A mechanism of evolution that relies on presumed advantages to
a group that are brought about by the differential extinction and proliferation of
groups.
Guided transmission—An increase in fidelity of copying of the behavior of a model
when the model provides explicit pedagogical cues.
Habitat—The area or environment where an organism or ecological community
normally occurs.
Habituation—The decline of a behavior with the repeated presentation of an elicit-
ing stimulus.
Hatching asynchrony—A pattern in which eggs in a brood do not hatch together.
Hawk strategy—In game theory, a strategy of always fighting (escalating).
Heritability (heritable variation)—The proportion of total variance in a trait that
can be attributed to additive genetic variance in that trait.
Heterospecific (interspecific) brood parasitism—A reproductive system in which a
species of animal (the parasite) uses a different species (the host) to raise its young.
Hindbrain—The most posterior of the three primary regions of the vertebrate brain
(rhombencephalon) that includes the cerebellum and medulla oblongata; controls
autonomic functions and equilibrium.
Homeorhesis—The stability of the process of development.
Homeostasis—The stability of a final steady state.
Hormone—A chemical released by a cell or a gland in one part of the body that
sends out messages that affect cells in other parts of the organism.
Huddle—A densely packed group of individuals.
Hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal (HPA) axis—A complex set of direct influences
and feedback interactions among the hypothalamus, the pituitary gland, and the
adrenal glands.
GLOSSARY 423
Repeated measures design—Use of the same subjects with every condition of the
research, including the control.
Replication—Using more than one subject per observation or experimental treat-
ment group.
Reproductive success—The relative production of fertile offspring by a genotype, or
the number of surviving offspring produced by an individual.
Retaliator strategy—In game theory, a strategy that displays against the dove strat-
egy but attacks (retaliates against) the hawk strategy.
Retinohypothalamic tract—A photic input pathway involved in the circadian
rhythms of mammals.
Rooting reflex—Head-turning and sucking movements elicited in a normal infant
by gently stroking the side of the mouth or cheek.
Rule-based solution—Use of one or more simple rules to reach a solution.
Rule of one variable—An experimental design in which the control and experimen-
tal treatments are identical except for the experimental manipulation, so that any
effect must be caused by the manipulation.
Rutting area—Location where male ruminant animals rub their antlers or horns on
trees or shrubs, fight with each other, wallow in mud or dust, and herd receptive
females together.
Scan sampling—A group of individuals being scanned at specified intervals and the
behavior of each individual recorded at that instant.
Seasonal affective disorder—A mood disorder that causes depression-like symptoms
during one season (most commonly winter) of each year.
Seasonal rhythm—Changes in activity that correspond with the seasons.
Sensitive period—A period during development when learning occurs.
Sensory nervous system—The part of the nervous system responsible for processing
information from sense organs.
Sexual selection—Differential reproductive success caused by competition for mates.
Signal—A trait (structure or behavior) that has evolved specifically because it
changes the behavior of a receiver in ways that benefit the signaler.
Sign stimulus (releaser)—The stimulus that releases the stereotyped actions of
animals.
Silencing—The switching off of a gene by a mechanism in the cell.
Simulation—A representation of key characteristics or behaviors of a selected
system, often requiring a computer (or network of computers) to run.
Social behavior—The interactions between two or more individual animals, usually
of the same species.
Social isolation—Lack of contact with other individuals of a social species.
GLOSSARY 431
Territory—A fixed area containing specific resources such as food, nest sites, or
mates from which one or more individuals exclude other members of the same
species.
Test of independence—A statistical method to determine if two categorical variables
are independent of each other.
Theriomancy—The use of animals in divination.
Timeless—A gene in Drosophila that encodes an essential protein (TIM) that regu-
lates circadian rhythms.
Tousling—When moorhen parents grasping a chick’s head, picking it up, and shak-
ing it vigorously.
Transcription—The process by which information on DNA is used to form mes-
senger RNA (mRNA).
Transcription factor—A protein that controls the flow of information from DNA
to mRNA.
Transcriptome—The set of all RNA molecules, including mRNA, rRNA, tRNA,
and other noncoding RNA produced in one or a population of cells.
Transgene coding—A gene or genetic material that has been transferred from one
organism to another.
Transgenic mice—Mice containing additional, artificially introduced genetic
material in every cell.
Translation—The process by which information on messenger RNA is used to
form protein.
Transport reflex—A young animal that is incapable of sustained locomotion adopt-
ing a posture that facilitates the mother’s ability to transport it.
Treatment effect—The amount of change caused by membership in a treatment
group compared to a control group.
Tropism—Growth or turning movement of a biological organism.
True navigation—Ability to use current global position to advance to a destination.
Two-action method—A procedure to test for social learning in which a demonstra-
tor individual performs a task in only one of two (or more) distinct ways.
Two-factor designs—An experimental design to assess effects of two treatments
(factors).
Type I error—The probability of incorrectly rejecting a statistical null hypothesis
(α).
Type II error—The probability of incorrectly accepting a statistical null hypothesis
().
Ultimate causation—The reason a particular behavior evolved, in terms of its effect
on reproductive success.
Umwelt—The biological foundations of an animal’s world.
GLOSSARY 433
Uniformitarianism—The assumption that the same natural laws and processes that
operate now have always operated in the past and apply everywhere.
Validity—The extent to which a measurement or method is accurate or correct.
Variable—A feature or factor that takes on different values.
Vector navigation—Migration paths that involve two or more separate legs of com-
pass orientation.
Verifiable—Ability to obtain identical or nearly identical results using the same
methods.
Waggle dance—A figure-eight dance of the honeybee that is thought to provide
information about the direction and distance to food, water, or potential hive
locations.
Wild type—The phenotype of the typical form of a species as it occurs in nature.
Working hypothesis—A provisional explanation of a biological phenomenon that
makes testable predictions.
Zeitgeber—An external cue that synchronizes an organism's endogenous clock to
the Earth’s 24-hour light/dark cycle.
This page intentionally left blank
About the Editors and Contributors
EDITORS
KEN YASUKAWA is Mead Family Professor of Biology at Beloit College and
Honorary Fellow in Zoology at the University of Wisconsin at Madison.
Using Niko Tinbergen as his model, he has studied the behavior and ecology
of birds and has focused primarily on the red-winged blackbird since 1973.
CONTRIBUTORS
JEFFREY R. ALBERTS is Professor of Psychological and Brain Sciences at
Indiana University in Bloomington. His research focuses on the ontogeny of
species-typical behavior, maturation of sensory and physiological processes,
and the development of learning and memory.
SEAN P. BRADLEY is a doctoral student and fellow in the Institute for Mind
and Biology at the University of Chicago. His research is focused on describ-
ing interactions between circadian rhythms, physiology, and behavior, with
special emphasis on the role of food in the entrainment of biological rhythms.
food choice to mate choice in animals as diverse as Norway rats and Japanese
quail.
ISBN: 978–0–313–39870–4
EISBN: 978–0–313–39871–1
18 17 16 15 14 1 2 3 4 5
This book is also available on the World Wide Web as an eBook.
Visit www.abc-clio.com for details.
Praeger
An Imprint of ABC-CLIO, LLC
ABC-CLIO, LLC
130 Cremona Drive, P.O. Box 1911
Santa Barbara, California 93116-1911
This book is printed on acid-free paper
Manufactured in the United States of America
Contents
INTRODUCTION
Why do horses sleep only 3 hours a day, while lions may sleep 18 hours? Why
do birds commonly sing at dawn rather than in the afternoon? Why are
chimpanzees violent and patriarchal in their social life, while the closely related
bonobos are peaceful and females dominate males? Behavioral ecology is the
science that seeks to explain the diversity in lifestyle we find in animals,
including the origins of our own human habits. Foraging plays a central role
in this: all of the above questions have been answered by referring to the forag-
ing needs of these respective species, demonstrating the central role that
finding food plays in the evolution of animal behavior.
Foraging in animal behavior research refers to finding and collecting re-
sources. Foraging for most animals is one of the most energetically costly
and risky activities, particularly if the animal has to leave its home or shelter
and cover great distances. Because of this, the requirements of foraging affect
many other aspects of an animal’s life. For example, plant matter has a much
lower energy density than meat, which means that herbivores, such as horses
(Equus ferus), may need to spend a lot more time collecting food than carni-
vores such as lions (Panthera leo), who can afford to spend a lot of time resting
(Lesku et al., 2009). Some animals have so little reserves that they have to
ration energetically expensive activities depending on the amount of food
2 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
found each day—this is thought to be the case for small birds in cold climates,
who can only afford to sing (to defend territory or attract mates) when they
have survived the night and find that they still have fuel left over, leading to
a dawn chorus (Hutchinson et al., 1993; Thomas, 1999). In the longer term,
adaptations to the necessities of foraging change a species’ overall life style. For
example, bonobos (Pan paniscus) eat leaves and shoots of plants, which are
common and easy to find. This allows groups of related females to stay together,
which led to the evolution of strong female-female bonds. Chimpanzees (Pan
troglodytes), on the other hand, mostly eat fruits and other foods that are patchy
in distribution and require travel—which disadvantages females with infants,
who travel slowly and thus have to search on their own if they want to avoid
arriving at a resource already depleted by others in the group. This may prevent
intense bonding and thus lead to the more patriarchal, aggressive societies we see
in chimpanzees compared to bonobos (Wrangham, 1993). Even our unique
human traits, such as large brains, cooperation, and trading, are thought to
depend in large part on novel foraging behaviors by early hominids (Pennisi,
1999; Boehm, 2004).
Foraging is among the best-studied animal behaviors, due to the fact that
foraging animals typically have to leave their shelter and move around, making
them more visible and susceptible not only to predation but also to research
(Kamil and Roitblat, 1985). The second advantage of foraging behavior, from
a research perspective, is that success or failure in foraging is more easily
defined and measured than in many other activities: a foraging animal collects
a food of a certain caloric value in a certain amount of time. This led to forag-
ing behavior being one of the first topics in which quantitative and predictive
models were used intensively. The field of modeling foraging behavior came to
be known as optimal foraging (Pyke et al., 1977; Stephens et al., 2007). The
fact that measuring foraging success seemed so straightforward allowed models
to actually predict optimal behavioral strategies in extraordinary detail. This
led to some criticism, as some felt that such precise predictions were unrealistic
or unhelpful (reviewed in Stearns & Schmid-Hempel, 1987; Raine et al.,
2006). However, all fields of studying animal behavior, and perhaps of organ-
ismal biology, have benefited from the idea that the “target” of selection,
or the optimal behavior, is not necessarily obvious to a casual observer and
can be derived quantitatively and objectively within given constraints. Much
of biology is now emulating similar approaches, trying to clarify precisely
which factors will drive evolution of organismal traits and in what directions.
These can be nonintuitive, particularly in cases where subtle differences in
assumptions can actually lead to differences in the direction of selection
(Kacelnik, 1993).
FINDING FOOD : FORAGING AFFECTS ALL ASPECTS OF AN ANIMAL ’ S LIFE 3
evolution will be able to lead to perfection (Gould & Lewontin, 1979). How-
ever, this is misunderstanding the aim of such models. First, without quantita-
tive models, we would not be able to determine whether a particular behavior
in fact is the one that, given certain constraints, is most likely to allow the ani-
mal to reach its goal. Second, models help in defining the problem (the
constraints and the goal) more sharply (Stephens et al., 2007). What is the
“goal” of any animal behavior? The behaviors that are most likely to persist in
a population are those that allow individuals to contribute maximally to the
genetic makeup of the next generation, largely by maximizing the number
of offspring produced. This is what we call evolution. There are many com-
ponents to this—finding and selecting a mate, avoiding predators and
diseases, finding shelter or otherwise dealing with the elements, and in many
cases establishing a place in a social community (Davies et al., 2012). But for
many animals, the amount of food collected is a limiting factor in how
many offspring can be produced. This means that behaviors that allow an
animal to collect more food often have a direct effect on fitness, enabling
researchers to employ the shorthand of using “food collected” or “food
collected per time” as so-called fitness proxies, that is, as the currencies that
animal behavior is adapted to maximize (Ydenberg & Hurd, 1998). Indeed
animals perform behaviors that we can only understand as strategies to
increase foraging success by just a few percent points; the existence of such
behaviors shows that evolution can lead to subtle adaptations and optimiza-
tion. It is important, however, to recognize the limitations of such fitness
proxies—primarily, that other aspects of the animal’s life are ignored for the
purpose of a particular study.
If an animal appears to behave in a way very different from the predictions
of a model, this may mean that the animal has not yet evolved the optimal
behavior. However, in many cases, it is likely to mean that we have not yet
properly understood which problem the animal is trying to solve: we may
not understand the constraints under which it is operating, or we may not
know the currency being maximized—for example, perhaps the animal needs
to avoid predators or attempts to find mates while foraging (McArthur et al.,
2012). Researchers now also study how the computational mechanisms that
enable animals to choose behaviors themselves evolve (McNamara & Houston,
2009; Fawcett et al., 2012a, 2012b). For example, this allows us to understand
predictable mistakes that result from applying a rule of thumb that provides the
best results when averaging over the situations the animal commonly finds
itself in but that may not appear optimal in a particular situation, or laboratory
experiment (Kamil & Roitblat, 1985; Stephens et al., 2004; Seth, 2007;
Houston, 2009). Interestingly, behaviors that are identified with such mental
FINDING FOOD : FORAGING AFFECTS ALL ASPECTS OF AN ANIMAL ’ S LIFE 5
foraging of course depend on the prospects for success, and many animals
innately prefer to forage when cues such as weather indicate that resources will
be plentiful. For example, desert ants are sensitive to overheating and will for-
age only under cool or moist conditions (Cerda et al., 1998). On the other
hand, ants can also learn to associate temperature with food (Kleineidam
et al., 2007). Many animals learn cues associated with resources, good foraging
conditions, or even sophisticated combinations; for example, bees learn not
only which areas are most profitable but also at what times of day which loca-
tions are most likely to provide food. They can even learn how likely it is that
resources will change in profitability, that is, learn when it is worth learning
(Dornhaus & Franks, 2008).
Whether a particular animal attends to environmental cues in its decision
to forage should depend on how much these cues predict foraging success.
For example, the availability of edible leaf material will not change in the short
term for a caterpillar sitting on a plant, but the availability of nectar in flowers
changes quickly and drastically with the time of day and weather, making it
useful for bees to attend to such cues. Whether a particular cue provokes an
innate response or is only used after the animal has learned to associate it with
foraging success depends on how predictable its effects are over the long term
(Dunlap & Stephens, 2009). The life cycle and circadian rhythm of specialist
cactus bees, which forage on the flowers of a particular cactus, are adapted to
the timing of nectar availability in this plant (McIntosh, 2005). The timing
of foraging in generalist honey bee foragers, on the other hand, is flexible
and is shaped by the bees’ experience with the nectar availability of plants in
the current season and site. This difference between specialist and generalist
foragers has wide-ranging consequences for species resilience under environ-
mental change.
The benefits of foraging depend not only on the expected returns but also
on how the food is used. Is food necessary to satisfy the immediate energy needs
of the animal, is it stored for future need, or is it fed directly to offspring or other
individuals? If food collected is used primarily for provisioning, that is, stored
or provided to other individuals, then foragers may attempt to minimize ener-
getic expenditure of foraging because any food used up for the foraging activity
itself will not be available to provision. When just foraging for themselves,
however, animals may behave so as to maximize daily gain without regard
for how much is spent attaining it (Ydenberg et al., 1994). For example, the
sooty shearwater (Puffinus griseus), a seabird, may travel 1,500 km from its nest
to catch fish in productive waters to maximize its own energy gain, but when
feeding chicks will often perform short trips, which lead to less expensive travel
but are less productive (Weimerskirch, 1998).
FINDING FOOD : FORAGING AFFECTS ALL ASPECTS OF AN ANIMAL ’ S LIFE 7
Do animals ever have “enough food”? The idea that foraging behavior may
not so much evolve to maximize food collected as ensure that a certain mini-
mum food requirement is met has been called satisficing in foraging research
and has been somewhat controversial (Nonacs & Dill, 1993; Ydenberg &
Hurd, 1998). It seems obvious from observation that many animals spend a
lot of time in inactivity when they could be collecting more food—remember
the sleeping lions mentioned earlier in this chapter. However, evolutionary
considerations suggest that only if additional food can be converted into off-
spring or stored as a buffer against lean times, it should be collected regardless
of current energy requirements. Indeed, many cases of inactivity are explained
by the fact that either another factor limits reproduction in the long term or
that current energetic costs of foraging exceed its benefits (Herbers, 1981).
For example, there may be limits to the speed with which food can be digested
or processed (Burd & Howard, 2005). Alternatively, if there is temporal varia-
tion in food availability and food cannot be stored, how many offspring can be
raised may be limited by the minimum amount of food that can always be
collected; in brief periods of food abundance, an animal would then appear
to forage less than expected compared to food availability simply because not
enough offspring are present to consume this food. Overall, however, the fact
remains that animals vary in the degree to which they display inactivity
(Careau et al., 2008) or sleep (Lesku et al., 2009), and that the function of
neither is completely understood (Cirelli & Tononi, 2008).
FINDING FOOD
Once an animal has decided to forage, it has to actually locate its prey or
food source. The pattern in which animals search is thought to resemble a
random walk, in which each new step is in a new, random direction. “Corre-
lated” random walks imply that the new direction is affected by the previous
direction, usually such that the animal is more likely to keep a straight heading
rather than choosing a particular different direction. Even within these
assumptions of a seemingly mindless search algorithm, a search path can be
optimized for the presumed density and clumping of food sources (Nathan
et al., 2008; Sims et al., 2008). However, many animals usually forage in a
known area and may return to previously profitable locations or travel along
known paths (called traplines). For example, bumble bees tend to visit several
known profitable flowers in a fixed sequence (Thomson, 1996). These bees are
doing multiple foraging trips in a row, and the traplining strategy evens out
the time intervals after each flower is revisited. It turns out that this is the opti-
mal strategy for resources that slowly but at a constant rate renew themselves,
8 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
activities. If it does this after every trip, it is central-place foraging (Orians &
Pearson, 1979); other animals have no fixed home base and instead roam
widely within a home range or over large distances (Hays et al., 2006). When
to stop foraging in a patch is a decision that depends largely on how the rate of
acquiring food from the patch changes over time and how long the forager has
to travel between the food patch and its home base. If the food source provides
decreasing marginal returns, that is, it becomes harder and harder to extract
food, the forager will eventually leave it to find a new, fresh resource, possibly
well before it has collected all it can (see discussion on partial loads above).
How foragers navigate the route back to their nest or among foraging patches
is another interesting research area that is discussed in Volume 1, Chapter 12.
EXTRACTING REWARD
So far, we have mostly discussed how to find and recognize food and how
to decide whether to attack it—whether it is a prey animal or a plant or any-
thing else. However, actually capturing the prey and extracting the food
reward can be a challenge in itself and may be a stereotyped behavior or exhibit
a high degree of innovation; it may also involve sophisticated behavioral
sequences, whether innate or learned. Consider the emerald cockroach wasp
(Ampulex compressa [Fouad et al., 1996; Libersat, 2003]). The wasp needs live
but subdued insect prey to feed to her developing offspring. The female will
hunt for cockroaches and, once they are found, sting into the brain of the
roach precisely in the suboesophagal ganglion. This, apparently, turns the
roach into the wasp’s puppet zombie! The roach appears to lose all will of its
own and is guided—live and able to walk—to its doom in the form of the
wasp’s nest and her larvae (Libersat et al., 2009). This foraging strategy on
the part of the wasp is not only surprising and unique, it is also fairly complex
but very likely completely genetically determined. Many other animals, on the
other hand, have been shown to learn, and even pass on to others in a type of
culture, particular foraging strategies useful in a local area (Volume 1, Chapter
4). For example, dolphins off the coast of western Australia have been shown
to harvest cup-shaped sponges to use as a “glove” over their sensitive snouts
when digging on the sea floor (Krutzen et al., 2005); great tits (Parus major)
famously learned to open milk bottles with aluminum caps left on British
doorsteps (Fisher & Hinde, 1949; Lefebvre, 1995); and apes such as chimpan-
zees and orangutans have been shown to master a variety of tool-using tech-
niques in foraging, from cracking nuts with wooden hammers and anvils to
fashioning spears for hunting monkeys (Whiten et al., 1999; van Schaik et
al., 2003). Why do some animals have such sophisticated, flexible foraging
12 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
strategies? It was long thought that carnivores, hunting for live animal prey,
needed to be particularly clever and perhaps had evolved more cognitive and sen-
sory abilities as a result. However, the evidence for this is not clear (Garamszegi
et al., 2002). On the other hand, it seems that innovative foraging behavior
enables some animals to invade new habitats more easily (Sol et al., 2002).
SOCIAL FORAGING
Many animals do not just rely on their own skills and experience to find
and identify palatable and profitable food sources (Galef & Giraldeau, 2001;
Laland, 2004; see also Volume 1, Chapter 4). For example, many birds will
closely watch others in the flock searching for seeds on the ground; if another
bird appears to have found something, they will then quickly join it to exploit
that same resource. This strategy has been termed “scrounging” (as opposed to
“producing,” which refers to birds searching for food themselves) (Giraldeau
et al., 1994). Bees may also watch conspecifics choose flowers and instead of
attempting to use the exact same flower may use this public information to
pick other flowers of that same color (instead of using private information,
or sampling many flower types themselves to determine which species provide
the most nectar) (Leadbeater & Chittka, 2007). Rats are known to learn the
scent of palatable food from the smell at the mouth of other rats, enabling
them to quickly spread information about novel food types in their group
(Galef, 2009). Cliff swallows, and other birds that nest in large groups, will
watch for other birds returning with a mouthful of insects; if they spot one,
they will follow it out to the presumably profitable hunting grounds (Brown,
1988). If information is exchanged at a nest site or colony as in this case, the
colony is referred to as information center. In all these examples, individuals
are using cues gained simply by observing behavior of other foragers; the pro-
ducers of that information do not behave in such a way as to improve the
information exchange. However, many cooperative group-living animals also
purposefully exchange information in the form of signals (Seeley, 1998):
honey bees signal the direction and distance of flower patches in the “waggle
dance” (Gruter & Farina, 2009), some ants lay pheromone trails to lead nest-
mates to food sources (Hölldobler & Wilson, 1990), other ant species teach
(facilitate learning by others at a cost to themselves) their nestmates the route
to food by leading them in a tandem run to it (Richardson et al., 2007;
Hoppitt et al., 2008). Highly cooperative groups may also improve their for-
aging efficiency in other ways, such as by employing division of labor (Powell
& Franks, 2006; Burns & Dyer, 2008); sometimes this even occurs in non-
cooperating groups (Giraldeau & Lefebvre, 1986).
FINDING FOOD : FORAGING AFFECTS ALL ASPECTS OF AN ANIMAL ’ S LIFE 13
Interestingly, both the explicit signals and the cues generated by foragers
may also be exploited by animals from other species (Coolen et al., 2003).
In addition, many organisms rely partially or completely on other species to
aid them in food acquisition—such interactions are termed mutualisms (Sachs
& Simms, 2006; Aanen & Hoekstra, 2007). For example, plants provide all
food for bees and many other pollinators (nectar and pollen) and gain pollina-
tion services in return. Plants also provide food in return for protection from
herbivores, such as to many ants, which feed on extrafloral nectaries. Corals
are colonies of polyps (cnidarian animals) that rely on their algal symbionts
to generate nutrients by photosynthesis. Such algal symbionts are also present
in several other animals and even fungi: lichens are the result of such a fungal-
algae cooperation. Cleaner fish rely on larger fish, called clients, to come to
their “cleaning station,” where the cleaner fish eats both parasites on the skin
as well as sometimes the skin of the client—a very interesting interaction with
subtle choices made by both clients and cleaners about whom to pick and
whom to pick on (Barbu et al., 2011). Such mutualisms are quite common,
and in fact all of us carry many microorganisms, which are relying on us for
food and shelter. Some of them help us digest complex foods, some crowd
out harmful bacteria (e.g., Li et al., 2008). And each animal cell contains mito-
chondria, which are often called the power plants of the cell but used to be
free-living bacteria. These were engulfed by an early eukaryotic cell, starting
a cooperation based on mutual exchange of nutrients and initiating the evolu-
tion of complex life on earth (Dyall et al., 2004).
INDIVIDUAL TASTES
We sometimes like to think that each human is particularly unique because
we all come with our own personalities, preferences, and behavioral idiosyn-
crasies. This is so; but it turns out that this is also true for probably all other
animals (Dall et al., 2012; Sih et al., 2004). Some individual fish are bolder
than others of the same species, seeming to taunt predators (Ward et al.,
2004); some spiders are more aggressive to both their mates and enemies than
others (Pruitt et al., 2008); some bumble bees will only forage on purple flow-
ers while their own sisters prefer other flower types (Raine & Chittka, 2007).
These “animal personalities” at first seemed strange to scientists: after all, there
must be one optimal strategy, and why would any individuals stray from it?
However, we now understand that personalities, stable behavioral differences
among individuals of the same species, can evolve for many reasons. For exam-
ple, herbivores need to not only ingest enough of all necessary nutrients but
also avoid accumulating toxins (practically all plants produce toxins to deter
14 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
humans) in a single trip but return home after each excursion to share their
food (Seeley, 1985). Chimpanzees may or may not share food but will copy
each other’s sophisticated techniques for extracting it. Birds may not search
for food at all but follow others to take it from them when they have located
any. Snakes and spiders often gain enough nutrients in a single meal that they
can afford to be inactive for weeks or months afterwards; hummingbirds and
bats must find food every day or risk starvation; and sloths must spend practi-
cally all their waking time eating to be able to extract enough nutrients from
their hard-to-digest food. These are examples of the amazing diversity of life-
styles and diets in animals. Behavioral ecology, as a science, attempts to
explain why this diversity exists, that is, which factors led to the evolution of
different foraging strategies in different animals (Davies et al., 2012). Experi-
ments in which the behavior of the animal or its food source is manipulated
can show which foraging strategy performs best under particular conditions.
Comparative studies, in which the foraging strategies of several species of ani-
mal are compared and related to other factors such as habitat type, body size,
and so forth, can show which of these factors appear to have affected the evo-
lution of particular foraging behaviors historically. Modeling studies can give
precise predictions of how subtle adaptations may affect foraging success.
The insights gained from this research have direct and practical applications,
for example in the management of grazing animals (Provenza et al., 2003) or
pollination of crops (Weinberg & Plowright, 2006). But we have also learned
that the beautiful variety seen in nature of animal lifestyles, cognition, and
social behavior can only be understood if we understand the foraging habits
of these species.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like thank the NSF (grants IOS-1045239 and IOS-0841756) for
support.
Seth, A. K. (2007). The ecology of action selection: Insights from artificial life. Philo-
sophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London, B, 362, 1545–1558.
Shafir, S., T. A. Waite, & B. H. Smith. (2002). Context-dependent violations of
rational choice in honeybees (Apis mellifera) and gray jays (Perisoreus canaden-
sis). Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 51, 180–187.
Sih, A., A. Bell, & J. C. Johnson. (2004). Behavioral syndromes: An ecological and
evolutionary overview. Trends in Ecology and Evolution, 19, 372–377.
Sih, A. & B. Christensen. (2001). Optimal diet theory: When does it work, and when
and why does it fail? Animal Behaviour, 61, 379–390.
Sims, D. W., E. J. Southall, N. E. Humphries, G. C. Hays, C. J. A. Bradshaw, J. W.
Pitchford, A. James, M. Z. Ahmed, A. S. Brierley, M. A. Hindell, D. Morritt,
M. K. Musyl, D. Righton, E. L. C. Shepard, V. J. Wearmouth, R. P. Wilson,
M. J. Witt, & J. D. Metcalfe. (2008). Scaling laws of marine predator search
behaviour. Nature, 451, 1098–1102.
Skelhorn, J. & C. Rowe. (2010). Birds learn to use distastefulness as a signal of toxic-
ity. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 277, 1729–1734.
Smeulders, A. W. M., M. Worring, S. Santini, A. Gupta, & R. Jain. (2000). Content-
based image retrieval at the end of the early years. IEEE Transactions on Pattern
Analysis and Machine Intelligence, 22, 1349–1380.
Sol, D., S. Timmermans, & L. Lefebvre. (2002). Behavioural flexibility and invasion
success in birds. Animal Behaviour, 63, 495–502.
Stamps, J. A. (2007). Growth-mortality tradeoffs and “personality traits” in animals.
Ecology Letters, 10, 355–363.
Stearns, S. C. & P. Schmid-Hempel. (1987). Evolutionary insights should not be
wasted. Oikos, 49, 118–125.
Stephens, D., J. S. Brown, & R. C. Ydenberg. (2007). Foraging: Behavior and Ecology.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Stephens, D. W., B. Kerr, & E. Fernández-Juricic. (2004). Impulsiveness without dis-
counting: The ecological rationality hypothesis. Proceedings of the Royal Society
of London, B, 271, 2459–2465.
Stevens, J. R., E. V. Hallinan, & M. D. Hauser. (2005). The ecology and evolution of
patience in two new world monkeys. Biology Letters, 1, 223–226.
Stoddard, M. C. (2012). Mimicry and masquerade from the avian visual perspective.
Current Zoology, 58, 630–648.
Thomas, R. J. (1999). Two tests of a stochastic dynamic programming model of daily
singing routines in birds. Animal Behaviour, 57, 277–284.
Thomson, J. D. (1996). Trapline foraging by bumblebees: I. Persistence of flight-path
geometry. Behavioral Ecology, 7, 158–164.
van Schaik, C. P., M. Ancrenaz, G. Borgen, B. Galdikas, C. D. Knott, I. Singleton, A.
Suzuki, S. S. Utami, & M. Merrill. (2003). Orangutan cultures and the evolu-
tion of material culture. Science, 299, 102–105.
Varju, D. & J. Núñez. (1991). What do foraging honeybees optimize? Journal of
Comparative Physiology A: Sensory, Neural, and Behavioral Physiology, 169,
729–736.
22 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Varju, D. & J. Núñez. (1993). Energy balance versus information exchange in forag-
ing honeybees. Journal of Comparative Physiology A: Sensory, Neural, and
Behavioral Physiology, 172, 257–261.
Wajnberg, E. (2012). Multi-objective behavioural mechanisms are adopted by forag-
ing animals to achieve several optimality goals simultaneously. Journal of Ani-
mal Ecology, 81, 503–511.
Ward, A. J. W., P. Thomas, P. J. B. Hart, & J. Krause. (2004). Correlates of boldness
in three-spined sticklebacks (Gasterosteus aculeatus). Behavioral Ecology and
Sociobiology, 55, 561–568.
Waser, N. M., L. Chittka, M. V. Price, N. Williams, & J. Ollerton. (1996). Generali-
zation in pollination systems, and why it matters. Ecology, 77, 1043–1060.
Weimerskirch, H. (1998). How can a pelagic seabird provision its chick when relying
on a distant food resource? Cyclic attendance at the colony, foraging decision
and body condition in sooty shearwaters. Journal of Animal Ecology, 67,
99–109.
Weinberg, D. & C. M. S. Plowright. (2006). Pollen collection by bumblebees
(Bombus impatiens): The effects of resource manipulation, foraging experience
and colony size. Journal of Apicultural Research, 45, 22–27.
Whiten, A., J. Goodall, W. C. McGrew, T. Nishida, V. Reynolds, Y. Sugiyama, C. E.
G. Tutin, R. W, Wrangham, & C. Boesch. (1999). Cultures in chimpanzees.
Nature, 399, 682–685.
Wolf, T. J. & P. Schmid-Hempel. (1989). Extra loads and foraging life span in
honeybee workers. Journal of Animal Ecology, 58, 943–954.
Wrangham, R. W. (1993). The evolution of sexuality in chimpanzees and bonobos.
Human Nature: An Interdisciplinary Biosocial Perspective, 4, 47–79.
Ydenberg, R. & P. Hurd. (1998). Simple models of feeding with time and energy
constraints. Behavioral Ecology, 9, 49–53.
Ydenberg, R. C., C. V. J. Welham, R. Schmid-Hempel, P. Schmid-Hempel, & G.
Beauchamp. (1994). Time and energy constraints and the relationships
between currencies in foraging theory. Behavioral Ecology, 5, 28–34.
2
the area, making escape a difficult proposition. Becoming visibly agitated, she
expels air through her nose loudly, stomping her right foreleg on the earth.
Her tail flags back and forth. The heads of four other deer in the vicinity
pop up from the vegetation—two adult females and their fawns. Cuing in to
what this deer is staring at, they join in, staring into the bushes, snorting,
and footstamping. She takes a few steps toward the bushes to try to get a better
look, stomping and snorting frequently.
The noise and movement of the deer have made it clear to the cougar that
he has been spotted and has lost a possible meal. With his quarry on high alert,
there is no way to use stealth to get close enough to have any chance of a suc-
cessful attack. The shadowy figure moves away and disappears deep into the
brush.
After several minutes, the collective snorts become softer and the deer
begins to move off to forage in a nearby wooded area that might offer more
concealment. She has survived another evening but will probably avoid this
area for a while.
This vignette of a dangerous encounter between a black-tailed deer (Odo-
coileus hemionus hemionus) and a cougar (Puma concolor), while somewhat
anthropomorphic and dramatized, illustrates the dynamic interplay of behav-
ioral decisions that both predators and prey must make when they encounter
each other. Very few encounters result in attacks and captures by predators,
so a large volume of literature has examined the roles of behavioral decision
making and morphological adaptations that help prey reduce the probability
of being captured by predators and help predators increase the probability of
successfully acquiring a meal.
Several behavioral scientists have developed frameworks for conceptualizing
the diversity and functions of antipredator behaviors. Steve Lima and Law-
rence Dill (1990) developed an attack sequence for predator-prey encounters
that compartmentalizes behavioral decisions that each party must make at
each step, resulting in a probability of death given an encounter situation.
A modified form of this flow chart appears in Figure 2.1a. Briefly, they
divide the interaction into four main steps: encounter, detection, attack, and
capture/escape. Because there are many possible nonlethal outcomes of the
interaction, often only a small proportion of all encounters lead to prey death.
This is a useful framework to build from because it nicely illustrates the differ-
ent opportunities each party has to either halt the sequence from leading to
death (in the case of the prey) or push the sequence forward toward prey death
(in the case of the predator), and there are many behavioral decisions and
morphological adaptations that help both parties in their cause. To this end,
R. Brian Langerhans (2007) presented a different type framework for studying
PREDATION AND ANTIPREDATOR BEHAVIOR 25
such antipredator traits in terms of how they affect prey fitness (Table 2.1).
His brief review of antipredator adaptations examines the myriad of ways ani-
mals seek to avoid encountering predators, avoid a predator’s detection, and
deter attacks and consumption by predators.
In this chapter, I modify the Lima and Dill (1990) sequence, adding several
new intermediate steps, and integrate Langerhans’s (2007) trait-based
approach to develop a comprehensive framework that demonstrates the
opportunities for natural selection to shape both prey and predator traits that
enhance fitness over the course of the predator-prey encounter sequence. In
Figure 2.1b, recognition has been added to the detection phase to emphasize
the fact that often an animal may detect the presence of another animal
26 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 2.1b. Framework used in this chapter to demonstrate the myriad of ways that
natural selection can shape assessment, behavioral decisions, and morphology in
predators and prey.
Table 2.1. Redrawn and edited from Langerhans (2007), this is a framework for
understanding how antipredator traits affect direct fitness and survivorship,
organized by the chronological stage of the predatory encounter in which they are
employed. Some prey traits listed in the table are not discussed in this chapter.
ASF: avoiding a predator’s sensory field; DSF: avoiding detection within a preda-
tor’s sensory field; ATD: attack deterrence; CPD: capture deterrence; CND:
consumption deterrence.
How the antipredator trait directly enhances
individual survivorship and fitness
single interaction. From the perspective of each party, the opponent is not a
static, predictable automaton, but instead each party alters its behavior based
on its opponent’s behavior, the environmental situation, its own physical sta-
tus, and its past experience with its opponent’s species. New and important
model systems of predator-prey study will be highlighted throughout the
chapter to illustrate the past, present, and future of this exceptionally vibrant
field of study. Finally, it should become clear by the end of this chapter that
future studies of predator-prey interaction should focus on the behavioral
28 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
ENCOUNTER
In order for the attack sequence to even begin and for there to be any pos-
sibility of death for an animal, the predator and prey must come near enough
to each other for the possibility of detection to occur. From the perspective of
prey, they behave to minimize the probability that they will encounter poten-
tial predators, while hungry predators will behave to maximize this possibility.
Strategies vary from selecting permanent home ranges or habitat types with
more prey or fewer predators, to coordinated hunting or foraging trips by
predators, to, as is detailed below, daily or seasonal migrational patterns.
Many species move around in their habitat to change the probability of
coming within a detectable distance of predators or prey, and these cyclic
migrations may occur daily or seasonally. Eduardo Arraut and colleagues
(2010) showed that male Amazonian manatees (Trichechus inunguis) spend
the summer high-water season in deeper várzea lakes to take advantage of
abundant foraging opportunities but migrate to rivers when the water level
in lakes falls during the low-water season. Low water levels in lakes increase
the risk of predation by jaguars (Panthera onca), caimans, and humans, and
rivers offer fewer predators but also fewer foraging opportunities. Diel (daily)
vertical migration (DVM) in pelagic environments is a common pattern of
migration that has been associated with increased foraging opportunities and
decreased probability of predation. Many studies have shown that zooplank-
ton move to deeper waters during the daylight hours and return to shallower
depths at night in order to avoid predatory fish that rely on vision to detect
prey: capture rates in shallow illuminated waters are far greater than in darker
environments (Zaret & Suffern, 1976). DVM, however, does occur in meso-
predatory fish (midlevel predators) as well. Mark Scheuerell and Daniel
Schindler (2003) found that juvenile sockeye salmon (Oncorhynchus nerka)
showed similar DVM patterns, but there was a lack of DVM in their zoo-
plankton prey. Zooplankton in the Alaskan lakes they studied remained at
the well-lit surface of the lake throughout the day, while the salmon dove to
greater depths during the day (Figure 2.2), maintaining a constant-light envi-
ronment, thereby allowing them to reduce the odds of visual detection by
larger piscivorous (fish-eating) fish, in which DVM were not detected.
Simply changing activity rates and schedules may affect the likelihood that
predators and prey will encounter each other in a meaningful way. For
PREDATION AND ANTIPREDATOR BEHAVIOR 29
Figure 2.2. Box plot indicates the depth distribution of predatory fish of Nerka Lake
(from Scheurell & Schnidler, 2003). Black dots show the time series of depth of
juvenile sockeye salmon (Oncorhynchus nerka). The solid black line shows the log of
light intensity at the surface of the water. Salmon exhibit DVM patterns, rising to the
surface during the night when incident light is minimal to maintain a constant low-
light environment when in the presence of potential predators, which stay near the
surface. (Copyright 2003 Ecological Society of America)
Burrows, dense vegetation, shells, rocks, and so forth all offer outstanding pro-
tection from predators and reduce a prey animal’s detectability.
Finally, living or hunting in groups may affect an individual’s probability of
encountering a predator or prey animal. For prey, if aggregations of prey are
no more detectable than singletons, then predators may suffer increased search
times between encounters with prey (Krause & Ruxton, 2002). Often groups
of predators can increase their odds of detecting faint cues of distant prey ani-
mals. If one member of the group picks up on the scent of potential prey,
others that did not detect the scent may benefit by following that trail and,
in general, increasing the probability of encountering prey.
prey species differ in their visual abilities. Typically predatory species have
high acuity and larger binocular fields while prey have wider lateral areas to
detect predators from all around them and lower visual acuity. Recent research
shows that, for example, white-crowned sparrows (Zonotrichia leucophrys) and
California towhees (Pipilo crissalis) are both prey species that have wider lateral
visual fields and faster head-movement rates (a proxy for scanning behavior)
than predatory species to enhance detection ability (Fernández-Juricic et al.,
2011). However, these prey species show wider binocular fields than their aer-
ial avian predators, which may be related to their ability to detect prey (e.g.,
seeds and small insects) at close distances from the beak. Further, studying vis-
ual morphology in concert with behavioral responses to predators and conspe-
cifics allows these ornithologists to understand (1) trade-offs between
opposing sensory needs (distant predator detection from all directions versus
binocular vision for detecting and manipulating food on the ground) and (2)
how animals can behaviorally compensate for differences in visual ability due
to morphology (towhees have lower spatial resolution on the periphery of
the retina than white-crowned sparrows and, therefore, have faster sideways
head movements to compensate). Similarly, visual-field configuration and
scanning behavior in birds of prey is matched to prey-searching strategies
and environmental obstructions: red-tailed hawks (Buteo jamaicensis), which
scan for prey in open habitats from high perches, have smaller binocular areas,
a lower degree of eye movement, and make fewer head movements than
Cooper’s hawks (Accipiter cooperi), which ambush prey through brush in for-
ested areas (O’Rourke, Hall, et al., 2010; O’Rourke, Pitlik, et al., 2010).
Finally, increased prey group size can enhance detection speed (Krause &
Ruxton, 2002; Pulliam, 1973; Treherne & Foster, 1980). This is most evident
in species that respond behaviorally immediately upon detection of a predator,
and individuals in these larger groups typically have reduced individual rates of
vigilance (Cresswell, 1994).
sway their bodies from side to side to resemble foliage moving naturally in
the wind.
The vast majority of both predator and prey species adopt some form of the
above coloration to avoid detection, but some have evolved morphologies that
make them more detectable. Often, greater detectability results from colora-
tion that makes them more attractive to potential mates; many others are
boldly colored to advertise their defensive abilities to predators, a phenome-
non known as aposematism. I will discuss this topic in detail later.
Recognition
Once detection has occurred, each party must also recognize the other as
potential prey, irrelevant, a conspecific, or a potential threat. Recognition after
detection is not a foregone conclusion: I have personally witnessed a black-
tailed deer stare at a model leopard (extinct in the study site for more than
600,000 years) from 10 meters away without concern or recognition of danger
as she chewed her food (Stankowich & Coss, 2007). There is a great literature
on neural mechanisms governing recognition of objects as dangerous or poten-
tially edible. Both processes are the product of inherited recognition patterns
that evoke adaptive alert responses and plastic learning capabilities that allow
for changes in local predator composition and temporal or spatial variation
in prey availability. Richard Coss (Coss, 1999, 2010; Coss & Ramakrishnan,
2000; Stankowich & Coss, 2007) and Eberhard Curio (Curio, 1975, 1993)
have studied the evolution and persistence of predator recognition in a variety
of mammals (ground squirrels, black-tailed deer, and bonnet macaques
[Macaca radiata]) and in birds (pied flycatchers [Ficedula hypoleuca]), respec-
tively. In some prey species, perceptual capabilities are integrated with
higher-order inferences of predator hunting strategies in different environ-
ments (Coss, 2010). Predators and prey use several different sensory modal-
ities to recognize unique biologically important patterns and features of their
opponent above background noise. Olfactory cues in the form of alarm odors
of depredated conspecifics (e.g., Schreckstoff) can be a potent cue for many
aquatic species (Kats & Dill, 1998). Many terrestrial species are able to
winnow out extraneous sounds and remain sensitive to relevant sounds of
predators and prey, and countless studies across the animal kingdom have
shown that common biological patterns (e.g., rosettes or spots, forward-
facing eyes of predators) are potent recognition cues (Coss & Goldthwaite,
1995; Coss & Ramakrishnan, 2000; Coss et al., 2005; Curio, 1975). Recogni-
tion of some cues can be heritable so that recognition of evolutionarily con-
stant predators or prey happens innately, or selection may also favor the
ability to learn to recognize morphological characteristics in particular settings
34 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 2.3. The diagram summarizes the results of a review and meta-analysis of the
many factors that potentially influence flight-initiation distance in animals (from
Stankowich & Blumstein, 2005). Thicker lines and bolder, larger fonts indicate that
greater statistical and theoretical support exists for the influence of the factor on flight
decisions. Among others, threatening predator behavior and longer distances signifi-
cantly and consistently increase perceptions of fear in animals, while others like group
size and physical condition had weaker or less consistent effects. (Copyright 2005
Royal Society and Highwire Press)
information than they are capable of dealing with and likely weigh and deem-
phasize certain factors during assessment: natural selection should favor indi-
viduals that pay attention to only one or a few factors to streamline decision
making, something very important during fleeting interactions with potential
predators and potential prey (Bernays & Wcislo, 1994).
Aposematism
Visual communication in the form of body coloration is also a common
way to advertise to and warn potential predators that they should not attempt
an attack. Bold, contrasting color patterns are very often found on species that
bear some sort of defensive weapon or trait that would make them an unpleas-
ant meal for predators. Aposematism, or warning coloration, is found in a vari-
ety of animal groups but most commonly in insects, marine gastropods, and
amphibians. Several teams of researchers have examined the roles of predator
PREDATION AND ANTIPREDATOR BEHAVIOR 37
Figure 2.4. Mean body surface temperature in each condition across six body regions
in California ground squirrels (from Rundus et al., 2007). Testing conditions are
coded as: & ¼ rattlesnake, 4 ¼ gopher snake, ^ ¼ conspecific, ¼ baseline.
Squirrels showed increased emission of infrared radiation over baseline and control
trials when exposed to rattlesnakes, which can detect infrared radiation, but not when
exposed to gopher snakes, which cannot. This result suggests that squirrels assess risk
and adjust their response both behaviorally and physiologically to the type of predator
with which they are confronted. * P < 0.01 compared with conspecific and gopher
snake; † P < 0.01 compared with baseline, conspecific, and gopher snake. (Copyright
2007 National Academy of Sciences, USA)
Figure 2.5. Bars indicate the frequency of cryptic brown frog models, novel blue frog
models, and local yellow frog models attacked by visual (black) and nonvisual
(white) predators (modified from Noonan & Comeault, 2009). While both novel and
local frog models were conspicuously colored, birds preferentially attacked the novel
blue models and avoided local yellow models, suggesting that lack of bird predation
on yellow frogs is due to a learned association between yellow and toxic prey rather
than a general avoidance of brightly colored prey. (Copyright 2007 Royal Society and
Highwire Press)
PREDATION AND ANTIPREDATOR BEHAVIOR 39
optimality models that maximize prey fitness and allow benefits to increase
during the encounter (Cooper & Frederick, 2007). They have applied and
refined these models to examine the effect of variable lethality and other fac-
tors on optimal flight decisions. When lizards lose their tails during nonlethal
attacks by predators (i.e., tail autotomy), they suffer a reduction in locomotor
performance and are thus more vulnerable to predators in future encounters
(i.e., predatory attacks increase in lethality), and they may also suffer reduced
fitness due to reduced social status and foraging ability. The net result of these
reductions in initial fitness and increase in lethality is that optimal flight dis-
tance increases (Cooper & Frederick, 2010). The ability of these optimality
models to account for changes in both initial fitness and performance during
predatory encounters makes them straightforward to modify to examine
changes in other factors (e.g., sex, age, health). Clearly, a wide variety of
potential factors are weighed during an animal’s decision of when to flee from
an approaching predator (Figure 2.3).
Decision to Attack
There is a great deal of theory but few reliable empirical data on how pred-
ators select which type of prey to hunt and which individuals to attack (Lima,
1998). Granted, the great majority of acts of predation occur either (1) on
prey that cannot defend themselves or flee, and thus the decision to attack is
simply a matter of selecting the most energetically beneficial individual(s) to
attack; or (2) with predators that will attack any individual prey item that it
recognizes in its vicinity. In both cases, the decision of whether or not to attack
is a foregone conclusion, and there are many empirical studies of prey selection
on immobile or defenseless prey (see Chapter 1 for discussion). On the other
hand there are many predator-prey interactions in nature where a predator
must assess a potential prey item and decide whether to attack it, and if so,
when and how. Very few empirical studies, however, are available that explore
this decision in predators, probably because predators are difficult to study in
the wild and witnessing natural acts of predation is rare. John Quinn and Will
Cresswell have had some success in testing attack decisions of sparrowhawks
(Accipiter nisus) in natural settings. Using intensive observational sampling of
sparrowhawks hunting redshanks (Tringa tetanus), they found that sparrow-
hawks were more likely to attack redshanks in larger groups that were closer
to cover and were spaced farther apart within those groups (Quinn & Cress-
well, 2004). A subsequent study showed that the targeted redshanks were
more widely spaced apart than their nearest neighbors that were not targeted
(Quinn & Cresswell, 2006). These findings suggest that predators that hunt
prey using costly attack styles and low probability of success pay close
PREDATION AND ANTIPREDATOR BEHAVIOR 41
attention to the behavior of potential targets, target prey that appear more vul-
nerable, and decide to attack only when the circumstances are favorable.
Defense
Once a predator has attacked, an organism has two choices—attempt to
flee to safety or attempt to hold its ground and defend itself physically—but
sometimes these options bleed together. We can classify prey defenses into
several different anthropomorphic categories: armor, combat weapons, and
chemical weapons (Caro, 2005b; Emlen, 2008; Stankowich, 2012). Defensive
armor is one of the most common morphological adaptations that prey have
evolved for protecting themselves against attacking predators. Armor may take
the form of spines or quills, as in sticklebacks, hedgehogs, and porcupines or of
thick protective plates, as in turtles, shelled gastropods and arthropods,
42 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
armadillos, and pangolins. When an organism only has one or a few spines,
they often function to simply make it harder to swallow the animal (Hoogland
et al., 1956). When spines or quills cover the entire body, on the other hand,
they also make the prey harder to handle without risking injury, and in some
cases may even cushion the animal if dropped or knocked off of tree branches
or rocks (Vincent & Owers, 1986). Combat weapons include horns or antlers;
large teeth, fangs, or tusks; or long claws, paired with physical strength.
Chemical weapons include sprayed noxious or malodorous chemicals, venom,
and secreted toxins, among others. Mobbing by prey is also an effective
defense against single predators and is found in a wide variety of animal groups
(e.g., muskoxen [Ovibos moschatus] protecting young offspring, bees protect-
ing their hive, shorebirds protecting their nests). While there is a broad array
of morphological and behavioral adaptations used in defense against predators,
some may have evolved primarily in response to natural selection by predators,
while others may be secondarily co-opted for use against predators but evolved
primarily for some other function (e.g., combat with conspecifics or feeding).
In mammals, weaponry that evolved primarily for defensive purposes tends to
be found in intermediate-sized species that live in more exposed environments
with fewer opportunities for refuge, whereas weaponry that evolved primarily
for within-species combat (e.g., sexual weaponry in males) tends to be found
in larger species where size influences the outcomes of competitive interactions
(Stankowich, 2012; Stankowich & Caro, 2009).
Escape
If an animal is too small to defend itself against a predator or when its
defensive tactics fail, it is forced to attempt an escape to safety. The specific
escape strategy depends upon the medium and habitat but may include run-
ning, swimming, or flying away; dropping out of a tree; jumping out of the
way; burrowing; or diving into water. When prolonged escape is used, species
often use fast, erratic turns (i.e., protean behavior) that make it difficult for
heavier predators to adjust. If a group of animals scatters and flees erratically,
it may confuse the predator, making it difficult to follow any one individual.
In fact, if individuals all have different innate escape patterns, then it would
be impossible for predators to learn the pattern to the escape path; therefore,
the production and maintenance of such variation in escape pattern via genetic
recombination may actually promote the evolution of sexual reproduction
over asexual reproduction (the “red tooth hypothesis”; French, 2010). Paolo
Domenici and colleagues (2008) directed puffs of air directly towards the
heads of cockroaches (Periplaneta americana) to elicit an escape response and
measured the angle of the escape trajectory: cockroaches turned their bodies
PREDATION AND ANTIPREDATOR BEHAVIOR 43
and fled in four preferred trajectories (90º, 120º, 150º, and 180º). These four
paths probably result in variation in escape response sufficient to keep the
predator guessing. Further, protean behaviors, if performed at a distance,
may also help communicate agility to the pursuing predator: Thomson’s
gazelles (Eudorcas thomsonii) often bound up and down as they flee (termed
stotting) to advertise their quality to a predator and encourage it to stop the
pursuit.
Species differences in escape strategies typically depend on a wide range of
ecological and morphological factors. Steve Lima, for example, was able to
group 43 emberizine finch species into five types based on sociality and vegeta-
tion density (Lima, 1993). Species may also vary their escape strategy based on
the type of predator they are faced with. Redshanks suffer the lowest capture
rates by flying away from sparrowhawks and merlins (Falco columbarius), but
when faced with peregrine falcons (F. peregrinus), diving into creeks and
crouching are far more effective modes of escape (Cresswell, 1996).
DISCUSSION
Using the attack sequence provides a useful framework for reviewing the
many morphological and behavioral adaptations of predators and prey.
Detailed coverage of all of these adaptations would fill several volumes (but
see Caro, 2005b, for a good start), and it is clear from even this cursory over-
view that a huge array of factors besides predation and the need for food drive
the evolution of these adaptations. Some recent studies have focused on the
persistence of antipredator adaptations in the absence of predators (i.e., relax-
ation in selection). Some costly morphological traits may be lost rapidly if they
are coded for by only one or a few genes, while many behavioral traits can take
hundreds of thousands of years to degrade (Lahti et al., 2009). Predator recog-
nition, for example, is highly variable in its tendency to degrade in the absence
of predators. Moose (Alces alces) showed reduced recognition of wolves (Canis
lupus) after only 50 to 130 years of absence (Berger et al., 2001), and tammar
wallabies (Macropus eugenii) suffered a breakdown in visual predator recogni-
tion after 130 years of isolation from mammals (Blumstein et al., 2004). At
longer time scales, Columbian black-tailed deer showed loss of recognition
of spotted cats after 600,000 years (Stankowich & Coss, 2007), and California
ground squirrels retained snake recognition after 300,000 years of allopatry
but lost it after 3 to 5 million years (Coss, 1991; Goldthwaite et al., 1990).
A few central factors influence predator-prey evolution up and down the
attack sequence. Group size has powerful effects on both predator hunting
behavior and prey antipredator responses (reviewed at length in Krause &
44 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Ruxton, 2002). Larger prey group sizes result in increased vigilance ability
(many-eyes effect), greater speed of information transfer between individuals,
dilution of risk, and the ability to confuse or mob predators. Spatial position
within groups influences predation risk but also influences feeding rates
by predators in foraging groups. Large prey groups also make for potentially
larger meals for predators. Larger predator groups can allow for capture of prey
that are larger than they would otherwise be able to bring down if hunting
alone and improve the likelihood of prey detection. There are many benefits
and costs to grouping behavior for all organisms, and their effects on predation
risk and ability to locate prey are strong influences on optimal group size.
Lifetime experience also significantly influences predator-prey interactions
up and down the attack sequence. For many organisms that are more develop-
mentally plastic, exposure to certain predator cues at an early age can influence
both morphological development and adult behavior, including predator rec-
ognition and risk assessment. Maud Ferrari, Doug Chivers, Grant Brown,
and their colleagues have, in recent years, made great strides in understanding
the effect of exposure to predator cues and conspecific alarm odors in early
developmental environments on learning ability and predator recognition.
They tested the ability of fathead minnows (Pimephales promelas) to generalize
between a known predator species and other species that varied in evolution-
ary relatedness. They found that after teaching minnows to fear lake trout
(Salvenilus namaycush) by pairing the lake trout odor with conspecific alarm
odors, the minnows showed strong antipredator responses to the lake trout,
brook trout (S. fontinalis, a member of the same genus as lake trout), and rain-
bow trout (Oncorhynchus mykiss, a member of a different genus but the same
family), but they did not recognize odors of predatory northern pike (Esox
Lucius, a member of a different order) or nonpredatory white suckers (Catosto-
mus commersoni, a member of a different superorder) (Figure 2.6: Ferrari et al.,
2007). In a similar study they found nearly identical generalization patterns in
rainbow trout responding to predators of varying degrees of relatedness
(Brown et al., 2011).
Clearly, the evolution of adaptive predatory and antipredatory behaviors
and morphologies is influenced by many environmental factors and sources
of selection, including the need to locate and attract potential mates. In fact,
reproductive and defensive strategies often evolve to complement each other
insomuch as some entire mating systems may be disadvantageous in light of
morphological constraints based on predator avoidance or the need to hunt.
In this respect, broad syntheses of sexual and natural selection are needed
to look for general patterns and correlations between reproductive, feeding,
and antipredator adaptations. As this chapter demonstrates, there many ways
Figure 2.6. The mean change in shoaling index (top) and line crosses (bottom) for fat-
head minnows conditioned to fear lake trout odor paired with either water (black
bars) or conspecific alarm cues (white bars) (redrawn from Ferrari et al., 2007). Min-
nows were able to generalize their conditioned fear of lake trout to brook trout (same
genus as lake trout) and rainbow trout (different genus but same family as lake trout)
but not to northern pike (different order from lake trout) or nonpredatory white
suckers (different superorder from lake trout). Lifetime experience with predatory
stimuli has significant effects on future antipredator responses. (Copyright 2007
Royal Society and Highwire Press)
46 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
that organisms can adapt to new threats or new foods in their environment,
and these adaptations complement or trade off with other fitness-enhancing
traits already present in the species’ repertoire.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to E. Fernández-Juricic, M. Ferrari, and R. Coss for advice on
particular references, access to original data or images, and comments on por-
tions of this chapter.
basement. Both you and your friend are receivers, but you have responded
differently to the same message. We can say that your interpretation of the
message is different.
The same thing can happen in animal communication. Consider a male
bird singing in its territory. The information content of the song (signal)
may be that he is a male in reproductive condition, he is looking for a mate,
and he already has a territory that he will defend against any intruders. A
female bird (receiver) listens to the song and interprets it as an invitation.
She approaches the male as a potential mating partner. A male bird listening
to the same song, and receiving the same messages, interprets the song as a
warning and flies away to avoid getting into a fight with the territorial male.
Thus, any time that we study communication we must be aware that the sig-
nal, information content, and interpretation are all different and that different
receivers can have different interpretations—and therefore different responses
to the same signal and message (e.g., Marler, 1961; Smith, 1977; but also see
discussions in Ruxton & Schaefer, 2011; Searcy & Nowicki, 2005).
W. John Smith (1977), who first proposed the concept of “messages,” also
distinguished among different types of messages. Behavioral messages are
those that provide information on what the sender is most likely to do next
(what behavior, the probability that it will occur, and how intensely the behav-
ior may be performed). Nonbehavioral messages provide information about
the identity of the sender (i.e., they are “identifiers”) or about location (of
the sender or other relevant item such as food). This framework is the one that
has dominated the study of animal communication, but as alluded to earlier, it
has recently been challenged. There are other interesting aspects of communi-
cations systems. For example, some signals may be directed specifically at a
particular individual. A baby bird that makes shrill noises when it is hungry
is directing those calls specifically to its parent. On the other hand, a honeybee
(Apis mellifera) that detects a danger (e.g., a predator) will produce an alarm
odor (alarm pheromone) that alerts all bees in the vicinity that there is a dan-
ger (Boch & Shearer, 1971; Wager & Breed, 2000). In the latter case, when
the sender produces a signal that is propagated throughout the environment
without having one specific intended receiver, we refer to the signal as a
broadcast signal. Note also that any time there is a broadcast signal, and even
in some cases where the signal is intended only for one receiver, eavesdrop-
ping can happen. For example, in the case of the baby bird’s feeding calls,
a nest predator may eavesdrop on the calls and use them to locate and eat
the baby bird. Individuals in social species may give calls to indicate to group
members that they have found food; other individuals who are not group
members can eavesdrop and also take advantage of the food. Another
54 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
MODALITIES OF COMMUNICATION
All animal communication involves the use of senses. Specifically, signals
may be visual (e.g., postures, displays, coloration), acoustic (e.g., songs, calls),
chemical (e.g., glandular secretions, saliva, urine), tactile (e.g., touching, strok-
ing, plucking), electrical (e.g., electric pulses), or vibrational (e.g., waves trans-
mitted through substrates such as the ground, plant stems, or water). I suspect
the first four modalities did not surprise you because they are senses that
humans are aware of and use routinely. On the other hand, you may not have
realized the importance of electrical communication in some species. Weakly
electric fishes, for example, communicate with a series of electric pulses pro-
duced by specialized organs (Hagedorn, 1986). These pulses can encode infor-
mation by varying characteristics such as their pattern, repetition rate, or
frequency. Likewise, many species are now known to communicate by send-
ing waves through substrates. Sometimes it is difficult to distinguish these
ANIMAL COMMUNICATION 55
types of signals from sounds (after all, sounds are also waves that travel
through the air). Certain insects (e.g., tree hoppers) communicate by produc-
ing waves that travel through the stems of plants, and they use different types
of waves depending on what is being communicated (Cocroft, 2005; Cocroft
& Rodriguez, 2005). Some spiders use parts of their bodies to generate waves
that travel through the ground and are perceived by receivers (e.g., Gibson &
Uetz, 2008; Sivalinghem et al., 2010), and some underground rodents either
butt their heads against the roofs of their burrows (Heth et al., 1987; Rado
et al., 1998), or footdrum on the ground (Narins et al., 1997; Randall &
Lewis, 1997), generating waves that travel through the ground to other con-
specifics. The term seismic communication is often used to describe signals
that are propagated through the ground. In all cases of vibrational communi-
cation, humans cannot hear the “sounds” that are generated unless they use
specialized equipment. However, using such equipment, for example in your
backyard, can result in a cacophony of amazing sounds: whines, grunts,
knocks, whistles, chirps, and so on—sort of the insect equivalent of “heavy
metal”!
Visual Communication
Visual signals are used by many different species of animals and can be either
dynamic or static. A static signal, such as the color pattern of the peacock’s tail,
is one that does not change. A dynamic signal can change while the display is
taking place. For example, some fish have dark stripes on their sides, but they
can make the stripes very dark or so light they are almost invisible (and every-
thing in between) during an aggressive encounter (e.g., Baylis, 1974). The
darkness of the stripes communicates motivation—such as whether the fish
at that instant in time is feeling more aggressive or more scared. Visual signals
may be morphological, consisting of special structures (e.g., crests or elongated
tails in birds) or of colors or patches of colors (the black chest bib in house
sparrows (Passer domesticus), or behavioral, consisting of movements, postures,
or displays produced by the animal (e.g., head bobbing of lizards—but note
here that this use of behavioral differs somewhat from that of Smith [1977],
who uses this term specifically with regard to messages or information content
of signals). Frequently, the morphological and behavioral signals are combined
in one display. Many lizards have dewlaps—a fold of skin that can be extended
into a semicircular structure—under their chins. Dewlaps can be very colorful
and are often displayed during head bobbing, thereby combining a morpho-
logical signal with a behavioral one. In some species there is evidence that
females can recognize males of their own species by the color of the dewlap
and/or the pattern of head bobbing and push-ups, and that they may use these
56 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
signals to avoid mating with the wrong species (e.g., Hunsaker, 1962; Jenssen,
1970). Some animals (e.g., some birds and insects) even produce and perceive
ultraviolet signals that humans cannot see.
A special type of visual signal involves structures that are produced by the
sender and then used as part of a display. The best know example of this is
found in bowerbirds (Borgia, 1986). In this group, males build elaborate
structures—called bowers—out of twigs and other vegetation and then deco-
rate them with colorful fruit, flower petals, string, shiny pieces of paper, and
many other types of objects. Once the bower is completed the male courts
passing females by bowing, posturing, and calling near the entrance to the
bower. Females apparently choose males based on their bowers, as well as on
the male’s behaviors (Borgia, 1986).
Acoustic Communication
Acoustic signals are also widespread throughout the animal kingdom, being
most commonly associated with birds, mammals, anuran amphibians (frogs
and toads), and insects. Many sounds, such as the chirping of crickets, the
songs of birds, the calling of frogs, and the roar or growling of mammals, are
audible to the human ear. Most humans can only hear sounds that fall into
the range of 20 to 20,000 hertz (Hz). However, in some cases animals produce
acoustic signals that are above or below this audible range and cannot be heard
by humans without the use of specialized equipment. For example, many
rodents produce very high-frequency (ultrasonic—inaudible to us) calls that
are important in parental care and sexual behavior (e.g., Ehret, 2005). In
another interesting case, Katy Payne, studying elephants in a zoo, noticed
behavior in elephants that suggested they were making sounds that she could
not hear. She went on to demonstrate that elephants communicate over long
distances by using very low-frequency (infrasonic) rumbling sounds that also
are inaudible to humans (Payne et al., 1986; Payne, 1998). In fact, by some
estimates, most of the sounds that elephants make are at such low frequencies
that they cannot be heard by our ears. Because some of these sounds are also
transmitted through the ground, they are sometimes classified as seismic
signals rather than as true sounds.
In some cases, animals may use objects to generate sounds. A well-know
example occurs in chimpanzees (Pan troglodytes). A variety of sounds used
during communication are produced by chimps slapping or stomping on the
ground or vigorously shaking or dragging tree branches (Muller & Mitani,
2005).
Acoustic signals tend to be extremely complex, and many different charac-
teristics of the sound may be important in communication. In addition to
ANIMAL COMMUNICATION 57
Chemical Communication
Chemical communication, which includes both olfactory and gustatory sig-
nals, is nearly ubiquitous, occurring throughout the animal kingdom, with the
possible exception of among birds (but see below). Because olfaction and taste
can be so difficult to distinguish, this chapter concentrates on olfaction and
the use of odors or scents as signals. Frequently, odors are produced by special-
ized glands, but urine, feces, and saliva can also contain relevant information.
An interesting characteristic of chemical signals is that, in many cases, they can
be deposited and broadcast throughout the environment even when the
sender is no longer present. One example you are probably familiar with is uri-
nation in dogs (Canis familiaris). Dogs will sniff and then repeatedly “mark”
certain trees—or the proverbial fire hydrants—and then move on. It appears
that each dog may be leaving a sort of “calling card” that keeps everyone
informed of who has been there and, possibly, how long ago (Wyatt, 2003).
An alternative explanation for this common dog behavior is that each dog
may be “erasing” the previous dog’s scent mark by urinating on top of it
(Wyatt, 2003). Also in dogs, everyone is likely familiar with the sex phero-
mone produced by female dogs when they are in heat. This odor is also broad-
cast and is highly attractive to any male dogs in the general vicinity (Beach &
Gilmore, 1949; Dunbar, 1977). Sex pheromones are important not only in
mammals but also in many insects, crustaceans, fishes, salamanders, reptiles,
and other taxa.
There often is a great deal of misunderstanding about the definition of
pheromone, and many people think that all pheromones function in sexual
behavior, but this is not correct. A pheromone is any chemical substance that
is secreted to the outside by an individual of one species and has an effect on
the behavior or physiology of a conspecific—that is, another individual of
the same species. While it is true that many pheromones are used in sexual
contexts, they can also function in other contexts, including in communicat-
ing alarm (as in the case of the honey bees mentioned earlier), social status,
and individual or group identity; in eliciting aggregations; or in creating scent
58 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
trails. Moreover, the definition also makes it clear that chemical cues that act
between different species are not pheromones.
Bark beetles of the genus Ips are a good example of species that produce
pheromones used specifically for facilitating aggregations of conspecifics
(Young et al., 1973; Bakke, 1978; Byers, 1983). Ips attacks on pine trees can
result in terrible infestations that may kill hundreds or thousands of living
trees. When the first beetle finds a suitable tree (usually an older tree or one
that has been weakened by fire or disease), it immediately begins producing
an aggregation pheromone that attracts large numbers of conspecific beetles.
These beetles produce additional pheromone, resulting in the entire tree
becoming riddled with beetles burrowing under the bark and eating the
phloem, ultimately destroying the tree. Because of the commercial damage
that is wreaked by Ips infestations, as well as by other species of beetles that
also attack various species of trees, an enormous amount of research has been
done on their aggregation pheromones in the hopes of being able to control
outbreaks of these infestations.
Some experts on chemical communication limit the use of the word phero-
mone to cases in which all receivers respond in the same way and in a stereotyped
manner to the chemical signal. For example, all honey bees in a hive respond in
the same manner to the bee alarm pheromone, by increasing movement, search-
ing for the threat, and immediately attacking it. This is why a person who is stung
by a bee is likely to get multiple stings—the first bee that attacks releases an alarm
pheromone that alerts all the other bees, and they then descend on the unfortu-
nate person and continue to attack by stinging (however, the alarm pheromone
is quite complex, with different components eliciting different responses—see
Wager & Breed, 2000). According to this more restrictive definition, odors that
communicate individual identity in mammals are not pheromones because dif-
ferent receivers can respond differently to the same odor based on their previous
experience with the sender (friendly versus hostile, or familiar versus unfamiliar).
For the sake of simplicity, in this chapter I define a pheromone as an intraspecific
chemical signal, regardless of the type of response that it elicits.
Animals that use chemical communication may mark the substrate, objects
in their environment (e.g., trees, rocks, twigs), or their conspecifics or even
spread odors on themselves by self-grooming. As an example, during social
encounters, male neotropical singing mice (Scotynomys teguina) rub their front
paws on their abdominal scent gland and then allogroom females, spreading
the male secretions all over the females’ fur (Fernández Vargas et al., 2011).
The function of this marking of females is not well understood. Interestingly,
as their name implies, singing mice also produce acoustic signals in both
audible and ultrasonic ranges.
ANIMAL COMMUNICATION 59
Multiple Modalities
I have discussed each modality of communication separately. However, in
real life, an animal may often use more than one modality simultaneously. I
have already mentioned bowerbirds using both acoustic and visual signals in
their courtship display. Grouse, among many other species of birds, also com-
bine visual and acoustic signals during courting behaviors—they strut or
stomp while conspicuously displaying bright colors on their heads, body, or
tails, while simultaneously making “booming” or drumming calls that can be
heard over surprisingly long distances (Dantzker et al., 1999). In some mam-
mals, scent communication is accompanied by conspicuous visual signals.
For example, South American bush dog (Speothos venaticus) females perform
a handstand as they urine-mark objects in their environment (Kleiman,
1972). Likewise, ring-tailed lemurs (Lemur catta) undulate their tails conspic-
uously at the same time that they release anal-gland scents; this seems to con-
stitute a visual signal, as well as perhaps helping to waft the odor towards the
intended receiver. Invertebrates, such as some jumping spiders, also combine
modalities, sometimes using tactile and chemical cues simultaneously or both
visual and vibrational cues (e.g., Girard et al., 2011).
ANIMAL COMMUNICATION 61
CONTEXTS OF COMMUNICATION
From the information provided above, you probably already have a pretty
good grasp of the types of situations in which animals use communication.
Communication is a sine qua non for sociality—that is, all animals that are
social by necessity must have some form of communication. However, even
solitary (not living in groups) animals must communicate for the purpose of
mating and reproductive behavior. (The only possible exception to this gener-
alization might be species that reproduce by cloning, are hermaphroditic, and
are not likely to encounter other individuals of their own species.)
In general, the contexts in which communication is used include, but are
not limited to, sexual behavior, agonistic behavior, parental care, group co-
ordination, and food and predators. I discuss these uses below.
Sexual Behavior
Signals used for reproduction include sex attractants (such as sex phero-
mones), sexual excitants (sometimes called aphrodisiacs), and displays that
help the male and female to coordinate their behaviors so that mating can
occur. In many species of crickets, for example, males produce two distinctly
different songs during courtship (Zuk et al., 2008). The first song, called the
calling song, attracts the female and is very different from one species to
another (e.g., Gray & Cade, 2000; Fitzpatrick & Gray, 2001); once the
female approaches, the male switches to a new song, called the courtship song,
which seems to excite the female, making it more likely that she will accept
him as a mate (but many courtship attempts, whether in crickets or other taxa,
are unsuccessful because females may refuse to mate even after assiduous
courtship on the part of males). Keep in mind also that, in some species, it is
the females that produce signals to attract males. For example, it is the female
in most moth species (e.g., silkworm moth [Bombyx mori], gypsy moth
[Portheria dispar]) that produces the sex pheromone that attracts males, some-
times from distances of 2 km or more (Jacobson & Beroza, 1963; Wilson &
Bossert, 1963). Likewise, in dogs it is the female that produces a powerful
sex pheromone to attract males (Beach & Gilmore, 1949; Dunbar, 1977).
As we saw in the case of the orb-web spiders, courtship behavior can be tricky,
and, in most species, both the male and female may risk injury or attack if they
proceed too quickly, before their potential mate is ready. Thus, courtship
often involves complex sequences of signaling behaviors by both the male
and the female. Sometimes these complex sequences are referred to as court-
ship dances, and these have been described in spiders, birds, fishes, and even
in cephalopods, such as squids (e.g., Sauer et al., 1997; Von Hippel, 2000;
62 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Trainer et al., 2002; Girard et al., 2011). In species that stay together for an
extended period after mating, courtship signals and activities may also help
to create and reinforce a pair bond—the two individuals will stay together
and interact in an amicable and nonaggressive manner and will cooperate in
activities that help to increase their reproductive success (e.g., in parental
care—see below).
Agonistic Behavior
In animal behavior we use the term agonistic to refer to interactions that
involve both aggression (offensive signals and behaviors) and submission
(defensive signals and behavior). The use of this specialized term makes sense
if we consider what is really happening when two individuals are involved in
what most nonspecialists would call an aggressive encounter. Imagine that
you are physically fighting with another person—most likely your feelings
(as well as the feelings of your opponent) will fluctuate between aggression
and fear because you cannot be sure that opponent will not be a better fighter
and beat you up. Your behavior is likely to go from advancing and threatening
your opponent one instant to backing off and trying to protect yourself the next.
Thus, you and the opponent are continuously going back and forth between
aggression and submission. Thus, aggression only addresses one aspect of what
happens in these types of interactions, and agonism becomes a more accurate
word. Agonism can occur in many different contexts. Individuals, whether male
or female, may compete for mates, food, territories, resources, or shelters,
among other reasons. Sometimes competition can involve actual physical fights,
but in many cases animals use only ritualized displays (see below) and signal
until one individual backs down and the other gains access to the resource.
In almost all species, signals and displays that indicate threat or aggression
have similar characteristics. They make the animal look bigger, and weapons
are exposed. A direct stare also is considered a signal of aggression in many spe-
cies. Think of a dog that is behaving very aggressively—it will stand tall with
head held high, ears will be perked straight up, hackles on the back will be
raised, tail will be up, teeth will be bared in a snarl, and the dog will likely stare
directly at its opponent. By contrast, a dog showing submission will cower
(body pressed close to the floor), ears will be pressed back against the head, tail
will be hidden between the legs, the teeth will be hidden behind a grimace,
and the head (and eyes) will be turned directly away from the opponent. In
an extreme case, the submissive dog might even fall down to the ground com-
pletely and roll over on its back. Both of these submissive displays make the
dog look as small and as nonthreatening as possible. The aggressive and sub-
missive displays are virtually mirror images of each other. We call such displays
ANIMAL COMMUNICATION 63
that are exact opposites of one another antithetical displays because the pos-
ture in one case is the antithesis (exact opposite) of the other (Darwin,
1872). Images for antithetical aggressive and submissive displays in dogs and
discussion by Darwin (including also other images of dog and cat postures)
can be found at http://www.brocku.ca/MeadProject/Darwin/Darwin
_1872_02.html.
I used the example of dogs because it is probably familiar to many of you.
However, the same types of behaviors are seen in many other species across
most of the animal kingdom. Ungulates, such as deer or antelope, may stand
very tall, stare at their opponents, and swing their antlers or horns (weapons)
threateningly in the air. Fishes expand their gill covers, making them look
much bigger from the front; toads may puff up their bodies, making them-
selves appear alarmingly larger than they really are. Invertebrates also make
themselves look larger and may display their weapons. For example, mantis
shrimp (marine stomatopod crustaceans) rear up and perform “meral spreads”
by opening and displaying their brightly colored raptorial appendages (power-
ful weapons that can smash down on an opponent, causing serious injury or
death) in a very conspicuous threat display (Caldwell & Dingle, 1975). And,
of course, the submissive displays tend to be opposites of the threat displays.
See also section “Typical- and Variable-Intensity Displays,” below, for more
information on agonistic signals and displays.
Parental Care
Not all species of animals show parental care, but among those that do,
communication looms big. Signals relevant to parental care include the beg-
ging or squeaking calls of baby birds and mammals, which generally garner
the attention of the parents, who may then feed or protect their young. Larvae
of some social insects (e.g., social bees and wasps) use special signals to beg
food from the adults (Kaptein et al., 2005). Recognition between parents
and their offspring can be critical to the survival of the young, and it is not sur-
prising that many species in many different taxa have evolved signals that aid
in this recognition. Young who become lost or isolated from their parent(s)
typically produce signals that attract the parent and lead to the retrieval of
the offspring (Smotherman et al., 1974). In birds, calls are often used for
parent-offspring identification (reviewed in Halpin, 1991). In many other
taxa, including some fishes, salamanders, and mammals, chemical signals play
a similar role (reviewed in Halpin, 1991). Parents may also warn their off-
spring of danger. A case in point is a group of cichlid fishes (family Cichlidae)
called mouthbrooders. In most of these species, the female carries the fertilized
eggs in her mouth until the young hatch. (During this time, swallowing,
64 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
coughing, and yawning are mostly suppressed so that the female does not acciden-
tally swallow or disgorge the developing young.) After the fry (baby fish) hatch
they continue to associate with the mother and return to her mouth to sleep or
when they are in danger. In fact, the mother and offspring communicate with vari-
ous signals to ensure that the fry return the mother’s mouth when a threat is per-
ceived (Baerends & Baerends-Von Roon, 1950; Balshine-Earn & Earn, 1998).
Group Coordination
Among social species, signals frequently serve to keep the group together or
to coordinate behaviors. For example, in many species of primates, as mem-
bers of the troop spread out to forage (whether in savannahs or in trees), indi-
viduals will emit contact calls to keep in touch with the group and allow
others to determine where all group members are (e.g., Sugiura, 1998). Special
signals that may be visual, acoustic, or chemical are also used by some species
to initiate particular behaviors, such as group movement from one place to
another or a coordinated attack on prey (e.g., Arnold & Zuberbühler, 2006).
Among the truly social insects (termites, ants, social bees and wasps) chemical
communication controls much of the group’s behavior, ranging from parental
care to alarm behavior to (in some cases) coordinated attacks on other groups.
Among the army ants (e.g., genus Eciton), daily raids away from the nest or
nomadic movement from one nest to another are exquisitely coordinated, pri-
marily by chemical cues (Deneubourg et al., 1989). Thousands of ants literally
march in files over the landscape (ground, branches, etc.), attacking and eating
everything in their path, while simultaneously maintaining extraordinary
group cohesion and order. I was lucky to witness such a raid on a visit to Costa
Rica in 2012; this was an amazing experience because (at the risk of being
anthropomorphic) the ants gave the impression of being unstoppable and
moved as if they had one mind and one common goal.
encountered (Cocroft, 2005). Tent caterpillars lay chemical trails that lead
other nestmates to food and then back to the nest (Fitzgerald & Webster,
1993). And when ants invade your home, think pheromones! Foraging ants
leave scent trails that guide other ants to food—for example, on your kitchen
counter (Morgan, 2008). As a result, the best way to get rid of the ants is to
destroy their pheromone trails (unfortunately, this is not always easy). Birds
and mammals will often use special vocalizations to alert group members to
the presence of food (e.g., Caine et al., 1995; Elgar, 1986; Elowson et al., 1991).
Perhaps the most amazing example of communication about food is the
waggle dance of the honey bee (Von Frisch, 1967). Worker bees (all females)
belong to different castes, each one specialized for different tasks. Some work-
ers are “scouts” whose job is to leave the hive, find food, and then come back
to the hive and signal to the foragers where the food is. Foragers then follow
the “instructions” of the scouts, find the food, and bring it back to the hive.
After initially finding food, the scouts perform a waggle dance on a vertical
surface inside the hive, and the foragers follow the dance by maintaining con-
tact with the scouts as they dance (the inside of the hive is dark, so tactile cues
are used). The waggle dance resembles a flattened figure eight with the scout
bee going around one circle and then the other, waggling its abdomen as it
moves through the straight portion (called the straight run) between the two
circles. As the scout dances, the angle of the straight run in relation to straight
up on the vertical indicates the exact direction of the food in relation to the
position of the sun outside. Note that the straight run does not directly point
to the food but rather indicates where the food is in relation to the sun; if the
sun is not visible outside (as in a completely overcast sky) the foragers will not
be able to use the waggle dance to determine direction. In addition to indicat-
ing the direction of the food, scouts also indicate the distance to the food by
how many waggles they perform during the straight run (the more waggles,
the longer it takes to do the straight run and the farther away the food is)
and the quality or richness of the source by how long they continue perform-
ing the waggle dance (see Volume 1, Chapter 12). Interestingly, if the food is
very close, scouts do not perform the waggle dance; instead, they perform a
“round dance” that consists of moving around and around in a simple circle.
Foragers leave the hive and fly in concentric circles in the vicinity of the hive
until they locate the food. Images of the honey bee waggle dance and round
dance can be found in these links.
http://media.wiley.com/mrw_images/els/articles/a0002940/image_n/
nfg002.gifhttp://images.tutorvista.com/content/biotic-community/honey
-bee-worker-waggle-dance.jpeg
66 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pOW4pcoh2Z0/Sun4XSUM4PI/AAAAAAAAA
FE/0roWi1owCSc/s320/honeybees.jpg
Interestingly, the importance of the waggle dance has recently been chal-
lenged (Grüter & Farina, 2008, 2009). These authors claim that forager bees
that follow the dances often disregard the direction and location information
encoded by the dances. They suggest that the information on the location of
food sources (i.e., spatial or navigational information) is used primarily as a
back-up if other sources of information are not available or are inconsistent.
In response, Axel Brockmann and Moushumi Sen Sarma (2009) argue that
just because honey bees may use a variety of information (e.g., food odors
brought back by scouts or their own previous experience), it does not mean
that the waggle dance is not important or that the information it conveys is
not relevant. Specifically, they suggest that the location information encoded
in the waggle dance may be particularly important when food is patchily dis-
tributed and difficult to find, as is often the case in the tropics and subtropics
where eight of the nine species of honey bees are found and where the waggle
dance likely evolved.
Interestingly, this is not the first time that the conventional understanding
of the waggle dance has been challenged. As far back as the 1960s, several sci-
entists questioned whether the waggle dance really serves as a “language” that
communicates location and/or distance to the food sources; instead they sug-
gested that bees were using odors (rather than the information in the waggle
dance) to find food (e.g., Johnson, 1967; Wenner, 1967). Von Frisch
(1967) countered this criticism by pointing to a number of his own experi-
ments that seemed to show very clearly that bees do, in fact, use the dances
to locate food. Subsequently, James Gould (1975) conducted a series of
elegant and exquisitely controlled experiments to test the assertions of the crit-
ics. He concluded that under different conditions (e.g., stress level of the bees
and the abundance of flower sources the bees are using), honey bees could use
either the information in the waggle dance or odors. However, he also found
excellent evidence that bees are able to gain information from the dance and
that, even when odors are used, the waggle dance is necessary to recruit the
foragers. He also suggested that Wenner (1967) and Von Frisch (1967)
obtained different result and reached different conclusions because of differ-
ences in methodology that resulted in their concentrating on two different
stages of the recruitment process using the dance. Recently, Tania Munz
(2005) has summarized the history of this early challenge to the waggle dance.
The recurring debates over the waggle dance of honey bees is a good exam-
ple of how science works. Karl Von Frisch’s discovery of the waggle dance
ANIMAL COMMUNICATION 67
more than 60 years ago won him the 1973 Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medi-
cine. Moreover, the waggle dance has remained one of the most celebrated
examples of complex communication in animals and appears in every textbook
on animal behavior. Yet even the most widely accepted ideas in science can be
challenged, tested, and revised—and this is an integral and necessary part of
the practice of science. My own opinion of the current debate is that Brock-
mann and Sen Sarma (2009) are correct in their criticism of Grüter and Farina
(2009), but it also is likely that honey bees use a variety of cues when foraging
and are not limited only to the information encoded in the waggle dance. This
should not be surprising because most animals do show flexibility in their
behaviors—and, of course, this is the same conclusion that Gould reached
in 1975.
The alarm pheromones of honey bees already have been discussed. Many
other species produce alarm signals in the presence of potential predators. Best
known are the alarm calls of birds and of mammals. These calls may elicit
alertness (e.g., meerkats stand on their hind legs and look around for the
predator [Manser, 1999]), evasive behaviors (e.g., ground squirrels immedi-
ately run and hide in their burrows [Leger & Owings, 1978]), or attack behav-
iors (e.g., birds may gather and gang up on the predator, a behavior know as
mobbing [Grieser, 2009]). Fishes in some species, when attacked by a preda-
tor, release an alarm substance that causes other fishes nearby to quickly swim
away from the area of the injured fish (Chivers & Smith, 1994).
These are certainly not the only contexts in which animals use signals and
displays for communication. However, they are likely the most common.
INFORMATION CONTENT
Peter Marler (1961), one of the pioneers in the study of animal communi-
cation, proposed that most signals carry information about five different
aspects of the sender: (1) species identity, (2) individual identity, (3) sexual
identity, (4) physiological condition/motivation, and (5) information about
the environment.
Species Identity
Most communication is intraspecific, and most species produce signals that
differ from those of even other closely related species (e.g., Roelofs & Comeau,
1969; Muroyama & Thierry, 1998; Fitzpatrick & Gray, 2001; Guillete et al.,
2010). Thus, almost by definition, most signals will carry information about
the species of the sender. Depending on the situation, receivers may respond
to this information in different ways. For example, courting males and females
68 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
may use these signals to determine whether their prospective mate is a member
of their own species (e.g., Blair, 1964; Roelofs & Comeau, 1969; Gray &
Cade, 2000). If it is not, then typically the courtship is aborted and the ani-
mals continue searching for an appropriate conspecific partner. Signals that
help prevent hybridization mistakes by identifying the species of the sender
are known as behavioral (or ethological) isolating mechanisms.
Individual Identity
Many signals (but not all) also contain information about the individual
identity of the sender (reviewed in Halpin, 1986; Vaché et al., 2001). Individ-
ual identity can be used in many different contexts. In many mammals, the
individual odors of nest mates are learned during early life, and later used to
discriminate between siblings and non-siblings (Halpin, 1991; Tang-
Martínez, 2001). Likewise, parents may learn the individual odors of their off-
spring and then use the information to restrict parental care to their own
young. Both of these cases are considered examples of kin recognition.
Among social species it is often important to discriminate between neighbors
and strangers, between friend and foe, and between individuals of higher and
lower social rank. Ground squirrels have been found to respond very differ-
ently to the odors of their neighbors as compared to those of conspecifics from
other social groups (Harris & Murie, 1982). Using playback experiments, it
has been demonstrated that birds can distinguish between the songs of their
territorial neighbors and unfamiliar intruders (e.g., Wunderlee, 1978; Lovell
& Lein, 2004). Many ungulates (e.g., sheep [Ovis aries] and cattle [Bos taurus])
seem to use a variety of different cues, including visual, acoustic, and chemical,
to determine the individual identity of conspecifics (e.g., Alexander & Shillito-
Walser, 1978; Barfield et al., 1994; Ligout & Porter, 2004; Ligout et al.,
2004). Even among invertebrates, mantis shrimp respond differently when
presented with the odor of an individual they have previously defeated, as
compared to that from an individual that has defeated them (Caldwell,
1985). In the first instance they approach the odor and perform meral dis-
plays; in the second, they immediately flee and hide. All of these examples
(and there are many others) imply that animal can extract information on
individual identity from the signals produced by conspecifics. Although some-
what different in nature, signals that convey information on individual iden-
tity may also allow for recognizing group members (e.g., Keil et al., 2012).
These types of signals are of particular importance in certain social species.
For example, social insect, such as some bees, are known to distinguish the
odors of hive members from those of intruders (Breed, 1998). In this case
the cue appears to hive-specific (a hive odor) and not an individual odor per se.
ANIMAL COMMUNICATION 69
Sexual Identity
Some signals contain information on the sex of the sender. In some cases,
the signal is produced by only one sex, which automatically provides informa-
tion on the sender’s sexual identity. For example, although in many tropical
bird species both males and females sing, in most North American songbirds
only males sing (Marler & Slabbekoorn, 2004; Slater & Mann, 2004).
In other species, specific signals indicate sex of the sender. Morphological
structures or colors may vary greatly between males and females in some spe-
cies (e.g., birds and insects), thus providing a clear visual signal that indicates
sex (e.g., Badyaev & Hill, 2003; Emlen et al., 2005; Ribak et al., 2009). Neo-
tropical singing mice are able to distinguish the sex of senders by their odors
(Fernández-Vargas et al., 2008). Many other examples exist involving the
various modalities of communication.
Physiological Condition/Motivation
The physiological condition of an individual will affect its motivation and,
consequently, its behavior. When we speak of physiological condition, most
frequently we are referring to the animal’s hormonal profile and neural pro-
cesses at any point in time. As examples, among vertebrates, high levels of tes-
tosterone in males are correlated with sexual and aggressive motivations and
behaviors; in females an increase in certain hormones and a concomitant
decrease in others bring about estrus and lead to the production of particular
signals and displays that indicate the female is in reproductive condition
(e.g., Vandenbergh, 1969; Dunbar, 1977; Fernández-Vargas et al., 2008).
The songs and visual displays performed by the males of many bird species
during courtship are signals that the male is physiologically ready and moti-
vated to mate (Fusani, 2008). The same signals, conveying the same informa-
tion (reproductive condition and motivation), may also signify threats when
directed at other males. Likewise, females use signals that indicate their will-
ingness to mate: female birds perform a conspicuous copulation solicitation
display in which the female crouches and elevates the tail, exposing the cloaca
(Harju, 1971; Yasukawa et al., 1987), and female rodents perform lordosis (a pos-
ture in which the female bends the body, raises its rump in the air, wiggles the ears,
moves the tail to one side exposing the vagina, and produces squeak-like vocaliza-
tions [Beach, 1976]). In both instances these displays signal sexual readiness and
are invitations for the male to mount. Sex pheromones produced by female mam-
mals and insects also are examples of signals that indicate readiness to mate.
Threat and submissive displays, respectively, carry the message that the
sender is motivated to attack or is more likely to behave submissively. During
70 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
any agonistic encounter, the motivation of the two participants may vary rap-
idly, going from being very aggressive to being frightened and submissive.
These motivational changes can be signaled almost from second to second
by the displays of the opponents (see the section “Typical- and Variable-
Intensity Displays”).
Other motivational states, such as parental care or hunger (e.g., in offspring
that depend on parents for food) also fall into this category (Redondo & Arias
de Reyna, 1988). Of course, in general, every species will have its own signals
and displays to communicate various physiological and motivational states.
The previous discussions under the contexts of communication include many
other relevant examples.
the displaying male (e.g., his health, survival potential, strength, or stamina).
and females use this information in selecting which male to mate with (Hill,
1991; Kayser & Hill, 2000). Likewise, signals used during agonistic encoun-
ters may not simply say, “I am feeling aggressive”; rather, they may communi-
cate the status or fighting ability (i.e., the quality) of the sender (Pryke et al.,
2001; Wyman et al., 2008). Note that in both cases, such signals would do
more than simply communicate physiological condition or motivation.
Metacommunication
Another interesting category includes signals that serve to modify the meaning
of other signals. The best-known example is the “play bow” of dogs (http://4
hpetpals.osu.edu/images/dogPlayful.jpg). When dogs signal that they want to
play they assume a particular posture: head down, forelegs stretched out in front,
rump in the air, tail wagging (Bekoff, 1995). The message is not only that the dog
wants to play but also that all behavior that follows will be done in play and is not
to be interpreted as real aggression. Thus, behaviors such as growling, barking,
lunging, or jumping on the play partner are modified into play behaviors rather
than maintaining their original threat function. Signals or displays that modify
the meaning of other signals or displays are considered an example of metacom-
munication—that is, communication about communication (Bekoff, 1995).
Intention Movements
Most animals, just before they perform a behavior, will engage in move-
ments and activities that are predictive of what the animal is about to do.
72 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Autonomic Behaviors
When animals are cold or scared, they may fluff up their fur or feathers
either to keep warm or as an automatic response to something frightening (this
is where the expression “I was so scared that my hair was standing on end”
comes from). Such behaviors are automatic physiological responses that are
not under the direct control of the animal; they have nothing to do with com-
munication. Now consider a dog that is signaling that it is highly motivated to
behave aggressively—chances are that its hackles (the fur on its shoulders and
upper back) will be raised. This “piloerection” is believed to be derived evolu-
tionarily from the piloerection that happens as an autonomic response
(Morris, 1956). Some scent marking behaviors (e.g., with urine or feces) are
likewise believed to be derived from normal urination or defecation (Morris,
1956). Similarly, erection of the penis, sometimes made more conspicuous
by bright coloration, is used by some primates as a threat display (Wickler,
1967). It has been proposed this signaling behavior is derived from automatic
erection of the penis during copulation.
Displacement Activities
During conflict situations, animals will sometimes suddenly stop what they
are doing and briefly perform another, apparently totally unrelated, behavior.
For example, when two birds are fighting, one of them might suddenly stop
and start preening itself for a few seconds before returning to the fight. These
behaviors are called displacement activities and are thought to function to
relieve high levels of tension that are likely to occur during conflict situations
(Zeigler, 1964). In some birds (e.g., some ducks) courting males include a dis-
play that consists of very conspicuously preening their wing feathers; other
related species simply point to the edge of the wing in an exaggerated and very
stereotyped display (Lorenz, 1972). The area that is preened or pointed to is
ANIMAL COMMUNICATION 73
likely to be very colorful, which makes the display even more striking. This is
considered an example of a courtship display that comes from a displacement
activity.
Ambivalent Behaviors
In conflict situations, when animals are undecided and their motivation
changes quickly from one instant to the next, they may perform ambivalent
behaviors. For example, a bird attempting to defend her eggs from an
approaching predator may charge the predator but then immediately run back
towards the nest; an individual in an agonistic encounter with a conspecific
may alternate between approaching its opponent and running away from it.
In all such cases it appears that the animals cannot decide what to do, so it
alternates between two mutually contradictory behaviors. A number of dis-
plays seem to have evolved from ambivalent behaviors. Niko Tinbergen
(1951) described the courtship and breeding behavior of the stickleback
(Gasterosteun aculeatus). Sticklebacks are small fish in which the male defends
a territory, builds a nest, and courts passing females. If a female is interested,
she will enter the territory, lay eggs in the male’s nest, and leave; the male stays
behind and takes care of the eggs. The courtship display of the male stickle-
back is called the “zig-zag dance” because the male will repeatedly alternate
between approaching the female and then swimming away from her, doing a
zig-zag towards and away from the female (Tinbergen, 1951). In gulls, there
is a “facing away” or “head flagging” display (Tinbergen, 1959). Again during
courtship, the male and the female rapidly alternate between looking at each
other and then quickly looking away, moving the head repeatedly back and
forth in an exaggerated and stereotyped manner. These displays are considered
to be modified ambivalent behaviors that have evolved into displays.
Redirected Behaviors
Again, in conflict situations, one or both participants may suddenly attack
objects in the environment (e.g., rocks or tree trunks) or even subordinate
bystanders. In such cases, it is assumed that the animal is directing aggression
at a “safe” target that is not capable of retaliating (Moynihan, 1955; Tinbergen,
1959). This in turn may relieve some of the aggression in the animal. During
both agonistic and courtship displays, some species use behaviors reminiscent
of redirected aggression. The previously discussed example of chimps slapping
the ground and vigorously shaking branches (Muller & Mitani, 2005) might
be another example of redirected aggression, although the exact motivation of
such displays is not really known.
74 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
http://d3bdn46jsbygsl.cloudfront.net/144_snowy_egret.jpg
http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bOKmjbY7wEo/S5gTdchiR4I/AAAAAAAACC0/
iJqC_i4OfdI/s320/Greater+Sage+Grouse.jpg
http://standingoutinmyfield.files.wordpress.com/2012/06/blue-bird-of
-paradise.jpg?w=529
For example, a courtship display consisting of the legs-bent, head-forward,
open-wings posture (described above) is displayed in exactly the same, very
stereotyped manner regardless of whether the sender is very highly motivated
or only moderately motivated to mate. And if, during the display, the sender
suddenly becomes more highly motivated, the appearance of the display will
not change. Levels of motivation can, nonetheless, be communicated by the
frequency or duration of the display. Consider an analogy of a doorbell. The
sound of the doorbell never changes, regardless of whether the bell-ringer is
very anxious to get you to come to the door or is very patient. The sound of
ANIMAL COMMUNICATION 75
the doorbell is the form. For example, a laid-back bell-ringer will ring the
doorbell once for a relatively short duration and then wait. But a bell-ringer
who is very anxious to get your attention can ring the doorbell repeatedly in
a short period (increase in frequency) or can press the doorbell button and
keep it pressed so that the doorbell rings for an extended period (increase in
duration). This is exactly what happens in a typical-intensity display: the form
is constant regardless of the exact motivational level of the sender, but level of
motivation can still be communicated by the frequency or duration of the dis-
play. Although there are no set rules, many courtship displays tend to be of
typical intensity, with the form communicating only a motivation to mate
(examples in Morris, 1957; Hinde, 1970).
In contrast, in variable- or graded-intensity displays, the sender’s level of
motivation is indicated by continuous changes in the form of the display
(e.g., Leyhausen, 1956). Images of variable- or graded-intensity displays can
be found in the following links.
IS COMMUNICATION HONEST?
So far, all the information I have provided is considered the traditional or
classical perspective of animal communication. Richard Dawkins and John
Krebs (1978) argued that this perspective misses the point because, in their
view, what we have discussed as communication is really all about manipula-
tion and deception—animals will “lie” (give out misinformation) to attain their
goals. For example, they suggest that when an animal is engaged in an agonistic
interaction it will do whatever is necessary to defeat the opponent. A subordi-
nate individual has no interest in accurately communicating to the opponent
that it is frightened and submissive; instead it should “bluff” the opponent by
performing threat displays that signal high levels of aggression—the animal lies
to obtain its goal of outcompeting the opponent. Similarly, according to
Dawkins and Krebs, a male courting a female should not “tell the truth” about
his social status or quality—instead he should pretend to be of very high status
and quality even if, in reality, he is of inferior quality. The goal of the male is to
mate with the female, and he will lie to manipulate the female into accepting
him as a mate.
These ideas provoked a strong reaction. Robert Hinde (1981), a highly
respected British animal behaviorist, suggested that Dawkins and Krebs had
misrepresented the traditional view of communication and erected a ‘straw
man.’ Both Hinde (1981) and W. John Smith, another student of communi-
cation (Smith, 1977, 1986) argued that Dawkins and Krebs’s perspective did
not make sense from an evolutionary perspective. For example, lying and
deception could only evolve if there was little or no fitness cost to these
ANIMAL COMMUNICATION 77
INTERSPECIFIC COMMUNICATION
The discussion up to this point has concentrated on intraspecific communi-
cation. The obvious question is whether communication can also occur
84 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
between members of different species. The answer is yes, although most com-
munication does appear to be intraspecific. Nonetheless, interspecific commu-
nication has been demonstrated in several different contexts.
One context involves alarm calls. Several studies have shown that birds of dif-
ferent species respond to the calls of heterospecifics. For example, Magrath and
colleagues (2009) recorded normal alarm calls from three Australian species and
then conducted a playback experiments to determine the responses of the three
species to heterospecific calls. Two species, the superb fairy wren (Malurus cya-
neus) and the white-browed scrubwren (Sericornis frontalis), often flock together
and have common predators. Each species recognized the “hawk alarm calls” of
the other species and immediately sought cover. The situation with the third spe-
cies, a honeyeater (Phylidonyris novaehollandiae), was more complicated. Honey-
eaters only respond to scrubwren alarm calls, while fairy wrens and scrubwrens
both respond to honeyeater calls. Primates also are known to respond to hetero-
specific alarm calls. In one experiment, Klaus Zuberbühler (2000) demonstrated
that Diana and Campbell’s monkeys (Cercopithecus campbelli) reacted with alarm
to one another’s calls. Even more interesting is the case of a bird, the yellow
casqued hornbill (Ceratogymna elata), which responds to the “eagle alarm calls”
of the Diana monkey but not to “leopard alarm calls”; both crowned eagles
(Stephanoaetus coronatus) and leopards (Panthera pardus) prey on Diana mon-
keys, but only the eagle preys on hornbills (Rainey et al., 2004). Thus, the horn-
bill not only recognizes the alarm calls of a mammal but also discriminates
appropriately between calls that indicate two different categories of predator.
Another area in which interspecific communication may be important is
prey-predator interactions. In fact, some researchers have suggested that alarm
calls in birds and mammals, and behaviors such as stotting and spronking in
ungulates, actually communicate information to the predator. Alarm calling
or spronking may be pursuit-deterrence signals, although this notion remains
relatively controversial (Caro, 1995). The idea is that the sender is “saying” to
the predator one of two things: (1) “I have seen you and am taking evasive
action—you can’t surprise me, so you are wasting your time pursuing me”
or (2) “I am of such high quality that I can afford the risk of letting you know
that I am here; I am of such good quality that I can escape, so you are wasting
your time pursuing me.”
Although there has been a great deal of discussion about pursuit-deterrence
signals and behaviors, few studies have demonstrated that this type of commu-
nication actually occurs. One exception is a series of experiments conducted
by Manuel Leal (1999) on a Puerto Rican lizard (Anolis cristatellus) and its
snake predator (Alsophis portaricencis). Leal used carefully controlled experi-
ments to demonstrate that the lizard displays when approached by the snake
ANIMAL COMMUNICATION 85
and that the display frequency of the lizard is positively correlated with its
stamina in a running apparatus. This result suggests that lizards that display
at higher frequencies are also more likely to be able to outrun the snake. More-
over, other observations and experiments indicate that when Alsophis observe a
lizard displaying, they may be less likely to attack (Leal & Rodriguez-Robles,
1995). There are, however, some problems with this latter study because of
small sample sizes and the inability to adequately control the hunger level
and motivation of the snakes (Manuel S. Leal, personal communication).
Nonetheless, this is one of the most convincing studies of possible prey-
predator communication. Additionally, it provides evidence that the
frequency of the lizard display may be an honest signal, accurately indicating
running ability and the likelihood of escaping from a snake that attacks.
Another interesting example of what appears to be a pursuit-deterrence sig-
nal is described by Matthew Barbour and Rulon Clark (2012), in a ground
squirrel–rattlesnake system. Under natural field conditions, California ground
squirrels (Otospermophilus beechei) tail-flag (conspicuously wave their tail from
side to side) when they detect a snake. Free-ranging rattlesnakes (Crotalus ore-
ganus oreganus), which normally prey on these squirrels, are less likely to strike
and more likely to leave the area when an adult squirrel approaches them and
tail-flags. The authors conclude that tail-flagging possibly communicates that
the squirrel is vigilant; this might indicate to the snake that the squirrel will
not be an easy target; the snake may then go to another area where it might
have better luck catching a less vigilant squirrel. Although many questions
remain, it is also possible that tail-flagging is simply a “nervous” gesture by
squirrels that have seen a snake; however, if both snakes and squirrels are able
to extract relevant information, the behavior could have two effects: deterring
snake attacks and alerting other squirrels to the presence of danger. Not all
responses given by prey in response to predators always have such clear-cut
beneficial results. For example, Jan Randall and Marjorie Matocq (1997)
found that footdrums produced by banner-tailed kangaroo rats (Dipodomys
spectabilis) frequently deter predator gopher snakes (Pituophis melanoleucus
affinis) from stalking and attacking the footdrumming individual; higher
amounts of footdrumming resulted in decreased rates of stalking. The conclu-
sion is again that footdrumming acts as a deterrent by informing the snake that
its intended prey is alert and vigilant. However, the exact results depended on
the hunger level of the snakes; nonhungry snakes were more likely to avoid the
footdrumming, while hungry snakes investigated and came closer. Moreover,
because kangaroo rats also use footdrumming in territorial displays, it appears
that snakes that are very hungry may actually eavesdrop on the territorial dis-
play and use the footdrums to locate and capture prey. Thus, this is a case in
86 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
which there are not only important benefits but also potential costs even if the
signal in some contexts serves to deter predators.
Finally, mutualistic interactions often require interspecific communication.
Here I discuss only two examples among many. Honeyguides (e.g., Indicator
indicator) are African birds that are known to guide honey badgers (Mellivora
capensis) and humans to bee colonies (Dean & MacDonald, 1981; Isack &
Reyer, 1989). The honeyguide, by making certain calls, communicates that
it has found a beehive and recruits honey badgers or humans to follow it.
Once at the hive, the badger or human tears into the hive and takes the honey;
the honeyguide, which by itself is not capable of breaking open a beehive, also
benefits because it obtains food in the form of wax and exposed larvae.
One of the most amazing mutualisms involves the cleaner fish (e.g., Lab-
roides dimidiatus). These fishes, which are very small and live in coral reefs,
set up “cleaning stations” attended by many different species of larger fish,
including many large and voracious predators. “Customer fish” line up and
wait their turn to be cleaned. Labroides starts by picking off dead cells and par-
asites from the body of the “customer” but eventually enters the mouth to
remove debris and decaying food from between the teeth, entrance to the gills,
and throat of the customer (Feder, 1966; Côté, 2000). During this time, the
large predator fish rests in a trance-like state, with its mouth wide open while
the cleaner goes in and out. Clearly, such a potentially dangerous interaction
(especially for the cleaner) requires unequivocal communication between
cleaner and customer. As might be expected, the cleaners and customers have
evolved certain signals to ensure that the interaction is carried out in a mutu-
ally beneficial manner (Feder, 1966; Côté, 2000). Both cleaner and customer
benefit from this mutualistic interaction because the cleaner gets food (debris,
parasites) and the customer is rid of noxious pathogens and other irritants.
CONCLUSIONS
In this chapter I have attempted an introduction to a very vast field of study
in animal behavior. In addition to the many areas that I have covered there are
many others that I simply could not include because of space limitations. Sim-
ilarly, my examples are not exhaustive, and many other, equally fascinating
examples exist for virtually every topic that I discuss. My goal was to give
you a general idea of what we mean by animal communication, introduce
you to classical concepts and perspectives, and familiarize you with some of
the more modern developments and debates. If nothing else, I hope that after
reading this chapter you have become aware of the complexity of this field and
of the need for much more research in this area.
ANIMAL COMMUNICATION 87
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am grateful to Ken Yasukawa for inviting me to write this chapter and for
his careful reading of the original manuscript and many helpful suggestions for
improvement and on references. I also thank the members of the University of
Missouri–St. Louis’s Animal Behavior Discussion Group, including most spe-
cially Aimee Dunlap and Stan Braude, for illuminating discussions on the
issue of signals, information, and intentionality. Gabriel Francescoli gener-
ously e-mailed me a package of relevant references that were invaluable. I also
thank Steve Glickman, Roy Caldwell, and the late George Barlow for encour-
aging and nurturing my interest in communication ever since my graduate
school days. As always, I am grateful to Arlene Zarembka for her support
and patience during the time that I was completely engrossed in writing this
chapter, and most especially for her assistance in cross-checking references
and proofing parts of the manuscript.
Leal, M. (1999). Honest signaling during prey-predator interactions in the lizard Ano-
lis cristatellus. Animal Behaviour, 58, 521–526.
Leal, M. & J. A. Rodriguez-Robles. (1995). Antipredator responses of Anolis cristatel-
lus (Sauria: Polychrotidae). Copeia, 1995, 155–161.
Leger, D. W & D. H. Owings. (1978). Responses to alarm calls by California ground
squirrels: Effects of call structure and maternal status. Behavioral Ecology and
Sociobiology, 3, 177–186.
Leyhausen, P. (1956). Das verhalten der katzen (Felidae). Handbook of Zoology (Berlin),
8, 1–34.
Ligout S., M. Keller & R. H. Porter. (2004). The role of olfactory cues in the dis-
crimination of agemates by lambs. Animal Behaviour, 68,785–792.
Ligout, S. & R. H. Porter. (2004). The role of visual cues in lambs’ discrimination
between individual agemates. Behaviour, 141, 617–632.
Lorenz, K. (1972). Comparative studies on the behavior of Anatinae. In P. H. Klopfer
& J. P. Hailman (eds.), Function and Evolution of Behavior: An Historical Sam-
ple from the Pen of Ethologists (pp. 231–258). Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley.
Lovell, S. F. & M. R. Lein. (2004). Neighbor-stranger discrimination by song in a
suboscine bird, the alder flycatcher, Empidonax alnorum. Behavioral Ecology.
15, 799–804.
Magrath, R. D., B. J. Pitcher, & J. L Gardner. (2009). An avian eavesdropping net-
work: Alarm signal reliability and heterospecific response. Behavioral Ecology,
20, 745–752.
Majolo, B., R. Ventura, & N. Koyama. (2005). Postconflict behavior among male
Japanese macaques. International Journal of Primatology, 26, 321–336.
Maklakov, A. A., T. Bilde, & Y. Lubin. (2003). Vibratory courtship in a web-
building spider: Signaling quality or stimulating the female? Animal Behaviour,
66, 623–630.
Manser, M. B. (1999). Response of foraging group members to sentinel calls in suri-
cates, Suricata suricatta. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 266,
1013–1019.
Marler, P. (1961). The logical analysis of animal communication. Journal of Theoreti-
cal Biology, 1, 295–317.
Marler, P. & H. Slabbekoorn. (2004). Nature’s Music: the Science of Birdsong. San
Diego, CA: Elsevier Academic Press.
Møller, A. P. (1988). False alarm calls as a means of resource usurpation in the great
tit Parus major. Ethology, 79, 25–30.
Morgan, E. D. (2008). Trail pheromones of ants. Physiological Entomology, 34, 1–17.
Morris, D. (1956). The feather posture of birds and the problem of the origin of social
signals. Behaviour, 9, 75–113.
Morris, D. (1957). “Typical intensity” and its relation to the problem of ritualization.
Behaviour, 11, 1–12.
Moynihan, M. (1955). Some aspects of the reproductive behavior of the black-headed
gull (Larus rudibundus rudibundus L.) and related species. Behaviour Supple-
ment, 4, 1–201.
ANIMAL COMMUNICATION 93
Von Frisch, K. (1967). The Dance Language and Orientation of Bees. Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press.
Von Hippel, F. A. (2000). Vigorously courting male sticklebacks are poor fathers.
Acta Ethologica, 2, 83–89.
Wager, B. R. & M. D. Breed. (2000). Does honeybee sting alarm pheromone give
orientation information to defensive bees? Annals of the Entomological Society
of America, 93, 1329–1332.
Wallace, B. (1973). Misinformation, fitness, and selection. American Naturalist, 107,
1–7.
Wenner, A. M. (1967). Honey bees: Do they use the distance information contained
in their dance maneuver? Science, 155, 847–849.
Whittaker, D. J., D. G. Reichard, A. L. Dapper, & E. D. Ketterson. (2009). Behav-
ioral responses of nesting female dark-eyed juncos, Junco hyemalis, to hetero-
and conspecific passerine preen oils. Journal of Avian Biology, 40, 579–583.
Whittaker, D. J., K. M. Richmond, A. K. Miller, R. Kiley, C. Bergeon Burns, J.
Atwell, & E. D. Ketterson. (2011). Intraspecific preen oil odor preferences in
dark-eyed juncos (Junco hyemalis). Behavioral Ecology, 22, 1256–1263.
Whittaker, D. J., H. A. Soini, J. W. Atwell, C. Hollars, M. V. Novotny, & E. D. Ket-
terson. (2010). Songbird chemosignals: Preen oil volatile compounds vary
among individuals, sexes, and populations. Behavioral Ecology, 21, 608–614.
Wickler, W. (1967). Socio-sexual signals and their intraspecific imitation among pri-
mates. In D. Morris (ed.), Primate Ethology (pp. 69–147). London: Weiden-
feld and Nicholson.
Wilson, E. O. (1975). Sociobiology. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Wilson, E. O. & W. H. Bossert. (1963). Chemical communication among animals.
Recent Progress in Hormone Research, 19, 673–716.
Wunderlee, J. M. (1978). Differential responses of territorial yellowthroats to the
songs of neighbors and non-neighbors. Auk, 95, 389–395.
Wyatt, T. D. (2003). Pheromones and Animal Behaviour: Communication by Smell and
Taste. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Wyman, M. T., M. S. Mooring, B. McCowan, M. C. T. Penedos, & L. A. Hart.
(2008). Amplitude of bison bellows reflect male quality, physical condition
and motivation. Animal Behaviour, 76, 1625–1639.
Yasukawa, K., R. L Knight, & S. K. Skagen. (1987). Is courtship intensity a signal of
male parental care in red-winged blackbirds (Agelaius phoenicius)? Auk, 104,
628–634.
Young, J. C., R. M. Silverstein, & M. C. Birch. (1973). Aggregation pheromone of
the beetle Ips confusus: Isolation and identification. Journal of Insect Physiology,
11, 2273–2277.
Zahavi, A. (1975). Mate selection—selection for a handicap. Journal of Theoretical
Biology, 53, 205–213.
Zahavi, A. (1977). The cost of honesty (further remarks on the handicap principle).
Journal of Theoretical Biology, 67, 603–605.
ANIMAL COMMUNICATION 97
INTRODUCTION
The process of sexual selection underlies the way that individuals choose
mates and produce offspring in nature (Darwin, 1871). The opportunities
and choices that an individual may make are governed by both physiological
and phylogenetic constraints, the types of social interactions and potential-
mate encounters an individual experiences, the method of parental care
employed, and a whole host of ecological factors that may influence the breed-
ing biology of individuals within a population. The sum total of these mating
and reproductive opportunities and the methods used to estimate the strength
and direction of sexual selection are the subject of this chapter: mating systems
and the measurement of sexual selection.
Mating-system research is a rapidly growing field with the specific aim to
understand the rich variety of reproductive behaviors, sex roles, and expres-
sion of secondary sexual traits that abound in nature. Historically, the term
mating system refers to a behavioral strategy employed by a population of
animals to obtain mates (Emlen & Oring, 1977), including various aspects
of sexual selection such as mate choice and mate competition, parental care,
and ecological factors that may influence the degree of multiple mating
within a population. Today, interest in mating-system research has expanded
considerably and now encompasses various alternative mating behaviors and
100 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
The first principle that can be deduced from this passage is that a causal rela-
tionship exists between the mating system and the presence of secondary sex-
ual characters. Here, Darwin recognized that the degree to which secondary
sexual characters are expressed depends strongly on the degree of multiple
mating within a population. The second principle that Darwin identified is
the relationship between the strength of sexual selection and the sex ratio.
He understood that if the sex ratio was skewed toward one sex (males in this
instance) then the other sex would become limiting, and therefore intrasexual
competition would increase on the nonlimiting sex. Thus, a greater bias
towards the nonlimiting sex should result in stronger sexual selection
acting on the nonlimiting sex (Trivers, 1972; Emlen & Oring, 1977;
MATING SYSTEMS AND THE MEASUREMENT OF SEXUAL SELECTION 101
Clutton-Brock, 1991). Taken together, these ideas provided the raw materials
for the theoretical framework for modern-day mating-system research.
A renewed interest in sexual selection occurred in the latter part of the
twentieth century with the introduction of two theories, anisogamy and
parental investment theory. The theory of anisogamy (Parker et al., 1972)
posited that the differential investment into the production of gametes by
males and females gave rise to the evolution of sexual selection and conflict
between the sexes. The theory of anisogamy is predicated on the fact that
males produce many small, motile sperm whereas females produce large, non-
motile, and nutritious eggs. As a result of this differential investment, males
are predicted to compete more intensely for fertilization opportunities, gener-
ating a male-biased operational sex ratio under normal conditions. Although
both theories speak more to the underlying differences in the sexes rather than
the actual mechanisms of sexual selection (Kokko & Jennions, 2008), they set
the stage for further development of theories concerning the fundamental con-
flict between the sexes driving sexual selection and mating system evolution.
sites is uniform and all individuals are reproductively receptive at the same
time, then the ability of a single individual to monopolize multiple mates is
diminished. If, on the other hand, mating is asynchronous such that only a
few individuals are receptive at a particular time and resources are spatially
clumped, for instance around a particularly nice patch of resources, then the
ability of a particular individual to monopolize multiple mates is greatly
increased. The resulting mating systems predicted to evolve from these scenar-
ios are monogamy and polygamy (either polygyny or polyandry, depending
on the monopolizing sex), respectively. While these two scenarios lie at the
two extremes of the environmental potential for polygamy continuum, one
can envision a multitude of situations where both the temporal availability of
mates and the spatial distribution of resources are variable and may differ
between the sexes, thereby setting the stage for the evolution of different mat-
ing systems. An important point here is that because temporal availability of
mates and spatial distributions of resources are likely to fluctuate in a particu-
lar habitat or population, this model also has the implicit assumption that
mating systems can be flexible and are not necessarily fixed for a population.
The final major contribution by Emlen and Oring (1977) was the elabora-
tion on the concept of the operational sex ratio, which quickly became a
cornerstone of mating-system theory. Originally described in Emlen (1976,
p. 309) as “the ratio of receptive females to potential mating males at one
time,” the operational sex ratio was presented as an instantaneous measure of
both the intensity and direction of mate competition, and hence sexual selec-
tion. Emlen and Oring (1977) also point out that skewed operational sex
ratios have the ability to manipulate which mating system would be most
likely to evolve in various conditions, such as polygyny under male-biased
conditions and polyandry under female-biased conditions.
In the time since Emlen and Oring’s (1977) publication, two major devel-
opments led to increased interest in mating-system research and, ultimately, a
new appreciation of the intricacies of sexual selection. The first such advance-
ment is a theoretical framework for quantifying sexual selection that combines
elements of mating-system theory with selection theory, thereby bridging the
gap between sexual selection, mating-system organization, and quantitative
selection theory (Wade, 1979; Arnold & Wade, 1984; Arnold & Duvall,
1994; Shuster & Wade, 2003; Jones, 2009). The second such advancement
was the technological development of molecular markers that opened a flood-
gate of molecular inquiries into patterns of parentage or genetic mating sys-
tems in natural populations (Avise, 2004; Jones et al., 2005). The
combination of these two major advancements has solidified the field of mat-
ing systems, propelling research into the twenty-first century.
MATING SYSTEMS AND THE MEASUREMENT OF SEXUAL SELECTION 103
deviations (s0 max) and clarified some earlier misconceptions on the actual maxi-
mum strength of selection.
Today, quantitative methods to measure sexual selection and mating sys-
tems remain a controversial topic and are subject to vigorous debate (e.g.,
Klug, Heuschele, et al., 2010; Krakauer et al., 2011). Although some progress
has been made to synthesize the various methods, attempts to reach a consen-
sus on the most appropriate methods appear to be unattainable in the near
future. Theoretical advancements to mating-system theory have thus far out-
paced rigorous empirical testing, although recent work is beginning to bridge
the knowledge gap by investigating different quantitative mating-system mea-
surements under various ecological scenarios (Jones et al., 2005; Mills et al.,
2007; Mobley & Jones, 2007, 2009; Barreto & Avise, 2010; Fitze & Le
Galliard, 2011). Further empirical testing and refinement of theory is clearly
warranted and will be necessary to settle this dispute in the future.
1994; Petrie & Kempenaers, 1998; Griffith et al., 2002; Westneat & Stewart,
2003).
Today, it is generally recognized that a complete understanding of sexual
selection in the wild requires some knowledge of the genetic mating system.
Their widespread availability and low cost, along with advances in parentage
analysis (Jones & Ardren, 2003; Jones et al., 2010), have made molecular
markers easy to apply to many different animal mating systems. Coupled with
new quantitative approaches for the measurement of sexual selection, we now
have a framework for testing specific hypotheses concerning the evolution of
mating systems, the direction of sexual selection, and selection on individual
traits associated with mating and reproductive success.
This brief synthesis highlights the important methodological and theoreti-
cal advances in the field of mating systems to date. However, it should be
noted that this treatment glosses over significant contributions of many others
that have increased our overall understanding of mating systems. For example,
other noteworthy milestones include Fisher’s contributions to sex-ratio theory
(Fisher, 1930), James F. Crow’s formulation of the opportunity for selection
(Crow, 1958, 1962), and the mathematical formulation of spatial distribution
analysis by mean crowding by Monte Lloyd (1967), just to name a few.
TERMINOLOGY
Despite over 150 years of research in mating systems, the field suffers from
a lack of generally accepted terminology, and attempts to disambiguate various
definitions have met with limited success (Emlen & Oring, 1977; Reynolds,
1996). For example, if you initiate a literature search for “mating systems,”
you are likely to find an equal number of references concerning animal mating
systems and plant mating systems. A quick perusal would suggest zoologists
and botanists have divergent views of what comprises a mating system, com-
plete with separate lexicons (Reynolds, 1996; Sakai & Westneat, 2001).
Although the emphases of plant and animal mating systems may appear to
be different, in actuality both are concerned with patterns of parentage within
populations. Animal mating systems are primarily concerned with patterns of
sexual selection within populations (Emlen & Oring, 1977; Reynolds, 1996;
Jones et al., 2004), while plant mating systems focus on rates and consequen-
ces of selfing (Sakai & Westneat, 2001; Shuster, 2009). Thus, animal and
plant mating systems can be unified with the concept of the parental table,
which summarizes the genetic parentage of all progeny in a breeding popula-
tion by ascribing the number of progeny produced by each potential pairing
regardless of whether the offspring are produced by selfing or outcrossing
106 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
(Arnold & Duvall, 1994). Another method for unifying plant and animal
mating systems is via spatial and temporal mean crowding (Shuster,
2009), a mathematical interpretation of the original spatial and temporal dis-
tributions of resources as discussed in Emlen and Oring (1977).
For the purposes of this chapter, I will use the general definition of a mating
system as the behavioral strategy of a population employed in obtaining mates
and reproductive opportunities, following Emlen and Oring (1977, Box 4.1).
At the most basic level, animal mating systems can be divided into monoga-
mous (having a single mate) or polygamous (having more than one mate)
(Box 4.1). Because polygamy is not a particularly useful term with respect to
the direction of sexual selection, it can be broken down into further subcatego-
ries to reflect whether males mate multiply (polygyny, stronger sexual selection
Box 4.1
Definitions of commonly used terms to describe mating systems
The lexicon of social mating systems has been reviewed extensively, and
precise definitions, as well as the social and ecological contexts under which
social mating systems have evolved, exist (Emlen & Oring, 1977; Thornhill
& Alcock, 1983; Reynolds, 1996; Shuster & Wade, 2003). Genetic mating
systems, on the other hand, have received considerably less attention in the lit-
erature. To illustrate how to apply genetic-mating-system terminology, let us
take the breeding biology of the family Syngnathidae (pipefish, seahorses,
and seadragons) as an example. Syngnathids have a specialized reproductive
mode where females transfer eggs to the male during copulation and the male
provides all care to the developing offspring. Within this family, several
genetic mating systems have evolved in different species, including
monogamy, polyandry, and polygynandry (Jones & Avise, 2001; Wilson et
al., 2003; Coleman & Jones, 2011; Mobley et al., 2011). In the seahorses
(Hippocampus spp.), males and females develop extensive pair bonds and male
seahorses do not accept eggs from additional females. Thus, during a single
pregnancy, a male is truly genetically monogamous as judged by several par-
entage studies (Jones et al., 1998; Wilson & Martin-Smith, 2007). In all but
a few rare occasions, females do not breed a second time during the pregnancy,
as it takes nearly the same amount of time for a female to mature a new clutch
of eggs as a male takes to brood and release offspring. Therefore females can
also be considered genetically monogamous (Foster & Vincent, 2004; Mobley
et al., 2011). In pipefishes of the genus Syngnathus, females generally produce
more eggs than a single male can brood during a single male pregnancy (Ber-
glund et al., 1986, 1989; Scobell et al., 2009), and hence the potential for
polygamous mating systems, both polyandry and polygynandry, is expected
to evolve. Indeed, several species of Syngnathus exhibit polygynandry where
both males and females mate multiply during a single pregnancy, as well as
polyandry where females mate multiply but males mate with just one female
during a pregnancy (reviewed in Jones & Avise, 2001; Mobley et al., 2011).
Today, it is known that both males and females in the majority of taxo-
nomic groups can mate multiply such that strict genetic monogamy, polyg-
yny, and polyandry are rare, and therefore knowledge of different levels of
qualitative and quantitative measurements may be more useful to compare
between sexes, populations, and species.
and (2) quantitative measurements that capture the direction and intensity of
sexual selection using variance-based, quantitative theoretical approaches
(Table 4.1). In general, if you are interested in understanding how demogra-
phy and social interactions influence the direction and intensity of mate com-
petition, parental investment, and the organization of social mating systems,
then qualitative measurements of the mating system such as the operational
sex ratio and the potential reproductive rate are typically employed. If, on
the other hand, you would like to investigate how a particular trait is related
to mating and reproductive success, or whether or not sexual selection is likely
to occur in your own particular population or species, then quantitative mea-
surements of sexual selection based on variance in mating and reproductive
success would be more appropriate.
Qualitative methods
Operational sex ratio The ratio of males to females ready Predicts the direction and Emlen, 1976; Emlen & Oring,
(OSR) to mate in a population at a given intensity of mate competition 1977
time based on a population sample of
adults.
Potential reproductive The maximum number of Predicts the direction of sexual Clutton-Brock & Vincent,
rate (PRR) independent offspring that parents selection in species with biparental 1991; Clutton-Brock & Parker,
can produce per unit of time care. 1992
Mean spatial crowding The number of available mates or Predicts the direction and Lloyd, 1967; Shuster & Wade,
110
Opportunity for sexual Variance in mating success Standardized variance in mating Wade & Arnold, 1980
selection (IS) divided by the mean mating success success. Must be > 0 for selection
squared to operate.
Bateman gradient ( SS) The slope of the weighted least- Linear relationship between Arnold & Duvall, 1994
squares regression of reproductive mating and reproductive success.
success on mating success Must be > 0 for selection to
operate.
Sex difference in sexual Difference of the opportunity for In purely polygynous mating Shuster & Wade, 2003
selection (Imates) selection of males (Imales) and the systems, the sex difference in the
opportunity for selection of females opportunity for selection I
(Ifemales) at a sex ratio of unity represents the reproductive success
111
Index of resource Ratio of observed variance in Measure of variance based on a Ruzzante et al., 1996; Kokko et
monopolization (Q) mating success to the maximum Poisson distribution. al., 1999
possible variance in mating success
corrected by the expected variance
when all mate acquisition
probabilities are equal.
Sexual selection on
traits
Standardized selection Covariance between trait values The strength of selection on a Lande ,1979; Lande & Arnold,
differential (s0 ) and relative reproductive success. trait relating to reproductive 1983
success in the univariate case.
Standardized mating Covariance between trait values The strength of sexual selection Jones 2009
differential (m0 ) and relative mating success. on a trait relating to mating
success in the univariate case.
Standardized selection The partial regression of relative For multiple trait analysis, the Lande, 1979; Lande & Arnold,
gradient ( 0 ) reproductive success or relative overall contribution of a particular 1983; Arnold & Duvall, 1994
mating success on a trait. trait to the sexual selection process
while holding all other traits
constant.
MATING SYSTEMS AND THE MEASUREMENT OF SEXUAL SELECTION 113
intensely for access to males, is largely dependent upon the operational sex
ratio (Vincent et al., 1992; Kvarnemo & Ahnesjö, 1996).
The operational sex ratio is an instantaneous ratio of ready-to-mate males to
females in a given population (Emlen & Oring, 1977; Kvarnemo & Ahnesjö,
1996). For many reasons, not all adults can mate at any particular point in
time. For example, individuals may be excluded from mating due to processes
associated with inter- or intrasexual competition, or perhaps they may choose
to delay reproduction until they acquire the proper prerequisites to mating
such as a territory or sufficient food resources (Kvarnemo, 1996; Ahnesjö et
al., 2001). Moreover, adults may need sufficient time after mating to become
prepared to reproduce again. Therefore calculations of the operational sex ratio
should include all individuals that are able to mate in a population but not
those that are physiologically (but not environmentally) unprepared to mate
at a given time.
Mathematically, the operational sex ratio can be expressed either as a simple
ratio of males to females (m/f ) (Emlen & Oring, 1977) or as a relative ratio of
males to total number of adults in a population [m/(m+f )] (Kvarnemo &
Ahnesjö, 1996). While both expressions are often used interchangeably
throughout the literature, it should be noted that they are not equivalent
and have different mathematical properties. The simple ratio resembles the rel-
ative ratio near equality (i.e., equal numbers of males and females) but has
asymptotic ends at highly skewed operational sex ratios (Figure 4.1). Thus,
the simple ratio should be scaled logarithmically to help normalize the data
(Figure 4.1). However, to aid comparisons between studies and for any linear
analysis of the operational sex ratio, the relative expression is preferable
because of its linear properties (Figure 4.1). Significant deviations from an
operational sex ratio of equality are generally tested with either a χ 2
goodness-of-fit or a similar test (e.g., Fisher’s exact test), which compares the
numbers of observed individuals with the number of expected individuals
under a sex ratio of equality (or a skewed adult sex ratio in some instances).
Because this ratio is calculated on the actual numbers of individuals, these tests
are independent of the two methods to calculate the operational sex ratio (Fig-
ure 4.1).
Several variants of the operational sex ratio theme can found in the litera-
ture. First, the operational sex ratio can be expressed as the ratio of the amount
of “time in” invested by each sex (Clutton-Brock & Parker, 1992). Here, time
in is equal to the amount of time when an adult is sexually active or capable of
mating, and time out is the amount of time resting or preparing for mating.
Thus, the direction and intensity of mating competition can arise when sexes
invest differentially in such factors as parental care or spend more time
Figure 4.1. Properties of the operational sex ratio of a population of 50 sexually mature
adults calculated using a simple ratio [log10(m/f )] or as a relative ratio [m/(m/f )]. As
the operational sex ratio becomes more skewed, the simple ratio is asymptotic, whereas
the relative ratio remains linear. The zone of equality is calculated as an operational sex
ratio that does not deviate significantly from a sex ratio of unity (χ2 two-tailed P < 0.05).
Note that the zone of inequality corresponds to the same ratio of m/f in both calculations.
MATING SYSTEMS AND THE MEASUREMENT OF SEXUAL SELECTION 115
available for mating than the opposite sex. The operational sex ratio can also
be expressed as a competitor-to-resource ratio (CRR), or the number of poten-
tial competitors divided by the number of resource units, when resource units
are members of the opposite sex (Grant et al., 2001). The advantage of this
formulation is that it allows for the direct comparison of behavior of males
and females on a similar scale (e.g., Clark & Grant, 2010). Additionally, the
ratio of males and females qualified to mate (Q) has been advocated in situa-
tions where individuals need to acquire a specific resource such as a nest site
prior to mating (Ahnesjö et al., 2001). The authors argue that the quantity
Q provides a more accurate measure of operational sex ratio by excluding indi-
viduals that are physically able to mate but are not qualified to mate (Ahnesjö
et al., 2001). However, one should bear in mind that this measure offers an
incomplete picture of sexual selection as individuals that do not hold a re-
source are excluded via competitive interactions and, as such, are actually part
of mate competition (Shuster & Wade, 2003).
Empirical studies support that the operational sex ratio correctly predicts
the strength and direction of sexual selection in many populations and species
(reviewed in Thornhill & Alcock, 1983; Andersson, 1994; Kvarnemo &
Ahnesjö, 1996; Mitani et al., 1996; Weir et al., 2011). A recent meta-
analysis of 27 cross-taxa empirical studies comparing the operational sex ratio
with mate competition demonstrated that the operational sex ratio correctly
predicts the direction of aggression, courtship, and mate-guarding behaviors
but not necessarily postcopulatory mate competition such as sperm competi-
tion (Weir et al., 2011).
Despite the overwhelming empirical support for this theory, the opera-
tional sex ratio has been scrutinized for several reasons. Chief among the crit-
icisms is that the mathematical formulation of the operational sex ratio may
not correctly predict the intensity of mate competition and is decoupled from
mating systems (Kokko & Jennions, 2008; Shuster, 2009). For example, two
hypothetical breeding populations of five ready-to-mate males and females will
have an identical operational sex ratio of unity whether a single male monop-
olizes all five females (polygyny) or all five males have a single exclusive mate
(monogamy). Although this example is extreme, it clearly illustrates that the
operational sex ratio does not correctly predict the strength of sexual selection
among populations with disparate mating systems (Shuster, 2009).
Additional misunderstandings may arise when considering how the opera-
tional sex ratio is quantified in various species. For instance, depending on
the species of interest it may be difficult to tell whether an individual is in fact
ready to mate without invasive techniques, adding imprecision to the meas-
urement, particularly in small populations. Moreover, because the operational
116 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
theoretical sampling scale for mean spatial crowding might best be approxi-
mated by territory size or perhaps mean perception or interaction distance
(i.e., the mean distance at which an individual either notices or interacts with
another individual, respectively). However, this may be difficult to investigate
empirically in many species, so one might often need to make an educated
guess as to what the scale might actually be for one’s own particular study sys-
tem point (Lloyd, 1967; Shuster & Wade, 2003). Shuster and Wade (2003)
recommend a spatial scale that gives the greatest patchiness as a reasonable
starting point. Mean temporal crowding, on the other hand, can best be
defined in terms of the temporal availability of mates within a breeding season.
If all individuals of one sex are available to breed at one particular time, then
this would represent a maximum receptivity, and competition would be lim-
ited. Conversely, minimum receptivity represents a situation where all individ-
uals of one sex become sexually active sequentially such that the ability of the
opposite sex to monopolize mates becomes realistic in time. Thus, maximum
and minimum breeding receptivity for a particular population set an upper
and lower limit to mean temporal crowding, and scaling should reflect the
mean receptivity (Shuster & Wade, 2003).
Mean spatial crowding has been applied to various mating systems, and
studies show varying support for the link between mean spatial crowding
and competitive interactions, depending on the species and social mating sys-
tem (Wade, 1995; Kwiatkowski & Sullivan, 2002; Kelly, 2008; Pomfret &
Knell, 2008; Casalini et al., 2010). For example, species with resource-
defense social mating systems do not always show a relationship with mean
spatial crowding and the intensity of mate competition (Kwiatkowski & Sulli-
van, 2002; Kelly, 2008; Casalini et al., 2010), and this discrepancy is likely
due to different behavioral strategies employed under various competitive sit-
uations. Temporal crowding, on the other hand, has not been widely applied
to empirical research, although this approach could be especially rewarding
in understanding breeding synchrony in a variety of species. Mean spatial
and temporal crowding are also part of a theoretical framework for classifying
mating systems with the sex difference in sexual selection (Imates; Shuster &
Wade, 2003), so we return to these measures in that section.
and produces offspring with more than one mate, than the variance in mating
success is not equal among members of that sex, given a sex ratio of equality.
This nonrandom variance in Darwinian fitness generated through differential
mating success is a mathematical formulation connected directly with
Darwin’s original definition of sexual selection.
Quantitative measurements of sexual selection, particularly if they are com-
bined with precise genetic parentage information, offer an instantaneous snap-
shot of all precopulatory sexual selection in a population without any special
reference or need to quantify behavioral mate competition or specific traits
of interest. However, an underlying assumption in all variance-based methods
is that both mating and reproductive success can be accurately measured for a
reasonable number of individuals within a population. This may pose a real
problem in some species for a variety of reasons. For example, it may be diffi-
cult to assess with accuracy parentage in populations where numbers of adults
are too large to completely sample or when the number of adults and progeny
are too few to provide enough statistical power (Jones & Ardren, 2003). Fur-
thermore, variance-based approaches require careful estimation of the number
of adults that are ready to mate but do not breed in a population. These indi-
viduals that are able but are excluded from breeding are sometimes referred to
as the zero class because they have zero mating success (Shuster & Wade,
2003). While there are no hard-and-fast rules concerning who to include in
the zero class, researchers need to make a special effort to clarify and justify
who they include as these individuals can have a disproportionate effect on
the observed variance in mating and reproductive success (Shuster & Wade,
2003; Klug, Lindström, et al., 2010; Fitze & Le Galliard, 2011). Finally,
researchers should clarify which offspring they include when measuring repro-
ductive success. Although the argument can be made for including only off-
spring that reproduce, for many species this requires too much time or
expense to be a viable option. Therefore the number of developed embryos
or independent offspring produced during a breeding bout would be a reason-
able estimate of reproductive success.
Bateman’s Principles
The renewed interest in Bateman’s work in the 1970s provided a theoreti-
cal framework for sexual selection centered on both the variation in mating
and reproductive success. Based in large part on the verbal arguments made
by Bateman (1948), three specific points were articulated and are now referred
to as Bateman’s principles (Arnold, 1994). To reiterate, the three principles
are (1) the sex experiencing the strongest sexual selection has a greater variance
in reproductive success, (2) the sex experiencing the strongest sexual selection
120 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
has a greater variance in mating success, and (3) the relationship between
reproductive success and mating success increases with the intensity of sexual
selection (Arnold & Duvall, 1994). Each of these three principles correspond
to the mathematical formulation of the opportunity for selection (I), the
opportunity for sexual selection (Is) and the sexual selection gradient (or
Bateman’s gradient; βss), respectively. Together, Bateman’s principles pro-
vide a means to predict the potential for sexual selection to occur in a sex
within a generation without necessarily knowing which traits may be under
selection.
Opportunity Measures
The first of Bateman’s principles, the opportunity for selection, is equiva-
lent to the strength of selection arising from the standard variance in fitness
attributable to reproductive success for each sex and is sometimes referred to
as reproductive skew. The opportunity for selection can be calculated as the
variance in reproductive success divided by the mean reproductive success
squared, or , where 2 is the variance in number of offspring and
is the mean number of offspring per individual in a population (Crow,
1958, 1962; Wade, 1979). An alternative and numerically identical approach
to estimating I is to calculate the variance in relative reproductive success by
dividing each individual’s absolute reproductive success by the mean repro-
ductive success for each sex (Jones, 2009).
The opportunity for selection is equivalent to the rate that absolute fitness
increases in a population relative to the standing variance in absolute fitness,
assuming all variance is due to additive genetic effects (Jones, 2009). Thus, I
represents a theoretical maximum rate at which selection may act on a popula-
tion in terms of offspring production (Wade, 1979). However, Jones (2009)
demonstrated that the true theoretical maximum response to selection of any
trait is actually , which has the added advantage of being in units of trait
phenotypic standard deviations. The change in fitness from one generation
to the next is likely to be less than predicted by I (or ) because not all vari-
ance in fitness in a population is due to additive genetic variance (Jones,
2009). Therefore researchers often refer to I (and Is) as a mathematical upper
limit for selection operating in a single generation and hence an “opportunity”
measure.
The opportunity for sexual selection (Is) is similar in all respects to the cal-
culation of I with the exception that it focuses on the standard variance in mat-
ing success for each sex in a population (Wade, 1979). Thus, Is is calculated as
the variance in mating success divided by the mean mating success squared, or
MATING SYSTEMS AND THE MEASUREMENT OF SEXUAL SELECTION 121
can help explain the myriad of social and genetic mating systems in existence
including sex-role reversal, alternative mating behaviors, and plant mating sys-
tems (Shuster & Wade, 2003; Shuster, 2009).
Male bias 0.75 Male 48 0.44 0.46 2.42 1.56 59.2 11899.2 3.39 1.84 141.5 1.04 1.62 3.28 0.14 0.36
Female 16 1.31 0.50 0.29 0.54 177.7 10801.7 0.34 0.58 20.0 0.15 0.08 0.05 –0.14
Even 0.52 Male 48 1.35 0.87 0.48 0.69 153.2 20282.9 0.86 0.93 114.6 1.01 0.70 0.57 0.20 0.36
Female 45 1.49 0.66 0.30 0.55 164.9 8634.0 0.32 0.57 22.4 0.20 0.11 0.03 –0.10
Reversed sex roles: Syngnathus typhle
pffiffiffiffi pffiffiffi
Treatment OSR Sex N X ms ms Is Is X X rs rs I I ss 0 ss s0 max Imates* m0 s0
Female bias 0.24 Male 13 2.23 1.19 0.24 0.49 58.4 1286.9 0.38 0.61 15.4 0.59 0.29 −6.57 0.05 0.37
Female 42 0.69 0.71 1.48 1.22 18.1 702.3 2.15 1.47 27.9 1.07 1.30 0.04 0.23
Even 0.48 Male 20 1.70 0.85 0.30 0.54 41.0 1162.4 0.69 0.83 19.0 0.79 0.43 –0.03 0.14 0.51
Female 22 1.36 0.81 0.44 0.66 34.0 763.3 0.66 0.81 17.5 0.70 0.46 0.25 0.38
Male bias 0.73 Male 32 1.31 1.45 0.84 0.92 30.8 1181.0 1.25 1.12 29.4 1.25 1.15 1.17 0.32 0.60
Female 12 2.92 1.54 0.18 0.43 70.1 942.8 0.19 0.44 14.5 0.61 0.26 −0.03 0.22
*
Imates is calculated using the general formula ascribed in Shuster & Wade (2003).
MATING SYSTEMS AND THE MEASUREMENT OF SEXUAL SELECTION 129
tail crest, which appears to be under sexual selection (Janzen & Brodie, 1989;
Jones et al., 2002). Males mate multiply, and females can lay multiple clutches
of mixed paternity, and therefore the species is considered to be polygynan-
drous (Jones et al., 2002).
In this experiment, Jones and colleagues (2005) mated breeding popula-
tions of either a male-biased treatment of six males and three females or an
even-sex-ratio treatment of six males and six females (Table 4.2). Under
male-biased conditions, we would expect that sexual selection would be
strongest among males either through male-male competition or female
choice. Thus, mating-system estimates such as Is, I, 0 ss, and s0 max as well as
selection differentials (m0 , s0 ) on male tail height should be higher on males
in the male-biased treatment over the even-sex-ratio treatment.
Under male-biased sex ratios, females mated on average three times as much
as males, leading to higher estimates of for females although ms was similar
for both sexes. Male was likewise reduced, and both sexes shared similar esti-
mates of rs. Under a sex ratio of equality, male and female and were
similar, and ms was also comparable, leading to similar values of Is. However,
because some males produced more offspring than others in the even-sex-ratio
treatment, the variance in male reproductive success (rs) was twice the rs for
females, leading to higher estimates of I, ss, 0 ss, and s0 max for males. As
expected, in male-biased cases with conventional sex ratios, the strengths of sex-
ual selection as measured by Is, I, ss, 0 ss, and s0 max were all greater in males than
in females and greater in females than in males in the even-sex-ratio treatment. It
is interesting to note that female mating-system estimates were surprisingly sim-
ilar between the two treatments, strongly suggesting that females are limited in
their reproductive potential and that the addition of more mates does not sub-
stantially influence mating and reproductive success. Finally, the sex difference
in the opportunity for selection (Imates) shows that the strength of sexual selection
is stronger in males under male-biased conditions.
For selection on the sexually selected trait of tail height, both m0 and s0 were
similar among males in both operational sex ratios despite a nearly double
potential for sexual selection on traits as judged by s0 max (Table 4.2). Females,
on the other hand, had small estimates of both m0 and s0 , indicating sexual
selection to be weak or nonexistent in females. In summary, all mating-
system estimates, including those specifically on a trait under selection, agree
with the prediction that sexual selection in this species is stronger on males,
although a more strongly biased operational sex ratio towards males does not
necessarily increase sexual selection on male traits.
The second example comes from a study conducted by Jones and
colleagues (2005) on the broad-nosed pipefish (Syngnathus typhle). Males
130 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
and females mate multiply within a single pregnancy, and thus the particular
population of interest is polygynandrous with respect to the genetic mating
system (Jones et al., 1999). In the wild, this species generally encounters
highly female-biased operational sex ratios and is sex-role reversed in relation
to the direction of sexual selection (Berglund et al., 1986; Vincent et al.,
1994). Therefore the a priori expectation is that sexual selection should act
most strongly on females under conditions of an operational sex ratio of
equality.
In this experiment, a change in operational sex ratio from male bias to female
bias showed an increase in male and a concomitant decrease in female
(Table 4.2). These changes in means were primarily driven by many males that
did not mate in the male-biased treatment. An opposite relationship, namely a
decrease in male and an increase in female , was apparent with an
increasing female bias. While the male ms was variable between treatments,
female ms decreased with decreasing female bias, and the rs of both males
and females remained similar between treatments with some slight variations.
As the operational sex ratio shifts from a female bias to a male bias, the resulting
mating-system estimates Is, I, βss, β0 ss, and s0 max all show a clear pattern of increas-
ing in males while decreasing in females (Table 4.2, Figure 4.2). The sex differ-
ence in the opportunity for selection (Imates) also shows a clear pattern of
increasing from female bias to male bias, demonstrating that this measurement
correctly predicts sex-role reversal as evidenced by negative values encountered
at sex ratios of equality and female bias.
Interestingly, selection differentials on body size demonstrate conflicting
patterns between the sexes. The highest m0 and s0 on male body size are found
in the male-biased treatment, and this is in line with the expectation that larger
males enjoy higher mating and reproductive success because they can carry
more offspring in their brood pouch. Selection on female body size, on the
other hand, appears to be highest in the even-sex-ratio treatment, suggesting
stabilizing selection on female body size (Jones et al., 2005).
FUTURE CHALLENGES
Thus far we have explored the history and current theory concerning mat-
ing systems and the evolution of sexual selection. Although much progress
has been made, still more work is required in order to gain a deeper apprecia-
tion for the intricacies of mating-system evolution. In particular, uncovering
the causal link between social and genetic mating systems, investigating how
mating systems vary both spatially and temporally, understanding the myriad
of social and ecological influences on mating system organization, and
MATING SYSTEMS AND THE MEASUREMENT OF SEXUAL SELECTION 131
Mating-System Variation
Sexual selection can manifest considerable variation between populations
and at different times (Mobley & Jones, 2007; Cockburn et al., 2008; Gosden
132 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
& Svensson, 2008; Cornwallis & Uller, 2009; Mobley & Jones, 2009).
Certainly part of this variation is due to both spatial and temporal environ-
mental heterogeneity. Variation may also arise because behavioral traits and
responses to selection may be plastic in space and time (Cornwallis & Uller,
2009). Populations that experience disparate intensities of sexual selection
may theoretically drive patterns of speciation, strongly implying that mating-
system variation is important to the speciation process (Payne & Krakauer,
1997; Kraaijeveld et al., 2007). Thus, understanding how and why mating
systems vary is critical to decoding the process of sexual selection and the evo-
lution of different mating systems (Emlen & Oring, 1977; Shuster & Wade,
2003; Cornwallis & Uller, 2009).
Thus far, only a few studies concerning variation in mating systems have
been conducted, and therefore the underlying causes of mating-system varia-
tion are not well known. Often, mating-system studies focus on one exemplar
population at one specific time, and therefore the degree to which the mating
system varies is a black box in many cases. Part of the problem with con-
ducting studies within and among populations is the large expense and work
required to completely characterize the mating systems. However, studies
along these lines would pay dividends for elucidating specific factors that influ-
ence mating-system organization by mapping mating-system parameters to
specific details of the timing, habitat, and social interactions encountered over
various spatial or temporal scales. For example, studies that investigate mating
systems in multiple populations over broad geographic scales have identified a
wide array of ecological factors that may shape local mating-system dynamics
(e.g., Mobley & Jones, 2007, 2009).
Despite the relatively more studied underlying ecological causes for sexual
selection within seasons or mating periods (see “Ecological Mating-System
Influences”), there is surprisingly little known about what ecological variables
may drive temporal patterns of sexual selection between mating seasons or
years (Cornwallis & Uller, 2009). Recent studies suggest that variation
between years can be greater than within years (Cockburn et al., 2008;
Kasumovic et al., 2008), leading to the prediction that year-specific factors
may influence differences in sexual selection. Year-specific factors may be the
result of fluctuations in climate (Twiss et al., 2007; Cockburn et al., 2008)
or due to demographic processes (Kokko & López-Sepulcre, 2007; Gosden
& Svensson, 2008; Kasumovic et al., 2008). However, variation between years
might not be attributable to any particular environmental variable measured,
suggesting that in some cases sexual selection may fluctuate between years
for unknown reasons (Lehtonen et al., 2009). Thus, comparing variation in
mating and reproductive success within and between years should illuminate
MATING SYSTEMS AND THE MEASUREMENT OF SEXUAL SELECTION 133
CONCLUSIONS
The classification of animals by various reproductive behaviors related to
the sexual selection process has garnered much interest in the times since Dar-
win’s formulation of the theory of sexual selection. As we have seen in this
chapter, the field of animal mating systems is dynamic and prone to conten-
tious debate, making it one of the most exciting fields in animal behavior.
Although we have made much progress, a dizzying array of questions related
to mating systems and sexual selection is still left outstanding. For example,
what accounts for the stunning diversity of social and genetic mating systems?
Why do some lineages experience strong sexual selection and others do not? How
might divergence in mating systems contribute to the speciation process? Why do
various forms of parental care evolve? Why are some species sex-role reversed? What
are the demographic and ecological factors that influence mating system organiza-
tion? While definitive answers to these questions seem out of reach at the
moment, one thing is clear from our continued study of sexual selection—it
is a powerful evolutionary process that explains a staggering variety of behav-
ioral and morphological traits in animals. In the future, the study of mating
systems will continue to grow, and further theoretical refinement in concert
with carefully conceived behavioral experiments and field surveys should lead
to the ultimate goal of understanding how sexual selection operates in nature.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I thank Malte Andersson, Tonje Aronsen, Anders Berglund, Inês Braga-
Gonçalves, Charlotta Kvarnemo, Gunilla Rosenqvist, Sebastian Wacker, and
Bob Wong for insightful discussions. I am particularly indebted to Adam
Jones and Steve Shuster for providing valuable advice and encouragement
throughout the years.
136 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Casalini, M., M. Reichard, & C. Smith. (2010). The effect of crowding and density
on male mating behaviour in the rose bitterling (Rhodeus ocellatus). Behaviour,
147, 1035–1050.
Clark, L. & J. W. A. Grant. (2010). Intrasexual competition and courtship in female
and male Japanese medaka, Oryzias latipes: Effects of operational sex ratio and
density. Animal Behaviour, 80, 707–712.
Clutton-Brock, T. H. (1991). The Evolution of Parental Care. Princeton, NJ: Prince-
ton University Press.
Clutton-Brock, T. H. & G. A. Parker. (1992). Potential reproductive rates and the
operation of sexual selection. Quarterly Review of Biology, 67, 437–456.
Clutton-Brock, T. H. & A. J. C. Vincent. (1991). Sexual selection and the potential
reproductive rates of males and females. Nature, 351, 58–60.
Cockburn, A., H. L. Osmond, & M. C. Double. (2008). Swingin’ in the rain: Con-
dition dependence and sexual selection in a capricious world. Proceedings of the
Royal Society of London, B, 275, 605–612.
Coleman, S. W. & A. G. Jones. (2011). Patterns of multiple paternity and maternity
in fishes. Biological Journal of the Linnean Society, 103, 735–760.
Cornwallis, C. K. & T. Uller. (2009). Towards an evolutionary ecology of sexual
traits. Trends in Ecology and Evolution, 25, 145–152.
Croshaw, D. A. (2010). Quantifying sexual selection: A comparison of competing
indices with mating system data from a terrestrially breeding salamander. Bio-
logical Journal of the Linnean Society, 99, 73–83.
Crow, J. F. (1958). Some possibilities of measuring selection intensity in man.
Human Biology, 30, 1–13.
Crow, J. F. (1962). Population genetics: Selection. In W. J. Burdette (ed.), Methodol-
ogy in Human Genetics (pp. 53–75). San Francisco: Holden-Day.
Darwin, C. (1871). The Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex. London: John
Murray.
Downhower, J. F., L. S. Blumer, & L. B. Brown. (1987). Opportunity for selection:
An appropriate measure for evaluating variation in the potential for selection?
Evolution, 41, 1395–1400.
Dunn, P. O., L. A. Whittingham, & T. E. Pitcher. (2001). Mating systems, sperm
competition, and the evolution of sexual dimorphism in birds. Evolution, 55,
161–175.
Eberhard, W. G. (1996). Female Control: Sexual Selection by Cryptic Female Choice.
Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Eberhard, W. G. (2009). Postcopulatory sexual selection: Darwin’s omission and its
consequences. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 106,
10025–10032.
Emlen, S. T. (1976). Lek organization and mating strategies in bullfrog. Behavioral
Ecology and Sociobiology, 1, 283–313.
Emlen, S. T. & L. W. Oring. (1977). Ecology, sexual selection and the evolution of
mating systems. Science, 197, 215–223.
138 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
INTRODUCTION
When Darwin conceived his theory of evolution through natural selection
(Darwin, 1859), he immediately recognized the power of the idea. Natural selec-
tion provided a unifying explanation for a tremendous range of natural phenom-
ena. Unfortunately, and much to Darwin’s consternation, the umbrella of
evolution by natural selection could not quite accommodate the whole of bio-
logical diversity. In particular, it could not adequately explain two of the most
fantastic features of animals: ornaments and armaments (Figure 5.1).
Within the realm of behavioral ecology, an ornament is a trait that enhances
the appearance (in the broad sense that potentially involves any sensory percep-
tion) of an animal, sometimes to the detriment of survival. Elongated feathers,
dewlaps, manes, fleshy wattles, bright coloration, songs, roars, conspicuous move-
ments, and an array of additional sense-stimulating traits of animals appear to be
ornaments (Figure 5.2). An armament, in contrast, is a trait that can serve as an
aid in contests with conspecifics but that is not required for foraging or
protection from predators. Armaments include traits like horns, antlers, spurs,
and—most commonly—a big, strong body. To explain ornaments and arma-
ments, Darwin had to conceive of a mechanism for evolution beyond natural
selection. Whereas Darwin (1859) proposed that natural selection promotes the
maintenance and spread of traits that enhance survival or fecundity, he presented
sexual selection as a process that promotes the maintenance and spread of traits
that enhance access to mates (Darwin, 1871). Darwin reasoned that, for a
sexually reproducing organism, staying alive and having the capacity to produce
offspring are for naught without access to a mate.
146 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 5.1. The large antlers of this bull elk (Cervus canadensis) certainly appear to be
armaments. Research indicates, however, that females assess the size and symmetry
of antlers during mate choice, so, like many traits, elk antlers may function as both
armaments and ornaments.
to behavioral responsiveness, that connects the drive to find a mate with the
evolution of traits such as red feathers and pheromones. Obviously, female
choice of mates and physical contests between males play out as behavioral
interactions, but more subtly, sensory perception and behavioral responsive-
ness also play roles in contests for mates when there is assessment prior to
physical confrontation. Because humans are visual animals, we tend to think
of sensory assessment in terms of vision, but animals use a wide range of sig-
naling modes to present their ornaments and armaments, including pheromo-
nal, chemical, electrical, acoustical, and tactile. An ornament can be a plume
of volatile alkaloids released by a moth (Iyengar et al., 2001) just as much as
it can be the visually stunning train of a peacock (Petrie et al., 1991).
sex can also skew the availability of mates and drive sexual selection even when
an equal number of males and females are present (Andersson, 1994; Ligon,
1999). Such a skew in operational sex ratio occurs most commonly under a
polygynous mating system in which individual males mate with more than
one female (Ligon, 1999). Extra-pair copulation can also increase the avail-
ability of a few males to many females and hence alter the operational sex ratio
of a population (Westneat & Stewart, 2003). Other circumstances that allow
individuals of one sex to monopolize more than one individual of the opposite
sex, such as a temporally staggered period of sexual receptivity, also lead to sex-
ual selection (Stutchbury & Morton, 1995).
to the evolution of armaments was widely accepted and never seriously chal-
lenged in the behavior and evolution literature (see Cronin, 1991). In con-
trast, prior to Darwin, ornamental traits were traditionally viewed as the
product of special creation whose purpose was to make the world more inter-
esting and enjoyable for humans (see Hill, 2002). From the outset, framing
evolutionary explanations for how ornamental traits evolved proved challeng-
ing and contentious. There was a long period of debate in the late nineteenth
and early twentieth centuries regarding whether female mate choice played
any role in the evolution of ornaments. It is now universally accepted that
female mate choice is an important force in the evolution of ornaments, and
debate has shifted to the process of ornament evolution. The evolution of
ornaments via female choice remains a highly contentious topic in biology
with many hypotheses proposed and no clear consensus among researchers
(Prum, 2010).
In the following sections, I will outline each of the major hypotheses that
have been proposed to explain the evolution of ornaments and armaments
and review the evidence in support of each.
Figure 5.3. The curved horns of a male bighorn sheep (Ovis canadensis) serve as bat-
tering rams during dramatic and violent contests for harems of females. There are
few clearer cases of secondary sexual characteristics serving as armaments.
Box 5.1
Ornamental traits in territorial animals
Songbirds are among the most ornamented animals. They flash a rainbow of
colors; make some of the most complex, loud, and lovely sounds in nature;
carry long and elaborate feathers; and engage in dramatic displays. With few
exceptions, male songbirds lack an intromittent organ, so forced copulation
is typically not possible. Songbirds would seem to be a taxon in which
female mate choice has selected for a wide array of ornaments, and indeed,
in some songbirds, long tails, colorful feathers, and song are criteria in
female mate choice (Hill, 2006). But most songbirds are also highly
territorial, and the quality of the territory that a male defends has a large
effect on female reproductive success (Emlen & Oring, 1977). Perhaps
not surprisingly, in several territorial and highly ornamented songbirds,
females show no mating preference for more highly ornamented males,
but male ornamentation plays an important role in contests for territories
(e.g., eastern bluebird [Sialia sialis] [Liu et al., 2007; Siefferman & Hill,
2005]). In these songbirds, apparent ornaments are really armaments. Few
species of songbirds have been carefully studied, so at this point there is
no way to assess whether colorful feathers and complex songs most
frequently function as ornaments or armaments.
studies have shown that song and plumage coloration—two traits that appear
to be ornaments—predict male success in acquiring the most preferred territo-
ries and procuring access to mates (e.g., Pryke & Andersson, 2003; Siefferman
& Hill, 2005) (Box 5.1). Increasing the coloration of males makes potential
rivals approach them more carefully and less frequently, and decreasing
coloration causes males to be challenged more (examples in Hill, 2010).
Hence, armaments can exist either as weapons or as signals of fighting ability.
looked for other explanations (Cronin, 1991). Empirical studies in the late twen-
tieth and early twenty-first centuries on a range of animals from flies to primates
showed definitively that female choice can select for ornamentation (Andersson,
1994). These studies vindicated Darwin’s insistence that female choice was the
selective force that drove the evolution of ornaments, but they left unresolved
the question of why females used ornaments to choose males. Darwin provided
no insight on this fundamental question, and a resolution to how and why
female choice for ornamental traits evolves and how such choice leads to the evo-
lution of the range of ornaments seen in nature remains a major unresolved ques-
tion in behavioral and evolutionary biology. The gist of the discussion regarding
the evolution of ornamental traits focuses on whether elaboration of ornaments
occurs under selection for arbitrary markers of attractiveness or through female
demand for honest signals of the quality of perspective mates. I will consider each
of the major hypotheses for the evolution of ornaments via mate choice as well as
more specific mechanisms for ornament evolution.
typically function in contexts other than mate choice, such as foraging (Ryan
& Keddy-Hector, 1992). By this model, ornamental traits evolve because they
stimulate already existing sensory systems and trigger already existing positive
behavioral response mechanisms (Ryan & Keddy-Hector, 1992). As an exam-
ple, consider an animal for which red fruit is a choice dietary item such that
the animal is attracted to red objects in its environment. If a red patch of color
appeared on a prospective mate in such a species, females may be drawn to and
show positive sexual receptivity toward that male because they are predisposed
to respond positively to red objects (Rodd et al., 2002). The ornament simply
exploits preexisting sensory and behavioral response systems, and the positive
response by females leads to the spread of genes for the ornamental trait.
Some of the strongest empirical support for sensory exploitation as an
explanation for ornamental traits comes from studies of swordtail fish (genus
Xiphophorus). As their name implies, swordtails have a sword-like extension
from the base of their caudal fins. In all species with swords studied to date,
females prefer to mate with males with long swords (Basolo, 1990a). Sword-
tails are closely related to platyfish, which do not have swords. Through behav-
ioral studies it was discovered that, in some species of platyfish, females also
show a sexual preference for males with swords. Reconstruction of the evolu-
tionary history of the swordtails and platyfish showed that the evolution of
preference for swords predated the evolution of swords (Basolo, 1990b). The
implication was that swords had evolved in some fish lineages because there
was a preexisting bias that caused females to favor males with the trait.
Researchers found no benefit of the caudal extension other than sexual attrac-
tiveness. Studies of the calls of frogs (Ryan et al., 1990) and the colors of fish
(Egger et al., 2011) also support the sensory bias models.
The current attitude among research biologists concerning the sensory
exploitation model is that it is likely a factor in the evolution of ornamental
traits (see the runaway and chase-away models below) but that it is not suffi-
cient as a complete explanation for the evolution of most ornamental traits
of animals.
Chase-away model—Another model for the evolution of ornaments that is
related to the sensory exploitation model is the chase-away model of sexual selec-
tion. The foundation of this model is the fundamental conflict of interest
between males and females in sexually reproducing organisms. Earlier in the
chapter I described females as the “choosy sex” and males as the “displaying
sex,” but under the chase-away model, males would be better described as the
“coercive sex.” Male ornaments are proposed to stimulate females to mate in a
manner that benefits males but that is suboptimal for females—overstimulating
females to mate too often, at the wrong time, or with a low-quality partner
THE EVOLUTION OF ORNAMENTS AND ARMAMENTS 157
Figure 5.5. Flow charts illustrating the processes proposed by the three models for the
elaboration of ornamental traits that can account for elaboration of ornamental traits:
runaway model (Fisher, 1958), chase-away model (Holland & Rice, 1998) and
ratchet model (Hill, 1994). Under the runaway model, trait elaboration is inevitable
once the process ensues, but under the chase-away and ratchet models, elaboration is
dependent on the appearance of genetic variants among females that resist attraction
to the ornament or on the appearance of shortcut means to trait expression by males,
respectively. Evolutionary events are indicated in the boxed portion of the figure, and
forces of change are shown by arrows connecting boxes.
(Holland & Rice, 1998). The stimulatory male trait spreads because it enhances
male mating success, but the chase-away model proposes that evolutionary esca-
lation ensues. Because being attracted to the ornament is bad for females, they are
selected to evolve diminished response systems, thereby resisting the coercion of
males. As female responsiveness abates, the advantage to males of having the trait
declines such that there is selection on males for any new traits that enhance or
expand the stimulatory effect of the ornament. Escalation ensues as males are
selected to display more and more elaborate ornamentation to maintain stimula-
tion of females in the face of eroding responsiveness (Figure 5.5).
158 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
The chase-away model makes two specific predictions that are different
from other models of sexual selection (Holland & Rice, 1998). First, the
model proposes declines in female responsiveness to ornamental traits over
evolutionary time. Change in female mating preference on an evolutionary
time scale is a challenging prediction to test because it requires knowledge of
female responsiveness over the evolutionary history of the trait. Evolutionary
biologists cannot go back in time to assess female responsiveness (behavior
does not typically fossilize), but they can use phylogenetic reconstructions
for estimating the past condition of traits, including behaviors (see Chapter
2). A study involving phylogenetic reconstructions of the responsiveness of
female wolf spiders (genus Schizocosa) to tufts of bristles on males supported
predictions of the chase-away model. In species of spiders without tufts, add-
ing tufts to males made them much more sexually attractive to female spiders.
In species that had tufts, however, removing or enlarging tufts had no effect on
female sexual response. Critically, phylogenetic reconstruction showed that
tufts were a derived character and that the species without tufts never had a
tufted ancestor (McClintock & Uetz ,1996). One interpretation of these
results is that in the lineage with tufts, a chase-away process had selected for
reduced response to tufts in females (Holland & Rice, 1998; see also Box 5.2).
A second prediction of the chase-away model is that females should have
reduced rather than enhanced fitness if they mate with highly ornamented
males (Holland & Rice, 1998). The strongest empirical support for this pre-
diction of reduced female fitness comes not from studies of selection for orna-
mental traits but rather from studies of mating costs among female fruit flies in
experimentally maintained monogamous versus polygynous populations
(Rice, 1996; see Chapter 6). In lines of flies that were forced to be monoga-
mous such that the reproductive output of a male was directly tied to its single
mate, females had long lives. In lines of flies in which males competed with
other males for sexual access to multiple mates, females had shortened lives
and lower fecundity. The explanation was that when multiple mating was pos-
sible, males added toxic elements to semen to benefit themselves in competi-
tion with other males even though it was costly to females (Chapman et al.,
1995). When sexual selection was eliminated, the toxic elements in semen
declined.
Costs to females of choosing highly ornamented males have proven harder
to document. In the runaway model of sexual selection as well as the indicator
models described below, females benefit by mating with highly ornamented
males. It is universally accepted that mate choice and sexual reproduction
impose a cost on females (Andersson, 1994), but a loss of female fitness result-
ing specifically from a response to male ornamentation is a difficult prediction
THE EVOLUTION OF ORNAMENTS AND ARMAMENTS 159
Box 5.2
The paradox of rooster plumes
The red jungle fowl (Gallus gallus), the wild ancestor of the domestic
chicken, is one of the most highly ornamented birds in the world. Hens
are brown and drab while roosters have long, elaborate, and colorful feathers
covering their bodies. If asked to explain these plumes, most evolutionary
biologists would respond that female mate choice or perhaps competition
among males drove the evolution of the ornaments and now maintains
them. There would be wide consensus that the showy rooster feathers are
the result of sexual selection.
Surprisingly, experimental observations do not support either female
mate choice or male-male competition as viable explanations for the plumes
of roosters. The key experiment involved presenting hens with prospective
mates that either had normal ornamental feathers or lacked them entirely.
This experiment was possible because there is a gene, called the hen-
feathered gene, that leaves males bereft of all the ornamental plumes.
In every other respect, however, hen-feathered males are normal roosters.
They have the same fleshy head ornaments as normal males, and they retain
their male aggressiveness. J. David Ligon and Patrick Zwartjes (1995) bred
red jungle fowl so as to produce brothers that either carried or did not carry
the hen-feather gene; in other words, they created brothers that had the
feathers of hens or that had full ornamental plumes. These sets of brothers
were then used in mate-choice experiments. Amazingly, hens showed no
preference for males with ornate and colorful plumes—removing all of the
long golden and glossy ornamental plumage did not make males any less
attractive as mates. In another study, Ligon and colleagues (1990) showed
that the plumes have little or no effect on male-male contests. Among pro-
posed sexual selection hypotheses, only the chase-away model can explain
why chicken ornaments exist when there is no inter- or intrasexual selection
on the trait. According to the chase-away model, the ornamental plumes
arose because they coerced females into more mating, and females have
escaped male manipulation by evolving lack of preference for the trait.
Overall, the chase-away model may be the best current explanation for why
some ornamental traits like the gaudy plumages of red jungle fowl (Gallus gal-
lus) (Box 5.2) have no influence on the mate choices made by females. The
importance of the chase-away model as a general explanation for ornamental
traits in animals remains unknown.
Runaway sexual selection—The idea that ornamental traits could evolve
through a runaway process was first presented in a brief narrative by Fisher
(1915) on which he later elaborated (Fisher 1930, 1958). Fisher proposed that
female choice and male ornamentation could enter into a self-reinforcing pro-
cess in which both the ornamental trait and preference for the ornamental trait
could become grossly exaggerated. The concept of runaway sexual selection
was subsequently formalized in quantitative genetics models, most notably
by Russell Lande (1981) and Mark Kirkpatrick (1982), and the runaway
model (also known as the Fisherian model and the Lande-Kirkpatrick model)
remains one of the most important explanations for the evolution of ornamen-
tal traits—particularly fantastic and highly exaggerated traits (Prum, 1997).
The process of runaway sexual selection is proposed to begin with a popula-
tion of animals in which some males carry genes for a trait that bestows a fitness ad-
vantage such as a slightly longer tail that enhances flight ability. (See Arnold [1983]
for a lucid and well-illustrated presentation of the runaway model). Some females
happen to carry genes that cause them to prefer longer tails—such a preexisting
genetic bias invokes sensory exploitation (see above)—and these females benefit
because their offspring inherit the genes for longer and functionally better tails.
Both longer male tails and female preference for longer tails are beneficial, and
hence genes for both greater preference and longer tails spread in the population.
As an increasing number of females inherit genes for a preference for longer tails,
two important consequences initiate the runaway process. First, the benefits for
producing sons that are attractive as mates (“sexy sons”) begins to exceed the bene-
fits of producing sons with aerodynamic tails; in other words, the benefit of the trait
is no longer determined primarily by natural selection. Moreover, the sexy-son
benefit increases with each generation as preference for the trait increases. The
stronger the female preference for a large ornament, the greater the selection will
be on males to grow even longer tails. In turn, the longer the tails grown by males,
the greater are the benefits to females in the form of sons with long and sexy tails.
A second consequence that spurs on a runaway cycle is that the genes for
longer tails and the genes for preference for longer tails begin to be inherited
together (a process called linkage disequilibrium) (O’Donald, 1962). The
offspring of a female that has chosen to mate with a long-tailed male passes
to her offspring both the genes for longer tails and the genes for preference
for longer tails. As a consequence, when a long-tailed male has mating success,
THE EVOLUTION OF ORNAMENTS AND ARMAMENTS 161
it perpetuates both the genes for longer tails and genes for long-tail preference.
The results of ever-increasing benefits for both longer tails and preferences for
longer tails are that the trait can be elaborated to extreme endpoints and that
the direction that the elaboration takes—longer, wider, colored, curled,
forked—is constrained only by the esoteric preferences of females and by what
variations on the trait arise in the population due to mutation. Eventually, the
fitness (natural selection) costs in the form of reduced survival and fecundity
from having a burdensome ornament outweigh the benefits of sexy sons and
the runaway process is halted.
For about a 10-year period from the early 1980s to the early 1990s, theoretical
biologists attempted to test the validity of the runaway model in quantitative
genetics models that made various assumptions about the mode of inheritance
of both the ornamental trait and the preference behavior, about how rare the trait
and preference were at the start of the process, and about the costs that might be
associated with mate choice (reviewed in Andersson, 1994; Møller, 1994). These
models showed that, theoretically, the runaway sexual selection process could lead
to many evolutionary outcomes including stable equilibria (Figure 5.6).
Despite many attempts over the past four decades to test its validity, the
runaway model of sexual selection has proven difficult to test empirically
because, like the chase-away model above, true tests require assessments
during the process of trait elaboration. Assessment of the end product of a pur-
ported runaway process does not allow discrimination from other possible evo-
lutionary models. From the late 1970s into the early 1990s, the runaway model
of sexual selection was the model of sexual selection favored by theoreticians, and
it was widely presented as a definitive explanation for the evolution of ornamen-
tal traits (Andersson 1986, p. 253). Through the 1990s and into the new millen-
nium, however, interest shifted to models of adaptive mate choice (see below).
With little success at testing the runaway model of sexual selection, interest in
the process declined, and in current evolution and behavior literature, relatively
little attention is paid to the runaway model of sexual selection. Nevertheless,
the runaway model of sexual selection remains the most likely model to account
for extreme forms of ornamental traits (Prum, 2010).
Figure 5.6. Two possible scenarios for runaway sexual selection according to a model
created by Lande (1981) and illustrated by Arnold (1983). Plotted on both graphs
are the mean ornament expression by males in a population (x axis) and mean orna-
ment expression preferred by females (y axis). The vertical line near the y axis indicates
the trait expression that is optimum under natural selection. The bold line slanting
through the figure is the line of equilibrium for expression and preference, which is a
function of the intensity of natural versus sexual selection. Once a point on this line of
equilibrium is reached, male expression and female preference can remain in a stable
state indefinitely. The directional lines running toward or away from the line of
equilibrium are evolutionary trajectories predicted for expression and preference
depending on the starting, nonequilibrium conditions. The trajectory of the evolving
population is a function of the genetic covariance between female trait preference and
male trait expression (see Arnold, 1983) (a) When the genetic covariance is relatively
weak, then ornamentation reaches a stable expression with moderate elaboration.
(b) When the genetic covariance exceeds a certain magnitude, then ornamentation
evolves away from the line of equilibrium toward extreme elaboration; in other words,
a runaway process ensues. See Arnold (1983) for a detailed description.
in the form of more resources for themselves or their offspring or genes that
enhance the fitness of offspring. Females might also avoid costs associated with
mating, such as sexually transmitted disease. Models of adaptive mate choice
are collectively called indicator models of sexual selection because the orna-
mental trait is proposed to indicate important qualities of a perspective mate.
Figure 5.7. The bright yellow coloration of the fleshy ornaments of this wattled lap-
wing (Vanellus senegallus) result from carotenoid pigments. Such carotenoid colora-
tion may reveal the functionality of vital cellular processes in the displaying male.
defined as the efficiency of vital cellular processes (Hill, 2011), allowing for
phenotype and genotype (as well as epigenetic state) to affect individual condi-
tion. With ornamentation linked to challenges of trait production, cheating is
not possible—only individuals with well-functioning cellular systems can pro-
duce elaborate ornaments (Hill, 2011).
THE EVOLUTION OF ORNAMENTS AND ARMAMENTS 165
mechanisms are proposed by two models of arbitrary mate choice: the run-
away model and the chase-away model. The only model for trait elaboration
via adaptive mate choice that invokes a feedback mechanism was not given a
name when it was proposed (Hill, 1994), but I will refer to it as the ratchet
model because ornament elaboration is proposed to advance in a ratchet-like
manner (Figure 5.5).
The ratchet model begins with a simple trait that is an honest signal of indi-
vidual quality. Females benefit if they show a preference for the trait because
they receive either resources or genetic benefits. Potentially, such an ornament
can persist indefinitely as a simple indicator of quality, but there will be selec-
tion on males to evolve mechanisms to display the trait independent of their
quality. If novel genes arise for such shortcut means to cheaply produce the
ornament they will spread rapidly, and the information content of the trait
will diminish. Female preference will no longer be beneficial to females. In
response to dishonest signaling by males, there will be selection on females
to shift preferences to ornamentation that restores the association with male
quality—for instance, females will be selected to respond to larger, louder, or
more complex ornaments. The coevolutionary cycle that ensues—with males
evolving means to produce ornaments without invoking costs and with
females selecting for more elaborate and costly forms of ornaments—can
result in large, costly, and elaborate traits (Figure 5.5).
The ratchet model is similar to the chase-away model (Holland & Rice,
1998) in that both models focus on a conflict of interest between males and
females as the impetus that drives coevolutionary cycles through which orna-
ments are elaborated (Figure 5.5). In the chase-away model, females are
trapped by stimulus-response systems that cause them to make maladaptive
choices when mating. The result is ornamentation that is effective at coercing
females but that reveals nothing useful about a male. In the ratchet model, in
contrast, trait elaboration occurs in response to the demand by females for
honest signaling in males. Specific contrasting tests of these two models have
not been undertaken, but the fundamental predictions of these models—a loss
of fitness through choice for male ornamentation under the chase-away and a
gain in fitness through such choice in the ratchet model—should make the
hypotheses distinguishable.
of status linked to individual condition, they can become the target of female
mate choice and begin to function in intersexual selection. As with many other
models of sexual selection, this idea can explain the current function of orna-
mental traits but it does not provide a mechanism for trait elaboration.
SUMMARY
The armaments and ornaments have fascinated biologists since they captured
the attention of the original evolutionist, Charles Darwin. It is widely accepted
that armaments are the product of aggressive contests for mates, and this hypoth-
esis has not been modified significantly since first proposed by Darwin. The evo-
lution of ornamental traits, however, remains more controversial. After a century
and a half of work on the topic, a rich and diverse set of theories has been devel-
oped to explain how ornamental traits function and how they evolved. The origi-
nal hypothesis for the elaboration of traits via sexual selection—the runaway
model—remains the most likely explanation for many of the most gaudy and
dramatic ornaments. The idea that began as Zahavi’s handicap principle has been
modified into a more general indicator hypothesis that ornamental traits are
linked to the health and vitality of individuals. This indicator model has gained
wide support through empirical studies that find links between measures of indi-
vidual quality and ornamentation. The specific idea from Zahavi that ornaments
are handicaps to survival has been generally disproven, and ornaments are now
viewed more typically as indicators of condition whose honesty is maintained
by challenges posed by trait production. Despite the success of the indicator
model in explaining the present function of many ornamental traits, and despite
100 years of thinking about the process, we still lack a well-supported mechanism
for how grand and elaborate ornaments evolve.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Over the past two decades the Department of Biological Sciences and
College of Science and Mathematics at Auburn University have provided time
and resources for me to pursue my studies of sexual selection.
Ligon, J. D. & P. W. Zwartjes. (1995). Ornate plumage of male red junglefowl does
not influence mate choice by females. Animal Behaviour, 49, 117–125.
Liu, M., L. Siefferman, & G. E. Hill. (2007). An experimental test of female choice
relative to male structural coloration in eastern bluebirds. Behavioral Ecology
and Sociobiology, 61, 623–630.
Lozano, G. A. (1994). Carotenoids, parasites, and sexual selection. Oikos, 70,
309–311.
Maynard Smith, J. (1976). Sexual selection and the handicap principle. Journal of
Theoretical Biology, 57, 239–242.
Maynard Smith, J. (1991). Theories of sexual selection. Trends in Ecology and Evolu-
tion, 6, 146–151.
McClintock, W. J. & G. W. Uetz. (1996). Female choice and pre-existing bias: Vis-
ual cues during courtship in two Schizocosa wolf spiders (Araneae: Lycosidae).
Animal Behaviour, 52, 167–181.
Møller, A. P. (1994). Sexual Selection and the Barn Swallow. Oxford, UK: Oxford
University Press.
O’Donald, P. (1962). The theory of sexual selection. Heredity, 17, 541–552.
Petrie, M., T. Halliday, & C. Sanders. (1991). Peahens prefer peacocks with elaborate
trains. Animal Behaviour, 41, 323–331.
Pomiankowski, A. & Y. Iwasa. (1998). Handicap signaling: Loud and true? Evolution,
52, 928–932.
Prum, R. O. (1997). Phylogenetic tests of alternative intersexual selection mecha-
nisms: Trait macroevolution in a polygynous clade (Aves: Pipridae). American
Naturalist, 149, 668–692.
Prum, R. O. (2010). The Lande-Kirkpatrick mechanism is the null model of evolu-
tion by intersexual selection: Implications for meaning, honesty, and design
in intersexual signals. Evolution, 64, 3085–3100.
Pryke, S. R. & S. Andersson. (2003). Carotenoid-based status signalling in red-
shouldered widowbirds (Euplectes axillaris): Epaulet size and redness affect captive
and territorial competition. Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 53, 393–401.
Rice, W. R. (1988). Heritable variation in fitness as a prerequisite for adaptive female
choice—the effect of mutation-selection balance. Evolution, 42, 817–820.
Rice, W. R. (1996). Sexually antagonistic male adaptation triggered by experimental
arrest of female evolution. Nature, 381, 232–234.
Ripoll, J., J. Saldana, & J. C. Senar. (2004). Evolutionarily stable transition rates in a
stage-structured model: An application to the analysis of size distributions of
badges of social status. Mathematical Biosciences, 190, 145–181.
Rodd, F. H., K. A. Hughes, G. F. Grether, & C. T. Baril. (2002). A possible
non-sexual origin of mate preference: Are male guppies mimicking fruit?
Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 269, 475–481.
Rohwer, S. (1975). The social significance of avian winter plumage variability.
Evolution, 29, 593–610.
Rohwer, S. (1977). Status signaling in Harris’ sparrows: Some experiments in
deception. Behaviour , 61, 107–128.
172 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Rowe, L. & D. Houle. (1996). The lek paradox and the capture of genetic variance by
condition dependent traits. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 263,
1415–1421.
Ryan, M. J., J. H. Fox, W. Wilczynski, & A. S. Rand. (1990). Sexual selection for
sensory exploitation in the frog Physalaemus pustulosus. Nature, 343, 66–67.
Ryan, M. J. & A. Keddy-Hector. (1992). Directional patterns of female mate choice
and the role of sensory biases. American Naturalist, 139, S4–S35.
Saetre, G. P., T. Moum, S. Bures, M. Kral, M. Adamjan, & J. Moreno. (1997).
A sexually selected character displacement reinforces premating isolation.
Nature, 387, 589–592.
Siefferman, L. & G. E. Hill. (2005). UV-blue structural coloration and competition
for nestboxes in male eastern bluebirds. Animal Behaviour, 69, 67–72.
Skogsmyr, I. & A. Lankinen.(2002). Sexual selection: An evolutionary force in plants.
Biological Reviews, 77, 537–562.
Stutchbury, B. J. & E. S. Morton. (1995). The effect of breeding synchrony on extra-
pair mating systems in songbirds. Behaviour 132, 675–690.
Trivers, R. L. (1972). Parental investment and sexual selection. In B. Campbell (ed.),
Sexual Selection and the Descent of Man, 1871–1971 (pp. 136–179). Chicago:
Aldine.
von Schantz, T., G. Goransson, G. Andersson, I. Froberg, M. Grahn, A. Helgee, et al.
(1989). Female choice selects for a viability-based trait in pheasants. Nature,
337, 166–169.
Wallace, A. R. (1889). Darwinism. London: Macmillian.
Wedekind, C. & I. Folstad. (1994). Adaptive or nonadaptive immunosuppression by
sex hormones? American Naturalist, 143, 936–938.
West-Eberhard, M. J. (1979). Sexual selection, social competition, and evolution.
Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, 123, 222–234.
Westneat, D. F. & I. R. K. Stewart. (2003). Extra-pair paternity in birds: Causes, cor-
relates, and conflict. Annual Review of Ecology and Evolution, 34, 365–396.
Williams, G. C. (1966). Natural selection, the costs of reproduction, and a refinement
of Lack’s principle. American Naturalist, 100, 687–690.
Zahavi, A. (1975). Mate selection—a selection for a handicap. Journal of Theoretical
Biology. 53, 205–214.
Zahavi, A. (1977). The cost of honesty (further remarks on the handicap principle).
Journal of Theoretical Biology, 67, 603–605.
6
INTRODUCTION
The male lion (Panthera leo) is feared by all. But it is the female lion that
should perhaps be most cautious. The penis of the male lion is covered in tiny
barbs, made of the hard protein keratin, usually found in claws and nails.
These barbs tear the lining of the uterus during copulation, which is painful
for the female, but which allows the male to remove any previously insemi-
nated rival males’ sperm and thereby minimize sperm competition. Stimula-
tion by the barbs also sends signals to the female’s brain, which help induce
the release of eggs. Despite the unpleasant nature of copulation in this species,
during their short fertile period each month female lions will mate up to
100 times a day. It is not only female lions that are subjected to this somewhat
harsh treatment; across diverse animal species males exhibit spiky, barbed
penises and other adaptations that result in the males harming their female
mates over or during reproduction.
Until the 1970s reproduction was viewed as a venture between males and
females, a view derived from overestimation of the occurrence of lifelong
monogamy (see Table 6.1 for definitions of the types of mating systems found
in the animal world) in the wild and maintained by outdated Victorian values
with regards to sex (Birkhead, 2010). We now know differently—males and
females often have conflicting interests when it comes to reproduction, and
174 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
in a number of ways. If the female mates with both males within the same
reproductive cycle, this would likely lead to competition between the sperm
of the two males within the female reproductive tract and could therefore
decrease the number of offspring sired by the first male. Alternatively, in spe-
cies that exhibit joint parental care, the first male may end up providing costly
paternal care to offspring that he has not sired. Thus in many species where
females mate with multiple males, males have evolved traits such as mate
guarding (reviewed in, for example, Alcock, 1994), and plugs that block the
female reproductive tract (e.g., Orr & Rutowski, 1991; Shine, Olsson, et al.,
2000) to deny access to other males until after the female has laid her eggs
or given birth. This is an example of sexual conflict over mating rate. How-
ever, conflict between the male and female can, and does, occur over any
aspect of reproduction, from courtship, through mating and fertilization, to
parental care of offspring (see Figure 6.1).
A UNIVERSAL TRUTH?
Sexual conflict seems to be universal in nature, with examples seen across all
animal groups. In social mammals such as lions and gorillas, where the females
care for their offspring for long periods of time, the females are often rendered
nonreceptive to further reproduction until their current offspring become in-
dependent or die. In such species, new males will often kill the offspring,
thereby bringing the female into estrus sooner (reviewed in Hrdy, 1979).
Infanticide is a rather extreme example of premating sexual conflict; another
example is seen in red-sided garter snakes (Thamnophis sirtalis parietalis),
where it is the females themselves that are under threat during the premating
period. This species typically exhibits populations with highly male-biased
sex ratios, resulting in strong competition between males for mates (Shine,
O’Connor, et al., 2000). On emerging from their communal overwintering
dens, the snakes form mass, writhing, mating aggregations (see Figure 6.2),
containing hundreds of males and very few females. The consequences for
the females include forced copulation, exhaustion, physiological stress, and
in some cases death (Shine, O’Connor, et al., 2000; Shine et al., 2004). Per-
haps unsurprisingly, even humans are thought to exhibit sexual conflict over,
for example, family size, fidelity within relationships, and provisioning to
offspring (reviewed in Mulder & Rauch, 2009).
Recent studies have begun examining what appears to be a fascinating
example of sexual conflict over fertilization in waterfowl. It was first docu-
mented a century ago that “rape” (forced copulation) is extremely common
in ducks, with the males attempting to coerce the females into mating so
176 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 6.1. Sexual conflict can occur over any aspect of, and during any episode of, the
reproductive process. (Adapted from Chapman, 2006, with permission from Elsevier)
violently they will on occasion drown them (Huxley, 1912). Ducks are
unusual for birds in that the males have penises; even more remarkable is the
structure and functioning of the duck phallus. The duck penis is a highly com-
plex, coiled structure, resembling a corkscrew (Brennan et al., 2010). At rest
within the male, the penis is essentially inside out. Prior to copulation, the
SEXUAL CONFLICT : ALL ’ S NOT FAIR IN LOVE — IT ’ S WAR ! 177
Figure 6.2. A red-sided garter snake (Thamnophis sirtalis parietalis) mating aggregation;
hundreds of male compete for access to only a few females. (Photo by Jon Webb)
increase her fecundity. Lelito and Brown (2006) have shown that the male
praying mantis Tenodera aridifolia sinensis has adapted to recognize the level
of potential danger presented by the female and adopts risk-averse behavior
as appropriate. Female water striders, or “pond skaters” as they are more com-
monly known, struggle during copulation and attempt to kick the mounted
male from their back; the males have responded in evolutionary terms by
evolving spines and claspers on their legs, which assist them in gripping the
female (Arnqvist & Rowe, 2002). Closely related to the water striders, the
Zeus bugs—tiny water bugs found in New Guinea and tropical Australia—
are relatively new to science, having only been discovered in the past 10 years
(Polhemus & Polhemus, 2000; Andersen & Weir, 2001). The group exhibits
a remarkable mating system whereby the male, diminutive in size, remains
almost permanently attached to the back of the female, feeding from a pair
of glands on her back that produce a wax-like secretion (Arnqvist et al.,
2007). It has been suggested that the male behavior is an extreme form of mate
guarding; the adult sex ratio in wild populations is strongly male-biased, and
thus single males have little opportunity to find unoccupied females. Rather
than risk losing their mate by dismounting to forage for food, males stay put
and feed from the female glands. Why does the female permit this? Males of this
group take further liberties with the females, stealing prey items when they are
feeding and apparently even wounding them, evidenced by the presence of
melanized scarring on the backs of most of the females. When blocking the
female glands experimentally, Arnqvist and colleagues (2006) observed that
males increased the extent to which they steal prey items from the female, sug-
gesting that the female glands have evolved to minimize the costly behaviors
exhibited by the males.
One of the more bizarre examples of sexual conflict in insects is exhibited
by the bed bugs (see Figure 6.3, reviewed in Siva-Jothy, 2006). Bed bugs
engage in traumatic insemination; rather than employing more traditional
routes, males inject sperm directly into the female body cavity through the
abdominal wall via their syringe-like penises. Unsurprisingly, this is costly
for the female; eventually, after multiple matings, it results in death. However,
to combat this, females have evolved a specialized organ, the ectospermalege.
This structure acts essentially as a mating guide for the male, directing his
penis to a specific region of the female abdomen containing cells involved in
the immune response, which help minimize the long-term damage to the
female (Reinhardt et al., 2003). From the ectospermalege, the male’s sperm
migrates to the ovaries to inseminate the female’s eggs. It seems the male sub-
mits to this female control over the site of insemination as even low rates of
piercing outside of the ectospermalege can reduce female offspring production
SEXUAL CONFLICT : ALL ’ S NOT FAIR IN LOVE — IT ’ S WAR ! 179
Figure 6.3. Bedbug males engage in traumatic insemination, where they ejaculate their
sperm directly into the female body cavity, one of the most bizarre mating behaviors
in the animal world. (Photo by Richard Naylor)
by 50 percent, thus proving highly costly for both the female and the male
(Morrow & Arnqvist, 2003).
selection; females may mate with some males but not others as a result of sex-
ual conflict, thereby leading to variation in reproductive success among males
and contributing to the evolution and maintenance of exaggerated male traits.
Thus sexual conflict is often invoked as a further mechanism by which sexual
selection can operate. The difference with traditional models of sexual selec-
tion is that these tend to focus on direct and indirect benefits of mating pref-
erence to the female; under sexual selection via sexual conflict, female choice
is an attempt to minimize the costs of mating rather than maximize benefits
(Rice & Holland, 1997; Holland & Rice, 1998). The relative importance of
sexual conflict as an instrument of sexual selection, compared to more tradi-
tional mechanisms, is still hotly debated (e.g., Chapman et al., 2003; Cordero
& Eberhard, 2003; Córdoba-Aguilar & Contreras-Garduño, 2003; Eberhard
& Cordero, 2003; Eberhard, 2004).
For behavioral scientists, one unfortunate consequence of the manner in
which sexual conflict operates, in addition to lack of consensus over terminol-
ogy and manner of operation, is that it is difficult to study. As a result of the
nature of the sexual arms race, past adaptations are hidden, and at any given
moment it is difficult to measure the relative costs and benefits of the conflict
to each sex. However, behavioral scientists have found ways to get around this.
Currently one of the most fruitful methods of investigating sexual conflict, as
seen in the Drosophila melanogaster case study below, is through the use of
experimental evolution, where experimental treatments are imposed on repli-
cate populations of organisms in the laboratory; the organisms are then mea-
sured for traits of interest over time to see how these traits evolve. In
addition, comparative studies across species, and population crosses within
species, have proven fruitful as, again, we shall see in some of the examples
given below.
For example, in the housefly, Musca domestica, the male transfers compounds
to the female in his ejaculate that permanently switch off her receptivity to
other males (Andrés & Arnqvist, 2001). However, females will remate with
another male if given the opportunity, and there is evidence that multiple mat-
ing could increase the reproductive success of polyandrous females through
nutrients transferred to females via the seminal fluids (Arnqvist & Andrés,
2006). Thus, in this species, males enforce monandry in females despite the
fact it may be costly to female reproductive success.
It is not only males that exert control over the remating of their partners.
The burying beetles, Nicrophorus spp., are a fascinating group of organisms
for a number of reasons, one of which is the fact that it is one of the few insect
groups in which both males and females engage in parental care (reviewed in
Scott, 1998). Mated pairs seek out, bury, and then defend the carcass of a
small vertebrate, for example a rodent or bird. The females lay their eggs in
the carcass, and one or both of the parents care for the developing offspring.
If the pair manages to find a carcass large enough to support more than one
brood of offspring, it would increase the reproductive success of the male to
rear a brood with a second female on the same carcass. This would, however,
be costly for the resident female, as her offspring would be subject to compe-
tition for the food resource. In one species, Nicrophorus defodiens, males that
are defending a large carcass will attempt to emit pheromones to attract a sec-
ond mate. However, their efforts are often thwarted by the resident female,
who will push, undercut, and bite the male to minimize the time he spends
signalling to other prospective mates (Eggert & Sakaluk, 1995) and thereby
decrease the chance of his obtaining a second mate. Thus, in this species, sex-
ual conflict over remating can result in females enforcing monogyny on males.
Sexual conflict over remating can also result in both sexes within a pair
being forced to mate only once. In many spider species, males exhibit so-
called one-shot genitalia, inseminating the female by breaking off parts of their
genitalia containing their sperm and leaving them in the female reproductive
tract (e.g., Fromhage & Schneider, 2006). This blocks the female reproductive
tract, thereby preventing her from remating with other males, but also renders
the male unable to remate despite the fact that he may survive the ordeal.
Thus, in theory, conflict over remating in such cases could result in
monogamy. However, this is not necessarily the end of the conflict; two recent
studies in different spider species suggest that both the female and the male
can, in evolutionary terms, eventually override the stalemate, in the case of
the female by adapting to remove the plug (Kuntner et al., 2009), and in the
case of the male by refraining from damaging his genitalia and instead parti-
tioning sperm across several copulations (Schneider & Michalik, 2011).
182 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 6.4. The fruit fly model organism Drosophila melanogaster presents one of the
best-understood examples of sexual conflict. (Photo by Tracey Chapman)
SEXUAL CONFLICT : ALL ’ S NOT FAIR IN LOVE — IT ’ S WAR ! 183
One group was unable to produce sperm or the major components of seminal
fluid (“DTA males”), while the other produced normal seminal fluid but not
sperm (“tudor” males) (Chapman et al., 1995). As before, cauterized males
from each of the three stocks were also used to control for nonmating exposure
of females to males. They found that females that mated to the tudor males,
and thus received the full complement of seminal fluid, died sooner than
females mated to the DTA males, suggesting that it was something in the
seminal fluid that was reducing female lifespan.
In most species, seminal fluid is a veritable cocktail of components pro-
duced by the male accessory glands, seminal vesicles, ejaculatory duct, ejacula-
tory bulb, and testes and transferred to the female during mating. These so-
called seminal fluid proteins (SFPs) have wide-ranging effects on the female,
some good and some bad (reviewed in Avila et al., 2011). For example, in
D. melanogaster, certain SFPs are essential to the female for processes such as
sperm storage in, and release from, the sperm-storage organ (e.g., Neubaum
& Wolfner, 1999; Tram & Wolfner, 1999; Avila et al., 2010). Of benefit to
the male, SFPs also increase the oviposition or egg-laying rate of the female
(e.g., Herndon & Wolfner, 1995; Heifetz et al., 2001; Ravi Ram & Wolfner,
2007), thus ensuring that she produces many eggs fertilized with his sperm.
However, this is where the conflict occurs. Although the female may now have
sufficient sperm to fertilize her eggs, she may not wish to fertilize all of them
using the male’s sperm; as we saw in Chapter 5 on sexual selection, there are
numerous reasons why the female may wish to remate with one or more other
males. If the female were to remate, the male’s sperm would likely be subject
to sperm competition. In D. melanogaster, subsequent males sire a greater
proportion of a female’s offspring (Gromko et al., 1984), and the first
male’s reproductive success would therefore decrease. However, males have
weapons to counter this. The wide-ranging effects of male SFPs on females
include manipulation of the female to decrease her interest in other males;
after receiving SFPs, mated females will actively reject courting males
(e.g., Aigaki et al., 1991).
What of the impact on female lifespan with which we began this story? To our
knowledge, the SFP-induced reduction in female longevity is an unfortunate
side effect of the overall actions of SFP; it is unlikely that male D. melanogaster
“intentionally” set out to harm their mates. As stated previously, sexual con-
flict is predicted to result in a cyclical arms race, with males and females con-
tinuously evolving to counter the selection imposed on them by the opposite
sex. Indeed, it seems female D. melanogaster have tricks up their proverbial
sleeves to counter the effects of male SFPs. A more recent study, again by
Tracey Chapman’s group, utilized experimental evolution to examine female
184 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
These studies suggest that the insect female physiological pathway, which is
targeted by males via SFPs, may be an ancient and highly conserved one.
and to date we have no direct empirical evidence that sexual conflict has or
could drive a population to extinction.
However, there are conditions where sexual conflict could exacerbate the
population decline to extinction in conjunction with other factors. Some pop-
ulations of the fruit fly Drosophila pseudoobscura are infected with a selfish
genetic element (SGE) called sex ratio (SR) meiotic drive; SGEs are pieces
of DNA that defy the usual rules of inheritance and, through a variety of
mechanisms, promote their own transfer to the next generation at the expense
of the other genes in an organism (reviewed in Hurst & Werren, 2001). In
D. pseudoobscura, males infected with SR cannot sire sons and thus only pro-
duce daughters, which can lead to populations with female-biased sex ratios.
This can be costly to a female that mates with an SR male for several reasons;
for example, not only does she only produce daughters, but her offspring may
have reduced fitness due to inheriting the SGE (Jaenike, 2001). Price and col-
leagues (2008) showed that the presence of SR in a population results in
females evolving increased mating rates; it was suggested that this promoted
sperm competition and thus reduced the numbers of offspring that SR males
sired, thereby minimizing to some degree the costs associated with mating
with such males. However, a subsequent study showed that males countered
this by evolving an increased ability to suppress this female mating response,
suggesting that SR can promote sexual conflict in this species (Price et al.,
2009). The final twist to this tale is that if females within an SR-infected pop-
ulation are prevented from mating multiply, and thereby decreasing the num-
ber of their offspring sired by SR males, the population can go extinct due to a
lack of males (Price et al., 2010). Although not directly shown, this suggests
that in a population infected with SR, if sexual conflict prevents females from
resisting the costs associated with SR, it could lead to extinction.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author would like to thank the Japan Society for the Promotion of Sci-
ence for funding the research trip to Japan where much of this chapter was
SEXUAL CONFLICT : ALL ’ S NOT FAIR IN LOVE — IT ’ S WAR ! 189
conceived. She would also like to thank Professor Takahisa Miyatake and
Doctor Tom Price for valuable discussion on the topic, and her Animal Behav-
iour and Sociobiology students for providing inspiration.
Brennan, P. L. R., C. J. Clark, & R. O. Prum. (2010). Explosive eversion and func-
tional morphology of the duck penis supports sexual conflict in waterfowl
genitalia. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 277, 1309–1314.
Brennan, P. L. R., R. O. Prum, K. G. McCracken, M. D. Sorensen, R. E. Wilson, &
T. R. Birkhead. (2007). Coevolution of male and female genital morphology
in waterfowl. PLoS ONE, 5, e418.
Chapman, T. (2006). Evolutionary conflicts of interest between males and females.
Current Biology, 16, R744–R754.
Chapman, T., G. Arnqvist, J. Bangham, & L. Rowe. (2003). Response to Eberhard
and Cordero, and Córdoba-Aguilar and Contreras-Garduño: Sexual conflict
and female choice. Trends in Ecology and Evolution, 18, 440–441.
Chapman, T., L. F. Liddle, J. M. Kalb, M. F. Wolfner, & L. Partridge. (1995). Cost
of mating in Drosophila melanogaster females is mediated by male accessory
gland products. Nature, 373, 241–244.
Cordero, C. & W. G. Eberhard. (2003). Female choice of sexually antagonistic male
adaptations: A critical review of some current research. Journal of Evolutionary
Biology, 16, 1–6.
Córdoba-Aguilar, A. & J. Contreras-Garduño. (2003). Sexual conflict. Trends in
Ecology and Evolution, 18, 439–440.
Dottorini, T., L. Nicolaides, H. Ranson, D. W. Rogers, A. Crisanti, & F. Catteruccia.
(2007). A genome-wide analysis in Anopheles gambiae mosquitoes reveals
46 male accessory gland genes, possible modulators of female behaviour.
Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 104, 16215–16220.
Eberhard, W. G. (2004). Rapid divergent evolution of sexual morphology: Compara-
tive tests of antagonistic coevolution and traditional female choice. Evolution,
58, 1947–1970.
Eberhard, W. G. & C. Cordero. (2003). Sexual conflict and female choice. Trends in
Ecology and Evolution, 18, 438–439.
Eggert, A. K. & S. K. Sakaluk. (1995). Female-coerced monogamy in burying beetles.
Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 37, 147–153.
Fan, Y. L., A. Rafaeli, P. Moshitzky, E. Kubli, Y. Choffat, & S. W. Applebaum.
(2000). Common functional elements of Drosophila melanogaster seminal
peptides involved in reproduction of Drosophila melanogaster and Helicoverpa
armigera females. Insect Biochemistry and Molecular Biology, 30, 805–812.
Fowler, K. & L. Partridge. (1989). A cost of mating in female fruitflies. Nature, 338,
760–761.
Friberg, U. & G. Arnqvist. (2003). Fitness effects of female mate choice: Preferred
males are detrimental for Drosophila melanogaster females. Journal of Evolution-
ary Biology, 16, 797–811.
Fromhage, L. & J. M. Schneider. (2006). Emasculation to plug up the females: The
significance of pedipalp damage in Nephila fenestrata. Behavioral Ecology, 17,
353–357.
SEXUAL CONFLICT : ALL ’ S NOT FAIR IN LOVE — IT ’ S WAR ! 191
Gage, M. J. G., G. A. Parker, S. Nylin, & C. Wiklund. (2002). Sexual selection and
speciation in mammals, butterflies and spiders. Proceedings of the Royal Society
of London, B, 269, 2309–2316.
Gavrilets, S. (2000). Rapid evolution of reproductive barriers driven by sexual con-
flict. Nature, 403, 886–889.
Gavrilets, S. & D. Waxman. (2002). Sympatric speciation by sexual conflict. Proceed-
ings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 99, 10533–10538.
Gay, L., P. E. Eady, R. Vasudev, D. J. Hosken, & T. Tregenza. (2009). Does repro-
ductive isolation evolve faster in larger populations via sexually antagonistic
coevolution? Biology Letters, 5, 693–696.
Gromko, M. H., D. G. Gilbert, & R. C. Richmond. (1984). Sperm transfer and use
in multiple mating system of Drosophila. In R. L. Smith (ed.), Sperm Competi-
tion and the Evolution of Animal Mating Systems (pp. 372–427). New York:
Academic Press.
Hayashi, T. I., M. Vose, & S. Gavrilets. (2007). Genetic differentiation by sexual
conflict. Evolution, 61, 516–529.
Heifetz, Y., U. Tram, & M. F. Wolfner. (2001). Male contributions to egg produc-
tion: The role of accessory gland products and sperm in Drosophila mela-
nogaster. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 268, 175–180.
Herndon, L. A. & M. F. Wolfner. (1995). A Drosophila seminal fluid protein,
Acp26a, stimulates egg laying in females for 1 day after mating. Proceedings of
the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 92, 10114–10118.
Holland, B. & W. R. Rice. (1998). Chase-away sexual selection: Antagonistic seduc-
tion versus resistance. Evolution, 52, 1–7.
Hosken, D. J., P. Stockley, T. Tregenza, & N. Wedell. (2009). Monogamy and the
battle of the sexes. Annual Review of Entomology, 54, 361–378.
Hrdy, S. B. (1979). Infanticide among animals: A review, classification, and examina-
tion of the implications for the reproductive strategies of females. Ethology and
Sociobiology, 1, 13–40.
Hurst, G. D. D. & J. H. Werren. (2001). The role of selfish genetic elements in
eukaryotic evolution. Nature Reviews, 2, 597–606.
Huxley, J. S. (1912). A “disharmony” in the reproductive habits of the wild duck
(Anas boschas L.). Biologisches Zentralblatt, 32, 621–623.
Jaenike, J. (2001). Sex chromosome meiotic drive. Annual Review of Ecology, Evolu-
tion and Systematics, 32, 25–49.
Jennions, M. & M. Petrie. (2000). Why do females mate multiply? A review of the
genetic benefits. Biological Reviews, 75, 21–64.
Kokko, H. & R. Brooks. (2003). Sexy to die for? Sexual selection and the risk of
extinction. Annales Zoologici Fennici, 40, 207–219.
Kraaijeveld, K., F. J. L. Kraaijeveld-Smit, & M. E. Maan. (2011). Sexual selection
and speciation: The comparative evidence revisited. Biological Reviews, 86,
67–377.
192 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Kuntner, M., S. Kralj-Fisher, J. M. Schneider, & D. Li. (2009). Mate plugging via
genital mutilation in nephilid spiders: An evolutionary hypothesis. Journal of
Zoology, 277, 257–266.
Lelito, J. P. & W. D. Brown. (2006). Complicity over sexual cannibalism? Male risk
taking in the praying mantis Tenodera aridifolia sinensis. American Naturalist,
168, 263–269.
Lewis, Z., N. Wedell, & J. Hunt. (2011). Evidence for strong intralocus sexual con-
flict in the Indian meal moth, Plodia interpunctella. Evolution, 65, 2085–2097.
Manier, M. K., J. M. Belote, K. S. Berben, D. Novikov, W. T. Stuart, & S. Pitnick.
(2010). Resolving mechanisms of competitive fertilization success in
Drosophila melanogaster. Science, 328, 354–357.
Martin, O. Y. & D. J. Hosken. (2003). The evolution of reproductive isolation
through sexual conflict. Nature, 423, 979–982.
Morrow, E. H. & G. Arnqvist. (2003). Costly traumatic insemination and a female
counter-adaptation in bed bugs. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B,
270, 2377–2381.
Morrow, E. H. & C. Fricke. (2004). Sexual selection and the risk of extinction in
mammals. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 271, 2395–2401.
Morrow, E. H., T. E. Pitcher, & G. Arnqvist. (2003). No evidence that sexual
selection is an “engine of speciation” in birds. Ecology Letters, 6, 228–234.
Mulder, M. B. & K. L. Rauch. (2009). Sexual conflict in humans: Variations and
solutions. Evolutionary Anthropology, 18, 201–214.
Neubaum, D. M. & M. F. Wolfner. (1999). Mated Drosophila melanogaster females
require a seminal fluid protein, Acp 36DE, to store sperm efficiently. Genetics,
153, 845–857.
Orr, A. G. & R. L. Rutowski. (1991). The function of the sphragis in Cressida cressida
(Fab) (Lepidoptera, Papilionidae): A visual deterrent to copulation attempts.
Journal of Natural History, 25, 703–710.
Parker, G. A. (1979). Sexual selection and sexual conflict. In M. S. Blum & N. A.
Blum (eds.), Selection and Reproductive Competition in Insects (pp. 123–166).
New York: Academic Press.
Parker, G. A. & L. Partridge. (1998). Sexual conflict and speciation. Philosophical
Transactions of the Royal Society of London, B, 353, 261–274.
Polak, M. & A. Rashed. (2010). Microscale laser surgery reveals adaptive function of
male intromittant genitalia. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 277,
1371–1376.
Polhemus, D. A. & T. Polhemus. (2000). Additional new genera and species of
Microveliinae (Heteroptera: Veliidae) from New Guinea and adjacent regions.
Tijdschrift voor Entomologie, 143, 91–123.
Price, T. A. R., D. J. Hodgson, Z. Lewis, G. D. D. Hurst, & N. Wedell. (2008). Self-
ish genetic elements promote polyandry in a fly. Science, 322, 1241–1243.
Price, T. A. R., G. D. D. Hurst, & N. Wedell. (2010). Polyandry prevents extinction.
Current Biology, 20, 471–475.
SEXUAL CONFLICT : ALL ’ S NOT FAIR IN LOVE — IT ’ S WAR ! 193
INTRODUCTION
While it may be true that happy human families are all alike, the diversity of
happy families in the nonhuman world is substantial. Evolution has sculpted
a wide variety of solutions for launching the next generation. In many species,
parental behavior may be manifested only in the choice of a place to leave the
eggs where they might have the best chance of survival. In addition, eggs may
be camouflaged or infused with a distasteful substance to protect them from
predators. Beyond that, there is a wide range of types of parental care: incuba-
tion and nest guarding, live birth, and female and/or male care of offspring.
Each increase in care places the emphasis on rearing fewer, higher-quality
young.
196 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Once obligate parental care beyond leaving sheltered eggs to fend for them-
selves has evolved, the trail gets twisted. Mostly family members have each
other’s best interests at heart, but there are basic conflicts of interests between
parents, between parents and offspring, and among offspring. There may be
an evolutionary benefit for fathers who desert; offspring may want more re-
sources than parents are prepared to give; and each offspring would prefer to
be first in its parents’ heart. There are questions of the optimal number of
young that will result in the greatest number of reproducing heirs, and there
are some dark ways parents have to achieve their goal.
This chapter will put parental behaviors in the perspective of natural selection.
Traits have evolved because individuals who acted in that way in a given environ-
ment, with given resources, competitors, and predators, left more young. Topics
will include an evaluation of the circumstances under which providing extended
care should be beneficial to the parent, why females are usually the caregivers in
some taxa but biparental care is common in others, and why some offspring
forgo their own reproduction to help parents rear the next generation. This chap-
ter will also explore what determines the optimal clutch or brood size and how
that is achieved, discuss how offspring communicate their needs and parents
respond, and finally conclude with the nature of the conflict between parents
and offspring as members seek to optimize their own future reproduction. The
diversity and complexity of family life across the animal kingdom not only pro-
vides interesting stories but also offers us a way to further appreciate the workings
of natural selection and adaptation.
primates, for example, daughters inherit their mothers’ rank (Eng et al., 2000;
Bergstrom & Fedigan, 2010), which is facilitated through maternal interven-
tion, aggression towards low-ranking individuals, and coalition support. These
high-ranking daughters generally have better access to food and can better pro-
tect their young than low-ranking females.
There is a trade-off between the amount of parental care provided and the
number of young that can be reared, and there is a continuum from leaving
many young to fend for themselves at one extreme and rearing fewer, more
competitive young at the other. Mammals, with their reproductive mode of
gestation, lactation, and long period of dependence, represent the latter
extreme. But why don’t all animals provide so well for their young? This question
can be addressed by examining the costs and benefits of providing care.
Parental investment, any behavior that increases offspring fitness but
decreases the parents’ ability to invest in other offspring, is a concept that lends
itself better to testing hypotheses, because it incorporates costs, than does
parental care. In a cost/benefit analysis, the potential outcomes of the differ-
ent options are scored in terms of fitness, which refers specifically to reproduc-
tive success. It describes the ability both to survive and to reproduce. This
approach allows for a comparison of mothers and fathers using the same
currency (current and future offspring). It is the costs and benefits of any
behavior that are the grist for the mill of natural selection.
Specific costs and benefits have very much to do with life history (life span,
reproductive schedule, etc.) of each animal. Large animals with a long life
would be predicted to have fewer offspring each time they breed and to pro-
vide more care to each. They might also be predicted to be more conservative
(risk averse) when they are younger and have greater reproductive potential in
the future; older individuals might be more risk prone and willing to pay
higher energetic costs for late-born young. Jane Goodall’s chimpanzee “Flo”
was a wonderful mother and reared many successful young, but she overpro-
tected and overindulged her last, to his detriment (Goodall, 1971). In addition
to the influence of body size and life span, life history traits evolve in response
to specific environmental characteristics, such as predictability. The effect of
environmental predictability on parental behaviors is nicely illustrated with a
comparison of house mice (Mus musculus) and the similarly sized marsupial
mouse, Antechinus stuartii. House mice can have five to 10 litters of six to
eight young each in a year. Juvenile mortality is high. Females are sexually
mature in six weeks, and males are mature in eight weeks. In the wild, they
can, but usually do not, live for a year. Antechinus (Figure 7.1), on the other
hand, have a single, highly synchronized, short breeding season each year,
and within a day of female ovulation all males in the population die of
198 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 7.1. Antechinus stuartii mother with youngsters that are almost old enough to be
left in the nest. (Photo by Diana Fisher and Andras Kazei)
stress-related symptoms. Females have six to ten young, and juvenile mortality is
lower than that of mice. There is a period of four months of gestation and lacta-
tion, and when they are weaned, the combined mass of the litter is three and a
half times that of the mother. Mice are opportunistic breeders and live in a some-
what unpredictable environment, so females breed often and fast before condi-
tions change. Antechinus lives in a predictable environment; females make a
very large energetic investment in young, and males put all their energy into a
single reproductive event as the probability of living until the next year would
have been remote. Indeed, males that put the most energy into finding mating
partners are the most successful (Braithwaite, 1979; Scott & Tan, 1985).
Birds and mammals are striking examples of parental care; offspring would
not survive without a huge expenditure of energy by the mother and, for most
birds, by the father as well. Most other taxa contain some species for which
parental care is obligatory (Clutton-Brock, 1991). Although they might not
spring to mind, some insects also provide extensive care to young. Male and
female burying beetles (Nichrophorus spp.) cooperate to bury small vertebrate
carcasses that will become food for their young (Figure 7.2). Parents remain
in the burial chamber provisioning and guarding young. Carcasses (a bonanza
resource) are rare, and finding one is unpredictable. In this case, this environ-
mental factor has selected for life history traits and behavior on the far end of
the continuum of extensive care. Once they have the opportunity (a carcass),
A NEST OF VIPERS : CONFLICT AND COOPERATION IN FAMILIES 199
Figure 7.2. Burying beetle (Nichrophorus orbicollis) female feeding four-day-old larvae.
(Photo by M. W. Moffett)
females spend more than half of their reproductive life spans rearing a single
brood. Males help because two adults can successfully defend the resource
and brood from infanticidal intruders who seek to rear their own young on
this rare resource (Scott, 1990; Trumbo, 1991).
Burying beetles may be an example of particularly elaborate biparental care
in an insect, but parental care of one sort or another is widespread and diverse
(Table 7.1). It is thought to be confined to species for which eggs or young are
clumped in time and space, which in turn is dependent on the temporal and
spatial distribution of resources. The dispersion, quality, and persistence of re-
sources influence how sedentary or nomadic a species is and what competi-
tors, predators and parasites it must deal with. These in turn determine if
parental care can be an effective strategy, for instance when there is something
that parents are able to do to increase the survival of young. Because burying
beetles use a small, discrete resource, behaviors to protect it and the young
have evolved; and with burial and extended care, a suite of adaptations
(behavioral, physiological, and anatomical) coevolved from characteristics of
nonparental ancestors (Trumbo, 1996). For example, once burying beetle lar-
vae were protected underground by parents, they no longer had to be heavily
200 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Table 7.1. Types of parental care by insects and numbers of orders in which parents
exhibit the behaviors listed.
Maternal Paternal Biparental
Behavior care care care
unmated and willing new partner. Desertion by the male is costly to the
female because she can either stay, which take substantial time and energy,
or she can desert the eggs and leave them to die. If the female deserts, leaving
the father to incubate, she can produce a new clutch (Szentirmai et al., 2007).
Out-and-out desertion is extreme; various factors can influence the level at
which males and females work. When one parent deserts or is experimentally
removed, the remaining parent usually increases its workload, if it is able.
Burying beetle females do not increase their level of care when their mates
are removed or experimentally handicapped with extra weights, whereas males
do work harder under these circumstances. This suggests that females already
work as hard as they can; if need be, males can step up, but they usually work
less hard than their mate (Seizi & Masahiro, 2009). Parents may also adjust
their level of care based on the perceived quality of their mate. For example,
female zebra finches (Taeniopygia guttata) paired with attractive males (in this
case, males with orange or red leg bands) feed their chicks more than those
with unattractive mates (those with green or blue leg bands) (Burley, 1986).
Because females produce a comparatively large, nutrient-rich egg relative to
the male’s small, mobile sperm, their lifetime reproductive success depends
mostly on their energy intake, whereas a male’s lifetime reproductive success
depends more on the number of matings he can get. In some species the con-
sequence of this is extreme; a few males in the population mate with many
females and most mate with none. In this case, when the variance in male
success is greater than the variance in female success (i.e., most females have
closer to the average number of young in their lifetimes), there is strong selec-
tion (called sexual selection) for competition among males for access to recep-
tive females. This is not to say that females do not also undergo sexual
selection. Females may compete for high-quality males, territory, or social sta-
tus, which will increase their fitness. In some species like the polyandrous
jaçana or the sex-role-reversed spotted hyena, sexual selection is stronger on
females than on males (Clutton-Brock, 2007). But generally the greater com-
petition among males pushes for secondary sexual traits such as weapons and
ornaments. This potential for some males to do better than others in the pop-
ulation such that only a subset breed also selects for exclusive female parental
care because the costs for the breeding male to provide care is greater than that
for females (Kokko & Jennions, 2003).
There are additional reasons why female care has evolved more often than
male care. Females can be more certain that they are the mothers of their
young than males can be that they are the fathers. If females mate with multi-
ple males before eggs are fertilized, or, as with some fish, if a nonparental male
sneaks in and releases sperm just as the nest owner is spawning, males are less
202 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
which size in males does not have a strong effect on fitness, the cost of care,
and consequential reduced growth, is less for them than it is for females.
Models for cost-benefit analyses have been developed using game theory
borrowed from economics. To provide care or not is seen as a trade-off.
The major factors input into these models are offspring survival with zero,
one, or two parents; the availability of additional mates if the male or female
deserts; certainty of parentage; and the increase in fecundity if the female
deserts. The potential payoff is calculated for each option, given that the other
parent will or will not provide care. Thus if offspring survival is much better
with two parents and few females are available as additional mates, males are
expected to stay and help. Imagine the case of emperor penguins (Aptenodytes
forsteri). Their harsh breeding environment has selected for biparental care.
Without the father returning to relieve the mother, the chick would have no
chance of survival. Furthermore, most females are already paired.
EXTENDED FAMILIES
The African saying that it takes a village to raise a child may be true, at least
as a metaphor, for some nonhuman species as well. Pair-bonded parents are
assisted by older siblings or even less related group members in numerous spe-
cies of birds and mammals. Cooperative breeding is good for the extended
family because groups can be more efficient than individuals through division
of labor and specialization, and there is opportunity for social learning. But
why should grown offspring give up their own chance to reproduce to help
their parents? Benefits are varied and complicated. Especially if the new brood
is comprised of full siblings, they are helping to promote the success of their
genes. (This type of selection is called kin selection.) There is a net fitness gain
if the number of young that a first-time breeder can expect is low and its assis-
tance to parents results in much better survival of the new brood. Although
the close relatedness of parents and helpers certainly facilitates the evolution
of helping, it is perhaps not the most important factor. In many species, non-
related individuals help, and in various ways this increases their personal repro-
ductive success. Helping may be the “dues” they pay to be allowed to stay.
Many recent studies show that there can be direct benefits to delaying disper-
sal from the family territory, even if they do not help with the new young. By
staying, they may increase their survival and chance of gaining a territory and
breeding in the future. They may also gain skills that increase their future
fitness (Clutton-Brock, 2002; Komdeur & Ekman, 2010).
Nothing matches social insects for extended families! Individuals in a family
of ants, termites, and many species of bees and wasps do not reproduce
204 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
themselves but help the queen to rear their younger siblings. Honey bee (Apis
mellifera) colonies, for example, consist of tens of thousands of individuals,
and the workers do all the housework and care unstintingly for the eggs and
larvae before they become the hive’s foragers when they are about two weeks
old. Sterile worker ants are often morphologically specialized for their specific
and clearly defined roles. Leafcutter ants (Atta spp.) have highly specialized
castes. The nurse ants are relatively small, and their job, as their name implies,
is to care for the brood. They keep them clean and feed the begging larvae the
fruits from their fungal garden and even with sterile eggs that they produce for
just for nutrition. Armored soldier termites defend the family with weaponry
of huge pincers or nozzle-like heads that spray caustic substances on enemies.
The soft-bodied workers perform the mundane household duties and tend to
the youngsters’ needs. These altruistic workers in most, but not all, cases are
helping to rear closely related kin and thus pass their genes on indirectly.
However, selection at the colony level has also been important in the evolution
of this division of labor. Larger colonies that are more efficient and have grown
fast are better competitors and more likely to ultimately give rise to daughter
colonies (Wilson & Wilson, 2007). If there is a persistent food supply and
individuals have built a defensible nest, the groundwork is laid for social living.
Division of labor with some individuals specialized for reproduction and
others for caring for the young can then follow.
FAMILY PLANNING
Just as the amount of care is a trade-off between current and future off-
spring, the number of young to have and when to have them is a similar
trade-off. Large, long-lived species take a conservative strategy and save energy
for future young. Even shorter-lived species face the same “decision” of how
many young to have and how much care to provide. Parents are typically opti-
mistic or at least make room for the possibility of the best outcome. Nonethe-
less, mothers do not produce the maximum number of young that they could.
Birds tend to have an optimal clutch size (Lack, 1947; see Williams, 1966).
Mothers that lay too many eggs are overly optimistic and bring fewer young
to independence; those that lay too few may rear all but produce fewer than
the female that has chosen the intermediate. At least, that is what common
sense and theory would predict. However, this has been difficult to demon-
strate with experimental manipulation of clutches because parents differ in
quality and much is dependent on the availability of resources at the time.
Trade-offs are ultimately mediated by a number of factors including both
A NEST OF VIPERS : CONFLICT AND COOPERATION IN FAMILIES 205
chance events like predation and storms, biotic factors like parasite and prey
abundance, and competition from conspecifics.
Blue tits (Parus caeruleus) are an exceptionally well-studied bird. The effects
of reproductive effort (clutch size) on offspring quantity and quality and on
parental future reproduction have been studied in populations from Scandina-
via to Corsica. An experimental manipulation of clutches, in which eggs were
removed or added to random nests, in an English population supported the
hypothesis that individuals optimize their clutch size. The number of young
surviving was best in nests that were not manipulated (Pettifor, 1993a). This
same study also found no overall negative effect of brood size on the survival
or future reproduction of the parents (Pettifor, 1993b), although there did
seem to be a significant negative effect of brood size on survival of males or
females in some individual years. The key to the variability between years
was most likely due to differences in the caterpillar crop (the main food source
for parental tits). A population of blue tits in Corsica differs significantly from
more northern ones: there is less food, less water, and higher temperatures,
and birds suffer a higher parasite load (Blondel et al., 1998). These tits have
smaller clutches and breed later than the northern ones. In this study, clutch
manipulation did not significantly affect the number of young reared, but it
did affect their quality. Young from larger broods were smaller and lighter,
and females raised in these larger broods bred later themselves and laid fewer
eggs than those from control or reduced clutches. As with the previously men-
tioned study, there was no consistent effect of clutch manipulation on adult
survival or reproduction the following year. However, in this study there was
a big effect of year-to-year variation in environmental conditions, especially
in caterpillar abundance. Not only in some years was there better overall fledg-
ling success, but also the effect of the manipulation differed. In one year,
clutches reduced by two eggs did relatively well, but those increased by two
eggs did exceptionally poorly, compared to the same manipulations in other
years (Blondel et al., 1998).
In addition to the number of young to produce, the frequency at which to
produce them and even the sex of the young are all components of family
planning. Long-lived species often do not have young every year. Large mam-
mals, with their very high costs of reproduction, have young infrequently.
African elephant females (Loxodonta africana) give birth every four to nine
years, but humpback whales (Megaptera novaeangliae), in spite of their large
size and slow growth, reproduce on average every other year. It is sometimes
the case for mammals that the sex of one offspring affects future offspring.
Rearing a larger male to independence is metabolically more costly than rear-
ing a smaller female to independence. Female red deer (Cervus elaphus) that
206 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
have a son are more likely not to breed the following year than those that have a
daughter (Clutton-Brock et al., 1982). The effect of raising sons is even more
subtle in humans. Data from Lutheran church records of Finnish farmers and
fishermen in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries show that having a son
takes more out of the mother than having a daughter, and succeeding offspring
have a lower birth weight. Furthermore, surviving children born after a son
were less likely to have offspring of their own than those born after a daughter
(Rickard et al., 2007), presumably because of their poor start in life.
occurring in mammals, birds, fish, and reptiles as well as insects (Klug & Bon-
sall, 2007). Paternal care is common in fish. While often this consists of males
guarding a nest in which the female has left her eggs, in some cases the male’s
mouth serves as the “nest.” Mouth-brooding male cardinalfish (Pterapogon
kauderni) pick up the egg mass into their mouths immediately after spawning.
As long as things go well, eggs stay there protected from predators and well
aerated until embryos hatch. But this comes with a cost to the fathers, as they
must fast and, as the breeding season progresses, they lose condition. Partial
brood cannibalism is common, and the entire brood disappears into the
father’s stomach not infrequently. This filial cannibalism by male cardinal-
fish becomes much more prevalent later in the season as the father’s body con-
dition decreases (Okuda & Yanagisawa, 1996) and tends to happen early in
the mouth-brood phase as young eggs have greater nutritional value and less
reproductive value than younger eggs.
An energy-based explanation for filial cannibalism in teleost fish seems to
be valid in most cases (Manica, 2007), but other factors, such as brood size
or age, availability of additional mates, and the probability of paternity can
also influence this “decision.” Male threespined sticklebacks (Gasterosteus acu-
leatus), a fish that makes and guards a nest in which females deposit their eggs,
suffer from “sneaky” males that wiggle into nest of the territorial male and
deposit sperm that fertilize some of the eggs. Thus the nest owner cannot be
100 percent sure that he is the father of all the young. Clutches containing a
high proportion of foreign eggs are much more likely to be entirely cannibal-
ized. But how can the male make an informed judgment? In an experiment in
which from 0 to 100 percent of one male’s eggs were exchanged with those
of another male’s, all the eggs were destroyed and presumably eaten signifi-
cantly more often when the male was caring for fewer than 50 percent of his
own young. Moreover, the risk of total brood cannibalism was greater early
in the breeding season, but only by males with many of their own eggs; males
with few of their own eggs cannibalized the brood at a high rate throughout
the season. Some males only cannibalized part of the brood, and in these cases,
the greater the proportion of their own eggs that were in the nest, the more
foreign eggs were consumed (Mehlis et al., 2010). What cues can they use to rec-
ognize alien eggs? This experiment ruled out all but cues from the eggs them-
selves (e.g., no rival males were ever present), and olfactory cues associated
with the eggs are the most likely.
While parents sometimes do the dirty work to eliminate excess offspring
themselves, in some cases they leave it to the siblings. Sand tiger sharks
(Carcharias taurus) kill and eat brothers and sisters in utero (Gilmore et al.,
1983). Embryo pronghorn antelope (Antilocapra americana) have a spear of
208 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 7.3. A Nazca booby mother (Sula granti) looks on while the first-born chick evicts
the second born from the nest, leaving it to certain death. (Photo by Dave Anderson)
dead tissue that they use to kill their twins in the narrow uterus (Forbes,
2005). Workers of many social insects eat eggs oviposited by other workers
because they are less related to these future offspring that they are to those of
the queen. But siblicide is best studied, and is most poignant, in birds, espe-
cially in large sea-going species that normally have small clutches. Nazca
booby (Sula granti) mothers lay two eggs but always raise only one. The older
and larger chick forces its weaker sibling out from under its mother, where it
dies a pitiful death in the beating sun (Humphries et al., 2006).
Leaving one offspring to eliminate the “extras” is a very practical evolution-
ary solution. Parents face multiple uncertainties: critical resources may vary
such that the parent cannot predict the optimal brood size, or some offspring
may not hatch, die prematurely, or be intrinsically flawed. To evaluate the
effects of these uncertainties, members of the brood are thought of as core or
marginal offspring. The core is the number of young that are normally raised
to independence, and the marginal offspring are those that make up the over-
production—those that might make it in the best of times (Mock & Forbes,
1995). The marginal member(s) of the brood are usually handicapped, often
by being hatched later, which make them easier to be killed. In Nazca boobies
siblicide is obligate (Figure 7.3)—99.95 percent of broods fledged only one
A NEST OF VIPERS : CONFLICT AND COOPERATION IN FAMILIES 209
chick, and the most common cause of death was the action of the other chick
(Humphries et al., 2006); in other species, the blue-footed booby (Sula
nebouxii) for example, siblicide is facultative.
There are several hypotheses that might predict why parents overproduce
and for which species siblicide is facultative and which obligate (Mock &
Forbes, 1995). The resource-tracking hypothesis suggests that parents pro-
duce the number of young that can be raised in a good year and are prepared
to sacrifice them if resources turn out to be insufficient. Hatching asynchrony
in red-winged blackbirds (Agelaius phoeniceus) creates core and marginal off-
spring, and in this way they keep the costs of sacrificing marginal offspring
lower by creating weaker brood members. In an experiment in which the core
or marginal brood was enlarged, the growth of the core youngsters was not
affected by additional marginal ones, but alteration of the core brood signifi-
cantly reduced the growth of the marginal ones (Forbes & Glassy, 2000).
Parents feed core offspring what they need to develop properly, and marginal
ones just suffer more with extra core. Similarly, cattle egrets (Bubulcus ibis)
produce two core offspring and one marginal one, the consequence of being
last hatched. As long as there are three young in the nest the core chicks, espe-
cially the second hatched, attack the third, but it is the nutritional condition of
this third that determines the outcome; if it is weak and malnourished already,
it will succumb, but in a good year it becomes strong enough to survive (Mock
& Lamey, 1991).
A second hypothesis that might explain the overproduction and consequential
siblicide has been called the insurance hypothesis. This predicts that the junior
chick would be killed even if food were plentiful, but parents produce a back-
up chick in case something happens to the first. Whereas Nazca boobies virtually
never raise more than one chick, their cousin the blue-footed booby often raises
two or more. Nazca booby parents forage farther from land than do the blue-
footed parents. If these longer commutes limit the amount of food that can be
delivered, the resource-tracking hypothesis would be supported. However, Nazca
and blue-footed boobies have similar foraging efficiency, and both could fledge
two chicks (Anderson & Ricklefs, 1992), but the hatching success of the Nazca
booby is much lower than that of the blue-footed booby, apparently due to
exceptionally high infertility or early embryonic death (Anderson, 1990). On
average, the benefit of having the back-up chick is greater than the cost of pro-
ducing the wasteful second youngster that will just be killed. Thus fatal sibling
rivalry is in the best interests of the parents (as well of as the core chicks), and
their lack of interference is expected.
There is a third hypothesis for the evolution of siblicide, and that is as a
back-up food supply for the dominant offspring (Mock & Forbes, 1995).
210 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Parents thus convert relatively low-cost nutrients (marginal young) for emer-
gency rations for the more-likely-to-succeed youngsters. This probably
accounts for the sand tiger sharks’ siblicidal acts, but birds and mammals sel-
dom eat their dead siblings. Usually siblicide for nutrients is not specifically
orchestrated by the parents as it is when it occurs for insurance or resource-
tracking reasons. By practicing siblicide, the individual is eliminating some
of its own genes that could pass to the next generation; thus cannibalism for
the food value should be practiced on nonkin. The cannibalistic morph of
spadefoot toads (Spea multiplicata) is characterized by a large head and jaw
muscles. The development of this morphology is environmentally cued by
the type of food that is available when the cannibals have an advantage over
the omnivore morph. In fact, the cannibalistic toads show some ability to rec-
ognize siblings and refrain from eating them; the omnivores have no such skill
in recognizing kin (Pfenning, 1999).
to outcompete their siblings for resources. Parents are equally related to each
of their young and might favor an equitable distribution, but each individual
values its own welfare twice as much as it values it siblings’ because they
share only 50 percent of the same genes at best. So as long as parents deliver
individual packets of food, it behooves each youngster to try to get a dispro-
portionately large share of it. This suggests that begging is a means to manipu-
late parents to deliver more resources than is optimal for the parent because it
is more than that particular individual needs. However, begging is a commu-
nication signal, and as such it is thought to have evolved because is confers a
benefit to both the sender and the receiver; that is, parental response plays a
role in shaping the begging signal. If the young differ in condition, parents
might benefit if they can tell which youngster is in the greatest need to prefer-
entially feed it because it would get a greater benefit than its better-fed siblings.
Thus parents gain if greater need is signaled by more vigorous begging. The
costly nature of begging suggests that it should be an honest signal of need
(Kilner & Johnstone, 1997); that is, if it did not come with a cost, each would
demand everything it could get, and parents would gain no information and
would ignore differences.
Many studies have shown that begging intensity is an honest indication of
need. For example, yellow-headed blackbird (Xanthocephalus xanthocephalus)
nestlings in an experimentally altered brood of four consistently begged longer
than those in a brood of three (Price, 1996) and begged longer if they were
smaller than their competitors or in poor condition. Nestlings that were
deprived of food for 30, 60, or 90 minutes begged harder the longer they
had gone without. Male yellow-headed blackbird youngsters grow faster and
must reach a greater weight before fledging than their sisters. Males begged
louder and longer and ate more than females for any hunger level (Price
et al. 1996). In this species at least, begging can communicate both long-
term (males need more and begged more) and short-term (longer deprivation
led to longer begging) need. Furthermore begging worked. When begging by
the yellow-headed blackbird nestling was enhanced by adding recorded vocal-
izations, parents doubled their feeding visits, suggesting that they do use the
information provided by begging (Price, 1998).
Not surprisingly, most studies on begging have been conducted on birds.
Studies on burying beetles have also supported the prediction that begging
can be an honest signal of need. Food-deprived larvae and smaller, younger
larvae begged longer than their better-fed and larger brood mates. Begging
increased with brood size up to a point, and the time spent feeding the larvae
by both parents together was strongly associated with the time spent begging
by each larva. When the hunger levels of individuals within the brood was
212 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
PARENT-OFFSPRING CONFLICT
Although most of the time parents “want” what is best for their offspring
and vice versa, each share only half of their genes with the other. In the eyes
of the offspring, this devalues parental sacrifices, and in the eyes of the parents,
future offspring could benefit from energy saved. Thus the level of care that
maximally benefits the young is more than the parents should give if they
maximize their lifetime reproductive success. Furthermore, offspring care
more about their own welfare that than of a sibling, future or current (Trivers,
1974; see Figure 7.4). The greater the discrepancy between offspring and
parental optima, the greater the conflict. Often conflict flares towards the
A NEST OF VIPERS : CONFLICT AND COOPERATION IN FAMILIES 213
Figure 7.4. The basis of parent-offspring conflict. The benefit to the offspring increases
quickly with the first investment because a little does a lot of good, but as the young
get more, additional investment makes less of a difference. Another way to think of it
is that as the offspring grow and become more independent, benefit levels off as more
food or care does not increase survival or quality very much. The cost to the parent (in
terms of future reproduction) in providing this investment is expected to be more or
less linear, each bit of increase in effort being the same cost at a high or low level. Thus
for the parent the maximum net fitness gain (B–C) is at parental investment P.
However, from the offspring’s perspective, the cost to the parent is only half as much
because the parent and future offspring only share half of the same genes. Thus the
maximum net fitness gain (B–1/2C) is at parental investment level O. Between time
period or investment level P and O, offspring want more than parents want to give,
and there is a conflict. (Redrawn from Trivers, 1974)
end of the stage when young are dependent on parental feeding. Fledglings
harass their parents for more food when they are already fatter than their
parents, and young mammals can have temper tantrums when denied milk
during weaning.
One of the most startling examples of parent-offspring conflict has been
proposed to manifest itself during human pregnancy (Haig, 1993). Some
214 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
pregnancies progress smoothly; baby and mother appear to be in sync, and the
baby is born at a reasonable size with minimal fuss. But more often than not,
the mother has endured months of pregnancy sickness and possibly danger-
ously high blood pressure and gestational diabetes. The latter two problems
can be attributed to the demands of the fetus to get more nourishment
through the placenta than is good for the mother. Preeclampsia, or danger-
ously high blood pressure, can benefit the fetus because it increases the blood
flow through the placenta, and more blood means more nutrients. This condi-
tion is common when the placental growth is poor and the placenta is
embedded shallowly in the uterus. It appears to be the fetus’s way of compen-
sating, but the mechanism is not yet known. In gestational diabetes, the fetus
secrets a hormone (human placental lactogen) that reduces the mother’s sensi-
tivity to insulin. The result is increased blood glucose levels that the fetus uses
to good advantage.
Offspring begging can be seen as manipulation to get from the parents
more than they want to give, or, if it is costly, it may be the mediator to resolve
the conflict; parents can know what they need, not just what they want. If
parents adjust the rate of feeding in response to begging and offspring adjust
their begging in response to the amount of food received, parent-offspring
conflict can also be understood as an evolutionary process between supply
and demand, each affecting the other. Thus the level of begging and the level
of feeding have some genetic basis and have evolved together. This relation-
ship can be explored with cross-fostering experiments in which some members
of one brood are exchanged with those of another, leaving a mix of genetic and
foster offspring in each brood. Some experiments, but not others, have shown a
positive relation between begging and feeding; that is, in families where offspring
are genetically inclined to beg more, parents are genetically inclined to feed more
(Smiseth et al., 2008). This experimental approach can often reveal if parents
ultimately control feeding or if offspring begging manipulates parents to the det-
riment of their future reproductive success. Species differ.
CONCLUSIONS—NEW HORIZONS
Through exploring parental behavior, this chapter has sought to elucidate
some of the many ways that family members cooperate or are in conflict with
other members. The discipline of behavioral ecology is well developed, and
hypotheses to predict the behavioral outcome of interactions have been
proposed; this has encouraged tests of these hypotheses in a wide diversity of
species from invertebrates to mammals. Much less is known about the mech-
anisms that regulate parental and offspring behavior. Arguably the most
A NEST OF VIPERS : CONFLICT AND COOPERATION IN FAMILIES 215
exciting are hormonal and genetic mechanisms. Two examples follow for
which these mechanisms have been uncovered as a suggestion for how fruitful
further exploration should be.
Many birds lay eggs that hatch asynchronously. Later-hatched chicks have a
disadvantage, and this may or may not be in the best interest of the mother.
Mothers may vary the amount of the hormone testosterone that they put into
the eggs. The general consequences are that chicks from eggs with higher tes-
tosterone beg more vigorously. The consequences of increased begging on off-
spring fitness are complicated: It can have either a negative or positive effect on
growth and survival. Most likely this is related to available resources. In lean
years, the extra effort put into begging reduces growth, and in good years off-
spring get more food. One would predict that mothers would apply more tes-
tosterone to either level the playing field for late-born youngsters or to increase
the competitive asymmetry, depending on the desired outcome to raise
all chicks or to allow siblicide to proceed at a low cost to the older chick. How-
ever, there is not strong evidence for this prediction (Smiseth et al., 2011). We
need more information on the commonness of maternal hormonal manipula-
tion of offspring condition and on how endogenous offspring hormones
(rather than experimentally altered titers) affect begging and whether this
might be a counterweapon to help regulate their begging.
More and more of the genetic basis for behavior is being discovered each
month, and among the most interesting new research is the genetic basis for
monogamy and paternal care in mammals. Monogamy is rare in mammals,
and even for these species, individuals can be “unfaithful.” Rodent mating sys-
tems vary from monogamous to promiscuous. The monogamous prairie
vole’s (Microtus ochrogaster) social behavior is characterized by pair bonding,
biparental care, and increased defense by males, whereas in the promiscuous
meadow vole (Microtus pennsylvanicus) males seek out new females after each
mating and provide little assistance rearing the litter. The dramatic increase
in the receptors for the neurotransmitter vasopressin in the appropriate brain
centers facilitates fidelity and good parenting in the monogamous males. (This
brain center, the ventral pallidum, is generally involved with addiction and
pleasure perception.) The genetic basis for this increase in vasopressin recep-
tors has been identified as a stretch of repeats in the section of DNA that reg-
ulates the gene Avpr1a; the more repeats, the more receptors, the greater
sensitivity to vasopressin, and the stronger the partner preference. When the
extra bit of DNA was introduced into the genome of the promiscuous
meadow vole, these males provided more paternal care, retrieving and licking
the pups (Nair & Young, 2006). There is increasing evidence that this
“monogamy gene” may be linked to pair-bonding behavior in many mammal
216 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
species, including humans (Walum et al., 2008). Although the genetic basis of
behavior will no doubt prove to be very complex, the more we know about the
underpinnings of the differences in social behavior, the more exciting the
revelations become and the more we can expand our understanding into
human behavior and the evolution of behavior in general.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank my colleagues, Jessica Bolker, David Berlinsky and
Adrienne Kovach, for years of good conversations and the National Science
Foundation and the U.S. Department of Agriculture for financial support.
Forbes, S. & B. Glassy. (2000). Asymmetric sibling rivalry and nestling growth in red-
winged blackbirds (Agelaius phoeniceus). Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology,
48, 413–417.
Gilmore, R. G., J. W. Dodrill, & P. A. Linley. (1983). Reproduction and embryonic
development of the sand tiger shark, Odontaspis taurus (Rafinesque). Fishery
Bulletin, 81, 201–225.
Goodall, J. v. L. & H. van Lawick. (1971). In the Shadow of Man. New York:
Houghton Mifflin.
Gross, M. R. & R. Shine. (1981). Parental care and mode of fertilization in ectother-
mic vertebrates. Evolution, 35, 775–793.
Gwynne, D. T. (1986). Courtship feeding in katydids (Orthoptera: Tettigoniidae):
Investment in offspring or in obtaining fertilizations? American Naturalist,
128, 342–352.
Gwynne, D. T. (1988a). Courtship feeding and the fitness of female katydids
(Orthoptera: Tettigoniidae). Evolution, 42, 545–555.
Gwynne, D. T. (1988b). Courtship feeding in katydids benefits the mating male’s
offspring. Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 23, 373–377.
Haig, D. (1993). Genetic conflicts in human pregnancy. Quarterly Review of Biology,
68, 495–532.
Humphries, C. A., V. D. Arevalo, K. N. Fischer, & D. J. Anderson. (2006). Contri-
butions of marginal offspring to reproductive success of Nazca booby (Sula
granti) parents: Tests of multiple hypotheses. Oecologia, 147, 379–390.
Kam, Y.-C. & H.-W. Yang. (2002). Female-offspring communication in a Taiwanese
tree frog, Chirixalus eiffingeri (Anura: Rhacophoridae). Animal Behaviour, 64,
881–886.
Kilner, R. & R. A. Johnstone. (1997). Begging the question: Are offspring solicitation
behaviours signals of need? Trends in Ecology and Evolution, 12, 11–15.
Klug, H. & M. B. Bonsall. (2007). When to care for, abandon, or eat your offspring:
The evolution of parental care and filial cannibalism. American Naturalist, 170,
886–901.
Kokko, H. & M. Jennions. (2003). It takes two to tango. Trends in Ecology and
Evolution, 18, 103–104.
Komdeur, J. & J. Ekman. (2010). Adaptation and constraints in the evolution of
delayed dispersal: Implications for cooperation. In T. Szekely, A. Moore, &
J. Komdeur (eds.), Social Behavior: Genes, Ecology and Evolution (pp. 306–327).
Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Kvarnemo, C. (2010). Parental care. In D. F. Westneat & C. W. Fox (eds.), Evolu-
tionary Behavioral Ecology (pp. 451–467). Oxford, UK: Oxford University
Press.
Lack, D. (1947). The significance of clutch size. Ibis, 89, 302–352.
Lee, A. K. & A. Cockburn. (1985). Evolutionary Ecology of Marsupials. Cambridge,
UK: Cambridge University Press.
Manica, A. (2007). Filial cannibalism in teleost fish. Biological Reviews, 77,
261–277.
218 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Mas, F., K. F. Haynes, & M. Kölliker. (2009). A chemical signal of offspring quality
affects maternal care in a social insect. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London,
B, 276, 2847–2853.
Mehlis, M., T. C. M. Bakker, L. Engqvist, & J. G. Frommen. (2010). To eat or not
to eat: Egg-based assessment of paternity triggers fine-tuned decisions about
filial cannibalism. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 277, 2627–
2635.
Mock, D. W. & L. S. Forbes. (1995). The evolution of parental optimism. Trends in
Ecology and Evolution, 10, 130–133.
Mock, D. W. & T. C. Lamey. (1991). The role of brood size in regulating egret
sibling aggression. American Naturalist, 138, 1015–1026.
Nair, H. P. & L. J. Young. (2006). Vasopressin and pair-bond formation: Genes to
brain to behavior. Physiology, 21, 146–152.
Okuda, N. & Y. Yanagisawa. (1996). Filial cannibalism by mouthbrooding males of
the cardinal fish, Apogon doederleini, in relation to their physical condition.
Environmental Biology of Fishes, 45, 397–404.
Panaitof, S. C., M. P. Scott, & D. W. Borst. (2004). Plasticity in juvenile hormone in
male burying beetles during breeding: Physiological consequences of the loss of
a mate. Journal of Insect Physiology, 50, 715–724.
Pettifor, R. A. (1993a). Brood-manipulation experiments. I. The number of offspring
surviving per nest in blue tits (Parus caeruleus). Journal of Animal Ecology, 62,
131–144.
Pettifor, R. A. (1993b). Brood-manipulation experiments. II. A cost of reproduction
in blue tits (Parus caeruleus). Journal of Animal Ecology, 62, 145–159.
Pfennig, D. W. (1999). Cannibalistic tadpoles that pose the greatest threat to kin are
the most likely to discriminate kin. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B,
266, 57–61.
Price, K. (1996). Begging as competition for food in yellow-headed blackbirds. Auk,
113, 963–967.
Price, K. (1998). Benefits of begging for yellow-headed blackbird nestlings. Animal
Behaviour, 56, 571–577.
Price, K., H. Harvey, & R. Ydenberg. (1996). Begging tactics of nestling yellow-
headed blackbirds, Xanthocephalus, xanthocephalus, in relation to need. Animal
Behaviour, 51, 421–435.
Rauter, C. M. & A. J. Moore. (1999). Do honest signalling models of spring solicitation
apply to insects? Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 266, 1691–1696.
Rickard, I. J., A. F. Russell, & V. Lummas. (2007). Producing sons reduces lifetime
reproductive success of subsequent offspring in pre-industrial Finns. Proceed-
ings of the Royal Society of London, B, 274, 2981–2988.
Rohwer, S. (1978). Parental cannibalism of offspring and egg raiding as a courtship
strategy. American Naturalist, 112, 429–440.
Scott, M. P. (1990). Brood guarding and the evolution of male parental care in bury-
ing beetles. Behavioural Ecology and Sociobiology, 26, 31–39.
A NEST OF VIPERS : CONFLICT AND COOPERATION IN FAMILIES 219
INTRODUCTION
The ways in which animals occupy and share space have intrigued biologists
for decades, and there is an extensive body of literature describing the spacing
patterns of many animal species from diverse taxa (Allee, 1931; Brown &
Orians, 1970; Maher & Lott, 2000). Many of the initial investigations of
the mechanisms causing individuals to exhibit a particular type of spacing
behavior (proximate factors) and why a specific type of spacing system
evolved (ultimate factors) focused on interspecific differences in space use.
These patterns of space use reflect the average or most common pattern of
spacing among individuals of a specific species, and all individuals of the same
species were thought to display the same species-specific pattern of spatial
dispersion and space use (Brown, 1975).
Evidence began to appear suggesting that a phylogenetic explanation for
spacing patterns was not always correct (Brown, 1975). Different spacing pat-
terns were found within the same taxa, and similarities in spacing patterns
were noted in unrelated species living under similar environmental conditions.
*
Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra, Act 2, Scene 3
222 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 8.1. Proximate factors (e.g., ecological or genetic) can result in intraspecific
variation in space use by differentially influencing the behavior of individuals. The
manner in which individuals are spatially distributed can have substantial conse-
quences for reproductive behavior as well as population structure and dynamics.
unusual among animals, and most patterns of spatial dispersion tend towards
either an aggregated or uniform distribution. Although animal space use is re-
ally a continuum, the spatial distribution of individuals relative to each other
can be categorized into a small number of commonly recognized discrete
spacing systems.
defending the home ranges of more than one female, although a small propor-
tion of males (19–36 percent) manage to do so (Kishimoto, 2003).
Many hypotheses have been proposed to explain the evolution and mainte-
nance of social monogamy. When females are widely dispersed, often thought
to be the result of resource dispersion or female-female aggression, each male
home range may only be able to overlap the home range of primarily one
female, resulting in social monogamy. Territories defended by one male and
one female may occur where males do not differ much in body mass so one
male cannot prevent other males from gaining access to females and the pop-
ulation sex ratio is 1:1. Benefits due to joint territorial defense and mate guard-
ing also have been proposed to explain social monogamy. These hypotheses
are not necessarily mutually exclusive, and both joint territorial defense and
mate guarding have been thought to explain social monogamy in pair-living
snapping shrimp of the genus Alpheus, for example (Matthews, 2002). Finally,
the need for biparental care can explain social monogamy in some species (see
Table 3.2 in Brotherton & Komers, 2003), but not others.
Aggregations
Aggregated patterns of individuals may be due to social tendencies (e.g., co-
operative care of offspring or predator defense) or to a clumped distribution of re-
sources (e.g., food or mates). Some types of groups form when multiple
individuals are simply attracted to some feature of the environment (Brown &
Orians, 1970; Wittenberger, 1981) in contrast to the social groups formed by
other species such as communal nesters or eusocial animals such as hymenoptera
species (see Table 9.1 in Bourke, 1997) or naked mole-rats (Heterocephalus
glaber; Jarvis, 1981; Lacey & Sherman, 1991). In eusocial species, there is a
much more complex social structure (e.g., division of labor). Avian flocks, fish
schools, and mammalian herds would be intermediate in this continuum of
sociality. In flocks, schools, and herds, social factors hold individuals together,
but there is no division of labor and the groups are without a dominant breeding
pair or leader as seen in eusocial insects and mammals. Many classification
schemes have been proposed to define different types of groups, but we will
not discuss classification schemes or all forms of animal spatial grouping in this
chapter. Rather, we will restrict ourselves to only a few types of space use here.
Fish schools, bird flocks, or mammalian herds—Two important criteria used in
defining a group of this type are density and behavior. Density abruptly increases
when the edge of this type of group is encountered, and there is often some
type(s) of complex, coordinated behavior (such as coordinated movement) result-
ing from social interactions between individuals (Beiswenger, 1975).
MAKE SPACE ENOUGH BETWEEN YOU 227
might serve as centers for recruiting individuals for group foraging. Additionally,
it has been proposed that coloniality may be a side effect of conspecific attraction
in habitat selection or sexual selection (Morton et al., 1990; Danchin & Wagner,
1997). Conspecific cues can lead to the formation of invertebrate colonies
(Meadows & Campbell, 1972), and evidence suggests that this can occur in
some vertebrates. For example, Jan Veen (1977) was able to attract sandwich
terns (Sterna sandvicencis) to an area using decoys. These individuals settled in
between the decoys initially and then settled on territories around the newly
established colony. Finally, Gene Morton and colleagues (1990) proposed that
colonies might form due to benefits to older males from extra-pair matings with
females whose partners were younger males. Monogamous females may benefit
from having aggregated territories like those seen in a colony for the same reason
because females with male social partners also could obtain extra-pair matings
(Wagner, 1993; Wagner et al., 1996).
Communal nesting—Communal nesting occurs when more than one breed-
ing female occupies a single nest or chamber within a burrow. Communal nest-
ing is fairly widespread among many species of insects (Wilson, 1971) and refers
to a relatively simple form of social organization where individuals share a nest
and each individual produces and provisions her own offspring. There is no
reproductive division of labor and no overlap of generations such as is seen in
eusocial insects (Michener, 1974). Communal nesting also has been reported
in numerous species of birds and mammals such as rodents and banded mongoo-
ses (Mungos mungo; Gilchrist et al., 2004). In these species, females often share in
care of offspring (Hayes, 2000; Vehrencamp & Quinn, 2004), and offspring
may benefit from an increase in care (Lewis & Pusey, 1997; Branchi, 2009).
Despite these benefits, communal nesting is often costly. In some species, such
as greater anis (Crotophaga major), in which multiple monogamous pairs nest
together, females eject each other’s eggs (see also Vehrencamp & Quinn,
2004). In this species, though, benefits may outweigh costs because pairs in larger
groups have greater reproductive success (Riehl, 2011).
before the storm. Furthermore, although male home ranges did not overlap
prior to the storm, there was extensive overlap of home ranges afterwards.
Controlled field manipulations of the abundance of natural food sources also
have shown decreases in territory size in response to higher food levels in mol-
lusks (e.g., owl limpet, Lottia gigantean; Stimson, 1973), insects (e.g., Leucotri-
chia pictipes; Hart, 1985), fish (e.g., rainbow trout, Oncorhynchus mykiss;
Keeley & McPhail, 1998), lizards (e.g., spiny lizard, Sceloporus jarrovi; Simon,
1975), birds (rufus hummingbird, Selasphorus rufus; Hixon et al., 1983), and
mammals (e.g., eastern chipmunk, Tamias striatus; Mares et al., 1982). The
importance of these experimental studies is that they demonstrate a direct
causal link between food abundance and territory size.
The distribution of food resources is another commonly investigated varia-
ble proposed to influence spacing patterns. Some experimental manipulations
showed that territoriality occurred when food was clumped but not when it
was evenly distributed (Zahavi, 1971; Grant & Guha, 1993). In addition,
differences in the distribution of food are correlated with the distribution of
individuals such as prairie voles (Microtus ochrogaster). Dicots, which are criti-
cal in the diet of prairie voles, were more clumped at a study site in Indiana
than at a geographically distinct study site in Kansas. Adult females, males,
and nest sites also were more clumped in Indiana than in Kansas, resulting
in considerable home-range overlap among neighboring females compared to
females in the Kansas population (Streatfeild et al., 2011).
As with food abundance, results from observational studies examining food
distribution and spacing patterns are inconsistent, which may be partially due
to the fact that there are a number of differences in methodologies used in pre-
vious studies. It is also possible that the relationship between the food distribu-
tion and territoriality may be best explained, as was the relationship between
food quantity and territoriality, by an inverted U-shaped curve where moder-
ately clumped resources are the only ones that are worth defending (Craig &
Douglas, 1986).
Investigations of both food abundance and distribution generally showed
that limited, patchy food resulted in increased territoriality. Consistent with
these findings, when food was abundant and patchy, animals did not defend
territories (e.g., black bears, Ursus americanus; Rogers, 1987).
Some studies also showed that types of prey could influence space use. In
Great Britain, badgers (Meles meles) feed primarily on earthworms, which are
very abundant, but in continental Europe earthworms are typically much less
abundant and badgers tend to specialize on foods such as rabbits (Oryctolagus
cuniculus), insects, and fruit (Johnson et al., 2000). Throughout continental
Europe, badgers are typically solitary with little home-range overlap among
MAKE SPACE ENOUGH BETWEEN YOU 231
by some (e.g., Magurran & Higham, 1988; Treherne & Foster, 1981) but not
all experimental manipulations that have been conducted (Lima, 1995).
The many-eyes hypothesis is not necessarily distinct from the dilution
effect, which states that as group size increases, the risk of predation for an
individual decreases because the predator can only catch or eat a certain num-
ber of prey. The benefit from the dilution effect may be offset by the cost of
larger groups becoming more conspicuous. Thus, these two factors need to
be examined together to determine if there is a net benefit from grouping
(see also Turner & Pitcher, 1986). These ideas are also related to the selfish
herd effect (Hamilton, 1971), where individuals not only benefit from being
in a group versus being solitary but also benefit by keeping other group mem-
bers between themselves and a potential predator. Finally, the predator confu-
sion effect describes a reduction in the ability of a predator to single out and
kill an individual when it is in a group versus when it is solitary. This effect
would have the biggest impact when group members look very similar and
any individual that looks quite different would enable the predator to focus
upon it more easily (Krause & Ruxton, 2002).
Evidence for particular effects of grouping is limited because it is difficult to
distinguish among them. Additionally, if one of these particular benefits is not
sufficient for an individual to become part of a group, it may be that individ-
uals gain multiple benefits from grouping. In general, studies have provided
support for the effect of predation on spacing behavior, particularly for group
formation under conditions of higher predation, but it is important to also
consider the costs of group formation, such as increased conspicuousness to
a predator, when attempting to determine net benefits to grouping.
Population density is another ecological variable that has often been cited as
correlated with intraspecific variation in spacing behavior. Although prairie
voles are considered socially monogamous, within a population they may live
as single individuals, male-female pairs, or in groups containing at least two
adults of the same sex but frequently three or more voles. The proportion of
groups increases with increasing density in natural populations (Getz et al.,
1987) as well as in seminatural populations (Cochran & Solomon, 2000;
Lucia et al., 2008). Home-range size is also smaller at higher densities
(Solomon et al., 2009). As found in studies of food abundance and distribu-
tion, the results of studies in which the relationship between population den-
sity and territoriality was examined are inconsistent. Many investigators report
the occurrence of territoriality only at low or moderate population densities
and that territorial defense disappears at high density, although this not a
universal result (reviewed by Maher & Lott, 2000). It may be that different
investigators use the terms low, moderate, and high differently or that the
MAKE SPACE ENOUGH BETWEEN YOU 233
For example, Ernest Keeley and J. Donald McPhail (1998) showed that
territory size in juvenile steelhead trout (Oncorhynchus mykiss) was significantly
inversely related to food abundance, but there was no significant affect of
intruder pressure on territory size.
testosterone. In the nonbreeding season, typically winter, many birds and small
mammals increase their immune and thermogenic (heat-producing) activity so
they can survive through the winter. Because high levels of testosterone suppress
the immune system and increase energetic costs, maintenance of high levels of
testosterone would increase winter mortality (Wingfield et al., 2001).
Previous studies also suggest that neuropeptides, such as arginine vasopres-
sin and serotonin, modulate aggression in a number of species including crus-
taceans, amphibians, birds, and mammals. For example, neural infusions of
vasopressin inhibited aggressive chases and songs in two species of territorial
birds (Goodson, 1998a, 1998b). Similarly, some species of birds and mam-
mals also show an inverse relationship between serotonin levels and aggression
(Edwards & Krawitz, 1997; Sperry et al., 2003; Ten Eyck, 2008).
There is much less known about the hormonal responses to a territorial
intrusion in females. The few studies that exist suggest that hormonal control
of territorial aggression in females is different from that in males. Female song
sparrows (Melospiza melodia) that experienced simulated territorial intrusions
had significantly lower levels of testosterone and dihydrotestosterone than
controls (Elekonich & Wingfield, 2000). There were no differences between
groups with or without simulated intrusions in levels of estradiol, progester-
one, or corticosterone. In a similar study with the monogamous California
mouse (Peromyscus californicus), a decrease in progesterone and the progester-
one/testosterone ratio was the only hormonal change following simulated
territorial intrusion (Davis & Marler, 2003), again suggesting that territorial
aggression by females is not facilitated by increased testosterone as seen in
males. Androgens may limit female aggression to a short-term response rather
than facilitating it, which may prevent aggression from interfering with repro-
duction (Elekonich & Wingfield, 2000).
still a defenseless juvenile would increase detection and, therefore, the risk of
predation (Tinbergen et al., 1967; Butler et al., 1999). New Zealand spiny
lobsters ( Jasus edwardsii) are solitary when they are young and small but
become more social when they get older and larger, settling with others in
dens (Butler et al., 1999). Aggregation occurs as a response to conspecific
chemical cues, but the response to chemical cues does not develop until the
lobsters are adolescents. Aggregation of subadults and adults appears to be
adaptive. Mark Butler and colleagues (1999) found no difference in survival
in solitary or aggregated juvenile lobsters, but survival more than doubled
when subadults were grouped as compared to when they were solitary. In a
few cases such as the spiny lobster, this ontogenetic shift in spacing behavior
may be due to developmental constraints. For example, some marine fish do
not begin to school until metamorphosis. At this time, the larvae begin to
show pigmentation and are more visible to predators (Gallego & Heath,
1994), so it is adaptive to school at this time.
One study of brown trout (Salmo trutta) showed that despite rearing envi-
ronment, aggression occurred in all dyadic encounters, but the level of aggres-
sion differed depending on early rearing environment (Sundstrum et al.,
2003). Brown trout that had been reared under high-density conditions (in a
hatchery) displayed more aggression and initiated aggressive encounters sooner
than individuals from low-density populations in the wild, in contrast to what
had been predicted. The authors suggested that this may be due to lack of
experience in territorial encounters and in assessing fighting ability among
hatchery-reared fish compared to wild trout. Similar results were seen in
another study where wild and hatchery-reared brown trout actually competed
for territories (Deverill et al., 1999). Interestingly, although hatchery-reared
fish initiated more aggressive encounters, they were not more successful at
obtaining better feeding territories than wild trout (Sundstrom et al., 2003;
Deverill et al., 1999). It is not clear what specific factor in the environments
may have caused the difference in levels of territorial aggression in these trout,
but it appeared that rearing environment did affect subsequent aggression.
Somewhat similar results were found in a study of the effects of population
density on schooling tendency in guppies (Chapman et al., 2008). Trinada-
dian guppies raised in low densities showed a greater tendency to school than
guppies raised in high densities. The investigators hypothesized that, in the
absence of predator cues, higher densities resulted in more aggression and thus
increased the costs of schooling relative to benefits during rearing.
In some species such as the desert locust (Schistocerca gregaria), which can
exist in a solitary or a gregarious phase, crowding or high densities not only
increases gregariousness during an individual’s lifetime but also in its offspring
238 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
individuals are excluded from territories, we expect that the number of breed-
ing males and females in the population would be limited (i.e., the population
will be regulated by density-dependent processes; Wolff, 1985; Both & Visser,
2003; López-Sepulcre & Kokko, 2005). For example, many species of spiders
are territorial, and at least some inhabit territories of fixed sizes (Reichert,
1981). Because territory size is fixed, additional individuals will not be able
to establish territories between already existing territories.
When the number of territorial individuals is limited due to constraints of
fixed territories, there would be an increase in the number of floaters, which were
assumed to be nonbreeders (Smith & Arcese, 1989; Kempenaers et al., 2001). If
they do not breed, an increase of floaters, instead of breeders, in the population
would lead to stable or decreased population density. A decrease in population
density would be expected if floaters cause direct disturbance or conflict for space
(López-Sepulcre & Kokko, 2005) such as has been reported in a number of spe-
cies of birds (Arcese et al., 1992; Komdeur, 1996), ayu fish (Plecoglossus altivelis;
Iguchi & Hino, 1996), and red squirrels (Sciurus vulgaris; Wauters & Lens,
1995). A limit on the number of breeders depends on whether or not territory
size is compressible (i.e., whether resources are divisible, Both & Visser, 2003)
and how reproductive success is affected by territory size (López-Sepulcre &
Kokko, 2005). Now that we are finding that floaters do reproduce in at least
some species (Kempenaers et al., 2001; Solomon & Keane, unpublished data),
we will need to rethink their influence on population density. The effect of
reproductive floaters on population density will depend on their contribution
to the population versus the contribution of resident breeders.
In species where the size of the territory is flexible, individuals may establish
territories between the boundaries of previously established territories or cause
territorial residents to defend smaller territories, which would allow previous
floaters or recruits to establish territories (e.g., Eurasian oystercatchers, Hae-
matopus ostralegus; Heg et al., 2000). This pattern could result in increasing
population density through the settlement of floaters or decreasing density
through decreasing birth or survival of offspring from established breeders. If
food is the limiting resource for females and the amount of food affects repro-
duction, we expect there to be density-dependent reproduction that influences
population size or density by means of territoriality. At high density, we expect
that the optimal territory size will be decreased, and thus reproduction or
reproductive success should decrease (Both & Visser, 2003). In areas where
great tits (Parus major) have large, contiguous territories, there is strong
density-dependent reproduction (Both, 1998).
The results from a number of studies on the effects of territoriality on pop-
ulation density are inconsistent, which may be due to the lack of certainty
MAKE SPACE ENOUGH BETWEEN YOU 241
about whether or not the resource being defended was critical or whether the
size of territories was flexible (Adams, 2001; Both & Visser, 2003). No effect
on population size has been found in some of the studies of rodents. Ylönen
and Viitala (1991) housed bank voles in experimental enclosures where they
were given either clumped, predictable food or evenly distributed food.
Although spacing behavior of females differed depending on the distribution
of food resources and females in the clumped food treatment produced their
first litter earlier in the spring, there were no differences in population size in
late spring. It was assumed that the critical resource that females were compet-
ing for was food, but high-quality nest sites could also have been important. In
addition, the length of the study may have been too short for an effect to be
seen. It is also not known what would have happened to population sizes if
the study had continued later into the breeding season. A subsequent study
by Alice Rémy (2011) has shown that female bank voles in plots with clumped
food were more aggregated compared to females in the dispersed-food treat-
ment. Female aggregation was a strong predictor of population size during
the breeding as well as the nonbreeding season. Analyses suggested that voles
in all treatments had similar access to food resources. Therefore, it was most
likely that differences in social interactions, due to differences in spacing,
resulted in differences in population size.
Effects on Conservation
Anthropogenic activities are substantially altering many natural ecosystems.
A better understanding of the extent and basis of intraspecific variation in
space use is vital for accurately predicting how species will respond to environ-
mental change as well as for the effective conservation and management of a
species. Spacing patterns can influence a number of factors that are relevant
to conservation including growth rates of a population, susceptibility of a pop-
ulation to disease, responses of a population to exploitation and recovery, and
recolonization of habitats (Dobson & Poole, 1998). In a number of species,
conspecific aggregation or attraction is responsible for at least some of these
effects. In many species, individuals use the presence of cues from conspecifics
to determine whether or not a particular habitat is suitable for survival and
reproduction (see work by Stamps, 1988, on conspecific attraction).
Another effect that has received some attention in the last decade is the
Allee effect, which describes a phenomenon where the reproductive rate of a
population declines with declining population density (Allee, 1931). If popu-
lation growth depends on encounter rates between opposite-sex conspecifics
or group size, then spacing patterns will have conservation consequences.
242 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
If the encounter rates, particularly with members of the opposite sex, or group
size fall below a certain threshold, then the population may decline until
reproduction ceases and that population becomes extinct (Courchamp et al.,
1999). In addition, when the size of a group or population becomes very
small, the time it takes for that population to go extinct will decrease (Dobson
& Poole, 1998).
Dispersion of individuals within a habitat can also affect the likelihood and
timing of parasite or pathogen transmission, which also can lead to severe pop-
ulation decreases or extinction. For example, rabies and canine distemper
affected African wild dogs (Lycaon pictus) in the early 1990s, which resulted
in local population extinction (Alexander & Appel, 1994; Kat et al., 1995).
Differences in the sizes of nearest-neighbor distances among individuals living
in groups can result in differences in pathogen establishment and transmission
rates. For example, African wild dogs and lions (Panthera leo) live in relatively
small groups, but the rate of spread of pathogens between groups was slow
compared to the spread in North Sea harbor seal (Phoca vitulina) colonies,
where many individuals died because these seals live in large groups (Dobson
& Poole, 1998).
Exploitation of elephant populations has resulted in a continent-wide
decrease in numbers of greater than 95 percent in the past 200 years
(Millner-Gulland et al., 1993). The size of the group in which females live
contributes to the problem of finding a suitable mate. Females in widely dis-
persed, small groups had approximately a 39 percent reproductive rate com-
pared to females living in a single large group. Females in the latter situation
had an 87 percent reproductive rate (Dobson & Poole, 1998).
If a population of any particular species were to go extinct in a suitable hab-
itat, the presence of conspecifics or their cues may be necessary when attempt-
ing to reestablish a population in that habitat. Without the presence of
conspecifics, newly released or translocated individuals may not realize that
the habitat is suitable. To solve this problem, biologists have used decoys
and playback of species-specific calls to reestablish populations of extirpated
birds in suitable habitat patches (Kress, 1983; Ward & Schlossberg, 2004;
Parker et al., 2007). Thus, presence or spacing of individuals of the correct
sex and age class could have a positive impact on reintroduction programs.
CONCLUSIONS
A considerable body of information describing animal spacing sys-
tems across a broad range of taxa has accumulated over the last 50 years.
Flexibility in spacing behavior among individuals within a species in response
to environmental and individual conditions is commonly reported, but our
MAKE SPACE ENOUGH BETWEEN YOU 243
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We thank former postdoctoral associates and students for assistance with
research, which has allowed us to get a glimpse into the spacing patterns of prairie
voles and sparked our interest in this topic. We thank numerous colleagues and
former students for making us aware of some of the exciting developments in spac-
ing behavior. The National Science Foundation and National Institutes of Health
funded our work, which gave us the opportunity to investigate aspects of spacing
patterns. Any opinions, findings, and conclusions or recommendations expressed
in this material are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of
the National Science Foundation. We thank Ken Yasukawa for the opportunity
to learn more about this important topic in the writing of this chapter.
Alexander, K. A. & M. J. G. Appel. (1994). African wild dogs (Lycaon pictus) endan-
gered by a canine distemper epizootic among domestic dogs near the Masai
Mara National Reserve, Kenya. Journal of Wildlife Disease, 30, 481–485.
Allee, W. C. (1931). Animal Aggregations: A Study in General Sociology. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press.
Anderson, D. C. & P. J. Hodum. (1993). Predator behavior favors clumped nesting
in an oceanic seabird. Ecology, 74, 2462–2464.
Anderson, M. G. & R. D. Titman. (1992). Spacing patterns. In B. D. J. Batt, A. D.
Afton, M. G. Anderson, C. D. Ankney, D. H. Johnson, J. A. Kadlec, & G. L.
Krapu (eds.), Ecology and Management of Breeding Waterfowl (pp. 251–289).
Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Andersson, M. & F. Götmark. (1980). Social organization and foraging ecology in the
arctic skua, Stercorarius parasiticus: A test of the food defendability hypothesis.
Oikos, 35, 63–71.
Arcese, P., J. N. M. Smith, W. M. Hochachka, C. M. Rogers, & D. Ludwig. (1992).
Stability, regulation, and the determination of abundance in an insular song
sparrow population. Ecology, 73, 805–822.
Back, S. R., L. A. Beeler, R. L. Schaefer, & N. G. Solomon. (2002). Testing func-
tional hypotheses for the behavior of resident pine voles, Microtus pinetorum,
toward non-residents. Ethology, 108, 1023–1039.
Baldi, R., C. Campagna, S. Pedraza, J. Burney, & B. J. LeBoeuf. (1996). Social effects
of space availability on the breeding behavior of elephant seals in Patagonia.
Animal Behaviour, 51, 717–724.
Beiswenger, R. E. (1975). Structure and function in aggregations of tadpoles of the
American toad, Bufo americanus. Herpetologica, 31, 222–233.
Boonstra, R., J. E. Lane, S. Boutin, A. Bradley, L. Desantis, A. E. M. Newman, &
K. K. Soma. (2008). Plasma DHEA in wild, territorial red squirrels: Seasonal
variation and effect of ACTH. General and Comparative Endocrinology, 158,
61–67.
Both, C. (1998). Experimental evidence for density dependence of reproduction in
great tits. Journal of Animal Ecology, 67, 667–674.
Both, C. & M. E. Visser. (2003). Density dependence, territoriality, and divisibility
of resources: From optimality models to population processes. American Natu-
ralist, 161, 326–336.
Bourke, A. F. G. (1997). Sociality and kin selection in insects. In J. R. Krebs & N. B.
Davies (eds.), Behavioral Ecology: An Evolutionary Approach, Fourth Edition.
(pp. 203–227). Cambridge, MA: Blackwell Science.
Bowen, W. D. (1981). Variation in coyote social organization: The influence of prey
size. Canadian Journal of Zoology, 59, 639–652.
Bowyer, R. T. (1987). Coyote group size relative to predation on mule deer. Mamma-
lia, 51, 515–526.
Bradbury, J. W. (1977). Social organization and communication. In W. A. Wimsatt
(ed.), Biology of Bats, Vol. 3 (pp. 1–72). New York: Academic Press.
MAKE SPACE ENOUGH BETWEEN YOU 245
Branchi, I. (2009). The mouse communal nest: Investigating the epigenetic influen-
ces of the early social environment on brain and behavior development. Neuro-
science and Biobehavioral Reviews, 33, 551–559.
Brotherton, P. N. M. & P. E. Komers. (2003). Mate guarding and the evolution of
social monogamy in mammals. In U. H. Reichard & C. Boesch (eds.),
Monogamy: Mating Strategies and Partnerships in Birds, Humans and Other
Mammals (pp. 42–58). Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Brown, C. R. (1986). Cliff swallow colonies as information centers. Science, 234, 83–85.
Brown, J. L. (1964). The evolution of diversity in avian territorial systems. Wilson
Bulletin, 76, 160–169.
Brown, J. L. (1975). The Evolution of Behavior. New York: Norton.
Brown, J. L. & G. H. Orians. (1970). Spacing patterns in mobile animals. Annual
Review of Ecology and Systematics, 1, 239–262.
Butler, M. J., A. B. MacDiarmid, & J. D. Booth. (1999). The cause and consequence
of ontogenetic changes in social aggregation in New Zealand spiny lobster.
Marine Ecology Progress Series, 188, 179–191.
Caldwell, G. S, S. E. Glickman, & E. R. Smith. (1984). Seasonal aggression indepen-
dent of seasonal testosterone in wood rats. Proceedings of the National Academy
of Sciences, USA, 81, 5255–5257.
Carpenter, F. L. (1987). Food abundance and territoriality: To defend or not to
defend? American Zoologist, 27, 387–399.
Carpenter, F. L. & R. E. MacMillen. (1976). Threshold model of feeding territorial-
ity and test with a Hawaiian honeycreeper. Science, 194, 639–642.
Chapman, B. B., A. J. W. Ward, & J. Krause. (2008). Schooling and learning: Early
social environment predicts social learning ability in the guppy, Poecilia reticu-
lata. Animal Behaviour, 76, 923–929.
Chiozzi, G., G. de Marchi, & D. Semere. (2011). Coloniality in the crab plover Dro-
mas ardeola does not depend on nest site limitation. Waterbirds, 34, 77–81.
Clutton-Brock, T. H. (1991). The Evolution of Parental Care. Princeton, NJ: Prince-
ton University Press.
Cochran, G. R. & N. G. Solomon. (2000). Effects of food supplementation on the
social organization of prairie voles (Microtus ochrogaster). Journal of Mammal-
ogy, 81, 746–757.
Cole, K. S. & D. L. G. Noakes. (1980). Development of early social behavior of
rainbow trout, Salmo gairdneri (Pisces, Salmonidae). Behavioural Processes, 5,
97–112.
Corbet, N. U. & R. J. van Aarde. (1996). Social organization and space use in the Cape
porcupine in a southern African savanna. African Journal of Ecology, 34, 1–14.
Courchamp, F. T., T. Clutton-Brock, & B. Grenfell. (1999). Inverse density depen-
dence and the Allee effect. Trends in Ecology and Evolution, 14, 405–410.
Craig, J. L. & M. E. Douglas. (1986). Resource distribution, aggressive asymmetries
and variable access to resources in a nectar feeding bellbird. Behavioral Ecology
and Sociobiology, 18, 231–240.
246 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Riehl, C. (2011). Living with strangers: Direct benefits favour non-kin cooperation in
a communally nesting bird. Proceedings of the Royal Society, London, B, 278,
1728–1735.
Robertson, D. R., H. P. A. Sweatman, E. A. Fletcher, & M. G. Cleland. (1976).
Schooling as a mechanism for circumventing the territoriality of competitors.
Ecology, 57, 1208–1220.
Rogers, L. L. (1987). The effects of food supply and kinship on social behavior, move-
ments, and population growth of black bears in northeastern Minnesota. Wild-
life Monographs, 97, 1–72.
Rolland, C., E. Danchin, & M. de Fraipont. (1998). The evolution of coloniality in
birds in relation to food, habitat, predation, and life-history traits: A compara-
tive analysis. American Midland Naturalist, 151, 514–529.
Rubenstein, D. I. (1981). Population density, resource patterning, and territoriality in
the Everglades pygmy sunfish. Animal Behaviour, 29, 155–172.
Sandell, M. (1989). The mating tactics and spacing patterns of solitary carnivores. In
J. L. Gittleman (ed.), Carnivore Behavior, Ecology, and Evolution (pp. 164–182).
Ithaca, NY: Comstock Publishers and Associates of Cornell University Press.
Schoener, T. W. (1983). Simple models of optimal feeding-territory size: A recon-
ciliation. American Naturalist, 121, 608–629.
Schradin, C. & A. K. Lindholm. (2011). Relative fitness of alternative male reproductive
tactics in a mammal varies between years. Journal of Animal Ecology, 80, 908–917.
Schradin, C., A. K. Lindholm, J. Johannesen, I. Schoepf, C. H. Yuen, B. König, &
N. Pillay. (2012). Social flexibility and social evolution in mammals: A case
study of the African striped mouse (Rhabdomys pumilio). Molecular Ecology,
21, 541–553.
Seghers, B. H. (1974). Schooling behavior in the guppy (Poecilia reticulata): An evolu-
tionary response to predation. Evolution, 28, 486–489.
Shuster, S. M. (2009). Sexual selection and mating systems. Proceedings of the
National Academy of Sciences, USA, 106, 10009–10016.
Shuster, S. M. (2011). Differences in relative fitness among alternative mating tactics
might be more apparent than real. Journal of Animal Ecology, 80, 905–907.
Shuster, S. M. & M. J. Wade (1991). Equal mating success among male reproductive
strategies in a marine isopod. Nature, 350, 608–610.
Siegel-Causey, D. & S. P. Kharitonov. (1990). The evolution of coloniality. Current
Ornithology, 7, 285–330.
Simon, C. A. (1975). The influence of food abundance on territory size in the iguanid
lizard Sceloporus jarrovi. Ecology, 56, 993–998.
Sinervo, B., D. B. Miles, W. A. Frankino, M. Klukowski, & D. F. DeNardo. (2000).
Testosterone, endurance, and Darwinian fitness: Natural and sexual selection
on the physiological bases of alternative male behaviors in side-blotched liz-
ards. Hormones and Behavior, 38, 222–233.
Smith, J. N. M. & P. Arcese. (1989). How fit are floaters? Consequences of alterna-
tive territorial behaviors in a nonmigratory sparrow. American Naturalist,
133, 830–845.
254 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Smith, S. M. & J. W. Cain III. ( 2009). Foraging efficiency and vigilance behavior of
impala: The influence of herd size and neighbor density. African Journal of
Ecology, 47, 109–118.
Solomon, N. G., A. R. Richmond, P. A. Harding, A. Fries, S. Jacquemin, R. L.
Schaefer, K. E. Lucia, & B. Keane. (2009). Polymorphism at the avpr1a locus
in male prairie voles correlated with genetic but not social monogamy in field
populations. Molecular Ecology, 18, 4680–4695.
Soma, K. K., K. Sullivan, & J. Wingfield. (1999). Combined aromatase inhibitor and
antiandrogen treatment decreases territorial aggression in a wild songbird
during the nonbreeding season. General and Comparative Endocrinology, 115,
442–453.
Soma, K. K. & J. C. Wingfield. (2001). Dehydroepiandrosterone in songbird plasma:
Seasonal regulation and relationship to territorial aggression. General and Com-
parative Endocrinology, 123, 144–155.
Sperry, T. S., C. K. Thompson, & J. C. Wingfield. (2003). Effects of acute treat-
ment with 8-OH-DPAT and fluoxetine on aggressive behavior in male song
sparrows (Melospiza melodia morphna). Journal of Neuroendocrinology, 15,
150–160.
Stamps, J. (1988). Conspecific attraction and aggregation in territorial species. Ameri-
can Naturalist, 131, 329–347.
Stamps, J. (1994). Territorial behavior: Testing the assumptions. Advances in the
Study of Behavior, 23, 173–232.
Steury, T. D. & D. L. Murray. (2003). Causes and consequences of individual varia-
tion in territory size in the American red squirrel. Oikos, 101, 147–156.
Stimson, J. (1973). The role of the territory in the ecology of the intertidal limpet Lot-
tia gigantea (Gray). Evolution, 54, 1020–1030.
Streatfeild, C. A., K. E. Mabry, B. Keane, T. O. Crist, & N. G. Solomon. (2011).
Intraspecific variability in the social and genetic mating systems of prairie voles,
Microtus ochrogaster. Animal Behaviour, 82, 1387–1398.
Sundström, L. F., M. Lõhmus, & J. I. Johnsson. (2003). Investment in territorial
defense depends on rearing environment in brown trout (Salmo trutta). Behav-
ioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 54, 249–255.
Sutherland, W. J. (1996). From Individual Behavior to Population Ecology. New York:
Oxford University Press.
Taborsky, M. (1998). Sperm competition in fish: “Bourgeois” males and parasitic
spawning. Trends in Ecology and Evolution, 13, 222–227.
Taborsky, M. (2001). The evolution of bourgeois, parasitic, and cooperative repro-
ductive behaviors in fishes. Journal of Heredity, 92, 100–110.
Taborsky, M., R. F. Oliveira, & H. J. Brockmann. (2008). The evolution of alterna-
tive reproductive tactics: Concepts and questions. In R. F. Oliveira, M. Tabor-
sky, & H. J. Brockmann (eds.), Alternative Reproductive Tactics: An Integrated
Approach (pp. 1–21). Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Ten Eyck, G. R. (2008). Serotonin modulates vocalizations and territorial behavior in
an amphibian. Behavioural Brain Research, 193, 144–147.
MAKE SPACE ENOUGH BETWEEN YOU 255
INTRODUCTION
Social behavior encompasses a wide variety of interactions among animals, usu-
ally of the same species, ranging from simple attraction between individuals, to
temporary feeding aggregations and mating swarms, to multigenerational family
groups with cooperative brood care. Although some types of social behavior are
intuitively obvious, others are not, because social behavior is defined by the kind
of interaction involved, not by how organisms are distributed in space. Thus,
individuals can be aggregated but not engaged in social behavior; conversely,
clumping is not a requirement for individuals to behave socially, although it
clearly increases the opportunity for meaningful social interactions to take place.
Examples of individuals engaging in social behavior while not appearing particu-
larly social include a lone female tiger moth (family Arctiidae) emitting a phero-
mone designed to attract potential male mates (Cardé & Millar, 2009) and a
male red deer (Cervus elaphus) roaring in order to signal dominance (Clutton-
Brock & Albon, 1979), attract females (Charlton et al., 2007), and enhance
female fertility (McComb, 1987).
One of the most important features of social behavior is that it is not neces-
sarily “social” in the positive sense of involving an amicable interaction or
being directed toward some mutually beneficial end. Indeed, social organisms
are often fiercely competitive and aggressive—sometimes toward the same
258 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
individuals with whom they are highly cooperative under different circum-
stances. As one notable example, female acorn woodpeckers (Melanerpes formi-
civorus), a group-living bird found in the western United States, Mexico, and
Central America, nest communally (Koenig et al., 1995b). Two, and rarely
three, related females, usually sisters or a mother and daughter, lay eggs in
the same nest cavity. Even though they are relatives, females compete with
one another to lay their own eggs in the communal nest by removing and sub-
sequently eating their cobreeders’ eggs prior to laying their own eggs (Koenig
et al., 1995a), a process resulting in each female contributing equally to the
final clutch (Haydock & Koenig, 2002). After all birds have commenced lay-
ing, however, overt competition ends and is replaced by cooperative sharing of
incubation, brooding, and feeding of nestlings.
Social behavior has evolved to enhance an individual’s ability to garner re-
sources and form the alliances that help it survive and increase the number of
gene copies it places in future generations, whether doing so involves cooperating
with others or fighting against them. As a result, animal societies frequently
involve a delicate balance between cooperative and competitive behaviors, poten-
tially switching from one to the other depending on the ever-changing costs and
benefits of collaborative compared to competitive behaviors.
it. Several examples of the confusion that can arise when mixing levels of
analysis by attempting to address evolutionary questions at an inappropriate
explanatory level are described by Sherman (1988), while a discussion of
how levels can complement each other is provided by MacDougall-
Shackelton (2011).
recognize queens and regulate their numbers—a social polymorphism that has
been key to the explosive range expansion of this species (Krieger & Ross,
2002).
Even more dramatic genetic effects on social behavior have been identified
in the social amoeba (Dictyostelium discoideum), which grows solitarily while
feeding but when starved cooperatively forms a functionally multicellular
“slug” consisting of dead stalk cells and viable spores. A genome-wide screen
detected mutations in over 100 genes that facultatively produced cheaters—
cells that disproportionately attempt to differentiate into spores rather than
the stalk during aggregation when in competition with other genotypes—
but not when clonal (Santorelli et al., 2008). Such behavioral genetics studies
demonstrate the complexities of genetic influences on social behavior and are
part of a growing field with significant potential for uncovering new informa-
tion on the relative importance of nature and nurture to behavioral develop-
ment and social behavior (Robinson et al., 2008).
A classic debate in behavioral circles is whether genetic predisposition or the
environment is more important to the development of social behavior. As we
hope is clear from the above discussion, brief as it is, this “nature-nurture”
debate, stretching back decades, has been resolved: both are invariably impor-
tant, and the interesting questions generally focus on how nature and nurture
interact (Rutter, 2006).
Vocal Learning
Environmental influences on behavior include factors like nutrition, hor-
mones, an animal’s experience of the outside world, and the social context in
which it lives. The development of bird song provides key examples of several
of these. Songbirds (order Passeriformes), in contrast to all but a handful of
other groups that include cetaceans, bats, humans, and two other avian
orders—parrots and hummingbirds—learn their vocal signals without having
to hear model signalers (Beecher & Brenowitz, 2005). This feat of learning
is accomplished by the presence of two main neural pathways in the songbird
brain. The first is a motor pathway involved in song production, and the sec-
ond is a pathway in the anterior forebrain, often referred to as a template, that
is involved in song learning and recognition. In some species, learning is
restricted to the first year of life. In others, learning is open-ended and contin-
ues long after the first year. The experience of hearing and practicing a song
provides individuals with the necessary link between the auditory and song
systems required to sing properly as adults.
LET ’ S GET TOGETHER : THE EVOLUTION OF SOCIAL BEHAVIOR 263
of their songs, but field studies show that learning also continues through the
first year by storing copies of older neighbors’ songs in a region of the brain
called the forebrain song nuclei. A young song sparrow occupying a territory
learns the songs of several of its neighbors, being more likely to learn song types
that are shared among two or more neighbors. The end result is that each song
sparrow holds roughly half its song types in common with neighbors, particularly
older males that have been present longer. The adaptive function of such song-
sharing behavior may be that it facilitates the rapid detection of intruders
(Beecher et al., 1997). One recent study, for example, found that neighboring
song sparrows sharing fewer songs were more aggressive with one another than
those sharing more songs (Wilson & Vehrencamp, 2001).
Kin Recognition
Another good example of the importance of proximate mechanisms to
social behavior is the study of recognition systems. Mechanisms of recognition
are essential for individuals to discriminate members of their own social group,
choose a mate of the appropriate sex, avoid incest, locate their parents, care for
the right offspring, and engage in nepotism—the preferential treatment of kin.
Early work in this area, pioneered by the Austrian zoologist Konrad Lorenz,
demonstrated how precocial birds such as geese imprint on their mothers
shortly after hatching (Lorenz, 1935; Hess, 1964).
A particularly well-studied area of recognition systems focuses on how
parents recognize their offspring. Such offspring recognition probably involves
odor in most insects and mammals. Adult birds, however, often use location of
the nest as the cue to recognizing their offspring and fail to discriminate
against the nestlings of other pairs that are artificially fostered into their nests.
Presumably the failure to evolve recognition in this context is due to the fact
that nestlings do not move around from one nest to another in the wild.
In species where the mixing of nestlings does occur, however, recognition
can be remarkably precise. In Mexican free-tailed bats (Tadarida brasiliensis),
for example, mothers exhibit spatial memory and return to within a short dis-
tance of where they last left their pups. Once in the vicinity, they are capable
of using both scent and vocalizations to locate their offspring among thou-
sands huddled in a small area of cave ceiling (Gustin & McCracken, 1987;
Balcombe, 1990). In penguin colonies, where there can also be thousands of
young huddled in crèches, offspring use vocals cues to recognize their parents.
Such cues are based on pitch alone in species that build nests, such as Adélie
penguins (Pygoscelis adeliae) and gentoo penguins (P. papua), but involve more
sophisticated acoustic cues including the frequency-modulated shape of calls
LET ’ S GET TOGETHER : THE EVOLUTION OF SOCIAL BEHAVIOR 265
Penn, 2000). MHC genes have been implicated in determining odor and
mating preferences in house mice (Mus musculus) and humans. In both cases,
sexual selection appears to be involved, with individuals tending to prefer
MHC-dissimilar mates (Potts et al., 1991; Wedekind & Penn, 2000; Jacob
et al., 2002).
“client” fish they attend, which involves complex indirect reciprocity (reci-
procity by individuals other than those originally helped) by which clients
eavesdrop on the cleaning behavior of cleaner fish and subsequently prefer to
spend more time with cleaners that engage in cooperative rather than unco-
operative cleaning (Bshary & Grutter, 2006). The possibility remains that
such forms of complex reciprocity, which are not easy to detect, may be more
common than currently recognized.
Considerable recent work has involved investigating the evolution of altru-
ism among unrelated individuals in humans, typically by using “public goods”
games in which subjects, usually university students, voluntarily choose a fraction
of their “private” goods—money or a money proxy—to add to a public pot that
is subsequently multiplied by some factor greater than one but less than the
number of players and then divided up among all participants. Although the
group’s total payoff is maximized when all players contribute all their money to
the public pot, the optimal choice for individual players is always to contribute
nothing. Thus, contributors are considered altruistic cooperators whereas non-
contributors are considered defectors or noncooperators.
The typical result of such games is that individuals initially cooperate and
contribute some fraction of their money to the public pot. Because partici-
pants are unrelated and often neither know each other nor are likely to interact
in the future, neither kin selection nor reciprocity are involved. In the absence
of some additional mechanism, however, the extent of cooperation invariably
declines rapidly to nearly zero when interactions are repeated and the game
is played iteratively.
One mechanism that potentially maintains altruistic behavior is altruistic
punishment, in which individuals are given a means to punish noncooperators
at a cost to themselves (Fehr & Gächter, 2002). Altruism can also be main-
tained by the advantages of maintaining a good reputation, a behavior predi-
cated on indirect reciprocity such as was observed in the cleaner fish example
discusssed above. Public goods games that incorporate the ability for players
to see the history of other players and act on that knowledge—thus allowing
for indirect rewarding of cooperators—result in a high level of cooperation
compared to games not incorporating such information (Milinski et al.,
2002). The evolution of cooperation by indirect reciprocity can be a potent
evolutionary force leading to reputation building, morality judgement, and
complex social interactions (Nowak & Sigmund, 2005).
Selfish behavior, when one individual benefits at the expense of another, is,
perhaps unsurprisingly, not difficult to find. In birds, for example, it is fairly
common, although often difficult to observe, for females to lay eggs in nests
other than their own, thereby parasitizing the parental care of others. Such
268 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
during cold or inclement weather. In any case, once animals are aggregated,
there will inevitably be selection to evolve traits that will better exploit the
potential advantages of group living, including mechanisms allowing individ-
uals to better communicate, cooperate, and recognize each other as individuals
and as kin in ways that promote their inclusive fitness through increased survi-
vorship and reproductive success. For example, aggregated nymphs of the sub-
social treehopper Umbonia crassicornis produce vibrational signals in
synchronized bursts in response to simulated predator approach. These signals
not only initiate a wave of signaling by other individuals within the aggrega-
tion but instigate defensive behavior on the part of their mother (Cocroft,
1999). In Publilia concava, another species of treehopper, adults live in mutu-
alisms with ants by providing them with honeydew in return for protection
against predators. These treehoppers produce vibrational alarm signals follow-
ing encounters with the predatory ladybird beetle Harmonia axyridis that
increase the ants’ activity, thereby increasing their likelihood of discovering
the predator and the effectiveness of their predator protection (Morales
et al., 2008). Another classic example of a finely tuned communication system
that evolved in the context of group living is that of the honey bee, a highly
eusocial species in which workers returning to the hive perform elaborate
“dances” that increase foraging efficiency by communicating to hive-mates
the direction and distance of high-quality foraging sites (von Frisch, 1967;
Seeley, 1995).
Given these complexities, a fruitful way to address the evolution of sociality
in any particular case is to determine the costs and benefits of aggregating with
others. A good example of a species in which many of these costs and benefits
have been studied and identified is the cliff swallow (Petrochelidon pyrrhonota),
a small, migratory passerine that breeds in colonies of up to several thousand
pairs in western North America, primarily underneath overhanging rock
ledges, on the sides of cliffs, and (increasingly) on artificial structures such as
bridges (Brown & Brown, 1996).
Costs associated with colonial nesting in this species include increased sus-
ceptibility to ectoparasites, including both ticks and flies; increased loss of eggs
due to disturbance by conspecifics; increased probability of losing paternity
due to extrapair copulations; increased incidence of conspecific brood parasit-
ism; increased incidence of food stealing among conspecifics (kleptoparasi-
tism); greater attraction of predators; and increased travel distance to
foraging areas. Countering these are several benefits, including increased vigi-
lance and detection of predators resulting in greater annual survivorship;
greater opportunity for conspecific brood parasitism; increased probability of
gaining paternity due to extrapair copulations; and possibly the most
270 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
significant benefit, that of birds unsuccessful at foraging actively seeking out and
subsequently following other birds breeding nearby in the colony whose foraging
efforts have been successful, a trait that confers considerable benefits given the
highly unpredictable and variable insect food resources on which cliff swallows
depend. Note that behaviors are in some cases simultaneously a cost for some
individuals but a benefit to others. For example, the incidence of extra-pair mat-
ings, which are more frequent in larger colonies, are a benefit for the males that
succeed in obtaining them and a cost to the cuckolded males. Similarly, conspe-
cific brood parasitism is beneficial to the females that lay the eggs but a cost to the
pair of birds that ends up raising a nestling that is not theirs.
Support for the hypothesis that a colony can act as an information center
(Ward & Zahavi, 1973) has been found not only in cliff swallows but in
osprey (Pandion haliaetus) (Greene, 1987), evening bats (Nycticeius humeralis)
(Wilkinson, 1992), and colonial seabirds (Weimerskirch et al., 2010). More gen-
erally, the information center hypothesis is an example of animals taking advan-
tage of public information—social or nonsocial information that is accessible to
others—for their own benefit. Studies suggest that the use of such public infor-
mation is potentially widespread, yielding important information used by ani-
mals to inform the choices they make in foraging, breeding habitat selection,
avoiding predators, mate choice, and the transmission of cultural traits (Danchin
et al., 2004). For example, in the collared flycatcher (Ficedula albicollis), birds
monitor the current reproductive success of conspecifics using such public infor-
mation to assess local habitat quality and to choose their own subsequent breed-
ing site when they return to an area in a subsequent year (Doligez et al., 2002).
The costs and benefits of group living vary from individual to individual
depending on a variety of factors including their age, sex, and status, factors
that are often conveniently summarized by the concept of dominance, a key
way in which individuals within groups are unequal. As dominant individuals
monopolize a larger fraction of a group’s resources, group living becomes less
beneficial for subordinate individuals in the same group, which then become
more likely to leave and try to live on their own. In order for sociality to be
maintained in a population, subordinates must gain more from remaining in
the group and being social than from leaving the group and trying to repro-
duce on their own. In the case of the cliff swallows, the delicate balance
between these alternatives results in wide variation in group sizes ranging from
solitary nesting to nesting in colonies of several thousand pairs.
Alarm calls and other complex signaling behavior within aggregations can
also reduce the likelihood of predation. Such signaling may coordinate a
group’s escape from danger, confuse a predator, and prompt other nearby
individuals to seek protected sites or shelter. Alarm calls may convey informa-
tion about the type of predator and lead to the appropriate evasive behavior.
For example, vervet monkeys (Chlorocebus pygerythrus) give short, tonal alarm
calls in response to leopards (Panthera pardus); low-pitched, staccato grunts in
response to martial eagles (Polemaetus bellicosus); and high-pitched, chatter-
like calls in response to python snakes (Python sebae), prompting other mon-
keys nearby to run into trees for leopards, look up for eagles, and look down
for snakes (Seyfarth et al., 1980). Alarm calls might even provide information
regarding an individual predator’s identity and habits, although this has yet to
be demonstrated.
Alarm calling is often considered a good example of an altruistic behavior
because it appears to benefit others at some cost to the calling individual. Such
calls provide potentially valuable information to others but may endanger the
caller by attracting predators, although the evidence for the latter is equivocal,
possibly because callers are in some cases simultaneously serving as a pursuit-
deterrence signal, communicating to the predators their ability to evade cap-
ture (Blumstein, 2007).
An example of a species whose alarm-calling behavior has been extensively
studied is Belding’s ground squirrel. Individuals call more frequently when
close relatives, including noncollateral kin, are nearby, thus suggesting that
alarm calling has evolved at least in part due to kin selection—specifically
the indirect fitness benefits of aiding relatives (Sherman, 1977). Similar results
have been reported for a variety of other rodents, including several other
ground squirrels, the chipmunk (Eutamias sonomae), and both black-tailed
prairie dogs (Cynomys ludovicianus) and Gunnison’s prairie dogs (C. gunnisoni)
(Blumstein, 2007). Alarm calls are given in other contexts besides those likely
to entail kin selection, however. For example, those given by birds in mixed-
species flocks—common in both birds and monkeys—in some cases appear
to convey information regarding the proximity of a predator (Terborgh,
1990; Sharpe et al., 2010), while in others they may be used to selfishly dis-
tract flockmates and increase the caller’s foraging efficiency (Munn, 1986).
Aggregations have the potential to augment and bolster signaling systems.
This is particularly true in aposematic species that advertise their defenses to
potential predators (Orians & Janzen, 1974). There are several potential rea-
sons for this, including proportionately lower detectability, faster learning of
the aposematic signal by predators, and increased effectiveness of the apo-
sematic signal (Gamberale & Tullberg, 1998; Riipi et al., 2001). Groups of
LET ’ S GET TOGETHER : THE EVOLUTION OF SOCIAL BEHAVIOR 273
animals may also confuse predators by looking larger than they actually are or
by moving apart in unpredictable ways (Krakauer, 1995), actions that may
cause a predator to hesitate just long enough to permit the prey’s escape.
Grouping may also serve less direct functions than reducing predation risk.
For example, the remarkable shift of the desert locust (Schistocerca gregaria) of
sub-Saharan Africa from its cryptic solitary phase to its notorious gregarious
phase, during which it can form huge swarms of individuals moving cohesively
in search of food covering as much as 200 km2, has been suggested to be a
behavioral strategy to reduce predation risk by mobile predators that would
otherwise be able to profitably forage in adjacent patches within which locust
densities are relatively high (Reynolds et al., 2009).
In many cases the aggregation of one sex provides opportunities for the
other. For example, in species where females aggregate due to the clumping
of food or nest sites, males are likely to aggregate at these sites as well because
they are the most efficient places to find females with which to mate. In still
others, males and females aggregate in both space and time, such as with the
explosive breeding assemblages of many frogs and toads (Wells, 1977).
Social behavior is involved in social dominance and the maintenance of ter-
ritories, regardless of whether dominance status or territories are held by indi-
viduals or by groups. Species defend territories when they are economically
defendable, meaning that the benefits of the behaviors associated with having
exclusive access to the area outweigh the costs of maintaining and defending it
from conspecifics (Emlen & Oring, 1977). In the territorial systems of many
species, overt defense in the form of direct aggressive behavior against intrud-
ers has given way to indirect defense in the form of vocalizations and scent
marking.
natal groups as nonbreeding helpers, often for several years, during which time
they assist in raising younger siblings rather than breeding on their own (Brown,
1987). Although in a few of these cooperative breeders young may gain sufficient
intrinsic or social benefits by remaining at home to compensate for the reproduc-
tion they forgo, in the majority of cases this is not the case. Rather, they forgo
breeding not because it is an inferior fitness option but because they are unable
to acquire a suitable territory or mate—circumstances referred to as the “ecologi-
cal constraints” hypothesis (Koenig, 1981; Emlen, 1991).
A good example is the Florida scrub-jay (Aphelocoma coerulescens), where
long-term demographic studies have shown that helpers gain an estimated
0.14 offspring equivalents of fitness by helping compared to 0.62 offspring
equivalents gained by first-time breeders in the population (Woolfenden &
Fitzpatrick, 1984). Similar conclusions have been reached by experimental
studies in red-cockaded woodpeckers (Picoides borealis) and Seychelles war-
blers (Acrocephalus sechellensis). In the former, helpers immediately give up
their helper status and occupy artificial nest cavities when they are provided
(Walters et al., 1992), while in the latter birds transplanted to an uninhabited
island forgo group living and breed as pairs until the population saturates
the available high-quality territories (Komdeur, 1992). In all these cases, the
evidence indicates that ecological constraints (or “resource access” benefits;
S.-F. Shen and S. Emlen, personal communication), rather than social benefits
derived from group living, prompt young to remain at home. Once home,
young serve as helpers in order to “make the best of a bad job,” garnering what
inclusive benefits they can while waiting for a territory or breeding vacancy
that will allow them to reproduce (Koenig et al., 1992).
A difficulty in assessing the importance of access to a limited resource is that
once aggregations form, there will inevitably be selection to take advantage of
group living. Thus, various advantages to sociality may emerge and eventually
come to outweigh the disadvantages of grouping even though the original impe-
tus for aggregations was primarily or exclusively extrinsic constraints rather than
social benefits (Koenig et al., 1992). Further, formation of cooperative territorial
groups can lead to supersaturation of habitat with more birds than just one pair
per territory; this can impose a new selective pressure favoring group living by
increasing the constraints on outside options (Dickinson & Hatchwell, 2004).
be sexual selection, with females preferring to mate with older males in the
population regardless of their social mate (Double & Cockburn, 2000).
We have already mentioned acorn woodpeckers, which are a cooperatively
polygynandrous species in which cooperation and competition—the latter
most dramatically in the form of egg destruction by joint-nesting females—
are both regular features of their social behavior. Offspring in this species
typically remain as nonbreeding helpers assisting their parents in raising sub-
sequent young. In contrast to fairy-wrens there is no extra-group mating, nor
do unrelated individuals join established groups. Groups thus consist entirely
of closely related males and equally closely related females.
Of particular interest is the question of what determines reproductive roles
within groups? The two main possibilities are within-sex reproductive competi-
tion—that young birds are reproductively suppressed by their older, dominant
parents—and incest avoidance—that young birds do not breed because they
are closely related to the breeders of the opposite sex. Long-term demographic
and genetic studies have confirmed that when reproductive vacancies arise, they
are filled by unrelated birds from elsewhere rather than by subordinates of the
same sex, after which subordinates of the opposite sex are able to inherit and
cobreed along with their older, presumably dominant parents (Koenig et al.,
1998; Haydock et al., 2001). Thus incest avoidance, rather than reproductive
competition, is the primary determinant of reproductive roles in this species.
Incest avoidance is so strong that the population loses an estimated 9 to 12 per-
cent in reproductive potential due to this factor alone (Koenig et al., 1999). Incest
avoidance is similarly an important factor influencing reproductive roles in the
vast majority of, if not all, highly social vertebrates (Koenig & Haydock, 2004).
Kalahari meerkats (Suricata suricatta) provide a good example of a co-
operatively breeding mammal. Breeders of both sexes live in cooperative
groups with dominants monopolizing most of the reproduction (Hodge
et al., 2008; Spong et al., 2008). Group augmentation, a positive group-size
effect on reproduction, arises because helpers enhance pup growth and sur-
vival by babysitting, which is only done by subordinates and sometimes
involves remaining in the burrow without food for extended periods of time
(Clutton-Brock et al., 2001). There is a measurable cost of helping in terms
of weight loss, but helpers of both sexes benefit from living in the group with
fitness gains through both direct reproduction and the raising of nondescend-
ant kin (Russell et al., 2007). Although reproductive skew is relatively great,
female subordinates sometimes succeed in becoming pregnant, after which
they compete for reproductive success within the group through infanticide
(Kutsukake & Clutton-Brock, 2008). Meanwhile, subordinate males foray
to other groups where they compete to sire extra-group young (Young et al.,
280 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Eusociality
Eusociality, a social organization in which young are cared for cooperatively,
generations overlap, and the society is segregated into distinct castes that provide
different services to the colony, is often considered the pinnacle of social evolu-
tion. Eusociality is found in several orders of insects, including bees and wasps
(order Hymenoptera), termites (order Isoptera), gall-making aphids (order
Hemiptera), and thrips (order Thysanoptera); Synalpheus regalis, a tropical reef-
dwelling marine shrimp dependent on sponges for survival (Duffy, 1996); and
two species of vertebrates, both African mole-rats in the family Bathyergidae,
the naked mole-rat (Heterocephalus glaber) and the Damaraland mole-rat (Crypt-
omys damarensis) (Jarvis & Bennett, 1993; Bennett & Faulkes, 2000). Reproduc-
tive skew in eusocial species is typically very high—often only a single individual
(the “queen”) reproduces out of a colony of thousands or tens of thousands.
They also exhibit extreme task specialization, which makes colonies potentially
very efficient at gathering resources. Workers may never reproduce during their
entire lives but nonetheless gain inclusive fitness benefits by aiding the reproduc-
tion of the queen, who is typically their mother. With a high proportion of the
population forgoing reproduction, often permanently, the evolution of altruism
in eusocial species is a topic of particular interest and played a key role in the
development of kin-selection theory (Hamilton, 1964, 1972).
In diploid species, including most vertebrates, sisters share half their genes
in common, and individuals who help parents produce a benefit tantamount
to the fitness they would achieve by producing an offspring of their own.
Eusocial Hymenoptera, however, are haplodiploid, a system in which unfer-
tilized (haploid) eggs become males and fertilized (diploid) eggs become
females. As a result, a group of sisters with a single mother and father, such
as may make up the workers of an ant colony or a beehive, share one-quarter
of their genes through their mothers and one-half their genes through their
father, as all sperm from a single haploid male are genetically identical. The
result is that such sisters share 75 percent of their genes through common
ancestry, whereas mothers share only 50 percent of their genes with their
own daughters. Female workers potentially transmit more copies of their genes
by helping their mother produce sisters than by producing their own daugh-
ters and sons, thus providing a potential genetic basis for the evolution of
eusociality.
LET ’ S GET TOGETHER : THE EVOLUTION OF SOCIAL BEHAVIOR 281
As appealing as this hypothesis may be, subsequent study has indicated that
haploidiploidy is likely to be a predisposing, rather than a causal, factor in the
evolution of eusociality. Hymenoptera queens often mate with multiple males,
and thus sperm is provided by more than one source, diluting the haplodiploidy
effect on sister relatedness (Hughes et al., 2008b). In addition, multiple queens
may found wasp colonies, further diluting the average genetic relatedness among
workers. It is also relevant that many eusocial species are not haplodiploid,
including not only the two mole-rats but all termites (order Isoptera).
As a result of these and other considerations, workers in eusocial colonies are
thought to have originally given up reproduction due to ecological constraints on
independent breeding, the latter being due to high predation rates, a shortage of
nest sites, and a short breeding season (Brockmann, 1997). As in the case of co-
operatively breeding birds, opportunities to survive and reproduce away from the
colony are limited, favoring individuals that stay home. If females remain in their
natal groups, within-colony relatedness will be high and kin selection will be a
potentially important evolutionary force that favors cooperation.
There remains, however, considerable controversy regarding the evolution
of eusociality, particularly in terms of the role of kin selection (Nowak et al.,
2010). Future phylogenetic work aimed at determining the evolutionary ori-
gins of eusociality are likely to be particularly important in resolving this issue.
A recent study of female mating frequencies in eusocial hymenoptera, for
example, indicated that monogamy is ancestral in all independent eusocial lin-
eages, supporting the hypothesis that kin selection and inclusive fitness has
been key to the evolution of eusociality in this group (Hughes et al., 2008a).
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We wish to thank the National Science Foundation for support of our
research on avian social behavior. Portions of the chapter have been adapted
from Walter D. Koenig and Janis L. Dickinson, Encyclopædia Britannica
Online, s. v. “social behaviour, animal,” accessed February 28, 2013, http://
www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/550897/social-behaviour-animal.
Heard, D. C. (1992). The effect of wolf predation and snow cover on musk-ox group
size. American Naturalist, 139, 190–204.
Heinze, J. & B. Hölldobler. (1993). Fighting for a harem of queens: Physiology of
reproduction in Cardiocondyla male ants. Proceedings of the National Academy
of Sciences, USA, 90, 8412–8414.
Hess, E. H. (1964). Imprinting in birds. Science, 146, 1128–1139.
Hodge, S. J., A. Manica, T. P. Flower, & T. H. Clutton-Brock. (2008). Determi-
nants of reproductive success in dominant female meerkats. Journal of Animal
Ecology, 77, 92–102.
Höglund, J. & R. Alatalo. (1995). Leks. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Höglund, J., R. V. Alatalo, A. Lundberg, P. T. Rintamäki, & J. Lindell. (1999).
Microsatellite markers reveal the potential for kin selection on black grouse
leks. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 266, 813–816.
Holmes, W. G. & P. W. Sherman. (1982). The ontogeny of kin recognition in two
species of ground squirrels. American Zoologist, 22, 491–517.
Hrdy, S. B. (1974). Male-male competition and infanticide among the langurs (Pres-
bytis entellus) of Abu, Rajasthan. Folia Primatologica, 22, 19–58.
Hrdy, S. B. (2009). Mothers and Others. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press.
Hughes, W. O. H., B. P. Oldroyd, M. Beekman, & F. L. W. Ratnieks. (2008a).
Ancestral monogamy shows kin selection is key to the evolution of eusociality.
Science, 320, 1213–1216.
Hughes, W. O. H., F. L. W. Ratnieks, & B. P. Oldroyd. (2008b). Multiple pat-
ernity or multiple queens: Two routes to greater intracolonial genetic
diversity in the eusocial Hymenoptera. Journal of Evolutionary Biology, 21,
1090–1095.
Jacob, S., M. K. McClintock, B. Zelano, & C. Ober. (2002). Paternally inherited
HLA alleles are associated with women’s choice of male odor. Nature Genetics,
30, 175–179.
Jarvis, J. U. M. & N. C. Bennett. (1993). Eusociality has evolved independently in
two genera of bathyergid mole-rats—but occurs in no other subterranean
mammal. Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 33, 253–260.
Jensen, K. (2010). Punishment and spite, the dark side of cooperation. Proceedings of
the Royal Society of London, B, 365, 2635–2650.
Jetz, W. & D. R. Rubenstein. (2011). Environmental uncertainty and the global bio-
geography of cooperative breeding in birds. Current Biology, 21, 72–78.
Johnstone, R. A. (2000). Models of reproductive skew: A review and synthesis. Ethology,
106, 5–26.
Jouventin, P. & T. Aubin. (2002). Acoustic systems are adapted to breeding
ecologies: Individual recognition in nesting penguins. Animal Behaviour, 64,
747–757.
Just, J. (1988). Siphonoecetinae (Corophiidae) 6: A survey of phylogeny, distribution,
and biology. Crustaceana, 13, 193–208.
Keller, L. & H. K. Reeve. (1994). Partitioning of reproduction in animal societies.
Trends in Ecology and Evolution, 9, 98–102.
288 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Koenig, W. D. (1981). Reproductive success, group size, and the evolution of co-
operative breeding in the acorn woodpecker. American Naturalist, 117, 421–
443.
Koenig, W. D. & J. L. Dickinson (eds.). (2004). Ecology and Evolution of Cooperative
Breeding in Birds. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Koenig, W. D. & J. Haydock. (2004). Incest avoidance. In W. D. Koenig & J. L.
Dickinson (eds.), Ecology and Evolution of Cooperative Breeding in Birds (pp.
142–156). Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Koenig, W. D., J. Haydock, & M. T. Stanback. (1998). Reproductive roles in the co-
operatively breeding acorn woodpecker: Incest avoidance versus reproductive
competition. American Naturalist, 151, 243–255.
Koenig, W. D., R. L. Mumme, M. T. Stanback, & F. A. Pitelka. (1995a). Patterns
and consequences of egg destruction among joint-nesting acorn woodpeckers.
Animal Behaviour, 50, 607–621.
Koenig, W. D., F. A. Pitelka, W. J. Carmen, R. L. Mumme, & M. T. Stanback.
(1992). The evolution of delayed dipersal in cooperative breeders. Quarterly
Review of Biology, 67, 111–150.
Koenig, W. D., P. B. Stacey, M. T. Stanback, & R. L. Mumme. (1995b). Acorn
woodpecker (Melanerpes formicivorus). In A. Poole & F. Gill (eds.), The Birds
of North America, No. 194. Philadelphia: Academy of Natural Sciences; Wash-
ington, DC: American Ornithologists’ Union.
Koenig, W. D., M. T. Stanback, & J. Haydock. (1999). Demographic consequences
of incest avoidance in the cooperatively breeding acorn woodpecker. Animal
Behaviour, 57, 1287–1293.
Koenig, W. D., E. L. Walters, & J. Haydock. (2011). Variable helper effects, ecologi-
cal conditions, and the evolution of cooperative breeding in the acorn wood-
pecker. American Naturalist, 178, 145–158.
Komdeur, J. (1992). Importance of habitat saturation and territory quality for evolu-
tion of cooperative breeding in the Seychelles warbler. Nature, 358, 493–495.
Krakauer, A. H. (2005). Kin selection and cooperative courtship in wild turkeys.
Nature, 434, 69–72.
Krakauer, D. C. (1995). Groups confuse predators by exploiting perceptual bottle-
necks: A connectionist model of the confusion effect. Behavioral Ecology and
Sociobiology, 36, 421–429.
Krause, J. & G. D. Ruxton. (2002). Living in Groups. Oxford, UK: Oxford Univer-
sity Press.
Krieger, M. J. B. & K. G. Ross. (2002). Identification of a major gene regulating com-
plex social behavior. Science, 295, 328–332.
Kummer, H. (1968). Two variations in the social organization of baboons. In P. Jay
(ed.), Primates: Studies in Adaptation and Variability (pp. 293–312). New
York: Holt, Rinehart, & Winston.
Kutsukake, N. & T. H. Clutton-Brock. (2008). The number of subordinates moder-
ates intrasexual competition among males in cooperatively breeding meerkats.
Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 275, 209–216.
LET ’ S GET TOGETHER : THE EVOLUTION OF SOCIAL BEHAVIOR 289
Riipi, M., R. V. Alatalo, L. Lindström, & J. Mappes. (2001). Multiple benefits of gre-
gariousness cover detectability costs in aposematic aggregations. Nature, 413,
512–514.
Robinson, G. E., R. D. Fernald, & D. F. Clayton. (2008). Genes and social behavior.
Science, 322, 896–900.
Rohwer, S. (1986). Selection for adoption versus infanticide by replacement “mates”
in birds. Current Ornithology, 3, 353–395.
Rohwer, S., J. C. Herron, & M. Daly. (1999). Stepparental behavior as mating effort
in birds and other animals. Evolution and Human Behavior, 20, 367–390.
Rothstein, S. I. (1990). A model system for coevolution: Avian brood parasitism.
Annual Review of Ecology and Systematics, 21, 481–508.
Rowley, I., E. M. Russell, & M. G. Brooker. (1986). Inbreeding: Benefits may out-
weigh costs. Animal Behaviour, 34, 939–941.
Rubenstein, D. R. & I. J. Lovette. (2007). Temporal environmental variability
drives the evolution of cooperative breeding in birds. Current Biology,17,
1414–1419.
Russell, A. F., A. J. Young, G. Spong, N. R. Jordan, & T. H. Clutton-Brock. (2007).
Helpers increase the reproductive potential of offspring in cooperative meer-
kats. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 274, 513–520.
Russell, E. M. (1989). Co-operative breeding: A Gondwanan perspectic. Emu, 89,
61–62.
Rutter, M. (2006). Genes and Behavior: Nature-Nurture Interplay Explained. Oxford,
UK: Blackwell Publishing.
Santorelli, L. A., C. R. L. Thompson, E. Villegas, J. Svetz, C. Dinh, A. Parikh, et al.
(2008). Facultative cheater mutants reveal the genetic compleity of co-
operation in social amoebae. Nature, 451, 1107–1110.
Sapolsky, R. M. (1998). Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers. New York: W. H. Freeman and
Co.
Seeley, T. D. (1995). The Wisdom of the Hive: The Social Physiology of Honey Bee
Colonies. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press,
Seki, S., M. Kohda, G. Takamoto, K. Karino, Y. Nakashima, & T. Kuwamura.
(2009). Female defense polygyny in the territorial triggerfish Sufflamen chrysop-
terum. Journal of Ethology, 27. 215–220.
Seyfarth, R. M., D. L. Cheney, & P. Marler. (1980). Monkey responses to three dif-
ferent alarm calls: Evidence of predator classification and semantic communi-
cation. Science, 210, 801–803.
Sharp, S. P., A. McGowan, M. J. Wood, & B. J. Hatchwell. (2005). Learned kin rec-
ognition cues in a social bird. Nature, 434, 1127–1130.
Sharpe, L. L., A. S. Joustra, & M. I. Cherry. (2010). The presence of an avian co-
forager reduces vigilance in a cooperative mammal. Biology Letters, 6, 475–477.
Sherman, P. W. (1977). Nepotism and the evolution of alarm calls. Science, 197,
1246–1253.
Sherman, P. W. (1988). The levels of analysis. Animal Behaviour, 36, 616–619.
292 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Sherman, P. W., E. A. Lacey, H. K. Reeve, & L. Keller. (1995). The eusociality con-
tinuum. Behavioral Ecology, 6, 102–108.
Sherman, P. W., H. K. Reeve, & D. W. Pfennig. (1997). Recognition systems. In
J. R. Krebs & N. B. Davies (eds.), Behavioural Ecology (pp. 69–96). Oxford,
UK: Blackwell.
Shorey, L., S. Piertney, J. Stone, & J. Höglund. (2000). Fine-scale genetic structuring
on Manacus manacus leks. Nature, 408, 352–353.
Spong, G. F., S. J. Hodge, A. J. Young, & T. H. Clutton-Brock. (2008). Factors
affecting the reproductive success of dominant male meerkats. Molecular
Ecology, 17, 2287–2299.
Stacey, P. B. & W. D. Koenig. (1990). Cooperative Breeding in Birds: Long-term
Studies of Ecology and Behavior. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Swynnerton, C. F. M. (1915). Mixed bird parties. Ibis, 3, 346–354.
Tallamy, D. W. (2005). Egg dumping in insects. Annual Review of Entomology, 50,
347–370.
Tener, J. S. (1965). Muskoxen. Ottawa, Canada: Queen’s Printer.
Terborgh, J. (1990). Mixed flocks and polyspecific associations: Costs and benefits
of mixed groups to birds and monkeys. American Journal of Primatology, 21,
87–100.
Thornhill, T. & J. Alcock. (1983). The Evolution of Insect Mating Systems. Cambridge,
MA: Harvard University Press.
Tinbergen, N. (1963). On aims and methods of ethology. Zietschrift für Tierpsycholo-
gie, 20, 410–433.
Trivers, R. L. (1971). The evolution of reciprocal altruism. Quarterly Review of Biol-
ogy, 46, 35–57.
von Frisch, K. (1967). The Dance Language and Orientation of Bees. Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press.
Wade, J. & A. P. Arnold. (1996). Functional testicular tissue does not masculinize
development of the zebra finch song system. Proceedings of the National
Academy of Sciences, USA, 93, 5264–5268.
Wade, J. & A. P. Arnold. (2004). Sexual differentiation of the zebra finch song
system. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences, 1016, 540–559.
Walters, J. R., C. K. Copeyon, & J. H. Carter III. (1992). Test of the ecological basis
of cooperative breeding in red-cockaded woodpeckers. Auk, 109, 90–97.
Ward, P. & A. Zahavi. (1973). The importance of certain assemblages of birds as
“information-centres” for food-finding. Ibis, 115, 517–534.
Webster, M. S. (1994). Female-defence polygyny in a neotropical bird, the Monte-
zuma oropendola. Animal Behaviour, 48, 779–794.
Wedekind, C. & D. Penn. (2000). MHC genes, body odours, and odour preferences.
Nephrology Dialysis Transplantation, 15, 1269–1271.
Weimerskirch, H., S. Bertrand, J. Silva, J. C. Marques, & E. Goya. (2010). Use of
social information in seabirds: Compass rafts indicate the heading of food
patches. PLoS One, 5, e9928. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0009928.
LET ’ S GET TOGETHER : THE EVOLUTION OF SOCIAL BEHAVIOR 293
INTRODUCTION
Acts of aggression are ubiquitous among animals and play a key role in survival
and reproduction. Animals often use aggressive behaviors to defend or usurp a re-
source (Stamps & Krishnan, 1997; Garcia & Arroyo, 2002), to compete for
mates (Bartoš, 1986; Hagelin, 2002), to fend off predators (Andersson et al.,
1980; Redondo & Carranza, 1989), and during foraging (Riechert, 1993). How-
ever, even though aggression is important in a number of distinct contexts, it is
also a costly behavior. These costs range from direct costs in terms of energy
expenditure and injury during aggressive conflicts to more subtle costs of dis-
rupting social bonds in communally living species. A balance between costs and
benefits has traditionally been the main explanation for variation in aggression
observed within and among individuals as well as between populations and spe-
cies; however, recent work on animal personalities has introduced the possibility
that constraints may also be important to understanding this variation.
Aggression, by definition, is a social (or antisocial) behavior in that it only
occurs in the context of two or more interacting individuals. At the most basic
level, aggression is used to either subdue another individual (as during preda-
tion or aggressive courtship) or to repel another individual (as during
296 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
(Dolomedes triton), females that are most aggressive in a foraging context are
also most aggressive in a mating context, and aggressive females are likely to
cannibalize prospective mates before copulating with them to the extent that
some females attack every single male and thus fail to mate and produce off-
spring (Arnqvist & Henriksson, 1997; Johnson & Sih, 2005). In another
example, in many species of birds, the most aggressive males invest the least
in parental care, and this often results in lower reproductive success (e.g., Tut-
tle, 2003; Duckworth, 2006a; see Ketterson & Nolan, 1994, for review).
These costs to inflexible expression of aggression raise the question of why
individuals that behave aggressively in one context cannot modify their overall
behavioral strategy to behave less aggressively in a different context.
Variation in aggressiveness has been one of the most commonly described axes
of personality variation. Consistent differences in aggression have been docu-
mented in insects, spiders, fish, birds, and mammals. Such stability in behavior
is usually detected as significant repeatability either over time or in distinct func-
tional contexts (e.g., aggression toward a rival male versus aggression towards a
predator). A meta-analysis of studies that compared repeatability of 13 different
classes of behavior showed that aggressive behavior was one of most highly repeat-
able (Bell et al., 2009). Yet there is a rich history of work on aggression showing
that it is often context dependent and strongly influenced by environmental con-
ditions. For example, increases in group size and experimental decreases of food
resources both independently increase the number of aggressive interactions in
red deer (Cervus elaphus) stags (Appleby, 1980; Bartoš, 1986). Moreover, many
studies of territorial animals show that individuals are more aggressive toward
strangers than toward neighbors (Jaeger, 1981; Temeles, 1994), demonstrating
that individuals often modulate aggressiveness depending on social context. Even
abiotic conditions have been shown to influence aggressiveness—in coral reef fish
(Pomacentrus spp.) aggressiveness increased with increases in water temperature
(Biro et al., 2010). How can we reconcile such seeming flexibility of aggression with
the growing body of work that shows aggression to be highly repeatable within individ-
uals? The key to resolving this puzzle is to recognize that most studies investigating
the effects of environmental variation on aggression often ignore individual varia-
tion and focus instead on mean population-level changes. Moreover, high repeat-
ability does not preclude the possibility that individuals modify their behavior in
different situations but simply means that the rank order of aggressiveness of a
group of individuals is consistent over time or across different contexts such that,
even if all individuals decrease their aggressive response in a particular context, the
most aggressive individuals in one context are still the most aggressive in the other
(see Figure 10.1 for an example).
Figure 10.1. Examples of consistent individual differences in a highly plastic behavior.
Coral reef fish show plasticity in activity (top graph), aggression (middle graph), and
latency (bottom graph) in relation to temperature. Rank order of individuals is con-
stant across temperatures for aggression and latency but not for activity levels. (Figure
from Biro et al., 2010. Used by permission of the Royal Society.)
ECOLOGICAL AND EVOLUTIONARY FEEDBACKS 299
Figure 10.2. Serotonin (5-HT) pathways that underlie variation in aggression are
remarkably conserved across disparate taxa. (a) One pathway from genes to aggres-
sion involves key enzymes involved in synthesis (TPH2), degredation (MAO A), and
transport (SERT) of serotonin. (b) A shorter pathway involves changes in 5-HT
receptors. (Figure from Popova, 2006. Used by permission of John Wiley and Sons.)
ECOLOGICAL AND EVOLUTIONARY FEEDBACKS 301
Figure 10.3. Divergent selection lines. Artificial selection experiments are a tool fre-
quently used by evolutionary biologists to gain insight into the genetics of trait
variation. These experiments start with a group of individuals that vary in the trait of
interest. “High” and “low” selection lines are created from this initial group by
selecting only individuals that display either the highest or lowest expression of the
focal trait to reproduce (e.g., only individuals in the top or bottom 25 percent of trait
values are selected for breeding). These experiments can provide insight into many
aspects of the genetics of a trait, including the symmetry of response to upward and
downward selection (Pitnick & Miller, 2000) and whether there are correlated
responses in other traits to selection on the focal trait (Schwarzkopf et al., 1999).
Correlated responses are commonly caused by pleiotropy, in which one gene affects
more than one trait. Thus, artificial selection experiments can shed light on how traits
are linked. In a study by Francis (1984), an artificial selection experiment was carried
out in paradise fish (Macropodus opercularis) for five generations. Both high and low
lines for dominance were created where only individuals ranking in the top and bot-
tom ~20 percent in dominance status were selected to breed. The results showed a
significant response to selection in the downward but not the upward selected lines
(top graph). However, when the same selection lines were tested for aggression by
exposing them to an intruder fish (either another male separated by a glass partition or
a mirror), they showed no difference in aggression from one another (bottom graph).
This experiment showed that divergence in the dominance scores of the two lines was
not accompanied by any changes in aggressiveness, showing that these traits are not
linked in this species. (Figures adapted from Francis, 1984)
& Houck, 1983; Robertson, 1986; Johnstone & Norris, 1993; Duckworth,
2006a; Rosvall, 2011). In fact, one of the most consistent relationships
between aggression and other traits across a wide variety of species is a negative
correlation between aggression and parental care. For example, in many pass-
erine birds, males that show high levels of aggression often invest the least in
parental care (Ketterson & Nolan, 1994). Because, in these species, males
and females form strong pair bonds and both sexes contribute to offspring
care, this means that highly aggressive males often have lower reproductive
success (e.g., Duckworth, 2006a). In some of these species, variation in aggres-
sion is related to alternative male mating strategies within a population, where
aggressive males compensate for fitness costs of low parental care by actively
pursuing mating opportunities outside the pair bond, whereas other males
are nonaggressive and good fathers (Ketterson & Nolan, 1994). Why aggres-
sion, mating behavior, and parental care are frequently linked is not clear.
It is known that all of these behaviors are influenced by circulating testoster-
one levels—testosterone is necessary for sperm production and hence mating,
frequently correlates with aggression, and is antagonistic to the expression of
parental behavior. These links have led to the idea that negative correlations
between aggression and parental care are primarily due to the joint effects of
testosterone. However, whether aggression and parental behavior are linked
directly or whether they are instead only correlated through testosterone is still
an open question. If the latter, then in species where testosterone and aggres-
sion are uncoupled, there should not be a trade-off between aggression and
parental behavior. Direct links between aggression and parental care could
occur if there is a fundamental neural trade-off where individuals “wired” to
be aggressive cannot also be parental, and vice versa. Finally, it is also possible
that there is a basic time or energy trade-off that links these two behaviors such
that aggressive individuals spend so much time fighting they do not have time
or energy left for offspring care.
Recent studies suggest that the relationship between aggression and
parental behavior may be more complex than originally thought and that the
antagonistic effects of testosterone on parental behavior may not always be
present (see Lynn, 2008, for review). For example, in western bluebirds,
aggressive personality differences are unrelated to natural variation in testoster-
one even though there is a negative relationship between aggression and male
parental care in this species (Duckworth, 2006a; Duckworth & Sockman
2012). Moreover, in California mice (Peromyscus californicus), testosterone is
actually required to maintain high levels of paternal behavior, paternal behav-
ior and aggression are positively correlated, and testosterone and aggression are
not related in a simple way (Trainor & Marler, 2001). Both castration and
308 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
and also more exploratory because they have to find patches on their own,
whereas shoaling individuals need to be more tolerant of neighbors and can
also rely on them to acquire foraging information, so they do not need to be
as explorative.
Such adaptive explanations for correlations between aggression and explor-
atory behavior still need to be tested, but trade-offs originating from differ-
ences in social strategy might be the key to understanding correlations
between personality traits as these correlations are often found in species where
there is wide variation in social strategy between individuals (Cote & Clobert,
2007; Bergmüller & Taborsky, 2010). Examples include freshwater fish,
where solitary individuals are both more explorative and aggressive than
social individuals (Ward et al., 2004); Myrmica ants, where there are
strong correlations between aggression, boldness, activity, and sociability
at the individual, caste, and colony levels (Chapman et al., 2011); the co-
operatively breeding cichlid (Neolamprologus pulcher), where an aggression-
boldness-explorativeness syndrome was linked to female helping behavior
(Schürch & Heg, 2010); and the socially polymorphic comb-footed spider
(Anelosimus studiosus), where social individuals were less aggressive, less active,
and less responsive to prey (Pruitt et al., 2008). Social conflict can select for
stable coexistence of different behavioral types, and this has led to the idea that
personality differences may evolve primarily in response to social environment
(Bergmüller & Taborsky, 2010). While this is an intriguing idea, the evidence
so far is only correlative, and the direction of causality between different per-
sonality axes is not clear. After all, differences in aggression between individ-
uals might be as likely to lead to differences in sociability as the reverse.
Correlations between Aggression and Other Traits: Ever-present, but Not Consistent
Two main themes emerge from a survey of correlations between aggression
and other traits: (1) such correlations are widespread across a diverse array of taxa
and (2) there are no consistent patterns across taxa in the specific traits that are
correlated with aggression. Aggression is closely linked to body size and domi-
nance in some species but not others. It frequently covaries with aspects of life
history investment, such as parental care, but not consistently across species.
Many species show strong correlations between aggression and other compo-
nents of personality variation, but the strength and presence of these correlations
vary across species and even across populations within a species.
Such diversity in the strength and direction of correlations has important
implications for understanding the evolution of distinct aggressive phenotypes.
First, it reinforces the importance of aggression in a wide variety of contexts
310 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
and life histories. Second, it suggests that the evolution of aggression is not con-
strained by correlations with other traits, as these correlations can break up and
be reformed in a relatively short time span (~10,000 years in the case of stickle-
back populations that differ in the expression of behavioral correlations; Dinge-
manse et al., 2007). Finally, it supports the notion that aggression, rather than
being an emergent property of other components of the phenotype, is a trait in
its own right. After all, if aggression was always consistently correlated with other
traits such as boldness or activity levels, this could indicate that these are not re-
ally separate traits at all but simply the distinct responses reflecting a common
underlying temperament or coping style. In the next two sections, I discuss
how individual, population, and species differences in aggression can influence
ecological and evolutionary processes and how ecological and evolutionary feed-
backs on aggression might provide the key to understanding both the diversity
and ubiquity of correlations between aggression and other traits.
much higher levels of intraspecific aggression, and coexist with a diverse com-
munity of ant species. These patterns suggest that changes in colony structure
and aggression in introduced populations have facilitated invasion success by
decreasing intraspecific competition and thus enabling them to outcompete
other species (Holway, 1999; Tsutsui et al., 2003). Finally, the invasive red-
eared slider (Trachemys scripta elegans) and endangered native Spanish terrapin
(Mauremys leprosa) in the Iberian Peninsula provide another example linking
aggression and invasiveness. Red-eared sliders are more aggressive than
Spanish terrapins and outcompete them during foraging, significantly restrict-
ing their access to food resources (Polo-Cavia et al., 2011).
Aggressive differences between species are not just linked to successful
invasions but have also been shown to be important in the dynamics of natural
range expansions and in determining species’ range limits (Peiman &
Robinson, 2010). Scott Pearson and Sievert Rowher (2000) found that com-
petitive superiority of Townsend’s warblers (Dendroica townsendi) over hermit
warblers (D. occidentalis) is causing a hybrid zone to move in these species,
thereby expanding Townsend’s warblers’ range at the expense of hermit war-
blers. They showed that this competitive difference between the species was
largely attributable to differences in aggression—Townsend’s warblers are
more aggressive than hermit warblers. Similarly, the recent range expansion
of the barred owl (Strix varia) at the expense of the threatened northern spot-
ted owl is at least partly due to its higher aggression (Van Lanen et al., 2011).
In bluebirds, competitive superiority of western bluebirds over mountain
bluebirds is largely due to the highly aggressive nature of western bluebirds
that colonize new populations (Duckworth, 2008). This competitive differ-
ence was most obvious during western bluebirds’ recent range expansion, in
which nest-box programs enabled them to rapidly recolonize areas in the
northwestern United States where they had previously gone extinct due to
the loss of natural nest cavities. The expansion of their range back to their his-
torical range limits was accompanied by the rapid displacement of lower-
elevation mountain bluebird populations (Duckworth & Badyaev, 2007).
The range expansion was a natural experiment that provided insight into the
competitive dynamics of these species—it showed that mountain bluebirds
are limited at the lower edge of their range by competition with western blue-
birds rather than by abiotic or other ecological factors.
Such competitive exclusion through direct aggressive interactions is a
common theme, especially in the context of species range limits across eleva-
tional gradients. In two tropical bird genera—Catharus thrushes and Henico-
rhina wrens—asymmetries in aggressiveness explained nonoverlapping ranges
across an elevational gradient in tropical forests (Jankowski et al., 2010).
314 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 10.4. Red foxes (Vulpes vulpes) fighting. Red foxes are more aggressive than arc-
tic foxes (Vulpes lagopus), and their competitive superiority may be at least partly
responsible for declining arctic fox populations in Scandinavia. (Alex Badyaev,
www.tenbestphotos.com)
ECOLOGICAL AND EVOLUTIONARY FEEDBACKS 315
competitors from areas of abundant resources but may come at the cost of sur-
viving and breeding in more extreme ecological conditions.
where divergence in areas of overlap occurs specifically in traits that affect the
rate, intensity, or outcome of competitive interactions. One of the clearest exam-
ples of such agonistic character displacement is the case of brook and ninespine
sticklebacks (Culaea inconstans and Pungitius pungitius, respectively). Kathryn
Peiman and Beren Robinson (2007) showed that brook sticklebacks from popu-
lations that overlap with ninespine sticklebacks are more aggressive than those
from populations that do not overlap, suggesting that there has been selection
for enhanced aggressiveness where these species come into contact. In another
example, Dean Adams (2004) found that robustness of head shape—a trait that
is associated with enhanced fighting ability—showed increases in areas of overlap
for two Plethodon salamanders, P. jordani and P. teyahalee. Moreover, he found a
positive correlation between head shape and aggression. He suggested that these
differences in head shape stemmed from aggressive interference competition—
salamanders that were more aggressive benefited from having a morphology that
increased their fighting ability.
The outcome of aggressive interactions will depend not only on an individ-
ual’s own aggressive behavior but also on the aggressive phenotype of other
individuals in the population. This social context of aggression can produce
novel evolutionary feedback dynamics for aggression and the traits associated
with aggression, particularly because the environment that elicits aggression
(other competitors) can evolve. Such influences of genotypes of other individ-
uals in the population on a focal individual’s aggression are termed indirect
genetic effects (Wolf et al., 1998). The importance of indirect genetic effects
for evolution have only recently been recognized. In one of the few empirical
papers showing indirect genetic effects on aggression, Alastair Wilson and col-
leagues (2009) found a strong positive genetic covariance between a focal
individual’s aggression and the aggression of its opponent. Such covariance
between aggression and the social environment can lead to positive evolution-
ary feedbacks and result in rapid evolution of aggression in the presence of
strong natural selection (Wolf et al., 1998).
CONCLUSIONS
Animals display aggression in a wide range of circumstances from competi-
tion over mates, food, or other resources, to territory defense and offspring pro-
tection, to the establishment of dominance hierarchies within social groups.
The ubiquity and importance of aggression has made it the focus of an immense
amount of research, making studies of the evolution of aggression a rich resource
for understanding the evolution of behavior more generally.
While early studies of aggression focused on trying to understand the opti-
mal expression of aggression within a population (Maynard Smith & Price,
ECOLOGICAL AND EVOLUTIONARY FEEDBACKS 317
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I thank Alex Badyaev for comments, which improved this manuscript. This
work was supported by funding from the National Science Foundation (DEB
918095).
Wolf, M., G. S. van Doorn, O. Leimar, & F. J. Weissing. (2007). Life-history trade-
offs favour the evolution of animal personalities. Nature, 447, 581–585.
Zack, S. (1975). A description and analysis of agonistic behaviour patterns in an opis-
thobranch mollusc, Hermissenda crassicornis. Behaviour, 5, 238–267.
11
INTRODUCTION
Animal behaviorists have a long-standing interest in understanding the
evolution of altruism. It all started when Charles Darwin obsessed over the
“altruism question” in his classic book On the Origin of Species. In particular,
Darwin was very worried about the behavior of honey bee workers. The prob-
lem was the self-sacrificial—indeed, suicidal—behavior that worker bees dis-
play when their nest is threatened. How could natural selection ever favor
this sort of behavior? Darwin’s biographer, Janet Browne (2002), describes
him as “specially exercised over honey bees” (p. 203), and Darwin paints him-
self as “half mad” over honey bee behavior. If Darwin (1859) was correct that
“natural selection acts only by the preservation and accumulation of small
inherited modifications, each profitable to the preserved being” (p. 95), then
what was going with these suicidal honeybees? And how could he explain other
prosocial behaviors such as guard duty and food sharing?
Darwin’s solution to the altruism problem revolved around kinship. But,
before we can understand what Darwin proposed, we need to be clear about
some terminology. Webster’s dictionary defines “kin” as “one’s relatives.”
But what animal behaviorists mean when they talk about kinship is some-
thing much more specific, namely genetic relatedness. Spouses and in-laws
are kin under the everyday usage of the word but not the more stringent,
evolution-based definition adopted by animal behaviorists. There is a similar
distinction to be made about the everyday definition of altruism and the
328 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
mother; if sibling 2 has X , there is a 50 percent chance that her mother passed
this gene to sibling 2. So there is a 1 in 4 chance that the siblings share gene X
through their mother. In a similar vein, there is a 1 in 4 probability that their
father is the reason that the siblings share gene X. To calculate the chances that
our siblings share gene X through either mother or father, we add the probabil-
ities for each and obtain 1/4 + 1/4 ¼ 1/2, or 0.5. This r value can be calculated
for any set of genetic relatives, no matter how distant. For example, the genetic
relatedness between cousins is 1/8 (that is, r ¼ 0.125), between grandparent
and grandchild is 1/4 (that is, r ¼ 0.25), and between aunts or uncles and their
blood nieces and nephews is also 1/4 (that is, r ¼ 0.25).
In Hamilton’s model, natural selection favors the gene for altruism when-
ever r × b > c. This equation has become known as Hamilton’s rule, and it lies
at the heart of inclusive fitness theory (also known as kin selection). If a gene
for altruism is to evolve, then the cost (c) of altruism must be balanced by
compensating benefits to the altruist. In Hamilton’s inclusive model, the cost
is balanced by the benefits (b) accrued by genetic relatives of the altruist
because relatives may carry the gene for altruism as well. But relatives have only
some probability—measured by r—of carrying the gene in question, and so the
benefits received by the altruist must be devalued by that probability.
When we know the costs and benefits associated with an altruistic act, and
we know the relatedness of the individuals involved, Hamilton’s rule allows us
to predict whether altruism will evolve for any value of r, b, and c. Because this
rule is more easily satisfied when r is large, the more related individuals are, the
more likely altruism is to evolve. In a similar vein, the greater the benefit/cost
ratio for the altruist, the more likely altruism is to evolve (Hamilton, 1964,
1972; Grafen, 2007).
Hamilton’s rule was first constructed for cases in which an altruist helps a
single relative, but it can easily be modified to examine a single altruistic act that
has effects on many blood relatives simultaneously. In that case, altruism
evolves when In this equation, sums benefits across all genetic rel-
atives that are helped by the act of an altruist. If an altruistic act affects two sib-
lings (n ¼ 2), it will be favored as long as the benefit received by the recipient is
simply greater than the cost to the altruist—exactly half the benefit that is nec-
essary for altruism to evolve when an altruistic act benefits a single sibling.
In 1977, Paul Sherman reported the results of his University of Michigan
dissertation work on alarm calls and blood kinship in Belding’s ground
squirrels (Spermophilus beldingi) (Sherman, 1977). Though others had tested
Hamilton’s inclusive fitness theory before this paper, Sherman’s publication
was a watershed moment. He had spent more than 3,000 hours observing
ground squirrel behavior in the Sierra Nevada mountains. Sherman, like many
ALTRUISM AND KINSHIP 331
researchers before him, had noted that when a ground squirrel spots a preda-
tor, it sometimes stands ups and emits a piercing call. In response, other squir-
rels in the vicinity head for cover. But not all squirrels were equally likely to
emit such alarm calls. Why? Why were some individuals more likely than others
to emit these calls—calls that drew attention to the caller but benefited others in the
caller’s group? Sherman’s answer would require him to integrate demography,
natural history, and inclusive fitness theory (Sherman, 1981). Let us examine
how.
When male Belding’s ground squirrels reach maturity, they emigrate to
new populations to find mates. Female squirrels, however, spend their whole
lives in their natal (birth) population. What this means is that there are
important differences in how adult males and females are related to others in
their populations. By remaining in their natal populations, females—both
young and old—are surrounded by genetic relatives. Mature males, who emi-
grate to new populations, however, are often living with individuals who are
not their genetic kin.
Over the course of his three-year study, Sherman and his colleagues saw ter-
restrial predators—weasels, badgers (Taxidea taxus), dogs (Canis lupus famili-
aris), coyotes (Canus latrans), and pine martins (Martes americana)—and
ground squirrels together on 102 occasions, and predators killed a total of six
adult Belding’s ground squirrels and three juveniles. Sherman found that
when a terrestrial predator was spotted, female squirrels gave alarm calls much
more often than expected by chance, but the converse was true for males. On
average, when a predator was spotted by ground squirrels, 30 percent of the
individuals present were adult females and 20 percent were adult males. How-
ever, when he analyzed which squirrel emitted the first altruistic alarm call,
Sherman found that females did so about 65 percent of the time (more than
twice the 30 percent that would be expected by chance alone), but males did
so 2 to 3 percent of the time (about a fifth to a tenth of what would be
expected by chance). Adult females, surrounded by genetic kin, were emitting
the altruistic alarm calls; while adult males, who tend to be unrelated to those
around them, kept quiet. Sherman, who had learned about Hamilton’s rule in
graduate school, realized that alarm callers were aiding their genetic relatives,
as inclusive fitness theory predicts (Figure 11.1).
Further support for the hypothesis that kinship helps explain the distribu-
tion of alarm calls came when Sherman found that in rare instances when a
female did leave her natal group and moved into a population of unrelated
individuals, she gave alarm calls less frequently than did native females—when
a female was not surrounded by her genetic relatives she dramatically reduced
the frequency of her alarm calling.
332 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 11.1. Alarm calls in Belding’s ground squirrels (Spermophilus beldingi) (from
Sherman, 1977, as modified in Dugatkin, 2013). Observed versus expected frequen-
cies of alarm calls in Belding’s ground squirrels. Females call much more often than
expected by chance, while the opposite is true for males.
Work on the relation between altruism and kinship is not limited to verte-
brates. Ever since Darwin first proposed that genetic relatedness may play a
role in understanding the evolution of altruism, evolutionary and behavioral
biologists have been interested in how kinship may have facilitated altruism
in the social insects: the ants, bees, and wasps (which collectively make up
the order Hymenoptera). In particular, social insect species display eusocial-
ity—a type of sociality that involves a reproductive division of labor, in which
only a small fraction of individuals in a colony breed and others in the colony
assist in cooperative rearing of offspring (Alexander et al., 1991).
Although eusociality has been uncovered in other species, it is most often
associated with ants, bees, and wasps, where it has evolved independently
at least eight times (Hughes et al., 2008). Does inclusive fitness theory help us
explain why eusociality exists in social insects? And if so, how? To answer that
question, we need to recognize that nests of eusocial species often contain
thousands of individuals, many of whom are genetic relatives. What this
means is that altruistic acts (for example, food sharing, cooperative nest
defense) benefit not just one but many many genetic relatives. But this fact
ALTRUISM AND KINSHIP 333
available for these young helpers to start their own families, and if female breed-
ing partners are scarce, then remaining at their parent’s nest and helping raise
their siblings is the only thing young males can do to increase their own inclusive
fitness. But what happens when new territories open up in the vicinity of these sexu-
ally mature male helpers? To find out, Pruett-Jones removed 29 superb fairy wren
males from their territories, creating new breeding opportunities for male helpers
in the vicinity of the removals. All but one of the 32 male helpers who could have
dispersed to the newly opened territories did so, and they did so quickly—new
territories were usually occupied by former male helpers within six hours. When
a better way to increase their own inclusive fitness appeared, male helpers seized
the opportunity for a breeding territory, even though this caused the disbanding
of the family units these helpers were originally part of.
KIN RECOGNITION
Because interactions with genetic relatives will often favor the evolution of
altruism, behavioral ecologists have studied whether, and by what means,
individuals can recognize their kin (Holmes, 2004). Consider kin recognition
seen in penguins. In some species of penguins, parents travel long distances to
the sea to obtain food to bring back to inland areas where their chicks have
hatched. When they return from their journey, parents must find their young
among thousands of screaming, hungry chicks in a colony (Aubin & Jouven-
tin, 2002; Brumm & Slabbekoorn, 2005). How do parents know which chicks
are their offspring? For species like the king penguin (Aptenodytes patagonicus)
and the emperor penguin (Aptenodytes fosteri) the answer appears to center
on complex vocal cues that allow for kin recognition via vocal signatures
emitted by the young (Aubin & Jouventin, 1998; Jouventin et al., 1999;
Aubin et al., 2000; Lengagne et al., 2000).
Some penguin species are as not proficient as the king and emperor penguins
at recognizing the vocal signatures of their offspring. Individuals who build nests,
for example, are not as adept at recognizing the vocal calls of their young as are
individuals who live in dense colonies and do not nest (Jouventin & Aubin,
2002; Searby et al., 2004). Why? Researchers hypothesize that this is due to the
fact that parents in nest-building species can find their offspring by remembering
the location of their nests. Any chick in their nest is likely their offspring, and
hence natural selection to recognize offspring by vocal cues in these species is
weak. Where the problem of kin recognition is more difficult—in dense colonies
with no nests—natural selection favors the evolution of more complex vocal
recognition systems.
A number of kin-recognition models center on an internal template against
which genetic relatedness is gauged (Reeve, 1989). The basic idea is that
ALTRUISM AND KINSHIP 335
CLOSING THOUGHT
The study of animal behavior was revolutionized by the introduction of
inclusive fitness models of the evolution of altruism. This continues to be
one of the most actively researched areas in ethology, with modern work
employing molecular genetic and phylogenetic analyses to expand the frontiers
of research in this area.
2009). These preserved characteristics can therefore be used to similarly infer the
probable behavior of prehistoric animals. The second approach is similar to the
first in the sense that it also uses information on the behavior of living species,
but it relies on phylogenetics rather than fossil evidence to infer the evolutionary
history of behavior. By comparing the behavior of species that are phylogenetic
close relatives it is possible to reconstruct the likely behavior of the common
ancestor of those species. As a basic example, if a set of closely related species
hunted in small groups, then it is reasonable to assume that the common evolu-
tionary ancestor of those species also hunted in groups. This phylogenetic com-
parative method can be taken even further to investigate the factors that might
have influenced the initial evolution of particular behaviors.
Combining fossils with information from living species and the application
of the phylogenetic comparative method has led to many important discov-
eries about the evolutionary history of behavior. These discoveries have in
turn helped behavioral scientists understand why animals in existence today
behave the way they do and how animals have adapted to their environment.
The latter is especially important for knowing how animals respond to envi-
ronmental change, which has important implications for conservation. In
the following sections, examples are presented that illustrate some of the ways
scientists have studied the history of animal behavior and what has been
learned about how animals respond to natural selection and other evolution-
ary forces.
In the case of plant foods, strontium isotope ratios depend on soil type and vary
geographically. Put simply, by measuring the strontium isotopes of mastodon
teeth, it was possible to retrace where the animals had been foraging during their
lifetime. If mastodons uncovered in southern Florida had migrated to escape the
winter from as far north as the Appalachian Mountains in Georgia, then the iso-
tope signatures of their teeth should reflect the differences in isotopes present in
the vegetation from the two regions. This is precisely what the researchers found
(Hoppe et al., 1999). Isotope signatures revealed frequent mastodon migration
over hundreds of kilometers between the Appalachians and southern Florida.
In contrast, the isotope signature of mammoth teeth also uncovered in Florida
indicated that these animals did not range nearly as far and were not, as previ-
ously hypothesized, migratory (Hoppe et al., 1999).
While the migration of mastodon implies that these animals should have
been able to buffer themselves against the ecological changes resulting from
climate shifts better than mammoths, recent studies on the migration of living
species suggested this might not have been the case. Even subtle regional
changes in temperature have lead to the mismatch of migration events with
seasonal fluctuations, placing the survival of some species in jeopardy (e.g.,
Saino et al., 2011). It is still unclear the extent to which migration in mast-
odons and its absence in mammoths contributed to their extinction, but
new data on other species—both extinct and living—should help resolve this
question. It appears, though, that climate change and whether or not species
migrated was not the primary contributing factor for the extinction of
the North American megafauna at the end of the Pleistocene (Ripple & Van
Valkenburgh, 2010).
maintained than if only females provide care (Varricchio et al., 2008). This is
presumably because males do not incur the considerable cost associated with
egg production and can invest more in incubating eggs at the expense of feed-
ing. Paleontologists used the relationship of parental care type and clutch size
to sex the caregivers in the egg-nesting Cretaceous troodontid and oviraptorid
dinosaurs. Based on the size of egg clutches, these dinosaurs were most consis-
tent with a system of exclusive male parental care and not biparental or mater-
nal care (Varricchio et al., 2008).
Further evidence for male care came from a closer examination of the bones
associated with the fossilized egg nests. Female birds and crocodiles leach large
amounts of calcium and phosphorus from their tissues during egg production,
and this leaves telltale signs in the histology of their bones. Cross sections of
fossilized bones confirmed the adult dinosaurs associated with nests were male;
there was no evidence of calcium and phosphorus leaching (Varricchio et al.,
2008). Taken together, not only were some dinosaurs building nests and incu-
bating eggs (Norell et al., 1995), but paleontologists have been able to deter-
mine that parental care was most likely provided by males and not females,
pushing back the origin of paternal care to before the evolution of birds.
Comparisons of behavior among living species have also been able to recon-
struct whether dinosaurs communicated vocally and what those calls might
have sounded like. The length of the cochlear—or inner ear—correlates
closely with the hearing sensitivity of species and can be used to predict the
frequency range, the mean frequency, and even the complexity of vocal calls
produced by animals (Walsh et al., 2009). The cochlear has been preserved
in several fossils, for example the Archaeopteryx, a bird-like precursor from
the Late Jurassic. Using the equation derived from the statistical relationship
between the length of the cochlear and the vocal characteristics of living ani-
mals, researchers have argued that Archaeopteryx had a vocal repertoire very
similar to the present-day emu (Dromaius novaehollandiae) (Walsh et al.,
2009). This also implies a reasonable complex social life for Archaeopteryx
because the complexity of communication tends to reflect the level of social
complexity in species (Freeberg et al., 2012).
Prehistoric Polygyny
It is common in nature for males to compete aggressively among themselves
for access to females. And in aggressive competition, size matters. Large males
win more fights, mate with more females, and subsequently produce more off-
spring. The selective advantage of large males in contests typically leads to the
evolution of increasing sexual size dimorphism in species. That is, males
become increasingly larger than females over evolutionary time. If body size
346 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
is strongly skewed towards males in fossils, then this is a strong indication that
males probably competed aggressive with one another in a polygamous mating
system (monogamous species are typically sexually monomorphic in size). For
example, the sexual size dimorphism of fossils has been used to infer that
strong male-male competition and polygyny existed in the extinct relatives of
present-day marsupials from the early Palaeocene (Ladevéze et al., 2011). This
implies that the solitary nature of many marsupials today has resulted from a
loss of sociality rather than being ancestral as initially assumed.
Which male a female chooses to mate with contributes not only to the evo-
lution of male size—females preferentially mate with large males over small
males—but also the evolution of male ornamentation. Sexual ornaments in
males are common in nature and provide valuable cues to females on the qual-
ity of a male as a potential mate. This is because only males in top condition
can incur the energetic and developmental costs associated with the possession
of a large ornament. Classic examples of female-driven male ornamentation
are the elaborate plumages of many male birds (e.g., peacock [Pavo cristatus]
trains). Others include conspicuous rostral appendages, such as fleshy horns,
and large throat fans in lizards.
The presence of ornaments in an extinct animal, especially if that animal
were confirmed as male, would imply a polygamous mating system. It would
also provide strong evidence that females were highly selective about which
males they chose to mate with. In present-day animals, ornaments are also
often associated with elaborate courtship displays. Determining whether
extinct animals had ornaments is helped if the features preserved in fossils
are similar in appearance to confirmed ornaments in species today. Unfortu-
nately, common ornaments like feather plumages or fleshy structures are rarely
left in the fossil record (Archaeopteryx provides an unusually clear example of
feather ornamentation). But there are also other, often more bizarre structures
preserved in fossils that paleontologists speculate might have also functioned as
ornaments. Yet there are also frequently several plausible explanations these
structures as well.
In some instances, it has been possible to test alternative hypothesis for the
function of elaborate morphological structures (Tomkins et al., 2010). Pteran-
odon were large flying pterosaurs with wingspans of many meters found in
North America in the Late Cretaceous, some 85 million years ago. Fossils
show these pterosaurs had large, prominent crests on their head (Figure
12.2), which were especially exaggerated in males (i.e., the crests were sexually
size dimorphic). Several hypotheses for what these crests might have been used
for included a rudder to facilitate flying, a heat-dissipating or -absorbing device
to aid thermoregulation, or an ornament used to attract mates. Stranger still
EVOLUTIONARY HISTORY OF BEHAVIOR 347
Figure 12.2. Illustrations of the head crests of the flying Pteranodon and dorsal sail of
Dimetrodon alongside predicted allometric slopes if crests or sails functioned as orna-
ments, as devices for thermoregulation, or as rudders (in Pteranodon). The estimated
allometry of head crests was ×6.94, while for dorsal sails it was ×1.73; these estimates
were consistent with the allometry of ornaments. (Sketches of Pteranodon and
Dimetrodon are reprinted from Tomkins et al., 2010, by permission of University
of Chicago Press.)
were the massive sails found on the backs of Dimetrodon and Edaphosaurus
dinosaurs (Figure 12.2; these animals provided the inspiration for many a
1950s Hollywood monster movie). These large predators lived during the late
Carboniferous and early Permian around 300–260 million years ago in North
America and Europe. The classic hypothesis was these large sails were struc-
tures used in thermoregulation. But it was also possible that they might have
been ornaments.
Behavioral ecologists who have studied male ornamentation in living spe-
cies have discovered the size of ornaments commonly exhibit positive allom-
etry (Kodric-Brown et al., 2006). Positive allometry occurs when larger
individuals have disproportionately larger structures—like ornaments—com-
pared to smaller individuals. This allometric pattern is believed to happen
whenever ornaments are costly to produce. Larger animals are better able to
bear the costs of having a large ornament than smaller animals, leading to a
disproportionate increase in ornament size with overall body size. Behavioral
ecologists decided to use this phenomenon to test whether Pteranodon head
crests and Dimetrodon and Edaphosaurus sails were ornaments (Tomkins et
al., 2010). The researchers also tested the alternative hypotheses relating to
rudders and thermoregulation, which biophysics predicted would have their
own unique relationships with body size (Figure 12.2).
348 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
By comparing the size of head crests and sails in fossils for a range of indi-
viduals varying in body size, the rudder and thermoregulation hypotheses were
rejected by the magnitude of the allometric slopes (it was too large; Figure
12.2). But these allometric slopes were well within the range for what would
be expected for ornaments (Tomkins et al., 2010). By extension, these appar-
ent ornaments—head crests and dorsal sails—implied that male Pteranodon,
Dimetrodon, and Edaphosaurus dinosaurs competed among themselves for
mating opportunities with females and that those females probably exerted a
strong preference for males with the largest ornament.
Some ground squirrel species, and in particular the females and juveniles of
those species, add another defense: they smear themselves with the chewed-up
remains of shed rattlesnake skins (rattlesnakes molt frequently). This behavior
was puzzling to researchers at first. It seemed that the squirrels were willingly
covering themselves with the scent of their main predator. Experiments later
revealed that this anointing behavior helped to minimize predation. Rattle-
snakes avoided the burrows of squirrels that had recently anointed themselves
with rattlesnake sheds (Clucas et al., 2008). The scent-application behavior
was a novel antipredator strategy. The scent of the rattlesnake not only hid
the squirrel’s own smell but also gave the false impression that a squirrel’s bur-
row had already been visited by a rattlesnake.
But what was the evolutionary history of this extraordinary anointing behavior?
Did anointing evolve multiple times independently in each squirrel species or just
once early in the history of the squirrel family and was retained in those species per-
forming the behavior today?
An extensive study of different squirrel species throughout North America
and Mexico was undertaken to determine which species performed the anoint-
ing behavior and which species did not (Clucas et al., 2010). This survey in
itself led to some fascinating findings. It revealed that squirrels not only
anointed with rattlesnake scent but weasel scent as well; weasels were another
key predator of ground squirrel pups in some areas of the Americas. That is,
the behavior was not specific to rattlesnakes but general to predators using
smell to hunt for squirrel pups.
The researchers then used the phylogenetic relationships among squirrel spe-
cies to reconstruct the evolutionary history of predator scent application. The
behavior was ancient, evolving once some 28 million years ago (Figure 12.3)
and possibly even as far back as 75 million years ago (Clucas et al., 2010). Yet,
in another twist to the story, the earliest fossils of rattlesnakes and weasels were
roughly 15 million years ago. This meant that scent application evolved well
before rattlesnakes and weasels even existed. It must therefore have evolved as
an antipredator strategy to some other, now extinct predator that also relied on
smell to hunt for prey. A good candidate was the ancient North American boa
snake that existed during the Oligocene (Clucas et al., 2010).
Further analysis of the relationship between the overlap of rattlesnakes and
weasels with living ground squirrels gave other insights as well. Squirrel species
that no longer faced predation from rattlesnakes had lost the scent-application
behavior. In a couple of cases, squirrels have since come back into contact with
rattlesnakes but have not reevolved the behavior. It seems then that applying
predator scent was easily lost in the absence of predation, was a highly unusual
event in the prehistory of the squirrel family, and has not been repeated since.
Figure 12.3. Ancestor reconstructions of the predator-scent-application behavior of
North American ground squirrels. Filled lines on the phylogeny depict reconstruc-
tions using parsimony; pie charts depict reconstructions using maximum likelihood.
The phylogeny of scent application indicates that the behavior evolved at least 28
million years ago. Dots at the tips of the phylogeny indicate which species did and did
not anoint themselves with predator scent when researchers placed scent out in the
environment for squirrels to inspect. (This figure is reprinted from Clucas et al., 2010,
by permission of John Wiley & Sons.)
EVOLUTIONARY HISTORY OF BEHAVIOR 351
Figure 12.4. Ancestor reconstructions of the mating call of male túngara frogs of the
genus Physalaemus. Shown are the sonograms of calls; those reconstructed at phylo-
genetic nodes were synthesized by researchers and played back to females of living
species. (This figure is reprinted from Ryan and Rand, 1995, by permission of the
American Association for the Advancement of Science.)
of the male whine were either generated from random mutation, or genetic
drift, or in response to some selection pressure other than female preference
(e.g., properties of the acoustic environment, male competition, or predation).
The fact that female preferences did generally track the evolution of male calls
showed that the coevolution of male calls and female preferences has still been
an important aspect of how communication has evolved in the group but just
that female preference has not been the engine of change in male calls.
Follow-up studies have since shown this coevolution between signal and
receiver extends beyond the whine component of the mating call. It includes
the elaboration of this call with a series of chucks added to the end of the call.
Not all species add these chucks, but the more complex call that it creates is
strongly preferred by females over just the whine by itself. Early reports using
phylogenetic reconstructions suggested that the preference for chucks pre-
dated the evolution of the chuck (Ryan & Rand, 1993), perhaps because of
EVOLUTIONARY HISTORY OF BEHAVIOR 353
a latent sensory bias for complex acoustic stimuli rather than a specific prefer-
ence for the chucks themselves. This was an exciting prospect because it sug-
gested that sensory biases in receivers could have had an important influence
on the evolution of the chuck component in the mating call. There has since
been a reexamination of this sensory bias hypothesis using a more detailed
phylogeny and broader species survey of female responses to calls that included
chucks (Ron, 2008). This later study found no evidence for females preferring
calls with chucks before the chuck evolved. Instead, the chuck produced by
males and the preference for it in females had coevolved in a similar manner
as the whine component of the call (Ryan & Rand, 1995).
This provides an important cautionary note: methods used to extrapolate
the evolutionary history of behavior are dependent on the data available at
the time the analysis is done. If these data are updated, for example if new
information comes to light, conclusions can and should be revised. This
should always be kept in mind when considering evidence from fossils or
phylogenetic comparative studies.
Individuals defend these shelters against interlopers that have either lost or
failed to build shelters of their own. In some species, individuals advertise
ownership of a leaf shelter using complex vibration signals. The signals consist
of an elaborate sequence of leaf scraping using a specialized hardened “oar” on
the abdomen and rapid drumming of the mandibles against the leaf surface
(Scott et al., 2010). On closer examination, researchers found the abdomen-
scraping part of the signal had the same sequence of movements as the crawl-
ing cycle of the caterpillar along the leaf. This suggested this part of the signal
was derived from crawling behavior.
Researchers then looked at caterpillar species that did not perform vibration
signals (Scott et al., 2010). In these nonsignaling caterpillar species, shelter
owners are on alert for the vibrations of a potential intruder crawling along
the branch. When detected, shelter owners start whipping violently backwards
and forwards across the leaf in an attempt to knock the intruder off the leaf.
The intruder can feel the vibrations of this flaying behavior and sometimes re-
treat before reaching the shelter. In many cases, this does not happen, and
shelter owners must fight it out with the intruder. (In signaling caterpillars,
individuals almost never came to blows, and disputes were resolved through
the exchange of vibration signals.) Through careful analysis of the vibrations
of the flaying behavior and the vibrations produced by territorial signaling,
the researchers found the stylized mandible drumming of the leaf surface in
the signal had striking similarities with the flaying defensive behavior.
Through phylogenetic reconstructions and detail species comparisons, it
became apparent there had been a progressive ritualization of the crawling
and flaying behavior over evolutionary time to produce the synchronized
vibrations used by signaling species today. Signal movements were repeated
in long bouts, highly stereotyped, and far simpler and more exaggerated in
structure than the sporadic movements associated with crawling and flaying
defensive behavior (Figure 12.5). This met all the requirements of a ritualized
behavior: simplification, exaggeration, repetition, and stereotypy.
There are other possible examples of the ritualization of noncommunicative
behaviors into social signals, such as the foot-drumming displays of some
mammals, but formal tests are few and difficult to perform. The study of
caterpillar communication represents a particularly elegant and rare confirma-
tion of the ritualized origins of a complex communication behavior.
Figure 12.5. Shown in the upper panel (a) are video frames showing an encounter
between a shelter owner and an intruder. On the left is a species that does not use
territorial vibration signals, Tethea or, while on the right is a species that uses vibration
signals, Drepana arcuata. In the lower panel (b), traces from a laser vibrometer show
the vibrations produced by the flaying defensive behavior of the nonsignalling species
on the left and the vibrations of the territorial signal from the signaling species on the
right. The boxes show areas of the trace that are enlarged to show roman numerals
corresponding to components that researchers found to be modified into the
ritualized signal. (This figure is reprinted from Scott et al., 2010.)
scent from shed rattlesnake skins. Another way the researchers examined this
hypothesis was by testing whether there was a correlation between squirrel spe-
cies that applied scent and geographic overlap with rattlesnakes. That is, squir-
rels that overlapped with rattlesnake ranges should apply scent, while squirrels
that did not overlap with rattlesnakes, and therefore did not suffer rattlesnake
predation, should not apply scent (given the opportunity when researchers
artificially placed shed skins out in the environment for squirrels to inspect).
A strong correlation was found and provided yet another piece of evidence that
anointing behavior in squirrels was an adaptation to predation (Clucas et al.,
2010).
To conclude, the imprint of evolutionary history is apparent in all types of
behavior to a lesser or greater degree. By placing animal behavior in a historical
context—whether it is through the study of fossils or comparisons among
living species—scientists can understand the origin of behavior and in turn
better interpret its present-day function (e.g., predator-scent application by
squirrels or the role of frog calls in species recognition). This chapter has only
briefly touched on the ways in which scientists have studied the evolution of
animal behavior. More detailed reviews can be found in Ord (2010) and
Ord and Martins (2010) for those readers who would like to delve deeper into
this exciting area of research.
REFERENCES
Boone, R. B., S. J. Thirgood, & J. G. C. Hopcraft. (2006). Serengeti wildebeest
migratory patterns modeled from rainfall and new vegetation growth. Ecology,
87, 1987–1994.
Carbone, C., T. Maddox, P. J. Funston, M. G. L. Mills, G. F. Grether, & B. Van
Valkenburgh. (2009). Parallels between playbacks and Pleistocene tar seeps
suggest sociality in an extinct sabretooth cat, Smilodon. Biology Letters 5,
81–85.
Clucas, B., T. J. Ord, & D. H. Owings. (2010). Fossils and phylogeny uncover the
evolutionary history of a unique antipredator behaviour. Journal of Evolution-
ary Biology, 23, 2197–2211.
Clucas, B., D. H. Owings, & M. P. Rowe. (2008). Donning your enemy’s cloak:
Ground squirrels exploit rattlesnake scent to reduce predation risk. Proceedings
of the Royal Society of London, B, 275, 847–852.
Darwin, C. (1859). The Origin of Species. London: Penguin Books.
Darwin, C. (1872). The Expression of the Emotions in Man and the Animals. London:
John Murray.
Freeberg, T. M., R. I. M. Dunbar, & T. J. Ord. (2012). Social complexity as a proxi-
mate and ultimate factor in communicative complexity. Philosophical Transac-
tions of the Royal Society of London, B, 367, 1785–1801.
EVOLUTIONARY HISTORY OF BEHAVIOR 357
Central-place forager—An animal that forages from a fixed home location such as
a nest.
Character displacement—Divergence in traits of species with overlapping distribu-
tions caused by competition between them.
Chase-away model—An explanation for ornaments that is based upon the funda-
mental conflict of interest between males and females in sexually reproducing organ-
isms. Male ornaments are proposed to stimulate females to mate in a manner that
benefits males but is not beneficial for females. The male ornament is favored
because it enhances male mating success, but because being attracted to the orna-
ment is bad for females, they evolve diminished response systems, which produces
selection on males for any new traits that enhance or expand the stimulatory effect
of the ornament.
Cheating—Use of a “dishonest” (unreliable) signal to manipulate a receiver.
Circadian rhythm—An endogenous activity rhythm with a period of about 24 hours.
Coefficient of relationship—A measure for the level of consanguinity (degree to
which they are descended from a common ancestor) between two given individuals.
Coevolution—The evolution of two or more species, each adapting to changes in
the other.
Colony—A dense cluster of breeding territories that do not contain only breeding
sites.
Communal nesting—More than one breeding female occupying a single nest or
nesting chamber within a burrow.
Communication—The behavior of one individual affecting the behavior of another
individual.
Communication signals—Traits (structures and behavior) that have evolved specifi-
cally because they change the behavior of receivers in ways that benefit the signaler.
Compartmentalization—The extent to which subgroups in a society operate as dis-
crete units.
Competitor—An individual of the same (intraspecific) or different (interspecific)
species that vies for the same resource (e.g., food or living space) in an ecosystem.
Condition-dependent model—An explanation that proposes that ornaments are
honest signals of condition because only individuals in good condition could pro-
duce a big ornament.
Confusion effect—A large number of prey escaping from predation at the same time
making it difficult for the predator to pursue a specific individual prey animal.
Conspecific—A member of the same species.
Constraints—Factors that act to limit response or performance.
Contact call—A signal that functions to keep an animal in touch with a group and
allow other group members to determine the location of the caller.
GLOSSARY 363
Forced copulation—A tactic in which male ducks attempting to coerce the females
into mating so violently they will on occasion drown them.
Game theory—A mathematical method for calculating success based on the choices
of others.
Generalist forager—An animal that uses many kinds of food.
Genetic bottleneck—A sharp reduction in population size that drastically reduces
the genetic variation in a population or species.
Genetic covariance—The extent to which the genetic effects for two traits vary together.
Genetic drift—Random fluctuations in the frequency of a gene, usually in a small,
isolated population, as a result of chance.
Genetic mating system—The characterization of mating relationships based on
genetic analysis of maternity and paternity.
Genetic relatedness—A quantitative estimate of the proportion of genes shared
between the genomes of any two individuals.
Genic capture model—An explanation that proposes that elaborated ornaments
inevitably become associated with condition (become condition dependent).
Gestational diabetes—High blood sugar during pregnancy.
Good genes hypothesis—A proposed explanation for mate choice based on traits
that reflect an individual’s genetic quality.
Good parent model—Females benefit from a preference for males with large orna-
ments because they provide superior resources.
Handicap principle—An explanation first proposed by Zahavi in which ornamental
traits serve as handicaps to survival such that only robust, strong, and healthy indi-
viduals could bear the burden of a big ornament.
Haplodiploid—A system in which unfertilized (haploid) eggs become males and
fertilized (diploid) eggs become females.
Haploid—A cell or organism with a set of unpaired chromosomes.
Hatching asynchrony—A pattern in which eggs in a brood do not hatch together.
Heritability—The proportion of total variance in a trait that can be attributed to
additive genetic variance in that trait.
Heterospecific—A member of a different species.
Home range—An area in which an animal or group of animals regularly travels in
search of food or mates.
Honesty—When signals reliably predict something of use to the receiver.
Incest avoidance—Individuals not attempting to breed with close relatives.
Inclusive fitness—The ability of an individual to contribute its genes to the next
generation, taking into account the shared genes passed on by the individual’s close
relatives.
GLOSSARY 367
Kin recognition—The ability to distinguish between close genetic kin and nonkin.
Kin selection—A mechanism of evolution in which characteristics favor the survival
of close relatives of an individual.
Kinship—The degree of genetic relatedness between individuals of a species.
Kleptoparasitism—Food stealing by members of the same species.
Lek—An assembly area where animals display and court potential mates.
Lek paradox—The situation that the only benefit for female mate choice when
males provide no resources is good genes, but good genes are theoretically
impossible.
Life history—The timing of key events in an organism's lifetime, as shaped by natu-
ral or sexual selection.
Life history traits—Characteristics that affect an organism’s investments in growth,
reproduction, and survivorship.
Lifelong monogamy—A form of social behavior in which individuals have only one
mate for life.
Linkage disequilibrium—The nonrandom association of alleles at two or more
loci, not necessarily on the same chromosome.
Lordosis—A female courtship display given before and during copulation in many
species of mammals.
Major histocompatibility complex (MHC)—A cell surface protein molecule that
helps the vertebrate immune system recognize foreign substances and that is
encoded by a large gene family.
Many-eyes effect—Increased antipredator vigilance ability resulting from large group
size.
Marginal—Offspring that exceed the average number that can be reared to
independence.
Masquerade—A camouflage strategy in which an organism is detectable but resem-
bles an inedible object.
Mate guarding—A tactic by which a male attempts to prevent the female from
mating with other males.
Maternal care—Parental care provided by the mother.
Mating system—A behavioral strategy employed by a population of animals to
obtain mates.
Maximum standardized selection differential—A method of estimating the maxi-
mum strength of sexual selection in units of phenotypic standard deviations.
Mean crowding—A quantitative measure of density dependence.
Mean spatial crowding (m)—A quantitative measure of the number of potential
encounters that is based on the distribution of individuals in space.
GLOSSARY 369
EDITOR
KEN YASUKAWA is Mead Family Professor of Biology at Beloit College and
Honorary Fellow in Zoology at the University of Wisconsin at Madison.
Using Niko Tinbergen as his model, he has studied the behavior and ecology
of birds and has focused primarily on the red-winged blackbird since 1973.
CONTRIBUTORS
JANIS L. DICKINSON is a Professor in Natural Resources and Arthur A.
Allen Director of Citizen Science at the Lab of Ornithology at Cornell Univer-
sity. Her interests are in cooperative breeding and other forms of social behav-
ior at both proximate and ultimate levels and in research on socially networked
citizen science as a collective action.
59–60; visual, 55–56; vocal, 345, movements, 72; sexual behavior, 61–62;
351–53 sexual conflict in, 176; tactile and
Communication signals, 12–13, 52, 79–83, vibrational communication, 59–60
210–12 Courtship displays, 346–48
Compartmentalization, 259 Cowbirds, 268
Competition, vs. mate choice, 149–50 Cox, Matt, 39
Competitors, 199 Coyotes, 23–24, 231
Competitor-to-resource ration (CRR), 115 Crabs, 306
Condition-dependent model, 163 Cresswell, Will, 40
Conflict. See Families, conflict and Crickets, 61
cooperation in Cross-fostering experiments, 214
Confusion effect, 227 Crow, James F., 105
Conservation, effects on intraspecific Crowned eagles, 84
variation in spacing behavior, 241–42 CRR (Competitor-to-resource ration), 115
Conspecific cues, 228 Crustaceans, 59–60
Conspecifics, 222 Crypsis, 236
Conspecific tutor songs, 263 Cryptic female choice, 134
Conspicuousness, 39 Cuckolding, 202
Constraint hypothesis, 299–300 Cues, 12–13, 30, 33, 44
Constraints, 4 Culture, learning and, 11
Contact calls, 64 Curio, Eberhard, 33
Contrast effects, 9 Currency, 4, 197
Conventional sex roles, 109 Current benefits hypothesis, 282
Cooper, William, 39–40 “Customer” fish, 86
Cooperation. See Families, conflict and Cuttlefish, 32
cooperation in
Cooperative breeding: based on limited Dark-eyed juncos, 59
resources, 275–76; eusociality, 281; Darwin, Charles: altruism, 327; on dogs, 63;
extended families, 203; reproductive skew, on female choice, 152–53; on honey bees,
276–80; social behavior, 276–80 327–28; mating systems, 100; On the
Cooperative defense, 271–73 Origin of Species, 327, 328; secondary
Cooperative polygamy, 277–78 sexual traits, 104; sexual selection,
Cooperative polygynandry, 277, 279 118–19, 145; on shared ancestry of species,
Cooper’s hawks, 31 348; on social communication, 353
Copulation solicitation display, 69 Darwin-Fisher theory of sexual
Coral reef fish, 298 selection, 104
Core offspring, 208 Dawkins, Richard, 76–77
Coss, Richard, 33 Deception, and communication, 76
Cost/benefit analysis, 197, 203, 213 Decision rules, 9–10
Costs of providing care, 200 Decision to flee, 39–40
Costs of remaining, 39 Decreasing marginal returns, 11
Cougars, 23–24 Deduction, 339
Counteradaptation, 179 Deep-sea anglerfish, 32
Countershading, 32 Deer, 23–24, 70, 231
Courtship behavior: in dinosaurs, 346–48; Defense against predators, 26, 41–42
honesty in communication and, 76–77; Dehydroepiandrosterone (DHEA), 235
information content in, 69; intention Density in aggregations, 226–27
INDEX 387
ISBN: 978–0–313–39870–4
EISBN: 978–0–313–39871–1
18 17 16 15 14 1 2 3 4 5
This book is also available on the World Wide Web as an eBook.
Visit www.abc-clio.com for details.
Praeger
An Imprint of ABC-CLIO, LLC
ABC-CLIO, LLC
130 Cremona Drive, P.O. Box 1911
Santa Barbara, California 93116-1911
This book is printed on acid-free paper
Manufactured in the United States of America
Contents
9. Avian Brood Parasitism: How to Spot a Foreign Egg in the Nest? 249
Mark E. Hauber and Jason Low
10. How Animals Remember Places and Find Their Way Around 269
David F. Sherry
INTRODUCTION
Threespine sticklebacks (Gasterosteus aculeatus) have taught us a great deal
about animal behavior. This chapter starts with a tribute to sticklebacks,
explaining why this small fish has proven to be such a fascinating subject for
studies of animal behavior. Although there are many stories to tell about
sticklebacks, this chapter focuses on individual differences in behavior as a case
study to illustrate an integrative approach to studying animal behavior. The
chapter concludes with a forecast of what new genomic technologies are likely
to add to our understanding of individual differences in behavior and to the
study of animal behavior in general.
Figure 1.1. The stability of a single behavior. Each line represents the behavior of a dif-
ferent individual, measured at three different points in time. Rank-order differences
between individuals are stable in (a) but not in (b).
Figure 1.2. The stability of a behavioral syndrome. Individuals are indicated with dif-
ferent data points. (a) A syndrome is stable when we observe the same correlation
between behaviors at different points in time, that is, at different ages. Note that a
stable syndrome does not necessarily imply stable single behaviors (the individual
represented by the filled circle showed the highest levels of behaviors x and y at age 1
but the lowest levels at age 2). (b) A syndrome is unstable when behaviors are corre-
lated at some ages but not others.
Figure 1.4. Measuring boldness, see text for details. (From Bell, 2005)
8 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Table 1.1. Correlation coefficients between boldness and aggressiveness at three dif-
ferent ages in two populations. Note that in the Navarro population, boldness and
aggressiveness were positively correlated with each other at all three ages (Bell &
Stamps, 2004).
Population Juvenile Subadult Adult
three ages, so that fish that were more bold were also more aggressive, but a
fish that was bold as a juvenile did not necessarily grow up to become a bold
adult. However, if a fish was bold as a juvenile, it was also aggressive as a
juvenile.
Altogether, these results suggest that correlations between behaviors do not
necessarily mean that an individual who started out as one behavioral type, for
instance very bold and aggressive, is destined to grow up to be bold and aggres-
sive. On the one hand, this can be interpreted as a lack of developmental con-
straint because there was some flexibility of behavior. However, the pattern
that we observed in the Navarro population was that behaviors tended to
change together in a coordinated fashion, which means that an individual
could not be both shy and aggressive at the same time. Therefore some pheno-
typic possibilities were limited. The reversible coordinated shift of an entire
suite of behaviors in concert with each other is similar to other familiar behav-
ioral transitions, such as the reversible shift between different alternative
mating types. For example, when a male cichlid obtains a territory, he
becomes brightly colored, very aggressive, and courts females. But this shift
is reversible and if that male loses his territory, the entire suites of traits
changes back in a coordinated way (Hofmann et al., 1999).
Figure 1.5. The evolutionary fate of correlated traits. Each data point represents a dif-
ferent individual, coded by population; population means are designated with stars.
See text for details. (From Bell, 2005)
boldness and aggression acts as a constraint, we would expect to see the behav-
ioral syndrome in different populations, and we would expect the means of the
two populations, designated by stars in Figure 1.5, to also lie along the
correlation.
Alternatively, if the correlation between boldness and aggression is not con-
strained by a genetic correlation, or if the correlation can be uncoupled, we
can envision a variety of possible outcomes. Perhaps the correlation is broken
apart in different populations. Or perhaps the mean level of one of the traits,
such as aggression, differs between the populations, but the syndrome is
present in both—the intercept is simply shifted up, but the slope is the same.
Or maybe the correlation is broken apart in one population but not the other.
My point in going through these scenarios is to point out that comparing the
relationship between behavioral traits in different populations can tell us
whether a behavioral syndrome is acting as an evolutionary constraint.
To test this hypothesis, I collected wild-caught adults from the Navarro
River and Putah Creek. I brought the adults into the lab, and I measured bold-
ness and aggressiveness on each individual, using the methods described earlier
(the subjects were actually the parents of the fish described in the previous sec-
tion). The results for the wild-caught adults are in Figure 1.6.
INTEGRATED STUDIES OF STICKLEBACK BEHAVIOR 11
Figure 1.6. Aggressiveness is on the y axis, and boldness is on the x axis. These results
show principal component scores. The means are indicated with stars. Boldness and
aggressiveness were positively correlated in one population but not the other (Navarro
r ¼ 0.52, N ¼ 29, P < 0.01; Putah r ¼ 0.13, N ¼ 42, NS). (From Bell, 2005)
The first thing that was most obvious—to me, at least—when watching the
fish is that Navarro fish were very timid around the predator—while Putah
fish boldly foraged under predation risk, the Navarro fish spent most of their
time hiding, and this was a statistically significant difference between the
means of the two populations. The other thing that was immediately obvious
was the Putah fish were much less aggressive than Navarro fish. Again, the dif-
ference in population means is statistically significant. So means of the popu-
lations, although they are just two data points, do not support the idea that
the positive correlation between boldness and aggressiveness can act as a con-
straint because the population that was more bold (Putah) was actually less
aggressive.
When we look closer at the actual individual values—each of the dots rep-
resents a different individual, coded by population—we found that across
individuals from the Navarro River, there was a significant positive correlation
between boldness and aggressiveness, so that the most aggressive fish were also
12 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 1.7. Approaching behavioral syndromes from the bottom up (by studying proxi-
mate mechanisms) and from the top down (by studying how they are shaped by
selection).
emphasize that while we are familiar with thinking about average differences
in behavior between populations, that is, we expect populations under high
predation pressure to have better-developed antipredator behavior, for exam-
ple; we have few expectations about how we expect correlations among behav-
iors to vary according to ecology or selection pressures. In other words, we
have yet to develop a conceptual framework—either mechanistic or adaptive
—that can explain why we observe consistent individual differences in behav-
ior across contexts.
Sticklebacks in the Navarro River have historically been subject to stronger
selection by piscivorous predators than fish in Putah Creek, suggesting that
the syndrome is associated with predation risk. Moreover, another study on
independent populations confirmed that sticklebacks behave more predictably
under predation pressure in multiple, replicated freshwater populations
(Dingemanse et al., 2007). Therefore the pattern is that we observe the
boldness-aggressiveness behavioral syndrome in sticklebacks when predation
pressure is high. To test whether predators are actually causally related to the
syndrome, we performed an experiment to assess whether we could generate
the syndrome by applying predation risk.
We exposed fish from the low-risk population of sticklebacks in which
boldness and aggressiveness were not correlated (Putah Creek) to real preda-
tion by trout. We measured boldness and aggressiveness on individual fish
and individually marked them. We then put groups of the fish into large semi-
natural tanks with live rainbow trout, with three trout per tank. Once half
14 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 1.8. Boldness and aggressiveness were not correlated prior to exposure to preda-
tion (R = 0.131, N = 136, P = 0.127), but the syndrome appeared after selection (R =
0.462, N = 60, P < 0.0001. (From Bell & Sih, 2007)
of the sticklebacks had been eaten, we removed the trout from the tank and
recorded the identity of the survivors. As a control, we had a group of fish that
were treated identically except that they were not exposed to live predation.
We then remeasured the behavior of the survivors (Bell & Sih, 2007).
The results are in Figure 1.8 with each individual represented by a different
data point.
Before being subjected to predation by the trout, boldness and aggressive-
ness were not related to each other. After the predators consumed half the
sticklebacks, though, the syndrome appeared among the survivors. Impor-
tantly, the behaviors were not associated with each other in the control group
either before or after. This provides strong evidence that predation actually
generated the boldness-aggressiveness behavioral syndrome.
However, there are two ways in which this result could have come about
(Figure 1.9). The data from “before” are in Figure 1.9a.
The first way is via differential survivorship of particular behavioral types
(Figure 1.9a). That is, individuals along the diagonal were the ones that sur-
vived while individuals that were off the diagonal were eaten. Alternatively,
perhaps individuals shifted their behavior, so that the ones that were mis-
matched for the two behaviors, of the very bold and nonaggressive individuals,
and the very shy and aggressive individuals shifted their behavior, or plastically
moved onto the correlation (Figure 1.9b).
What we actually found was an intriguing combination of both of these
processes. We did a phenotypic selection analysis, which basically involves
regressing relative fitness on the standardized values for each of the traits, their
Figure 1.9. (a) Selection via disproportionate survivorship might have generated the
syndrome. (b) Alternatively, behavioral plasticity could have generated the syndrome
under predation risk.
16 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
squared terms, and their products, to tell us about the strength of directional,
stabilizing, and correlational selection. Individuals that were more aggressive
had higher survivorship, and individuals that were less bold had lower survi-
vorship (Bell & Sih, 2007). But there was not correlational selection—or the
correlation itself was not selected for. An important caveat to this result,
though, is that we probably did not have sufficient statistical power to detect
correlational selection, which is very hard to measure (Kingsolver et al., 2001).
These results can be more easily visualized when we look at the data prior to
exposure to predators. Figure 1.10 shows individuals coded by whether or not
they survived—survivors are in open circles, but the ones that died are in
closed circles (Figure 1.10).
The rates of survivorship are marked in each corner—as you can see, the
bold and unaggressive individuals did really badly. This is consistent with
the directional selection gradients, which were going in that direction. How-
ever, the selection analysis did not reveal the whole picture because behavior
also changed: sticklebacks became less aggressive in response to the predator
(Bell & Sih, 2007), showing that there was some plasticity as well. Altogether,
we infer that predators preferentially consumed bold and unaggressive
Figure 1.10. Both selection and plasticity generated the syndrome. Filled circles re-
present individuals that died; open circles represent survivors. The rate of survival of
the different quartiles (bold and aggressive, bold and nonaggressive, etc.) are indicated
in each corner. (From Bell & Sih, 2007)
INTEGRATED STUDIES OF STICKLEBACK BEHAVIOR 17
behavioral types (individuals in the top left corner) and that plasticity shifted
the entire population to the left (Figure 1.10).
In summary, we found that boldness and aggressiveness were not packaged
together as a syndrome before exposure to real predation, but the syndrome
appeared among the survivors, and both selection and plasticity induced the
correlation. Altogether this work shows that predation is, indeed, causally
related to the syndrome and shows that this behavioral syndrome can be adap-
tive, and selected for.
While just a few years ago it was surprising to consider that animals might
have “personality,” that is, that there are consistent individual differences in
the ways that animals behave, we now know that personality is widespread
and not just restricted to higher vertebrates (Gosling, 2001). We also know
that individual variation is often evolutionarily meaningful, in that it is herit-
able and related to fitness (Dingemanse & Reale, 2005). But one of the things
we have learned from sticklebacks is that the important question is not just
whether or not animals have personalities but that one of our main goals
should be to explain why personalities look the way that they do (Sih & Bell,
2008). Why do individuals behave consistently in some contexts but not
others? Why do some species, or some populations, or some individuals,
behave consistently while others do not? Why are some behaviors more consis-
tent than others? We are just beginning to develop a conceptual framework—
either from an adaptive perspective or by understanding the mechanism—that
can explain (or even better, predict) consistent individual differences in
behavior.
Figure 1.13a. Hypothalamic serotonin was negatively correlated with levels of aggres-
siveness at an individual level. (From Bell et al., 2007)
Figure 1.13b. Hypothalamic serotonin was positively correlated with levels of boldness
toward a predator (predator inspection) at the individual level. (From Bell et al.,
2007)
CONCLUSION
Sticklebacks are likely to continue to play an important role in the study of
animal behavior and in behavioral genomics owing to their recent emergence as
a model organism for studying the genetics of adaptation (Colosimo et al.,
2005). Behavioral syndromes are also likely to be central players in integrative
studies of animal behavior because they encourage us to adopt a more holistic
view of animal behavior—rather than narrowly studying just one type of behav-
ior at a time, the behavioral syndromes view of the world emphasizes the value of
simultaneously considering relationships between diverse types of behavior (Sih
et al., 2004). Indeed, a truly integrative approach views behavior as just one
part of the organism’s entire integrated phenotype (Pigliucci & Preston, 2004).
Moreover, syndromes encourage integrative approaches because they pose both
proximate and ultimate questions (Sih et al., 2004).
Although this chapter focused on the behavior of sticklebacks in just two con-
texts—around predators and around conspecifics—there are many more fasci-
nating stories to tell about sticklebacks—from paternal care (Tulley &
Huntingford, 1987), to their complex social behavior (Ward et al., 2002), to
their strange divergence into benthic and limnetic types in certain lakes (Schluter,
1995), to their unusual “glue” used to construct nests (Jakobsson et al., 1999), to
the strange parasite-mediated changes in their behavior (Barber & Huntingford,
1995). Therefore it is likely that sticklebacks will continue to be excellent subjects
for integrative studies of animal behavior into the future.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I thank Judy Stamps, Andy Sih, Felicity Huntingford, and Gene Robinson
for their mentorship, and the NSF and NIH for financial support.
Honey bee aggression supports a link between gene regulation and behavioral
evolution. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 106, 15400–
15405.
Aubin-Horth, N. & S. C. Renn. (2009). Genomic reaction norms: Using integrative
biology to understand molecular mechanisms of phenotypic plasticity. Molecu-
lar Ecology, 18, 3763–3780.
Baker, J. A. (1994). Life history variation in female threespine stickleback. In M. A.
Bell & S. A. Foster (eds.), The Evolutionary Biology of the Threespine Stickleback
(pp. 144–187). Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.
Barber, I. & F. A. Huntingford. (1995). The effect of Schistocephalus solidus (Cestoda:
Pseudophyllidea) on the foraging and shoaling behaviour of three-spined
sticklebacks, Gasterosteus aculeatus. Behaviour, 132, 1223–1240.
Bell, A. M. (2005). Differences between individuals and populations of threespined
stickleback. Journal of Evolutionary Biology, 18, 464–473.
Bell, A. M. (2007). Future directions in behavioural syndromes research. Proceedings
of the Royal Society of London, B, 274, 755–761.
Bell, A. M. & N. Aubin-Horth. (2010). What whole genome expression data can tell
us about the ecology and evolution of personality in animals. Philosophical
Transactions of the Royal Society of London, B, 365, 4001–4012.
Bell, A. M., T. Backstrom, F. A. Huntingford, T. G. Pottinger, & S. Winberg.
(2007). Variable neuroendocrine responses to ecologically-relevant challenges
in sticklebacks. Physiology and Behavior, 91, 15–25.
Bell, A. M. & G. E. Robinson. (2011). Behavior and the dynamic genome. Science,
332, 1161–1162.
Bell, A. M. & A. Sih. (2007). Exposure to predation generates personality in threes-
pined sticklebacks. Ecology Letters, 10, 828–834.
Bell, A. M. & J. A. Stamps. (2004). Development of behavioural differences between
individuals and populations of sticklebacks, Gasterosteus aculeatus. Animal
Behaviour, 68, 1339–1348.
Bell, M. A. & S. A. Foster. (1994). Introduction to the evolutionary biology of the
threespine stickleback. In M. A. Bell & S. A. Foster (eds.), The Evolutionary
Biology of the Threespine Stickleback (pp. 1–27). Oxford, UK: Oxford Univer-
sity Press.
Burggren, W. & S. Warburton. (2005). Comparative developmental physiology: An
interdisciplinary convergence. Annual Review of Physiology, 67, 203–223.
Carney, G. E. (2007). A rapid genome-wide response to Drosophila melanogaster social
interactions. BMC Genomics, 8, 288. doi:10.1186/1471-2164-8-288.
Colosimo, P. F., K. E. Hosemann, S. Balabhadra, J. Guadalupe Villarreal, M. Dick-
son, J. Grimwood, J. Schmutz, R. M. Myers, D. Schluter, & D. M. Kingsley.
(2005). Widespread parallel evolution in sticklebacks by repeated fixation of
ectodysplasin alleles. Science, 307, 1928–1933.
Cresko, W. A., A. Amores, C. Wilson, J. Murphy, M. Currey, P. Phillips, M. A. Bell,
C. B. Kimmel, & J. H. Postlethwait. (2004). Parallel genetic basis for repeated
INTEGRATED STUDIES OF STICKLEBACK BEHAVIOR 29
Sanogo, Y. O., S. Hankison, M. Band, A. Obregon, & A. M. Bell. (2011). Brain tran-
scriptomic response of threespine sticklebacks to cues of a predator. Brain
Behavior and Evolution, 77, 270–285.
Schluter, D. (1995). Adaptive radiation in sticklebacks: Trade-offs in feeding perfor-
mance and growth. Ecology, 76, 82–90.
Sih, A. & A. M. Bell. (2008). Insights for behavioral ecology from behavioral syn-
dromes. Advances in the Study of Behavior, 38, 227–281.
Sih, A., A. M. Bell, J. C. Johnson, & R. Ziemba. (2004). Behavioral syndromes: An
integrative overview. Quarterly Review of Biology, 79, 241–277.
Stamps, J. A. (2007). Growth-mortality tradeoffs and “personality traits” in animals.
Ecology Letters, 10, 355–363.
Stamps, J. A. & T. G. G. Groothuis. (2010). The development of animal personality:
Relevance, concepts and perspectives. Biological Reviews, 85, 301–325.
Tinbergen, N. (1940). Die Ubersprungbewegung. Zeitschrift für Tierpsychologie, 4,
1–40.
Tinbergen, N. (1951). The Study of Instinct. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press.
Tinbergen, N. (1972). The Animal in Its World: Explorations of an Ethologist.
Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Tinbergen, N. & J. J. A. van Iersel. (1947). “Displacement reactions” in the three-
spined stickleback. Behaviour, 1, 56–63.
Tulley, J. J. & F. A. Huntingford. (1987). Paternal care and the development of adap-
tive variation in anti-predator responses in sticklebacks. Animal Behaviour, 35,
1570–1572.
van Oers, K., G. de Jong, A. J. van Noordwijk, B. Kempenaers, & P. J. Drent.
(2005). Contribution of genetics to the study of animal personalities: A review
of case studies. Behaviour, 142, 1185–1206.
van Oers, K. & D. L. Sinn. (2011). Toward a basis for the phenotypic gambit: Advances
in the evolutionary genetics of animal personality. In M. Inoue-Murayama,
S. Kawamura, & A. Weiss (eds.), From Genes to Animal Behavior: Social Struc-
tures, Personalities, Communication by Color (pp. 165–183). New York: Springer.
Walker, J. A. & M. A. Bell. (2000). Net evolutionary trajectories of body shape evo-
lution within a microgeographic radiation of threespine stickleback (Gasteros-
teus aculeatus). Journal of the Zoological Society of London, 252, 293–302.
Walling, C. A., N. Dawnay, A. J. N. Kazem, R. Hickling, & J. Wright. (2003). Do
competing males cooperate? Familiarity and its effect on cooperation during
predator inspection in male three-spined sticklebacks (Gasterosteus aculeatus).
Journal of Fish Biology, 63, 243–244.
Walling, C. A., N. Dawnay, A. J. N. Kazem, & J. Wright. (2004). Predator inspec-
tion behaviour in three-spined sticklebacks (Gasterosteus aculeatus): Body size,
local predation pressure and cooperation. Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology,
56, 164–170.
Ward, A. J. W., M. S. Botham, D. J. Hoare, R. James, M. Broom, J. G. J. Godin, &
J. Krause (2002). Association patterns and shoal fidelity in the three-spined
stickleback. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 269, 2451–2455.
32 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
INTRODUCTION
Songbirds have been a central focus for animal behaviorists studying the social,
ecological, and evolutionary processes that influence behavior. Their song has
long fascinated naturalists, and the relative ease of capturing, marking, and
observing songbirds has enabled detailed studies of known individuals. Several
model songbird species have emerged through decades of research. The song
sparrow (Melospiza melodia) is one of them. Starting with the pioneering work
of Margaret Nice (Nice, 1937, 1943) and continuing through the studies of
population dynamics on Mandarte Island in British Columbia (e.g., Smith,
1984; Smith et al., 2005; Smith & Zach, 1979), song sparrows have been a
major model system in North America for answering questions about behavior
and evolution. Here we describe the results of our own studies on song spar-
rows, ongoing since 1986 in Discovery Park, Seattle, Washington. We focus
on one major facet of our research, the question of how social dynamics in this
population have shaped the song system the birds use to communicate and
how it may have shaped the process of song learning.
In many ways, song sparrows are the archetypical temperate songbird: they
get their name from their beautiful, complex song, and, like most songbirds,
34 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
they learn these songs. A male song sparrow—only males sing in this species—
learns his songs during his first year of life, the process ending when he is 9 to
10 months old and beginning his first breeding season. A major function of song
sparrow song is to mediate a male’s interactions with his territorial neighbors.
Song sparrows pair up monogamously and maintain territories that are
large enough for most of their foraging (though they do forage off the territory
some of the time). Both parents contribute roughly equally to parental care
(although the female does all the incubation) and in a good year may fledge
two clutches in a breeding season. Although pairs are socially monogamous,
they are not genetically monogamous, as about 25 percent of the young in a
nest are fathered not by the social mate but by one or more of the neighboring
males (O’Connor et al., 2006; Sardell et al., 2010; Hill et al., 2011). Extra-
pair mating appears to be the rule and not the exception in songbirds
(Griffith et al., 2002; Westneat & Stewart, 2003), and the 25 percent extra-
pair parentage rate seen in song sparrows is about average for a songbird spe-
cies. The bulk of territory defense is handled by the male, with song being
one important tool in the male’s defense arsenal. First and foremost, by sing-
ing from various posts within his territory, the male indicates the extent and
boundaries of his territory while signaling that he is home, ready to defend it
against any intruder. In addition to singing to “post” his territory, the male
can communicate, at a distance, with his neighbors. In particular, two coun-
tersinging males can use song to negotiate and remind each other of the loca-
tion of the boundary that separates their territories. These negotiations are
generally most intense in early spring before the onset of the breeding season,
especially between new neighbors (about 30 to 40 percent of song sparrows in
our population do not survive over winter).
DEAR ENEMIES
As is the case in many territorial species, long-term neighbors have an inter-
esting relationship, one that is partially competitive but also partially co-
operative. For the territorial male, his neighbor is a competitor for matings
(fertilizations), for food on the territory, and for the territory itself. At the same
time, however, he prefers the neighbor he knows to a new neighbor he does
not know because a new neighbor will not know and therefore not respect
the present boundaries and will extract costs in time and effort to reestablish
them. Thus the relationship of the territorial neighbors has been dubbed a
“dear enemy” relationship (Fisher, 1954; Temeles, 1994). We focus on this
relationship in this chapter and attempt to show how it affects both the song
communication system and the song-learning program of song sparrows.
FRIENDS AND ENEMIES 35
Figure 2.1. Partial song repertoires of two song sparrows. Birds A and B were neighbors
and shared the first three songs in their nine-song repertoires (33% sharing). The
shared songs of birds A and B are shown in the top three rows, while six of their
remaining unshared types are shown in the bottom three rows. Frequency (vertical)
scale: 0-10 kHz, markers at 2-kHz intervals. Songs are 2 to 3 seconds long.
Because, in our western population, a song sparrow begins song learning after
he disperses from his natal area and typically learns his songs in the neighbor-
hood in which he will ultimately settle, his final repertoire consists of “local”
songs, and he will usually share song types with his neighbors. Thus a bird
might settle next to an older bird from whom he learned some of his songs,
or next to a bird with whom he has some “song tutors” in common; other
more complicated “lines of descent” in song learning are possible of course.
A typical result is shown in Figure 2.1, in which two neighboring song
sparrows share four of their nine songs.
vocal signals, but most often they are another animal’s signals. Playback
experiments are essentially simulations: the experimenters attempt to simulate
a natural occurrence, but one in which they can control the location, timing,
context, delivery, and acoustical characteristics of the playback. The first play-
back experiments were carried out with songbirds, with the goal of determin-
ing if birds could distinguish between local and nonlocal dialects, or between
neighbor and stranger songs (Weeden & Falls, 1959). In the experiments we
describe in this chapter, we most often have tried to simulate a particular
neighbor, usually singing from his own territory but sometimes singing from
within the subject’s territory (a simulated intrusion). We have also simulated
strangers, either on or off the territory, and juvenile birds singing song that is
not fully developed. For playbacks from outside the territory, the simulation
is realistic because song is a long-distance signal most often sung by a bird that
is out of sight or obscured by foliage. However, for intrusions onto the territory
or on occasions when the subject gets close to the playback, the simulation is less
realistic because real birds do not both hide and sing full-throated song at the
same time. In some cases we have enhanced the simulation by using a taxider-
mic mount (a stuffed bird) of a song sparrow. Subjects in this case will direct
their attention to the mount, often giving aggressive displays—wing waves
(see Figure 2.2) and soft song (discussed further below) and often attacking it.
Although the mount does not move—clearly a robot would be ideal—it does
provide the subject with a plausible source of the song he is hearing as well as
an actual “intruder” to attack. We have discovered that we can make this
Figure 2.2. A male song sparrow wing-waving, an aggressive signal. Note color bands
on legs by which the bird is individually identified. (Photo by Çağlar Akçay)
38 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
simulation most realistic by placing the mount in the foliage of a bush or a tree
in a natural singing position and by using a small (and thus relatively incon-
spicuous) loudspeaker placed close to the mount. When the mount is so placed,
over half of subjects will attack it within 15 minutes (Akçay et al., 2013).
Figure 2.3. Response during playback of 14 male song sparrows to songs of neighbors
and strangers played in three locations: the regular boundary of the neighbor that
sings the N song (where the neighbor song is normally heard), at the center of the
subject’s territory, and at the boundary opposite the boundary of the subject and his
neighbor. Response scores refer to the first component (PC1) of a principal compo-
nent analysis on number of flights and closest approach to the playback speaker. Error
bars are 2 SE. (From Stoddard et al., 1991. Reprinted by permission of Springer
Publishing.)
neighbor singing from his boundary with the subject. In one playback we
played songs of the earlier (simulated) intruder, this time from the intruder’s
own territory, just on his side of the boundary. In the other playback, we
played the songs of a neutral neighbor from just on his side of their mutual
boundary. These boundary playbacks were separated by 15 minutes, and their
order was counterbalanced across subjects. We predicted that if males keep
track of the behavior of their neighbors and retaliate specifically against those
who have violated the boundary agreement, that they should respond more
strongly to the boundary playback of the neighbor who had earlier intruded
40 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 2.4. (a) Experimental design of Akçay et al. (2009). Each trial started with an
intrusion on the subject’s territory (1), followed by two boundary playbacks from
the intruder’s boundary and the neutral neighbor’s boundary (2 and 3; the order of
these were counterbalanced across subjects). (b) Results from Akçay et al. (2009).
Aggression scores refer to the first component (PC1) of a principal component
analysis on three variables: rate of flights, closest approach, and latency to respond.
Higher scores indicate higher aggression. Error bars are ≥1 SE. (Based on data from
Akçay et al., 2009)
than to the boundary playback of the neutral neighbor. Indeed, our results
showed that subjects responded significantly more aggressively towards neigh-
bors who recently intruded upon their territory (Figure 2.4[b]).
A further prediction of the dear enemy hypothesis is that a bird should base
his assessment of his neighbor not only on his direct experience with that
neighbor but on his observation of that neighbor’s interactions with other
neighbors. Birds with multiple neighbors have ample opportunity to eaves-
drop on the interactions of these neighbors with one another and identify
the breaking of a truce between two neighbors through eavesdropping. If a
neighbor breaks the truce with another neighbor, then he is more likely to
be an aggressor to oneself as well. We therefore carried out another playback
experiment and predicted that a song sparrow would (1) eavesdrop on a simu-
lated intrusion of neighbor A on neighbor B and (2) use this information in
calibrating his aggressiveness toward these neighbors in subsequent interac-
tions. Specifically, we predicted that subsequently he would behave more
aggressively toward the intruding neighbor singing from his boundary than
toward the victimized neighbor singing from his (Akçay et al., 2010).
Some recent theoretical work has challenged this prediction. In a model of
eavesdropping in agonistic interactions, Johnstone and Bshary (2004) found
that the presence of eavesdroppers increased rather than decreased their overall
aggression. The logic is that it pays to be more aggressive in the presence of
FRIENDS AND ENEMIES 41
Figure 2.5. (a) Experimental design of Akçay et al. (2010). Each trial started with an
intrusion (1) on the victim’s territory, which was adjacent to the subject’s territory.
The boundary playbacks from the victim and the intruder (2 and 3, order counter-
balanced across subjects) were directed to the subject, who did not receive the
intrusion himself but had eavesdropped on it. (b) Results from Akçay et al. (2010).
Aggression scores refer to the first component (PC1) of a principal component
analysis on three variables: rate of flights, closest approach, and latency to respond.
Higher scores indicate higher aggression. Error bars are ≥1 SE. (Based on data from
Akçay et al., 2010)
42 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
defending one’s own territory, they should retaliate against (respond more
strongly to) the intruding neighbor.
Our results showed that subjects did in fact increase aggression towards
neighbors who had recently intruded on another neighbor’s territory (Figure
2.5b). Furthermore, 8 out of 10 subjects approached the victim’s boundary
during the intrusion, indicating that they were indeed interested in the
intrusion. This is the first evidence for eavesdropping in a territorial system
with repeated interactions between familiar individuals. In other words, an
aggressive individual will acquire a bad reputation in the eye of eavesdropping
neighbors and is likely to face retaliation from these neighbors. We identify
this threat of retaliation by eavesdropping neighbors as an additional factor
promoting dear enemy cooperation between neighbors, contrary to the sug-
gestions of models of eavesdropping in agonistic contexts (Johnstone, 2001;
Johnstone & Bshary, 2004).
Figure 2.6. Cartoon illustrating how song sparrow neighbors communicate using
shared songs. A bird typically addresses a neighbor by singing one of the songs they
share. The neighbor can reply by singing the same song type (type matching), singing
a different song type that he shares with that neighbor (repertoire matching), singing a
song type he does not share with that neighbor, or not singing at all. Type matching
appears to be an escalation and singing an unshared song a deescalation, while reper-
toire matching is an intermediate but directed signal.
few meters into Bird 2’s territory, and he aims to establish this new boundary.
They share four of these songs—we will call them types A, B, C, and D—but
no others. Bird 1 can “address” bird 2 by singing one of their shared types A,
B, C, or D (in the direction of bird 2 because other neighbors may also share
some of these types). Let us say bird 1 sings A. Bird 2 then can “acknowledge”
the signal by replying with B, C, or D (repertoire matches), reply with A (type
match), sing one of the unshared types, or ignore by not singing at all. If bird
2 type matches bird 1 (sings A), bird 2 can then continue to sing that song
type (“stay on type”), can switch to another shared song (repertoire matching;
Beecher et al., 1996), switch to an unshared type, or disengage totally by stop-
ping singing. Note that to type match, the bird need have no prior experience
with his opponent—the bird simply replies with his most similar song, and
generally the match’ will be perceptually obvious. But to reply with a shared
song or with an unshared song, the bird needs to have had some experience
with his neighbor—the bird needs to know which songs the two share and
which they do not. This pattern of singing does not normally develop until
birds have been neighbors for some period of time.
These “singing conventions” are summarized in Figure 2.7. It turns out
that each convention—type matching, repertoire matching, and switching
Figure 2.7. Schematic diagram of an interaction between two neighboring song spar-
rows. Birds A and B interact during six time periods (T1-T6), each of which con-
tains a change of state. Aggressive escalations are indicated with upward (solid line)
arrows, and deescalations with downward (dotted line) arrows. For simplicity the
diagram focuses on escalations. The interaction begins when the two birds are at a
distance, on their own territories, and probably out of visual contact, but as the
interaction escalates, the birds approach one another and are presumed to be within a
few meters of one another to the right of the dotted line. The signal and response
alternatives of each bird are indicated vertically, with more aggressive alternatives
above less aggressive ones. The song sparrow signaling system depends on the fact that
two territorial neighbors will share some of their 7 to 10 song types and not others. At
T1, bird A engages his neighbor by singing a shared song. At T2, the neighbor (bird
B) can escalate by replying to that shared song with a type match (the same song type),
deescalate by singing an unshared song, or reply at an intermediate level with a rep-
ertoire match (a different song type they share). If bird B repertoire matches (the most
common reply for established neighbors), then at T3, bird A can escalate by type
matching or deescalate by singing a different song type (either an unshared song type
or a different shared type—i.e., another repertoire match). If bird B instead type
matches at T2, then at T3, bird A can either maintain escalation by staying with the
type match or deescalate by switching song types. At T4, the birds should be close,
and bird B can escalate by switching to soft song. Bird A can meet the escalation by
switching to soft song, or he can retreat (T5). Soft song is the strongest aggressive
signal in the hierarchy, and at this point (T6), soft song is most likely followed by
attack. In this system, the type matching is a poor predictor of attack because several
layers of contingency intervene between B’s initial decision on whether to type match
and his final decision on whether to attack. Type matching can still be viewed as an
aggressive signal, however, because it does predict escalation in the interaction. (This
model is based primarily on Beecher et al., 1996; Beecher, Campbell, Burt, et al.,
2000; Burt et al., 2001; Beecher & Campbell, 2005; and Akçay et al., 2013.)
FRIENDS AND ENEMIES 45
surprise, only about 20 percent of subjects actually attacked the mount, and
only one signaling behavior, soft songs (low-amplitude songs that song spar-
rows tend to sing from close range), was significantly associated with a sub-
sequent attack. None of the other signaling behaviors, including type
matching, was associated with whether or not the subjects attacked the mount
subsequently (Searcy et al., 2006). If type matching does not predict success-
fully that an attack is impending, how can it be a threat signal?
There are at least two possible answers. First, this case may simply be
another one of the differences between eastern and western song sparrow pop-
ulations that we alluded to earlier. Some populations of eastern song sparrows,
including the Pennsylvania population that Searcy and colleagues studied,
show very limited song sharing (Hughes et al., 1998, 2007), and it is possible
that the signaling code of Washington song sparrows does not apply to Penn-
sylvania song sparrows where song sharing between neighbors is uncommon
—hence type matching and repertoire matching would not be possible most
of the time. However, a subsequent playback experiment we carried out in
our Washington population also failed to confirm that type matching was a
reliable predictor of an impending attack (Akçay et al., 2011). Thus, although
population differences may be part of the answer, they do not seem to be the
whole answer.
The second possible answer is that type matching, while a threat signal and
thus predicting escalation, is a long-distance, low-level signal that is given early
in a sequence of aggressive interaction, well before an actual physical fight. If it
were true that type matching is a low-level threat signal, it generally would not
be an appropriate signal when the intruder is already in the middle of the
territory, having boldly gone where he really should not have. In other words,
in the face of such a high-intensity threat, the subject should not be expected
to use a conventional signal that generally functions as a long-distance, early-
stage signal across territory boundaries.
We therefore carried out a two-stage experiment to assess the reliability of
type matching early in the interaction in predicting higher-level threats and
eventual attack. In such an experiment, as proposed first by Beecher, Camp-
bell, Burt, and colleagues (2000), the playback of a matchable song would
start at the boundary in the first stage, eliciting a type match or a nonmatch.
At the second stage the playback would be moved immediately to inside the
territory of the subject, a clear escalation. Adding to the mix a taxidermic
mount that is coupled with the playback at the center would also allow the
subjects to attack the intruder. With this two-stage design, we can then ask
whether type matching early in the trial will result in higher levels of aggressive
signaling and attack.
48 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Our prediction was that type matchers at the boundary would be more
aggressive at the center, giving more soft songs and wing waves (fluttering
one wing at a time such that the bird does not actually take off from the
branch) and attacking at a higher rate. This prediction, however, had to be
more refined given what we already knew about type matching. First, we knew
from previous experiments that birds sometimes switch off type in response to
being type matched (Burt et al., 2001). This could happen for a variety of rea-
sons, including the unwillingness of the bird to engage in a fight just then
because of conflicting activities such as feeding and mate guarding or because
of assessing the opponent as a higher-quality male than himself. Whatever the
cause, if a bird initially type matches but switches off type immediately after
the playback moves to center, he is predicted to not show high levels of aggres-
sion. On the flip side, a bird might fail to type match the playback at the
boundary for reasons other than unwillingness to escalate—the bird might
perceive the boundary playback as simply not a serious enough threat, or he
might be too busy with other activities (such as feeding young). However,
we predicted that these birds would switch to a type match once the threat
became unambiguous, that is, when the playback moved to the center. Taking
into account these possibilities we predicted that birds who (1) type matched
at the boundary and stayed on type when the playback moved to center or
(2) did not type match at the boundary but type matched as soon as the play-
back moved to the center would escalate to high-intensity threat signals and
eventually attack. We called these birds type matchers. In contrast, we pre-
dicted that birds who type matched at the boundary but switched off type
once the playback moved to the center (“switchers”), that is, who deescalated
by singing conventions, would behave less aggressively. Finally, birds that
did not type match the playback (“nonmatchers”) either at the boundary or
at the center were also predicted to show lower levels of aggression. These pre-
dictions are summarized in Figure 2.8.
The results were largely in line with our predictions. As predicted, we found
that type matchers were more aggressive than either the switchers or the non-
matchers, and all but two of them (15 out of 17, 88.2%) ended up attacking
the mount. In contrast, attack frequencies for the switchers and nonmatchers
were 50 percent and 52.2 percent, respectively, a significant difference. This
was the first clear evidence that type matching as an early threat signal is pre-
dictive of an attack later on.
There were, however, some notable exceptions. Mentioned above was the
fact that exactly half of switchers (four out of eight) also ended up attacking
the mount. We predicted that switchers would only include birds that de-
escalated after an initial threat; that is, they would be “bluffers” in the sense
FRIENDS AND ENEMIES 49
Figure 2.8. The hierarchical signaling hypothesis in the context of the experiment of
Akçay et al. (2013). The design has two phases. In the first phase, song is played
from the subject’s territory boundary. In the second (escalation) phase, the playback
switches to the center of the territory and the mount is revealed. When the bird hears
a song from his territory boundary, he may or may not consider it seriously threat-
ening. If he does consider it threatening, according to the hierarchical signaling
hypothesis he should type match and should continue to type match once the esca-
lation occurs (breaking off the type match is considered a deescalation). If the bird
does not consider song from the boundary threatening enough to warrant a type
match, by hypothesis he will certainly consider the escalation into his territory
threatening, and he should type match at this point, that is, soon after the escalation.
The common denominator of these two patterns is that the bird should type match in
the short period following escalation. The results are consistent with this prediction
with the interesting exception of “undersignalers”—birds who attack with little or no
signaling (discussed in text).
that they would threaten but not back up their threat with action once the
opponent escalates. We were wrong on this count—half the birds we consid-
ered switchers were actually fast-escalating birds who, after type matching at
the boundary, switched off type but directly into soft song and wing waves
and ended up attacking the mount. All in all, only 4 birds out of a total of
48 subjects (8.3%) could be considered bluffers, that is, birds that type
matched initially but failed to back up the threat signal with action
subsequently.
Another notable exception was that about half of the nonmatchers (12 out
of 23 birds) also attacked the mount. This result suggests that sometimes song
sparrows just forgo the early threat signals and go for an attack. Indeed, there
were even some birds who attacked without a single soft song or wing wave,
both signals of aggression we found to be independently predictive of attack.
In other words, some birds seemed to forgo aggressive signaling, opting for a
strategy of undersignaling. The presence of these “strong, silent types” is
50 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
puzzling all the more because the signals in question—type matching, soft
song, and wing waves—are all cheap to produce. Nonetheless, it seems clear
that a good portion of birds that are otherwise very aggressive and attack the
mount in this experiment were not engaged in extensive signaling. Under-
signaling in these cases would decrease the reliability of the signal in question.
But here, the problem is not so much deceptive signaling (i.e., signaling
threat without the intention of backing it up with action), but the reverse
problem of not giving threat signals when the aggressive intent in fact is there.
One possibility is that these birds rely mostly on other behaviors to warn the
opponent of an impending attack, such as a direct and quick flight towards
it, flying around the opponent intently, and so on. These behaviors would
not be considered signals per se because they did not evolve for a signal func-
tion (Otte, 1974) but nevertheless could provide information to the receiver
regarding the likelihood of an impending attack.
In summary, these results indicate that type matching is an early threat sig-
nal that would be followed with higher-level threat signals such as soft songs
and wing waves. It would therefore seem to be beneficial for a bird to be able
to type match his opponents. To do that, however, the birds need to share at
least one song type, and, presumably, the more songs a bird shares with likely
neighbors the better. This brings us to the other and equally important aspect
of song that we studied: song learning.
songs. However, birds do not change their song repertoires after their first
breeding season (Nordby et al., 2002).
Rule 3—Copy song types completely and precisely. Young song sparrows often
develop near-perfect copies of the songs of their older neighbors. It is this fact
that first made us realize that we could trace song learning in the field (when
we began our field studies, almost all studies of song learning had been done
in the laboratory). The song similarities can be striking, with the differences
between tutor and student often being no greater than one normally sees in
repetitions of the same song sung by one bird. In contrast, laboratory studies
by Peter Marler and Susan Peters (1987, 1988) using recorded songs as the
tutor stimuli found that while song sparrows copy song elements quite pre-
cisely, they frequently combine elements from different songs to form
“hybrid” song types—songs made up of parts of different song types. That
is, they often copy song elements but use them to improvise new song types.
We are still not sure to what extent this difference reflects differences in
laboratory and field song-learning conditions (which of course are substantial),
as opposed to differences in the eastern and western populations of song spar-
rows. The substantial differences in patterns of song learning shown by differ-
ent songbird species, and in some cases by different populations of the same
species (Brenowitz & Beecher, 2005), indicate that population differences
cannot be dismissed as a possible explanation here. Indeed we have argued
elsewhere that only careful common garden experiments can support or elimi-
nate this hypothesis (Beecher, 2008).
Rule 4—Learn the songs of multiple birds. Usually it takes three to five song
tutors to account for the young bird’s entire repertoire of eight or nine song types.
For example, in Cully Nordby and colleagues’ study (Nordby et al., 1999), only 1
of the 41 subjects appeared to be a song “clone” of a single older bird. In the study
by Çağlar Akçay and colleagues (Akçay, Campbell, et al., in preparation), only 1
of 43 subjects was a song clone. Nevertheless, about half the time the young bird
learns the majority of his songs from one “primary” tutor (see Rule 7).
Rule 5—Learn from your neighbors. A bird’s song tutors almost always turn
out to have been neighbors in the young bird’s hatching summer, and, if they
survived the winter, the following spring (the young bird’s first breeding sea-
son) as well. The young bird usually establishes his territory within the
territorial range of his song tutors, often replacing a tutor that died. In the
cases where the young bird does not establish his territory among his tutor-
neighbors, the evidence suggests that he did not because he could not—
because none of his tutors had died or because other young birds moved into
this area. An example is shown in Figure 2.9 (note that it contains a larger-
than-normal level of overwinter attrition of adult tutors).
FRIENDS AND ENEMIES 53
Figure 2.9. Diagram indicating song learning and territory establishment. (a) Territo-
ries of AIRM’s tutors in his natal summer (1992). Adult birds (potential tutors) are
shown by their color bands (four-letter codes) and their territories by dotted lines. The
identified tutors of AIRM and their territories are shown by the dark hatching. (b)
Territory of AIRM the following spring (1993), overlaid on the territories of summer
1992. Adult males who did not survive the winter are crossed out. Of the 13 adult
birds shown, 8 out of 13 did not survive the winter; four out of AIRM’s five tutors did
not survive the winter. (This is an unusually high mortality rate—overwinter survival
is typically 60 to 70%.) Note that AIRM established his territory in an area overlap-
ping the former territories of three out of the four deceased tutors and next to his one
surviving tutor (OGGM). The young bird shared songs with the surviving tutor and
with other young birds that moved into that area as they had similarly learned songs of
the area. (From Nordby et al., 1999. Reprinted by permission of Oxford University
Press.)
Rule 6—Preferentially learn or retain song types of tutors surviving to your first
breeding season. Birds often have song types that can be traced to tutors that
were alive in the young bird’s natal summer but died before the next breeding
season. Nevertheless, they generally retain more songs of tutors who survive
into the next breeding season than of tutors who do not. We refer to this late
learning as late influence because it may not be de novo learning—these songs
could have been memorized in the natal summer and retained because the bird
continues to hear them the following autumn or spring. This would be the
pattern hypothesized as typical by Douglas Nelson and Marler (Nelson,
1992; Nelson & Marler, 1994)—the young bird memorizes songs during a
sensitive period in the natal summer and the following spring, retains some
of these songs, and drops others on the basis of his social interactions with
his territorial neighbors (“selective attrition”). We have recently compared
the song repertoires of young song sparrows in the plastic song phase (late
winter, early spring) and crystallized song phases and found that they do
54 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
indeed retain songs that are more similar to those of their springtime territorial
neighbors, while dropping some songs that are less similar (Nordby et al.,
2007).
Rule 7—Pick a best tutor. Although the birds learn from multiple tutors
(Rule 4 above), not all tutors contribute to the final repertoire of the bird
equally. In rare cases, as mentioned above, the tutee’s repertoire is a complete
clone of one particular older bird. In other cases, the best tutor contributes
only slightly more than the rest of the tutors and the repertoire is more or less
made up evenly of songs from different tutors. But in most cases, the reper-
toire of the bird is skewed towards one particular tutor, who often is a neigh-
bor. Nordby and colleagues (1999) found that on average half of the songs
in a tutee’s repertoire comes from the best, or primary, tutor. The best tutor
is usually either a direct or once-removed neighbor that has survived into the
first spring of the tutee.
Rule 8—Preferentially learn tutor-shared songs. As noted earlier, in our field
population neighbors typically share a portion of their song repertoires, on
average about two to four of their eight or nine song types. We have found
that the young bird preferentially learns (or retains) song types shared by two
or more of his tutors (Beecher, Campbell, & Stoddard, 1994; Nordby et al.,
2000, 2001). There are several possible reasons that shared song types might
be particularly salient, including (1) these types are heard more than unshared
song types, (2) the “same song” is being sung by several birds, and (3) they are
heard more often in countersinging interactions than are unshared songs. We
consider the last possibility further below.
One possible function of the learning preference for tutor-shared songs is
that it represents a bet-hedging strategy to guarantee that the young bird has
song types he will share with his neighbors in his first breeding season. If
instead the bird learned tutor-unique songs, he would have songs specialized
for these particular tutor-neighbors (i.e., would share these songs with one
neighbor only). But these specialized songs would be good only until the tutor
died or moved, whereas a shared song would be good until all the birds having
it in the neighborhood died or moved, and probably even longer because other
young birds moving into the area would also preferentially learn shared types.
Rule 9—Individualize your song repertoire. The rules so far can be inter-
preted to fit the following overall rule: Learn songs that you will share with your
neighbors in your first breeding season. There is, however, an important excep-
tion to that rule (Nordby et al., 2007). In the transition from plastic song to
final crystallized song, the young bird often modifies a song so that it actually
becomes a poorer match to the model song of the putative tutor and to similar
songs of his present neighbors (who may or may not include the tutor).
FRIENDS AND ENEMIES 55
We interpret this as the bird’s “individualizing” his song, much like a pop
singer putting his or her own personal touch on an old standard. The song
may still be perceived by the birds as a shared song (even if it perhaps no
longer meets our criteria for a shared song), while at the same time being per-
ceived as his particular version of that song type. Thus the bird gets to have
songs that are both shared with his neighbors and yet unique to him. Our
many playback experiments and lab perception experiments (e.g., Stoddard
et al., 1992; Horning et al., 1993; Beecher, Campbell, & Burt, 1994) have
indicated that birds can discriminate among rather different versions of one
particular song type while recognizing their similarity. Thus individualizing a
song, as song sparrows often do, may simply stamp the song as the bird’s
own (strengthening individual distinctiveness) while maintaining his ability
to use it as a shared song in the communication system.
Rule 10—Social interaction is crucial for song learning. There is ample evi-
dence from our lab studies of song learning and from many others as well that
song learning is enhanced if the young bird experiences social stimulation
from live singing birds; indeed these “live tutors” are generally much more
effective than simple playback of recorded song (see review in Beecher,
2008). In several of our lab studies with live tutors, we found that social inter-
action was critical but that the tutee did not necessarily need to directly inter-
act with the tutor or even see him (Nordby et al., 2000, 2001; Beecher et al.,
2007). In these experiments birds often learned as well or even better from
tutors they could hear but not see and from tutors who interacted not with
them but with some other bird. That song learning might require a social
interaction context without necessarily involving direct interaction between
tutee and tutor was confirmed in a field experiment—we found that young song
sparrows in the song-learning phase found playback simulating an interaction
between two adult singers much more attractive than playback simulating a solo
singer (Templeton et al., 2009). In further field experiments, we found that
adult song sparrows are surprisingly tolerant of young, recently fledged birds,
who would often sit close to the adult bird while it interacted with a simulated
intruder (mount plus playback; Templeton, Campbell, et al., 2012).
between the tutee and tutors as well as between potential tutors matter, the
nature of the interactions that can be studied in the lab is very narrow and
inherently unnatural. For instance, in the field, a young bird can simply
move off to get away from an escalating situation, whereas in the lab he is
stuck in a cage. Therefore, the nature of social interactions is best examined
in the field.
One question we are currently pursuing is the question of why song spar-
rows choose one particular male as their primary tutor and why they choose
this particular individual rather than another. In other words, why is the rep-
ertoire of the young song sparrows so highly skewed towards a single male,
and what makes that male special?
One hypothesis is that birds skew their repertoire towards the primary tutor
because it helps them negotiate their boundaries with this particular male.
Establishing a territory is a costly affair, which usually takes persistence on
the part of the challenger (Arcese, 1987, 1989), and once a bird establishes a
territory the boundaries still need to be negotiated. In principle, any negotia-
tions with a neighbor may be costly, but some neighbors might pose a particu-
larly strong challenge because they are more aggressive. Indeed, there is
evidence that in song sparrows (as in other animals) there are individual differ-
ences in aggression that are stable over time (Hyman et al., 2004; Akçay et al.,
2013), and neighbors respond more strongly towards neighbors with more
aggressive personalities (Hyman & Hughes, 2006).
Aggression may have several effects on song learning. Most simply, a young
bird establishing his territory may have to engage in more interactions with an
aggressive neighbor and as a result may learn his songs simply as a by-product.
Alternatively, learning the songs from an aggressive neighbor may be beneficial
for the young bird. Recall that song sparrows possess a complex long-range sig-
naling system that relies on using shared songs in aggressive interactions before
these escalate into close-range interactions that may involve physical fights. If
it is true that some neighbors are more aggressive than others, it may be ben-
eficial for a young bird to optimize his repertoire for use against these neigh-
bors by learning his songs primarily from these males. Under this hypothesis,
aggressive tutors are predicted to be better tutors.
A second, alternative hypothesis is that birds choose their tutors not based
on their aggressiveness but rather on the basis of their dear enemy potential
(Akçay et al., 2009, 2010). Under this hypothesis, tutees and primary tutors
are setting up an (at least partially) cooperative relationship that may benefit
each of them, and sharing songs facilitates their coordination. In other words,
tutees learn their songs not from their “nasty neighbors” who are particularly
aggressive towards them but from neighbors with whom they are setting up
FRIENDS AND ENEMIES 57
a dear enemy relationship. This hypothesis might be termed the Mr. Chips
hypothesis after the beloved schoolteacher in the movie Goodbye, Mr. Chips.
A cooperative relationship between a tutor and a tutee should entail the
tutor and tutee showing reduced aggression towards each other and perhaps
even engaging in cooperative territory defense. We have found that song shar-
ing in our population is correlated positively with territory tenure in song spar-
rows (Beecher, Campbell, & Nordby, 2000), suggesting that there is indeed
potential for a cooperative relationship between a tutee and his primary tutor.
To the best of our knowledge, however, no one has tested this hypothesis in
song sparrows or any other songbird.
We are currently in the process of testing these two hypotheses regarding
the role of social factors in tutor choice. Our preliminary results suggest that
the aggression hypothesis is not supported in song sparrows. In a field study
where we quantified stable individual differences in aggression (i.e., “aggressive
personality”) of almost half of the potential tutors in our study site, we found
no effect of tutors’ aggression on whether or not they were selected as tutees by
the young males establishing their territories that year (Akçay, Campbell, et
al., in preparation). This result suggests that aggression does not play a signifi-
cant role in tutor choice of song sparrows. We are also planning experiments
to test the Mr. Chips hypothesis.
CONCLUSION
Song sparrows have proved themselves a fruitful model system for investi-
gating central questions in animal communication: those of reliability, social
dynamics, and development. In this chapter we have tried to integrate the
various lines of research from our laboratory on this fascinating system. We
have gained many insights into the function and development of song
repertoires in song sparrows and see many more fruitful avenues of research
opening up.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This research has been supported by the National Science Foundation. We
give special thanks to Discovery Park for hosting our field research.
Searcy, W. A., R. C. Anderson, & S. Nowicki. (2006). Bird song as a signal of aggres-
sive intent. Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 60, 234–241.
Smith, J. N. M. (1984). Territory size, inheritance, and fitness in the song sparrow.
American Zoologist, 24, A103–A103.
Smith, J. N. M., L. F. Keller, A. B. Marr, & P. Arcese. (2005). Biology of Small
Populations: The Song Sparrows of Mandarte Island. New York: Oxford Univer-
sity Press.
Smith, J. N. M. & R. Zach. (1979). Heritability of some morphological characters in
a song sparrow population. Evolution, 33, 460–467.
Stoddard, P. K., M. D. Beecher, C. L. Horning, & S. E. Campbell. (1991). Recogni-
tion of individual neighbors by song in the song sparrow, a species with song
repertoires. Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 29, 211–215.
Stoddard, P. K., M. D. Beecher, C. L. Horning, & S. E. Campbell. (1992). Song type
matching in the song sparrow. Canadian Journal of Zoology, 70, 1440–1444.
Temeles, E. J. (1994). The role of neighbors in territorial systems: When are they
“dear enemies”? Animal Behaviour, 47, 339–350.
Templeton, C. N., Ç. Akçay, S. E. Campbell, & M. D. Beecher. (2009.) Juvenile
sparrows preferentially eavesdrop on adult song interactions. Proceedings of
the Royal Society of London, B, 277, 447–453.
Templeton, C. N., J. M. Burt, S. E. Campbell, K. Lent, E. A. Brenowitz, & M. D.
Beecher. (2012). Immediate and long-term effects of testosterone on song plas-
ticity and learning in juvenile song sparrows. Behavioural Processes, 90,
254–260.
Templeton, C. N., S. E. Campbell, & M. D. Beecher. (2012.) Territorial song spar-
rows tolerate juveniles during the early song-learning phase. Behavioral Ecology,
23, 916–923.
Templeton, C. N., V. A. Reed, S. E. Campbell, & M. D. Beecher. (2012). Spatial
movements and social networks in juvenile male song sparrows. Behavioral
Ecology, 23, 141–152.
Weeden, J. S. & J. B. Falls. (1959). Differential responses of male ovenbirds to
recorded songs of neighboring and more distant individuals. Auk, 76,
343–351.
Westneat, D. F. & I. R. K. Stewart. (2003). Extra-pair paternity in birds: Causes, cor-
relates and conflict. Annual Review of Ecology, Evolution, and Systematics, 34,
365–396.
This page intentionally left blank
3
INTRODUCTION
In this chapter, we present two case studies based on our work together on spi-
der communication behaviors. We will review how a series of fortuitous dis-
coveries led to a better understanding of the role of communication in
species recognition and mate choice and resulted in novel technologies for
the study of animal behavior. To put things in perspective, it is important to
consider the time when some of this research began. Thirty-five years ago,
when George Uetz was finishing graduate school, computers were large enti-
ties that occupied rooms, sometimes whole buildings, and could only be
accessed remotely via coded punch cards or teletype terminals. There were
no easily available video recording devices, only audio tape recorders. Impor-
tantly, the study of behavior was different, and most invertebrate animal
behavior was assumed to be entirely ‘hard-wired’ and unchanged by experi-
ence, clearly unlike the complex behaviors exhibited by the better-studied
birds and mammals. As can be seen from this chapter, experimental animal
64 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
behavior research has benefitted from the rapid evolution of technology, and
ideas about invertebrate behavior have changed dramatically over time.
Figure 3.1a. Male wolf spider, Schizocosa ocreata. (Photo source George Uetz)
A TALE OF TWO SPIDERS 65
Figure 3.1b. Male wolf spider, Schizocosa rovneri. (Photo source George Uetz)
tufts that later emerged parasites. He suggested that this might be a case of
parasitic castration, where the internal parasite (a mermithid nematode) sup-
pressed development of the gonads and subsequent expression of adult secon-
dary sex characteristics. If so, this would represent an unusually high rate of
parasitic infection, worthy of further study. However, after dissection of many
specimens revealing no parasites, a different approach was needed, and exami-
nation of the behavior of live specimens was in order.
European arachnologists studying wolf spiders had introduced the concept
of ethospecies (Hollander et al., 1973; Hollander & Dijkstra, 1974), to iden-
tify species populations that were indistinguishable morphologically but repro-
ductively isolated by behavior during courtship and mating (commonly
known as a form of cryptic species—see Bickford et al., 2007). Spiders from
our two different populations—S. ocreata from Ohio with brush-legged males
Figure 3.2. Courtship behavior responses of male wolf spiders (left) and receptivity
responses of female wolf spiders (right) to members of the same species (conspe-
cifics) or the other species (heterospecifics). (a) S. ocreata, (b) S. rovneri. (Redrawn
from data in Uetz & Denterlein, 1979; Stratton & Uetz, 1981)
A TALE OF TWO SPIDERS 67
and the unknown species from Illinois without leg tufts—were paired in mat-
ing trials. Studies with undergrad student Gerri Denterlein found that males
from each population exhibited courtship with females from either population,
as well as their silk alone, but females were only receptive to males from their
own population. Despite having identical genitalia, members of these two popu-
lations did not interbreed (Figure 3.2), and observations of striking differences in
male courtship behavior suggested the likelihood of behavioral reproductive isola-
tion (Uetz & Denterlein, 1979). Based on these behavioral differences, a new spe-
cies, Schizocosa rovneri (Figure 3.1b), was described (Uetz & Dondale, 1979).
However, these findings raised an important question—if spiders from dif-
ferent populations do not mate, how could we test the hypothesis that the
behavioral barrier, and not some other mechanism (e.g., gametic incompatibil-
ity or developmental failure) was the cause? Studies with graduate student Gail
Stratton tested this hypothesis by anesthetizing females and allowing males to
mate with females from each population. Cross-species and within-species mat-
ings had similar results—females from each type of mating produced egg sacs
with equal frequency, and spiderlings emerged from those egg sacs, confirming
gametic and developmental compatibility (Stratton & Uetz, 1981, 1983).
Moreover, subsequent interbreeding studies demonstrated that the behaviors
characteristic of each species (the “double tap” and “jerky tap” of S. ocreata,
the “body bounce” of S. rovneri) were heritable and sorted via crosses into Men-
delian inheritance patterns (Stratton & Uetz, 1986). These studies were among
the first to demonstrate that behavior by itself could constitute a premating spe-
cies isolating mechanism, and given that S. ocreata and S. rovneri have overlap-
ping geographic ranges and nearly identical habitats, suggested that behavior
might be a driving force in sympatric speciation. Indeed, subsequent to these
early studies, Gail Stratton has gone on to discover and describe several more
cryptic ethospecies in the S. ocreata clade (Stratton, 1991, 1997, 2005).
with interesting results. She tested whether having tufts affected male-male
interactions by placing males in an arena for 24 hours to allow them to estab-
lish a dominance hierarchy (Aspey, 1977a, 1977b), then introducing a
female. She compared results of that experiment to mating trials with males
and females introduced simultaneously. There were no differences in mating
success associated with the presence of tufts, nor was there any evidence of
male-male conflict or dominance, suggesting the absence of intrasexual selec-
tion based on male tufts. However, something else was apparent—when males
were placed together in an arena with a female, 79 percent of females mated
with the male that initiated courtship first, regardless of whether that male
had tufts. Because shaved and unshaved males were equally likely to be the
first to court (53% versus 47%, respectively), there was a significant female
bias for the first male (Scheffer et al., 1996). These results pointed out a poten-
tial problem of research bias inherent in many experimental studies of mate
choice, which arises when a female is offered two males that initiate courtship
asynchronously (see Clark & Uetz, 1993; Schwartz et al., 2001).
Scheffer’s findings caused us to reconsider the behavior differences between
S. ocreata and S. rovneri, and we conducted additional experimental studies. In
one experiment, we compared the responses of females of S. ocreata and S. rov-
neri to isolated courtship cues from male courtship. Interestingly, female S.
rovneri showed high levels of receptivity to seismic vibration cues alone but
were far less receptive to isolated visual cues from males. In contrast, female
S. ocreata responded equally to vibration or visual cues from males. Seismic
communication was necessary and sufficient for S. rovneri, but for S. ocreata,
vibratory and visual cues were interchangeable (Scheffer et al., 1996). How-
ever, male S. ocreata produce seismic and visual signals simultaneously, as a
multimodal signal, while S. rovneri signals are clearly unimodal. These find-
ings raised questions about the evolution of divergent signaling behaviors in
these closely related species. Because seismic communication is characteristic
of all nearctic wolf spiders (Rovner, 1975), visual communication and leg tufts
in S. ocreata must be derived characters.
To test whether microhabitat might play a role in these differences, we
measured seismic signal transmission over distance in the microhabitats where
these species occur in the field, using a crude measure—amplitude of vibration
produced by a standardized pencil drop. Results suggested that the loose leaf
litter in which S. ocreata was found tended to attenuate vibration more quickly
and over shorter distances than did the compacted floodplain litter microhabi-
tat of S. rovneri. We hypothesized that leg tufts might enable S. ocreata males to
communicate with females under circumstances where seismic signals might not
be detected. Consequently, we compared responses of female S. ocreata to shaved
A TALE OF TWO SPIDERS 69
Figure 3.3. Receptivity responses of female S. ocreata to control (intact) males and
males whose tufts were removed by shaving in arenas allowing both visual and seis-
mic vibration signals or visual signals alone (Redrawn from data in Scheffer et al.,
1996)
and intact males under conditions where they could perceive both visual and
vibration cues together versus visual cues alone. With multimodal cues, females
showed no difference in response to shaved males or those with intact tufts,
but when only visual cues were present, female response to shaved males was sig-
nificantly lower (Figure 3.3). These findings suggested that leg tufts function to
increase signal efficacy in a complex litter environment (Scheffer et al., 1996).
dimorphic males (Peckham & Peckham, 1889, 1890; Painter, 1913). The
dimorphic jumping spider (also known under the name vittata) is a jumping
spider commonly found in the leaf litter and forest-edge vegetation throughout
the eastern and midwestern United States. The two male morphs of this species
differ strikingly in both morphology and behavior (Peckham & Peckham 1889,
1890; Emerton, 1961; Painter, 1913, 1914; Barnes, 1955; Jackson, 1982;
Clark, 1994). The males have been described as variable in coloration: the
tufted morph (Figure 3.4a) has a black-colored body with three tufts of setae
above the eyes in the center of the anterior prosoma (the anterior portion of
the body of spiders that lacks segmentation), the legs are pale and white in col-
oration (except for a black band near the tips of the first pair of legs) and the
pedipalps (the second pair of head appendages of spiders) are generally entirely
black; in the gray morph (Figure 3.4b) the body has dark chevrons over a light
ground color, the sides of the abdomen and legs are striped (Barnes, 1955; Kas-
ton, 1972). The gray morph can also be distinguished from the tufted morph by
the absence of tufts above the eyes, instead having a light-colored color band on
the anterior cephalothorax (the fused head and thorax of spiders) above the
median and lateral eyes and bright yellow- to orange-colored pedipalps. Females
of the species are distinctly different from either of the males, being larger and
with cryptically colored body color patterns and a conspicuous white stripe
below the anterior eyes; they lack the tufts and brightly colored pedipalps.
However, in addition to differences in appearance, males of M. inclemens
also exhibit polyphenism (multiple discrete behavioral forms arising from a
single genotype) in courtship behavior (Clark, 1994). After orienting to a
female, the tufted morph will stand up (or stilt) with the first pair of legs held
high above the prosoma and wave them to and fro, cyclically (Figure 3.5a). In
contrast, the gray male will typically approach the female with its body low-
ered to the substratum, at the same time dropping legs I and II and assuming
a prone or crouched position (where the first two pair of legs are pointed for-
ward so that the tips touch in front in a V formation, bent at right angles).
After assuming this prone position, the gray morph moves back and forth in
a semicircle before the female, sometimes advancing, sometimes receding (Fig-
ure 3.5b). While males are behaviorally distinct during the initial phase of the
courtship sequence, the motor patterns of the two morphs converge and they
behave identically during the subsequent phase of the courtship sequence. At
this point, both males raise their front legs and move together and apart
repeatedly while at the same time zig-zagging laterally side to side as they
approach the female to initiate copulation. This zig-zag dance display is typical
of many jumping spider species, and it has been suggested that it allows female
mate assessment.
Figure 3.4. Maevia inclemens jumping spiders. (a) Male tufted morph, (b) male gray
morph. (Photos by Dave Clark)
Figure 3.5a. Behavior diagram for male courtship in Maevia inclemens jumping spiders,
tufted morph. (Redrawn from data in Clark, 1994)
72
Figure 3.5b. Behavior diagram for male courtship in Maevia inclemens jumping spiders,
gray morph. (Redrawn from data in Clark, 1994)
73
74 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 3.6b. Frequency of behaviors exhibited in response to live prey insects (dark
bars) or video images of prey (light bars). (Redrawn from data in Clark & Uetz, 1990)
76 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 3.6c. Frequency of response behaviors to prey (dark bars) conspecifics (hatched
bars), and other predatory spiders (light bars). (Redrawn from data in Clark & Uetz,
1990)
morph began courtship first but showed no preference when video male
morphs courted simultaneously (Clark & Uetz, 1992). This finding led to fur-
ther studies that revealed the polyphenism of Maevia to represent two alterna-
tive male courtship tactics that function to attract female attention at different
distances (Clark, 1994; Clark & Uetz, 1993; Clark & Biesiadecki, 2002)
(Figures 3.7a and 3.7b).
Figure 3.7a. Phase I courtship distance of male M. inclemens relative to the female.
Angle subtended by the courtship stance. (Redrawn from data in Clark & Uetz, 1993)
Figure 3.7b. Graphic model of perceived male area as a function of distance from the
female. (Redrawn from data in Clark & Uetz, 1993)
78 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 3.8a. Responses of female S. ocreata to manipulation of male tufts in video play-
back studies. Receptivity of female S. ocreata to both live males (dark bars) and video
males (gray bars) with varied tuft sizes (illustrated above graph). (Redrawn from data in
Uetz, 2000)
80 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 3.8b. Female receptivity response (%) to video males with varying types of asym-
metry (illustrated above graph). (Redrawn from data in Uetz & Smith, 1999)
(see Polak & Starmer, 2001; Polak, 2003). Male spiders that lose a leg as juve-
niles are capable of regeneration (Uetz et al., 1996; Wrinn & Uetz, 2007), and
many adult male S. ocreata with regenerated forelegs had smaller or missing
tufts. We tested whether this asymmetry had an impact on sexual selection
by comparing the success of asymmetric males (both naturally occurring and
A TALE OF TWO SPIDERS 81
in male use of visual courtship signals and the presence of leg pigmentation and
tufts (McClintock & Uetz, 1996; Hebets & Uetz, 2000). In species that exhibit
visual displays and leg ornamentation (S. ocreata and S. crassipes), digital removal
of tufts decreased female receptivity responses. In two species that have nonvisu-
ally displaying, nonornamented males, S. duplex and S. uetzi, female receptivity
did not increase when tufts were added to conspecific males (Hebets & Uetz,
2000). In contrast, female S. rovneri were more receptive to video images of con-
specific males with digitally added tufts (McClintock & Uetz, 1996). In another,
somewhat intermediate species—with a visual display and foreleg pigmentation
(S. stridulans)—the addition of foreleg tufts increased female receptivity. These
results become even more interesting when placed in the context of phylogenetic
relationships within the genus Schizocosa, as it appears that leg tufts have evolved
multiple times independently but may have been secondarily lost in some mem-
bers of the ocreata clade (McClintock & Uetz, 1996; Stratton, 2005; Hebets &
Vink, 2007). If digital addition of tufts to S. rovneri increases female receptivity,
as McClintock and Uetz (1996) found, males of this species may have secondarily
lost the trait, but females have retained the preference (Stratton, 2005). We now
know from a variety of studies that tufts and leg pigmentation play an important
role in female mate choice in a number of Schizocosa species as both condition
indicators and attention-altering traits (Uetz et al., 2002; Hebets, 2005).
The combination of video and audio playback of spider courtship has
enabled a unique form of virtual evolution experiment. In these experiments,
a speaker mounted below the substrate in front of the video screen was used
to play back synchronized seismic signals along with videos to create multimo-
dal stimuli. By combining video of S. ocreata with seismic playback of S. rov-
neri—and vice versa—we created multimodal digital chimeras to test against
controls in cue-conflict experiments to see which elements are essential in spe-
cies recognition (Uetz & Roberts, 2002). For S. rovneri, seismic signals are the
essential element, as females responded to visual cues from either species as
long as conspecific seismic signals were present. However, for S. ocreata only
the correct combination of conspecific visual and seismic signals elicited
female receptivity (Figure 3.10).
Many animal behavior studies have explored the trade-off between sexual
selection favoring larger male ornaments and natural selection from predators
acting against such decorations (see Volume 2, Chapter 5). Video digitization
and playback has allowed us to ask the following questions: Would predation
rates be lower is males had no tufts? or If larger tufts are attractive to females, what
keeps them from evolving to be even larger? and answer them with virtual evolu-
tion experiments. Andy Roberts’s doctoral research examined these questions,
using latency of orientation response of predatory American toads (Bufo
A TALE OF TWO SPIDERS 83
Figure 3.10. Response of female S. ocreata and S. rovneri (mean receptivity score) to
male signals in video/vibration cue-conflict experiments. (Redrawn from data in
Uetz & Roberts, 2002)
americanus) to virtual courting S. ocreata male stimuli with varying tuft size and
latency of orientation by female S. ocreata to the same stimuli as an index of con-
specific detection. When compared with control stimuli representing the popula-
tion average, elimination of tufts had no significant effect on predator detection
but increased orientation latency of females. Increasing the size of male tufts
had no effect on female detection but did significantly reduce detection latency
for predatory toads (Figure 3.11). Results suggest that for a courting male spider
of a given size and vigor level, variation in the expression of a secondary sexual
characteristic alone can incur differential costs and benefits by influencing latency
of detection of visual signals by predators and conspecifics.
Video playback experiments have provided other insights, for example, the
mechanisms underlying foraging behavior and decision making in wolf
84 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
spiders. When he was a graduate student, Matt Persons was interested in how
sensory stimuli affect spider decision making—specifically, how long to stay in
a patch before moving on. He found that sensory cues, even without food
rewards, were enough to influence residence time. Spiders remained longer
in patches with visual cues alone or visual and vibratory cues together over
those with vibratory information alone (Persons & Uetz, 1996). Persons cre-
ated an artificial foraging-patch stimulus chamber with video playback of a
computer digitized, animated image of a cricket. By manipulating prey move-
ment, he found that spiders stayed significantly longer in treatments with
higher levels of cricket locomotor activity and longer when they attacked the
stimulus than when they did not. An analysis of the distribution of spider
patch-residence times indicated that S. ocreata uses a decision rule based on a
fixed probability of leaving (Persons & Uetz, 1997).
A TALE OF TWO SPIDERS 85
Figure 3.11b. Mean latency to approach (dark bars) and attack (light bars). (Redrawn
from data in Roberts & Uetz, 2008)
different perspective, a side view (as seen by other spiders) shows higher
contrast color-spectrum values that are the polar opposite of leaf litter. In
addition, male leg tufts show the highest levels of background contrast.
These findings suggest that the “two-tone” color patterns of S. ocreata wolf
spiders may have evolved to provide both crypsis and contrast at the same
time, depending on the viewing perspective of the receiver (Clark et al.,
2011).
We tested the importance of background contrast using video exemplars of
courting males (with and without leg tufts) superimposed on digital images of
different backgrounds (sunny leaf litter, shady leaf litter, and a featureless
monochromatic gray background) displayed to female spiders on iPod screens
(Figures 3.12a through 3.12c). Females oriented more quickly to males on
lighter backgrounds (litter in sun, monochrome gray) than dark ones (shady
litter) (Figure 3.12d). Males with leg tufts were also more likely to be detected
than those with tufts digitally removed. Latency of females to approach was
also shorter against lighter backgrounds and longest for males without tufts
(Figure 3.12e). Female recognition and receptivity (based on summative dis-
play scores) were greater with males displayed against lighter backgrounds;
males with large tufts had the highest scores (Figure 3.12f). Results suggest
that light levels and visual complexity of the leaf-litter habitat can affect the
potential for detection and recognition of male visual courtship signals by
females, and that male foreleg tufts may serve to increase chances of detection
(and receptivity) in this complex environment (Clark et al., 2011). Ongoing
video playback studies are directed at exploring the role of the cryptic yet
high-contrast color patterns of S. ocreata in detection by visual predators such
as jumping spiders, toads, and birds.
Social Contexts
In the spring, male S. ocreata wolf spiders actively search for mates, and
because they occur at fairly high densities (2–6 spiders/m2), they are likely
to encounter each other or detect each other’s signals. Overlap of the range
of both visual and seismic signals creates a “communication network” and
increases the potential for eavesdropping and mate competition. While
aggressive interactions appear minimal in S. ocreata, mate competition
between males may take a different form, as males might increase mating
success by eavesdropping on others’ behavior and signaling whenever
courtship is detected. We tested whether males initiate courtship themselves
when exposed to video playback of visual signals of other males, but results were
A TALE OF TWO SPIDERS 87
CONCLUDING REMARKS
The case studies of our research narrative illustrate the value of pursuing
interesting discoveries that arouse one’s curiosity as well as tinkering with
88 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
new technologies. Video animations and digital video playback are now rec-
ognized as valuable tools in behavioral studies, as they allow manipulation of
aspects of morphology or behavior while holding others constant and pre-
vent potential interaction between focal and stimulus individuals. Video
playback has been used successfully in experimental studies of numerous
Figure 3.12e. Latency to approach. (Redrawn from data in Uetz et al., 2011)
A TALE OF TWO SPIDERS 89
Figure 3.12f. Mean receptivity score (sum displays). (Redrawn from data in Uetz et al., 2011)
Figure 3.13a. Evidence for eavesdropping and social facilitation of male courtship in
S. ocreata. Males interact with courting male video when on screen. (Redrawn from
data in Clark et al., 2012)
90 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 3.13b. Males exhibit courtship during and after presentation of video stimulus
male. (Redrawn from data in Clark et al., 2012)
Figure 3.13c. Males exhibit signal matching in response to manipulated courtship rates
of male video stimulus. (Redrawn from data in Clark et al., 2012)
A TALE OF TWO SPIDERS 91
Adret, 1997; Ord et al., 2002). There are still more questions to be asked
and more technologies to explore, especially in the interdisciplinary overlap
between animal behavior and neurobiology. For example, Beth Jakob at
the University of Massachusetts is using an eyetracker to follow jumping spi-
der eye movement while spiders view prey and conspecifics on screen. This
technology was developed by Duane Harland and Robert Jackson of the
University of Canterbury, New Zealand and allows examination of the
movement of salticid principal eyes as spiders view a stimulus, much as psy-
chologists use eyetrackers to study human eye movement. Work by Eileen
Hebets at the University of Nebraska on wolf spiders and by Sarah Partan
at Hampshire College on pigeons has combined video playback with audio
playback and live animal communication for multisensory stimuli (Hebets,
2005; Partan et al., 2005). Dave Clark and others have used programmable
and interactive animal robots as stimuli in both the lab and field (Narins et
al., 2005; Fernandez-Juricic et al., 2006; Taylor et al., 2008; Ord & Stamps,
2008, Partan & Larco, 2009; Partan et al., 2010, 2011; Macedonia et al.,
2013), and a number of other researchers have begun to use three-
dimensional holographic stimuli in studies of animal behavior (Malkiel
et al., 2003; Steyer et al., 2012). Given the recent rapid evolution of tech-
nology, we wonder, What future studies might be possible?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Research described in this chapter was supported by the National Science
Foundation over the past more than 20 years through grants BNS-8920013
(GWU and DLC), IBN-9307056 (DLC), IBN-9414239 (GWU), IBN
9906446 (GWU), IBN 0239164/0238854 (GWU and DLC), and IOS-
1026995/1026817 ( GWU and DLC), as well as by the as the University of
Cincinnati and Alma College. We are especially grateful to the undergraduate
and graduate students and colleagues who have participated in these research
projects.
Barnes, R. D. (1955). North American jumping spiders of the genus Maevia. Ameri-
can Museum Novitates, 1746, 1–13.
Bickford, D., D. J. Lohman, N. S. Sodhi, P. K. L. Ng, R. Meier, K. Winker, K. K.
Ingram, & I. Das. (2007). Cryptic species as a window on diversity and con-
servation. Trends in Ecology and Evolution, 22, 148–155.
Clark, D. L. (1994). Sequence analysis of courtship behavior in the dimorphic jump-
ing spider, Maevia inclemens. Journal of Arachnology, 22, 94–107.
Clark, D. L. & B. Biesiadecki. (2002). Mating success and alternative reproductive
strategies of the dimorphic jumping spider, Maevia inclemens (Araneae, Saltici-
dae). Journal of Arachnology, 30, 511–518.
Clark, D. L. & C. Morjan. (2001). Attracting female attention: The evolution of
dimorphic courtship displays in the jumping spider, Maevia inclemens (Ara-
neae: Salticidae). Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 268, 2461–
2465.
Clark, D. L., J. A. Roberts, M. Rector & G. W. Uetz. (2011). Spectral reflectance
properties and visual communication in the wolf spider, Schizocosa ocreata
(Hentz): Simultaneous crypsis and background contrast in visual signals.
Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 65, 1237–1247.
Clark, D. L., J. A. Roberts, & G. W. Uetz. (2012). Eavesdropping and signal match-
ing in visual courtship displays of spiders. Biology Letters, 8, 375–378.
Clark, D. L. & G. W. Uetz. (1990). Video image recognition by the jumping spider
Maevia inclemens. Animal Behaviour, 40, 884–890.
Clark, D. L. & G. W. Uetz. (1992). Morph independent mate selection in a dimor-
phic jumping spider: Demonstration of movement-bias in female choice using
video controlled courtship behaviour. Animal Behaviour, 43, 247–254.
Clark, D. L. & G. W. Uetz. (1993). Signal efficacy and the evolution of male dimor-
phism, Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA, 90, 11954–
11957.
Emerton, J. H. (196l). The Common Spiders of the United States. New York: Dover
Publications.
Endler, J. A. (1991). Variation in the appearance of guppy color patterns to guppies
and their predators under different visual conditions. Vision Research, 31,
587-608.
Endler, J. A. (1993). The color of light in forests and its implications. Ecological
Monographs, 63, 1–27.
Endler, J. A. (2006). Disruptive and cryptic coloration. Proceedings of the Royal Society
of London, B, 273, 2425–2426.
Evans, C. S., L. Evans, & P. Marler. (1993). On the meaning of alarm calls: Func-
tional reference in an avian vocal system. Animal Behaviour, 46, 23–38.
Evans, C. & P. Marler. (1991). One of the uses of video images as social stimuli in
birds: Audience effects on alarm calling. Animal Behaviour, 41, 17–26.
A TALE OF TWO SPIDERS 93
Kaston, B. J. (1972). How to Know the Spiders. Dubuque, IA: Wm. C. Brown Co.
Kodric-Brown, A. & P. Nicoletto. (1997). Repeatability of female choice in the
guppy: Responses to live and videotaped males. Animal Behaviour, 54, 369–
376.
Kodric-Brown, A. & P. Nicoletto. (2001). Age and experience affect female mate
choice in the guppy (Poecilia reticulata). American Naturalist, 157, 316–323.
Macedonia, J. (2001). Habitat light, colour variation, and ultraviolet reflectance in
the Grand Cayman anole, Anolis conspersus. Biological Journal of the Linnean
Society, 73, 299–320.
Macedonia, J. M., Y. Brandt, & D. L. Clark. (2002). Sexual dichromatism and differ-
ential conspicuousness in two populations of common collard lizard (Crotophy-
tus collaris) from Utah and New Mexico, USA. Biological Journal of the Linnean
Society, 77, 67–85.
Macedonia, J. M., D. L. Clark, R. G. Riley, & D. J. Kemp. (2013). Species recogni-
tion of color and motion signals of Anolis graham: Evidence from responses to
lizard robots. Behavioral Ecology, 24, 846–852.
Macedonia, J. M., C. S. Evans, & J. B. Losos. (1994). Male Anolis lizards discriminate
video recorded conspecific and heterospecific displays. Animal Behaviour, 47,
1220–1223.
Macedonia, J. M. & J. A. Stamps. (1994). Species recognition in Anolis grahami (Sau-
ria, Iguanidae): Evidence from responses to video playbacks of conspecific and
heterospecific displays. Ethology, 98, 246–264.
Malkiel, E., J. Sheng, J. Katz, & J. R. Strickler. (2003). The three-dimensional flow
field generated by a feeding calanoid copepod measured using digital hologra-
phy. Journal of Experimental Biology, 206, 3657–3666.
Marchetti, K. (1993). Dark habitats and bright birds illustrate the role of the environ-
ment in species divergence. Nature, 362, 149–152.
McClintock, W. & G. W. Uetz. (1996). Female choice and preexisting bias: visual
cues during courtship in two Schizocosa wolf spiders (Araneae: Lycosidae). Ani-
mal Behaviour, 52, 167-181.
Narins, P. M., D. S. Grabul, K. K. Soma, P. Gaucher, & W. Hödl. (2005). Cross-
modal integration in a dart-poison frog. Proceedings of the National Academy
of the Sciences, USA, 102, 2425–2429.
Ord, T. J., R. A. Peters, C. S. Evans, & A. J. Taylor. (2002). Digital video playback
and visual communication in lizards. Animal Behaviour, 63, 879–890.
Ord, T. J. & J. A. Stamps. (2008). Alert signals enhance animal communication in
“noisy” environments. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, USA,
105, 18830–18835.
Painter, T. S. (1913). On the dimorphism of the males of Maevia vittata. Zoology
Jahrbucher Anatomie, 37, 625–636.
Painter, T. S. (1914). Spermatogenesis in spiders. Zoology Jahrbucher Anatomie, 38,
509–576.
A TALE OF TWO SPIDERS 95
Wrinn, K. M. & G. W. Uetz. (2007). Impacts of leg loss and regeneration on poten-
tial fitness in a wolf spider (Schizocosa ocreata). Canadian Journal of Zoology, 85,
823–831.
Wrinn, K. M. & G. W. Uetz. (2008). The effects of autotomy and regeneration on
prey capture rate, capture efficiency and sensory detection in Schizocosa ocreata
(Araneae, Lycosidae). Behavioral Ecology, 19, 1282–1288.
4
INTRODUCTION
Why do animals sometimes cooperate when we might expect them to com-
pete fiercely for access to resources? I first saw a long-tailed manakin (Chirox-
iphia linearis, family Pipridae) when I was still an undergraduate. On my
first day in Monteverde, Costa Rica, in what would become my study site,
my friend Nat Wheelwright showed me a pair of male long-tailed manakins
at their dance perch, and we watched the two brilliant red, black, and blue
males do their amazing backwards leapfrog dance over each other for an all-
green female. “Why do they do that?” I asked myself. The question is still a
focus of my research many years later. The cooperative display seems particu-
larly puzzling because these birds have a lek mating system. Lek mating sys-
tems are characterized by four major features (Bradbury, 1981): (1) Males do
not provide resources such as food-rich territories, nesting sites, or paternal
care that are valuable to breeding females. (2) Males aggregate in traditional,
clustered courts for display to females. (3) Females have at least some opportu-
nity to choose among the displaying males, apparently on the basis of their
morphological features (think peacocks) or their courtship displays (think sage
grouse [Centrocercus urophasianus], manakins, or birds of paradise). In many
species, female choice is completely unconstrained—males can do nothing to
coerce a female to stay and mate with them. (4) The variance in mating success
100 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
is often extremely high. That is, some males have incredible mating success
(mating with 100 or more females in a season), while other males have little
or no success in attracting females to their display courts and subsequently
mating with them. Lek mating systems are widely distributed through the ani-
mal kingdom (Höglund & Alatalo, 1995); lek-mating species include bats,
birds in 13 different families, African antelope, iguanas, fish, and insects. In
most taxa, however, lekking is decidedly the minority mating system. Most
African antelope, for example, have more typical polygynous (but not lek)
mating systems, but two or three species form leks. Some of my colleagues
might suppose that the Old World birds of paradise (Paradisaeidae) have the
highest proportion of lek-mating species of any avian family. That is not the
case. Only approximately half the species of birds of paradise have a lek mating
system. Approximately 85 percent of the species in the neotropical manakins
(Pipridae) have a lek mating system, making manakins the most “lekkish”
family of animals by far. In most lek-mating species, including most mana-
kins, males display on individual courts and compete fiercely for mates. Why
then, in the long-tailed manakin, do males form lifelong, cooperative partner-
ships, sing in unison, and dance a coordinated dual-male backwards leapfrog
dance for females (video clip viewable on my website at http://
www.uwyo.edu/dbmcd/mcd.html)? That question has been the central focus
of my research for about 30 years. In this chapter, I will try to describe the
answers my collaborators and I have developed over the years and explore
some of the surprising tangents that have arisen along the way. For me, tan-
gents are the best aspect of my career as an academic—when I began graduate
school I would never have guessed that I would study hybridization in endan-
gered fish (McDonald et al., 2008) or that I would spend two months of a sab-
batical year in Amazonian Brazil telling two Brazilian students, in Portuguese,
that we were living the plot of a novel by the Nobel Prize–winning Colombian
novelist Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
To set the stage for why male long-tailed manakins cooperate, I will begin
with some features of the natural history that mold the behavioral ecology of
manakins in general and of long-tailed manakins in particular. I will then
interject something that almost never appears in scientific publications—the
vicissitudes of how scientists actually do what they do, and how the progress
of a manuscript is rarely an orderly linear process. The next section explores
the extraordinary life history of male long-tailed manakins, which begin their
reproductive stage late in life (almost always at age eight or older) and then
“bop till they drop.” Following that, I explore the phenomenon of male-
male cooperation, balanced with a discussion of the role of competitive inter-
actions. With an exploration of the complex social networks that link males to
STUDYING LIFELONG MALE - MALE PARTNERSHIPS IN A TROPICAL BIRD 101
each other, I bring together many of the threads that have driven my research
over the years. I conclude by arguing that most of science is in the journey, not
in the destination. If we do our job properly, we lay the groundwork for ways
that we, or future scientists, can bring novel threads together to increase our
understanding of the great patchwork of the natural world.
NATURAL HISTORY
Frugivory
Frugivory means eating fruit. Almost all the 51 or so species of manakins
(Remsen et al., 2012; Stiles & Skutch, 1989) eat only or largely fruit. Their
frugivory is crucial to almost everything else about their natural history. For
example, because fruit is a readily available resource year-round in the tropics,
the females are capable of raising the chicks (clutch size is almost always two)
without the aid of a male partner. Males, unable to attract a female by the lure
of their paternal care, instead fall back on self-advertisement via conspicuous
plumage or behavior, or both, to attract females as mating partners. Because
females are free to choose from among the males, and because one female’s
choice does not make the male less valuable for the next female, some males
can become very successful. When some males are much more successful than
others, we talk of a high variance in male mating success. Natural and sexual
selection are stronger when variance is high—that is, the difference in fitness
between those that succeed versus those that do not exerts a powerful force
acting to increase the frequency of those morphological and behavioral traits
that occur in the successful. The extravagant result is the stunning diversity
of plumages and display behaviors in this family of birds (Pipridae). All the
species occur in forest habitats. For most of the species, their habitats are wet
or moist forests, but a few species occur in much drier forests, notably the
long-tailed manakin and the unusual helmeted manakin (Antilophia galeata)
of the cerrado (savannah-like) habitat of central Brazil. Those dry forest habi-
tats play a central role in shaping the major differences in social behavior
between long-tailed manakins on the one hand and helmeted manakins on
the other.
Long-tailed manakins, like many frugivorous tropical birds (Wheelwright
et al., 1984), eat an astonishing variety of different fruits, with different fruit-
ing times, such that fruit are the major component of the feeding list year
round. Nat Wheelwright and colleagues documented 37 species of fruits in
the diet of long-tailed manakins in Monteverde (Wheelwright et al., 1984),
but over the years I collected many species of seeds under their dance perches
that were not on that list and am therefore confident that any complete list
102 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
would be almost twice that large. Occasionally, seasonal scarcity may force
manakins to eat unripe, less nutritious fruit (Foster, 1977). Although females
begin feeding fruit to nestlings at a very early age, availability of insects to pro-
vide extra protein may also be important to producing the healthiest possible
nestlings. The seasonality of fruit availability, along with a flush of insects fol-
lowing the onset of rains in May, likely determines the time of peak nesting
effort by females and therefore the courtship season of the males.
Rica. I studied them at Monteverde, fairly close to the southern limit of their
range, and at an elevation of 1,300 meters, close to the top of their elevational
range. In southwestern Costa Rica, and extending to Colombia and
Venezuela, is the lance-tailed manakin (Chiroxiphia lanceolata). Males in that
species have a shorter extension of the central tail feathers, the feature that
gives both species their English name. Three other species in the genus
Chiroxiphia occur in South America (not until 2012 did I see my “missing”
Chiroxiphia, the Yungas manakin [Chiroxiphia boliviana]). The most different
in appearance is the blue manakin (Chiroxiphia caudata), whose males have
blue undersides and blue rump and tail feathers. Blue manakins are also
unusual in that males routinely dance for females in threesomes or even four-
somes, though they do not do the tightly coordinated unison song (Trainer &
McDonald, 1993) performed by male long-tailed manakins.
Courtship Display
Male long-tailed manakins have an elaborate vocal repertoire. In birds, the
term vocal or song repertoire often refers to subtle variations in male song
(Krebs & Kroodsma, 1980). In the long-tailed manakin, vocal repertoire refers
to a suite of functionally and sonically very different calls. If you are like me,
you might have difficulty hearing the difference between variants of the songs
of a male song sparrow (Melospiza melodia; Beecher et al., 1996). You would
not, however, have any difficulty recognizing the difference between the “teea-
moo” partner-attraction call given by an alpha male to call his beta partner and
the unison “toledo” song. (These song names are onomatopoetic, meaning the
names sound like the songs.) Males give a “witwitwit” call to synchronize just
before starting a bout of toledos—the avian equivalent of a band member
calling out “and a one, and a two . . . ” Waanh, doodoodoo, owngh, weeoo,
nyanhnyownyanyownh—almost anyone can learn seven or eight distinctly
different vocalizations given by males in different contexts. The repertoire
consists of at least 15 distinctly different sounds, each given in particular con-
texts. This very large repertoire is no surprise given the complex social relation-
ships among males. I will return to the idea of social complexity later. The
most important call is the dual-male toledo song, used to attract females to
the males’ dance perch. It is given in unison (with an approximately one-
tenth of a second offset between the partners). Males from successful leks give
toledos that are closer to each other in pitch than those of less successful males
(Trainer & McDonald, 1995). Presumably, like well-tuned violins in an
orchestra, males in better tune sound more attractive to listening females. A
very successful partnership, calling at the height of the season, can perform
as many as 1,800 toledos per hour and as many as a million over the course
104 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
of a season. Males that perform more toledos attract more females as visitors to
their dance perch (McDonald, 1989). Once a female decides to visit a pair of
males, the partners descend to the dance perch, a low vine or branch usually
half a meter or so from the ground and roughly horizontal, with a diameter
slightly thicker than your thumb. Active dancers can polish the lichen and
even some of the bark from their heavily used perch. The males then begin
their dual-male backwards leapfrog dance. One male sidles toward the female,
who watches them from the perch. As the lead male nears the female, he rises
in an arc, turning slightly sideways, and his partner sidles toward the female.
The first male lands behind his partner and begins sidling forward, and they
perform a set of 20 to 100 backwards leapfrogs. The dance was a memorable
feature of David Attenborough’s Trials of Life series on public television.
The males alternate sets of leapfrog hops with periods of 10 to 60 seconds of
what biologist Paul Slud (1957) termed “butterfly flight.” The males fly slowly
with open-slotted wings in a manner somewhat reminiscent of the flight of
blue Morpho butterflies, which are common in the same habitats favored by
long-tailed manakins.
One of the many delightful things about male manakins is their resem-
blance to animated fruit. While the females are a sensible, cryptic green, well
suited to making them difficult to detect when incubating their nests, the
males tend to be attired in striking combinations of black, red, blue, yellow,
orange, and white. By no coincidence, such colors are typical of the fruits
eaten by male and female manakins (Wheelwright & Janson, 1985). For
example, in my study area, a favorite fruit is that of Citharexylum donnell-
smithii (Verbenaceae). This small tree often occurs at forest edges, and the
fruit hang in large, asynchronously ripening panicles. The ripe fruit are black,
while the unripe fruit are orange. The resulting orange and black bunches are
visible at a considerable distance. Other favored fruits are contrasting,
attention-grabbing red and black, or white and black, and some are blue.
Courtship signals may often reflect sensory biases on the part of the female
receivers. Female túngara frogs (Physalaemus pustulosus), for example, appear
to have a preexisting bias toward preferring male vocalizations with features
similar to those of their prey (Ryan et al., 1990; see Chapter 5). Some guppies
(Poecilia reticulata) eat orange fruit and the females are attracted to males with
orange patches (Rodd et al., 2002). Female manakins, because of their reliance
on visual cues for finding fruit, have a visual system that can be co-opted to
respond strongly to the suite of color combinations that occurs in the males.
In an evolutionary sense, therefore, males that don bright plumages are
exploiting a preexisting bias in the sensory systems of the females. Studies have
also suggested that the color of light in the forest may influence which colors
STUDYING LIFELONG MALE - MALE PARTNERSHIPS IN A TROPICAL BIRD 105
are favored in the plumage. That is, drier and wetter forests may have different
light environments that affect how well plumage contrasts, or how cryptic
it is, against the general forest background (Endler & Théry, 1996). In these
and many other ways the ecological context influences the behavior of
animals.
Natural history—knowing a lot about an organism in its natural environ-
ment—is sometimes undervalued (Greene, 2005) as the basis for academic
approaches to understanding the natural world. Most great biologists, how-
ever, have an initial passion for a particular organism or taxon that inspires
all the rest of their work, even when their impact extends far beyond that par-
ticular taxon. One of the founders of behavioral ecology, as a discipline, is
Edward O. Wilson, whose book Sociobiology (Wilson, 1975) synthesized ideas
about kin selection, the costs and benefits of behavior, and many other
ongoing topics in behavioral ecology. His driving passion is ants. In his last
book, Charles Darwin (1881) focused on earthworms and their many effects
on the natural world. Careful observations of the actions of earthworms led
him to conclude that they have a powerful influence on the turnover of soils
and the subsidence of rocks and buildings into the soil. Earthworms literally
shape the surface of the earth. When Europeans arrived in North America in
the sixteenth century, earthworms did not occur in the Northeast. Their intro-
duction had huge impacts (Bohlen et al., 2004) on the vegetation, leaf-litter
load, and other aspects of the landscape. I could continue with a long list of
biologists whose general contributions to science stem from a fascination with
watching their favorite animals in natural settings.
One of the exciting things about graduate school is that, unlike in many
undergraduate curricula, one can sample and choose and assemble ideas for
oneself, rather than in the order, and with the emphasis, chosen by a professor.
From that melting pot of ideas and the discussions with other graduate stu-
dents, I began to think of ideas and questions that I could apply to the dual-
male lek dance of long-tailed manakins. Some of my early ideas now make
me cringe. In an early proposal, I planned to handicap the alpha with small
lead weights to see whether I could tire him out and reverse the alpha and beta
roles, assuming that the alpha role was mutable from dance to dance. I now
know that I would likely simply have messed up the performance history of
any teams I treated thus. Being alpha has little to do with being the male with
the most staying power in any individual dance. The alpha’s dominance over
his beta partner has been years in the making and is not subject to temporary
reversal. Some of my earlier ideas, therefore, were complete dead ends. Not
too long ago, though, I discovered a primitive hand-drawn social network of
the relations among the males in my study area that I had created many years
ago. At the time, I had never heard of social network analysis, and it would
be about 20 years until I picked up that thread, to the point that it became
the main focus of my research. All that wasted time! Why did I not stick with
the fascination of the complicated interactions? I would like to think that at
least some of the many different things I did in the interim were essential to
a proper perspective on social networks when I finally returned to them.
One of those skills was to (start to) learn how to see what happens.
A major and long-overdue change in law enforcement practice in recent
years has been decreased reliance on eyewitness evidence, which study after
study has shown to be extremely unreliable. It is very, very hard to see what
happens. I sometimes run a short experimental demonstration of this fact in
my classes. I do five or six simple things in rapid-fire order and ask students
to write down what happened and in what order. The range of responses is
staggering. Somewhere in there, the group as a whole catches most of the
events and their sequence, but almost no one ever comes close to capturing
the whole. One student notices that I waved at them just before I flicked off
the lights. Another remembers that I whistled four notes (the Beethoven’s
Fifth notes of a golden-crowned sparrow [Zonotrichia atricapilla] song) while
the lights were out. One student has the broad sequence correct but few of
the details. Others capture one event that caught their attention but com-
pletely fail to capture the overall flow. I like to think that I would do better
than they do, and I suspect that I would be a better-than-average eyewitness
because of my training, but even I suffer from selective attention, failure to
remember accurately, and many other failures in observation. I do have one
STUDYING LIFELONG MALE - MALE PARTNERSHIPS IN A TROPICAL BIRD 107
little from those of males (McDonald, 1993b). That lack of survival difference
puzzled me until I though back to the natural history. Predation rates on long-
tailed manakin nests are disturbingly high. While watching nests I have twice
seen a predator take eggs (emerald toucanet) or nestlings (squirrel). Although
females can start reproducing early, therefore, it may take them years just to
replace themselves and their mate. Furthermore, females may well improve
at nesting over time. That improvement loops back to influence the payoff
to a beta male’s patient wait for alpha status. Betas will help attract young
females to their lek. Only when those females are older, and perhaps not until
the beta has ascended to the alpha role, will the females be likely to be success-
ful nesters. Thus a beta male’s current effort may, in fact, have a delayed payoff
that accrues mostly to him. Cooperation pays—eventually.
COOPERATION
The need to build a lek’s reputation for excellent performance is critically
important to explaining a beta male's behavior. Without the leg up of a repu-
tation, inherited from his alpha partner and maintained or strengthened by the
beta, a beta male would have little hope of becoming highly successful. I do
not think the success stems from learning the craft. The analogy I would use
is Michelangelo. Michelangelo was likely a better artist, almost from the begin-
ning, than was his master, Domenico Ghirlandaio, whose work is far less well
known than that of his famous pupil. Likewise, some male long-tailed mana-
kins may be far superior in endurance, singing ability, and dancing ability to
the males who precede them in their long climb to alpha status at a perch zone.
What Michelangelo needed from his apprenticeship was as much about bene-
fitting from the reputation and future potential patrons of the work as anything
to do with learning techniques. Likewise, males who wait patiently in line in
the leks of long-tailed manakins need to be part of an unbroken chain of perfor-
mance unmarred by conflicts that would drive away potential female visitors.
When I deliver talks on my manakin studies, people sometimes ask me how
alpha males choose their beta partners. They do not. Males secure their rank
by establishing their dominance over others, not because they are chosen as
partners by higher-ranking males. An anecdote about a particular beta male
is revealing. Early in my study, the beta male at the most successful lek disap-
peared between one season and the next. The gamma that ascended to the beta
male role had a defective syrinx. His contribution to the unison toledos
sounded awful. Nevertheless, he was the next most dominant male, and his
place in line was beyond dispute. If the problem of defective syrinx were at
all common, selection would doubtless have ensured that defective singers
112 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
did not move up to beta, where their poor performance could hurt the reputa-
tion of the lek. And the reputation of that lek did, indeed, suffer. In the first
year of the new partnership, visitation suffered, but females that had copulated
there previously came back—the beta male’s dancing was as good as that of
any other beta. In subsequent years, however, the success of the lek declined
because fewer new female visitors were attracted to the lek. When he ascended
to the alpha role, the defective beta never really established a steady partner-
ship. Although anecdotes are not usually considered scientifically acceptable
evidence, I nevertheless find it illuminating. The cooperation is not based on
mutual choice of partner. It results from each male’s struggle to secure a place
in line at a lek where he has established relations and a rank relative to the
other contenders for a place in the queue.
Cooperative behavior is often explained as resulting from the genes shared
between the recipient of an altruistic (costly) act and the donor (Clutton-
Brock, 2002). Cooperation driven by the relatedness of the interactants is
called kin selection and has been used to explain cooperation in everything
from slime molds (Queller et al., 2002) to humans. More puzzling is when co-
operation occurs between unrelated individuals (Trivers, 1971; Axelrod &
Hamilton, 1981). In 1987, I began taking small blood samples from the birds
I captured in order to assess relatedness by analyzing DNA. My colleague
Wayne Potts and I found that the male partners in long-tailed manakins are
no more closely related to each other than are pairs of males selected at ran-
dom from the population (McDonald & Potts, 1994). For kin selection (indi-
rect inclusive fitness benefits) to operate, individuals must preferentially direct
their cooperative acts toward individuals to whom they are related. In long-
tailed manakins, rather than deriving a payoff from the genes shared with their
partners, beta males receive a direct, if long-delayed, benefit from the inherit-
ance of a reputation and a suite of site-faithful females. Females tend to return
for visits and copulations to perches they have chosen in the past. Their site
fidelity transcends the turnover of alpha males. Although I have no strong evi-
dence to support the claim—here is one of many examples of questions that
you or some future researcher might answer—I strongly suspect that the
females do not individually recognize the alpha males with whom they mate.
Instead, they choose to visit leks where the toledo output has been high over
the long term. They often visit several leks in any given season, but they seem
never to copulate at more than one (McDonald, 2010). They seem to choose
the perch at which they will copulate based on the performance of the dual-
male leapfrog dance (McDonald, 1989). They do not individually choose
the male mating partner—they let the males sort out who will remain at the
end of the dance. If they return for a subsequent copulation in the same or
STUDYING LIFELONG MALE - MALE PARTNERSHIPS IN A TROPICAL BIRD 113
predefinitive males are not a threat to their position in the age-graded queue
for social status (McDonald, 1989b). That reduced aggression means that they
are more readily tolerated as hangers-on at the leks, giving young males a
chance to become familiar to the other members of the lek. By the time they
are four and older, I presume, they are sufficiently familiar to be individually
recognized by the other members of the lek, both by their appearance and
by their individually distinct vocalizations. Although I have never amassed
the evidence necessary to publish a paper on individual recognition among
male long-tailed manakins, I have no doubt that it occurs, as it does in many
other species of birds. Another interesting feature of the aggressive interactions
among males is that the strongest response to the definitive male taxidermic
mounts was not by the alpha or beta males at the leks but by lower-ranking
definitive males. Any definitively plumaged intruder that managed to establish
himself at the lek would be a threat to the lower-ranking definitive males.
Thus the orderliness of the queues and the surprising lack of overt aggression
that one sees as the males interact is maintained by the self-interest of all the
members of the queue. A general problem for the maintenance of any orderly
queue is that those at the end of most queues have nothing to lose from a shake-
up (Maynard Smith, 1983). Following a shakeup they cannot be any further
back in the queue and might even be further ahead. In the case of long-tailed
manakins, however, even the males at the end of the queue have something to
lose from a shakeup—the good reputation of the lek. Leks where the males fight
with each other are unattractive to females. Female choice for good behavior
therefore enforces the patient, orderly waiting that characterizes the queues of
male long-tailed manakins. Males are constrained to be orderly because the value
of the queue lies not in some physically defendable resource but in an intangible
reputation based on high levels of performance and orderly behavior. Disorderly
behavior would diminish the very resource for which males are queuing.
Although top-ranking males engage in far more behavior that is cooperative
than that is overtly aggressive, one intriguing feature of their displays hints at
the underlying tension caused by the different self-interests of the partners.
At the end of some dance bouts, whether in the presence of a female or not,
the males accelerate the pace of the leapfrogs and end with a sharp “buzz
weent” vocalization given by the dominant male and directed at his subordi-
nate partner. Alpha males fairly often direct these at their beta partners, betas
at gammas, and so forth. During dances for females the beta male often leaves
after a buzz weent, leaving the alpha male to continue, perhaps culminating in
his succeeding in copulating with the watching female.
The buzz weents do not serve to establish dominance; instead they
reinforce or express it. That is, males seem not to direct a buzz weent at
STUDYING LIFELONG MALE - MALE PARTNERSHIPS IN A TROPICAL BIRD 115
another male until they have already established a clearly dominant role. I
therefore long thought that males would never give mutual buzz weents. The
one exception provides a very interesting insight into the normal dynamics
of queuing in long-tailed manakins. In 1991, the alpha, beta, and gamma
males at the most successful lek in my study area all disappeared in quick suc-
cession. The result was a power vacuum. The lek continued to attract females
that had visited or copulated in prior years, but it was not clear which males
would assume the alpha and beta roles. Males from adjacent leks began spend-
ing time at the dance perch where the power vacuum provided a powerful
incentive to striving for the vacant alpha role. For the first and only time in
nearly 20 years of observation, I saw grappling fights between males. In look-
ing back at my data on buzz weents, I realized that mutual buzz weents had
occurred. I think that what had happened was that the power vacuum drew
in males from adjacent leks, which had current or prior ties to one or other
of the males at the lek. Some of these males were older, high-status males, per-
haps dominant to some or all of the lower-ranking males at the contended lek.
In the absence of the prior alpha, beta, and gamma, these neighboring males
had an opportunity to vie for the alpha or beta role. Critically, however, some
of these males may never have interacted directly with other contenders from
leks in a different direction from the contested lek. As a result, they had never
established their relative dominance. Each of them therefore “felt” that he was
dominant enough to direct a buzz weent at the other. In the normal, orderly
queues, all the males have clearly established relative rankings. Only in the
highly unusual case of a rapid loss of the top of the hierarchy did the estab-
lished system of orderliness break down. The contenders, some of them unfa-
miliar with each other, now had a clear and present benefit for being aggressive
because females were continuing to visit and copulate at fairly high rates. The
benefit to current strife outweighed the potential long-term cost of loss of
female patronage. Eventually, a male from one of the adjacent leks became
established as the new alpha. He was reasonably successful in his first season
as alpha. By the next season, however, the mayhem had taken its toll on the
reputation of the lek. Female visitation dropped off, as did copulatory success;
the lek never reestablished itself as the most successful in my study area.
their professional prospects. Established professors with tenure may not need
to engage in such activities (even if they did so years ago).
Within a social network one can use the number of links that separate two
individuals as a measure of social distance. This social distance is perhaps most
familiar in the concept of “six degrees of separation” (Watts, 2003), the idea
that any two people can be connected by a chain of six links (A knows B,
who knows C, etc.). Six degrees of separation is the basis for the Kevin Bacon
game, where one attempts to link a given actor to Bacon by naming a chain of
movies in which they co-occurred with another actor that then acted with
another, such that the chain eventually links the original actor to Bacon. That
concept of degrees of separation, or what I call social distance, leads naturally
to the possibility that social distance is somehow related to the physical (geo-
graphic) distance between potential interactants or the genetic distance (relat-
edness or lack thereof) between potential interactants. I looked at precisely
those relations in comparing the social distance between male long-tailed man-
akins to the distance between the leks with which they were affiliated
(McDonald, 2009). I excluded males who had interacted directly (edge dis-
tance of one, geographic distance of zero) because, by definition, males that
interact have to have co-occurred at the same location at the same time. As
one might expect, for males separated by a social distance of two or greater,
the physical proximity of their respective major lek affiliations was a good pre-
dictor of their social distance. No such relation existed between social distance
and relatedness. That is, males that were socially close were no more likely to
be closely related than males that were socially distant. As with almost all social
networks, the manakin social network is a small world (Watts & Strogatz,
1998)—no two males are very many links away from each other.
CONCLUSION
Even beginning to assemble the pieces of the puzzle of why male long-tailed
manakins should display cooperatively, why they have such long lifespans, and
how they can bop till they drop has required a suite of approaches from
genetic analyses to demographic modeling and, more recently, social network
approaches. A huge number of questions remain. What hormonal mecha-
nisms underlie the tension between cooperation and conflict in the social
interactions of males? How do females benefit from choosing males that sing
and dance well? Furthermore, if most females choose the same alpha male as
a mating partner, how can they benefit at all? I think part of the answer to
the benefit to females lies in a similarity to fads. If everyone in school is wear-
ing the same hat or shoe style, one does not become cooler than others by
118 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
wearing that very same style. One does, however, avoid the terrible fate of
being one of the very few who is demonstrably less cool. Likewise, a female
who chooses the best male does not do better than other females that make
the same choice, but she avoids doing worse. Compiling the evidence to show
that any other choice would be worth less would be a daunting task. Even
more exciting than the unanswered questions are the questions we have not
even thought to ask yet and the unquestioned assumptions that may some
day be shown to be unwarranted. Truly creative science consists of putting
together ideas that no one has previously thought to put together and then
linking them with elegant logic and evidence. I hope that some of you will
have the privilege of feeling and stimulating that sort of excitement.
INTRODUCTION
Animal communication is one of the most fundamental of all social behaviors.
It modulates interactions among neighbors and strangers, siblings and parents,
and individuals and their prospective mates. One of the most fundamental
functions of communication is to enhance the sender’s conspicuousness, to
cause the sender to stand out against the background so it can be detected
by the receiver. This is a challenge for signals that function over long distances,
such as those that function in territorial advertisement and mate attraction,
because signal intensity and fidelity decrease with distance from the sender.
At longer distances a signal is less likely to be above the receiver’s threshold
for detection and recognition, and it is also more likely to be masked by noise
as the intensity of noise at the receiver is independent of its distance from the
sender.
Another type of noise is generated by conspecifics signaling in the same
channel. We may perceive a chorus of frogs or insects as a melodious, even co-
operative unit. But to members of the chorus the calls of their neighbors are
every bit as deleterious to their own call’s ability to be detected as is environ-
mental noise. There is also “noise” within the perceptual systems of the
receiver that ameliorates signal detection. One example is habituation. Upon
continual exposure to a signal, an animal will tend to ignore it, and some of
the animal’s neurons will cease to fire. Another type of perceptual noise is
incremental forgetting of a signal once it is perceived. Some signals are more
122 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
males call from the safety of burrows, protected from the attacks of predatory
geckos, which are attracted to their calls. As females approach the burrows, the
geckos intercept and attack them (Sakaluk & Bellwood, 1984). Overall, how-
ever, males are more heavily exploited by eavesdroppers than females. To be
loved, males risk being preyed upon and being eaten.
Figure 5.1. Calls of male túngara frogs, Physalaemus pustulosus, attract both intended
receivers, female túngara frogs, and unintended receivers such as the predatory bat,
Trachops cirrhosus, and parasitic midges, Corethrella spp. (Bat photo by Alexander
Lang, frog photos by Alexander T. Baugh and Kathrin Lampert, midge photos by
Ximena Bernal, composite by Michael Teague O’Mara. Animals not to scale.)
BE LOVED , BE PREY , BE EATEN 125
Figure 5.2. Graphical depictions of túngara frog mating calls with zero, one, two, and
three chucks (from top, left to right, bottom, left to right). Waveforms are shown
above; spectrograms below.
sound. Túngara frogs have a pair of pendulous fibrous masses that hang from
the vocal folds and protrude into the passageway that connect the lungs to the
larynx.
All of the close relatives of the túngara frogs produce whine-like mating
calls, but only the túngara frog and its sister species P. petersi augment the
whine with chucks. All populations of túngara frogs studied have males that
produce complex calls, and there are no known cases in which a male was
not able to produce a complex call. P. petersi, however, has populations in
which males are able to produce complex calls and other populations in which
males only produce simple calls (Boul et al., 2007). All species and all popula-
tions that produce chucks have large fibrous masses while species and popula-
tions that produce only simple calls have much smaller fibrous masses (Boul &
Ryan, 2004). There is also experimental evidence suggesting a role for the
fibrous mass in chuck production. When the fibrous mass was surgically
removed, males attempted to add an additional component to the whine,
but they were not able to produce a chuck (Griddi-Papp et al., 2006).
Male call production is socially regulated. Males calling in isolation usually
produce only simple calls, while males in choruses are more likely to produce
complex calls. Although males can produce calls with up to seven chucks,
they rarely do so. In recordings of complete call bouts of 85 males calling in
BE LOVED , BE PREY , BE EATEN 127
Figure 5.3. Laryngeal morphology of the túngara frog. (a) Stylized model showing the
positional relationships of the larynx and lungs in the calling frog. (b) Simplified
illustration of the larynx showing the position of the two fibrous masses protruding
from the larynx towards the lungs (lungs not illustrated) and the arytenoids cartilages
(top). (c) View of the larynx from the lungs showing the fibrous masses protruding
from the larynx (d) Mid-sagittal section of the larynx showing the attachment of the
fibrous mass to the vocal fold. (Illustrations by Cristina and Marcos Griddi-Papp)
choruses in the wild, 53 percent of the calls were simple, consisting of only a
whine, while 37 percent had one chuck, 10 percent had two chucks, and
0.1 percent had had three or more chucks (Bernal, Page, et al., 2007).
Males tend to increase and decrease call complexity one chuck at a time and
add chucks in response to calls of other males (Bernal et al., 2009). In evoked-
vocalization studies using static stimuli, in which the same call is broadcast to
the male at a natural calling rate, males produced more chucks in response to
complex calls than to simple calls but tended not to produce more chucks in
response to stimuli with more versus fewer chucks (Figure 5.4; Bernal et al.,
2009). In response to dynamic playbacks, in which a computer program
counted the number of chucks in the male’s call and then responded with a
specified calling strategy, males produced more chucks when the playback
always produced one more chuck than the male (“escalate strategy”) than in
response to a playback that always produced one less chuck than the focal male
(“deescalate strategy”; Goutee et al., 2010). Thus the male’s call complexity is
influenced by calling strategies of other males. In experiments using both static
128 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 5.4. Diagram illustrating the sequence of male túngara frog calling behavior.
Transitional probabilities from one call type to another are indicated by numbers
and arrows.
and dynamic playbacks the number of chucks produced is low, less than two,
and as in the field is far lower than the maximum number of chucks that males
are able to produce.
Females also influence a male’s call complexity (Akre & Ryan, 2011). In
nature males tend to remain fairly stationary while calling, and females are able
to approach a male unencumbered by any interference. Females choose a male
by slowly moving into the male, at which time he clasps her from the top in
amplexus. They remain in this state for several hours before constructing a
foam nest.
Anecdotal observations suggested that males can detect the approach of a
female, perhaps by detecting the vibrations of the female as she swims through
the water, and increase the number of chucks in response. Detailed behavioral
observations have shown that females possess a repertoire of behaviors in the
presence of males that do not function in mate choice directly, that is,
BE LOVED , BE PREY , BE EATEN 129
approaching and initiating amplexus with a male, but seem to function in dis-
play manipulation. In these cases females might rapidly swim past a male,
bump a male and rapidly swim away, leap over a male, or splash in his vicinity.
All of these behaviors and more (seven specific behaviors were identified)
result in males increasing the number of chucks he produces (Akre & Ryan,
2011).
The females’ preferences for chucks varied with distance (Akre & Ryan,
2010b). When the amplitude of the call at the site of the female was adjusted
to mimic a call produced by a male 12 m away, females exhibited phonotaxis
to the call, but they did not discriminate between a simple call and a complex
call with either one or three chucks (Figure 5.5). At 3 m females preferred
both complex calls (with one or three chucks) to simple calls, but they did
not prefer calls with three chucks to calls with one chuck, nor did they exhibit
memory for the complex calls. At 1 m females still preferred calls with one or
three chucks to simple calls; they also preferred complex calls with three
chucks to complex calls with one chuck; and they also exhibited memory for
calls with three chucks. Thus we can think of the call having a stratified active
space in which the potency of different components of the call varies with
distance.
The amount of evolution of a trait under sexual selection, such as the túng-
ara frog’s complex call, is dependent upon the strength of selection on that
trait. As the strength of sexual selection is related to the strength of female
preference, understanding how females perceive trait variation offers insights
into how traits have evolved.
How do frogs, and humans for that matter, compare the magnitude of
traits? If we were to be blindfolded and hold a 1-pound weight in each hand,
Figure 5.5. Active space of female discrimination of male túngara frog calls.
BE LOVED , BE PREY , BE EATEN 133
not elicit a response from females. Female response to the structure of the
chuck, however, is more permissive. All of the low-frequency harmonics can
be removed from the chuck without the call suffering in attractiveness. In fact,
the high-frequency harmonics can be replaced with a single tone without
ameliorating its potency as long as that tone is in the vicinity of the dominant
frequency. What is perhaps most surprising is that the order of the call compo-
nents is not critical; a chuck-whine is still preferred to a whine only.
We have tested females with a variety of stimuli substituted for the chuck.
Our results show that a diversity of sounds, including conspecific and hetero-
specific calls as well as predator-produced and human-made sounds such as
bells and whistles, can all substitute for the chuck and still result in an increase
in the attractiveness of the whine. In addition, many of these substitutes are as
attractive as a chuck. Interestingly, we did not find any stimuli that when
paired with a whine were more attractive than a whine-chuck (Ryan et al.,
2010).
Frog-eating bats indeed localize complex calls better than simple ones (Page &
Ryan, 2008). Their localization performance is a function of the difficulty of
the localization task (Figure 5.6). In more simple tasks (no background noise,
no obstacles, continuous frog calls), bats localize simple and complex calls
equally well. In more difficult localization tasks (high background noise, many
obstacles, frog calls that cease as soon as bats begin their approach), bats’ locali-
zation performance for simple and complex calls is equally poor. In conditions
of intermediate difficulty, however, T. cirrhosus consistently show better locali-
zation performance for complex calls over simple ones.
Other factors might also be involved in predator preference for call com-
plexity. Ongoing studies investigate the role of learning in predator preference,
and the degree to which complex-calling males are more distracted and easier
to capture than simple-calling males.
Cognition and perception influence how receivers process information and
respond to incoming signals. Here we discuss recent cognitive and perceptual
studies in the frog-eating bat, including the bats’ perception of multiple
Figure 5.6. Frog-eating bats localize complex calls better than simple ones when tasks
are of intermediate difficulty. When the localization task is simple or difficult
(shown here with the addition of an obstacle course and background noise), there is
no difference in localization performance for simple or complex calls.
BE LOVED , BE PREY , BE EATEN 137
chucks, how they assign prey quality to prey calls, and the potential for social
learning.
Earlier we discussed female preference for increasing male trait elaboration
and showed that for males producing complex calls, it is a case of diminishing
returns; as males increase call complexity, differences in relative attractiveness
decrease (Akre et al., 2011). Female preference for increasing number of
chucks closely follows the prediction of Weber’s law—females perceive chuck
variation proportionally, not by the absolute difference in chuck numbers, so
the same increase of a single chuck that makes a large difference to perceived
attractiveness of a male producing no chucks makes very little difference to
the attractiveness of a male producing five chucks. How do predators perceive
the increasing trait elaboration of their prey? We tested bats with pairs of calls
that varied in chuck number. Just as in the female frogs, the absolute differ-
ence in chuck number explained little of the variation in strength of bat pref-
erence (8.3 percent). The ratio of chuck number, however, explained a
substantial portion of the variation in strength of bat preference (73.9 percent;
Akre et al., 2011). So rather than increasing the strength of their preferences
linearly, frog-eating bats, like female túngara frogs, show less of an increase
in preference as chuck numbers increase.
Frog-eating bats respond to the calls of many of the palatable frogs calling
in their area (Tuttle & Ryan, 1981). Given an acoustic cue alone, T. cirrhosus
will attack speakers broadcasting the calls of palatable species and ignore
speakers broadcasting the calls of poisonous species (Tuttle & Ryan, 1981).
Clearly the bats have associations between the calls they hear and expected
prey quality. How flexible are these prey-cue/prey-quality associations? Can
they be altered given new information, or is a bat’s acoustic repertoire fixed
and resistant to change? We tested bats with species from extremes on the pal-
atability spectrum—on the palatable end, we chose túngara frogs, which are
small, easy to capture, and a preferred prey species of this bat. On the poison-
ous end, we chose Rhinella marina (=Bufo marinus), the cane toad, which is
much larger than the bat, poisonous, and has a distinct call that is very differ-
ent from the túngara frog call. Using wild-caught bats, we first measured base-
line preference levels by presenting the bats both stimuli; all bats preferred the
frog calls to the toad calls. Then, to test the flexibility of their preference, we
offered the bats five acoustic steps, each rewarded, gradually fading the frog
call into the toad call by systematically decreasing the amplitude of one and
increasing the amplitude of the other.
Bats responded to the fading stimuli quickly, completing the five steps in
approximately an hour. We then extinguished the bats’ response to túngara
frog calls by repeatedly offering the bats a call without a food reward on the
138 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
speaker. This step took longer, but for all bats, response to the túngara frog
calls was extinguished within the course of one night. We then presented the
bats again with a choice between toad and frog calls and saw a complete rever-
sal in their preference—bats that had previously flown only to frog calls and
never to toad calls now did the opposite (Page & Ryan, 2005). These results
show that bats are highly flexible in the associations they form between prey
cues and prey quality and can quickly form new associations given changes
in prey quality. These traits should help frog-eating bats respond to temporal
and spatial fluctuations in prey availability and encounters with novel prey
species.
We next wanted to know how these prey-cue/prey-quality associations are
formed. Using a similar paradigm, we quantified the acquisition of a novel for-
aging behavior (learning to associate the calls of cane toads with palatable prey)
in three groups of bats: a social learning group, a social facilitation group, and
a trial-and-error group (Page & Ryan, 2006). We broadcast cane toad calls
from a speaker with a food reward and quantified the number of trials needed
for the bats to respond to the novel stimulus. The social learning group con-
sisted of two bats, one naïve and one experienced with the novel association.
The social facilitation group consisted of two inexperienced bats; the purpose
of this treatment was to test whether the mere presence of a conspecific would
increase the rate of learning a novel association. The trial-and-error group con-
sisted of a single inexperienced bat alone. The bats in the social learning group
rapidly acquired the novel association in a mean of 5.3 trials. Most bats in the
other groups did not approach the novel stimulus, even after 100 trials. In
each of these groups, however, there was a single bat that approached the toad
calls and learned the novel association (after 81 trials in the trial-and-error
group, and after 84 trials in the social facilitation group). These results suggest
that not only can information be transferred quickly from bat to bat, establish-
ing the potential for rapid cultural transmission of foraging information in
nature, but that bats explore novel prey and cues. Exploratory behavior, even
when rare, could explain the origin of novel foraging responses that are then
transferred socially from bat to bat.
100 species of pantropical and subtropical flies (Borkent, 2008). Midges from this
family look similar to mosquitoes, and given these similarities, these two groups
were in the same family until the late 1980s when they were assigned to a separate
family (Wood & Borkent, 1989). Corethrellidae is currently recognized as the
sister group to the phantom midges (Chaoboridae) and mosquitoes (Culicidae).
Corethrella midges are eavesdroppers that specialize on frog mating calls and
were first recognized by Sturgis McKeever (1977). Art Borkent (2008)
reviewed the fossil, cladistic, and morphological evidence and suggests that
midges and frogs have shared a long evolutionary history, probably at least
since the Early Cretaceous. Midges are also vectors of disease. They transmit
blood parasites to frogs (Johnsons et al., 1993). In túngara frogs, a new species
of such blood parasites has been discovered, Trypanosoma tungarae (Pinto &
Bernal, in preparation). Initial evidence suggests that frogs and frog-biting
midges share a long evolutionary history with trypanosomes; their intricate
associations and interactions deserve further study.
Studies in Gamboa, Panama, revealed that at least seven species of frog-biting
midges attack calling túngara frogs (Figure 5.7). Midges are abundant, and a
speaker broadcasting túngara frog calls attracts an average of 142 midges in
30 minutes; on some nights, a single vigorously calling male can attract over
500 midges in this period (Bernal et al., 2006). Once a female midge homes
in on a calling male, she lands on his back and walks to the nostrils where, in this
frog species, most of the midges take a blood meal. Males attract midges only
Figure 5.7. Frog-biting midges attacking a túngara frog. (Photo by Alexander T. Baugh)
140 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
while they are calling. Given that male túngara frogs call while floating in water,
when a male stops calling, the midges do not remain in flight over the water but
fly to nearby vegetation. Only those midges already on the frog continue
attempting to obtain a blood meal. The midges’ dependence on the male frog’s
call for localization creates bouts of midge attacks that parallel the call bouts of
the male frog.
As discussed earlier, both frogs and bats prefer the complex calls over the sim-
ple calls of the túngara frog. Do the frog-biting midges share this preference for
complex calls? Given that the perception of a signal is dependent on the sensory
system of the receiver (Endler, 1978, 1992), it is not necessarily expected that
receivers with such different sensory systems as frogs, bats, and midges would
share call preferences. Field playback experiments using sound traps broadcast-
ing either complex or simple calls, however, revealed that the midges too are
more likely to approach calls with chucks than calls without them (Bernal et
al., 2006). There could be several reasons for this convergence of call preferences.
One is that female frogs and eavesdroppers could all benefit from approaching
complex calls because, as mentioned earlier, calls with chucks are often associated
with a high density of males. For the bats and midges, increased effectiveness
when attacking frogs may have played a role favoring the preference for complex
calls (Bernal, Page, et al., 2007). Another possibility is that complex calls are eas-
ier for midges to localize as has been shown for bats. The landing error of midges
approaching complex and simple calls, however, does not differ depending on
the call type (Bernal et al., 2006). Although call complexity does not seem to in-
fluence the midge’s ability to land on the frog, it may affect the midge’s ability to
detect the call or its approach pathway when it cues in on the call.
It is intriguing that the midges mostly bite túngara frogs on the nostrils
(Figure 5.8) as this is not true for midge attacks on other species of frog. When
midges attack small treefrogs (Dendrosophus ebbraccatus, D. microcephalus) that
breed in the same areas as túngara frogs, they bite the treefrogs in many parts
of the body, including the nostrils, back and legs.
Túngara frogs, as their species epithet pustulosus suggests, have thick skin
with numerous small pustules that give them a toad-like appearance. It is pos-
sible that the midges are not able to pierce through the túngara’s skin in most
parts of the body and are only able to successfully obtain a blood meal from
the nostrils. Thin histological sections of túngara frog skin revealed that the
skin on their back has few, small capillaries underneath a thick layer of connec-
tive tissue farther from the surface of the skin than most midges could reach
(de Silva et al., in press). The skin of the nostrils, in contrast, is rich in capillaries
that are close to the surface, facilitating a midge’s attempts to obtain a blood meal.
In contrast to the skin of the dorsum of túngara frogs, the skin of the two small
BE LOVED , BE PREY , BE EATEN 141
Figure 5.8. Frog-biting midges attacking a túngara frog. Note the engorged midges
obtaining a blood meal from the nostril of the frog. (Photo by Alexander T. Baugh)
treefrog species from the same area has higher density of capillaries closer to the
surface of the back and nostrils, probably facilitating biting in those areas.
In addition to their thinner, capillary-rich skin, the nostrils may attract frog-
biting midges if the midges are following a CO2 gradient, as many blood-
sucking insects do. Although in anurans the majority of gas exchange takes place
at the nostrils, frogs excrete most CO2 through the skin (Boutilier et al., 1992).
Thus, it is unlikely that the midges follow a CO2 gradient that leads them to bite
at the nostrils. This area is also in close proximity to the vocal sac, however, and the
midges could be following a sound-intensity gradient that leads them to the nos-
trils. Although female midges may be using such gradients to reach the nostrils,
CO2 and sound cues alone do not determine where the midges bite their hosts.
Ongoing studies are investigating the cues used for host localization by the midges.
OTHER EAVESDROPPERS
Mating signals are species specific, conspicuous, and often easy to localize,
characteristics that make them particularly vulnerable to exploitation by eaves-
droppers. Not surprisingly, more than one unintended receiver may exploit a
146 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
given communication system. We have discussed how male calling túngara frogs
are attacked by both bats and midges, but these are not the only eavesdroppers
taking advantage of this frog’s mating calls. Túngara frogs are surrounded by a
network of exploiters. Merlin Tuttle and colleagues (1982) experimentally
showed that four-eyed opossums (Philander opossum), for instance, also use the
calls of túngara frog males to localize and eat them. There is anecdotal evidence
that cane toads, which also prey on túngara frogs, use the frog’s call to localize
them (Jaeger, 1976). Similarly, South American bullfrogs (Leptodactylus savagei)
often share their breeding sites with túngara frogs. They are voracious predators
of túngara frogs (Ryan et al., 1981), and because their call shares many of the
frequencies in the túngara frog’s call, the bullfrogs should be quite sensitive to
the calls of their prey and might also rely on the túngara frog’s call for localization
cues. Although eavesdropping by L. savagei has not been demonstrated, female
túngara frogs are less attracted to a mating call which is broadcast in the presence
of the call of L. savagei (Bonachea & Ryan, 2011).
Additional predators, which could be potential eavesdroppers, have been
reported eating túngara frogs. Crabs (Potamorcacinus richmondi) and spiders, for
instance, have been observed eating calling males at túngara frog choruses (Ryan
et al., 1981; personal observation). These arthropods could use the vibrations pro-
duced by the inflation and deflation of the vocal sac in the water or other compo-
nents of the acoustic display of male frogs to increase their hunting efficiency.
Although eavesdroppers are more likely to attack males, female túngara
frogs also fall victim to eavesdroppers attracted to the breeding area. Light lev-
els, for instance, influence the responses of females to mating calls, suggesting
an effect of predation risk. Stanley Rand and colleagues investigated female
phonotaxis under lower (dark) and higher (dim) light conditions, finding that
females find darker conditions less risky (Rand et al., 1997). Using acoustic
playback experiments in which the intensity and complexity of the calls was
adjusted as the female moved to a given speaker, Alexander Baugh and Ryan
(2010a) showed that female túngara frogs’ choosiness is also influenced by
light levels. Under dim-light conditions, females are more likely to commit
to an initial call choice even if the attractiveness of the call produced by that
chosen speaker is experimentally reduced. In dark conditions, however,
females are more likely to reverse their choices and approach a suddenly more
attractive call at the expense of increasing the amount of time and movement
navigating the breeding area to select a male.
Both studies support the hypothesis that under high-light conditions
females are more vulnerable to predation, and they adjust their mate-choice
strategies to minimize such risk. High-light conditions may increase the
chances that a female will be captured by a visually orienting predator as well
BE LOVED , BE PREY , BE EATEN 147
SUMMARY
In its simplest version, communication involves a sender who produces signal
and a receiver who detects and perceives it. The relative costs and benefits of com-
municating, along with the constraints on signal production and reception, are
crucial to understanding the evolution of the communication system. As we illus-
trate, eavesdroppers can impose substantial costs on these systems and might be
one of the primary reasons for the tension between natural selection and sexual
selection. Not only can eavesdroppers influence the evolution of their victims,
but the victims’ communication systems can in turn drive sensory adaptations
in eavesdroppers. This communication mecca of intended and unintended
receivers, as we illustrated here with details of the frog-bat-midge system, offers
endless opportunities to unweave this tangled web of evolution and function.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We are grateful to our late mentor and collaborator A. Stanley Rand for his
generosity with his exquisite knowledge of tropical biology and his encourage-
ment to pursue our ideas. He is sorely missed. We also thank Merlin Tuttle,
whose ability to know what it is like to be a bat opened the door to the frog-
eating bat saga. For decades of support and funding, we are grateful to the
Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute, the National Science Foundation,
and the University of Texas at Austin.
Akre, K. L. & M. J. Ryan. (2011). Female túngara frogs elicit more complex mating
signals from males. Behavioral Ecology, 22, 846–853.
Barclay, R. M. R., B. Fenton, M. D. Tuttle, & M. J. Ryan. (1981). Echolocation calls
produced by Trachops cirrhosus (Chiroptera: Phyllostomatidae) while hunting
for frogs. Canadian Journal of Zoology, 59, 750–753.
Baugh, A. T., K. L. Akre, & M. J. Ryan. (2008). Categorical perception of a natural,
multivariate signal: Mating call recognition in túngara frogs. Proceedings of the
National Academy of Sciences, USA, 105, 8985–8988.
Baugh, A. T. & M. J. Ryan. (2010a). Ambient light alters temporal-updating behav-
iour during mate choice in a neotropical frog. Canadian Journal of Zoology, 88,
448–453.
Baugh, A. T. & M. J. Ryan. (2010b). The relative value of call embellishment in
túngara frogs. Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 65, 359–367.
Bernal, X., K. L. Akre, A. T. Baugh, A. S. Rand, & M. J. Ryan. (2009). Female and
male behavioral response to advertisement calls of variable complexity in túng-
ara frogs, Physalaemus pustulosus. Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 63,
1269–1279.
Bernal, X. E., A. S. Rand, & M. J. Ryan. (2006). Acoustic preferences and localization
performance of blood-sucking flies (Corethrella Coquillett) to túngara frog
calls. Behavioral Ecology, 17, 709–715.
Bernal, X. E., R. A. Page, A. S. Rand, & M. J. Ryan. (2007). Cues for eavesdroppers:
Do frog calls indicate prey density and quality? The American Naturalist, 169,
409–415.
Bernal, X. E., A. S. Rand, & M. J. Ryan. (2007). Sexual differences in the behavioral
response of túngara frogs, Physalaemus pustulosus, to cues associated with
increased predation risk. Ethology, 113, 755–763.
Bonaccorso, F. J. (1978). Foraging and reproductive ecology in a Panamanian bat
community. Bulletin of the Florida State Museum, Biological Sciences, 24,
359–408.
Bonachea, L. A. & M. J. Ryan. (2011). Simulated predation risk influences female
choice in túngara frogs, Physalaemus pustulosus. Ethology, 117, 400–407.
Bonato, V. & K. G. Facure. (2000). Bat predation by the fringe-lipped bat, Trachops
cirrhosus (Phyllostomidae, Chiroptera). Mammalia, 64, 241–243.
Bonato, V., K. G. Facure, & W. Uieda. (2004). Food habits of bats of subfamily
Vampyrinae in Brazil. Journal of Mammalogy, 85, 708–713.
Borkent, A. (2008). The frog-biting midges of the world (Corethrellidae: Diptera).
Zootaxa, 1804, 1–456.
Boul, K. E., W. C. Funk, C. R. Darst, D. C. Cannatella, & M. J. Ryan. (2007). Sex-
ual selection drives speciation in an Amazonian frog. Proceedings of the Royal
Society of London, B, 274, 399–406.
Boul, K. E. & M. J. Ryan. (2004). Population variation of complex advertisement
calls in Physalaemus petersi and comparative laryngeal morphology. Copeia,
2004, 624–631.
BE LOVED , BE PREY , BE EATEN 149
Phelps, S. M., A. S. Rand, & M. J. Ryan. (2007). The mixed-species chorus as public
information: Túngara frogs eavesdrop on a heterospecific. Behavioral Ecology,
18, 108–114.
Pinto, C. M. & X. E. Bernal. (In preparation). A new Trypanosoma species from neo-
tropical frogs, with notes on the taxonomy of anuran trypanosomes.
Rand, A. S., M. E. Bridarolli, L. Dries, & M. J. Ryan. (1997). Light levels influence
female choice in túngara frogs: Predation risk assessment? Copeia, 1997,
447–450.
Robert, D., J. Amoroso, & R. R. Hoy. (1992). The evolutionary convergence of hear-
ing in a parasitoid fly and its cricket host. Science, 258, 1135–1137.
Robert, D., M. P. Read, & R. R. Hoy. (1994). The tympanal hearing organ of the
parasitoid fly Ormia ochracea (Diptera, Tachinidae, Ormiini). Cell Tissue
Research, 275, 63–78.
Rodrigues, F. H. G., M. L. Reis, & V. S. Braz. (2004). Food habits of the frog-eating
bat, Trachops cirrhosus, in Atlantic forest of northeastern Brazil. Chiroptera
Neotropical, 10, 180–182.
Rosenthal, G. G., T. Y. F. Martinez, F. J. G. de Leon, & M. J. Ryan. (2001). Shared
preferences by predators and females for male ornaments in swordtails. The
American Naturalist, 158, 146–154.
Ryan, M. J. (2009). Communication in frogs and toads. In L. R. Squire (ed.), Ency-
clopedia of Neuroscience (pp. 1159–1166). Oxford, UK: Academic Press.
Ryan, M. J. (2010). The túngara frog: A model for sexual selection and communica-
tion. In M. D. Breed & J. Moore (eds.), Encyclopedia of Animal Behavior (pp.
453–461). Oxford, UK: Academic Press.
Ryan, M. J., X. E. Bernal, & A. S. Rand. (2010). Female mate choice and the poten-
tial for ornament evolution in the túngara frog Physalaemus pustulosus. Current
Zoology, 56, 343–357.
Ryan, M. J., J. H. Fox, W. Wilczynski, & A. S. Rand. (1990). Sexual selection for
sensory exploitation in the frog Physalaemus pustulosus. Nature, 343, 66–67.
Ryan, M. J. & A. Keddy-Hector. (1992). Directional patterns of female mate choice
and the role of sensory biases. The American Naturalist, 139, S4–S35.
Ryan, M. J. & A. S. Rand. (1995). Female responses to ancestral advertisement calls
in tungara frogs. Science, 269, 390–392.
Ryan, M. J. & A. S. Rand. (1999). Phylogenetic influences on mating call preferences in
female túngara frogs (Physalaemus pustulosus). Animal Behaviour, 57, 945–956.
Ryan, M. J., W. Rand, P. L. Hurd, S. M. Phelps, & A. S. Rand. (2003). Generaliza-
tion in response to mate recognition signals. The American Naturalist, 161,
380–394.
Ryan, M. J. & M. D. Tuttle. (1983). The ability of the frog-eating bat to discriminate
among novel and potentially poisonous frog species using acoustic cues. Ani-
mal Behaviour, 31, 827–833.
Ryan, M. J., M. D. Tuttle, & R. M. R. Barclay. (1983). Behavioral responses of the
frog-eating bat, Trachops cirrhosus, to sonic frequencies. Journal of Comparative
Physiology A, 150, 413–418.
152 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Ryan, M. J., M. D. Tuttle, & A. S. Rand. (1982). Bat predation and sexual advertise-
ment in a neotropical anuran. The American Naturalist, 119, 136–139.
Ryan, M. J., M. D. Tuttle, & L. K. Taft. (1981). The costs and benefits of frog chor-
using behavior. Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 8, 273–278.
Sakaluk, S. K. & J. J. Bellwood. (1984). Gecko phonotaxis to cricket calling song: A
case of satellite predation. Animal Behaviour, 32, 659–662.
Seehausen, O., Y. Terai, I. S. Magalhaes, K. L. Carleton, H. D. J. Mrosso, R. Miyagi,
I. van der Sluijs, M. V. Schneider, M. E. Maan, H. Tachida, H. Imai, & N.
Okada. (2008). Speciation through sensory drive in cichlid fish. Nature, 455,
620–626.
Stoddard, P. K. (1999). Predation enhances complexity in the evolution of electric
fish signals. Nature, 400, 254–256.
Théry, M. & J. Casas. (2002). Predator and prey views of spider camouflage. Nature,
415, 133.
Thurstone, L. L. (1927). A law of comparative judgment. Psychological Review, 34,
273–286.
Tuttle, M. D. & M. J. Ryan. (1981). Bat predation and the evolution of frog vocal-
izations in the neotropics. Science, 214, 677–678.
Tuttle, M. D., L. K. Taft, & M. J. Ryan (1982). Acoustical location of calling frogs by
Philander opossums. Biotropica, 13, 233–234.
Tuttle, M. D., L. K. Taft, & M. J. Ryan. (1982). Evasive behavior of a frog in
response to bat predation. Animal Behaviour, 30, 393–397.
von Békésy, G. (1960). Experiments in Hearing. New York: McGraw-Hill.
Wells, K. D. (2007). The Ecology and Beahvior of Amphibians. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press.
Wilczynski, W., A. S. Rand, & M. J. Ryan. (1995). The processing of spectral cues by
the call analysis system of the túngara frog, Physalaemus pustulosus. Animal
Behaviour, 49, 911–929.
Wood, D. M. and A. Borkent. (1989). Phylogeny and classification of the Nemato-
cera. In J. F. Alpine & D. M. Wood (eds.), Manual of Nearctic Diptera 3
(pp. 1333–1370). Research Branch, Agriculture Canada, Monograph 32.
Zuk, M. & G. R. Kolluru. (1998). Exploitation of sexual signals by predators and par-
asitoids. Quarterly Review of Biology, 73, 415–438.
Zuk, M., J. T. Rotenberry, & R. M. Tinghitella. (2006). Silent night: Adaptive disap-
pearance of a sexual signal in a parasitized population of field crickets. Biology
Letters, 2, 521–524.
Zuk, M., L. W. Simmons, & L. Cupp. (1993). Calling characteristics of parasitized
and unparasitized populations of the field cricket Teleogryllus oceanicus. Behav-
ioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 33, 339–343.
6
Siblicide in Birds
Douglas W. Mock
INTRODUCTION
The word siblicide entered the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) several years
ago (simultaneously with grunge!) as a biological gender-neutral alternative to
fratricide and a Bible-free alternative to Cainism. Like many English words,
it has since been used in various ways, but it is most useful when referring to
the death of a dependent offspring that was caused at least in part by a
nursery-mate’s overt aggression. Cain slew Abel; some degree of intentional
mayhem is implied. As such, it is a subset of the wider category of early mor-
tality known as brood reduction (frequency-dependent mortality of depen-
dent young, which commonly occurs without such hostility when parents
just run short of food and allocate the limited supply unevenly). Siblicide is
thus more active, seemingly nastier, and perpetrated by nestmates. The extent
of sibling aggression can be highly variable and is usually documented via
direct behavioral observations but can sometimes be inferred from the nature
of superficial wounds.
Siblicide is not particularly common; indeed, it is relatively rare so far as we
know. It is interesting because it is extreme, counterintuitive, and instructive.
Often, natural selection favors behavior and other traits that increase the wel-
fare of close genetic relatives (see Volume 2, Chapter 11), so this category rep-
resents an exception that challenges us to explain why it has evolved. That is,
we must seek to understand the special circumstances under which individuals
apparently can increase their genes’ replication rates by destroying the very
154 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
individuals (kin) that carry more of such material than anyone else. Further-
more, the Darwinian interests of other family members are automatically
affected by internecine aggression, leading to secondary questions about what
those individuals should do in response. Although siblicide has been studied
most closely in birds, largely for practical reasons, parallels are found in such
diverse taxa as fruiting plants, sharks, foxes, and barnyard piglets (Sus scrofa
domestica)—and even human royal families (reviewed in Mock & Parker,
1997; Mock, 2004). That diversity suggests that it evolves repeatedly in
response to a constellation of widely shared ecological circumstances that we
have now made some progress toward identifying and testing. Thus it has
its theoretical roots in the concept of inclusive fitness (see Volume 2, Chapter
11), but whereas that construct is usually cited to help explain very positive
aspects of social behavior (e.g., generosity, cooperation, and altruism), sibli-
cide dramatically reveals its upper ecological limits. In short, siblicide is the
apex of selfishness, evolving only when the toleration of others, even those
with whom the individual’s interests overlap maximally, can no longer be
afforded.
accepted sperm from more than one male), the incentive for sibling generosity
is halved. Ceteris paribus, we expect full siblings (same genetic parents) to be
nicer to one another than half-siblings; in practice, the species’s mating system
is more likely to tune the location of this threshold, but there are suspected
cases where actual detection of relatedness may exist (see Volume 2, Chapters
7 and 9). An extreme case is represented by brood parasites (Davies, 2000),
wherein totally unrelated conspecifics may be introduced into someone else’s
nest (e.g., American coots [Fulica americana]); of course, this trick has been
known for centuries to operate between species (e.g., European cuckoos
[Cuculus canorus]).
But even in a simple nuclear family with nonphilandering parents, the sit-
uation is far from simple. For one thing, each of the concurrent offspring
should see the family budget through a similar lens, such that each would pre-
fer to receive somewhat more than its fair share of limited resources. This is
the essence of sibling rivalry, a mismatch between the supply (typically pro-
vided by one or both of the genetic parents) and demand (the growth and
energy expenditures of dependent offspring). In practice, the limited com-
modity is usually food, so we can explore further by focusing on that currency.
Being young, dependent offspring tend to grow very rapidly while also being
relatively vulnerable to predation, thermal stresses, and other dangers. Parents
are often under pressure to provide at a high rate. All parties have clear but dis-
parate interests in the family’s total food budget (Clutton-Brock, 1991).
In this process, the primary role of a parent is to create, protect, and support
offspring, but its fitness interests are also shaped by the environment (e.g.,
local traffic in predators, current availability of food, vagaries of weather,
etc.) and by history. In most species, parents breed more than once, so the
amount laid out for an earlier brood may abridge what they have to offer the
current offspring. Similarly, if parents are young and have a considerable
future to protect, they may do well to conserve their energy and pace them-
selves. In the process of conserving, they are lowering the disposable income
available to the current brood and altering the choices available to those off-
spring. In this light, Robert Trivers’s (1974) theory of parent-offspring con-
flict (POC) has been immensely provocative. Following the simplified
genetic logic sketched above, POC puts a clear focus on social asymmetries.
Basically, parents are equally related to all of their offspring (cuckoldry and
such set aside for the moment) and thus might be expected to value all of them
to an equal degree. More specifically, because of how meiosis works, a diploid
sexual parent has a coefficient of relatedness of 0.50 to every progeny (each
got half its DNA from that parent). But, as we have just seen, offspring regard
each other as asymmetrically valuable as bearers of gene copies. Insofar as the
156 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
of the most puzzling examples, dating from Aristotle, are large birds (eagles,
cranes, certain seabirds) that routinely lay two eggs but virtually never raise
more than one chick. This seems fundamentally wasteful, especially when
the secondary downward adjustment to brood size involves horrifying levels
of bloodshed and looks vaguely exhausting even for the victorious chick. In
one nest of an African black eagle (Aquila verreauxi), for example, the first-
hatched nestling (the “A chick”) was observed as it pecked relentlessly at a hap-
less younger sibling (“B chick”) from the moment of the latter’s hatching until
its death three days later, and a meticulous observer counted 1,579 blows! If
one could assess the nutrient and energetic costs of building that second egg
and incubating it for several weeks, then fueling the A chick’s sustained assault
on its victim (also paid for with parentally delivered food), the option of sim-
ply stopping with one egg has a certain attraction. It follows that parental fit-
ness probably obtains a boost from the initial overproduction that
adequately compensates, on average, for all these costs. Otherwise, one is left
with what one eagle observer called “an inexplicable example of apparent bio-
logical waste” (Brown et al., 1977). Furthermore, siblicidal eagles are trashing
only one offspring, whereas many plants shed hundreds or even thousands of
immature seeds and fruits, as if skewing investment to a smaller number that
meet some unknown affordability criteria. In short, there seems to be a wide-
spread trade-off between quantity and quality of offspring for a given repro-
ductive cycle that parents can regulate by dropping unripe fruit or, as in
eagles, by leaving a messy execution task to certain offspring.
The incentives for initial parental overproduction fall into three nonexclu-
sive categories, and we can formalize the problem in terms of labeling one sub-
set of the offspring as core members (the ones that parents might normally
expect to raise fully) and the extras as marginals (Mock & Forbes, 1995).
This discussion will employ the modest family size of two eaglets to keep
things simple, so there is one core egg and one marginal. The most famous
explanation for laying that second egg has already been mentioned and centers
on the parents’ imperfect information about what hunting conditions will be
like several weeks after laying is finished: only by aiming high (the “optimistic
clutch size”) can parents capitalize on potential good fortune. For the nontri-
vial price of metabolizing that second egg and providing it with an extra mea-
sure of body warmth, parents may be able to double their cycle’s output.
Because natural selection is essentially a reproductive race against other mem-
bers of the same population, genes promoting second-egg production may
spread for this reason. Several factors will shape this potential payoff, including
just how often those beneficent hunting conditions will materialize. This idea
was sketched out many years ago (Lack, 1947) and can be tagged as a
158 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
members, whose age and size advantages insulate them from competitive pres-
sures, but adding an extra core chick spells disaster for any marginal backups
(Forbes et al., 1997).
Lastly, a marginal offspring can sometimes provide tangible goods or serv-
ices to core siblings. Minimally, it adds to the nestmate huddle, reducing
everyone’s exposure if air temperatures are chilly. More dramatically, it may
be sacrificed cannibalistically, in which case it may represent a final buffer
against starvation in dire food shortages. And in some species, it may serve
later in life as a nonbreeding worker to enrich the reproductive success of sib-
lings or parents. In principle, these three classes of fitness payoffs (resource-
tracking, insuring, and aiding core siblings) may be additive if, for example,
the marginal offspring serves temporarily as an insurance back-up, but if local
food conditions suddenly bloom, it may thrive and add value as either a future
breeder (creating nieces and nephews) or a servant.
extreme level, the Old World black stork (Ciconia nigra) has been known to
perform selective removal of an individual nestling, dropping it from the tree.
Mammalian mothers may sacrifice partial litters at various stages. Indeed, mar-
supial females divide litter production into two distinct stages, often produc-
ing more offspring in their vaginal parturition than they have nipples in the
pouch: the unattached extras are shed like small green applets dropping from
a tree.
Usually, parents combine overproduction with some preemptive engineer-
ing of brood members’ competitive abilities such that core young enjoy physi-
cal advantages over their less fortunate marginal siblings. Because
overproduction is typically followed by corrective brood reduction, parental
issuance of advantages to certain progeny (and/or handicaps to others) can
minimize the costliness of that secondary adjustment, especially if enforce-
ment is left to the core offspring. Quite simply, a brood of unequals can be
trimmed less expensively than one of evenly matched rivals. There are several
ways to do such “evolutionary engineering,” the best known being the wide-
spread avian habit of parents commencing effective incubation prior to the
completion of laying. Avian eggs that are not incubated seldom reach the tem-
perature threshold for efficient metabolism and growth (so-called physiologi-
cal zero, generally about 30°C). The deliberate application of parental
warmth facilitates biochemical processes supporting growth and thus acceler-
ates embryonic development within any eggs present. No birds are known to
lay more than one egg per day (larger birds often take two or more days
between eggs), so early incubation gives early embryos a head start, which
translates into hatching asynchrony. Upon emerging from the rigid confines
of its shell, a hatchling is no longer exclusively reliant on its yolk supply for
fuel and starts receiving supplements from parents. It also can exercise more
freely, gaining strength and size. The span of emergence times varies across
birds from zero (total synchrony,* which is provocatively found in precocial
birds like ducklings that tend to feed themselves and thus do not share a
parentally delivered food budget) to a week or more for certain owls and par-
rots. Size disparities among even slightly different-aged nestmates closely
match their position in the hatching order. Not surprisingly, the last to hatch
is usually the first to die in times of shortage.
*
For those wondering how eggs can hatch synchronously despite being laid at least 24 hours apart, the key
detail is that development requires maintenance at a minimum temperature for efficient cell division. In
most habitats the air temperature is below this threshold; thus eggs must be boosted by the application of
parental warmth (incubation). Thus, parents can “engineer” rough synchrony merely by not incubating
before the last egg is laid. In addition, synchronous hatching may be coordinated to a finer degree by the
young vocalizing while still inside the egg.
162 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Hatching asynchrony is not the only means parents have for playing favor-
ites. In some birds, mothers adjust the physical sizes of the eggs themselves,
and a burgeoning literature is now documenting the degree to which yolk ste-
roids may vary as a function of laying order. Even after all have hatched,
parents may continue to skew investment toward some offspring at the
expense of others. In mammals, there are better and worse portions of the
uterus for embryos to implant and even varying milk supplies associated with
particular nipples in litter-bearing species.
It is periodically suggested that overproduction serves parental interests as
a screening process. The idea is that creating a surplus initially could allow
parents a chance to assess and then select the most promising individuals,
thereby upgrading those who will be retained for full investment. This has
intuitive appeal for anyone who has test-driven several cars before purchase,
but it is easy to overlook the fact that test drives are free. Once a female bird
has produced an egg (typically constituting a nontrivial fraction of her body
mass) or a female mammal has carried a fetus to term, the costs are substan-
tial. By contrast, in various plants, such an argument looks promising. For
one thing, the scale of overproduction can be orders of magnitude higher
than for most animals. Moreover, a female plant’s opportunity for premat-
ing choosiness of sexual partner (pollen source) is severely constrained by
her inability to move or otherwise avoid fertilization by a male with which
she is genetically incompatible. Some wonderful experiments have shown
that fruit abscission (separation of fruit from a branch) can depend critically
on paternity (i.e., on pollen genotypes), lending clear support for this view.
Specifically, ova fertilized by pollen from donor plants adapted to similar
conditions as the receiving plant are retained, while those pollinated by
males with less compatible genes tend to be abscised. The genetic comple-
mentarity of the two mated parents plays a key role in determining offspring
success.
This logic of parental choice seems ill suited to siblicidal birds for several
reasons, not least of which being that the whole handicapping exercise
(hatching asynchrony, yolk steroids, etc.) would tend to mask genetic varia-
tion, thereby eliminating the basis for making beneficial choices. A black
eagle that might benefit from hatching two eggs and “letting them fight it
out” to see which chick is more deserving of full investment would ruin
its own plan by randomly awarding one rival a three-day growth advantage;
the genetically superior chick would be killed by its inferior older sib
roughly half the time for reasons unrelated to their relative levels of intrinsic
quality.
SIBLICIDE IN BIRDS 163
advantage and claim better positions, thus growing more rapidly than other-
wise (Fraser & Thompson, 1990). In general, one expects to find aggression
used any time there is something at stake (limited resources) that is economi-
cally favorable (gains exceeding costs). When those conditions do not hold,
there may still be just as much brood reduction but through less flamboyant
behavioral processes. In many songbirds, for example, comparable rates of
runt mortality have been reported as for these large siblicidal birds, but there
is a striking lack of evidence for overt aggression playing a central role. Of
course, a marginal chick that is simply unable to compete effectively for paren-
tal food deliveries and ends up succumbing to starvation is every bit as dead as
one that has been bludgeoned first by nestmates, so many of the puzzles
remain.
making the only decision. The model gets a bit less genial if there are two or
more senior siblings because then there are multiple parties carrying slightly
dissimilar agendas (slightly different tipping points). As well, as brood size
enlarges the loss of one chick represents a smaller fraction of the total fitness
pool affecting the surviving family members’ inclusive fitness scores. This argu-
ment need not be extended here, but it casts light on some interesting facets.
First, selection operates on results at the cycle’s end, so a few peculiar phe-
nomena that seemed anomalous initially must be considered in a somewhat
extended time frame. Early observations of siblicide in black eagles showed
that the senior chick typically kills its one junior sibling long before an actual
food shortage is realized. This gave the clear impression that the fighting must
not be over food (executions were documented amid piles of prey carcasses
strewn about). Confusion stemmed from assuming a temporal immediacy that
may not apply. That is, a surfeit of food early (when offspring are too small to
consume much) may well be the wrong cue on which to base a tolerance/intol-
erance decision if it is highly likely that the two growing eaglets will need so
much more food later that parental delivery rates will soon prove inadequate.
If that future crunch occurs often enough, then selection may well reward a
preemptive strategy that eliminates the sole rival early, while it is still small
and weak, rather than waiting until it is formidable and able to retaliate dan-
gerously. Black eagles are pigeonholed as practicing obligate siblicide, mean-
ing that the stronger hatchling virtually always kills its nestmate quickly,
which is comprehensible if deferred shortages are likely.
For species with less predictable resource shortfalls, the outcome is less pre-
determined. Here, the relevant cues are likely to materialize more gradually
and to vary across species that differ ecologically. Moreover, because death is
irreversible, nonlethal solutions that nevertheless suffice to buffer core brood
members during a risky period of ecological duress have the attractive feature
of flexibility by not crossing the point of no return. Specifically, if stronger off-
spring can control investment allocation well enough to avoid jeopardizing
themselves while retaining the marginal sibling’s viability —keeping it in a
temporary limbo from which it may still recover—toleration seems preferable.
Sparing the rod may allow them to redeem the runt’s indirect contributions,
but only if that does not spoil the child. In the rosy version of this scenario,
the runt may experience a mere delay in its growth trajectory. This has been
suspected for some time (e.g., Forbes & Ydenberg, 1992), but the necessary
data for testing it are elusive. Specifically, one needs a facultative (i.e.,
context-conditional) brood-reducing species in which the young produced in
one year can be rediscovered reliably some years down the line when they have
become adult breeders. Once located, these individuals must be followed for
SIBLICIDE IN BIRDS 167
success incentivizes the decisions made by siblings to tolerate (not kill) them as
nestlings. These are rare and precious findings but are limited to two groups of
marine birds that are both siblicidal and sufficiently philopatric to render these
long-term effects accessible. There is, of course, no guarantee that all siblicidal
species will follow suit. If birds that seldom show clemency to lesser siblings
(the so-called obligate siblicide of various cranes, pelicans, eagles, etc.), such
lack of toleration may have been shaped by lingering effects of early food dep-
rivation. Clearly further studies will be needed to help resolve this puzzle.
thefts and physical abuse already meted out are likely to have abridged that
value considerably.
The unique feature of death in this context is, of course, that it is irrevers-
ible. Even if voluntary suicide is less likely than execution of a nestmate to
reduce competition for food, the benefits accruing to surviving siblings are
far from simple. In addition to the withering victim scenario sketched above,
we know of two species—cattle egrets (Bubulcus ibis) and brown pelicans
(Pelecanus occidentalis)—in which parents have been shown to respond to
brood reduction by keeping more of the total food budget for themselves
(Mock & Lamey, 1991; Ploger, 1997). In such birds, the fitness incentives
available for killing a nestmate are not readily apparent but surely include
the survivors’ viability being affordable to their parents under a wider array
of ecological conditions.
JUST AS DEAD
This article is on avian siblicide per se, but a few words must be offered
about forms of fatal sibling rivalry that do not involve overt aggression. Non-
aggressive forms of brood reduction are much more common and surely share
similar costs and benefits as the more brutal alternatives, so we may learn
many things about siblicide’s fitness trade-offs from species that do not
actually practice siblicide. Many avian taxa exhibit the patterns of overproduc-
tion and early parental manipulations of competitive ability, so the limitation
of food still seems to play the central role, even though the behavioral mecha-
nisms by which these supplies are distributed involve no violent activities.
Instead, uneven allocation is effected by such mundane processes as begging
(i.e., signaling to the food providers), vying for nest locations where food is
most likely to be transferred, and parents simply doling out food to certain
mouths preferentially. In these families, the victim typically dies from starva-
tion that is not enforced or accelerated by physical abuse. The end result is
much the same.
One way of looking at this comparison of siblicidal versus nonviolent brood
reduction is to postulate that the first category’s overt aggression is an attempt
by senior siblings to usurp parental control over family size. To the degree that
this is valid, these nonsiblicidal species may provide a clearer picture of what
parents are trying to accomplish. For example, tiny nestlings may signal their
desire for more food in various vivid ways, but they cannot coerce their parents
in any direct way to comply with those requests. Some clever indirect argu-
ments have been offered (e.g., that loud begging serves as a form of blackmail,
forcing parents to deliver more before a predator detects the nest), but for the
170 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
most part begging is seen as merely the offspring’s weaker end of the dynamic.
There is much controversy surrounding the issues of just what these signals
convey, ranging from a helpless plea for aid (most exaggerated when the signal-
er’s need is highest; Godfray, 1991, 1995) to an advertisement of offspring
promise (most exaggerated when the signaler’s need is lowest; Mock et al.,
2011). All such discussions need to consider the possibility that parents are
not necessarily committed to bringing all nestlings to maturity, which merely
recognizes that the equivocation implied by sibling asymmetries may well
indicate brood reduction as part of the overall parental strategy.
PARENTAL COMPLICITY
The initially puzzling fact that the powerful adults stand by passively during
the lengthy process of siblicide, which ranges from a couple days up to multi-
ple weeks across species, is similarly best explained in terms of parents favoring
brood reduction under various circumstances. Long before the nestlings have
any real say over optimal family size, avian parents have set two preconditions
(an optimistic clutch size and a within-brood competitive hierarchy) that seem
superficially at odds with each other, but which can now be considered as two
sides of the same coin. If the initial overproduction carries sufficient value (as
protection for raising fewer or less viable young than can be afforded), then
manipulations of the competition keep brood-reduction costs low so as to
maximize the parents’ net fitness benefits.
This Machiavellian view of parental manipulation leads naturally to the
question of why parents do not simply do their own dirty work. Why is filial
(parental) infanticide not more common? We know that it is quite easy for
adults to kill young nestlings in many species because they readily dispatch
neighbors’ offspring (e.g., in dense nesting colonies) and may even use them
as food. So why not play hit man within the family once ecological conditions
have deteriorated to the point where parents should favor brood reduction?
This puzzle has not been discussed at much length, but the problem may
reduce to whether parents have any clear means of recognizing the hypotheti-
cal tipping point at which their interests are better served by the victim’s
death. There are simple enough reasons for imagining that such a point may
be reached sooner for senior siblings than for parents (O’Connor, 1978), so
the family member(s) most likely to take overt action are the victim’s peers.
Our expectations that parents should try to thwart siblicide can now be seen
as built on the assumption that these different thresholds are recognizable to
both generations, but a general explanation for laissez-faire parenting may rest
on the imperfect information that all parties have about the ecological realities
SIBLICIDE IN BIRDS 171
(i.e., family budget) under which the drama is unfolding. Once parents have
established an effective mechanism for family size to adjust itself, they may
have no better tactic than to let it play out on its own terms. It may be worth
noting that filial infanticide, when it has been observed, is very swift and sure,
so a more extended drama might be advantageous before the point of no
return is reached.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I thank Ken Yasukawa for his patience and Matt Taylor and Elise Knowl-
ton for providing comments on an earlier draft of this manuscript.
172 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Mock, D. W. & T. C. Lamey. (1991). The role of brood size in regulating egret sib-
ling aggression. American Naturalist, 138, 1015–1026.
Mock, D. W. & G. A. Parker. (1986). Advantages and disadvantages of ardeid brood
reduction. Evolution, 40, 459–470.
Mock, D. W. & G. A. Parker. (1997). The Evolution of Sibling Rivalry. London:
Oxford University Press.
Mock, D. W. & G. A. Parker. (1998). Siblicide, family conflict, and the evolutionary
limits of selfishness. Animal Behaviour, 56, 1–10.
Müller M. S., E. T. Porter, J. K. Grace, J. A. Awkerman, K. T. Birchler, A. R. Gun-
derson, E. G. Schneider, M. A. Westbrock, & D. J. Anderson. (2011). Mal-
treated nestlings exhibit correlated maltreatment as adults: Evidence of a
“cycle of violence” in Nazca boobies (Sula granti). Auk, 128, 615–619.
O’Connor, R. J. (1978). Brood reduction in birds: Selection for infanticide, fratricide,
and suicide? Animal Behaviour, 26, 79–96.
Ploger, B. J. (1997). Does brood reduction provide nestling survivors with a food
bonus? Animal Behaviour, 54, 1063–1076.
Sánchez-Macouzet, O. & H. Drummond. (2011). Sibling bullying during infancy
does not make wimpy adults. Biology Letters, 7, 869–871.
Trivers, R. L. (1974) Parent-offspring conflict. American Zoologist, 14, 249–264.
This page intentionally left blank
7
Table 7.1. Species in which functionally referential signaling has been demon-
strated.
Category of functionally
Species referential signals Source
(Poecile carolinensis)
Raven Food Heinrich & Marzluff,
(Corvus corvax) 1991
Bugnyar et al., 2001
Japanese great tit Terrestrial and aerial Suzuki, 2012
(Parus major minor) predators
Chimpanzee Food Hauser & Wrangham,
(Pan troglodytes) 1987;
Slocombe &
Zuberbühler, 2006
Bonobo Food Clay & Zuberbühler,
(Pan paniscus) 2009;
Clay & Zuberbühler,
2011
Mandrill Food Laidre, 2006
(Mandrillus sphinx)
Tufted capuchin monkey Food, aerial predators Di Bitetti, 2003, 2005;
(Cebus apella nigritus) Wheeler, 2010
White-faced capuchin Food, aerial predators Digweed et al., 2005;
monkey
(Cebus capucinus) Gros-Louis, 2004a,
2004b, 2006
Red-bellied tamarin Food Caine et al., 1995
(Saguinus labiatus)
Black-fronted titi Terrestrial and aerial Cäsar et al. 2012
monkeys predator
(Callicebus nigrifrons)
Marmoset Food Kitzmann & Caine,
(Callithrix geoffroyi) 2009
Diana monkey Terrestrial and aerial Zuberbühler et al.,
(Cercopithecus diana) predators 1999
Gunnison’s prairie dog Terrestrial and aerial Kiriazis &
predators Slobodchikoff, 2006
(continued)
178 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
(Cynomys gunnisoni)
African mongoose Terrestrial and aerial Manser et al., 2002
(Surakarta suricatta) predators
Meerkat Terrestrial and aerial Manser et al., 2001
(Suricata suricatta) predators
(Kitzmann & Caine, 2009), tufted capuchins (Sapajus apella) (Di Bitetti,
2003), and rhesus macaques (Macaca mulatta) (Hauser & Marler, 1993) and
birds, including ravens (Bugnyar et al., 2001), house sparrows (Passer domesti-
cus) (Elgar, 1986), and cliff swallows (Petrochelidon pyrrhonota) (Brown et al.,
1991), give functionally referential calls in the presence of food.
Referential communication is not limited to vocalizations. Ravens use refer-
ential gestures to show or offer items to other ravens (Pika & Bugnyar, 2011),
and chimpanzees use pointing to solicit grooming on inaccessible parts of their
bodies (Pika & Mitani, 2006). In captivity, chimpanzees have also been
known to use gestures to elicit assistance from humans (Leavens et al., 2004;
Liebal & Pika, 2007).
response, and this information is encoded in their alarm calls (Macedonia &
Evans, 1993). In contrast, urgency of response may be more important than
the specific type of predator approaching for species with only one escape
strategy, for example fleeing to the nearest cover or burrow. An excellent
example of this type of urgency-base alarm signaling is found in sciurids, par-
ticularly marmots (Blumstein, 2007). Of 14 species of marmot studied, none
produced functionally referential alarm calls. Although these ground-dwelling
species face threats from the air and the land, their escape response depends
on the immediacy of the threat rather than the hunting tactic of the predator.
Other factors, such as sociality and habitat structure, have been suggested as
possible drivers of referential alarm signals (Evans, 1997). Referential alarm
signals may have been more likely to evolve in species with stable social
groups that may include several generations of descendant kin or where the
likelihood of repeated interactions and thus reciprocity between individuals
is higher. Evidence in support of this hypothesis is thus far lacking. Habitat
structure has been presented as an argument for more specificity in alarm sig-
naling. Consider the trade-off between alarm calling to the approach of an
innocuous species (type I error) and failing to respond to a dangerous preda-
tor (type II error). Each type of error imposes a cost on the signaler and
receiver, the first in wasted time and the second in loss of life. Species that
inhabit open areas should have longer to assess potential threats and may
therefore be more specific in their responses (Walters, 1990). This, however,
may not be the determinant of whether a species produces a referential alarm
but instead may determine the specificity of the stimuli that are categorized
as a predator by that species. Interestingly, meerkats do not fit the incompat-
ible escape hypothesis because they only have one escape strategy but pro-
duce referential signals. Nor does habitat complexity have explanatory
power because other sympatric ground-dwelling species do not produce
referential alarms. Instead, the need to coordinate group movements for for-
aging efficiency may have exerted a sufficient selective pressure in this species
(Furrer & Manser, 2009).
It is important to recognize that there is no inherent incompatibility
between response-urgency-based and referential signals. There are examples
of species that produce both, such as Gunnison’s prairie dogs and meerkats,
and others, such as the red-fronted lemurs (Eulemur fulvus rufus) and white
sifakas (Propithecus verreauxi verreauxi) of Madagascar, that produce referential
signals for one class of predator and urgency-based signals for another (Fitchel
& Kappeler, 2002).
Unlike alarm calls, food-associated communication does not appear to
have a unifying function, and the selective forces that lead to functionally
182 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
referential food calls are still poorly understood (Clay et al., 2012). Far fewer
species produce referential food calls than produce referential alarm signals.
The majority of species produce food-associated calls under multiple con-
texts, and therefore the calls do not meet the production criteria for func-
tional reference. Instead, they appear to serve multiple functions, such as
advertisement of resource ownership or of the signaler’s status, or are a direct
indication of the affective state of the caller (reflecting excitement over the
discovery of food or other scarce resources (e.g., Toque macaques [Macaca
sinica] using the same call for rain after a drought and upon finding food
[Dittus, 1988]). In further contrast to alarm signals, species tend to produce
one type of call and vary the call rate in response to characteristics of the
feeding opportunity rather than giving distinct calls for each type of food.
Further research is needed into the forces that may have selected for referen-
tial signaling about food.
Signal Structure
Communication, referential or otherwise, imposes costs on the signaler and
receiver. For such behavior to persist, the benefits must equal or outweigh
these costs. At first glance, alarm calls present a serious conundrum to the
study of animal communication because the calls potentially expose the ani-
mal to a predator, which may increase the likelihood of capture and death (a
high cost to pay). On the other hand, the benefit to the receiver is obvious,
as long as the signal reliably indicates the presence of a predator (see the sec-
tion on deception below). However, there are ways in which alarm signaling
may benefit the signaler. Calls may lessen the individual’s likelihood of capture
if they spread the risk among other prey that is present. This may be achieved
by manipulating other prey into revealing their location, by synchronizing
escape responses, or by recruiting conspecifics to mob the predator (Bradbury
& Vehrencamp, 1998). Calls may also affect predator behavior by deterring a
current attack (“perception advertisement hypothesis,” Curio, 1978) or by
lessening the likelihood of future attacks (Shultz, 2001). Calls may indirectly
benefit the signaler if the group is composed of mates, offspring, or other close
relatives, which are more likely to survive following the warning signal (May-
nard Smith, 1965).
Some species also employ risk compensation or risk management tactics,
which may help to offset the cost of alarm signaling (Owings & Hennessy,
1984). Two such tactics are selectivity in call production and variation in the
acoustic characteristics of the call. The audience effect is a common phenome-
non, wherein a behavior is only produced in the presence of an appropriate
REFERENTIAL SIGNALS : A WINDOW INTO ANIMAL MINDS 183
same response to each channel, which suggests each modality transmits the
same information. These signals can be further divided into two subcatego-
ries (Partan & Marler, 1999, 2005). Equivalent signals evoke the same
responses singly or combined, whereas signals classified as enhancement gen-
erate a higher level of response when combined. The second major category
of signal type is nonredundant (or multiple messages; Møller & Pomiankow-
ski, 1993; Johnstone, 1996). These signals can convey different information
in each modality, and the combined signal can alter the information content.
An example of nonredundant signaling that many people are probably famil-
iar with, but do not realize it, is the “play-bow.” Dogs often simultaneously
bark and lower their heads towards the ground in a bowing posture. The ears
are often forward. Barking with the ears forward is an aggressive display, but
when combined with the bowing posture the message changes from aggres-
sion to a solicitation to play.
Redundant, equivalent signals are the most common in animal communi-
cation. These signals have several potential benefits. Producing two signals
may enhance the detectability of the display as well as increase the ease with
which the receiver can determine the message (known as discriminability).
This may be critical in a noisy environment where the signaler may be com-
peting with individuals of its own and other species as well as masking noise
produced by wind, water, or even humans. Previous research also suggests that
multiple signals increase the memorability of the signal and signaler (Rowe,
1999).
In some systems, the components of a multimodal signal can be flexibly
combined (also called “fluid” or “free” signals; Wickler, 1978). Most commu-
nication occurs within a matrix of receivers, such as competitors, predators, or
parasites, which may impose an additional cost on the signaler. Redundant sig-
nals allow the signaler to produce just one channel without altering the mes-
sage. This flexibility may reduce the cost of signaling if it limits the
attraction of these unwanted individuals (Johnstone, 1996; Peake, 2006;
McGregor, 2009).
These general principles for the structure of signals appear to be valid for
both referential and nonspecific communication. Indeed, it is often, but not
always (see Figure 7.1), the case that signals that encode information about
very different types of events have contrasting structures. However, the analy-
sis of the meaning of signals has provided little in the way of insights into the
specific form of referential signals. Comparative studies are needed to deter-
mine if there is any correlation between signal structure and meaning across
taxa.
Figure 7.1. Acoustic structures of calls with different functions. Calls that encode infor-
mation about different types of events often have contrasting structures, such as the
calls produced by male fowl (Gallus gallus) in response to aerial compared to ground
predators. However, calls produced in the context of food have very similar structure
to those elicited by ground predators. It is apparent that signal structure alone cannot
be used to predict signal meaning. Instead, selective pressures arising from the sig-
naling context, such as the need to remain cryptic around aerial predators, may have
shaped the signal’s characteristics.
186 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
explain the response without invoking any form of more complex cognition.
That is, the animal’s response could be based on perceptual processing, using
the physical form of the signal rather than the associated meaning. On the
other hand, referential signals may form a mental representation of that event
in the mind of the receiver. If the response to the calls relies upon a mental
process, then the signal must stimulate retrieval of stored information that
then determines receiver response. This property corresponds to Charles Gal-
listel’s (1990) “nominal representation,” which is the lowest level of cognitive
complexity, wherein the signals “stand for” something in the environment.
“Prime-probe” experiments are one tool that researchers use as a means of
investigating the potential underlying cognitive processes of animal signals. In
these experiments, the animal experiences two stimuli in sequence that are either
congruent or incongruent. For example, the eagle alarm call of a Diana monkey
(Cercopithecus diana) is played to a group of monkeys. A short time later, another
sound is played, either the shriek of an eagle (congruent with the previous sound)
or a leopard alarm call (representing a different predator class). When the two
pieces of information are in agreement, the Diana monkeys do not give new
alarm calls. When the second stimulus provides different information, the mon-
keys call. This suggests that the sound of the eagle alarm call generates a mental
representation of a specific predator type in the mind of the listener and that this
expectation affects the reaction to the subsequent event (Zuberbühler et al.,
1999). This type of response appears to require the storage and retrieval of past
experiences or knowledge, which are then compared to the current conditions,
which is why these signals are known as representational.
Deception
The term deception is extremely contentious in the context of animal com-
munication. It is often used in two contexts. The first is in a functional sense,
in which the initiator of the “deceptive” act benefits by behaving in a manner
that causes another to alter its behavior in a costly way. It is agnostic about the
underlying mental state of both the signaler and the responder and focuses sim-
ply on the outcome of the behavior. The second usage has cognitive implica-
tions. Under this definition, the “deceptive” act can be evaluated using four
criteria: two relating to the signaler and two to the responder. The first is the
mental state of the signaler. In the most rigorous definition of cognitive decep-
tion, the signaler would have the ability to attribute mental states to itself and
to others. This ability is known as “theory of mind.” The second criterion deals
with the intentionality of the signaler’s action to change the behavior of the
responder (i.e., the initiator’s behavior is not simply a reflexive response to a
heightened emotional state). The remaining two criteria focus on the responder.
REFERENTIAL SIGNALS : A WINDOW INTO ANIMAL MINDS 189
The first criterion asks about the responder’s mental state. Does the signaler’s
action create a mental representation of an external event in the responder’s
mind? The final criterion is whether or not the responder’s actions are based
on that mental representation.
We can examine each of these criteria using a fascinating example of deceptive
behavior by fork-tailed drongos (Dicrurus adsimilis). These birds live in the Kala-
hari Desert and share the same habitat, and eat many of the same things, as meer-
kats. Meerkats eavesdrop on the alarm calls of the drongos and respond to them
as if a predator is approaching. If an alarm call is given while a meerkat is feeding,
it will often drop the food and run for cover. However, drongos occasionally
alarm call in the absence of a predator. This generates the same response from
the meerkat as if the predator were present. Once the meerkat has dropped the
food, the drongo flies down and takes it (Flower, 2010). In the functional sense,
the drongo has deceived the meerkat by producing a false alarm call (i.e., in the
absence of a predator), thereby causing the meerkat to give up its meal. What
about in the cognitive sense? It would be tempting to imagine that the drongo
intends to deceive the meerkat by creating a false belief in the meerkat that a
predator is approaching. However, juvenile drongos often watch adults steal
food from other species; therefore the behavior may actually reflect trial-and-
error learning rather than a cognitive task requiring the drongo to have a theory
of mind. Because a conclusive experimental test for theory of mind remains elu-
sive, let us discount the first criterion and examine the later three. It appears that
the drongo’s false alarm calls are not reflexive (although they have not been
shown to be specific enough to be referential) because they are more likely to
be given when the target animal has a small food item that can be taken and
quickly consumed (Flower & Gribble, 2012). This also suggests that the calls
are not simply a reflection of the caller’s excitement over the potential for food.
If this were the case, larger food sources would be predicted to have a great excita-
tory effect and hence to elicit more false alarm calls. This further suggests that the
call production is under intentional control of the drongo, which meets the sec-
ond signaler criteria. From the responder perspective, meerkat alarm calls are
functionally referential (Manser et al., 2001), which suggests that the response
to the drongo call is not reflexive. However, it has not been experimentally dem-
onstrated that the alarms of either species are representational and hence meet
the second signaler and responder criteria. This example demonstrates the diffi-
culties and pitfalls of attempting to classify a behavior as cognitively deceptive.
But we cannot ignore deceptive behavior. There are a tremendous number of
examples of deceptive behavior (in the functional sense) in nature (e.g., primates:
Byrne & Whiten, 1988; fishes: Bshary, 2002; stomatopods: Adams & Caldwell,
1990), and deception may have shaped animal communication.
190 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 7.2. Ground alarm calls of male fowl and an example of the female’s visual
response. Ground alarm calls are high-amplitude, short pulses given in long bouts
by both males and females. Production of these calls is not subject to the audience
effect. The calls are easily localizable, suggesting that they may be directed at the
predator as well as conspecifics. Both males and females respond to the calls by
standing erect and scanning in the horizontal plane.
192 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 7.3. Aerial alarm calls of male fowl and example of females’ visual response. Aer-
ial alarm calls are low-amplitude vocalizations consisting of an initial pulse followed by
a relatively long second component. Male fowl flexibly change the composition of
their aerial alarm signals, omitting the more conspicuous broadband component, in
subsequent calls. The narrow bandwidth and short duration of the calls reduces their
localizability, allowing the caller to remain cryptic. This class of call is subject to the
audience effect. Both males and females react to the vocalizations by crouching down,
sleeking their feathers, and looking upward.
being detected and caught. The production of aerial alarm calls by both males
and females is hence governed by an audience effect: any conspecific potenti-
ates calling in males, but females will only call if they have chicks. In fact,
males are significantly more likely to call if they have recently mated (Wilson
& Evans, 2008). In stark contrast to the structure of ground alarm calls, aerial
alarm calls are more tonal and significantly quieter. These call characteristics
make the caller difficult for the predator to localize but still function to alert
his mate (Wood et al., 2000; Bayly & Evans, 2003). Males also vary the com-
position and duration of their calls. During an encounter, males often produce
a series of aerial alarm calls. The first call often begins with a brief (<200 ms)
broadband pulse followed by a longer tonal component. The broadband pulse
is omitted from subsequent calls, suggesting that this first sharp sound serves
an alerting function to attract the attention of the hen. Once the call is
detected, the broadband pulse would serve no further function (Figure 7.3)
(Bayly & Evans, 2003). In addition, the likelihood, composition, and dura-
tion of the calls are dependent upon the male’s personal risk. Males give
longer-duration alarms, which increase the likelihood of signal detection by
both the female and the predator, when they are closer to a refuge. They are
also more likely to call in response to their rival’s call when they are protected
under the cover of a tree or shrub. Lastly, dominant males produce longer calls
when their subordinate is nearby (Kokolakis et al., 2010). By selectively calling
REFERENTIAL SIGNALS : A WINDOW INTO ANIMAL MINDS 193
when the subordinate is close by, the dominant may further reduce his risk of
capture by giving the predator more than one target (the dilution effect for
predators choosing between multiple targets [Bertram, 1978] and the confu-
sion effect when prey are fleeing [Schradin, 2000]).
These functionally referential aerial alarm calls are also urgency-based signals.
Fowl communicate the size, speed, and proximity of flying birds using graded
variation in their calls. Flying birds that are closer, larger, and faster generate
alarm calls that are shorter, louder, and lower in frequency (Wilson & Evans,
2012). It is also interesting to note that unlike some species, males call in
response to a broad range of stimuli moving overhead, including both predators
and innocuous objects. The birds appear to use a general rule of thumb, calling
to any overhead objects that exceed a specific threshold for size and apparent
speed (Evans et al., 1993). This may be an adaptive response to the dense forest
habitat in which fowl evolved. The birds would have only a short period of time
to assess the threat, and incorrectly categorizing a true threat may be more costly
than the time spent responding to nonthreatening stimuli.
The females’ response to an aerial predator alarm call is also very different from
their reaction to a ground alarm call. Females crouch down, sleek their feathers,
and fixate upwards using their left eye. This behavior reduces the hen’s conspic-
uousness and brings to bear the brain hemisphere best suited for locating small,
rapidly moving targets, such as aerial predators. Experimental studies using audio
and video (including live footage and animations) reveal that both the produc-
tion and perception of fowl alarm calls meet the criteria for functional reference.
Figure 7.4. Tidbitting display and female’s response. Upon discovery of a food item in
the presence of a female, males perform visual and vocal signals that specifically indi-
cate the availability of food. The visual display is composed of a series of movements,
including side-to-side twitches of the head, short bobs of the head and neck down
towards the ground and back to the upright position, and long bobs that bring the
head down towards the ground before rapidly sweeping up again. Males often pick up
food during long bobs and hold it in their mandibles for a period of time before either
dropping it or ingesting it. The visual display is usually accompanied by pulsatile
vocalizations. Males selectively perform the tidbitting display when a female is
present. Both components of the display are functionally referential. Females often
approach the male and begin food searching near him by binocularly fixating on the
substrate (as shown in the right-most image). Females food search with equal intensity
to both the visual display alone and vocalizations alone.
plane. The male often uses these long sweeps to pick up and manipulate the
food item before dropping it again (Figure 7.4).
Under natural conditions, this performance often entices one or more hens
to approach the tidbitting male and food search near him, sometimes taking
the food item directly from his mandibles (Gyger & Marler, 1988; Marler
et al., 1986). Playback experiments confirmed that females discriminate
REFERENTIAL SIGNALS : A WINDOW INTO ANIMAL MINDS 195
females stop responding if the male calls too often in the absence of food
(Evans & Evans, unpublished data). Despite meeting three of the four criteria
for cognitive deception, we are still unable to conclusively categorize this as a
positive example. Because the study was entirely observational, there are too
many unanswerable questions regarding the male’s behavior (e.g., a human
observer classified the object as inedible). Further research is still needed to
understand this apparently deceptive behavior.
Chickens provide a robust and tractable model in which we can observe
and experimentally test the function of specific signals. The distinct and easily
quantifiable nature of the receiver response allow for inferences into the under-
lying cognitive processes of animal communication (see Figure 7.5).
This is not a new argument. Over 30 years ago, Richard Dawkins and John
Krebs (1978) suggested that the concept of information was inherently mutu-
alistic and hence incompatible with selfish-gene models of evolution. Robert
Hinde (1981) rebutted this charge, pointing out that Dawkins and Krebs
had erected a straw man and that there was no such theoretical conflict. The
attack on information was taken up next by Daniel Owings and Eugene Mor-
ton (1998), who renewed the call to expunge the concept, arguing that an
“assessment/management” perspective would better serve the field. Like
Rendall and colleagues (2009), Owings and Morton (1998) rejected informa-
tion as an explanation for the effects of signals, although they focused more on
function than mechanism.
not the information model, is inconsistent with current theory on signal evo-
lution (Grafen, 1990; Searcy & Nowicki, 2005; Seyfarth et al., 2010).
To these arguments, we would add one additional consideration: the
experiments involving manipulation of putative referents (reviewed earlier)
change only what animals know about the world. The playback sounds are
identical in the various treatments, so there is no structural variation to appeal
to. Essentially, these studies are purely manipulations of “information.” It fol-
lows that the effects obtained are attributable to information. There is a grow-
ing list of such studies in primates and birds (see Table 7.1). It is the nature of
absolute arguments that a single compelling counterexample is sufficient to
disprove them (Popper, 1959). The first of these experiments (Zuberbühler
et al., 1999) thus revealed that the concept of information is an indispensible
component of any general theory of animal communication, while the steady
accumulation of additional findings over the last decade should have made this
indisputable.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We wish to thank L. Evans for her enduring support throughout. Chris
Evans was fortunate to be taught by Pat Bateson and Robert Hinde, who intro-
duced him to the study of animal behavior using an integrative approach encap-
sulated by Tinbergen’s four questions. He later worked with Peter Marler, who
introduced him both to the topic of referential signaling and to fowl as a model
system. He studied these extraordinary creatures for over 20 years.
Kokolakis, A., C. L. Smith, & C. S. Evans. (2010). Aerial alarm calling by male fowl
(Gallus gallus) reveals subtle new mechanisms of risk management. Animal
Behaviour, 79, 1373–1380.
Lachmann, M. & C. T. Bergstrom. (2004). The disadvantage of combinatorial com-
munication. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 271, 2337–2343.
Laidre, M. E. (2006). Manipulation without mind-reading: Information suppression
and leakage during food discovery by mandrills (Mandrillus sphinx). Behaviour,
143, 365–392.
Leavens, D. A. & W. D. Hopkins. (1998). Intentional communication by chimpan-
zees (Pan troglodytes): A cross-sectional study of the use of referential gestures.
Developmental Psychology, 34, 813–822.
Leavens, D. A., W. D. Hopkins, & R. K. Thomas. (2004). Referential communica-
tion by chimpanzees (Pan troglodytes). Journal of Comparative Psychology, 118,
48–57.
Liebal, K. & S. Pika. (2007). “Hands-on communication”: Use of gestures in apes
and humans. In Proceedings of Interacting Bodies Conference, Lyons, France,
2005. http://gesture-lyon2005.ens-lyon.fr/article.php3?id_article=240http://
gesture-lyon2005.ens-lyon.fr/article.php3?id_article=240.
Macedonia, J. M. & C. S. Evans. (1993). Variation among mammalian alarm call sys-
tems and the problem of meaning in animal signals. Ethology, 93, 177–197.
Mahurin, E. J. & T. M. Freeberg. (2009). Chick-a-dee call variation in Carolina
chickadees and recruiting flockmates to food. Behavioral Ecology, 20, 111–116.
Manser, M. B., M. B. Bell, & L. B. Fletcher. (2001). The information that receivers
extract from alarm calls in suricates. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London,
B, 268, 2485–2491.
Manser, M. B., Seyfarth, R. M. & Cheney, D. L. (2002). Suricate alarm calls signal
predator class and urgency. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 6, 55–57.
Marler, P. (1955). Characteristics of some animal calls. Nature, 176, 6–8.
Marler, P. (1976). Social organization, communication, and graded signals: The
chimpanzee and the gorilla. In P. P. G. Bateson & R. A. Hinde (eds.), Growing
Points in Ethology (pp. 239–280). Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University
Press.
Marler, P., A. Dufty, & R. Pickert. (1986). Vocal communication in the domestic
chicken: I. Does a sender communicate information about the quality of a
food referent to a receiver? Animal Behaviour, 34, 188–193.
Marler, P., C. S. Evans, & M. Hauser. (1992). Animal signals: Motivational, referen-
tial, or both? In H. Papousek, U. Jurgens, & M. Papousek (eds.), Nonverbal
Vocal Communication: Comparative and Developmental Approaches (pp. 66–
86). Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Maynard Smith, J. (1965). The evolution of alarm calls. American Naturalist, 99, 59–
63.
McBride, G., I. P. Parer, & F. Foenander, (1969). The social organisation and behav-
iour of the feral domestic fowl. Animal Behaviour Monographs, 2, 127–181.
REFERENTIAL SIGNALS : A WINDOW INTO ANIMAL MINDS 205
Rogers, L. (1990). Light input and the reversal of functional lateralization in the
chicken brain. Behavioural Brain Research, 38, 211–221.
Rowe, C. (1999). Receiver psychology and the evolution of multicomponent signals.
Animal Behaviour, 58, 921–931.
Ryan, M. J. & A. S. Rand. (1998). Evoked vocal response in male túngara frogs: Pre-
existing biases in male responses? Animal Behavior, 56, 1509–1516.
Schradin, C. (2000). Confusion effect in a reptilian and a primate predator. Ethology,
106, 691–700.
Searcy, W. A. & S. Nowicki. (2005). The Evolution of Animal Communication.
Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Seyfarth, R. M., & D. L. Cheney. (2010). Production, usage, and comprehension in
animal vocalizations. Brain and Language, 115, 92–100.
Seyfarth, R. M., D. L. Cheney, & T. Bergman. (2005). Primate social cognition and
the origins of language. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 9, 264–266.
Seyfarth, R. M., D. L. Cheney, T. Bergman, J. Fische, K. Zuberbühler, &
K. Hammerschmidt. (2010). The central importance of information in studies
of animal communication. Animal Behaviour, 80, 3–8.
Seyfarth, R. M., D. L. Cheney, & P. Marler. (1980). Monkey responses to three dif-
ferent alarm calls: Evidence of predator classification and semantic communi-
cation. Science, 210, 801–803.
Sherman. P. (1980). The meaning of nepotism. The American Naturalist, 116, 604–606.
Sherman, P. W. (1985). Alarm calls of Belding’s ground squirrels to aerial predators:
Nepotism or self-preservation? Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 17,
313–323.
Shettleworth, S. (2010). Cognition, Evolution, and Behavior. Oxford, UK: Oxford
University Press.
Shultz, S. M. (2001). Notes on interactions between monkeys and African crowned
eagles in Taï National Park, Ivory Coast. Folia Primatologica, 72, 248–250.
Skinner, B. F. (1974). About Behaviorism. New York: Vintage.
Slocombe, K. E. & K. Zuberbuhler. (2005). Functionally referential communication
in a chimpanzee. Current Biology, 15, 1779–1784.
Slocombe, K. E. & K. Zuberbühler. (2006) Food-associated calls in chimpanzees:
Responses to food types or food preferences? Animal Behaviour, 72, 989–999.
Smith, C. L. & C. S. Evans. (2008). Multimodal signaling in fowl, Gallus gallus. Jour-
nal of Experimental Biology, 211, 2052–2057.
Smith, C. L. & C. S. Evans. (2009). Silent tidbitting in male fowl, Gallus gallus: A
referential visual signal with multiple functions. Journal of Experimental Biol-
ogy, 212, 835–842.
Smith, C. L., A. Taylor, & C. S. Evans. (2011). Tactical multimodal signalling in
birds: Facultative variation in signal modality reveals sensitivity to social costs.
Animal Behavior, 82, 521–527.
Smith, C. L., D. A. Van Dyk, P. W. Taylor, & C. S. Evans. (2009). On the function
of an enigmatic ornament: Wattles increase the conspicuousness of visual dis-
plays in male fowl. Animal Behaviour, 78, 1433–1440.
REFERENTIAL SIGNALS : A WINDOW INTO ANIMAL MINDS 207
Srinivasan, M., S. Zhang, & J. Reinhard. (2006). Small brains, smart minds: Vision,
perception, navigation, and “cognition” in insects. In E. Warrant & D. E.
Nilsson (eds.), Invertebrate Vision (pp. 462–493). Cambridge, UK: Cambridge
University Press.
Stokes, A. W. (1971). Parental and courtship feeding in red jungle fowl. Auk, 88,
21– 29.
Stokes, A. W. & H. W. Williams. (1971). Courtship feeding in gallinaceous birds. Auk,
88, 543–559.
Stokes, A. W. & H. W. Williams. (1972). Feeding calls in gallinaceous birds. Auk,
89, 177–180.
Struhsaker, T. T. (1967). Auditory communication among vervet monkeys (Cerco-
pithecus aethiops). In S. Altmann (ed.), Social Communication among Primates
(pp. 281–324). Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Suzuki, T. N. (2012). Referential mobbing calls elicit different predator-searching
behaviours in Japanese great tits. Animal Behaviour, 84, 53–57.
Templeton, C. N., E. Greene, & K. Davis. (2005). Allometry of alarm calls: Black-
capped chickadees encode information about predator size. Science, 308,
1934–1937.
Van Dyk, D. & C. S. Evans. (2008). Opponent assessment in lizards: Examining the
effect of aggressive and submissive signals. Behavioral Ecology, 19, 895–901.
von Frisch, K. (1967). The Dance Language and Orientation of Bees. Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press.
Walters, J. R. (1990). Anti-predatory behavior of lapwings: Field evidence of discrimi-
native abilities. Wilson Bulletin, 102, 49–70.
Watanabe, S. & N. F. Troje. (2006). Towards a “virtual pigeon”: A new technique for
investigating avian social perception. Animal Cognition, 9, 271–279.
Wenner, A. M. (2002). The elusive honey bee dance “language” hypothesis. Journal
of Insect Behavior, 15, 859–878.
Wenner, A. M. (2006). A failure to “resolve” the bee language controversy. American
Bee Journal, 146, 561–561.
Wheeler, B. (2010). Production and perception of situationally variable alarm calls in
wild tufted capuchin monkeys (Cebus apella nigritus ). Behavioral Ecology and
Sociobiology, 64, 989–1000.
Wickler, W. (1978). A special constraint on the evolution of composite signals. Zeitschrift
für Tierpsychologie, 48, 345–348.
Wilczynski, W., A. S. Rand, & M. J. Ryan. (2001). Evolution of calls and auditory
tuning in the Physalaemus pustulosus species group. Brain Behavior and Evolu-
tion, 58, 137–151.
Wilson, D. R. & C. S. Evans. (2008). Mating success increases alarm-calling effort in
male fowl, Gallus gallus. Animal Behaviour, 76, 2029–2035.
Wilson, D. R. & C. S. Evans. (2012). Fowl communicate the size, speed and proxim-
ity of avian stimuli through graded structure in referential alarm calls. Animal
Behaviour, 83, 535–544.
208 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
WHAT IS A TAMARIN?
Few people have heard about tamarins, often confusing them with a tropical
fruit (tamarind). Tamarins are small monkeys (about the size of a squirrel),
weighing about 1 to 1.5 pounds (450–650 g), that live in the forests of South
America. All species are arboreal, spending almost all their lives in trees, where
they eat tree exudates (sap or gum), small insects and vertebrates, fruits, and
legumes.
Tamarins are part of the family Callitrichidae, which are the most primitive
(ancient) of true monkeys. Most taxonomists consider five genera in the fam-
ily, with tamarins (Saguinus), lion tamarins (Leontopithecus), marmosets (Cal-
lithrix), pygmy marmosets (Cebuella), and Goeldi’s monkey (Callimico).
Many species are found in the Amazon basin in Brazil, Peru, Ecuador, and
Colombia, but a few species are found on the Caribbean coast in Panama
and Colombia and in remnants of the Atlantic coastal forest in eastern Brazil.
Marmosets have specialized teeth that allow them to gouge holes in bark to
create an exudate flow, whereas tamarins and lion tamarins lack these special-
ized teeth and can only obtain exudates when other species open holes in bark.
210 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Unlike other monkeys all marmosets and tamarins have claws that allow them
to climb trees readily.
All species of marmosets and tamarins live in small family groups and are
known as cooperative breeders. This means that not only mothers, or moth-
ers and fathers, but all group members work together to help rear infants.
Mothers usually give birth to twins, and the twins at birth weigh about 10 per-
cent of their mother’s weight (imagine a 130-pound woman giving birth to
two 13-pound babies). Because monkeys (unlike birds) do not build nests,
the heavy infants must be carried by someone as the group moves throughout
its daily range. And because mothers can become pregnant again within a few
weeks of giving birth, the value of having many others help with infant care is
enormous. Typically only one female reproduces at a time. This type of co-
operative child-rearing system is rare among mammals, with meerkats, mon-
gooses, and wolves among the other cooperative breeders. The only other
primate species characterized by cooperative breeding is our own (Hrdy,
1999).
learn more about primate behavior and spent a year working with one of the
world’s foremost primatologists, Thelma Rowell at the University of Califor-
nia, Berkeley. She had a colony of cotton-top tamarins acquired as part of a
divorce settlement some years earlier. One of her graduate students insisted
that her ex-husband and Thelma write a grant so she could study male paren-
tal care. A small number of monkeys were imported just before the species was
declared to be endangered in 1970. By the time I arrived, the grant money had
run out and the student had dropped out of graduate school. Thelma offered
me the monkeys, and I jumped at the opportunity to bring them to
Wisconsin.
Why were cotton-top tamarins endangered? The cotton-top tamarin is
found only in Colombia and only in the northern part of the country, outside
of the Amazon basin adjacent to the Caribbean. This is also one of the areas of
the country with the greatest human population, in two major cities, Barran-
quilla and Cartagena. As the human population expanded, more and more
forest was cut to create grazing land for cattle and to provide building materials
and firewood. Even more critically, because of its relatively close access to the
United States, an estimated 20,000 to 30,000 tamarins had been exported for
biomedical research in the two decades before the species was determined to
be endangered. Today the plight of the cotton-top tamarin is even worse.
More habitat is being destroyed every year, and a survey, published in 2010,
estimated approximately 7,300 cotton-top tamarins remained in the wild
(Savage et al., 2010).
Although habitat preservation is crucial, Colombia has several areas of
political instability, making the creation and enforcement of preserves diffi-
cult. Furthermore, in order to make intelligent decisions about conservation,
good research is needed to know about social organization, behavioral devel-
opment, migration, and more. In the absence of the possibility to create
adequate natural reserves for an endangered species, captive breeding may be
essential. A successful captive breeding environment must allow for multiple
generations to be reared with little or no intervention from humans. Further-
more, the captive environments must allow animals to develop species-typical
behaviors, and, if some behaviors must be acquired through learning, then
adequate learning opportunities must be provided. From a conservation per-
spective, behavioral research has great importance.
But what value can a small, squirrel-sized monkey have for understanding
human behavior? Are not the species closest to us, the great apes, most relevant
for understanding our origins? It is true that tamarins are distantly related to
humans, but they share with us a similar social system that involves small,
close-knit family-like groups. There are two main models for understanding
212 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
much more often than our closest relatives, the great apes, and we humans are
also a highly vocal species. Chimpanzees are remarkably quiet in comparison
to humans. Are there any possible parallels between the vocal communication
of tamarins and aspects of our communication and language?
Human beings appear to have a capacity for cooperation and social support
that is not always seen in great apes. Is there something about a cooperative
breeding system that makes individuals more attentive to other group mem-
bers, more likely to learn from them, and more likely to share resources and
even teach others? Tamarins and their relatives appear to be more capable of
learning from one another, of sharing resources and information about the
location of resources, and even of teaching their young compared with chim-
panzees and our other close relatives.
The study of cotton-top tamarins has provided knowledge about successful
captive breeding and has provided many ideas that can be applied to conserva-
tion. At the same time these studies inform us about interesting aspects of
human behavior that appear to be the result of convergence due to similarities
of cooperative breeding. Now let me tell you about the research methods we
have developed, and then I will move on to some of the interesting results.
Several other researchers have studied aspects of behavior communication
and cognition in cotton-top tamarins, but rather than provide an exhaustive
review, I will focus here primarily on work that my students and collaborators
have done.
Successful Breeding
What was the reason for the lack of breeding success for captive tamarins?
As I looked at the reports from other colonies, I noticed that most facilities
removed infants from their parents, often before natural weaning. Many labs
had nurseries where infants could be fed by hand. The managers of these labs
made two assumptions. The first assumption was that if infants were weaned
214 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
early, mothers would be more likely to start cycling again, because lactation
was thought to suppress ovulation, and thus overall reproductive output
would be greater. The second assumption was that parenting skills were innate
and experience played no role in successful parenting. Both assumptions were
wrong.
Our first hormonal studies showed that mothers ovulated within two to
four weeks after giving birth regardless of whether they were still nursing or
not (Ziegler, Bridson, et al., 1987). Thus there was no suppression due to
nursing. Summaries of colony breeding records from closely related species
showed that breeding success was high when both parents had previous expe-
rience helping others raise their young (Epple, 1978). When only the mother
had prior experience and the father was naïve with respect to infant care, the
number of surviving infants was much lower, and when neither parent had
prior infant care experience, survival rate of their offspring was near zero.
We did an informal experiment when the tamarins were still at Berkeley.
Two males had grown up with no chance to help care for someone else’s off-
spring, and so we took a young infant from another group and presented it
to these two males. As soon as the infant started to cry, one of the males ran
to pick it up, but as soon as the infant was on its back, the male acted as if
he was very uncomfortable and started to bite at the infant and push it off.
As soon as the infant was off, it began crying again, and the males went back
to retrieve it, repeating the process over and over until we retrieved the infant
ourselves and put it back in its family.
All of this suggested that we had to find a new method for husbandry. We
decided that young born into a family should stay long enough to have expe-
rience looking after at least two other sets of offspring. In order to allow for
this we needed large enclosures to house several family members. I also noted
when observing the animals at Berkeley that they were very hesitant to
approach the food and water dishes that we placed on the floor of their cages.
It took some time for me to realize that for monkeys that usually live in trees,
they would naturally be fearful of approaching the ground. So we built large,
high walk-in cages and built platforms for all the food and water at least 1 m
above the floor. Tamarins weigh about 1 percent of an average adult human
and, based on this ratio, the floor space of a family enclosure was the equiva-
lent of a 5,800 square foot (540 m2) house, and that of an enclosure for just
two monkeys the equivalent of a 2,000 square foot (185 m2) house.
Because tamarins have claws and they scent mark a lot, we thought it is
important to have lots of branches and ropes in the cages to simulate an arbo-
real environment. But we ran into trouble with our veterinarian. He wanted
hard surfaces that could be sterilized, but these would be dangerous for
COTTON - TOP TAMARINS 215
climbing and jumping and would not retain the scent marks important for
communication. We finally reached a compromise whereby we were allowed
to use branches and ropes, but we agreed to remove them completely every
three months and replace them with new structures. This had an added ben-
efit of providing new climbing and jumping patterns for the animals to master
and thus keep their sensorimotor skills sharp (Snowdon et al., 1985).
tamarins, like humans, often urinate when they first wake up in the morning,
so it became relatively easy to wake up a cage of animals and go in to follow
the animals from which we wanted to collect a urine sample. This early-
morning collection had another important advantage. Because the monkeys
do not appear to urinate during the night, our samples reflected all of the
hormonal activity from the preceding 12 hours. Thus any pulses of hormonal
release in the blood would be collected and averaged over the 12 hours.
Because we did not have to catch or handle the animals and because animals
urinated several times a day, we did not have to worry about inducing stress
or about reducing red blood cell levels. We could sample an animal every
day, and we could even obtain hormonal samples from a mother on the
day she gave birth and throughout nursing.
But we had to convince skeptics that our measures were valid. My former
student Jeffrey French, now at the University of Nebraska–Omaha, developed
the first assays for estrogen and luteinizing hormones (French et al., 1984),
and my close colleague and collaborator Toni Ziegler of the Wisconsin
National Primate Center has developed and validated many other assays. In
the early validations, we often had to inject a small number of animals with
radioactive hormone tracers so that we could demonstrate that labeled hor-
mones were excreted in urine in proportion to what we had injected (e.g., Zie-
gler et al., 1993). Later on we were able to dispense with using radioactive
hormones, but we have still had to show for each hormone that what we are
measuring makes sense biologically. We have been able to validate assays to
measure the gonadal steroid hormones, testosterone, dihydrotestosterone,
estrogen, and estradiol; the adrenal steroid hormones, cortisol and corticoster-
one; the peptides, oxytocin and vasopessin; and several protein hormones
including prolactin and luteinizing hormone. Oddly enough, we could not
measure progesterone as our radiolabeled studies showed that all of the labeled
progesterone was excreted in the feces and none in the urine (Ziegler et al.,
1993).
The development of hormonal assays for both urine and feces has had far-
reaching effects. Toni Ziegler has collaborated with scientists around the
world to develop noninvasive assays for more than 30 different species,
including many endangered species. As a result field researchers can now
study reproductive function in many species, and efforts to conserve threat-
ened or endangered animals can be based on sound knowledge of reproduc-
tive biology. Today fecal, urinary, and saliva assays have virtually replaced
serum sampling as the method of choice, and we can study a broad array
of species, including humans, with noninvasive methods (Snowdon &
Ziegler, 2007b).
COTTON - TOP TAMARINS 217
The noise from human activities overwhelmed our ability to record tamarin
vocalizations, and we frequently saw tamarins on the ground where the forest
canopy was not dense enough to allow animals to travel from tree to tree.
Nevertheless, Anne Savage and her collaborators studied tamarins at Coloso
for six years until guerilla activity closed off access to the village and its forest.
I will say more about specific field results below.
Toni Ziegler and I had a friendly argument about concealed ovulation. She
had noted that in 85 percent of the ovulations that we observed, the female
became pregnant. She argued that to have such a high rate of conception
females must be communicating when they ovulate to their mates. I argued
that there does not need to be any communication so long as you copulate
at least once a day. Toni developed a brilliant behavioral bioassay where she
collected scent marks each day from an ovulating female and then transferred
the marks to cages with a mated pair where the female was already pregnant.
She found that there was a significant increase in male erections and mounting
of the female on the days with odors from when a novel female was ovulating
compared to odors from other times in her cycle, and the females also solicited
sex more often when exposed to odors of novel ovulating females (Washa-
baugh & Snowdon, 1998). Thus ovulation is concealed only to human scien-
tists, and cotton-top tamarins can readily detect when their mates are
ovulating.
So why do tamarins have sex so often? Much of their sexual behavior is
occurring at times when conception is impossible. What could be the value
of nonconceptive sex? I started looking at data from studies where we had
experimentally manipulated a relationship, and I found increased rates of sex-
ual behavior, huddling, and grooming in reunions after a brief (30 minute)
separation from a mate as well as in response to novel odors from breeding
females. This suggested that nonconceptive sex and other affiliation behavior
may be important in restoring a relationship after some disturbance and that
these behaviors may also be important in the formation of a relationship
(Snowdon & Ziegler, 2007a).
We also noted a clear asymmetry in grooming behavior. In every pair of
wild common marmosets and captive tamarins we have observed, the male
always grooms its mate more than the female grooms him. Furthermore, in
studies of brief separations between tamarins in captivity, we found that males
gave twice as many separation calls as females (Snowdon & Ziegler, 2007a).
Both of these findings are consistent with male paternal uncertainty. If a male
is uncertain of paternity, then he should play a more active role in attending to
his mate, and he should be more anxious when he is separated from her.
In recent years the hormone oxytocin, which was thought to be mainly
involved in uterine contractions at birth and in controlling the milk let-
down reflex in nursing, has been shown to be involved in the formation and
maintenance of pair bonds in female voles, but only in monogamous species
(Carter, 1998). In humans administration of oxytocin through a nasal spray
has been shown to increase feelings of trust in men (e.g., Kosfeld et al.,
2005). Does oxytocin play a role in pair bonding in tamarins?
COTTON - TOP TAMARINS 221
prolactin? If they do, is it after the infants are born, or can males anticipate a
birth by increasing prolactin before birth?
Studies on common marmosets have shown that serum prolactin levels are
higher in both fathers and male helpers while they are carrying infants than
when they are not directly carrying infants (Dixson & George, 1982; Mota
et al., 2006). Other studies have injected a prolactin inhibitor and have found
that fathers were unaffected (Almond et al., 2006), although juvenile males
were less inclined to retrieve infants when injected with a blocker (Roberts
et al., 2001). Our urinary measures were not sensitive enough to differentiate
between when an animal was carrying or not carrying an infant, but we found
that fathers had prolactin levels that were as high as those of nursing mothers
(Ziegler et al., 1996). Surprisingly, we found that levels of prolactin during
the month prior to birth were the same as the levels when fathers were active
in infant care. Does this mean that fathers can somehow anticipate the timing
of infant births?
To find out if fathers can hormonally anticipate the birth of infants, we fol-
lowed a group of first-time fathers and experienced fathers throughout their
mates’ pregnancy, taking hormonal samples and making behavioral observa-
tions several times a week throughout the sixth month of pregnancy (Ziegler
et al., 2004). To our initial surprise, we found that experienced fathers showed
many hormonal changes during the second half of pregnancy. There was a sig-
nificant rise in testosterone, estrogen, dihydrotestosterone, and prolactin,
mainly in the last month or two of pregnancy. There was also a significant rise
in cortisol just at the fourth month. These changes were not seen in first-time
fathers except that their prolactin levels were increased significantly in the last
month of pregnancy.
These results lead to further questions. Why do we see so many “female-
typical” hormones in males, and how do males “know” when their mates are
pregnant? Women typically tell their partners when they are pregnant, but
how can a female tamarin communicate to her mate that she is pregnant?
The female-typical hormones are easiest to explain. Testosterone can be
reduced by enzymes into either estrogen or dihydrotestosterone. Paradoxically
it is the effect of reduction of testosterone to estrogen that leads to masculine-
typical behavior in mammals, but estrogen also works to stimulate production
of prolactin and oxytocin. Thus increased levels of testosterone may be neces-
sary to produce estrogen to stimulate prolactin production in males.
One clue to how males might “know” when their mates are pregnant comes
from the peak in cortisol in the fourth month. We found that all pregnant
females showed an increase in excretion of glucocorticoid hormones in the
fourth month of pregnancy. Within a week of this increased excretion, all
224 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
males were presented with odors of novel ovulating females (Ferris et al.,
2001). We evaluated the behavioral and hormonal responses of males to these
same odors and found that males showed an increase in exploration and in
erections when exposed to the odors of novel ovulating females; and when
we took a blood sample 30 minutes after the first presentation of the odor,
we found a significant increase in testosterone (Ziegler et al., 2005). However,
there was a lot of variation, and some males showed no interest in the odors
and no change in testosterone. Every one of these nonresponding males was
a father with offspring in his family. Thus, being a father seems to increase
mate fidelity (or at least inhibit any interest in a novel female).
We also asked whether fathers were more sensitive to infant cues than non-
fathers and tested this with both auditory and olfactory stimuli. We put
together two cages, with a bridge separating the two cages; in one cage we
placed a live infant, and in the other cage we placed a male, either a father or
a nonfather. Fathers responded by crossing the bridge and attempting to
retrieve infants more often and with a shorter latency than nonfathers. It did
not seem to matter to fathers whether the infants were their own or not. They
responded just as well to their own infant as to an unfamiliar infant. To isolate
the cues involved we repeated the study with an MP3 player producing infant
cries and again found that fathers responded significantly more often than
nonfathers and responded equally to cries of their own and to unfamiliar
infants (Zahed et al., 2008).
Subsequently we tested fathers with the odors of their own versus other
infants and took a blood sample 20 minutes after initial exposure to the odors.
Fathers showed a rapid hormonal response to odors of their own infants but
not to odors of unfamiliar infants. Fathers showed a significant decrease in testos-
terone and a significant increase in estrogen (perhaps converted from testoster-
one). This hormonal response to infant odors was seen only when infants were
still dependent on being carried. When fathers were presented with their infants’
odors at a later age, the fathers were unresponsive (Ziegler et al., 2011). There
appears to be clear evidence that becoming a father makes males more faithful
and less interested in other females and that fathers are much more sensitive to
infant cues than nonfathers, suggesting that fatherhood does change male brains.
Although from a mother’s perspective it may seem attractive to have other
group members do most of the infant care, there are a few downsides. One
of these is with whom the infant develops an attachment. Harry Harlow found
that rhesus macaque (Macaca mulatta) infants were more attached to a furry
surrogate mother even though all the milk was provided from a wire-frame
surrogate. When infants were frightened or in a novel environment, they
clung to the furry surrogate. We wanted to evaluate attachment in tamarins
226 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
in a more natural way, and so we kept track throughout infancy of how much
time each family member carried an infant and how often they shared food with
the infant. Then, when the infants were old enough to move on their own and
were foraging for their own food, we presented a frightening stimulus (a person
dressed to catch an animal for a veterinary exam) and kept track of whom the
infants ran to for comfort (Kostan & Snowdon, 2002). In every single case the
young tamarins ran to the individual that had carried them the most and had
shared food with them the most, and in no case was it the mother!
Do infants benefit from cooperative care in anything more than increased
survival? In species where mothers do almost all of the infant care (macaques,
baboons, and vervet monkeys, Chlorocebus pygerythrus) scientists have
described distinct styles of mothering that can be described on two indepen-
dent dimensions (acceptance versus rejection, and laissez faire versus restric-
tive; Fairbanks, 1996). A daughter growing up experiencing a specific
maternal style is highly likely to use the same style with her own infants.
But what happens when an infant has multiple caregivers that are all active
to varying degrees? We studied the type and amount of care that infants
received in 30 litters where some of the parents were highly experienced and
others were parenting for the first time; the number of group members varied
between two and seven animals. We observed lots of variation in what each
family member did and in how it parented, but when we analyzed the data
from the perspective of what infants received, we found no differences as a
function of either experience or group size. All infants received about the same
amount and quality of care (Washabaugh et al., 2002). Thus, one important
benefit of cooperative parenting may be to reduce the variance in caretaking,
with different caretakers buffering the extreme effects of others. Maternal style
appears not to influence infant outcomes in cooperatively breeding monkeys.
I was talking about my work at Indiana University, and Jeffrey Alberts, a lead-
ing researcher on thermoregulation, asked if it was typical for infants to be car-
ried on the back of adults. After all, most terrestrial primates carry infants on
their chests. I suggested that riding on the back might be best if animals are
running up and down tree trunks all day, but Alberts suggested another
hypothesis. Brown fat, which generates heat, is located between our shoulders,
and infants riding between the shoulders may be using the brown fat of the
one carrying them as a sort of radiator for keeping warm. In support of this
idea are findings that males lose significant amounts of weight during the
period of intensive infant care (up to 10 percent in eight weeks in fathers with-
out additional helpers; Sanchez et al., 1999; Achenbach & Snowdon, 2002).
Thus, infant thermoregulation may be an important function of parental
behavior that requires shared help from others.
But how do parents recruit helpers? There are several issues involved. First,
it would be important to limit reproduction to just one female so that the re-
sources for infant care are not diluted among litters from multiple females.
Second, parents must prevent helpers from joining other groups or leaving
to reproduce elsewhere and instead remain to help the parents. Are there spe-
cific reward mechanisms that parents can use to retain helpers?
One of our first hormonal studies looked at reproductive function in female
tamarins. In mothers we could determine ovulation through a rise in estrogen
levels and the appearance of a spike in luteinizing hormone (Ziegler, Bridson,
et al., 1987). As noted earlier we did not observe many ovulations because
females typically ovulated within two to four weeks of giving birth and often
became pregnant on this first ovulation. However, when we looked at hormo-
nal patterns of daughters, we saw no evidence of ovulation. Estrogen levels
were very low, and there was no sign of luteinizing hormone activity (French
et al., 1984; Ziegler, Savage, et al., 1987). Basically, daughters living at home
with their mothers were not ovulating. This lack of ovulation was not simply
due to maturation as we observed daughters living in family groups who were
two or three years older than some reproducing females, and yet the daughters
were not ovulating.
What can cause this failure to ovulate in females living with a reproductive
female? One hypothesis supported by data from other species is that there is an
increased level of stress in subordinate females that keeps them from reproduc-
ing. However, we rarely noted any signs of direct antagonism between moth-
ers and other females, and when we measured cortisol levels as an index of
stress, we found that these nonovulating females had the lowest cortisol levels
of any group member (Ziegler et al., 1995). Thus, stress cannot be invoked as
a mechanism of reproductive failure.
228 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
may benefit most by recruiting additional helpers to reduce his workload with
the next litter.
So far I have portrayed tamarin family life as harmonious, with every indi-
vidual working for the benefit of the breeding pair. There appears to be a sys-
tem of tolerance of the sexual activities of male helpers and a reward system,
with grooming being used strategically to reward or recruit helpers. But there
is also a dark side to tamarin (and marmoset) life. Infrequently we observed
the onset of severe fights between group members. The targets of the fights
were almost always within sexes, with males fighting with other males and
females fighting with other females. In all cases involving males, it was typi-
cally an older male helper who initiated aggression toward a younger male sib-
ling, one that the older male had helped to carry when it was an infant. Among
females both sister-sister and mother-daughter conflicts were seen. In the case
of mother-daughter fights they occurred when the daughter started engaging
in scent-marking behavior and had measurable levels of estrogen (although
there was no evidence of the cyclic pattern typical of ovulation; Snowdon &
Pickhard, 1999). I need to emphasize that these fights were rare and usually
occurred when captive groups were at the maximum group size seen in the
field (7–8 animals). We quickly learned to remove (disperse) animals when
group size approached this critical value.
pregnancy until after the death of the breeding female, in which case new
groups formed over the next few months with the females from a family join-
ing some adjacent males and the males forming a new breeding pair with adja-
cent females (Lazaro-Perea et al., 2000). Third, an animal may join a new
group that may have some future potential for breeding, but in return for
being a member of the group, the immigrant may have to “pay its dues” by
helping with infant care. This could be especially important if the immigrant
was the last offspring in its natal group. In this case it would have to join a
new group and help with care of unrelated animals simply to acquire infant-
care skills. Even joining a different group may not lead to a chance to repro-
duce. In Colombia we found both males and females dispersed equally from
family groups, but despite being able to monitor several dispersing animals
over several years we never found one that had successfully bred (Savage,
Giraldo, et al., 1996). Throughout an individual’s life the adaptive value of
helping care for other infants may change—initially helping to care for others
is likely to benefit kin and, through the need to learn skills, benefits individual
fitness as well. As an animal gets older, in the absence of open territories or
breeding opportunities, continuing to serve as a helper may be the best option.
If one moves to a new group then becoming active in infant care may be
important to fit in with the group, and, only secondarily, infant care may serve
as a courtship strategy, impressing a potential mate.
take cover and freeze, but after this a few individuals will combine an alarm
call with a chirp that is usually given promoting contact within groups. This
sequence appears to act as an “all-clear” signal, and animals resume activity
after this sequence.
We attempted to simulate intergroup encounters in our colony by opening
doors between adjacent rooms, which created the appearance of a strange
group approaching. We found one type of call given primarily by males and
another type by females in the early stages of these vocal encounters, but when
vocal exchanges reached their peak, both sexes produced combined calls that
had the components of the calls given by each sex early on (McConnell &
Snowdon, 1986). However, the clear sex differences in calling that we
observed in the early study were completely reversed when we replicated the
study 20 years later (Scott et al., 2006). One should be cautious in drawing
conclusions about sex differences in a species that shows few differences
between sexes in physical or behavioral traits.
There has been great interest in whether species other than humans can
communicate about objects or events in their environment rather than simply
communicate about emotional state. We found that two of the chirp types
given by tamarins were used only in the context of feeding (Elowson et al.,
1991). One chirp was given as animals approached food, and the other type
was given after the animal had moved away from the food dish with a piece
of food. However, emotional variables are still involved in this signal. We
evaluated the preferences of each individual for six different types of food
and then presented each individual with each food type and recorded the
number of chirps it gave. There was a strong correlation with each individual’s
preference and the number of chirps it gave. Thus tamarins appear to be com-
municating honestly about their preferences.
Many researchers have noted that primate vocal communication often
appears to be highly stereotyped, with little evidence of modification of the
types of calls primates make, although there are clear developmental processes
in when and how calls are used. Although adults use food calls only with
respect to edible objects, young tamarins appear to overgeneralize and produce
food calls to any small object that they can manipulate. Furthermore, there
calls were not as well formed as those of adults, and young tamarins often gave
many other calls types when they were feeding—calls we never heard from
feeding adults (Roush & Snowdon, 1994). We thought this might simply
reflect a maturation of vocal control, but to our surprise, young tamarins con-
tinued to use these imperfect food calls and other vocalizations long past
puberty. This suggested that the “immature” form of food calling might be
related to the role of being helpers rather than breeding adults. To test this,
COTTON - TOP TAMARINS 233
we recorded food calls from animals living in a subordinate role within a fam-
ily and then from the same individuals for several weeks after they had been
removed from the family and paired with a mate of their own. Within one
to two weeks of pairing the tamarins stopped using the other types of calls
and used only food chirps, and by four to five weeks all displayed adult call
structure and usage (Roush & Snowdon, 1999). It seems likely that the tama-
rins were inhibited from using adult-like calls while living as helpers in their
families. We also found that young tamarins rarely produced adult-like chirps
when we created specific contexts to elicit calls in adults. Many young tamarins
would occasionally produce an appropriate chirp, but if they produced the
appropriate chirp on one occasion, they would be unlikely to produce it consis-
tently thereafter (Castro & Snowdon, 2000). This is not a formal, experimental
test of vocal learning, but the results suggest that young tamarins are not born
with the ability to produce all of their calls and that social interactions with
others may influence when and how they call, suggesting more developmental
flexibility in communication than previously thought (Snowdon, 2009).
We have found flexibility in the contexts in which tamarins use alarm calls.
We presented tamarins with a highly preferred food (tuna) that we had adul-
terated with white pepper, making it less palatable (Snowdon & Boe, 2002).
The tamarins that first tasted the adulterated tuna gave alarm calls, using these
calls in a completely novel context. Other group members paid attention and
rarely sampled the pepper-laced tuna. The animal sampling the tuna also made
facial expressions of disgust and produced food calls at a very low rate, and all
these signals taken together may have made for an effective communication
for others to avoid the food.
We were also interested in recording mobbing calls for a planned study on
response to predators and found that captive tamarins responded with mob-
bing vocalizations to events that were relevant to the ecology of the lab—
cage-cleaning equipment or someone dressed in veterinary garb (Campbell
& Snowdon, 2007), but they showed no mobbing calls and very low levels
of arousal when we placed a live boa constrictor in their cage (Hayes & Snow-
don, 1990; Campbell & Snowdon, 2009). Furthermore, although we tried to
use mobbing calls as a way to condition fear of snakes in captive tamarins, we
had no success (Campbell & Snowdon, 2009). In addition, captive tamarins
did not distinguish between playbacks of vocalizations of natural predators
versus nonpredators (Friant et al., 2008). This lack of response to both live
predators and calls of predators suggests that considerable effort would be
needed to prepare captive-born animals for reintroduction to the wild.
Many of our results concerning how a tamarin produces calls, how it can
adapt calls to novel contexts and to the ecology of captivity, and that it fails
234 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
to respond with fear to natural predators all suggest that a tamarin’s ability to
communicate is the result of learning through experience. This is yet another
example (along with parental care) of the important role of learning in the
development of tamarin behavior.
Tamarins can distinguish individuals through the structure of the calls they
make. We and others have found that the “long call” (named because it is a
series of notes that form the longest call in their repertoire) has specific features
that allow tamarins to distinguish familiar animals from strangers (Snowdon
et al., 1983), but do animals remember family members after they disperse?
To test this we played back long calls recorded from family members from
whom tamarins had been separated for periods from six months to five and a
half years, and we also played the calls from the animal’s current mate and
from a completely unrelated and unfamiliar animal. There was a clearly differ-
ent response, with high degrees of alerting and arousal, to the calls of an unfa-
miliar tamarin and very low response to the calls of a familiar mate. The
response to playbacks of calls of former family members did not differ from
the response to a familiar mate, regardless of the duration of separation, sug-
gesting a long-term memory (up to at least five and a half years) for calls of
familiar animals (Matthews & Snowdon, 2011). This could be an important
mechanism for avoiding inbreeding, especially for tamarins, where both sexes
can disperse from their natal groups (Savage, Giraldo, et al., 1996).
A few years ago I was approached by David Teie, a professional cellist and
composer, who had some ideas about how music influences our emotions.
Because we all grow up with lots of experience with music and have developed
clear preferences, we are not good subjects for testing his ideas, but our tama-
rins had not been exposed to human music before. David hypothesized that
the tempo of a resting heart rate would be calming whereas a much faster
tempo could be arousing. Short, quick notes (staccato) would be arousing
and long notes calming. Harmony indicates affiliation, but dissonance and
noise indicate fear or aggression. But we faced a problem. Josh McDermott
and Marc Hauser (2007) had tested both cotton-top tamarins and common
marmosets, giving them a choice between Mozart and German heavy metal.
The monkeys preferred Mozart, but when they were offered a choice between
Mozart and silence, the monkeys preferred silence. Thus, McDermott and
Hauser concluded that monkeys are indifferent to music. But tamarins have
a much faster heart rate than humans, and their vocal range is three octaves
higher than the human voice. Perhaps the test was unfair to tamarins.
David Teie composed several musical pieces in the frequency range and
tempo of tamarins, with two pieces having musical structures that should be
calming and two having arousing and fearful structures. We played these
COTTON - TOP TAMARINS 235
pieces to the tamarins along with two calming and two arousing human musi-
cal pieces. The tamarins were generally indifferent to the human music, but
they reduced activity and foraged more after hearing tamarin-calming music,
and they showed more activity, more anxious behavior, and more huddling
with one another after hearing the tamarin-arousing music (Snowdon & Teie,
2010). Thus tamarins do respond to music if it is composed in their frequency
range and with appropriate tempos. This study suggests the emotional compo-
nents of music may have a long evolutionary history and emphasizes the emo-
tional impact that music has for us.
Cotton-top tamarins also make use of odors in communication. There is a
clear sexual dimorphism, with females scent marking much more often than
males (French & Cleveland, 1984) and reproductively inhabited females
marking much less often than reproductive females (French & Cleveland,
1984). The scent glands become much larger and secrete more fluid when a
female becomes a breeding adult (French et al., 1984). The two main glands
are in the anogenital region and the suprapubic area, with anogenital marking
appearing to provide information about reproductive status (Ziegler et al.,
1993) and suprapubic marking being used in territorial conflicts (French &
Snowdon, 1981; McConnell & Snowdon, 1986).
other parent was trained to climb on a branch below the tube and reach up to
pull the food down. We then tested juveniles (seven to nine months old), one
with each parent, and found that the parents began giving food-sharing calls
again and would share food with the juveniles. However, as soon as a juvenile
successfully learned to obtain the food by itself, the parent stopped calling and
sharing food (Humle & Snowdon, 2008). When we tested naïve adults on the
same task in the company of a mate who knew how to solve the task, there was
no evidence of calling or food sharing (Dillis et al., 2010). These results taken
together suggest a rudimentary form of teaching, with parents providing assis-
tance until a young tamarin masters a task and then withholding support
thereafter. This is not an artifact of captivity because Rapaport and Ruiz
Miranda (2002) have reported similar behavior in wild lion tamarins (Leonti-
pithecus rosalia). When we studied mother-infant interactions in wild chim-
panzees foraging for biting ants in Africa, we saw absolutely no evidence of
any help by mothers. Young chimpanzees could observe their mothers, but
mothers never assisted them in making tools or correcting their foraging
behavior (Humle et al., 2009). The contrast between the teaching in tamarins
and the lack of any help by chimpanzee mothers, even with biting ants, is
quite striking.
So far I have shown that cooperatively breeding tamarins appear to outper-
form other species in terms of social learning and teaching, and one hypothesis
for this ability is that cooperative breeders must coordinate their behavior
closely and communicate frequently with one another. But do they actually
cooperate with one another in contexts other than infant care? Katherine
Cronin was an undergraduate student who became interested in this question,
and she developed a clever apparatus—a transparent box with two sliding
trays, with two holes in each tray. When the trays were pulled out from each
side of the box at the same time, food placed in the holes would drop to the
base of the apparatus where the tamarins could each retrieve a piece of food.
Animals were trained individually to learn that if they pulled the trays they
could obtain food. We then attached elastic bands to the trays so they would
have to be pulled simultaneously for anyone to obtain food and then tested a
pair of animals together. The tamarins quickly learned to coordinate their
behavior, and they had a high rate of success (>97%). Frequently one animal
would pull on its tray and wait until the other animal pulled. We then sepa-
rated the animals and found that the animal left alone with the apparatus
showed an interest in it but rarely attempted to pull on a tray, suggesting that
the animal realized the need for a partner to be successful (Cronin et al.,
2005). When Cronin returned for her Ph.D. she devised several variations
and found that if only one animal was rewarded in a session, both animals
238 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
continued to pull at a high rate and that performance remained strong even
after several days elapsed between when one animal received rewards and the
other did (Cronin & Snowdon, 2008).
At the same time donation behavior was being studied in chimpanzees. An
animal could pull one of two trays—one with one piece of food for itself and
the other with two pieces of food, one for itself and one for a companion in
an adjacent cage. Even though there was no cost to pulling the tray with two
pieces of food in terms of what the actor would get, there was no evidence that
chimpanzees would voluntarily share food with another (Silk et al., 2005;
Vonk et al., 2008). We attempted the same experiment with tamarins, hoping
to find that tamarins would share, but we also failed to find any donation of
food either with no cost to the donor or when only the recipient could get
food (Cronin et al., 2009). Yet at the same time an independent group found
that common marmosets would donate food, even with no reward for the
donor and only the recipient benefitting (Burkart et al., 2007). We eventually
developed a test where one animal provided food continuously for itself and its
mate for five minutes and on another day the tray was blocked and no one
received a reward. We then reversed roles so that the prior recipient could pro-
vide food only for the former donor. Tamarins needed some time to adjust,
but within a couple of minutes they began pulling the tray to provide food
to their mate regardless of whether the mate had just rewarded them or not
(Cronin et al., 2010). So both tamarins and marmosets show true donation
behavior to others. Thus, cooperative breeding monkeys are truly cooperative.
CONCLUSION
Conservation
At the beginning of the chapter, I asserted that studying tamarins, even in
captivity, would have benefits for conservation. Let me now back up that
assertion. The noninvasive hormone-collection techniques we developed in
captivity allowed us to monitor hormones in wild tamarins, and we found a
strong seasonal breeding pattern with births linked to the onset of the rainy
season (Savage et al., 1997). However, our captive tamarins (and those that
had been confiscated and housed in outdoor cages in Colombia) were able to
breed year round. This suggests that availability of high-quality food, which
is linked to the rainy season, may be critical for reproduction in the wild. Sup-
porting this, we found that one year when the rains did not start on time, all
females lost their infants, but they became pregnant again quickly and gave
birth six months out of phase with the normal seasons. By the following year
they were back on a seasonal breeding pattern.
COTTON - TOP TAMARINS 239
We found that typically only one female bred at a time in the wild, with the
only exceptions occurring when a novel male joined a group prior to the date
of conception, just as predicted from our captive work (Savage, Giraldo, et al.,
1996). And we found close parallels between parental care in first-time and
experienced mothers and of group size and infant survival in both captivity
and the field. A recent survey to census the number of tamarins remaining in
Colombia used playbacks of long calls of other tamarins to elicit vocal
responses in wild tamarins, allowing them to be counted accurately (Savage
et al., 2010). This method was directly based on playback studies we did with
captive tamarins (Snowdon et al., 1983).
However, the most important influence on conservation has been to get
others excited about tamarins in Colombia and elsewhere. While she was
doing her fieldwork, Anne Savage involved the local community at Coloso
in several ways. First, they did not realize that cotton-top tamarins were
unique to their part of Colombia, and as Anne recruited journalists and TV
producers to visit and write about the tamarins for the national media, the
townspeople developed great pride in “their” monkeys.
Anne also involved school children. There were no Spanish biology text-
books that dealt with local wildlife, so she began teaching once a week in
11th-grade biology. Subsequently, she raised some money to buy radio trans-
mitters and receivers and trained the 11th-graders to track the animals that
were living in the backyards of the village after school each day. Wearing spe-
cial t-shirts and carrying radio-tracking equipment, the children provided an
enthusiastic and highly visible message about conservation every afternoon.
Anne has also worked to develop new economic resources to reduce the
pressures on cutting wood. She worked with a potter to develop a novel oven
that can cook food using corn stalks and other vegetation while preserving
trees. And several women are involved in making purses and carry bags from
leftover plastic bags. Anne has also worked closely with the Nature Conserv-
ancy, Disney’s Animal Kingdom, and the Colombian government to create a
reserve for tamarins. You can learn more about her work in Colombia at
www.proyectotiti.com.
We have also donated more than 300 of our tamarins to zoos and to under-
graduate colleges in North America so that the general public can learn more
about cotton-top tamarins and why they are interesting and important.
Many people ask about reintroduction as a conservation strategy. I think
that reintroduction has too many problems to be a viable strategy. First, I have
mentioned above that our captive-born tamarins have not shown any signs of
fear of natural predators and that we were unable to condition a fear of preda-
tors. Second, a long-term study of golden lion tamarins (Leontopithecus rosalia)
240 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
reintroduced to Brazil found motor deficits even in animals that were in the
second generation of wild-born offspring to reintroduced parents (Stoinski
et al., 2003). Third, there are complex foraging skills that are needed: catch
insects, process fruit, and discriminate between toxic and nontoxic foods that
captive-born tamarins would have to learn before they could be released.
Finally, there must be enough suitable habitat to support additional tamarins
without affecting the local wild population. Because habitat has been steadily
decreasing over the last several decades, adding reintroduced tamarins to com-
pete with the limited resources available to the remaining wild tamarins simply
makes no sense. We will be in a better position to save cotton-top tamarins by
creating and funding suitable refuges for wild tamarins and by providing alter-
native economic resources so that humans can survive without having to make
further incursions on the remaining forest.
have drawn on these differences to argue that humans have advanced on the
individual cognitive and problem-solving abilities of the apes while bringing
as well the social learning, cooperation, and teaching skills of cooperatively
breeding animals (Burkart et al., 2009; Hrdy, 2009). Thus studies of co-
operatively breeding primates may be leading us to a broader, more complete
understanding of our own cognitive evolution.
I hope that you can now see why cotton-top tamarins have fascinated me
for so many years and also see the wide range of studies that can be pursued
within a single species.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am grateful to the National Institute of Mental Health for long-term sup-
port of our captive research and the National Science Foundation for it sup-
port of field work in Colombia. I am also grateful to Toni Ziegler for her
long-term collaboration on captive research and Anne Savage for initiating
and continuing field research on cotton-top tamarins. I am also grateful to
the many people who have worked with me on this research—postdoctoral
fellows, graduate students, undergraduate students, and research staff. With-
out their dedication to the tamarins and the research, we would not have
accomplished as much as we have.
Epple, G. (1978). Reproductive and social behaviors of marmosets with special refer-
ence to captive breeding. Primates in Medicine, 10, 50–62.
Fairbanks, L. A. (1996). Individual differences in maternal style: Causes and conse-
quences for mothers and offspring. In J. S. Rosenblatt & C. T. Snowdon
(eds.), Parental Care: Evolution, Mechanism and Adaptive Significance (pp.
579–611). San Diego, CA: Academic Press.
Ferris, C. F., C. T. Snowdon, J. A. King, T. Q. Duong, T. E. Ziegler, K. Ugurbil, R.
Ludwig, N. J. Schultz-Darken, Z. Wu, D. P. Olson, J. M. Sullivan, Jr., P. L.
Tannebaum, & J. T. Vaughn. (2001). Functional imaging of brain activity
in conscious monkeys responding to sexually arousing cues. NeuroReport, 12,
2231–2236.
French, J. A., D. H. Abbott, & C. T. Snowdon. (1984). The effect of social environ-
ment on estrogen secretion, scent marking and sociosexual behavior in tama-
rins (Saguinus oedipus). American Journal of Primatology, 6, 155–167.
French, J. A. & J. Cleveland. (1984). Scent marking in the tamarin (Saguinus oedi-
pus): Sex differences and ontogeny. Animal Behaviour, 32, 615–618.
French, J. A. & C. T. Snowdon. (1981). Sexual dimorphism in responses to unfamil-
iar intruders in the tamarin (Saguinus oedipus). Animal Behaviour, 29,
822–829.
Friant, S. C., M. A. Campbell, & C. T. Snowdon. (2008). Captive-born cotton-top
tamarins (Saguinus oedipus) respond similarly to vocalizations of predators
and non-predators. American Journal of Primatology, 70, 707–710.
Gaudio, J. L. & C. T. Snowdon. (2008). Spatial cues more salient than color cues in
cotton-top tamarin (Saguinus oedipus) reversal learning. Journal of Comparative
Psychology, 122, 441–444.
Ginther, A. J., A. A. Carlson, T. E. Ziegler, & C. T. Snowdon. (2002). Neonatal and
pubertal development in males of a cooperatively breeding primate, the cotton-
top tamarin (Saguinus oedipus oedipus). Biology of Reproduction, 66, 282–290.
Ginther, A. G. & C. T. Snowdon. (2009). Expectant parents groom adult sons
according to previous alloparenting in a biparental cooperatively breeding pri-
mate. Animal Behaviour, 78, 287–297.
Ginther, A. J., T. E. Ziegler, & C. T. Snowdon. (2001). Reproductive biology of cap-
tive male cotton-top tamarin monkeys as a function of social environment.
Animal Behaviour, 61, 65–78.
Hayes, S. L. & C. T. Snowdon. (1990). Predator recognition in cotton-top tamarins
(Saguinus oedipus). American Journal of Primatology, 20, 283–291.
Hrdy, S. B. (1999). Mother Nature. New York: Ballantine Books.
Hrdy, S. B. (2009). Mothers and Others. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press.
Humle, T. & C. T. Snowdon. (2008). Socially biased learning in the acquisition of a
complex foraging task in juvenile cottontop tamarins (Saguinus oedipus). Ani-
mal Behaviour, 75, 267–277.
Humle, T., C. T. Snowdon, & T. Matsuzawa. (2009). Social influences on the
acquisition of ant dipping among the wild chimpanzees (Pan troglodytes verus)
of Bossou, Guinea, West Africa. Animal Cognition, 12, S37–S48.
244 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Johnson, L. D., A. J. Petto, & P. K. Sehgal. (1991). Factors in the rejection and sur-
vival of captive cotton-top tamarins (Saguinus oedipus). American Journal of
Primatology, 25, 91–102.
Joyce, S. M. & C. T. Snowdon. (2007). Developmental changes in food transfers in
cotton-top tamarins (Saguinus oedipus). American Journal of Primatology, 69,
955–965.
Keverne, E. B., N. D. Martens, & B. Tuite. (1989). Beta-endorphin concentrations
in cerebrospinal fluid of monkeys as influenced by grooming relationships. Psy-
choneuroendocrinology, 14, 155–161.
Kinsley, C. H. & K. G. Lambert. (2006). The maternal brain. Scientific American,
January, 72–79.
Kosfeld, M., M. Heinrichs, P. J. Zak, U. Fischbacher, & E. Fehr. (2005). Oxytocin
increases trust in humans. Nature, 435, 673–676.
Kostan, K. M. & C. T. Snowdon. (2002). Attachment and social preferences in
cooperatively-breeding cotton-top tamarins. American Journal of Primatology,
57, 131–139.
Lazaro-Perea, C. (2001). Intergroup interactions in wild common marmosets (Calli-
thrix jacchus): Territorial defence and assessment of neighbours. Animal Behav-
iour, 62, 11–21.
Lazaro-Perea, C., M. F. Arruda, & C. T. Snowdon. (2004). Grooming as reward?
Social functions of grooming in cooperatively breeding marmosets. Animal
Behaviour, 67, 627–636.
Lazaro-Perea, C., C. S. S. Castro, R. Harrison, A. Araujo, M. F. Arruda, & C. T.
Snowdon. (2000). Behavioral and demographic changes following the loss of
the breeding female in cooperatively breeding marmosets. Behavioral Ecology
and Sociobiology, 48, 137–146.
Matthews, S. A. & C. T. Snowdon. (2011). Long-term memory for calls of relatives
in cotton-top tamarins (Saguinus oedipus). Journal of Comparative Psychology,
125, 366–369.
McConnell, P. B. & C. T. Snowdon. (1986). Vocal interactions between unfamiliar
groups of captive cotton top tamarins. Behaviour, 97, 273–296.
McDermott, J. & M. D. Hauser. (2007). Nonhuman primates prefer slow tempos
but dislike music overall. Cognition, 104, 654–668.
Moscovice, L. R. & C. T. Snowdon. (2006). The role of social context and individual
experience in novel task acquisition in cotton-top tamarins (Saguinus oedipus).
Animal Behaviour, 71, 933–943.
Mota, M. T. S., C. R. Franci, & M. B. C. Sousa. (2006). Hormonal changes related
to paternal and alloparental care in common marmosets (Callithrix jacchus).
Hormones and Behavior, 49, 293–302.
Rapaport, L. G. & C. R. R. Miranda. (2002). Tutoring in wild golden lion tamarins.
International Journal of Primatology, 23, 1063–1070.
Roberts, R. L., K. T. Jenkins, T. Lawler Jr., F. H. Wegner, & J. D. Newman. (2001).
Bromocryptine administration lowers serum prolactin and disrupts parental
COTTON - TOP TAMARINS 245
OVERVIEW
To claim and understand the uniqueness of any physical, chemical, or biologi-
cal system, it is necessary to use the same set of approaches, tools, and analyses
to probe other systems. Accordingly, to assess whether and how people are sin-
gularly different from other animals in our perceptual abilities, cognitive skills,
and behavioral repertoires, a parallel set of studies is required to examine how
human and nonhuman animals would respond. Brood parasites have pro-
vided a long-standing and popular model system for the experimental analysis
of self-recognition, which is critical for all social aspects of behavior. Specifi-
cally, when faced with a nest containing own and foreign eggs, the paramount
question is how individuals discriminate themselves from others by utilizing
each of their recognition system’s components: perception, cognition, and
response. Specifically, brood-parasitic birds lay their eggs in others’ nests,
and the costs of parental care and reduced reproductive success are borne by
the hosts. Hosts, in turn, may reject costly parasitism by ejecting foreign prog-
eny or deserting parasitized nests. The cues used by hosts to perceive, recog-
nize, discriminate, and respond to foreign eggs have been well studied in a
variety of avian host-parasite systems. How, in turn, the hosts’ recognition sys-
tems, including their sensory and cognitive processes, receive, sort through,
and determine the behavioral responses to these self-versus-foreign cues allows
250 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
BACKGROUND
Brood-parasitic birds deposit their eggs in the nests of other individuals or
species, sparing the cost of providing care for their own young (Croston &
Hauber, 2010). This relatively simple act of sneaking an egg into a foreign
nest may result in a coevolutionary arms race of sophisticated host defences
to circumvent or reject parasitism and the escalating steps of the parasites’
breaching these host defences (Rothstein & Robinson, 1998; Lyon & Eadie,
2004). Brood parasitism may be obligate, with all eggs laid in others’ nests,
or facultative, with some own eggs incubated by the parent(s) and others laid
in foreign nests (Davies, 2000). Interspecific brood parasitism involves the
laying of eggs in other species’ nests, whereas in intraspecific parasitism eggs
are laid in nests of conspecifics (Davies, 2000). The benefits and the costs of
brood parasitism to elicit parental care for genetically unrelated young re-
present an important evolutionary selection pressure, so that, respectively, typ-
ical avian brood parasites show morphological and behavioral adaptations to
exploit hosts, and these hosts often show antiparasite adaptations to reduce
the costs of parasitism (Dawkins & Krebs, 1979; Krüger, 2007; Rothstein &
Robinson, 1998).
Irrespective of the type of parasitism, theory predicts that hosts should
reduce or eliminate the many costs of parasitism to increase the benefits of
parental care for their own, genetically related progeny (Servedio & Hauber,
2006). To prevent rejection, some parasites trick hosts by producing perceptu-
ally mimetic eggs (Avilés, 2008), laid into a clutch of several of the hosts’ own
eggs during the laying stage (Moskát & Hauber, 2007), with their thicker egg-
shells making it more difficult or even impossible to puncture them and eject
the chick (Antonov et al., 2009). The sensory, perceptual, and behavioral
responses triggered by parasitic eggs therefore set the stage for testing the limits
AVIAN BROOD PARASITISM : HOW TO SPOT A FOREIGN EGG IN THE NEST ? 251
The most extensively studied avian brood parasite is the common cuckoo
(Cuculus canorus) (hereafter: cuckoo), whose females form host-specialized
races (“gentes”), showing egg mimicry of a particular host species as perceived
by the avian hosts themselves (Avilés, 2008); in turn, most hosts of the cuckoo
show behavioral strategies to discriminate and reject imperfect mimic foreign
eggs (e.g., Moksnes, Røskaft, Braa, et al., 1991; Davies & Brooke, 1988;
Røskaft et al., 2002; Hauber et al., 2006). Cuckoo eggs typically resemble host
eggs in color and pattern (Davies & Brooke, 1988, 1989; Moksnes & Røskaft,
1995) but not in egg shape (Bán et al., 2011), to generate a sensory image that
closely mimics the hosts’ own eggs’ appearance (Cassey, Honza, et al., 2008).
The cognitive basis of behavioral responses to brood parasitism has been
considered to include both self-referenced and socially learned signals of the
parasitic eggs’, chicks’, and adults’ phenotypes (Lotem et al., 1995, Moskát
& Hauber, 2007). For example, the discrimination of own versus foreign eggs
appears to depend on how the avian sensory system receives visual information
(Avilés, 2008; Cassey, Honza, et al., 2008; Spottiswoode & Stevens, 2010;
Stoddard & Stevens, 2010, 2011) and interprets the differences between the
physical patterns of coloration and maculation (spotting pattern) of con- or
heterospecific eggshells (Davies & Brooke, 1989; Moksnes, Røskaft , & Braa,
1991; Cherry et al., 2007; Honza, Polaciková, et al., 2007; Moskát, Székely,
et al., 2008).
The behavioral process of egg discrimination can be divided into several
main parts, as defined by recognition-systems analyses (Sherman et al.,
1997): (1) the perception of the eggshell, (2) the cognitive algorithms involved
in recognizing and generating a response to perceived cues, and (3) the behav-
ioral responses (if any) to the egg, including the cases when hosts recognize the
foreign eggs but are unable to pierce or grasp them, or decide not to reject
them (Davies et al., 1996; Hauber & Sherman, 2001; Moskát & Hauber,
2007; Antonov et al., 2009; Spottiswoode, 2010). Most studies to date have
used data on the subjects’ displays of behavioral patterns and outcomes of
egg rejection to infer perceptual abilities of egg discrimination (Avilés, 2008;
Cassey, Honza, et al., 2008; Spottiswoode & Stevens, 2010; Stoddard &
Stevens, 2010, 2011), while others used video observations on duration of
inspection, latency to reject, and patterns of egg-pecking to reveal that dis-
crimination can take place before or in the absence of egg rejection (Soler
et al., 2002; Honza, Pozgayova, et al., 2007; Antonov et al., 2009). Identify-
ing the perceptual and cognitive basis of egg-discrimination cues and thresh-
olds requires in-depth data collection using a combination of artificial
parasitism and dynamic experimental manipulation of host egg appearance
in space and time (Hauber et al., 2006).
AVIAN BROOD PARASITISM : HOW TO SPOT A FOREIGN EGG IN THE NEST ? 253
in habitats where trees are available for vantage points for cuckoos (Røskaft
et al., 2002; Moskát, Hansson, et al., 2008), a potential consequence of heavy
cuckoo parasitism, timed closely during the hosts’ laying cycle (Moskát et al.,
2006), is the high frequency of multiple parasitism. However, when faced
with multiple parasite eggs, great reed warbler hosts show fewer rejection
responses towards any of the cuckoo eggs than in nests with a single parasite
egg, including in natural clutches with multiple parasitism (Moskát et al.,
2009) and in experimental clutches with multiple variably-mimetic dyed host
eggs (Moskát, Székely, et al., 2008). Similarly, rates of rejections of natural
cuckoo eggs decrease with more host eggs in the nest or when own eggs are
experimentally exchanged with foreign eggs during the hosts’ laying period
(Moskát & Hauber, 2007). Critically, in all these cases, the relative numbers
of own versus foreign eggs were variable, thus implying a potential role for
the in situ simultaneous, online comparison of own and foreign eggs in the
nests (Hauber & Sherman, 2001).
The results of these experimental studies lend strong support for the con-
ceptual benefits of a recognition-systems-based approach for the scientific
understanding of what cognitive processes underlie hosts’ rejection behaviors.
In these studies, by identifying and distinguishing the roles that sensory, cog-
nitive, and behavioral processes play in recognizing foreign eggs, it becomes
possible and feasible to separate potential confounds of abilities to perceive
differences and evolved behavioral repertoires, which in turn generate the
observable and quantifiable recorded outcomes of rejection behaviors.
their nests. Indeed, evolutionary biologists have accepted just such a scenario
by proposing that some host species have simply not had the time to evolve
the cognitive architecture and decision rules associated with rejection of intact
but dissimilarly colored eggs (Rothstein & Robinson, 1998). For example,
eastern phoebes (Sayornis phoebe) historically have nested in caves and along
streams, two microhabitats typically avoided by brood-parasitic brown-
headed cowbirds (Hauber, 2001). In turn, both phoebes and cowbirds have
extensively benefitted from cattle grazing and suburban development in
eastern North America during the past 400 years, with, for instance, up to
30 percent of phoebe nests parasitized by cowbirds in the early spring near
Ithaca, New York (Hauber et al., 2004). It is therefore no surprise that at such
a short evolutionary timescale (of less than 400 generations), even though
phoebes readily remove broken eggshells from their nests of clear white eggs,
they have not evolved the complex decision rules to grab and toss out intact
partially or fully speckled foreign (cowbird) eggshells from their clutches
(Hauber, 2003).
Alternatively, other folks in the audience of public talks on brood parasites
wonder whether acceptor hosts are intellectually and physically able to recog-
nize and remove foreign objects in their nests but decide not to do so. Exper-
imental evidence again provides some support for such a counterintuitive
scenario. For example, prothonotary warblers (Protonotaria cinerea) are one
of the few frequently parasitized cavity-nesting host species of cowbirds, and
these hosts pay a sizeable fitness cost, through lower reproductive output per
nesting attempt, following the acceptance of parasitic eggs and young in their
nests (Hoover, 2003). Yet these warblers do not reject cowbird eggs, do not
abandon parasitized clutches, and return, year after year, to repeatedly parasit-
ized nest sites (Hoover et al., 2006). Critically, however, rejection behavior of
cowbirds in this host-parasite system is not favored by natural selection
because parasitized nests from which cowbird eggs are experimentally removed
are revisited by female cowbirds to peck on host eggs and toss out host young;
the outcome of such mafia-like cowbird behavior is that acceptance of parasit-
ism generates a greater reproductive output than rejection followed by para-
sitic retaliation (Hoover & Robinson, 2007).
In light of these questions and possibilities to explain why hosts may or may
not remove foreign eggs from their nests, the recognition-systems approach
advocated here allows us to dissect any such apparent sensory, cognitive, and
behavioral dissonances. Accordingly, from the perspective of the sensation of
the cues of hosts versus parasites, it is no surprise that visual models of the
avian sensory system repeatedly confirm that differences in the background
coloration and the maculation of host versus parasite eggs can be generally
256 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
whenever the full clutch was manipulated, all host eggs were dyed in the same
manner, so that any potential use of the comparison of more or less mimetic
foreign eggs to a perceptual recognition template of own eggs in eliciting
acceptance versus rejection responses could not be tested. To identify the plas-
ticity of the discrimination threshold in generating acceptance versus rejection
decision requires the use of differently mimetic eggs in the same clutch
(Hauber et al., 2006). In that experiment, we used a moderately mimetic egg:
great reed warbler host egg dyed with speckles versus a fully nonmimetic egg:
a host egg dyed fully brown. The moderately mimetic egg was accepted in most
cases, and the nonmimetic egg was rejected in most cases. However, after the
initial rejection of the nonmimetic egg, dyeing a second host egg with the mod-
erately mimetic speckles suddenly resulted in most eggs being rejected; this
experiment showed that acceptance versus rejection decisions are not based
on stationary acceptance thresholds but instead use flexible decision rules to
recognize and reject foreign egg colors and patterns (Hauber et al., 2006).
Similarly, in a separate set of experiments Moskát, Tamás Székely, and col-
leagues (2008) also manipulated all host eggs by painting variable numbers of
spots on hosts’ own eggs during the laying stage and found for the first time
clear experimental evidence for a reduced rejection rate of foreign eggs with
increasing intraclutch variability. But again, that experiment did not test the
relative acceptance threshold of foreign eggs that themselves vary in their rela-
tive appearance compared to the original host eggs. Experiments are now
needed to assess whether hosts possess a consistent absolute or relative accep-
tance threshold to detect foreign egg colors, and whether those foreign eggs
that elicit discrimination responses, and are behaviorally rejected, may be
modified by the overall appearance of the hosts’ full clutch, including variation
in the proportion of hosts’ own eggs present in the nest.
A critical interpretation of the increasing amounts of experimental data on
egg-rejection behaviors of hosts of brood-parasitic birds is that hosts recognize
more eggs than they actually reject. This conclusion also has implications for
the cognitive decision rules involved in mediating behavioral responses
through sensation and perception. Specifically, the new results reveal that the
lack of behavioral responses to foreign eggs cannot be considered as necessarily
being due to limited cognitive complexity of host birds (Moskát & Hauber,
2007; Antonov et al., 2009). In other words, hosts of brood parasites are likely
much smarter than they appear in response to natural and experimental para-
sitism. This is, of course, no surprise to any ornithologists or other natural his-
torian: for example, eastern phoebe hosts of brown-headed cowbirds are
sophisticated flycatchers that capture prey in midair using acrobatic flight
and precise vision. In addition, phoebes also engage in several thousands of
258 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
miles of migration for the winter but return to the exact same nest site where
they had bred in the previous year, down to the nearest meter (Hauber,
2002). As such, phoebes’ lack of behavioral responses to speckled cowbird eggs
is unlikely to be due to limited sensory or cognitive traits and repertoires.
EGG-MANIPULATION EXPERIMENTS
The broader implication of the range of experimental methods used in the
study of avian brood-parasitism and egg-rejection behaviors, including the critical
uses of parallel and concurrent egg manipulations of rejecter hosts, is that these
experimental manipulations can provide the basis of several parallel experiments
using photographic and image-presentation approaches for an “odd-one-out”
paradigm to study human behavioral responses and cognitive decision rules in
the recognition-systems approach. In one experiment, a set of reference images
would be provided to the human study subjects to familiarize them with the range
of acceptable eggs (images with clutches of host eggs only), thereby providing a
range and variation of acceptable phenotypic traits present in the population.
Following the familiarization step, a novel set of images would then be pro-
vided (ideally, standardized for egg size and clutch size: number of eggs), and
the subjects would be asked (people) or trained (nonhuman animals) to detect
and point to the foreign egg. By using a suite of different clutch images, with
natural or artificially manipulated foreign egg(s) placed in the nest, including
either single foreign eggs or multiple (including all) foreign eggs in the clutch,
the concurrent experimental approach advocated here, modified from Moskát
and colleagues (2010) could be applied into this paradigm. The study, for
example, could focus on cognitive mechanisms based on discordancy (i.e.,
the detection of the odd egg relative to the majority egg type present in the
nest) versus conspecific familiarity (i.e., the detection of eggs with an unfamil-
iar phenotypic trait, which would fall outside the range presented during the
familiarization stage of the experiment using acceptable, conspecific eggs
only). Because these cognitive mechanisms make different predictions about
the eggs identified as foreign during the experiment, it would be possible to
identify which algorithm is used by subjects to recognize foreign eggs.
Critically, a second conclusion associated with the schematics of such an
experimental design is that studies with natural or artificial cuckoo eggs that
are based on the presence or introduction of a single parasitic egg in the nest
cannot discriminate between decision rules based on discordancy versus con-
specific familiarity—in these situations, the predictions are identical. Instead,
to contrast the predictions of these alternatives, it is required that additional
manipulations of several eggs in each clutch take place.
AVIAN BROOD PARASITISM : HOW TO SPOT A FOREIGN EGG IN THE NEST ? 259
CONCLUSIONS
The main conclusion of this chapter is that future work should incorporate
both the conceptual and the practical details developed in the studies reviewed
and advocated here in order to better understand the evolutionary parallels
and innovations required to detect parasitic eggs. In addition, it is essential
to examine concurrently whether multiple cognitive processes are involved in
the behavioral discrimination of own and foreign eggs, for instance discord-
ancy and self-referenced familiarity. Yet, in the absence of the availability of
either of these mechanisms, an internal threshold-based discrimination deci-
sion may also be available to hosts detecting foreign eggs; the combination of
these non-mutually-exclusive alternative cognitive processes can clearly pro-
duce efficient and beneficial rejection decisions. That cognitive mechanisms
do not act mutually exclusively but instead supplement and combine with
each other is consistent with the scenario that increasingly fail-safe mecha-
nisms of accurate parasite-egg detection function in these hosts (Hauber &
Sherman, 2001; Moskát et al., 2010). Future work, therefore, should also
examine the novel prediction that the evolutionary response to arms races with
increasingly mimetic hosts is the concurrent reliance on multiple cognitive
decision rules to converge on the detection of and the behavioral decision to
reject the foreign egg(s) from the nest.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We are grateful to editor Ken Yasukawa for his kind invitation to contrib-
ute and careful comments on a draft of this book chapter; to Zachary Aidala,
260 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Michael Anderson, Phill Cassey, Rebecca Croston, Brian Gill, Tomas Grim,
Jeffrey Hoover, Csaba Moskát, Peter Samas, and many others for our years
of collaboration on parasitic cowbirds and cuckoos; and to the Human Fron-
tier Science Program, the Marsden Fund, the National Geographic Society,
and PSC-CUNY for research funding.
SAS Institute Inc. (2000). SAS Online Doc, Version 8. Cary, NC: SAS Institute.
Schuetz, J. G. (2005). Reduced growth but not survival of chicks with altered gape
patterns: Implications for the evolution of nestling similarity in a parasitic
finch. Animal Behaviour, 70, 839–848.
Segelbacher, G., T. Sacher, A. Schwarzenberger, S. Woitsch, F. Bairlein, & T. Cop-
pack. (2008). Eight microsatellite loci characterised in the European blackbird,
Turdus merula. Journal of Ornithology, 149, 131–133.
Servedio, M. R. & M. E. Hauber. (2006). To eject or to abandon? Life history traits
of hosts and parasites interact to influence the fitness payoffs of alternative anti-
parasite strategies. Journal of Evolutionary Biology, 19, 1585–1594.
Servedio, M. R. & R. Lande. (2003). Coevolution of an avian host and its parasitic
cuckoo. Evolution, 57, 1164–1175.
Sherman, P. W., H. K. Reeve, & D. W. Pfenning. (1997). Recognition systems. In
J. R. Krebs & N. B. Davies (eds.), Behavioural Ecology (pp. 69–96). Oxford,
UK: Blackwell Scientific.
Soler, J. J., J. G. Martinez, M. Soler, & A. P. Møller. (1999) Genetic and geo-
graphic variation in rejection behavior of cuckoo eggs by European magpie
populations: An experimental test of rejecter-gene flow. Evolution, 53,
947–956.
Soler, M, M. Martín-Vivaldi, & T. Pérez-Contreras. (2002). Identification of the sex
responsible for recognition and the method of ejection of parasitic eggs in some
potential common cuckoo hosts. Ethology, 108, 1093–1101.
Spottiswoode, C. N. (2010). The evolution of host-specific variation in cuckoo egg-
shell strength. Journal of Evolutionary Biology, 23, 1792–1799.
Spottiswoode, C. N. & M. Stevens. (2010). Visual modeling shows that avian host
parents use multiple visual cues in rejecting parasitic eggs. Proceedings of the
National Academy of Sciences, USA, 107, 8672–8676.
Stoddard, M. C. & M. Stevens. (2010). Pattern mimicry of host eggs by the common
cuckoo, as seen through a bird’s eye. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London,
B, 277, 1387–1393.
Stoddard, M. C. & M. Stevens. (2011). Avian vision and the evolution of egg color
mimicry in the common cuckoo. Evolution, 65, 204–213.
Stokke, B. G., A. Moksnes, & E. Røskaft. (2002). Obligate brood parasites as selec-
tive agents for evolution of egg appearance in passerine birds. Evolution, 56,
199–205.
Stokke, B. G., G. Rudolfsen, A. Moksnes, & E. Røskaft. (2004). Rejection of conspe-
cific eggs in chaffinches: The effect of age and clutch characteristics. Ethology,
110, 459–470.
Stokke, B. G., F. Takasu, A. Moksnes, & E. Røskaft. (2007). The importance of
clutch characteristics for antiparasite adaptations in hosts of avain brood para-
sites. Evolution, 61, 2212–2228.
Svennungsen, T. O. & Ø. H. Holen. (2010). Avian brood parasitism: Information
use and variation in egg-rejection behaviour. Evolution, 64, 1459–1469.
268 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
INTRODUCTION
There are very few animals that do not move through space at some point in
their life, and many are in motion more or less constantly during their waking
hours. They leave places that they will later return to. They depart from places
that might be either novel or familiar in search of somewhere else, a somewhere
they may know well or may never have been before. Novelist Salman Rushdie
(1995) wrote “In my family . . . we arrive hoping for somewhere better,” and that
probably describes the lives of many animals. Animals find food only to move on
as they deplete the patch in which they are foraging and face better prospects
elsewhere. Many animals leave the place they were born and set out in search
of suitable habitat where they can establish a territory, find a mate, and repro-
duce. Animals defend home ranges and territories that they know well and will
expand their own territory quickly if a neighbor vacates a desirable area, as well
as respond quickly to intrusions across the boundary into their own territory.
Some animals leave their nest or burrow in search of food, which they then bring
back home before setting out again in search of more. Animals can find them-
selves in unfamiliar surroundings, faced with the problem of getting back home.
Most spectacularly, many animals set out on migratory journeys of thousands of
kilometers to reach more a favorable habitat for breeding or wintering, some-
times with no previous experience of either the destination or the route.
270 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
In this chapter I will describe research that has been done with food-storing
birds and other animals that illustrates a few of the many ways animals remem-
ber spatial locations and navigate from one place to another, along with
describing some of the brain mechanisms that underlie spatial memory and
orientation. Many different methods of orientation and navigation are used
by animals (see Volume 1, Chapter 12). Some are reasonably well understood,
but for others it remains a mystery exactly how they work. There is, likewise, a
great deal of information about some brain mechanisms of memory and orien-
tation and relatively little about others. Remembering places, orienting, and
navigating are among the most fascinating things that animals do. The fascina-
tion comes from knowing for certain that animals do these things and the
realization that we have only a very incomplete understanding of how they
do it. We know, for example, that some small birds create thousands of scat-
tered food caches in the fall and winter and retrieve them by remembering
these unique spatial locations. We know that some birds leave the temperate
latitudes where they breed, travel thousands of kilometers to the tropics, and
return again to breed in the same place they nested last year. We know that
sea turtles leave the beach where they were born, spend years in the ocean,
and then return again to their natal beach, usually only briefly, to nest and
lay eggs. This chapter will look at some of the things that have been discovered
about orientation and memory for places on the relatively small spatial scale of
animals’ daily lives in searching for stored food, finding the way back to a nest,
and navigating through a familiar home range.
FOOD-STORING BIRDS
A number of birds familiar to even casual observers of animal behavior—
chickadees and tits, jays, and nuthatches—have a secret life. Some of the food
they find they do not eat right away but instead store to consume later.
Although many people are completely unaware of this behavior, it is actually
not difficult to observe if you carefully watch a chickadee taking food from a
backyard feeder in fall or winter. At that time of year, as days grow short and
food becomes more difficult to find, black-capped chickadees (Poecile atrica-
pillus), Carolina chickadees (P. carolinensis), and their European relatives
marsh tits (P. palustris) and willow tits (P. montanus) create thousands of
caches, each containing a single food item. Repeated quick visits by the same
bird to a feeder full of sunflower seeds mean that the bird is storing most of
what it is carrying away because opening and eating a sunflower seed usually
takes a chickadee 50 seconds or more (Boisvert & Sherry, 2000). Intervals
between visits that are shorter than this mean the chickadee has stored the
HOW ANIMALS REMEMBER PLACES AND FIND THEIR WAY AROUND 271
seed, which it can do very quickly, before coming back for more. Chickadees
and tits will cache seeds, pieces of nut, insects, indeed anything they normally
eat, in any small crevice in tree bark, or under leaves, or in moss on the
ground. They will also readily cache food in captivity, and this has led to a
great deal of research on a basic question in animal spatial memory: how do
food-storing animals find their caches again? This research has not only
addressed an old question about whether or not food-storing animals ever find
their caches again, it has also led to new discoveries about spatial memory and
orientation (Shettleworth & Hampton, 1998; Gould et al., 2010; Sherry &
Hoshooley, 2010; Smulders et al., 2010).
Landmarks
Stephen Vander Wall let Clark’s nutcrackers store pine nuts in a large
aviary (Vander Wall, 1982). Nutcrackers bury their caches by poking their bill
into the ground, opening the bill to create a hole, and letting seeds that are car-
ried in a pouch under their tongue fall into the hole. The floor of the aviary in
Vander Wall’s experiment had a scattered array of rocks and logs. After a nut-
cracker had placed its caches, Vander Wall moved all of the objects in one half
of the aviary 20 cm in the same direction. When the bird returned to search
for food, its searches were accurate on the side of the aviary where nothing
had changed, but on the other side of the aviary searches were off by 20 cm
in the same direction that the objects had been moved. In the middle, where
birds might be expected to have used as landmarks some objects that were later
moved and some that stayed in place, birds missed their caches by intermedi-
ate distances between 0 and 20 cm. The nutcrackers had learned and remem-
bered where their caches were with respect to landmarks.
In an experiment with black-capped chickadees, Rachel Herz, Liana
Zanette, and I allowed birds to store food in an artificial environment con-
tained inside a plain 2 × 2 × 2 meter room (Herz et al., 1994). An observer
could watch the birds from outside this room through one of four dark Plexi-
glas windows, one in each of the four walls. The bird could be introduced to
the room through a small port in each window. Inside were four symmetrical
artificial trees with branches extending in four directions at right angles. Each
branch had small holes drilled in it where the birds could store seeds. The trees
were designed so that 90° and 180° rotations of a tree clockwise or counter-
clockwise would look the same as the original orientation of the tree. Small
colored cards were placed on the branches near each cache site as local land-
marks, and large colored shapes and posters were placed on the walls of the
room as distal landmarks. After the birds had stored food, they were removed
from the room for four hours. When they came back to search for their caches
the room was in one of four conditions: either local landmarks had been
removed, or distal landmarks had been removed, or all landmarks had
been removed, or no landmarks had been removed. Stored food had also been
removed, so we were confident birds could not see or smell any cached food.
Removal of distal landmarks reduced the birds’ search accuracy, but removal
of local landmarks did not. Removal of both kinds of landmarks also reduced
search accuracy. These results show that the birds rely more on distal land-
marks, which in this environment were a meter or two from the cache sites,
than on local landmarks right at the cache site. Because the port through
which the bird was admitted to the room was selected at random, birds could
not have used this as a cue to the location of caches. Similarly, the window
HOW ANIMALS REMEMBER PLACES AND FIND THEIR WAY AROUND 273
through which the observer watched was selected at random, so any move-
ment or sound from the observer that the birds could detect could not be used
as a cue either.
We performed a second experiment in which only distal landmarks were
present during caching. After birds had cached food we rotated the distal land-
marks by 90° (either clockwise or counterclockwise) and by 180°. Birds
searched at sites that were correct with respect to the new locations of the land-
marks rather than at the sites where they had actually cached. These results,
like Vander Wall’s (1982), show that food-storing birds use landmarks near
their caches to identify cache locations.
In hindsight, this makes a lot of sense. Small local landmarks right at the
cache site are more likely to be displaced or covered with snow or fallen leaves
than larger landmarks at a distance. In addition, small local landmarks need to
be found before they can be used. Finding them may be as difficult as finding
the cache site itself. Large distal landmarks are more useful because they are
less likely to be disturbed or covered and can be seen from a distance. But
how does a large object a meter or so from a cache site indicate a location?
In order for landmarks to work, the animal must remember two things about
the relation between the landmark and the place it is searching for: distance
and direction. An asymmetrical landmark can provide direction information.
Imagine a fallen log with a branch protruding on one side. Suppose the cache
is on the same side of the fallen log as the protruding branch. It might lie
somewhere along a line pointing off at a 90° angle from the branch side of
the log. But where along this line? Direction alone does not specify a location
in space. A landmark can also give distance information. The cache site might
be about 1.5 m from fallen log. But in which direction? Distance alone is not
enough information either. Combining direction and distance, however, pin-
points the cache site. It lies 1.5 m away from fallen log on a line extending at
an angle of 90° from the branch side. A quantity that has both direction and
magnitude is a vector, and so using a landmark requires remembering a vector:
a direction and a distance. This is not to say that animals consciously remem-
ber distance and direction in the way that we do, or analyze the problem the
way we would, but we know animals can accurately relocate places using land-
marks (Collett et al., 2007), and that means they must have some representa-
tion in their brain or nervous system of the vector between the landmark and
the place they are looking for.
In practice, remembering vectors from landmarks probably involves error
in estimating and remembering both the distance and direction, so using
multiple landmarks, each with its own vector, makes landmark use more accu-
rate. The fact that nutcrackers missed their caches in the middle of the aviary
274 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
used to search for caches at the new site (with a deviation error of 90º), was
not used at all at the new site, probably because there were no familiar land-
marks. Chickadees are not able to rely exclusively on sun-compass information
to find their caches but instead seem to use it to orient an array of familiar
landmarks, imposing a compass direction on the familiar landscape. A refer-
ence system used in this way assigns a polarity to the familiar array. We may,
for example, be familiar with the landmarks in our local park but also have
some sense that the end of the park with the fountain is north. The layout
of landmarks in the park would be exactly the same if the park was to mysteri-
ously rotate by 180º, but it would be polarized differently, with the fountain
now in the south. This may be how chickadees integrate sun-compass and
landmark information, using local landmarks to find caches while at the same
time polarizing the environment using sun-compass information. Assigning
polarity to familiar areas may help animals move from one familiar area to
another because they can use the polarizing cue to align this mosaic of familiar
areas (Wiltschko & Balda, 1989). If birds are clock shifted they make system-
atic errors because landmarks and the polarizing cue are in conflict. In a novel
location, as in our experiment with chickadees, there are no familiar landmarks
to guide their search for caches. In terms of landmarks, the place they are
searching does not look at all like the place where they hid their food, and hav-
ing a polarizing cue for this unfamiliar landscape does not help.
integration, a method of integrating all of the turns it makes and the length of
its straight paths between turns to keep a running record of the correct dis-
tance and direction home. When Cataglyphis makes a turn it can determine
the magnitude of the turn by the change that occurs in its orientation with
respect to the sun and the pattern of polarized light in the sky. Polarized sky-
light is used by many insects for navigation. Regions of the compound eye that
point skyward are specialized for the detection of polarized light. “Polarized”
referring to light is very different from the meaning of the term used earlier
to describe an environment that is polarized by a compass cue (Pye, 2001).
Light is a wave form oscillating at right angles to the path the light travels.
Normally, light consists of waves oscillating at all possible right angles to the
direction of travel. Polarized light consists of light with oscillation of its wave
form confined to a single plane at a right angle to the direction of travel, the
result of passing through a polarizing filter or reflecting off some kinds of sur-
faces. Sunlight becomes polarized by passing through the atmosphere. The
degree of polarization in a clear sky depends on the position of the sun. In
the direction of the sun, sky light is not polarized, but its polarization increases
away from the sun, reaching a maximum at 90º from the sun. For animals that
can see polarized light, like insects, the pattern of skylight polarization is used
as a global reference system. Sun-compass orientation in insects is often
achieved by orientation to these patterns of polarization in the sky. The proof
of this is that insects like honey bees can determine a compass bearing even if
they cannot see the sun, only a patch of clear sky. On an overcast day, when
they cannot see sky-light polarization either, they cannot use this source of
compass information.
Determining the magnitude of its turns with respect to polarized sky-
light and weighting these turns by the length of the path travelled between
turns gives Cataglyphis enough information to come up with a homeward
vector that is approximately correct. Martin Müller and Rudiger Wehner
(1988) showed that a simple model that weighted turns in this way pro-
duced not only the same homeward bearing the ants followed but also pro-
duced the same deviation errors from the correct homeward route that the
ants made.
Experiments with homeward-bound ants also show that manipulating the
position of the sun is not as fanciful as I said earlier. A century ago, Felix Sant-
schi showed that ants use the position of the sun for orientation by preventing
ants from seeing the actual sun and reflecting an image of the sun back at the
ant with a mirror (Santschi, 1911). The mirror caused an apparent 180º shift
in the location of the sun from the ant’s point of view, and the result was a
180º reversal of the ant’s path.
278 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
remember spatial locations but could find food normally when they had to
remember the significance of the colored cards (Sherry & Vaccarino, 1989).
This result is very similar to other results, with birds and mammals, showing
that damage to the hippocampus has a selective effect on memory for spatial
locations and does not disrupt learned associations between a cue and the pres-
ence of food.
Food-storing birds, interestingly, have a hippocampus that is larger than the
hippocampus of birds that do not store food (Krebs et al., 1989; Sherry et al.,
1989). Birds in the chickadee and tit family, the Paridae, and birds in jay and
crow family, the Corvidae, which includes the Clark’s nutcracker, vary a great
deal in body size and hence total brain size. But they have consistently larger
hippocampuses, relative to brain size, than birds in families in which food stor-
ing does not occur (Lucas et al., 2004). It seems that the ecological pressures
favoring food storing in certain groups of birds have led to natural selection
for good spatial memory and orientation abilities, which has in turn modified
the brain regions supporting these cognitive abilities.
Hippocampal Neurogenesis
For many years the adult brain was thought not to produce new brain cells.
The belief was that once adulthood was reached, no new neurons were added
to the adult brain. Although there had been previous indications that this
might be a mistaken view (Altman, 1962), it was research on the song-
control system of birds that eventually proved that neurogenesis can occur
in adulthood (Goldman & Nottebohm, 1983; Nottebohm, 2004). New neu-
rons are also added in adulthood to the hippocampus of food-storing birds
(Barnea & Nottebohm, 1994). Food-storing birds add far more new neurons
to their hippocampus than non-food-storing birds do, and there is a seasonal
pattern in the recruitment of new neurons to the hippocampus of food-
storers that is not found in non-food-storers (Hoshooley & Sherry, 2007).
Although there can be variation in the exact seasonal timing of hippocampal
neurogenesis in food-storers, it tends to be correlated with food storing itself,
occurring at a higher frequency in fall and winter than in summer (Sherry &
Hoshooley, 2010).
cowbird chicks. Female shiny cowbirds search for host nests while males do
not. Another cowbird, the screaming cowbird (Molothrus rufoaxillaris), is a
specialist parasite, using only one species as its host. Male and female scream-
ing cowbirds search together for nests of their host. The host of the screaming
cowbird is a cowbird, the bay-winged cowbird (Agelaioides badius), which is
not a brood parasite at all. Bay-winged cowbirds build their own nests, incu-
bate their own eggs, and raise their own young, along with the occasional
screaming cowbird chick. Female shiny cowbirds have a larger hippocampus
than males, as might be expected from the sex difference in searching for host
nests. Hippocampus size does not differ between the sexes in either screaming
cowbirds, because both sexes search for host nests, or in bay-winged cowbirds,
because neither sex searches for host nests (Reboreda et al., 1996).
(by which time the waxworms had gone bad) they retrieved peanuts from the
correct cache sites. These tests were conducted with neither type of food
actually present in the caches so the birds could not detect the food and had
to use memory for what they had hidden where. Scrub jays could remember
what (waxworms or peanuts), where (in which part of the ice-cube tray), and
when (4 or 124 hours ago). Similar experiments have now been performed
with other animals, and some, but not all, produce similar results. Magpies
(Pica pica), black-capped chickadees, and rats can all solve the what-where-
when problem (Babb & Crystal, 2005; Feeney et al., 2009; Zinkivskay
et al., 2009), while some primates seem unable to (Hampton et al., 2005).
Research on memory for what, where, and when shows that memory for
spatial location does not exist in a vacuum. Places have rich associations for
us, and for animals, too, they are probably much more than just a point in
space. Some places have food, others none. Some places have greater risk of
exposure to predators than others. Some places are far off and are visited only
rarely, perhaps to obtain a rare nutrient or to lay eggs and then depart again,
like nesting sea turtles. Some places are so familiar animals may not even pay
attention to them. Rodents and bats will crash into obstacles they can easily
detect if these obstacles are placed to block a familiar route that the animals
use regularly (Stamps, 1995).
CONCLUSIONS
We have barely scratched the surface of research on spatial memory, orienta-
tion, and navigation. Our understanding of the brain mechanisms of memory
and spatial ability has grown rapidly in the past decade as new methods of
investigating brain activity in both animals (Zapka et al., 2010) and people
(Maguire et al., 2000) have become available. A growing consensus among
researchers is that animals probably use a great many different means of orien-
tation and navigation, either simultaneously or in a hierarchical fashion
matched to the spatial scale of the orientation problem they are solving
(Bingman & Cheng, 2005). New information is continually becoming avail-
able on old questions, like how animals use landmarks, a question that Niko
Tinbergen, one of the founders of the modern scientific study of animal behav-
ior, investigated in the 1930s (Tinbergen, 1932). New questions are being
raised as we gain greater awareness of the navigational prowess of animals and
the previously unknown sensory systems they use to solve them (Fleissner
et al., 2003; Keary & Bischof, 2012). Some long-distance movement may be
solvable by very simple means: compute a vector and follow it. Some local
movement may involve complex transformations of grid-like representations
HOW ANIMALS REMEMBER PLACES AND FIND THEIR WAY AROUND 285
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research
Council of Canada for research support, and the many students and colleagues
with whom I have collaborated in investigating the spatial ability of food-
storers, brood parasites, and other animals.
INTRODUCTION
Animal cognition includes perception, learning, memory, decision making,
and other processes in which animals obtain information about the environ-
ment through their senses, retain it, and act on it (Shettleworth, 2001,
2010). In this chapter, I discuss case studies that have used animal-cognition
principles in conservation. I expand on four conceptual essays about the inter-
face of behavior and conservation, which were previously published in The
Conservation Behaviorist (TCB), a biannual periodical of the Animal Behavior
Society’s Conservation Committee: “Animal Cognition and Its Role in Con-
servation Behavior” (Paz-y-Miño-C, 2005), “Behavioral Unknowns: An
Emerging Challenge for Conservation” (Paz-y-Miño-C, 2003), “Contribution
of Animal Behavior Research to Conservation Biology” (Paz-y-Miño-C,
2006), and “Behavior and Conservation in the Galapagos” (Paz-y-Miño-C,
2007). I recommend the reader, particularly the students and those working
in hands-on conservation, to visit TCB online for theoretical and practical dis-
cussions on behavior and conservation (http://animalbehaviorsociety.org/
Committees/ABSConservation/ConservationBehaviorist). For a great intro-
duction to the maturing field of conservation behavior, I suggest the
290 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Figure 11.1. Areas of animal behavior most commonly discussed in conservation biol-
ogy studies. Number of articles per category is indicated next to each bar. Percent-
ages were calculated for each category in respect to the total number of articles in the
survey (N ¼ 277). The arrow highlights cognition, N ¼ 18, or 7 percent, the main
focus of this chapter. (Modified from Paz-y-Miño-C, 2006, with permission from The
Conservation Behaviorist)
292 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
Box 11.1
Some cognitive terminology that can be applied to conservation
simply an analogous scenario from which we can learn about the downfall of
traditions but for which application to conservation is limited? Below, I elabo-
rate on these challenging questions and try to answer them.
behavior also required that the released animals have the full species-specific
repertoire (e.g., greetings, grooming, and agonistic behaviors needed to estab-
lish and reaffirm relationships) and show no abnormal or inappropriate
patterns of behavior (Tutin et al., 2001).
Box 11.2
Examples of maladaptive behavior
Box 11.3
Cognitive abilities documented in humans and other taxa
CONCLUDING REMARKS
The six areas discussed above and shown in Figure 11.3, where wildlife
managers have used principles of cognitive ethology in conservation efforts (
i.e., the training of animals to avoid predators, ensuring that mate choice in
captivity mimics mate choice in nature, eliminating interspecific sexual and
social imprinting, enhancing of social learning and social facilitation, identify-
ing inappropriate conservation strategies, and detecting and treating the nega-
tive effects of maladaptive behaviors), demonstrate that animal cognition
principles not only have the potential to contribute to conservation efforts
but have indeed played a unique role in animal rehabilitation and captive
breeding for reintroductions. Some of the paradigms currently explored by
cognitive ethologists could further influence conservation efforts in significant
ways, for example, phenotypic plasticity in learning and animal adaptability to
changing environments (i.e., animals learn to assess new landscapes, new prey,
new predators), visual and vocal communication (i.e., signaling, dialect forma-
tion in increasingly isolated metapopulations), spatial orientation and naviga-
tion (memory in food-storing birds), foraging and search-image formation in
constantly evolving prey or habitat (e.g., virtual behavioral ecology), hierarchy
learning, social learning, and social facilitation (Balda et al., 1998; Shettle-
worth, 2001, 2010; Bond & Kamil, 2002; Seed et al., 2009). The extent to
which these capabilities are being influenced or disrupted by current habitat
fragmentation and degradation, or even by larger-scale environmental prob-
lems (i.e., climate change, ozone depletion, pollution), deserves closer analysis.
Animal cognition theory, therefore, can continue to assist us in identifying,
understanding, and guiding our conservation practices to restore mildly
affected or partially lost cognitive legacies. However, wildlife managers and
conservation biologists ought to be alert that recovering cognitive legacies of
species already extinct in the wild, but saved in captivity or reserves, will be a
significant challenge.
COGNITIVE REPERTOIRE, COGNITIVE LEGACIES, AND COLLECTIVE REASONING 305
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I thank Ken Yasukawa for inviting me to write this chapter. My research
collaborator in numerous other projects, Avelina Espinosa, provided signifi-
cant feedback during the preparation of the manuscript. Many thanks to the
members of the Animal Behavior Society Conservation Committee for spon-
soring, over a decade, my role as editor of The Conservation Behaviorist
(TCB): Debra M. Shier (associate editor of TCB), Richard Buchholz, Daniel
T. Blumstein, Ronald R. Swaisgood, Bruce A. Schulte, Colleen Cassady
St. Clair, Mark L. Wildhaber, Esteban Fernández-Juricic, Allison C. Alberts,
James Ha, J. Cully Nordby, Elizabeth V. Lonsdorf, John Eadie, M. Elsbeth
(Misty) McPhee, and Jessica Ward. Students in my laboratory at the Univer-
sity of Massachusetts–Dartmouth, Elsa Yeung, Elizabeth Spinney, Rachael
Bonoan, and Felecia Clodius, contributed with discussion and very useful
references to document this chapter.
Tregenza, T. & N. Wedell. (2000). Genetic compatibility, mate choice and patterns
of parentage: Invited review. Molecular Ecology, 9, 1013–1027.
Tuomainen, U. & U. Candolin. (2011). Behavioural responses to human-induced
environmental change. Biological Reviews, 86, 640–657.
Tutin, C. E. G., M. Ancrenaz, J. Paredes, M. Vacher-Vallas, C. Vidal, B. Goossens,
M. W. Bruford, & A. Jamart. (2001). Conservation biology framework for
the release of wild-born orphaned chimpanzees into the Conkouati Reserve,
Congo. Conservation Biology, 15, 1247–1257.
Udell, M. A. R., N. R. Dorey, & C. D. L. Winne. (2011). Can your dog read your
mind? Understanding the causes of canine perspective taking. Learning and
Behavior, 39, 289–302.
Valutis, L. L. & J. M. Marzluff. (1999). The appropriateness of puppet-rearing birds
for reintroduction. Conservation Biology, 13, 584–591.
van Schaik, C. P. & J. M. Burkart. (2011). Social learning and evolution: The cultural
intelligence hypothesis. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of
London, B, 366, 1008–1016.
Wasserman, E. A. & T. R. Zentall (eds.). (2006). Comparative Cognition. New York:
Oxford University Press.
Whitehead, H. (2010). Conserving and managing animals that learn socially and
share cultures. Learning and Behavior, 38, 329–336.
Yeager, C. P. (1997). Orangutan rehabilitation in Tanjung Putin National Park,
Indonesia. Conservation Biology, 11, 802–805.
Zentall, T. R., E. A. Wasserman, O. F. Lazareva, R. K. R. Thompson, & M. J.
Rattermann. (2008). Concept learning in animals. Comparative Cognition
and Behavior Reviews, 3, 13–45.
12
INTRODUCTION
Mate choice in humans is often portrayed as more nuanced and individualistic
than mate choice in nonhuman animals, but recent research on individual
differences in human mate choice has drawn much inspiration from studies
of animals as diverse as stickleback, quail, and mice. In this chapter, we will
cover four main areas in which theory and findings from studies of individual
differences in nonhuman animals’ mate choices have informed research on the
human animal. First we will explain how an individual’s own condition influ-
ences the quality of the mates he or she prefers. Next we will describe how
adaptations that function to avoid close inbreeding or extreme outbreeding
can result in mate preferences that are individually tuned through experience
with kin. Then we will cover how mate preferences can be contingent on
aspects of the environment, creating systematic differences between individ-
uals and even populations. Finally, we will address the role of genetic variation
in the major histocompatibility complex (MHC) in shaping mate choice in
complex ways. In conclusion, we will highlight the ways in which seemingly
312 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
weight or body size) and mate choice. Females who were in better condition
(relatively heavier) showed a greater preference for the red-throated male,
and those in worse condition showed a preference for the orange male. As
these females were raised in laboratory conditions and isolated from males
before becoming reproductively active, these preferences are not dependent
on experience of competition in mating. Further evidence for condition-
dependent preferences is also seen in sticklebacks. Symmetry is a trait that
has long been associated with quality, and female sticklebacks in poor physical
condition do not show as strong a preference for symmetry as those in better
condition (Mazzi et al., 2003).
Another example of condition-dependent mate choice comes from another
fish species. The parasite Gyrodactylus turnbulli reduces the sexual display and
color intensity of male guppies (Poecilia reticulata), which makes them less
attractive to females (Houde & Torio, 1992). Silvia López (1999) examined
how this same parasite influences female mate-choice decisions. Infected and
uninfected females were presented with a choice of two males, one attractive
(high display rate, high color intensity), one unattractive (low display rate,
low color intensity). When presented with these two males, uninfected
females were significantly more likely to choose the attractive male over the
less attractive male. By contrast, infected females were less discriminative in
their choice of mates and showed no preference for the more attractive male
over the less attractive male. Females were raised in laboratory conditions in
same-gender groups and were virgin when presented with males to choose
between, thereby minimizing the possibility that learning played any role in
the acquisition of these preferences. As well as the decreased discrimination,
activity during choice trials also decreased with increasing parasite load, imply-
ing that perhaps such females are unable to engage in energetically costly
choice (López, 1999).
Beyond fish species, condition-dependent choice is also seen in amphibians
and birds. For example, in spadefoot toads (Pelobates fuscus), males in better
condition produce longer calls (Pfennig & Tinsley, 2002). Parasitized females
do not show a preference for male call length whereas unparasitized females
prefer longer calls, which are indicative of a male in good condition (Pfennig
& Tinsley, 2002).
In birds, zebra finches (Taeniopygia guttata) provide an interesting example
of flexibility in mating strategy according to relative attractiveness. Females
made attractive with red leg bands were found to spend less time carrying
out parental duties than both those typical of their sex and of unattractive
females (those with green bands that are unattractive to males) but still had
BEAUTY IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER 315
relatively less impressed by youth and more positive to age cues in male faces
than women with young parents. For men judging female faces, preferences
appeared to be influenced only by the opposite-sex parent, the mother.
Eye color and hair color are also stable traits that can be observed in parents
across childhood. Wilson and Barrett (1987) showed a trend for women to
choose partners whose eye color resembled their father’s, though this finding
was confounded with own eye color. Following this study, Little, Penton-
Voak, Burt, and Perrett (2003) have shown that there are generally positive
correlations between self and partner’s hair and eye color but that in regression
these relationships are explained by a positive relationship between parental
traits and partner traits. Such effects were somewhat specific to opposite-sex
parental traits, suggesting a focused mechanism potentially akin to imprinting.
Further evidence for familial imprinting in humans comes from studies of
preferences for parental traits. For example, romantic partners and opposite-
sex parents tend to be similar in measured facial proportions (Bereczkei et
al., 2009), ethnicity (Jedlicka, 1980), and general facial appearance (Bereczkei
et al., 2004). Additionally, the extent to which romantic partners or preferred
faces resemble opposite-sex parents is positively correlated with their reported
emotional closeness to the opposite-sex parent (Bereczkei et al., 2002, 2004;
Wiszewska et al., 2007).
Because children resemble their parents (Brédart & French, 1999; Bressan
& Dal Martello, 2002; Bressan & Grassi, 2004; Nesse et al., 1990; Oda et
al., 2002, familial imprinting could also influence preferences for self-
resemblance discussed above (e.g., DeBruine, 2002, 2004, 2005; DeBruine,
Jones, Little, et al., 2011). Christopher Watkins and colleagues (2011)
showed that women’s preferences for self-resemblance in opposite-sex, but
not same-sex, anonymous faces was correlated with the women’s rated emo-
tional closeness to their father but not their mother. These findings link the
research on human kin recognition and imprinting, implicating familial
imprinting in responses to self-resemblance, at least for sexual judgments of
opposite-sex individuals.
are required to swim against a stronger current between mates (Milinski &
Bakker, 1992). This effect of current strength on female choosiness may occur
because the environmental factor (the current) alters the costs of sampling
additional mates (Milinski & Bakker, 1992). Another example of environ-
mental factors influencing mate choice in nonhuman species comes from stud-
ies of Uganda kob (Kobus kob). These studies suggest that the extent to which
females are attracted to males in territories within leks that have good visibility
of the surrounding area, rather than using phenotypic conditions to guide
their choices, is at least partly dependent on the risk of predation (Deutsch
& Weeks, 1992). These are just two of many examples of environmental factors
modulating either the extent to which preferences for physical cues are expressed
or the nature of physical cues that are preferred that have been uncovered in stud-
ies of mate choice in nonhuman species. Importantly, these types of facultative
preferences can help explain geographical differences in mate choices in nonhu-
man animals (Jennions & Petrie, 1997) and can stimulate studies of geographic
variation in human mate preferences (e.g., Gangestad & Buss, 1993). This sec-
tion of our chapter will discuss the evidence that at least three types of environ-
mental factors (pathogen stress, resource scarcity, and the sex ratio of the local
population) have potentially important effects on women’s mate preferences.
that viewing images depicting likely sources of pathogens (e.g., bowls of body
fluids) increased women’s preferences for masculine characteristics in men’s,
but not women’s, faces. By contrast, viewing control images did not. Consis-
tent with these findings, other work has found that priming women’s concerns
about pathogens by having them complete a questionnaire assessing percep-
tions of their own vulnerability to disease tended to increase their preferences
for putative masculine traits in potential mates (Lee & Zietsch, 2011). These
findings suggest that concerns about pathogens can directly influence women’s
preferences for masculine men and raise the possibility that regional differences
in women’s masculinity preferences might reflect differences in the extent to
which those women have recently been exposed to pathogen cues.
While the work described above focused on investigating the role of patho-
gens in masculinity preferences, other work has focused more on the possible
effects of resource scarcity. In female mate choice in many nonhuman species,
material resources take precedence over phenotypic cues when the environ-
ment is unpredictable and resources are scarce (e.g., Alatalo et al., 1986;
Lifjeld & Slagsvold, 1988). However, feminine characteristics in men are asso-
ciated with their willingness to share resources with others (Price et al., 2011),
and feminine men are perceived as emotionally warm and caring (e.g., Perrett
et al., 1998). It is then, perhaps, unsurprising that recent work on human
mate preferences suggests that women might value cues of men’s willingness
to invest and share resources with others to a greater extent under conditions
where resources are scarce. For example, Anthony Lee and Brendan Zietsch
(2011) recently found that women whose concerns about resource scarcity
were primed by having them complete a questionnaire about their material re-
sources demonstrated stronger preferences for feminine characteristics in
potential mates than did women in control conditions. This finding comple-
ments previous work suggesting that priming women’s concerns about re-
source scarcity by having them imagine themselves in harsh environments in
which resources were scarce tended to increase their preferences for feminine
characteristics in the faces of hypothetical long-term mates (Little et al.,
2007). These findings suggest that women increase their preferences for men
displaying cues of prosociality in order to compensate for scarcity of material
resources. However, other work suggests that similar compensatory effects
occur when participants are primed with scenarios in which emotional re-
sources (e.g., emotional support) are scarce; Watkins and colleagues (in press)
recently demonstrated that priming participants’ concerns about lack of emo-
tional support tended to increase their preferences for feminine men and
women. Collectively, these findings underline the potential importance of re-
source scarcity in human mate preferences.
326 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
The work described above suggests that resource scarcity increases women’s
preferences for cues of prosocial behavior in men. These findings differ some-
what from those observed in some nonhuman species, potentially due to the
greater role that biparental care typically plays in human mating systems. Are
there environmental factors that influence human behavior in ways that are
more similar to the effects observed in nonhuman species? Perhaps one of
the clearest examples of environmental factors having comparable effects on
mating-related behaviors in nonhuman species and mating-related perceptions
in women comes from research that has explored the effects of cues to the sex
ratio of the local population.
The potential costs of competing for mates in good physical condition are
reduced considerably when potential mates are plentiful and competitors for
mates are relatively scarce (e.g., Pedersen, 1991). This may allow individuals
to increase their preferences for cues that are associated with high quality in
potential mates and require them to engage in less within-sex competition in
order to secure mates (e.g., Pedersen, 1991). Altered mate preferences as a
result of experimentally manipulated operational sex ratios have been
reported for several different species. For example, female guppies show
stronger preferences for attractive male color characteristics when the sex ratio
is biased towards males than when it is biased towards females (Jirotkul,
1999). In field crickets (Gryllus pennsylvanicus), female mate preferences also
show greater selectivity when the sex ratio is biased towards males (Souroukis
& Murray, 1994). In many species, the intensity of within-sex competition
is also affected by altering the sex ratio. For example, biasing the sex ratio
towards own-sex individuals causes more intense within-sex competition in
Japanese medaka (Oryzias latipes) (Clark & Grant, 2010), guppies (Jirotkul,
1999), red-spotted newts (Notophthalmus viridescens) (Verrell, 1983), and
amphipods (Dick & Elwood, 1996). Importantly, these effects complement
findings from studies that investigated relationships between naturally occur-
ring variation in sex ratios and indices of either mate preferences or within-
sex competition for mates.
While the findings described above indicate that sex ratio influences mate
preferences and within-sex competition in many nonhuman species, correla-
tional studies of naturally occurring variation in human sex ratios suggest that
they may also be important for human behavior. For example, Thomas Pollet
and Daniel Nettle (2008) found that women in regions of the United States
with male-biased sex ratios demonstrated stronger preferences for high-
socioeconomic-status (i.e., attractive; Hume & Montgomerie, 2001) men
than did women in regions of the United States with female-biased sex ratios.
More recently, Watkins and colleagues (2012) investigated whether women’s
BEAUTY IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER 327
responses to facial symmetry, a putative cue of mate quality in both men and
women (see, e.g., Gangestad & Thornhill, 2003), could be altered by exposing
them to male-biased or female-biased slideshows. Viewing the slideshows
tended to increase preferences for symmetry in the sex that was depicted as
being in the majority and tended to decrease preferences for symmetry in the
sex that was depicted as being in the minority. These findings suggest that
increasing the apparent proportion of a given sex in the local population
increased the salience of facial cues of quality in that sex, which may support
adaptive appraisals of both potential mates’ and competitors’ quality. A second
experiment suggested that this effect of sex ratio was independent of the degree
of variation in the attractiveness of individuals depicted in the slideshows.
These findings suggest that symmetry preferences in humans are influenced
by cues to the sex ratio of the local population in ways that complement the
facultative responses that have been observed in many other species.
Together, the findings discussed in this section suggest that environmental
factors, such as pathogens, resource scarcity, and sex ratio, can influence
humans’ perceptions of potential mates (and, in some cases, competitors for
mates). Moreover, these effects are often very similar to those seen in other
species and appear to be consistent with formulations of sexual selection
theory that predict effects of environmental factors on mate choice. Encourag-
ingly, and following examples set by researchers studying mating-related
behaviors in nonhuman species, the use of experimental, rather than correla-
tional, methods has often allowed researchers to make strong claims about
the causal role environmental factors can play in human mate preferences.
Indeed, we suggest here that such insights are critical if we are to develop a
more complete understanding of human mating behavior.
known variants, or alleles, while three other human MHC genes (HLA-A,
HLA-C, HLA-DRB1) each have over 1,000 known alleles (these numbers
continue to rise steadily due to advances in rapid sequencing techniques).
MHC variability is also thought to be generated and maintained because
MHC genes are codominantly expressed such that, for any given gene, alleles
inherited from both the mother and the father are functional, leading to
heterozygote advantage (individuals with two different alleles [heterozygotes]
have higher fitness than those with two copies of the same allele [homozy-
gotes]) in the face of infectious assault (Penn et al., 2002; McClelland et al.,
2003).
In recent years, a huge body of evidence has been amassed to demonstrate
that MHC polymorphism is also at least partly generated or maintained
through sexual selection (for reviews, see, e.g., Ziegler et al., 2005; Milinski,
2006). Individuals who choose mates that share no or few MHC alleles will
produce offspring who are more likely to be MHC heterozygous, and because
such offspring will themselves be more resistant to infection, selection could
favor the evolution of MHC-based mate preferences. Furthermore, individuals
with MHC alleles that are relatively rare in the population would then be
more often selected as mates, promoting MHC diversification through
frequency-dependent selection.
Although the benefit of producing MHC-heterozygous offspring clearly has
potential to generate MHC-disassortative mate preferences (preference for
mates with MHC alleles different from one’s own), MHC could also be
involved in shaping mate preferences in another way, by enabling discrimina-
tion of overall genomic dissimilarity in potential mates (Apanius et al., 1997;
Kempenaers, 2007). Here, the extremely polymorphic nature of the MHC
provides a fine-grained cue of pairwise genetic dissimilarity between a choos-
ing individual and a range of potential mates, but the benefits of mating disas-
sortatively are reaped through heterozygosity at genes outside the MHC. In
other words, the MHC could provide a mechanism for avoiding inbreeding
in a general sense.
Regardless of whether the outcome is MHC heterozygosity in offspring or
genome-wide inbreeding avoidance, choosing a mate with few MHC alleles
in common requires some form of phenotypic manifestation of MHC geno-
type in order for discrimination of dissimilar mates to occur. Across a wide
range of vertebrate taxa, this is known to occur through odor. Exactly how
MHC genotype comes to shape an individual’s odor profile is as yet largely
unknown, but it probably works through one of two closely related mecha-
nisms, each of which involves bacterial action (for a full discussion of possible
mechanisms, see Penn & Potts, 1998b). In the first, the commensal
BEAUTY IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER 329
microflora breaks down peptides, which include the individual’s MHC pepti-
des, producing an MHC-characteristic mixture of volatile odor compounds.
Another possibility is that the population structure of the commensal micro-
flora themselves is shaped by the individual’s MHC genotype and thus produ-
ces a characteristic odor. Whatever the mechanism, the mate preferences
expressed in adulthood appear to be learned during odor exposure in the peri-
natal environment, as cross-fostering alters subsequent adult choice so that
preferred mates tend to be dissimilar from the foster family rather than the
chooser’s own MHC genotype (Penn & Potts, 1998a).
diverse species, across reptiles (Olsson et al., 2003; Miller et al., 2009),
amphibians (Bos et al., 2009), fish (Landry et al., 2001; Reusch et al., 2001;
Aeschlimann et al., 2003; Skarstein et al., 2005; Forsberg et al., 2007), birds
(Freeman-Gallant et al., 2003, 2006), and other mammals including primates
(Setchell et al., 2010; Setchell & Huchard, 2010).
Complexity in MHC-correlated choice—It should also be noted that some
studies report no effects of MHC on mating patterns (Wedekind et al.,
2004; Westerdahl, 2004; Huchard et al., 2010), and many report effects that
are not as straightforward as some of the findings discussed so far. In at least
some cases, absence of evidence for MHC-correlated choice might be
explained by females being prevented from expressing preference due to spe-
cific aspects of the mating system such as levels of male intrasexual competi-
tion over mates (Paterson & Pemberton, 1997; Garner et al., 2010). There
are several other possible reasons, the most important of which we discuss in
this section.
First, assortment at the MHC is only one among a wide range of selective
forces acting on mate choice—see, for example, the other sections of this chap-
ter. Even if we consider only indirect genetic benefits, a female’s preference for
a genetically compatible or complementary (e.g., MHC-dissimilar) male is
weighed against evidence of his “good genes” expressed through other pheno-
typic characters (Mays & Hill, 2004; Neff & Pitcher, 2005). These two pro-
cesses have the potential to deliver nonadditive and additive genetic benefits
in offspring fitness, respectively; in other words, the benefits gained from mat-
ing with a specific male vary across different females in the case of MHC but
are relatively constant for different females mating with the same male carrying
good genes. Again, the first investigation of how females balance these two
critical influences on offspring fitness comes from mice. In addition to
MHC-correlated preferences, females gain fitness benefits through mating
with dominant males, assessing their relative social status using another set of
volatile compounds also present in urinary scent marks (reviewed in Gosling
& Roberts, 2001). When these traits were experimentally covaried, MHC dis-
similarity predicted female preferences when variation among available males
was low for the good gene trait or high for MHC dissimilarity (Roberts &
Gosling, 2003). Evidence from birds (Oh & Badyaev, 2006) suggests that
these conditions of relative variation in availability of “good” and “compatible”
genes among males in a population can occur across seasons and lead to the
same patterns of choice as found by Craig Roberts and Morris Gosling in
the lab.
Second, MHC-dependent mate choice is not necessarily explained simply
by a search for overall dissimilarity. For example, choice may be underpinned
BEAUTY IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER 331
under some conditions by dissimilarity for specific MHC alleles and not
others (Ekblom et al., 2004). Alternatively, growing evidence suggests that
an intermediate, rather than extreme, level of dissimilarity might be preferable
in mates (Penn & Potts, 1999; Aeschlimann et al., 2003; Forsberg et al.,
2007; Roberts, 2009) because intermediate levels of MHC diversity in off-
spring lead to highest immunocompetence (Nowak et al., 1992; Wegner,
Kalbe, et al., 2003; Wegner, Reusch, et al., 2003).
Third, MHC-disassortative patterns may not be observed because females
may simply lack viable alternatives (c.f. Blomqvist et al., 2002). An illuminat-
ing illustration of how patterns of MHC-disassortative mating may be not
immediately apparent, even where they could be important, occurs in socially
monogamous species. In birds, for example, female choice is largely based on a
male’s territory quality, which dictates likely quality of offspring provisioning
(Alatalo et al., 1986). A few females might also be able to complement this
choice using cues of genetic similarity (Mulard et al., 2009), but many will
not. However, if they also engage in extra-pair copulations (EPCs), they have
a “second chance” to obtain genetic diversity in their offspring (Petrie &
Kempenaers, 1998; Jennions & Petrie, 2000; Kempenaers, 2007). In line
with this idea, studies have shown that females who are paired with relatively
genetically similar social partners (i.e., the male who helps feed the chicks)
are more likely to seek EPCs (Blomqvist et al., 2002; Eimes et al., 2005;
Tarvin et al., 2005; Fossoy et al., 2008) and by so doing gain increased off-
spring heterozygosity with enhanced cellular immunity (Fossoy et al., 2008)
and higher hatching success, growth rates, and survival (Mulard et al.,
2009). Furthermore, females who engage in EPCs with geographically more
distant males appear to gain increased heterozygosity, suggesting they actively
seek out genetically dissimilar males (Foerster et al., 2003; Stapleton et al.,
2007). Many of these studies do not specifically examine genetic dissimilarity
at the MHC between social and extra-pair partners, though there is every rea-
son to suspect that the reported effects could be driven by MHC. Indeed,
when MHC is specifically examined, very similar patterns are described, for
example in savannah sparrows (Passerculus sandwichensis) (Freeman-Gallant
et al., 2003). Similar patterns also occur in some monogamous mammals
(Cohas et al., 2008; Schwensow et al., 2008).
Finally, preferences discussed so far reflect potential indirect fitness benefits
gained through increased viability of progeny. However, the MHC could also
have effects on mate choice independently of genetic dissimilarity between
parents. Although heterozygosity is not strictly heritable, it could itself be
attractive in a potential mate (especially in males) and could provide direct
benefits to individuals mating with heterozygotes. This is known as the
332 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
higher desire for extra-pair partners, and higher incidence of having extra-pair
sex compared with women relatively MHC dissimilar to their partner. The
resemblance between these results and those previously described in other
socially monogamous species is palpable.
The second example takes us back to the initial experiment by Wedekind
and colleagues (1995). While women near to ovulation preferred the odors
of MHC-dissimilar men, another group of women who were using oral con-
traception (the “pill”) showed the opposite preference. The pill suppresses
the hormonal changes experienced during ovulation and produces hormonal
levels more like those seen during pregnancy. Thus, a preference for MHC-
similar male odors in women using oral contraceptives may be analogous to
preferences for MHC similarity in mice during pregnancy, a time when
females are not actively mate-searching and may benefit from being near kin
(Manning et al., 1992). Although there might have been confounding differ-
ences among women who used or chose not to use the pill, a subsequent
within-subjects study showed that initiation of pill use altered preferences
towards MHC similarity (Roberts et al., 2008). As pill use is widespread in
women of reproductive age, this disruptive effect on women’s preference could
potentially explain the relatively small proportion of studies finding MHC-
disassortative mating among real couples (Havlicek & Roberts, 2009) and
might increase the risk of choosing an otherwise less preferred partner (Roberts
et al., 2008). Indeed, in a recent twist to this tale, we found that in a large sam-
ple of well-established couples (who have had at least one child with their part-
ner), women who met their partner while using the pill reported lower sexual
satisfaction than those who had not been, and that their sexual dissatisfaction
increased over the course of the relationship. In those couples who had
divorced, women were more likely than expected to have initiated the divorce
if they were using the pill at the start of the relationship (Roberts et al., 2012).
Together with Christine Garver-Apgar and colleagues’ (2006) study, and in
common with patterns of behavior seen in birds and other monogamous
mammals, these results indicate that the MHC appears to influence the qual-
ity and outcome of the partnership, in addition to its effects in determining a
large proportion of individual variability in mate preference.
CONCLUSION
Here we have reviewed four of the most prominent theories that help to
explain individual differences in mate choice, highlighting the similarities of
evidence in both human and nonhuman animals. It is clear that neither carica-
ture of nonhuman animal or human mate choice is correct; each nonhuman
BEAUTY IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER 335
animal species does not have a single, ideal mate preference, and individual
differences in human mate preferences are not mysterious, unquantifiable
results of culture. Indeed, mate preferences in the human animal can be stud-
ied in many of the same ways as mate preferences in nonhuman animals, and
patterns of human mate choice follow many of the same principles as nonhu-
man animal mate choice.
salmon (Salmo salar). Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 268, 1279–
1285.
Lanyon, C., S. Rushton, A. O’Donnell, M. Goodfellow, A. Ward, M. Petrie, S. Jen-
sen, L. M. Gosling, & D. J. Penn. (2007). Murine scent mark microbial com-
munities are genetically determined. FEMS Microbiology Ecology, 59, 576–583.
Lee, A. J. & B. P. Zietsch. (2011). Experimental evidence that women’s mate prefer-
ences are directly influenced by cues of pathogen prevalence and resource scar-
city. Biology Letters, 7, 892–895.
Leinders-Zufall, T., P. Brennan, P. Widmayer, P. Chandramani, A. Maul-Pavicic, M.
Jager, X. H. Li, H. Breer, F. Zufall, & T. Boehm. (2004). MHC class I peptides
as chemosensory signals in the vomeronasal organ. Science, 306, 1033–1037.
Lie, H. C., G. Rhodes, & L. W. Simmons. (2008). Genetic diversity revealed in
human faces. Evolution, 62, 2473–2486.
Lieberman, D. (2009). Rethinking the Taiwanese minor marriage data: Evidence the
mind uses multiple kinship cues to regulate inbreeding avoidance, Evolution
and Human Behavior, 30, 153–160.
Lieberman, D., J. Tooby, & L. Cosmides. (2003). Does morality have a biological
basis? An empirical test of the factors governing moral sentiments relating to
incest. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 270, 819–826.
Lieberman, D., J. Tooby, & L. Cosmides. (2007). The architecture of human kin
detection. Nature, 225, 727–731.
Lifjeld, J. T. & T. Slagsvold. (1988). Female pied flycatchers Ficedula hypoleuca
choose male characteristics in homogeneous habitats. Behavioral Ecology and
Sociobiology, 22, 27–36.
Little, A. C., D. M. Burt, I. S. Penton-Voak, & D. I. Perrett. (2001). Self-perceived
attractiveness influences human female preferences for sexual dimorphism
and symmetry in male faces. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B,
268, 39–44.
Little, A. C. D. L., Cohen, B. C. Jones, & J. Belsky. (2007). Human preferences for
facial masculinity change with relationship type and environmental harshness.
Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 61, 967–973.
Little, A. C., L. M. DeBruine, & B. C. Jones. (2011). Exposure to visual cues of
pathogen contagion changes preferences for masculinity and symmetry in
opposite-sex faces. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 278, 2032–
2039.
Little, A. C., B. C. Jones, & L. M. DeBruine. (2011). Facial attractiveness: Evolution-
ary based research. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London, B,
366, 1638–1659.
Little, A. C. & H. Mannion. (2006). Viewing attractive or unattractive same-sex indi-
viduals changes self-rated attractiveness and face preferences in women. Animal
Behaviour, 72, 981–987.
Little, A. C., I. S. Penton-Voak, D. M. Burt, & D. I. Perrett. (2003). Investigating an
imprinting-like phenomenon in humans: Partners and opposite-sex parents
have similar hair and eye colour. Evolution and Human Behavior, 24, 43–51.
342 ANIMAL BEHAVIOR
López, S. (1999). Parasitized female guppies do not prefer showy males. Animal
Behaviour, 57, 1129–1134.
Manning, C. J., E. K. Wakeland, & W. K. Potts. (1992). Communal nesting patterns
in mice implicate MHC genes in kin recognition. Nature, 360, 581–583.
Mateo, J. M. (2004). Recognition systems and biological organization: The percep-
tion component of social recognition. Annals Zoologica Fennici, 41, 729–745.
Mays, H. L. J. & G. E. Hill. (2004). Choosing mates: Good genes versus genes that
are a good fit. Trends in Ecology and Evolution, 19, 555–559.
Mazzi, D., R. Kunzler, & T. C. M. Bakker. (2003). Female preference for symmetry
in computer-animated three-spined sticklebacks, Gasterosteus aculeatus. Behav-
ioral Ecology and Sociobiology, 54, 156–161.
McClelland, E. E., D. J. Penn, & W. K. Potts. (2003). Major histocompatibility
complex heterozygote superiority during coinfection. Infection and Immunity,
71, 2079–2086.
Milinski, M. (2006). The major histocompatibility complex, sexual selection, and
mate choice. Annual Review of Ecology Evolution and Systematics, 37, 159–186.
Milinski, M. & T. C. M. Bakker. (1990). Female sticklebacks use male coloration in
sticklebacks and therefore avoid parasitised males. Nature, 344, 330–333.
Milinski, M. & T. C. M. Bakker. (1992). Costs influence sequential mate choice in
sticklebacks, Gasterosteus aculeatus. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London,
B, 250, 229–233.
Miller, H. C., J. A. Moore, N. J. Nelson, & C. H. Daugherty. (2009). Influence of
major histocompatibility complex genotype on mating success in a free-
ranging reptile population. Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, B, 276,
1695–1704.
Møller, A. P. & M. Petrie. (2002). Condition dependence, multiple sexual signals,
and immunocompetence in peacocks. Behavioral Ecology, 13, 248–253.
Mulard, H., E. Danchin, S. L. Talbot, A. M. Ramey, S. A. Hatch, J. F. White, F.
Helfenstein, & R. H. Wagner. (2009). Evidence that pairing with genetically
similar mates is maladaptive in a monogamous bird. BMC Evolutionary Biol-
ogy, 9, 147. doi:10.1186/1471-2148-9-147.
Neff, B. D. & T. E. Pitcher. (2005). Genetic quality and sexual selection: An inte-
grated framework for good genes and compatible genes. Molecular Ecology,
14, 19–38.
Nesse, R. M., A. Silverman, & A. Bortz. (1990). Sex differences in ability to recognize
family resemblance. Ethology and Sociobiology, 11, 11–21.
Nowak, M. A., K. Tarczy-Hornoch, & J. M. Austyn. (1992). The optimal number of
major histocompatibility complex molecules in an individual. Proceedings of the
National Academy of Sciences, USA, 89, 10896–10899.
Oda, R., A. Matsumoto-Oda, & O. Kurashima. (2002). Facial resemblance of Japa-
nese children to their parents. Journal of Ethology, 20, 81–85.
Oh, K. P. & A. V. Badyaev. (2006). Adaptive genetic complementarity in mate
choice coexists with selection for elaborate sexual traits. Proceedings of the Royal
Society of London, B, 273, 1913–1919.
BEAUTY IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER 343
Action potential—A brief change in the electrical potential of the cell membrane of
a neuron. Action potentials are propagated along the axons of neurons to convey sig-
nals from one part of the nervous system to another.
Active space—The area over which a signal can be detected by a receiver.
Active time—How long a signal is remembered by the receiver.
Agonistic behaviors—Any social behavior related to fighting.
Alarm call—A signal produced by an animal in response to danger.
Altruistic behavior—A behavior that is costly to the individual performing it and
beneficial to another individual, where costs and benefits are measured in terms of
effects on expected lifetime reproductive success.
Amplexus—A form of mating in which a male amphibian grasps a female with his
front legs to enable him to fertilize the female’s eggs.
Anadromous—Referring to fishes that spend most of their lives in the sea and
migrate to fresh water to breed.
Animal cognition—The study of the mental capacities of nonhuman animals.
Audience effect—A behavior only being produced in the presence of an appropriate
receiver.
Azimuth—An angular measurement from a fixed point, such as north, that
describes a location on the horizon.
Behavioral ecology—An approach to investigations of how different ecological
circumstances affect animal behavior and the evolution of traits with functions that
fit these different environments.
350 GLOSSARY
Ecology—The study of the relations of organisms to one another and to their physi-
cal surroundings.
Ecosystem—An interacting community of living organisms and the nonliving com-
ponents of their environment.
Ectothermic—An organism that controls body temperature through external means.
Egg rejection—Removal of an egg from the nest.
Endothermic—An organism that generates heat to maintain its body temperature.
Entorhinal cortex—A part of the temporal cortex that receives input from all sen-
sory systems and provides major input to the hippocampus.
Episodic-like memory—In animals, memory for events that includes what occurred,
where, and when.
Episodic memory—In humans, autobiographical memory for personally experi-
enced past events. Episodic memory differs from semantic memory, for the meaning
of words or concepts, and procedural memory, for skills and habits.
Epistasis—The effects of one gene being modified by one or several other (modi-
fier) genes.
Ethologist—A scientist who studies the behavior of animals from a biological
perspective.
Ethospecies—A species whose genetic isolation depends on its behavior.
Eventual variety—A song organization in which one song type is repeated many
times before switching to another song type, which is then repeated many times.
Evolutionary biology—The study of the origin and descent with modification of
species and their changes over time.
Experimental learning—Learning by trial and error.
Extra-pair copulation/mating (EPC)—Sexual activity with a partner other than
the mate.
Extra-pair siring—Production of offspring by males other than a female’s mate.
Facultative—An organism that does something (e.g., siblicide) as an option.
Fitness—Ability to survive and reproduce.
Fluctuating asymmetry (FA)—An organism’s deviation from perfect bilateral
symmetry.
Food (sharing) call—A signal that attracts a mate, offspring, or members of the
social group to a food source.
Food web—A depiction of feeding connections (what species eats and what species
gets eaten) in an ecological community.
Foraging—Finding and collecting resources.
Frugivory—Eating fruit.
354 GLOSSARY
Immediate early genes (IEGs)—Genes that are activated temporarily and rapidly in
response to a wide variety of cellular stimuli.
Immediate variety—A song organization in which a bird changes song types after
every song.
Imprinting—A learning process that occurs early in the life of a social animal in
which a specific behavior pattern is established through association with a parent or
other role model.
Inbreeding—Mating of closely related individuals. Production of offspring from
parents more closely related than the average of a population.
Inclusive fitness—The ability of an individual to contribute its genes to the next
generation, taking into account the shared genes passed on by the individual’s close
relatives.
Incremental forgetting—An individual forgetting in a sequence of gradual steps
something it has previously learned.
Information centrality—How often a node lies along edges (paths) that connect
other pairs of individuals within a social network.
Insight learning—Ability to understand the intricacies of a problem and solve it
without previous trial and error.
Intersexual selection—Differential reproductive success that results from individ-
uals of one sex choosing mates from members of the other sex.
Interspecific—Occurring between members of different species.
Intrasexual selection—Differential reproductive success that results from members
of one sex competing with each other for opportunities to mate with members of
the other sex.
Intraspecific—Occurring between members of the same species.
Kin selection—A mechanism of evolution in which characteristics favor the survival
of close relatives of an individual.
Lateral plates—Rigid, bony plates along the side of a fish’s body.
Learning-set formation—Ability to “learn to learn,” or to be able to solve a cogni-
tive problem and use this experience to solve subsequent problems of increasing dif-
ficulty in fewer trials or faster time.
Lek—An assembly area where animals display and court potential mates.
Linear algebra—A branch of mathematics that uses a system of linear equations of
several unknowns.
Maculation—Spotting pattern.
Major histocompatibility complex (MHC)—A cell-surface protein molecule that
helps the vertebrate immune system recognize foreign substances and that is
encoded by a large gene family.
356 GLOSSARY
Polarized light—Light with oscillation of its wave form confined to a single plane
at a right angle to the direction of travel of the wave.
Polyandry—A form of social behavior in which a female has more than one mate;
females mate multiply, resulting in stronger sexual selection on females.
Polygyny—A form of social behavior in which males have more than one mate;
males mate multiply, resulting in stronger sexual selection on males.
Polyphenism—Multiple discrete forms arising from a single genotype as a result of
different environmental conditions.
Predation pressure—The extent to which predation affects a population of a prey
species.
Predator—An animal that preys upon other animals.
Premating reproductive isolation—The inability of different species to breed with
each other as a result of mechanisms that occur prior to mating.
Prey—An animal that is preyed upon by other animals.
Promiscuity—A form of social behavior in which a member of one sex mates with
more than one member of the other sex but the relationship is ephemeral and dis-
solves after mating.
Prosocial—Relating to behavior that is positive, helpful, and intended to promote
social acceptance and friendship.
Prosoma—The anterior portion of the body of spiders that lacks segmentation.
Proximate—The reason a behavior is performed in terms of its immediate trigger
or mechanisms that control its performance.
Quantitative trait loci (QTL) mapping—Identifying the locations of genes that
affect a quantitative trait.
Radiation—Diversification of a species or single ancestral type into several forms.
Radioactive isotope—An isotope (a form of a chemical element with the same
number of protons in the nucleus but a different of neutrons) that has an unstable
nucleus that emits radiation.
Recognition template—A pattern or memory used to guide the development of dis-
crimination among objects.
Repertoire match—A response targeted to a particular individual in which a
responder sings a song type in the target individual’s repertoire.
Representational—A signal that generates a mental representation of a specific
object in the mind of the listener.
Reproductive inhibition—Individuals being prevented from reproducing by more
dominant individuals.
Seismic communication—Communication through vibrations generated by percus-
sion on the substrate.
GLOSSARY 359
Semelparous—Waiting until near the end of the lifespan to reproduce and then
having little or no postreproductive lifespan.
Sensitive period—A portion of the lifespan during which an organism can respond
to exogenous stimuli that are needed for the development of a particular behavior.
Sensory bias—A preference for particular traits that did not evolve as a result of the
sexual selection caused by that preference.
Separation calls—Vocalizations given in response to being apart from one or more
members of a social group.
Sequencing—Identifying the arrangement of subunits (e.g., nucleotide residues or
amino acids) in a larger molecule (e.g., DNA or protein).
Sexual imprinting—A mating preference in adulthood that was learned through
experiences when very young.
Sexual selection—Differential reproductive success caused by competition for mates.
Siblicide—The killing of a sibling or siblings as a behavior pattern typical in various
animal groups.
Signal—A characteristic that has evolved by natural selection to convey information
to other organisms.
Sign stimulus—The stimulus that releases the stereotyped actions of animals.
Site fidelity—The degree to which an animal returns to a specific site.
Social facilitation—Improvement in the performance of a behavior when in the
presence of others.
Social learning—Facilitation of the acquisition of adaptive patterns of behavior by
observing the behavior of others.
Social network analysis—A set of mathematical and visual methods for exploring
complicated connections among entities.
Sociosexuality —An individual’s willingness to engage in sexual activity without
having emotional ties to the sex partner.
Song repertoire—The number of different song types produced by a single bird.
Song type—A distinct rendition of the species-typical song.
Sound spectrogram—A visual representation of sound in which the horizontal
dimension corresponds to time (reading from left to right) and the vertical dimen-
sion corresponds to frequency (or pitch), with higher sounds shown higher on the
display.
Spatial memory—Ability to discriminate between and remember specific and
different locations of objects in relation to each other, the observer, and the
environment.
Sun compass—Orientation using the position of the sun and the time of day.
Sympatric—Two species existing in the same geographic area and regularly encoun-
tering each another.
360 GLOSSARY
EDITOR
Editor KEN YASUKAWA is Mead Family Professor of Biology at Beloit Col-
lege and Honorary Fellow in Zoology at the University of Wisconsin at Mad-
ison. Using Niko Tinbergen as his model, he has studied the behavior and
ecology of birds and has focused primarily on the red-winged blackbird since
1973.
CONTRIBUTORS
ÇAĞLAR AKÇAY is a Postdoctoral Fellow at the Laboratory of Ornithology
at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York. He studies kin recognition and
vocal signaling in birds.