Nature Abhors a Vacuum

In nature, one food source displaces another. For instance, the Virginia Mountain Mint that had all the insects gathered at the fence line in the spring  has now given way to bright yellow bidens flowers.

A Monarch in flight

I've come to expect the Monarchs at this time of year, and so I watch for their arrival on my side of the fence.

The Monarch butterflies suddenly appear at the fence line and are drawn to the yellow blooms, but many of the other insects that were there are all along, so excited about the Virginia Mountain Mint a few months ago,  are now just as happy to feed on the nectar of the beggar-tick bidens.

If I had not watched this compilation of nature clips that I had made over the past few months, I might not have noticed how the predominant white of the Virginia Mountain Mint gave way to the overpowering yellow of the beggar-tick  bidens. From a distance, they remind me of the safflower fields in the movie Only Yesterday. 

If all the same flowers were blooming throughout the spring and summer, how different it would be for the butterflies and bees! Wouldn't they neglect some flowers in favor of others? Bow is like that, too. I had to learn to buy fewer apples when there are pears to be had. And when handing out a snack between meals, it is important that it not be calorie dense, or else Bow will not be ready for dinner at the usual time.

That's why Pickle Ice is such a wonderful snack! Bow enjoys it very much, but I don't have to worry that it will spoil his dinner.

Because there are no calories in Pickle Ice, just water and vinegar and salt, Bow finds it refreshing, but it does not alter his diet. It does not displace other foods.

I remember when he was little, and we brought him to Orchard House to be tested on his literacy and language skills. It was an objective test, and he was offered chocolate, if he did it right. But even though Bow has always liked chocolate, he did not even try to do well on the test. In fact, he stubbornly insisted on answering every single question wrong. When a test subject consistently does that, and his wrong answers exceed chance, you know he is resisting. And one of the interns asked me: "Didn't he just have breakfast?" Well, yes, of course, he had. What mother would bring her child in to take an academic test on an empty stomach?

And what were they thinking?  That I should deprive him of breakfast? That I should starve him before the test? That he would skip breakfast and then fill up on chocolate? I was never going to allow that.

So here's a question that I have for researchers who use food as an incentive to do well at a task: does the reward food displace the everyday ordinary meals, or do the test subjects have bottomless pits for stomachs? I sometimes wonder if the same basic issues that plague academic economists in understanding the free market are at work in the studies of behavioral researchers. Nature abhors a vacuum. You cannot change what's available without changing the balance of things.

But... if I were to offer Bow an incentive to do well on a test today, I wouldn't offer chocolate. I'd offer Pickle Ice, because Bow likes that a lot, and he can even enjoy it on a full stomach. So there's a thought.

Rewards, Punishment and the Indomitable Spirit

The apple tree at Orchard House is loaded down with ripe fruit. It's really a rather small tree, but this year the yield is bountiful. I went over there several times this week to pick the red and green apples, and I have two giant bowls of them over here, and some in the refrigerator at Orchard House, and many more still on the tree.

The apples are a bit on the tangy side and the skin on them is a little coarse, and they come in irregular shapes, not like the apples from Wal*Mart. Still, they are perfectly edible, and I eat them myself. I also want Bow to eat them, but he's not sure he wants to. He's rather picky when it comes to fruit.

Yesterday, for lunch, Bow had a sumptuous feast, including a green apple from the store, a red and green apple from Orchard House, a banana, two Chinese pork dumplings, and some macadamia nuts. He chose to eat the green apple first, then the banana, then he asked for what he called "the little apple".

"Now, Bow, are you sure you want to ask for that little apple before the other things?" I asked. "You know if you don't finish it, you don't get the rest of your meal."

"Yes," spelled Bow.

I gave him the little apple from Orchard House. As I anticipated, after a couple of bites, Bow stopped eating and started examining the apple distastefully.

I waited a while to see what would happen, but when it was obvious he wasn't eating any more, I had two choices: to clear everything away or to try a more diplomatic approach.

Bow is a well-fed chimpanzee, though by most standards he seems slim, compared to chimps in institutional settings who are fed on Monkey Chow. I can and I will clear everything away, if need be, and I know he won't starve. But yesterday I was feeling more conciliatory, and I didn't feel like going through the whole day with Bow bearing me a grudge and me having to be extra tough on him.

I went and sat down next to him. "The apple is good," I told him. I took it from his limp hand and bit into it myself. As I was chewing, I made sounds to let him know I was enjoying the apple. After I finished that bite, I let him smell my empty mouth. Then I gave him back the apple. "Your turn," I said.

He started eating it again, but when he got close to the core, he stopped and gave me a searching glance. I took the apple from him again. "There's still more left to eat," I said and took another bite.

Bow smelled my breath after I was done, then he ate some more. But he never consumed it entirely, the way he does with his store bought apples until nothing is left but the stem. He left a small slender core, which by human standards would be equivalent to finishing the apple. By  chimp standards though, it was a protest against the quality of the produce.

I let that that pass, and he proceeded to ask for the rest of his meal, one item at a time.

One of my readers commented yesterday that maybe the way to get Bow to sit still and work on his penmanship would be to offer a banana as reward. But food rewards are not what motivates Bow to write. Neither would a punishment of denial of food be effective. Bow writes when the spirit moves him, and no threat or bribe can affect his output.

This is one of the things that I find most difficult to explain to outsiders. Yes, Bow loves food. Yes, food and mealtimes are important parts of Bow's day. But even when he is asking for food , or negotiating over food-related privileges, his use of language is not motivated by a direct food reward. Bow uses language to communicate, and one of the things he communicates are his individual preferences, his likes and dislikes.

I could no more motivate Bow to improve his penmanship by offering him a banana, than you could make your child excel at calculus by offering a lollipop. It just doesn't work that way!