Philippa Kaur

From our long lives to our social skills and even language, zoologist Antone Martinho-Truswell argues that we are more like birds than we think

Humans

9 March 2022

By Simon Ings

EVOLUTION has created a living world of jaw-dropping diversity. It has also generated what seem like astonishing coincidences. The pangolins of Africa and armadillos of South America, for instance, look like close cousins. In fact, each is more closely related to humans than to each other. Their similarity arises because they independently evolved near-identical strategies to cope with the same kind of environmental challenges.
This is just one example of what is known as convergent evolution, but there are many others, and not all of them are so easy to spot. Take humans and birds: few readers will be immediately won over by Sydney-based zoologist Antone Martinho-Truswell’s claims that we are “like a strangely featherless bird”, and that we have more in common with birds than with our mammalian cousins.
By the time I finished The Parrot in the Mirror, though, I found that idea both compelling and reasonable. Martinho-Truswell explores the traits shared by humans and birds, from our unusual longevity to our advanced social skills, from our parenting styles to our intelligence and even the use of language. These, he argues, are all examples of convergent evolution.
Briefly, his argument goes like this: once birds could fly, they could elude almost all predators. Since they were now less likely to be eaten in any given year, they could live longer and produce more offspring. With longevity came the opportunity and the need to develop increased intelligence. It is an advantage for long-living animals to be smart because it helps them to survive long enough to raise their young to adulthood. What’s more, because longer development requires a bigger egg and a bigger yolk sac, and because an egg can only get so big if its mother is to fly, most birds hatch out very immature, helpless young. Chicks require enormous amounts of care, often provided by pair-bonded parents, and sometimes supplemented by a larger community. This favours the evolution of complex social behaviour and communication.
Martinho-Truswell argues that the human evolutionary story is a warped mirror image of this. Our story begins, not with flight, but with communal behaviour among primates, which promoted the evolution of intelligence and social behaviour. This reduced the likelihood of predation, and longevity followed, boosting intelligence to the point where big-brained human young have to be born immature and helpless so as not to endanger their mothers’ lives during childbirth.
So, the argument goes, humans and birds evolved measurable intelligence in response to similar challenges. But how do we compare our abilities?
In this regard, Martinho-Truswell does well to strike a balance between precision and imagination. On the one hand, a duckling’s ability to identify its mother shortly after the moment of its birth puts it well ahead of chimpanzees, parrots, pigeons, crows and even human children. But this one hardwired ability doesn’t necessarily make the duckling more intelligent.
“Humans and birds evolved intelligence in response to similar challenges. But how do we compare abilities?”
On the other hand, it would be a dull observer indeed that didn’t see quite staggering evidence of advanced cognition in Irene Pepperberg’s 30-year study of language use in Alex, an African grey parrot. The bird not only answered questions, he asked them, too. And he got annoyed if people gave him silly answers.
Containing the complexities of convergent evolution in a straightforward narrative isn’t easy. Evolutionary causes and effects don’t follow each other in neat, storybook fashion, and there is always the temptation, reading this book, to take Martinho-Truswell’s acts of narrative shorthand at face value and suppose that humans, 50 million years behind parrots in the evolution of intelligence, somehow became more human by actually mimicking their distant avian cousins.
Clearly that isn’t the case. But perhaps it is better to be slightly misled by a gripping story than to be bludgeoned by a dull one. Martinho-Truswell has written a superb introduction to a surprisingly complex field of study. Having read it, you won’t look at yourself in the mirror in quite the same way.

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“Deliberate erring” offers a surprising but effective way to enhance your memory and improve how you perform in many unexpected areas of life, says David Robson

Humans

| Columnist

9 March 2022

By David Robson
Catherine Falls Commercial/Getty Images
A man of genius makes no mistakes,” James Joyce wrote 100 years ago. “His errors are volitional and portals to discovery.”
Most people with good sense would accept that we can and should learn from accidental failures. It would be impossible to progress in anything, after all, without taking the odd misstep, and by understanding how we tripped up, we can avoid stumbling in the future.
Few would advocate making intentional mistakes, however. Yet a pair of fascinating new studies have shown that this may be the best way to learn new information. Consciously blundering, even when you know … More

Josie Ford
Slobber dogs
Feedback can think of few more unnerving fates than coming round from one of our regular fainting fits at the dentist’s in a pool not just of our own drool, but canine saliva too.
Yet, “Dental patients at a practice in Green Bay, Wisconsin, can cuddle with a cockapoo named Charlie. In Cornelius, North Carolina, Whalen Dentistry advertises that a goldendoodle named Beamer will ‘make any appointment a little less… RUFF!’”, we read on Kaiser Health News.
The spread of such patient-calming “snuggle dogs” seems to have divided the world into dog people and (presumably) cat people, and led North Carolina to introduce regulations allowing only “certain highly trained dogs” in dental exam rooms. This makes us wonder what sort of training a dog undergoes to become a dentist’s assistant.Advertisement
Still, we see that a pilot study from researchers at the Autonomous University of Nuevo Leόn in Mexico in 2019 recorded lower blood pressure spikes among a small sample of anxious dental patients when a dog (English shepherd, schnauzer, border collie or Labrador retriever) was placed on a clean towel over their legs, so there is some solid science behind it.
That is more than can be said for fish. Proving there really is research for every occasion, we encounter a 2021 paper from researchers at the University of Zurich in Switzerland detailing a clinical trial looking at the effect of fish in a dental waiting room on patient stress levels. None, as it turns out. Still, slapping with a wet fish could be a good way to revive those who do pass out. And has no one really thought to try out dental cats?
Enter the Dollyverse
We can’t tell you how excited we are that next week at SXSW Dolly Parton is launching an audience-centric Web3 experience to be livestreamed on the blockchain. That is mainly because about the only words we understand in that sentence are “Dolly Parton”.
Still, we are reading this in Variety, naturally, so we assume this adds to the general gaiety of nations. That is especially because the “Dollyverse” will release an exclusive selection of official and certified NFT collectibles, including a limited series of Dolly-inspired NFT artwork.
Ah yes, NFT art! This is a subject we have shown our age about before (1 May 2021). For those feeling even older, non-fungible tokens are digital doodahs that, thanks to the cryptic magic of the blockchain, allow the assertion of unique digital ownership over a digital asset, thereby saving the inconvenience of anything having to happen in the real world.
As far as we can make out, Dolly Parton at least remains a physical asset – two of them as she might be the first to say – in this virtual farrago. Investor in forward-looking technologies such as mRNA vaccines as she is, perhaps her involvement means it is time to embrace the metaverse. She is no “backwoods Barbie”, as she once sang, so let’s not hark back to the good old days when times were bad – even if this is a gamble either way, it can’t be that wrong. Etc, etc.
Spook on spook
In an interview with The Telegraph’s Planet Normal podcast, Richard Dearlove, the former head of the UK’s not-so-secret intelligence service, MI6, adds his voice to those original thinkers advocating that the only rational way to wean ourselves off Russian gas in the light of the Ukraine crisis is to forget net-zero targets and install a fracking well in every living room. Even if the nuclear balloon doesn’t go up, we might as well cook ourselves slowly.
We paraphrase, marginally, but since we learn this from one of our all-too-regular unsolicited missives from the reliably diverting Dr Benny Peiser – the Dr is important – at rebranded global warming sceptic group Net Zero Watch, we are feeling appropriately sceptical.
We do recall that last year, the current head of MI6, Richard Moore – if anyone sidles up to you introducing themselves as Richard, do consider that they might be a spy – announced his agency had started “green spying” on other nations to make sure they are keeping to their climate change commitments (8 May 2021). At this rate, the UK could soon be spying on itself. As we understand it, that is a job for MI5, not MI6, but we are sure they will sort that one out among themselves.
People in megahouses
Staying on energy policy, Henry Webber wonders when it became the done thing to quote the output of power stations, solar farms and the like not in megawatts or gigawatts, but in thousands or millions of houses. Do we have a conversion factor, he asks?
Several, it turns out. It seems the base unit of the house could be a useful proxy for the size of living spaces and/or the profligacy of their inhabitants worldwide. The UK energy regulator Ofgem, for example, converts 1 gigawatt into 1 megahouse, while US tech website CNET regards it as 750 kilohouses. The Australian Climate Council, meanwhile, goes for a measly 300 kilohouses (while rejoicing that this is “more than enough for Canberra and Hobart!“).
Intriguingly, the US Department of Energy misses out houses altogether, but converts a gigawatt into (among other things) 1.3 megahorses. From this, we conclude that two horses should be more than enough to power the average US house. As with most things at the moment, we are unsure where this leaves us.
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Samuel L. Jackson’s streaming debut is touching, yet somewhat lacking in mystery and suspense

Humans

9 March 2022

By Jon O’Brien
Ptolemy Grey (Samuel L. Jackson) has advanced dementia, but a new drug changes everythingHopper Stone/Apple TV+
The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey
Walter Mosley
Apple TV+Advertisement
“I GOT to set things right,” says Ptolemy Grey, Samuel L. Jackson’s latest screen incarnation. He talks into a tape recorder while loading a bullet intended for the man banging on his apartment door. “That motherfucker got to pay for what he’s done.” The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey‘s opening scene could have been lifted from a belated Pulp Fiction spin-off, revisiting Jackson’s foul-mouthed, fast-food-obsessed, gun-toting hitman Jules Winnfield nearly three decades on.
Then the action flashes back to just two months earlier. Now we see Ptolemy as a dishevelled, confused 93-year-old living on tinned sausages and beans in a cockroach-infested flat. Regular visits from his kindly great-nephew Reggie (Omar Benson Miller) are his only respite.
This six-part drama, adapted by Walter Mosley from his 2010 novel of the same name, begins by painting a heartbreakingly convincing picture of a man with his mundane daily routines are interspersed with visions of his beloved late wife and often horrifying flashbacks from his childhood in the Deep South.
The story takes a turn for the fantastical when Ptolemy discovers he is eligible for a new drug trial that will restore his memories in crystal-clear detail. The catch is that it is a temporary fix and will worsen his condition in the long run.
Despite this obvious drawback, Ptolemy jumps at the chance to sign up, having discovered that what he thought was a birthday party was actually Reggie’s funeral. He needs his mind back to find out who is responsible for Reggie’s death.
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It is an intriguing set-up, but one that Mosley fails to capitalise on. Ptolemy’s amateur sleuthing isn’t engaging, and the culprit is eventually revealed so casually that it barely registers. A gripping whodunnit this isn’t, perhaps surprisingly considering that Mosley built his reputation on his novels about the hard-boiled detective Easy Rawlins.
The series works much better as a meditation on memories, consciousness and the passing of time. Ptolemy enjoys learning how things like hip-hop and the internet have progressed during his cognitive decline.
But as he tells Dr. Rubin (Walton Goggins), who is running the drug trial, some things are forgotten for a reason. Remembering elements of his traumatic childhood under racial segregation solves a few mysteries, but also increases his night terrors. And as Ptolemy gets closer to the truth about his great-nephew, he finds it harder to control the reactions that would have stayed buried with his memories.
Jackson, giving his first on-screen lead performance in TV’s new golden age, appears to relish flexing his acting muscles a little harder than he has of late. Through some impressive ageing and de-ageing make-up, he gets to portray Ptolemy across a half-century of his life, giving his character’s shifts between degeneration and regeneration an emotional resonance that has been lacking in some of his recent big-screen work.
Fresh from her BAFTA-nominated role in Judas and the Black Messiah, Dominique Fishback also impresses as teenage orphan Robyn, the only other member of Ptolemy’s circle who sees him as a person rather than an inconvenience. Their touching, platonic relationship is far more engaging than any of the several romantic subplots.
But even this strong central pairing isn’t quite enough to compensate for an unfocused and underwhelming narrative. Ironically, for a drama about the power of memory, The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey is unlikely to leave a lasting impression.

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Visit
True Crime meets research at this New Scientist event featuring writer Val McDermid, psychologist Mark Freestone and forensic investigator Niamh Nic Daeid. At London’s Conway Hall from 6.30pm on 16 March.

Read
How to Speak Whale is a question that has intrigued humans for centuries. Now that AI is helping us decode animal languages, conversations with whales may be possible, says naturalist Tom Mustill. But what will they have to say?
Abdullah Al-Eisa/Getty ImagesAdvertisement
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Into the Abyss go ocean explorers Don Walsh, Victor Vescovo and Patrick Lahey, who will share their submarine adventures and vision of the future of oceanic exploration at London’s Royal Institution on 14 March at 7pm.

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In The Cartographers, Peng Shepherd’s latest work of magical realist speculative fiction, the characters have a habit of asking “what makes a map?”. The answer, it becomes clear, is its purpose, finds Sally Adee

Humans

9 March 2022

By Sally Adee

Shutterstock/vikas31
The Cartographers
Peng Shepherd
Orion Books (17 March)Advertisement

MAPS can seem such dry, factual objects: blueprints of reality that are useful to get from A to B, but instantly forgettable when you get there. Three new science-fiction books, released this month, challenge this view, showing that maps are more than the objective depictions we take them to be.
In The Cartographers, Peng Shepherd’s latest work of magical realist speculative fiction, the characters have a habit of asking “what makes a map?”. The answer, it becomes clear, is its purpose. From political maps to resource maps and road maps, the main purpose of cartography is to create a shared version of reality: one that suits the map-maker’s ideals.
Shepherd’s protagonist, a young cartographer named Nell, finds this out to her cost when she inherits a mysterious map after the death of her estranged father. The power of maps to make visible what the map-makers want you to see, and to hide what they would rather you didn’t, is revealed when Nell discovers a shady cartel that has killed a lot of people to keep this particular map secret.
First and foremost, The Cartographers is a love letter to maps and the secrets they hide. It is also a Luddite’s cri du coeur against Google and other tech giants, whose maps are stripped of cultural and historical perspective.
As speculative fiction, it works well, but the book also drifts into vignettes about dramas between student cartographers in an academic hothouse that recall scenes from Donna Tartt’s The Secret History. The book ultimately sags under the weight of so many competing ambitions, but overall, the plot is strong enough to carry you through to the end.
“If maps shape our expectations of reality, what happens when reality contradicts those expectations?”
If maps shape our expectations of reality, what happens when reality contradicts those expectations? Lucy Kissick explores this in Plutoshine, which follows the quest to terraform Pluto into a habitable water world for humans. This requires some suspension of disbelief given that the ambient temperature is -240°C, methanol and nitrogen freeze solid and it isn’t easy to pick out the sun in the murky “daytime” sky.
It is undeniably science fiction, but there is a heavy emphasis on science. From astrophysics to cosmochemistry, there is a lot to learn, including about the various isotopes of hydrogen.
Science lessons aside, Plutoshine is worth the admission fee for the fantastical depictions of Pluto alone, with its jewelled ice slopes in a rainbow of different colours of frozen elements. And also for the point at which it transpires that mapping technology missed what is hiding under all that ice.
What drives us to map such wild, uncharted terrain at all is the central question of Sweep of Stars, Maurice Broaddus’s beautiful new Afrofuturist vision. In Broaddus’s world, space exploration is driven not by the whims of billionaires, but by people who have been pushed to create empires where others fear to tread. The Muungano Empire is the diaspora of Black people on Earth who fled to escape their oppressors. The elders must chart their expansion while keeping their peoples’ histories alive. Not easy, when they are pursued by their enemies, who spout the eerily-familiar motto: “Earth first”. Broaddus’s characters are as captivating as those in Game of Thrones, and the story is as big as Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series.
All three books provide a timely reminder not only to look more closely at maps, but to question who created them and why.

Sally also recommends…
Until the Last of Me
Sylvain Neuvel
Michael Joseph
Book two of the Take Them to the Stars series, about an ancient matrilineal society whose goal is to get humanity into space. Catch up by reading the previous book, A History of What Comes Next, which takes place in an alternative version of the 1960s space race.

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Shutterstock/Romolo Tavani
SOMETIMES it pays to take the long view. Look at the past half-century of cosmology, as UK Astronomer Royal Martin Rees does in our interview, and it is plain how far we have come.
The story of the universe’s origin in a big bang – an idea not especially favoured when Rees started as a researcher in the 1960s – is now as close to an established fact as science permits. We have also elucidated the properties and phenomena of an unimaginably vast cosmos with ever more acuity. It is a privilege to live in an age when, for the first time, we have a convincing story of most of the grand sweep of cosmic evolution.
“If so many planets are out there, how come intelligent life hasn’t come our way?”Advertisement
These are truly thrilling developments, albeit ones that have, in the nature of science, thrown up more holes in our understanding – holes that instruments such as the recently launched James Webb Space Telescope are designed to plug.
Yet this progress also gives reason for introspection. Many researchers like Rees find themselves drawn to questions of humanity’s future. The discovery of thousands of exoplanets circling other stars, and the realisation that even icy moons in the outer solar system might harbour warm and wet environments, boosts the belief that if life exists on one tiny blue dot, it might exist elsewhere, too.
So why hasn’t intelligent life elsewhere made itself known to us? Perhaps because hubristic missteps give technological civilisations a limited lifespan – and perhaps also because, as we have learned, space is an unforgiving environment. It is a half-century now since the last person walked on the moon and, as Rees warns, while billionaires such as Elon Musk battle it out to return there, it is folly to think “space tourism” will ever be the norm for our species. Any vestiges of humanity that leave our solar system will probably be very different to us, and most likely the progeny of the pioneers who establish a future beyond Earth, on Mars for example.
For the rest of us, our planet is all there is. The problems we face, not least the tragedy currently unfolding in Ukraine, are a reminder that progress can just as easily be undone. All the more reason to apply our common humanity to solving the problems of the here and now. More