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It’s Time to Celebrate Animal Sentience and Stop Squabbling

Science and common sense clearly show that diverse animals are feeling beings

The Kind Life Reprinted from Psychology Today with permission by article author, Marc Bekoff *

Key points

  • Animal sentience isn’t science fiction.
  • The real question is not if sentience has evolved but why.
  • Several countries have declared that animals, including household companions and wild species, are sentient.
  • There aren’t degrees of sentience among different species; an individual’s joy or pain are their joy or pain.
Source: public domain pictures on Pexel

Being sentient means having the ability to feel. A large body of scientific evidence stemming from studies of diverse species clearly shows that many nonhuman animals (animals) are sentient beings.1 These studies also show that the biodiversity of sentience is large and growing, and insects are finding themselves living well within the sentience arena as full members of the sentience club. Research shows that the emotional lives of insects are richer than many of us have ever imagined—not just in the ever-popular bees, but also in flies, mosquitoes, cockroaches, and termites too. (Darwin himself thought this! In 1872, he wrote that insects “express anger, terror, jealousy, and love.”)2

A growing number of people, including academics and non-academics, are very interested in what animals think and feel. Two recent posts—”The Eclectic Father of Cognitive Ethology“ about Donald Griffin’s seminal work and an interview with Jonathan Birch titled “The Edge of Sentience: Why Drawing Lines Is So Difficult“—have generated a good number of emails asking me to say more about the study of animal minds (the field called cognitive ethology) and animal sentience.

It’s Time to Stop Wondering If Animals Are Sentient, They Are

Source: By Marc Bekoff

These handwritten words were sent to me by Jane Goodall in 2000 after she attended a wildlife management meeting in Arusha, Tanzania. What caught my eye about her message was how she capitalized the word “feelings.” This was some years before the field of compassionate conservation emerged and began growing in leaps and bounds. In compassionate conservation, the life of every individual is valued, and sentience—their ability to feel—comes to the fore.

Studying animal sentience, consciousness, and emotion isn’t easy. Future data from comparative analyses of animal cognition, along with existing information, should help us along in developing what some people think the field of cognitive ethology needs: namely, an integrative model or theory. Perhaps it was the lack of an integrative theory of cognitive ethology and the presence of one in evolutionary biology that led many people to dismiss tenuous cognitive ethological explanations while accepting often equally tenuous evolutionary stories.

I became very interested in learning more about some of the progress made in cognitive ethology during the past two decades, so I analyzed the references in the 2007 edition of my book on animal emotions and in the highly revised and updated 2024 edition of The Emotional Lives of Animals: A Leading Scientist Explores Animal Joy, Sorrow, and Empathy―and Why They Matter, for which I used around 300 additional references. I noted a strong increasing trend that more researchers are accepting data that clearly showed that many different animals have rich and deep emotional lives and are sentient. Furthermore, not a single reference among those I added to the new edition led to the conclusion that we are doing all we can for the animals. We can always do more.

The Real Question Is Not If Sentience Has Evolved, but Why

I know some people will respond with something like, “We really don’t know whether pigs don’t like their tails being cut off or being castrated,” or “We need more data to know that animals get bored or enjoy play.” However, it’s high time to recognize that this sort of skepticism is unwarranted and responsible for widespread and continued abuse, given the evidential database we now have. Furthermore, there are no degrees of sentience among different species; an individual’s joy and pain are their joy and pain.

Let’s Stop Bickering

We must stop pretending that we don’t know this or that about animal sentience. We need more action. While we persist in pondering the obvious, ignoring what we already know and have long known, countless nonhuman victims continue to be abused by humankind, every minute of every day, planet-wide.

There are no substitutes for rigorous research and detailed analyses of subtle behavior patterns that often go unnoticed. What we think about the nature of all sorts of animal minds truly matters for their welfare, and so it should matter to us.

People interested in cognitive ethology shouldn’t have axes to grind. Interdisciplinary input is necessary for us to gain a broad view of animal cognition. Regarding animal minds, when philosophers share what they think, they need to be clear. Those who study animal behavior need to share with philosophers and others about what they have learned and the progress being made.

The general public is closely following what science says about animal minds, and we must give them the latest and most reliable information available. We also need to listen to their stories because citizen science can guide research and inform how we interpret and explain the inner lives of other animals.

It’s anti-science to claim that nonhumans aren’t sentient. It’s not anti-science to say we must use what we know on behalf of other animals and must stop pretending we need more data. The list of the continuing mistreatment of animals in places where they have been formally recognized as sentient beings and elsewhere in the world goes on and on.

Declaring nonhumans to be sentient beings is surely most welcome, but for now, it’s often more of a “feel-good” move, another instance of humane-washing. Future human generations will surely look back and wonder how we could have continued failing to use the science, history, and politics of sentience to protect sentient nonhumans.

An essay titled “Animal sentience: history, science, and politics“ by Andrew Rowan and his colleagues is an excellent state-of-the-art summary of what we know and don’t know about animal sentience.

Rowan and his co-authors noted:

So far, however, there has been little evidence that the various declarations that animals are sentient in other countries and regions have had much direct impact on animal protection legislation or how animals are actually being treated.

Nevertheless, it is very unlikely that incorporating animal sentience language in legislation would be harmful to the interests of animals in any way.

We can, and we must do better. Solid science, evolutionary biology, comparative psychology, and a dose of common sense can lead the way. Surely, it’s time to stop wondering if other animals are sentient—they clearly are.

*Marc Bekoff is professor emeritus of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology at the University of Colorado, Boulder. He has published more than 30 books including The Emotional Lives of Animals and has won many awards for his research and writing. His homepage is marcbekoff.com

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References

1) Why Animal Sentience Must Be Used to Reform Constitutions; It’s Time To Stop Wondering if Animals Are Sentient—They Are; The Emotional Lives of Dogs and Wolves and Why They Matter; The Lives of Sea Turtles and Why They Matter; The Emotional Lives of Animals and Why They Matter; The Fascinating Complex Minds of Bees and Why They Matter; Animal Emotions, Animal Sentience, and Why They Matter; Mindful Anthropomorphism Works, So Let’s Stop the Bickering; The State of Animal Consciousness, Sentience, and Emotions; Liv Baker et al. Rethinking Animal Consciousness Research to Prioritize Well-Being, Cambridge Corp, October 28, 2024. Also see: Granting Rights to Animals Doesn’t Undermine Human Rights.

2) A recent and detailed review of the evidence by Matilda Gibbons and her colleagues titled “Can insects feel pain? A review of the neural and behavioural evidence“ makes it plausible that various insects are indeed sentient and feel pain.

Balcombe, Jonathan 2007. Pleasurable Kingdom: Animals and the Nature of Feeling Good. St. Martin’s Griffin.

Batavia, Chelsea et al. 2021. Emotion as a source of moral understanding in conservation. Conservation Biology.

Bekoff, Marc. The Emotional Lives of Animals: A Leading Scientist Explores Animal Joy, Sorrow, and Empathy―and Why They Matter. New World Library, 2024.

_____. 2010, The Animal Manifesto. New World Library.

_____. Spain Joins Other Nations in Declaring Animals Are Sentient.

_____. Animal Emotions, Animal Sentience, and Why They Matter.

_____. Sentient: How Animals Illuminate the Wonder of Our Senses.

Jessica Pierce and Marc Bekoff. The Animals’ Agenda: Freedom, Compassion, and Coexistence in the Human Age. Beacon Books, 2017.

Wallach, A. D., Bekoff, M., Batavia, C., Nelson, M. P., & Ramp, D. 2018. Summoning compassion to address the challenges of conservation. Conservation Biology.

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Elephant Mourning

Elephants gently touch the bones of their dead and carry stillborn calves for days. A glimpse into animal emotions.

Mar 11•The Kind Life

What Ants Teach Us About Compassion and What We Refuse to Learn

A Surprising Lesson in Empathy from Small Creatures

Feb 10•The Kind Life

Crows May Seem Ominous—But They’re Backyard Geniuses Smarter Than Your Dog

They hold 17-year grudges, craft tools like kids, and gift treasures to kind feeders

Mar 3•The Kind Life

Do Animals Think & Feel?

Only over the past handful of decades have researchers been able to point to what every pet owner knows: animals possess cognizance and emotions

Dec 4, 2025•The Kind Life

A Conversation with Marc Bekoff

“Emotions are the gifts of our ancestors. We have them and so do other animals. We must never forget this.” The Emotional Lives of Animals by Marc…

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The Look in Her Eyes

Something like grace

Jan 14

Hey there! Welcome to The Kind Life

Saving one animal won’t change the world, but that animal’s world will change

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A Conversation Across Species

How one parrot reshaped views on animal intelligence

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Home for the Holidays? Dogs Would Love That, Too

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How to Tell the Difference Between a Lost and Feral Cat

Half of Lost Cats Are Indoor-Only—Don’t Assume Every Outdoor Cat Is Feral

Feb 1•The Kind Life

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Elephant Mourning

Elephants have vigils and rituals for their dead. A glimpse into animal emotions.

Field guides, trackers, and researchers have seen it again and again: Elephants do something extraordinary when they pass the body or remains of another elephant—they stop, become still, and then gently and slowly caress the elephant with the tips of their trunks. They emit low rumbling sounds and distress calls. They drag over branches or tear up grasses and cover the carcass gently. They do this ritual even if the elephant was not part of their herd. Elephants show no interest in the carcasses of other species.

When they come upon a dying elephant, their behavior is more active, protective, and interventional. They try to lift and prop up the elephant, clustering around it and bracing it front and back to keep it upright. They trumpet and roar and guard the dying elephant—some facing outward and some tending the elephant.

Mother elephants are at the heart of some of the most haunting accounts of elephant grief. Researchers and rangers describe elephant cows staying with a stillborn or dead calf for days, trying desperately to lift and nudge the body. An Asian elephant near Tumkur, India, was recorded jostling her lifeless calf for more than 24 hours, her ears fluttering in distress. A group of 12 adults gathered around her, apparently trying to console her. In multiple documented cases, mothers have lifted dead calves with their trunks and carried them for days.

Scholars of animal sentience, such as Marc Bekoff, Frans de Waal, and Jonathan Bird, argue that the question is no longer whether animals feel, but why sentience evolved—and why we keep doubting it. Their point is disarmingly simple: if an animal screams when injured, plays when safe, and shows every outward sign of distress when its young dies, insisting we “need more data” before acknowledging its experience becomes less about scientific caution and more about moral convenience. Elephants—with their vigils, their bone caresses, and their attempts to care for a dying tribe member—push that discomfort to the surface.

When an elephant stands over the bones of a long-dead companion, falling into stillness and tracing the skull with her trunk, she invites us to widen our circle of empathy—and to admit that grief may not be ours alone. We can choose to label that behavior as mere instinct, or we can acknowledge that we are watching another intelligent, deeply social species grapple with loss in its own way.

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Crows May Seem Ominous—But They’re Backyard Geniuses Smarter Than Your Dog

They hold 17-year grudges, craft tools like kids, and gift treasures to kind feeders

To read on Substack: https://thekindlife.substack.com/p/crows-may-seem-ominousbut-theyre

Crows carry an eerie reputation (medieval folklore linked them with death, ill-omens, and the supernatural), but their genius rivals apes and young children in problem-solving, memory, and social savvy. Consider New Caledonian crows, close relatives of the American crow, which have been observed in University of Auckland labs bending wire into hooks or carving twigs to fish food from tight tubes, demonstrating tool-making skills once thought unique to humans. Crows in labs ace the 6th-century Aesop’s fable “The Crow and the Pitcher”: after viewing water-filled cylinders from various angles, they drop optimally sized stones to raise the water level and snag a floating treat—matching toddlers’ reasoning skills. Magpies, a fellow corvid (corvids include crows, ravens, rooks, magpies, and jays), pass the mirror self-recognition test—a rare feat outside of great apes and a few cetaceans like dolphins.

Crows lock onto human faces with remarkable precision, holding grudges against threats for up to 17 years (longer than an individual lifetime), sharing that intel across family networks, and even teaching hatchlings born long after the fact. In a University of Washington study by corvid researcher John Marzluff, 7 crows were temporarily trapped by a masked person in 2006; in 2013, 47 of the campus’s 53 crows (family networks) mobbed the mask-wearer. The scolding continued, gradually declining over the years, and ending in 2023—showing multi-generational grudge-sharing. Their brains, though walnut-sized, pack twice the neuron density of great apes and enable skills like cooperating in family crews to defend turf and outsmart rivals. Crows outpace dogs in mechanical puzzles, retrieving tools via insight where canines guess-and-check. On lab puzzles demanding multi-step logic, crows match the causal reasoning of 5- to 7-year-olds, dismantling traps and inventing tools on the fly.

Then there’s the “gifting”—one of crowkind’s most enchanting quirks, backed by verified anecdotes collected by experts like Marzluff. If you feed them consistently, they might repay you with treasures: a shiny button, a lost earring, a pierced soda-tab necklace, or a candy heart neatly placed on your feeder. In Seattle, eight-year-old Gabi Mann fed neighborhood crows for years; they responded by curating a collection of beads, metal scraps, a broken pearl earring, and half a “Best Friends” heart pendant. Marzluff himself documented a man finding a candy conversation heart perched on his bird feeder after regular feedings, as well as crows threading soda tabs onto pine sprigs and leaving them precisely where food appeared daily.

Here in Pennsylvania, the pattern holds: a bird-feeding friend in western PA shared three photos of gifts left by crows—a man’s tie, a rubber band, a bit of fluff (see below)—placed deliberately on the porch adjacent to her daily peanut feeding station.

Scientists like Marzluff caution that intent remains tricky (is it true reciprocity, or is it learned conditioning where dropped trinkets prompt more peanuts?), but a 2014 study from Austria’s Konrad Lorenz Institute found ravens and crows far more eager to exchange objects with familiar humans than with strangers, supporting social reciprocity over mere conditioning.

When next you spot a flock of crows (the medieval phrase “murder of crows” is falling into disuse) gathering in your yard, don’t consider it ominous. It’s elite wildlife intelligence at work—sharper than your dog in memory and mechanics, with a dash of mysterious generosity. Your next backyard visitor might just leave you a gift.

Loved this glimpse into nature’s hidden wonders? Subscribe for weekly insights on animals, empathy, and living thoughtfully. Visit: https://thekindlife.substack.com/

Crow gift photos – anonymous
Crow photo courtesy of Sonny Mauricio

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How to Help a Neglected Backyard Dog in Winter (Even If It’s Not Yours)

All over the U.S., backyard dogs are shivering through freezing nights with no real shelter. Here’s exactly what you can do today.

Help a 24/7 backyard dog

Share this post to help more dogs: https://thekindlife.substack.com/p/what-you-can-do-to-help-a-neglected

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What Ants Teach Us About Compassion and What We Refuse to Learn

A Surprising Lesson in Empathy from Small Creatures

Written by coalitionforanimalrights.substack.com; excerpts reprinted with permission

View in substack: https://thekindlife.substack.com/p/what-ants-teach-us-about-compassion

Last month, I watched tiny black ants gather on my patio. At first, they seemed like nothing more than a background hum in the soundtrack of life, moving from plant to plant with that mysterious, purposeful rhythm ants always have. But then I saw something that changed me, something that should trouble every human being who calls themselves compassionate. Scattered among the crawling ranks were the bodies of their fallen. And what these ants did next stunned me: they carefully lifted their dead, one by one, carrying them to a makeshift memorial, a lined row set aside where no one would trample them. It was a display not of instinct alone, but of respect and community, a mourning ritual in miniature that revealed profound dignity in the lives we too often overlook.

It deepened my respect for these often-ignored creatures. Ants, like all living beings, carry out their lives with purpose and grace, even in a world that largely disregards them. Seeing them care for their dead struck me. It forced me to confront something uncomfortable: these tiny beings, so small we barely register their existence, showed a degree of consideration that many humans lack entirely, especially when it comes to the vast suffering inflicted by human hands.

Because the truth is harsh: we live in a world where animals suffer at an unimaginable scale. Where countless creatures are hunted for “fun,” lives extinguished under the guise of sport, where bullets crack through beautiful bodies just for the rush of a kill. Psychological research suggests that killing animals for pure recreation reflects a profound absence of empathy, stripping life from sentient beings for pleasure betrays a chilling disregard for suffering and pain.

And it’s not just the obvious violence of hunting. Day after day, animals are tortured, exploited, commodified, and dismissed as lesser simply because they do not speak our language or resemble us. This isn’t accident, it’s a systemic cruelty rooted in a worldview that separates humans from nature instead of recognizing our shared existence. Even scholars have noted that mistreatment of animals can be a reflection of a broader moral corruption, where cruelty becomes normalized and empathy erodes.

So pause here for a moment and let the weight of that sink in. Think of the deer hunted on a whim, the birds shot down as targets, the foxes trapped in agonizing steel jaws. Think of the animals who are bred and confined, their entire lives devoid of the simplest joys—no freedom, no play, no safety, no respect. Feel the sadness, because it is real. These are not abstractions; these are living, feeling beings whose suffering echoes in a way we should never, ever dismiss as “just nature” or “just tradition.” Our empathy, like something fragile and sacred, is what binds us not just to each other, but to the world we share.

Watching ants honor their dead pushed me to see something deeper: life is finite, fragile, and sacred. Whether it’s an ant, a bird, or a magnificent stag, each creature deserves dignity in life and peace in death. We are all only here for a time, sharing this planet with countless other beings. To truly understand them, to cohabit rather than dominate, [we must] challenge the conditioning that teaches us to fear or exploit nature.

I’m not suggesting you invite every animal into your home. But the next time an ant or a spider or a bird crosses your path, pause. Remember the larger home we all share. There is almost always a peaceful, nonviolent way to coexist. There must be. Because when even ants show respect for their departed, what excuse do we have for the atrocities we commit in the name of entertainment, tradition, or convenience?

Our compassion defines us. Our willingness to stand up for those who cannot speak for themselves is how we honor life, not just the adorable and familiar, but the vulnerable, the forgotten, the thousands whose lives are cut short by our indifference. If we can learn from the ants, then surely we can learn to protect rather than destroy.

Share this story. Talk about it with others. Let it stir something in you that compels action, whether that’s kindness in everyday interactions, advocacy for animal rights, or support for a movement that refuses to let suffering continue unquestioned. Let it remind you that every life matters, no matter how small, and that true humanity is measured not by how we treat our own, but by how we treat all beings with whom we share this Earth.

Thoughtful humane stories about animals, nature, and what it means to be human. Weekly posts, no spam. To subscribe: https://thekindlife.substack.com/

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How to Tell the Difference Between a Lost and Feral Cat

Half of Lost Cats Are Indoor-Only—Don’t Assume Every Outdoor Cat Is Feral

To read on Substack: https://thekindlife.substack.com/

When people see a cat outdoors, it’s not uncommon to assume that the cat is feral rather than lost. Contrary to popular belief, almost half of lost cats are indoor-only pets. Of the approximate 80 million “owned” cats in the US, estimates are that up to one-third of them go missing at some point, and a quarter of those of lost cats are never reunited with their families.

It can be difficult initially to tell the difference between a lost cat and a feral one, because both are likely to be wary. Here are some tips to help you to tell the difference, and what then to do.

Lost cat:

  • Might meow—feral cats (except kittens) do not meow. They often live in fear and do not meow to avoid detection by predators
  • May be skittish initially but may come to tolerate being approached and/or may seek out human help/contact
  • May hang out near houses because they are familiar locales
  • May be friendly, as the cat has socialized with humans at some point
  • Is alone (feral cats can be part of a community of feral cats)
  • The fur may appear dirty or ungroomed
  • Is diurnal—out during the day because they have adopted human schedules

Feral cat:

  • Does not meow at humans
  • Is hypervigilant, skittish, and unfriendly and/or takes a long time to become trusting
  • Is more likely to be nocturnal or crepuscular (active at dawn and dusk).
  • May have an ear tip clipped (if they were trapped and spayed/neutered at some point)

What to do for a lost cat:

  • Provide water and food, and provide shelter in cold weather
  • Lure it inside or trap it, take it to a local animal shelter* or ask them to pick it up, or have your vet or a shelter scan the cat for a chip
  • Assess whether it is sick or injured; if so, call your local animal shelter for help
  • Check on ‘missing cats’ online boards and advertise “found cat” with photo and location on: https://www.pawboost.com https://nextdoor.com https://www.facebook.com as well as on telephone polls, etc.

What to do for a feral cat:

  • Life is rough for feral cats—they generally live only two to three years. Provide water, food, and shelter
  • Cats were originally desert animals and do not fare well in cold weather. Provide shelter to reduce their suffering. Here are some easy options:Build a shelter: how to build a cat-friendly shelter for ferals • how to build an outdoor shelter for cats Buy a shelter: Elevated cat shelter
  • Consider TNR (trap, neuter, release) if the cat is healthy and well-fed (if not, trapping and euthanasia is infinitely kinder)
  • Assess whether it is sick or injured; if so, call your local animal shelter for help

Compassion in Action:

To find your local animal shelter, go to: https://www.chewy.com/g/animal-shelters-and-rescues

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The Cat & Erna’s Garden

View on Substack: https://thekindlife.substack.com/p/the-cat-and-ernas-garden

Erna’s home carried the scent of roses and crisp cotton sheets. Her kitchen was sunny, with worn oak floorboards and flowery curtains billowing in on the breeze.

These days Erna’s garden is overgrown with tassel-topped grasses and dotted with sparse flowers. The shutters and gutters are slightly askew, and moss grows on the white clapboard. Sometimes I come to watch the weeping willow’s arms sweep across the pebble driveway, and to remember.

I knew Erna long before she knew me. From the woods where I lived I watched as she carried a basket on her hip to the clothesline. . . as she tilted her face toward the sun and closed her eyes. . . as she weeded the garden and gathered an armful of flowers for her table.

One afternoon I sauntered over to her as she was pegging out the laundry. “Oh!” she said, “Oh! Wait here.”

black and white cat ID-10029960

She came back with remnants of a pork chop and a small bowl of water. Each afternoon after that I visited her. She sat next to me on the patio as I ate, talking about anything that occurred to her. I think she was lonely.

Cold weather came early that year, and the wind bit through my fur. One day, as I waited for her on the patio, Erna held the door wide open. “Well, come in,” she said. I walked in and made myself at home.

By day I kept her company in the kitchen as she worked, her hands moving in and out of shafts of light, her shoulders soft and rounded. She hummed tunelessly to the soft, repeating clang of the wooden spoon against the mixing bowl.

By evening we sat by the fire in winter, and by the open window in summer. Erna worked with her hands, making afghans, quilts, and linen napkins, always in shades of green.

By night I slept on the window seat under the dormer, the stars glimmering overhead.

In time, Erna became ill. People came and went from the house. I slept curled by her feet, caring for her as I could. She passed away anyway. I watched them carry her from the house, but it wasn’t her.

A neighbor woman took me home with her. I’ve made my life there with her family, and it’s a good life. But sometimes I come here to Erna’s garden, to sense her, to feel our life together.

Compassion in Action:

If you see a stray cat, consider helping it by taking it in or taking it to a rescue.

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Self-Rescuing Bald Eagle?

View on Substack: The Kind Life

Thanks for reading! For weekly stories and simple actions that improve animal welfare: The Kind Life

An injured, fully grown bald eagle was found at the door of wildlife rehab center in British Columbia. It remained unmoving and quiet, and peered into the glass door. A broadhead hunting arrow was embedded in its back and blood loss was evident.

When staff carefully approached, the eagle did not attempt to flee and allowed them to bring it into the facility. According to the veterinarians who treated it, the eagle showed no aggression or panic. Surgery was performed the same day and the wound was reported as severe but treatable. Without intervention the eagle would not have survived. The eagle was given antibiotics, pain management, and rehab to regain flight strength.

The eagle’s point of origin, route, and distance traveled are unknown, but one might surmise that the injury occurred in one of the hunting areas, none of which are close by.

Injured animals tend to seek cover instinctively, and there were several structures, unoccupied buildings, and forest edges where the bird might have sought cover. While biologists urge caution in interpreting events like these, the eagle’s behavior struck the staff as unusual. One stated, “It felt like it knew exactly where to go.” Even experienced wildlife professionals admitted the case was extraordinary.

Compassion in Action

What can you do when you see injured wildlife? Observe from a distance without approaching to avoid stressing the animal further, which could worsen injuries or lead to defensive behavior. Note key details like location, species, behavior, and visible injuries (e.g., limping or bleeding) for rescuers. Contact your local rehab facility by searching here: Local Wildlife Rehabs

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A Conversation Across Species

What happens when a bird masters human logic, proving intelligence knows no species? Alex the parrot’s story will change your perspective. For the complete tale, exclusive reader Q&A, and weekly actionable insights —join me for free on Substack

In the 1970s, a commonly held belief, especially among non–pet owners, was that animals were essentially automatons, reacting to stimuli but lacking the abilities to think or feel. Animal psychologist Irene Pepperberg sought to test the theory. In 1977, she brought Alex, an African gray parrot—a species famed for its mimicry—into her Brandeis University lab. She began an experiment that would eventually blur the boundary between human animal and nonhuman animal minds.

One of the ways Pepperberg taught Alex was through the Model/Rival technique, where two humans interacted in front of him so he could observe words used purposefully rather than merely repeated. Within a few years, Alex had a working vocabulary of more than a hundred words. Alex could identify objects by color, shape, or material—and even combine those concepts when asked questions like, “What color three-corner wood?” correctly answering “green.” He could infer absence, identifying a missing color through the process of elimination, demonstrating logic-based reasoning. When shown two items and asked, “Which is bigger?” or “Which is greener?” he chose accurately. He understood abstract ideas like “same,” “different,” and even “none,” correctly answering “none” when asked how many green keys were among a group of colored keys. He could also group objects conceptually (e.g., all keys as “metal,” all fruits as “food”).

Alex grasped the concept of individual identity; when researchers asked him which bird they were pointing to, he would appropriately answer “Alex” for himself or name another bird—like “Griffin” or “Arthur.” He identified letters by sound, not just shape. When Pepperberg showed him a written letter and asked, “What sound?” Alex could produce the correct phoneme, indicating phonological awareness—an ability linked to early literacy in humans.

He created words for unfamiliar objects by joining elements of known objects; he came up with “banerry” the first time he saw an apple, apparently blending “banana” and “cherry”—a creative leap suggesting flexible thought. He used refusals like “No” or “Don’t want that” with unambiguous purpose. Alex showed rudimentary counting skills, counting up to eight, and in controlled tests, adding together two small groups of items when asked, “How many total?”

Alex’s intelligence came with a distinct personality. He teased researchers by deliberately mislabeling objects, then laughing when they looked surprised. When a student once misidentified a color, Alex corrected her—“No, blue!”—and repeated himself until she agreed. When a trainer ate lunch without sharing it with him, Alex muttered “Naughty!” while turning his back in offense. When Alex lost his temper and bit a researcher, he later said, “I’m sorry,” without being prompted—a sign of contextual awareness and social repair behavior rather than mimicry. He showed empathy-like responses. If a researcher seemed upset or frustrated, Alex sometimes said, “Don’t be sad,” or “It’s OK,” echoing appropriate emotional cues.

Alex died unexpectedly in 2007. His final recorded words to Pepperberg were “You be good. See you tomorrow. I love you.” Alex left behind more than data; he left a challenge to our assumptions about animal consciousness. His life invites science to reconsider the borders of intelligence—not as an exclusive human territory, but as an area still largely unexplored across the living world.

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Compassion in Action:

Consider making compassionate consumer choices. Cruelty-free products are cosmetics, skincare, or household items not tested on animals at any stage, from ingredients to final formulation. Look for certifications like Leaping Bunny, which requires strict no-testing policies throughout the supply chain as well as independent, third-party verification.

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Bridget Bardot Gave a Voice to the Voiceless

To read on substack: https://substack.com/home/post/p-182806305

Bridget Bardot was defined in the 1950s and 1960s by her on-screen and off-screen uninhibited sexuality, voluptuous figure, and tousled blond hair. In 1973 she abruptly left acting, saying “I gave my beauty and my youth to men, and now I am giving my wisdom and experience, the best of me, to animals. . . I don’t care about my past glory. That means nothing in the face of an animal that suffers, since it has no power, no words to defend itself.”

While indifferent to her past, Bardot leveraged her fame to advance awareness of and reforms in animal welfare. Her contributions in the field include establishing the Fondation Brigitte Bardot for the Welfare and Protection of Animals; filing thousands of investigations and lawsuits against animal cruelty; lobbying for legislation against factory farming, slaughterhouse practices, the pet trade, religious ritualized slaughter, fur trapping and hunting, foie gras practices, and animal experimentation; opposing bullfighting, horse racing, and horse slaughter; advocating for dog meat bans in South Korea; funding shelters, spay/neuter programs, and wildlife rehabilitation centers; traveling to the Arctic to bring attention to the clubbing of baby harp seals; and promoting vegetarianism (originally) and then veganism.

In an essay in Ingrid E. Newkirk’s book One Can Make a Difference, Bardot wrote, “Young people are always a hope. More of them must realize that the animal is not an object for profit, not a toy for our amusement, hunted for sport, not something to be cut up for his fur. They may see that the animal has the right to live, just as we have the right to live. We, the animals, the plants are the whole, and the whole makes a chain, and if we break that chain, all of humanity will pay.”

Compassion in Action:

SPCA International (←please click to learn more about what this worthy organization is doing) – The winter is harsh, and countless dogs and cats are shivering, weak, and alone. Their goal is to save as many lives as possible. Your gift can make it happen.