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Do other species experience a period of adolescence like us?

Book Wildhood explores the idea that penguins, hyenas, whales and wolves all experience a similar period of adolescence and what this could mean for all animals
A Spotted hyena (Crocuta crocuta) family, Botswana
A spotted hyena family in Botswana
Deon de Villiers/Getty Images

[book_info title=鈥漌ildhood: The epic journey from adolescence to adulthood in humans and other animals 鈥 author=鈥滲arbara Natterson-Horowitz and Kathryn Bowers鈥 publisher=鈥漇cribe鈥漖

A king penguin. A spotted hyena. A north Atlantic humpback whale. A European wolf. What could these four animals possibly have in common? Could they be experiencing the same life events? After all, all animals are born and all of them die. We are all hungry sometimes, for food or a mate.

How far can we push this idea of a common experience? For some years, Barbara Natterson-Horowitz, an evolutionary biologist at Harvard University, and Kathryn Bowers, an animal behaviourist and writer, have been looking for 鈥渉orizontal identities鈥 across species boundaries.

They borrowed the term from Andrew Solomon鈥檚 2012 book Far from the Tree, which contrasts vertical identities (between you, your parents and grandparents, say) with horizontal identities, which are 鈥渢hose among peers with whom you share similar attributes, but no family ties鈥. In their new book Wildhood, Natterson-Horowitz and Bowers have expanded Solomon鈥檚 concept to include other species. 鈥淲e suggest that adolescents share a horizontal identity,鈥 they write, 鈥渢emporary membership in a planet-wide tribe of adolescents.鈥

The heroes of Wildhood 鈥 Ursula the penguin, Shrink the hyena, Salt the whale and Slavc the wolf 鈥 are all, loosely speaking, 鈥渢eens鈥. Like teens everywhere, they have several mountains to climb at once. They must learn how to stay safe, how to navigate social hierarchies, how to communicate sexually and how to care for themselves. They need to become experienced, and for that they need to have experiences.

Well into the 1980s, researchers were discouraged from discussing the mental lives of animals. That changed largely thanks to the video camera. Suddenly it was possible for behavioural scientists to observe, not just closely, but repeatedly and in slow motion. Soon they were making discoveries that couldn鈥檛 possibly have been made with the naked eye.

An animal鈥檚 supposedly rote, mechanical behaviours turned out to be the product of learning, experiment and experience. Stereotyped calls and gestures were unpacked to reveal a kind of language, not in the human sense, but communication nonetheless, much of it of dizzying complexity. Animals that we thought were driven by instinct, turned out to be lively, engaged, conscious beings, scrabbling for purchase in a confusing and unpredictable world.

The four tales that make up the bulk of Wildhood are more than 鈥渏ust-so鈥 stories. 鈥淓very detail,鈥 the authors explain, 鈥渋s based on and validated by data from GPS satellite or radio collar studies, peer-reviewed scientific literature, published reports and interviews with the investigators involved.鈥

Natterson-Horowitz and Bowers are right to look for ways in which animals are like us鈥 after all, we share an evolutionary tree with them and a common environment, albeit one that each creature uses differently. And in Wildhood, the authors nail many similarities in a field that is becoming powerful and interesting 鈥 especially after all those years of dismissing behaviour that looked astonishingly like, well, ours.

But there are dangers of going too far. Despite solid evidence, with all those flavours of human-like behaviour identified in Wildhood, right now I baulk a little at using words like 鈥渁dolescence鈥 to create 鈥渉orizontal identities鈥 between humans and other animals. This is because, despite the similarities, the differences are still large, too. The danger of anthropomorphising the creatures around us is that we become less sensitive to the precise details of those differences.

That said, in the meantime we can at least recognise a little of ourselves in something the authors recount in the first couple of pages when we meet California sea otters, swimming up to sharks one moment then fleeing from a plastic boat the next. Which of us could help but recognise, in the animals鈥 overly bold and overly cautious behaviour, the gawkiness and tremor of their own adolescence?

Topics: animal behaviour