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Monitors and Play Behavior
by Shari Anderson
Reprinted from the newsletter of the Pacific Northwest Herpetological Society, Vol.18, No.6, June 2003.
About six months ago, my savannah monitor, Nefer (who does not occupy a cage and calls the whole house her territory), came across a small furry ball that up to that point in time had been the exclusive property of my dog, Blythe. As I watched Nefer 'attack' the ball, shake it and attempt to crush it in her powerful jaws, I assumed that she must have mistaken the ball for a tasty new food item. And I'll bet that an object that had been repeatedly slimed in a dog's mouth that had chewed on and eaten only god-knows-what has a certain culinary attraction, so it's no surprise that Nefer was initially attracted to the ball. But that only explains part of her actions.
When she apparently tired of trying to disembowel the ball, she held it high in the air and paraded around the room with it (a behavior which still mystifies me). I thought that she would surely realize sooner or later that the ball was not food and abandon it. But over the next few days, the same scenario played again & again. And after a few weeks, I noticed that almost every time she 'dropped' the ball, she ran after it again. So I started to toss the ball in front of her and play tug-of-war with her - innocuous enough interactions if you're a human playing with a dog, but not a monitor lizard. She responded in kind by chasing after the ball. And while playing tug-of-war, she chomped down on the ball and braced her front legs, but stopped as soon as I let go of the ball - hardly the expected response of a carnivore afraid of loosing a meal. Even the dullest crayon in the box would have figured out after six months of always catching, but never ingesting, that this now familiar object was inedible. So is true play behavior at work here?
That's as far as I might have gone with those observations if I hadn't found a recently published book that is a rich and rewarding read: Komodo Dragons: biology and conservation; edited by James B. Murphy, et al; (2002) and published by the Smithsonian Institution Press. In a chapter entitled "Behavioral Complexity, Behavioral Development, and Play", the authors discuss a six year old, captive-reared Komodo that "...exhibited play-like behavior, such as removing a handkerchief...or notebook from the keeper's pocket...playing tug-of-war with a soda can, interacting with objects such as empty cardboard boxes and pieces of clothing and scarves". (p. 99)
The word handkerchief rattled my mental cage, recalling several passages from WaIter Auffenberg's book (The Behavioral Ecology of the Komodo Monitor; 1981; University of Florida Press) about field observations of wild Komodo monitors: "Number 34 W... entered the tent and rummaged about in our backpack. He left, but...returned and took Ishmail's shirt, shaking and tearing it as he carried it into the surrounding brush. At 1300 hr he returned and took a handkerchief that had been lying on the ground..." And another individual that "...smelled my paper as I continued to write my notes and moved my pencil all about. His "curiosity" in the paper, the pencil, and my hand was truly surprising." A third individual "Came into blind. I hit it on the head 3 times with my pencil, but it was not frightened off. It remained and flicked my tape recorder and my knife with its tongue..." (p. 317-318) Now the point of sharing this with you is not that a pencil is an important defensive weapon when it comes to protecting yourself against wild Komodos, but that even monitors exhibit behaviors that suggest qualities such as curiosity and play and therefore, these behaviors may have important roles in the survival of less complex brained animals.
Up until a few decades ago, play behavior was looked upon as the sole provenance of mammal and avian species. Play behavior 'required' a complex brain and the expenditure of energy, which in ectotherms can be an even more valuable commodity. And if play was chiefly thought to be an important mechanism to enhance skills needed as an adult in a complex societal group, then of course reptiles need not apply. But animals surprise us all the time. Not because they change, but because humans learn to look beyond assumptions. One only has to consider the long-term study of chimps at Gombe by Jane Goodall or the use of American Sign Language by Koko the gorilla and Washoe the chimp. Gordon M. Burghardt, principal author of the chapter in the Smithsonian's new book on Komodo monitors on behavioral complexity, behavioral development and play, ends that chapter with words that ring bright and true to anyone who has had the great and good fortune to share their lives with monitors: "...it is necessary that long-term studies be performed to gain a deeper understanding of their cognitive and emotional life, as well as the extent of individual differences and their roots." (p.117)
So, was Nefer really playing with her ball? (I had to buy another one for Blythe) Well, in my only slightly prejudiced opinion, I think she is. But no matter what label is attached to a specific behavior, that behavior is part of an animal's repertoire for an authentic reason. And right now, Nefer's not talking.
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