
It seemed fairly freshly dead. It didn't smell, nor did it seem to be bloated or rotting yet. Only the eyes were missing, presumably pecked out by seagulls based on the numerous tracks surrounding the body. Caz continued his inspection at the other end:
He did not seem especially anxious, excited or agitated. He just smelled the carcass calmly, but with purpose. But then he did something rather odd. After a brief pause, he dug his snout into the sand near the hind flippers of the seal and pushed a pile of sand onto the flippers:

He continued this until the flippers were completely covered:

I have never seen Caz do anything like this before! The whole process took only 10 minutes or less. His work was not hurried, but he was focused and worked consistently. I was impressed by the precision of his "shoveling"; very little sand piled upon the seal was redundant, with each new dig largely covering exposed area. He paid little attention to me or anything else during the process, only his work. For my part, I stood by, mouth agape, amazed and awed by this new behavior.
He did not seem especially anxious, excited or agitated. He just smelled the carcass calmly, but with purpose. But then he did something rather odd. After a brief pause, he dug his snout into the sand near the hind flippers of the seal and pushed a pile of sand onto the flippers:

He continued this until the flippers were completely covered:

He then moved up to the head and front flippers and continued his snout-shoveling:


Soon the front third of the seal began to disappear beneath the sand:


So he moved onto the side of the seal and began pushing more sand over the midsection:

Eventually the head was completely buried:

So he moved onto the side of the seal and began pushing more sand over the midsection:

Before too long, the entire seal was covered:

I have never seen Caz do anything like this before! The whole process took only 10 minutes or less. His work was not hurried, but he was focused and worked consistently. I was impressed by the precision of his "shoveling"; very little sand piled upon the seal was redundant, with each new dig largely covering exposed area. He paid little attention to me or anything else during the process, only his work. For my part, I stood by, mouth agape, amazed and awed by this new behavior.
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The big question lingering in my mind is what this was all about? I have shared the photos with many friends, and received many different responses. Most if not all expressed some degree of awe comparable to my reaction, and also wondered what was going on. There were some who did not want to know the underlying motivation, and simply appreciated the uniqueness and strange beauty of the act. And I respect that.
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But I find myself with an inescapable curiousness about the intent of Caz's behavior that won't seem to pass. Perhaps it's the nature of being a scientist. Or perhaps it's born of a desire to better understand my longtime friend and companion, to bridge the inter-species divide that inevitably is between us, no matter how many years we've had together or how strong of bond we feel.
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So I've been asking the question of myself and others: What was he doing? There seem to be two prevailing (and perhaps obvious) theories:
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1. He was storing (and maybe "seasoning") a large and fresh food source.
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2. He was burying (and maybe protecting) the dead, not for food but out of honor or respect (for lack of better terms).
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Of course, I'd like to believe #2. It would seem to reveal some deeper wisdom, or at least soul, in the boy. But logic at first told me that #1 was more likely. After all, it is well known that domestic dogs bury bones, and this has been linked to age old instincts to guard food from competitors and store it for leaner times.
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So perhaps I am not passing through life with the canine Gandhi by my side that wishful thinking had me starting to believe. But maybe so. A few things have me thinking that my initial hope might have some merit, and my initial reasoning might not necessarily be the case.
Firstly, he's never buried food or bones before. He will dig in the sand or snow, but it's usually because he's trying to retrieve a ball or frisbee or stick that is dug in, and needs to get under it a bit to get a grip. He has also come across animal carcasses before and has never made any effort to bury them.
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Secondly, other animals are known to protect their dead. I recall seeing footage in a documentary some time ago of a hippo protecting the body of its mate from crocodiles for days before being forced to leave it to forage. Of course, all the googling in the world hasn't turned up any footage, photo or even mention of this behavior. But I did find reference to elephant not simply protecting their dead, but burying them too.
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Of course, those hippo and elephant examples are one species protecting or burying their own kind, whereas this is a different species. However, there have been various reports over the years of dolphins protecting humans from sharks, so sort of inter-species empathy is not out of the question. Also, pinnipeds do have a distinctly canine look about them, and seals are in fact more closely related to dogs than are cats.
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Finally, one friend made an interesting observation that warrants consideration: There might be some significance to the fact that Caz faced the seal and buried it with his snout, rather than turn his back and kick sand backwards with his forepaws. Apparently in the dog world, facing someone is a sing of respect, whereas turning your back is a sign of disrespect (not unlike the human world, I suppose). So, facing the seal might reflect respect for the dead, whereas he might have faced away had he been storing food. Of course, there might be efficiency gains to be had by facing the body, as noted in my comments above about the precision of his efforts.
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I'm a bit uncomfortable with seeming like I'm making a case for theory #2 over #1, and therefore risking biasing the answer. However, #1 would seem to be more likely, on the surface at least, so it requires less of a case to be made. #2, on the other hand, begins to stray from very basic instincts from the wild into some deeper emotional aspects that are harder to explain and understand, but might nevertheless be at play. So, for what it's worth, my intuition, experience and, if I'm being honest, preference leads me to toward #2 (n.b. By "experience" I mean with Caz specifically and not with dog behavior in general. The uniqueness of the act and his demeanor just told me something else was going on...).
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So, I'm curious to know what others think, including those with relevant expertise and those who simply have some insight. Please visit the brief survey I created to gather perspectives, and be on the lookout for a post with an update on the results in the near future. Thanks!
2 comments:
so strange. my brother's rxn: I wish my dog would bury things in the sandbox instead of digging them out of the sandbox. I wonder what the dog would have done if the sand had not been so soft, or if the seal was dead on a rocky shore.
I really can't see it as anything other than caching:
http://www.bcrescue.org/nosing.html
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/2346614
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