Thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes after Tahlequah had given birth, the emaciated calf of the 20-year-old orca died. The mother refused to give up her dead calf, carrying her in the water in what scientists referred to as the “tour of grief”, until 17 painful days were over. The story of Tahlequah’s loss was a heartbreaking ordeal that moved many while adding to the mounting evidence suggesting the animal capacity to grieve.
Scientists have observed signs of animal grief since the 19th century, which include failing to eat and sleep, social withdrawal, eliciting signs of emotional distress, rocking back and forth and so on. Dr. Barbara King, author of How Animals Grieve, explains that an animal can be observed as grieving “If a surviving animal who had a close relationship to the newly deceased becomes socially withdrawn, failing to eat and sleep and travel in routine ways, and shows species-specific evidence of emotion – then we can see widespread evidence of an emotional response to death in animals.” An ever-increasing number of observations propels the argument further: Gana, the gorilla who cradled and protected her dead baby, as though he were still alive; Flint, the 8-year-old chimpanzee who ceased eating and socializing after the death of the matriarch which was eventually followed by his own. While there is substantial evidence from primates, scientists have noted responses to death in seals, manatees, dogs, and more.
Mere anecdotal evidence, however, does not present itself as convincing to some scientists. By labelling animals as “grieving”, they argue that these interpretations have been made with a touch of anthropomorphism. Anthropomorphism is the “mapping of human capacities or qualities onto nonhuman animals”, explains Dr. King. It illustrates a core difficulty in studying animal sentience–as humans, we cannot truly understand nonhuman animals from their perspectives, a sentiment echoed by biologist Giovanni Bearzi.
Thus, behavioural ecologist Anne Engh and her team strived to explore animal grief through gathering quantitative evidence. In 2003, Engh led a 16-month study on chacma baboons in the Okavango Delta of Botswana. Her team collected and analyzed fecal samples from both female baboons who had lost a close relative and unaffected females, examining their hormonal levels. In humans, bereavement is associated with an increase in glucocorticoid (GC) levels, and a similar effect was seen in baboons experiencing loss.
Following a relative’s death, her team reported a “significant increase in grooming diversity”. The baboons groomed more frequently with more partners, unsurprisingly, as physical contact releases a hormone that inhibits GC release: oxytocin. A parallel can be drawn to humans as our increase in GC levels can be lessened by social support.
With growing evidence, it is becoming increasingly clear that animals experience grief. This inevitably raises another question, one that is immensely more difficult to answer – is nonhuman animal grief equivalent to human grief?
As the riveting quest of finding the answer continues to intrigue scientists, their gain in insight carries immeasurable implications. It holds the powerful potential to challenge the global state of animal welfare and rights. It could be the turning point in society recognizing animals as sentient beings, opening up a multitude of ethical discussions regarding animal captivity, entertainment, agriculture and more. It could ultimately form a tighter bond between humans and animals, allowing us to comprehend nature in more depth.
“We humans don’t own love or grief,” Dr. King says, “these emotions are widespread in other animals.”
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