Dogs name toys while elephants name each other. Animal language is more complex than we imagine | Helene Pilcher

Another day, another cute story about how dogs can pick up elements of human language and use them to communicate with us.

First, there was Mr Waffles, the Yorkshire terrier who “talks” to his owners by pressing electronic buttons pre-programmed with words and phrases. In one of his videos, viewed more than half a million times, the little dog looks defiantly at the camera and responds to an empty treat packet by pressing the “I don’t care” button. Followed by the “bitch” button. Bad dog, Mr. Waffles.

Then, last month, researchers reported that some dogs could mentally categorize their toys based on their use. “Fetch toys” can be distinguished from “tug of war toys” and retrieved appropriately.

I am a dog owner. I fully admit to being one of a third of Brits who would rather talk to their pets than people. At first glance, the study seems to confirm what I already knew: that my dog ​​understands everything That’s what I’m saying – but while interactions like this tell us something about dogs’ intelligence, they barely scratch the surface of their communication abilities.

In recent years, many parallels have been drawn between animal communication and human language. We learned, for example, that some animals have names that they use for each other. Elephants use particular vocalizations – low-frequency sounds rich in harmonics – to address key members of their group. “Hey, Dave, over here!”

During their first months of life, bottlenose dolphins invent their own “signature whistle,” which later becomes the name others use to call them. During this same period, mother dolphins communicate with their young using “motherese”. Just like human moms, they adjust the frequency and pitch of the sounds they make to create a singing tone that’s meant to facilitate bonding.

Meanwhile, songbirds have different regional dialects, which means the sparrows near me sing with the avian equivalent of a Birmingham accent: “All right, baby! And sperm whales, which use “names” and Accents have recently been shown to have their own phonetic alphabet. Gentle giants communicate with click patterns. By changing their rhythm, tempo, duration and number, simple sound units can be combined to generate complexity. According to scientists who discovered the phenomenon, it’s similar to how humans combine sounds to form words.

Every time these stories break, they are surprised. “Aren’t animals smart?! Who would have thought it?!” But none of this should come as a surprise. All of these animals lead deeply complex, rich and social lives. Sperm whales, for example, live in close-knit groups led by females, who sometimes come together to form larger groups called “vocal clans.” They hunt together, care for each other, and work together to hunt predatory orcas. Of course, they have complex communication. They need it to survive.

The mistake, however, is to assume – a priori – that animal communication is in any way like ours. Too often we try to fit animal communication into a human-centered framework, but it’s like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. We will never solve the puzzle, because there will always be a fundamental disconnect.

Just as a cuttlefish would not understand the subtlety of human sarcasm, it is unlikely that humans will ever understand the full spectrum of communication between cuttlefish. When they dynamically change the patterns and color of their skin, it’s fascinating, but alien. Different animals communicate in different ways. Of course they use sound, but they also use color, smell, electricity, vibration and the medium of dance. There is an abundance of animal communication that we miss because we do not have the sense organs or humility to detect it.

Human language – with its names, words, syntax and grammar – is just one solution that a species has developed to help it meet the challenges it faces. Non-human animals live different lives with different struggles. If we truly want to understand what animals “say,” we need to understand their communication on their terms, not ours.

Jane Goodall, who died last week aged 91, realized this when she spent time with the chimpanzees in Tanzania’s Gombe National Park. Through careful observation, she discovered a wealth of complexity previously unknown, including the discovery that chimpanzees communicate using body language as well as sound.

Contemporary ethologists have relied on this. Work by Cat Hobaiter of the University of St Andrews shows that chimpanzees have a rich repertoire of gestures that they use to communicate in close-ups. They have no “words”, but they have flexible articulated signals that make sense. So when a chimpanzee emits a loud, long, slow scratch, it may means “groom me”, but it can also mean “let’s travel”. And even if they don’t have specific gestures or calls for different types of food, like figs or seeds, they may not need them. What humans and chimpanzees consider useful information is different.

So instead of marveling at dogs’ ability to press word buttons, instead take the time to marvel at how dogs communicate with dogs. When my dog ​​sees his best friend, for a brief moment, his arthritic limbs become happy and cheerful. There are play bows, tail wags and butt sniffs. It may not be a Shakespearean sonnet, but it is expressive and beautiful in its own right.

• Helen Pilcher is a science writer and the author of Bring Back the King: The New Science of De-Extinction. To support the Guardian, order your copy from Guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply