(This first segment has been taken from Carl Sagan and Ann Druyan's Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors while the second segment has been taken from Richard Leakey's book Origins Reconsidered.)

Chimpanzee Tool Use

(Pages 391-399)

Although many chimps literally do not know enough to come in out of the rain, they're able to use tools. Not only that: they're able to premeditate the use of tools-to acquire a tool now for some action they intend to perform later. They go large distances to find the right kind of stone or stick, and then lug it home. They seem to have had its ultimate use in mind all the while.

"It has often been said," wrote Darwin in The Descent of Man, "that an animal uses any tool; but the chimpanzee in a state of nature cracks native fruit, somewhat like a walnut, with a stone." His source was that acute but easily offended Victorian observer of chimps, Thomas Savage, M.D. Chimpanzees regularly crack open hard-shell seeds and nuts with a stone hammer against a stone or wooden anvil; and they'll carry the appropriate rocks over a good fraction of a kilometer for the purpose. At other times, wooden clubs may be used as nutcrackers. In the Tai Forest in the Ivory Coast, chimps select an appropriate club, climb a cola tree, pick the choice cola nuts, and crack them open using the branch as the anvil and the club as the hammer. Female chimps are more likely to employ hammer-and-anvil technology than males, and they're better at it. {Similar examples occur in other species. The playful and intelligent sea otter regularly dives to the ocean floor, retrieves hard-shelled mussels and an appropriate stone, swims to the surface, floats on its back, and then cracks open the mussels using the tone as an anvil. Some birds drop bivalves on rocks to crack them open. Egyptian vultures and black-breasted buzzards drop stones from altitude on the large eggs of emus and ostriches in order to dine on the contents. In an apocryphal story, the ancient Greek playwright Aeschylus is said to have been killed when a vulture (or eagle)cropped a heavy stone (or a turtle . . . accounts differ) on his bald head, which it perhaps mistook for the egg of a flightless bird.}

A chimp breaks off a long grass stalk or a reed so she may use it later, hundreds of meters away, more than an hour in the future, to lure delectable termites out of a log or termite mound. She must remove superfluous leaves and twigs, shape it, shorten it, insert it into the termite tunnel with a deft twisting motion to follow the interior contours, shake it seductively to attract termites onto it, and then with great care remove it without scraping off too many. Chimps take years to perfect their technique and routinely teach it to their young, who are avid pupils. This exactly satisfies one confident definition of "the uniqueness of man's toolmaking"-namely, "the fashioning, out of natural materials, of an implement designed to be used at a distant time and on objects not now perceptually present."

How difficult is chimpanzee termite fishing? What depth of intellect and manual dexterity are required? Suppose you are dropped naked into the Gombe Preserve in Tanzania and, like it or not, discover that termites are your principal hedge against malnutrition or starvation. You know they're an excellent source of protein; you know that self-respecting humans in many parts of the world regularly eat them. You manage to put aside whatever compunctions you may feel. But catching them one at a time is not going to be worth the effort. Unless you're lucky enough to encounter them when they're swarming, you're going to have to make a tool, repeatedly insert it into their meter-high mound, introduce the tool into your mouth, and strip off the clinging termites with your teeth and lips as you withdraw the tool from your mouth. Could you do as well as a chimp?

The anthropologist Geza Teleki tried to find out. He spent months in Gombe under the tutelage of a chimp named Leakey, who was adept at the technique. Teleki wrote about his findings in a famous scientific paper called "Chimpanzee Subsistence Technology.'' The Gombe termites mainly come out at night; before dawn they expertly wall up all the entrances to their mounds. Chimps routinely begin their termite foraging by scraping away these entrance barriers. Teleki's inquiry started there:

Having repeatedly observed [chimpanzee] individuals approach a mound, make a rapid visual scan of the surface while standing on or beside it, and reach decisively out-with a high degree of predictive accuracy-to uncover a tunnel, I was soon impressed by the apparent ease with which tunnels could be located. In attempting to learn the technique, I applied several experimental procedures: examining in minute detail all crack patterns, protuberances, depressions and other "topographic" features in the clay. But, after weeks of futile searching for the essential clue, I had to resort to scraping mound surfaces with a jackknife until a tunnel was inadvertently exposed. My inability to find any physical features which could serve as visual clues eventually led me to realize that chimpanzees may possess knowledge far beyond my expectations.. . .

The only hypothesis which, at this point, seems to reasonably account for the observed facts is that an adult chimpanzee may know (memorize?) the precise location of two or more tunnels in the most familiar mounds. Moreover, since intensive probing is restricted to a short annual season, the possibility that chimpanzees retain a mental map of core mound features during the intervening months must also be considered. That chimpanzees require a prolonged learning period (i.e. 4-5 years) to gain proficiency in this technique . . ., and that some individuals are known to have the capability to retain specific information for many years, provides circumstantial support for this hypothesis.

Next, Teleki looked into a selection of raw materials for the manufacture of the termite probe:

When performed by experienced chimpanzees, the selection procedure seems deceptively simple. After a brief visual scan of the nearby vegetation, a chimpanzee will usually extend a hand and deftly tear off a twig, vine or grass stalk. Sometimes the individual must move a few paces away from the mound and fetch a suitable probe, and in some cases 2-3 objects are initially selected. These may be rapidly examined and discarded until some specification is met in one, or several may be carried to the mound for subsequent selection. Whenever it occurs, the selection is made in a swift, almost casual manner, and modification is begun if necessary. Without being aware of the nuances involved, it is easy to undervalue the proficiency needed to perform these maneuvers.

Chimpanzees presumably have the experience whereby the properties of an object can be evaluated before it is applied to the task of probing, for the rate of error in selecting probes is not high. . . When probing for termites, the specifications are in fact surprisingly stringent: if the vine or grass selected is too pliant, it will buckle and collapse (accordion-like when inserted into a twisted tunnel; if, on the other hand, the object is too stiff or brittle, it will catch on the tunnel walls and either break or resist entry to the necessary depth....

Despite months of observing and aping adult chimpanzees as they selected probes with enviable ease, speed and accuracy, I was unable to achieve their level of competence. Similar ineptness can only be observed in chimpanzees below the age of about 4-5 years.

Finally, putting aside the difficulties in finding the tunnel entrances and manufacturing the tools, Teleki set himself to learning how to use a competently produced tool:

I spent many hours inserting probes, pausing for the designated interval, and pulling them out again-without getting any termites. Only after some weeks of nearly total failure . . . did I finally begin to grasp the problems involved . . .In order to collect these subterranean termites, the probing object must first be carefully and dexterously inserted to a depth of about 8-16 cm [centimeters], with appropriate turns of the wrist so that the object navigates the twisting channel. The probe must then be gently vibrated with the fingers during the prescribed pause, for without this movement the termites may not be stimulated into biting firmly onto the probe. However, if the vibration is performed too lengthily or roughly, there is an excellent chance that the probe will be cut through by the [termites'] mandibles while still in the tunnel. When these preliminary actions have been correctly performed, the probe, presumably with dozens of termites now attached, must be extracted from the tunnel. Once again there are nuances to be observed. If the object is too rapidly or clumsily pulled out, the insects are likely to be scraped off along the sides of the tunnel, which then yields nothing but a shredded probe. The hand motions must be reasonably but not overly swift and, once started, uniformly fluid and graceful. If the tunnel is particularly tortuous (a feature which can be determined during insertion of the probe), the success of the catch can be ensured by a slow twisting of the wrist while the probe is pulled out.

It is a little daunting to discover-on the very technological grounds on which human superiority is often claimed-that after months of apprenticeship, human scientists cannot do as well as preadolescent chimps. Teleki remained generous and good-natured about his failure. In the acknowledgments at the end of the paper, among thanks to various organizations for financial and logistical support, there appears this sentence: "I am, in addition, more than grateful to the patient and tolerant Leakey, whose termite-collecting skills so out-stripped mine."

The chimp style of teaching nut cracking and termite fishing to the young is relaxed-by example and not by rote. The student fiddles with the tools and tries out various approaches, rather than slavishly copying every hand movement of the instructor. Gradually the technique improves. Chimps have for this reason been criticized as not really having culture. (Ironically, one group of scientists denies chimps language because-as we described earlier-they are said to be too imitative, while another group of scientists denies chimps culture because they are said to be not imitative enough.)

The learning style of the great physicist Enrico Fermi was to ask colleagues to state the problems they had recently solved, but to withhold their answers: He could understand the problem only by working it through himself. Learning by doing is-in science and technology, as in many other human activities-much more effective than learning by rote. Knowing, as the chimps do, that a problem exists and can be solved with the tools at hand is most of the battle.

Baboons in Gombe eat termites, but almost entirely during the two or three-week period in which the insects migrate. Then the baboons can be seen gathering and slurping the insects, and leaping into the air to catch them on the wing. In less bountiful times, baboons will be shooed away from a termite mound by an arriving group of chimpanzees. Sometimes the displaced baboons sit a little distance away, morosely observing the chimps working away with their tools on the mound. When the chimps are done, they leave their modified stalks and reeds at the base of the mound. But no baboon has ever been observed trying to use an abandoned tool-even though it could extend their termite season from weeks to months. Apparently the baboons just don't have it in them. They're not smart enough. Probably their brains are too small.

As chimps are much better than baboons at collecting termites, so some pre industrial humans who routinely eat termites are much better than chimps. They dig open the termite mounds, or fumigate them, or flood them with water. One of the more elegant practices is -with the tongue on the palate, or two pieces of wood gently touched to the mound's surface- to imitate the sound of raindrops, which entices the termites out of their nest. Chimps have never been observed to use these techniques. Probably they're not smart enough. Probably their brains are too small.

What we find most interesting is the overlap. Some chimps lack even probe technology, and are no better at catching termites than baboons are. Other chimps are armed with a well-developed if rudimentary technology, many steps having to be done correctly and in the right sequence for the method to work-as good as many human cultures, although nowhere near as good as some. There are human cultures barely up to the highest chimpanzee standards of termite catching, and others only on a par with the baboons. No sharp boundaries are apparent here separating baboons from chimps, or chimps from humans.

Chimps also drop branches on intruders and sop up drinking water with leaves. While they cannot be described as fastidious or obsessively hygienic, chimps are known to use leaves as toilet paper and handkerchiefs, and twigs as toothbrushes. They employ sticks for digging up roots, for investigating animals in burrows and knotholes, and -like a croupier at a gaming table-for raking in otherwise inaccessible fruit. If they were able to manufacture more complex tools, they certainly would have the intelligence and dexterity to use them: In zoos, chimps try to steal the keys from the keeper's pocket. When successful, they often manage to open the lock. Like us, they can sometimes use their intelligence to escape from bondage.

Male chimps like to throw missiles-whatever is handy, generally sticks and stones. (Like the inmates of college fraternity houses, they also occasionally throw food.) Females are much less interested in missiles. Chimps would throw stones at the visitors who gawk at them in the traditional kind of zoo-if they had stones. As it is, all they have is feces. When wild chimps are presented with a fairly realistic mechanical leopard, after a reassurance frenzy of screams, hugs, and mutual mountings, they find appropriate clubs and beat the effigy to death-or at least until they knock the stuffing out. Or they'll pelt it with stones. (In the same circumstance, baboons will furiously attack the leopard, but without a thought of using clubs. Baboons just don't know about tools.)

Chimps have stunned or killed by throwing stones. The directionality of their throwing is good. Where they're deficient is in range: In tense confrontations with prey or hostile peers, thrown rocks hit their targets only a few percent of the time. Adolescent boys don't do much better under comparable conditions. But even when inaccurate, a hail of stones can be off-putting.

A distinction needs to be made between tool using and tool making. Many scientists have conceded tool use to other animals, and, following Benjamin Franklin, defined humans as the sole toolmaking animal; where tools are manufactured, it is suggested, language cannot be far behind. But the chimpanzee termite fishery industry makes it clear that chimps, with considerable forethought, both make and use tools. Chimps also have a rudimentary stone technology, although, as far as we know, they don't manufacture stone tools in the wild. In captivity, though, Kanzi-the linguistically talented bonobo-has, imitating human models, hit stones together to produce sharp flakes, which he then uses to cut a string so he can open a box which is filled with food. (This is a causality sequence at least five steps long.) As long as it's sharp enough to cut the string, Kanzi will generally settle for the first crude stone knife he flakes off. But the thicker the rope he must cut, the larger and sharper the knife he makes.

Evidence of chimpanzee talent to combine objects purposefully to make tools has actually been with us for decades:

Between 1913 and 1917, Wolfgang Kohler conducted observations and experiments on the intelligence of chimpanzees at a field station in North Africa. In one study a male chimpanzee, Sultan, was led into a room where a banana had been tied to a string and suspended from the ceiling in a corner. A large wooden box had also been placed in the center of the room, open side up. Sultan first tried to reach the fruit by jumping, but this quickly proved futile. He then "paced restlessly Up and down, suddenly stood still in front of the box, seized it, tipped it . . . straight towards the objective . . . began to climb up it . . . and springing upwards with all his force, tore down the banana." A few days later Sultan was taken into a room with a much higher ceiling, where again there was a suspended banana, as well as a wooden box and a stick. After failing to get the banana with the stick alone, Sultan sat down "with an air of fatigue . . . gazed about him, and scratched his head." He then stared at the boxes, suddenly leaped up, seized a box and a stick, pushed the box underneath the banana, reached up with the stick and knocked the fruit down. Kohler was struck with the apparently thoughtful period that preceded Sultan's solution, as well as with his sudden and directed performance. Such "insightful" behavior apparently contrasted with other forms of learning, which develop gradually and depend on reinforcement.

It's not hard to imagine an especially insightful chimp or bonobo wondering if there weren't some way to make a stone flake cut better or a projectile go farther.

Since the progress of human technology is a continuum, to pick a particular milestone-the domestication of fire, say, or the invention of the bow and arrow, agriculture, canals, metallurgy, cities, books, steam, electricity, nuclear weapons, or spaceflight-as the criterion of our humanity would be not just arbitrary, but would exclude from humanity every one of our ancestors who lived before the selected invention or discovery was made. There is no particular technology that makes us human; at best it could only be technology in general, or a propensity for technology. But that we share with others.

Like us, nonhuman primates are not all the same. They vary in focus from individual to individual and group to group. Some, like Imo, are technological geniuses. Others, like the hierarchy-besotted macaque males, are hopelessly old-fashioned and stuck in their ways. One chimp population pounds nuts, another does not. Some probe for termites, others only for ants. Some use grass stalks and vines to coax the insects out, others sticks and twigs. Females preferentially use hammers and anvils, males preferentially throw stones. None of them, so far as we know, has ever used a stick to dig out a nutritious root or tuber, although it ought to be possible and adaptive. Some individuals find technology uncongenial or intellectually too taxing and never use it, despite the obvious advantages accruing to other members of their group who are comfortable with technology. Some large groups have no technology at all. "I'm embarrassed to say," says an observer of a community of Ugandan chimps, "that the Kibale chimpanzees appear as the country bumpkins of the chimp world." He goes on to speculate that life is too easy and food too plentiful at Kibale for the challenge of deprivation to elicit the response of technology...


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