Tool-making

Tools can be seen as the means to a goal or goals. For example, a similar narrative to the shiny objects one can be constructed. Rare things were just objects to attract mates or facilitate social interaction. But obviously tools are also utensils that expand the range of resources in the environment accessible to a given individual. There are many examples of non-human animals using tools in their natural environments to widen their range of possible nutrient sources. One of the most studied behaviours is the use of stones or logs to crack nuts by non-human primates. We can perform the same exercise if we go to the countryside and see some freshly fallen nuts on the ground. Most likely, we will pick up a rock or a log and crack a few nuts for the pleasure of enjoying that small treat.

More sophisticated strategies for using tools also exist that can not be thought as tools in a strict sense, like fixed elements of an environment. And also more intelligent. I once saw a monkey in Colombia opening a coconut by hitting it against a large tree branch. I can honestly say that I could not have opened the coconut by replicating its technique, nor could I have devised the technique myself, even if I put my mind to it. For those unfamiliar with a fresh coconut, it has an inner hard shell, the same type we see in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. However, it is encased in a fibrous layer, about six inches thick, covered by a thin, smooth outer layer that is difficult to break. If you simply hit the coconut with a rock or throw it to the ground, the fibres absorb the impact, making it frustratingly difficult to access the inner part. Instead of a rock, the macaque had a neat and efficient opening process. It was a complex sequence: hitting the coconut against a large tree branch while standing on it, then rotating the coconut to remove the outer smooth layer and fibres until it had a convenient handle. Then it could crack the hard shell against the tree branch. This was a sophisticated process requiring knowledge, skill, and technique—one I have never seen a human use to open a coconut, and i counted almost about a dozen different ways of doing it on my travels.

Many other sequential, complex examples of tool use exist. In the case of birds, it has been observed that New Caledonian crows can create long-reaching tools out of short, combinable parts—connecting different short sticks to form longer ones that allow them to access food in a puzzle box. Interestingly, in that experiment, as we have seen, only one of the eight crows, called Mango, was able to piece together four or more short sticks. Therefore, intelligence is not evenly distributed among all individuals of the corvid family. Other great apes, including humans, can also use complex tools, especially to extract insects from holes and colonies.

More intriguingly, the other crows did not learn from Mango to apply his technique. His innovation, stemming from his superior intelligence, benefited only himself—perhaps allowing him to gather more food, gain a reproductive advantage, and produce more descendants who might inherit his heightened cognitive abilities. Consequently, knowledge acquired through innovation is retained only indirectly, as a genetic change—a process that occurs very slowly.

Despite their impressive tool use, neither non-human apes, birds, nor any other known species have made the cognitive leap to trading, exchanging objects or knowledge, or gifting them away. Each time a chimpanzee wants to eat ants, it must create an elaborate brush. There is no brush-making chimpanzee who exchanges their higher-than-average ability for food, grooming, or social status. Nor does Mango the crow trade his long tool with less skilled crows. There is no market or ceremony among non-human species where goods, tools, or knowledge are exchanged or given freely.

We will see that more sophisticated behaviour is needed, connectivity will allow the increased complexity of tools.

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