Sean Carroll's Mindscape: Science, Society, Philosophy, Culture, Arts, and Ideas - 201 | Ed Yong on How Animals Sense the World
Episode Date: June 20, 2022All of us construct models of the world, and update them on the basis of evidence brought to us by our senses. Scientists try to be more rigorous about it, but we all do it. It's natural that this pro...cess will depend on what form that sensory input takes. We know that animals, for example, are typically better or worse than humans at sight, hearing, and so on. And as Ed Yong points out in his new book, it goes far beyond that, as many animals use completely different sensory modalities, from echolocation to direct sensing of electric fields. We talk about what those different capabilities might mean for the animal's-eye (and -ear, etc.) view of the world. Support Mindscape on Patreon. Ed Yong received Masters and Bachelors degrees in zoology from Cambridge University, and an M.Phil. in biochemistry from University College London. He is currently a staff writer for The Atlantic. His work has appeared in National Geographic, the New Yorker, Wired, the New York Times, and elsewhere. He was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in explanatory journalism for his coverage of the COVID-19 pandemic. Among his other awards are the George Polk award for science reporting and the AAAS Kavli Science Journalism Award for in-depth reporting. His new book is An Immense World: How Animal Senses Reveal the Hidden Realms Around Us. Web site Stories at The Atlantic Pulitzer citation Wikipedia Amazon author page Twitter
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Hello everyone, welcome to the Mindscape podcast. I'm your host, Sean Carroll. If you spend any time on the internet, or maybe even if you don't, you probably have heard about the amazing visual abilities of the mantis shrimp. The mantis shrimp is a tiny little guy. It's a shrimp that has probably the most complex eyes in the entire animal kingdom. You know, we human beings, we have color vision. Our color sensitivity is pretty good. Human beings have pretty good eyes. And we have three. We have three. We have three. We have three. We have three. We have three. We have three. We have three. We have three. We have three human beings. We have. We have. We have three
different kinds of cones in our eyes, three different kinds of color-sensitive photo receptors
that are the three different kinds sensitive to slightly different wavelengths.
If you're an astronomer, like I used to be, it's like three different filters
that pass different wave bands through to the eyes.
So we can combine these three different kinds of photoreceptors, trichromatism, it is called,
to reproduce what we see as different colors of light, what we perceive as different colors of light.
Now, the mantis shrimp has 12 different kinds of photoreceptors with different sensitivities across the spectrum.
So it has been, in popular imagination, imagined that the mantis shrimp sees a whole bunch of kinds of colors that we human beings can't actually see.
Sadly, that's not true.
And on today's podcast, you will learn that that is not true.
The mantis shrimp doesn't actually take advantage of its dodeca chromatism or whatever you want to call it.
it's actually, according to physiological tests, not able to discern even as many colors as human beings are.
Sorry to undo that little legend for you.
But the point remains the same, which is that we use our senses to make pictures of the world,
to build a model of what is really out there.
And of course, there's a trivial sense in which different kinds of animals sense the world differently,
if they're sensitive to different wavelengths of light or different frequencies,
of sound. But there's also a more profound sense in which animals of different species perceive the
world in wildly different ways because they either have more sensory apparatuses or entirely
different kinds of sensory apparatuses. There are animals that live off of sensing vibrations
and can basically touch things far away via signals sent by air or water. Not to mention,
animals that have actual receptors to magnetic fields or electric fields,
in ways that human beings just don't have.
So all of these animals really construct in their minds
a very different kind of picture of the world
than we human beings do.
That's what we're going to talk about today with Ed Yong,
who has a new book out on exactly this topic,
an immense world, how animal senses reveal the hidden realms around us.
I've known Ed for a long time.
We were both briefly bloggers at Discover Magazine,
I don't know, 15 years ago or whatever it was.
Since then, Ed is going on to go,
great things. He's a staff writer for the Atlantic. He did a lot of coverage of the coronavirus,
COVID-19 pandemic, and won the poll surprise for his coverage of that. But the book that he just
came out with is actually, or I guess it will come out tomorrow, is much more along his traditional
beat of looking at ways in which animals are both similar to us and different to us. And of course,
it helps us understand ourselves
to think about the fact that we are
constructing images of the world predicated
on our sensory access to that world,
but more importantly, it just helps us understand
that animals are different,
that what it is like to be a bat
or a mantis shrimp, etc.,
is very different than what it is like
to be a human being.
Okay, so occasional reminder
that we have a web page here
on preposterous universe.com
slash podcast, so you can find
all the old episodes
Mindscape, complete with transcripts, show notes, links, etc., links to the books, like today,
a link to Ed's book, an immense world.
And also we have a Patreon.
If you would like to support on Patreon, you can go to patreon.com slash Sean M. Carroll.
You get to ask questions for the Ask Me Anything episodes, which will now be regular Monday
episodes going forward.
And also, of course, you get ad-free versions of the podcast.
So many ways to experience the Mindscape Podcast experience.
So with that, let's go.
Ed Young, welcome to the Mindscape podcast.
Hello, thanks for having me.
I wanted to start by asking you if you've ever done dining in the dark.
Do you know what that is?
I have heard of it, but I have not done it.
It's when you are having dinner.
I feel like it's the clues in the name, right?
Isn't it just where you have dinner in a completely dark room
and there's like waiters with night vision goggles?
Well, there's waiters.
The way that we did it, the waiters were actually blind.
So they were just used to getting around without any vision.
But they turn off all the lights.
It's a great scam if you're a restaurant because you don't need to decorate your restaurant.
And also the gimmick is that the rest of your censorium becomes more sensitive.
So the food doesn't need to be fancy.
It just needs to be kind of vivid.
And you taste all the differences between the different kinds of lettuce and your salad and so forth.
And you learn to get around without seeing things.
That's interesting.
Was it good?
Did you enjoy it?
It was good.
I did enjoy it.
They also come out with little games to play to see if your sense of touch has improved
because you can't see anything for a couple hours.
But it made me think of it because it's sort of like censorium tourism, right?
I mean, your book is all about how different animals experience the world in different ways through different senses.
And it just made me think of how we can sort of fake that by depriving ourselves.
of senses and how the world appears differently when we do that.
Yeah, absolutely.
You know, I think that I, so the book is about this concept of the umwelt,
the idea that every animal has its own sensory bubble and it has its own like coterie of
spells and sights and sounds that it can tap into another's can't.
And, you know, the man who pioneered this term, Yakovinovonaut school, he,
he thought of the study of
Walton as an act of travel,
as an act of adventure.
And that's what I think of when
you talked about censorium tourism,
that it is
sort of a wonderful mini-adventure
to push against the constraints
of your own senses.
Yeah, and I think that
when you mentioned to the person on the street
that different animals sense the world differently.
There's sort of easy examples that come to mind and hard ones, right?
Like different wavelengths of light, okay.
I mean, it's pretty easy to imagine animals sensing that.
So the example you use, I guess, is sunflowers,
look like they have a bullseye in the center to certain birds and bees.
Right, that's right.
If you can see ultraviolet light, then, yes, flowers look different.
The plumage of many birds look different.
Some birds that look identical across the sexes to us actually are quite distinct to the birds themselves.
But then there's also these wild examples of completely different kinds of senses, like the mosquitoes sensing CO2.
I don't know if that counts as smell, or how would we characterize the fact that mosquitoes know to find people by sensing their carbon dioxide emissions?
So I think that is a very specific kind of smell.
But, you know, again, it is a form of smell that we don't readily have access to and does stretch the imagination.
You know, maybe to the same extent as imagining an ultra-by that bull's eye on a flower might do.
You know, you could imagine the smell of someone's breath being incredibly attractive rather than like whatever we think of as being as our reaction to breath.
But you're right that there are other kinds of sensing that do seem exotic and that really push the limits of our imagination.
So being able to sense the magnetic field of the earth as many songbirds and turtles can do, being able to sense electric fields as many electric fish can do, being able to sense body heat as rattlesnakes or vampire bats can, these all feel.
much more alien.
It's not just like the sunflower example
where you're essentially swapping palance, right?
You're just translating from, you know,
B vision to human vision.
But do you think even
one of the extraordinary thing
about the senses, I think, is that
even when you're thinking about
more familiar senses,
so not like electro and electroreception
or magnetoreception, the ones that we just don't have,
even something like vision that we have,
It doesn't take much to start getting into territory that challenges our imaginations in the same way.
It's one really easy example.
A duck that's sitting on a pond because of the placement of its eyes can see the entirety of the sky without having to turn its head.
I cannot imagine that.
I can try, but it feels hard and effortful.
I'm so used to having my visual world be right in front of me
and be like 180 degrees swath of space directly in front of my head,
that it's really, really hard to imagine seeing behind me.
You know, to imagine walking in a straight line
and have part of your visual world recede away from you
as well as while another part goes towards you,
that feels very challenging.
Do you think, and maybe this is something we just don't know,
but do you think that the brain of a duck is literally different kind of hardware
to deal with that, or is it maybe just a software problem?
I think that it's a bit of both.
And I think the hardware piece of it becomes more obvious
when you think about something that is like much more different to us than even a duck.
So the example I give in the book is an octopus, right?
And an octopus has a large nervous system, but most of that nervous system exists in its arms.
Its arms have a large number of neurons that more collectively than its actual, that the brain in its head does.
and those neurons allow the arms to work semi-autonomously.
The arms have a bit of their own agency,
and they can move and do things independently of what the main animal is doing.
There's some connection between those two things,
but then when you think about the senses,
it becomes even weirder because the arms have taste and touch receptors on the suckers,
and then the head does vision, obviously, with the two eyes.
So you have this creature that has this,
distributed nervous system and that's doing different kinds of sensing with different parts of that
nervous system. So, you know, how do you put all of that together? Again, it's very hard to
imagine. And, you know, in the book, I write about how throughout fantasy and science fiction
literature, we have many examples of people who, you know, project their consciousness into the
minds of other animals.
And this is like a very standard, like,
mythological trope.
But, like, my argument is because the hardware is different,
it just wouldn't work.
Right.
Like, you know, the mind and brain of a human have evolved to process
information that comes in from the body of a human.
So you can't just, like, you know, shunt that into the body of an octopus
and expect that to work in this sort of weird, like,
dualist way, I think that, you know, the whole thing exists as a package and must be understood
as a package. Now, that makes perfect sense to me. And I think what I'd like to do, you know,
given your book that is coming out, by the way, I'll tell people the name of it. It's called
An immense world, how animal senses reveal the hidden realms around us. And we go through in the
book all these senses, both the familiar ones and the less familiar ones. And I want to do that.
I want to hit some of the highlights. But first, I like what you've just said.
because it drives home the fundamental fact that it's not just a difference of degree, right?
It's not just a couple wavelengths here or there.
It's a very different kind of sensing.
And you have this wonderful sentence in your book early on where even if it's with the same senses that we know about,
they can be deployed in different ways.
So you say there are animals with eyes on their genitals, ears on their knees, noses on their limbs,
and tongues all over their skin.
And you can just imagine following Thomas Nagel and what is it like to be a bat,
that the world of such a creature is just a different kind of world,
even if it's the same physical world,
even if you're eating the same food and dining in the dark,
your reconstruction of it inside your brain is an utterly alien phenomenon.
Absolutely.
And I think Nagel was very prescient and exactly right on this.
there is a sort of fundamental unknowability to that phenomenon for exactly those reasons.
You know, the senses are different, the animal's body is different, it puts those senses together in a different way.
And yeah, even part of the, I think part of the reason for writing this book and part of why I'm interested in this topic is it turns like even the most familiar of ideas into things that feel like unfamiliar and weird.
You know, so you just listed a bunch of examples of sense organs appearing in different body parts.
So for humans, taste is something we do with our tongues that exists in our heads.
And partly that's because of our size.
We're a medium-bodied animal.
And so the foods that we eat is when we eat, we put food inside our heads.
If you are a very small animal, like an insect, food can instead be something that you land on and walk.
upon. And for that reason, many insects from butterflies to flies have taste receptors on their feet.
So a fly that's landing on the apple that you're about to put in your mouth is tasting that
apple as it's walking around it. And again, like, I think that truly challenges your imagination.
You can just about, like, you know, if I'm touching, like, the mattress that I'm sitting on now.
I don't know what it would be like to have, you know, to be able to smell or taste or have a chemical sense of that in the way that a flyer and octopus might.
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Hey, everyone, it's Cal Penn.
I'm the host of Earsay, the Audible and I-Heart Audio Book Club.
This week on the podcast, I am sitting down with Ray Porter,
the narrator of Andy Weir's audiobook Project Hail Mary,
Massive sci-fi adventure about survival and science.
and what happens when you wake up alone very far from Earth?
I really had to make a decision because I caught myself getting that frog in my throat and starting to get teary as I'm narrating some of these sections.
And it's like, okay, yo, yeah, yo, is this indulgent?
And I really thought about it.
I was like, no, at this point, it would kind of be betraying the trust the author and the listener have in telling this story if I don't go through it.
But there's places in this book that deeply emotionally affected me.
and I left it on the mic.
That's great.
Because it served the story.
People will say like, oh my God, I cried at the end.
It's like, yeah, dude, me too.
Listen to Eursay, the Audible and IHeart Audio Book Club
on the IHeart Radio app or wherever you get your podcasts.
Well, and it makes perfect sense because as I was reading about taste in your book,
in some sense, the sense of taste comes too late to be a good warning system, right?
The food is already in our mouth.
but for a creature where taste is external,
that can actually be useful information
before you start ingesting the stuff.
Yeah, absolutely.
You know, for us, like, well, even for us,
like, taste is a quick warning system.
You know, if something tastes bitter,
we can spit it out.
But, you know, if you're very small,
if you're a fly, you can just take off.
This, incidentally, is part of the reason
why Diet works.
You know, deep taste.
repulsive to mosquitoes. And if a mosquito lands on an arm that's covered with
deep, it tastes something foul and takes off. Good. So it's not, I guess I would have thought it
was smell, but you're saying it's really taste. Well, okay, so I talk about this in the book,
right? The distinction between taste and smell is actually quite counterintuitive. And
and hard to explain to the extent that I even asked like some biologists like what is the difference
between them and some of them struggled for an answer. You know, you think you can go through some
of the obvious guesses, right? Like some people would say, okay, taste is something that you do with your
tongue and smell is something you do with your nose. But how does that work when you're a fly and you're
tasting with your feet or how does that work with your snake, which is tasting with its tongue?
So it's not just about the organ.
Some people say it's about the distance of the stimuli.
So taste is about close contact,
like sensing chemicals that you have to make physical contact with
that exist in liquid or solid form,
whereas a smell is about detecting chemicals
floating over long distances through the air.
But again, there are problems with that.
If you are an aquatic animal,
the distinction between those two things
become like collapses into almost nothingness.
And even for smell, those molecules are dissolving in a liquid layer in your nose.
So there's always a liquid phase.
I think that the actual distinction between them, as one person who studies taste explained to me, is in their use.
Taste is a largely innate and inflexible sense that is used most, almost entirely to work out of something is good to eat or not.
It's very simple and it's quite binary.
It's like yes, no, spit or swallow.
And smell is more complex, more dependent on experience and more tailorable.
Smell depends on your positive and negative experiences
with chemicals over the course of your life.
And animals put it to a very wide range of uses from navigational.
to finding food, to social interactions.
So, you know, that thing that the mosquito is doing
when it lands on a deep covered arm and reflexively takes off
falls very much under the rubric of taste.
It's the kind of thing that taste allows an animal to do.
I guess I would have intuitively thought
that my personal sense of taste is more subtle
and varied than my sense of smell.
Maybe I'm just not very good at smelling.
things. Well, okay, so I think that's partly because most of what we think of as taste is
actually smell. Like when we eat food, that like sense of, like having a refined palette, that sense
of connoisseurship of being able to identify flavour, almost all of that is smell. All your taste buds
are really giving you is the five basics, right? It's sweet, sour, bitter, salt and
umami um that you know the the the the richness that we associate with meals that like a lot of the
pleasure that we derive from food is really about smell it's about those those um you know things
hitting your nose as you're putting food into your mouth or like going up the back of the
palate um yeah it's it's it's interesting that culturally taste is the sense that we associate
with like connoisseurship right we talk about people having like fine tastes um whereas it's actually
the cruder and less sophisticated sense than smell.
I guess I should have known that.
Are you familiar with An Sophie Barvich, who is a philosopher?
Right.
Yeah, I know the name.
She's a philosopher of smell, and she was a previous guest on Winescape,
and she's a champion of taking smell more seriously,
and I should have remembered that lesson from talking to her.
There's a lot going on.
But, I mean, let's just get into it,
because we don't need to go in the order that I was imagining things.
smell and taste seem different fundamentally to me than many of the other senses we're going to talk about, which are kind of vibration-based, right?
You know, electrical, electromagnetic waves, sound waves, literal vibrations.
But tell me if I'm wrong here, but I get the feeling that there's a molecular kind of fit and lock and key mechanism going on when we talk about the sense of taste and smell.
Yes, and I caveat this by saying that actually a lot of how those of the details here are still unknown.
So certainly with smell, there is very much a lock and key thing.
There are receptors that are specially shaped to recognize different molecules around us.
And those receptors are the sort of fundamental Lego bricks.
that our sense of smell operates on.
But, you know, the universe of possible smells is huge.
And certainly more vast than, you know,
than our, like, a genetic repertoire of odoreceptors.
And so there has to be this quite complicated, like,
combinatorial code that goes from, like,
the basic hardware in our nose to, like,
our ability to distinguish between this just huge universe of possible odors,
both individually and in combination.
And smell is super complicated.
And a lot of that, like, you know, that intermediate step between, like,
detent, like, snagging a molecule from the air and, like, shoving into another molecule
that recognizes its shape.
And then, you know, what exists in our heads, like the aroma of baking bread and all that,
that is still largely mysterious, I think.
And, you know, that's for us, let alone for other creatures.
Do you have an opinion, especially after writing this book,
about the claims of wine connoisseurs to be able to pinpoint, you know,
pencil shavings and apple rinds and leather smells and tastes in a good bottle of wine?
So, you know, I do think that,
I'm sure that there certainly are people
who are very good at identifying particular odors
and, you know, and recognizing them.
And I think this partly is a thing that humans
are just not very practiced at.
It's the, as you said, as others have noted,
humans kind of deprioritize our sense of smell,
like just culturally.
You know, we, it's not a thing we have a rich vocabulary for.
Most of our words for describing smell are borrowed from other senses
or they're just like nouns, you know, like lemon.
And we've sort of underappreciated and thus underdeveloped it.
Now, I think a lot of people have a much keenness and smell.
I think a lot of people are better at putting words to their experiences.
There are even entire cultures of people who have rich,
smell
vocabularies.
But, you know, I think
the wine question is interesting
because while I'm sure that it is
possible to identify specific smell components
of it, like, this is very heavily tied into the
question of like, you know, is an expensive
bottle of wine actually better, right,
than a cheap bottle of wine?
And I think for that, like, there have been a lot of
trials showing that actually it's not the case, right?
Like if you sort of blind, if you do like a
experiment, you know, often, like, people can't tell the difference between them in terms of, like, purported quality.
But I also feel like this speaks to some of the malleability of smell and of our senses, right?
That we can, that it's also a bit top down rather than bottom up.
that it depends on, our experience also depends on, like, the cultural value that we impart on these things.
And so, you know, one way of looking at the wine thing is, ha, ha, ha, look at all these rubes, thinking that this wine that they've paid a lot of money for is special.
But another, perhaps more generous way is, isn't there something like kind of cool about the way our brains and senses are constructed, that you can take something that is basically unidential, like, in,
actually indistinguishable from something that's like from from from another type of wine and imbue it
with what really really feels to people like something special you know my own feeling about those
studies is that they can't possibly be studying people who are practiced and trained to taste wine
because it seems to be it's a pretty big difference between a fine bottle of wine and a and a cheap
one but i have to look that up to be to be sure but but certainly you know our training
matters and our context matters. You know, as you say in the book, precisely the same smell
can be, and then Sophie Barvich said the same thing in our interview, can be either repulsive
or attractive depending on its context, right? It can be like cheese or awful, depending on how
you encounter that smell. Yeah, absolutely. And, you know, that's true within humans. You know,
for both reasons, both cultural and genetic. You know, there are some people. You know, there are some
people with genetic variants that mean that body odour smells like vanilla.
You know, very, very lucky people, I feel, I feel rather envious of them.
But, you know, and then those differences become even more extraordinary across the
animal kingdom, you know, as a very basic example.
Like my dog typo is not repulsed by the smell of poop in the same way that I might be.
you know, every, it's, I think this is a good example of what the umwelt means.
Like different creatures vary in what smells they have access to and then what those smells
mean to them and how those smells are used in their life.
Well, and you do point out the very important thing in the book that we humans,
when taking our dogs for walks, uh, deny them their umwelt sometimes because we're,
we don't understand that they need to smell things.
Let them smell things. That's their lives.
Right, right. It's such a fundamental part of being a dog.
And, you know, I think a lot of dog owners, not knowing that, pull dogs away from smell experiences, you know, hurrying them along on a walk, stopping them from sniffing other dogs in the genitals because they think it's indecorous for some reason.
I do think that it's a problem, right?
There are studies by people like Alexandra Horowitz,
who has many great books and dog cognition about how dogs that are allowed to sniff
and encouraged to sniff end up being basically happier,
like less anxious, more optimistic, because they just get to be dogs.
And I encourage this.
Like when type and I go out for walks, you know, at least once a day,
we have a walk that is here.
is to control.
He gets to decide how he wants to spend that time.
We don't have a destination in mind.
We might make it like one side of a block.
We might go for, you know, we might go further afield.
But it's his to control.
And what he does with that time is he snips like really intensely.
He explores even bits of street that, you know, we've walked,
we've walked along hundreds of times over.
You know, I think like that's, that alone is, is indicated.
of how important that smell, the sense of smell is to dogs.
Like if you give them full agency, the way a lot of them choose to exert that agency is by sniffing everything.
Yeah, and I don't claim to understand it at all.
I mean, I have two cats, one of which will not want you to scratch her until she has sniffed you,
your fingers thoroughly.
The other one couldn't care less.
He's like, yes, scritches.
I want them now.
Yeah, right, right, right.
And right, so there's species level differences and there's absolutely individual level differences too.
You know, one thing that I've said a few times in talking about this book and which I plan on saying, like, as my disclaimer in front of any Q&A in any in-person event, is I cannot tell you why your pet does that weird thing that it does.
It is as much a mystery to me as I'm sure it is to you.
But I think that, you know, we can start getting somewhere, right?
We can start thinking about the kinds of hypotheses that make sense,
or the kinds of things that we, the kinds of questions we need to ask.
You know, like, so, you know, I'll give you an example.
There are sometimes when Typo looks out the main window of our living room and freaks out,
where he just like starts barking at the window.
And it's not when, and, you know, sometimes it's obvious, right?
Sometimes like someone's running a doorbell, like, loud, there's a loud van driving past.
But sometimes we don't know why he does it.
And like, you know, like watching that, firstly, like gives me a lot more sympathy for people
who believe in things like ghosts, for example, like paranormal stuff.
Because if you're not used to thinking about animals as,
existing in a completely different sensory world,
then if they are reacting to something you can't sense,
that can't be natural.
It's going to be supernatural.
But I think if you were used to think about Omelts,
then you can start asking questions like,
okay, is there like a vibration out there that I'm not feeling?
Is there a high-pitched noise that exists beyond the level of my hearing,
but that typo can hear?
You know, are there smells drifting in through the cracks in the window
that are freaking him out?
Like, is it a weird shape that, like, my much sharper eyes can identify as something innocuous,
but that he has somehow, like, mistaken for a threat?
I might never know the answers, but at least, but I think those are the right kinds of questions to be asking,
and they flow from this understanding of the different sensory worlds of other animals.
Well, and we have a lot of senses to cover here.
So you already mentioned that human beings are pretty good at vision.
I mean, we're pretty vision-centered.
in our lives, I think.
We sort of, as you already said, the vocabulary that we use even to describe other senses is often borrowed from vision.
So let's talk about that a little bit.
You did discuss this.
Maybe it's a theory.
Maybe it's pretty obviously true of how eyes develop over evolutionary time through different stages.
First, just sensing the existence of light and then moving on.
Maybe I'll let you tell the story.
Right.
And I think this is certainly pretty well accepted.
among vision scientists, you know, it's the ideas very, very reputable and well-respected team.
But it sort of goes along four stages that first you have simple light-sensitive cells
that do nothing more than detect the presence of light.
And that's very useful for animals that want to, for example, find, for animals that want to sense like the time of day.
You can imagine like an aquatic, simple animal that's reacting to the presence or absence of light.
Then the next step up is also pretty simple.
All you do is add some kind of shade to your light sensitive cells.
So maybe it's a dark membrane or a spot of pigment.
And what that does is it blocks light coming in from a certain direction,
which means that now you not only can sense light,
but you can tell which direction it's coming from.
And that allows you to do another more, like an expanded class of things, including like crawling towards shade, finding like protection and shelter.
Then the next step up, if you take a lot of those shaded cells and you put them together, then suddenly you have the ability to sense an image, you know, a low resolution image at first.
But then that gives you the ability to do more stuff in the world around you, you know, beyond just like,
head towards dark area.
And then the fourth stage is when you add
focusing elements to that, when you add things like lenses,
like basically deluxe features that turn
what might be a very blurry image into a sharper one.
And that's how you end up with the kind of eyes that we have.
And that allow us to do with vision all the things that we do,
reading, looking at each other's facial expressions,
like things that involve
high resolution.
And yeah, I think that this,
there's a few things that are notable about this pathway.
Like, we have examples of animals that exist at every point along that spectrum.
And so, you know, Darwin lamented this idea that our eyes seemed perfect.
And it was hard to imagine how they, the gradual steps by which they evolved.
But we now have those steps.
We have those steps in theory and in practice.
but also, you know, Darwin was wrong, I think, in saying that in thinking of our eyes is the sort of perfect exemplar, right?
Like, there's no destination eye that animals were sort of evolving towards.
All of those eyes on those intermediate serves exist because they are very well suited to their owner's needs.
You know, so starfish is pretty simple eyes on the tips of its arms, which he can use to find the shelter of a reef.
but that's what that's all it needs to do.
A starfish doesn't need an eagle's eye,
doesn't need you able to spot prey from miles away.
An eagle does.
So in many ways, I think the eye is a great example
of evolution tuning and animal senses
to the needs of its owners.
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Well, and a point you also make in the book is that having good senses requires resources.
There's reasons not to be perfect at all the senses,
because, you know, we have to give and take what we can,
given the amount of energy and space in our bodies and brains
we want to devote to these senses.
Right, totally.
And I think that may be, I think that can be a counterintuitive idea,
in part because, you know, a lot of sense organs are basically holes, right?
So it's very easy to think of them as, like, passive receptacles, you know,
like the eyes absorb the light, like sound goes in through the ears.
The sense organs become like these sort of vacuums that soak up stimuli in the world around us.
But for any of them to work, it takes a surprising amount of energy.
Like even getting the neurons in the retina ready to fire at the moment when light sensitive cells detect light,
they need to be perpetually set in this state of, in the state of excitement.
You know, the analogy I give is it's like you're drawing a bow and knocking an arrow and holding it there always
so that at the moment when you could fire the arrow, it's ready.
That's what the nervous system that operates our senses is doing all the time.
And so to have that in place takes a considerable amount of energy.
So even when I'm closing my eyes, even if I'm sitting in the dark, having good eyes drains my resources.
And it means that there's always going to be trade-offs.
It means that no animal is going to be able to sense everything because it has energetic limits.
But also no animal needs to sense everything.
And that's partly why Umbal's exactly.
exist at all. It's because evolution has tailored the animal sense and animal senses to the needs
of its owners, you know, according to the limits of its energy budget. Well, and there's another
layer of sophistication, right, because, you know, the story you told about the development of
eyes up to the focusing and so forth is kind of parallel to how we would imagine a really good
camera being developed. But eyes have this extra thing where the different photo.
receptors are used for different purposes, like rods and cones in our eyes at a very basic level.
But then, you're going to correct me if I get this wrong, but jumping spiders have different
eyes for motion versus sharp vision. This is just a whole other level of elaborateness, I think.
Right, right. You know, we have different parts of our eye that are devoted to different tasks.
So we have the center of our retina, just not off the center, the fovea, is where our vision is sharpest.
You know, it's why when I'm looking at you right now, I can see your face in detail, whereas if I look off to the side even a little bit, now your face is blurry in my field of vision even though I can still see it.
A jumping spider has something similar, except it has fully, like it has done this full division of layers.
thing between its sets of eyes so that the center pair of four pairs does sharp detail or division
and the pair just on either sides of that the lateral center the lateral pair do does movement
detection yeah and that's just crazy to me you know you can i've watched experiments being done
where the lateral eyes have been blocked and you move
like the shape of a cricket in front of the spider,
and the spider cannot track it.
You unblock those eyes,
and suddenly the lateral eyes are telling the middle eyes where to go,
and the spider is following the cricket.
That's...
How do you even begin imagining what that might be like?
I mean, I assume that for the spider,
this all fuses into like a single, stable,
unified visual experience
like it does for my eyes
with those sort of do different jobs
existing in different parts of the same eye.
But
like is it?
The fact that they are separate
does absolutely blow my mind.
I'll give you another example, right?
So color vision exists throughout
my retina.
It's sort of best in the phobia,
but I'm looking around me
and everything I see is in color.
But you have like
larval fish where
the part of the retina that's
pointing upwards
is monochrome so it's really only seeing in black and white
a part that is facing
forward
and a little bit down
is sensing mainly
you ultraviolet to pick out its prey
against the ultraviolet fog of the water
and there's another part that is doing
tetra chromatic color vision
so that's seeing like more
another dimension of color beyond what we can see.
So you have the same eye that's doing three different kinds of color vision in the eye of like
a baby fish.
Again, I cannot imagine what that would be like.
Well, clearly the brain knitting together all of these signals is a very, very important part
of this whole story.
I remember being very struck, stricken, struck by David Eagleman telling me that if you,
if you watch someone dribble a basketball walking away from you,
eventually, you know, it takes longer for the sound to get to you than the light,
so they will become out of sync.
But for a long time, they remain in sync because the brain puts them into sync,
even though it's taking the sound longer to get to you.
There's a certain point at which they suddenly go out of sync
because the brain says, all right, I give up.
Yeah, absolutely.
And that piece of it is very, very hard to get at.
We can just about get at it with humans, right?
It's really hard.
And that's the sort of, that's the Nagel thing, that like, even if you,
even if you, you know, you can do all the sort of fancy experimentation you want,
but that final piece, like how the brain knits that together into something subjective and cohesive is a little ineffable.
You know, so one example, right?
Like, so bats echolocate.
Bats send out high frequency calls and they hear the,
rebounding echoes and through that they can send to the world around them. They can navigate
through obstacles, capture insects, yada, yada. Because of the nature of that sense,
echo location should be stroboscopic. You know, the bat is putting out a call, it is hearing
the echo, it is putting another call, it is hearing the echo. Every set of call in echo creates
a snapshot of the world around it. So it should be like the equivalent of watching.
a movie, right, where you have different frames, each depicting something static. Now, when we watch a
movie, we obviously knit together those frames into something that makes sense to us, right, into a sense
of movement and into like this cohesive moving world. I assume that that is what bats do. You know,
I don't imagine that a bat's sense of the world as it flies and it co-locates is like, you know,
this strobe thing.
But I don't know that.
It's just an educated guess.
And partly, like, it's an educated guess I can make, in part because, like, a bat is
a mammal.
It has a brain, like, you know, smaller, but not entirely dissimilar to what I have.
So it's not hard to imagine that it has, like, the right, like, processing power to,
to create that, like, cohesive movie from all those snapshots.
That might be very different if you were.
thinking about something that had a much smaller or simpler brain.
Well, and even in the case of vision, our brain is doing a lot when it comes to color,
right?
We haven't talked about color yet, except you briefly mentioned the tetrochromatic aspect of things
for some animals.
But to a physicist, we think that we understand what color is.
It's the wavelength of light.
But of course, almost everything we're looking at has multiple wavelengths coming at us,
and our eyes filter it just down to three,
I guess three sort of filter windows.
Astronomers are very familiar with this.
But then our brain have to reproduce or reconstruct
what it actually seems like as a color to us.
And it's probably very different to different animals.
Yeah, totally.
You know, a wavelength of, what is it,
like 700 nanometers feels like red to us.
But it's not necessarily red to another creature.
to typo, my dog, it's going to be closer to like a kind of dark, muddy yellow
because he has a different set of, he has a different set of hardware in his eyes.
Yeah, like, you know, this color, I think is interesting because it is, it really is fundamentally
inherently subjective.
There's nothing specific about 700 nanometers that makes it red.
It's red because that's what we, that's what our.
our sense organs and our brains
that's the sensation that our nervous system creates
and that's going to be very different for other animals
so you know for a dog the visual spectrum goes from
you know kind of a dark yellow to a dark blue
and in the middle where we have green they just have like whites and grays
and for a for a bird
it's going to be a lot more complicated.
It's going to go from red to ultraviolet.
But, you know, again, like,
I'm talking about the visual spectrum
as if it was a linear thing.
And it isn't.
It's not just like, it's not that birds
with an extra type of color-sensitive cone in their eyes
push out the spectrum in its margins.
It's that they have this whole other dimension of color
that we don't have access to.
So you can imagine that an animal
that only has one or zero types of cone cell in its eyes can see like 100 gradations
from black to white and all the shades of gray in between. If you add another class, so you get
what typo has, you add another hundred gradations between blue and yellow that sort of multiply
onto those. So now you're talking about 10,000, possible discriminable colors. If you add another
type of coincidental level we have, then you add 100 gradations from red to green on top of that too.
And then if you add what a bird has, you add another, you know, it's all multiplicative.
And that's why that visual world of a bird is so difficult to imagine.
Like if you have another animal like, say, a bee, which is also trichromatic, it's, you know,
the bee just sees like a different part of the spectrum.
It just goes from like green to ultraviolet.
You can sort of recolor what we see into like what a bee might see.
But you absolutely can't do that with a bird because just fall into three, what doesn't go.
And so it's really, really hard to imagine what a bird might see.
You can say, like, here is a particular type of color that a bird sees and I don't see.
I can recolor, like, parts of the world that I have to match that, to show what a bird, where a bird might see it.
But you can't do that with, like, with all of the bits, all of the colors of the bird
has access to.
But all that, taking into consideration, you're still a little deflationary about the mantis shrimp,
which is very famous on the internet for seeing all sorts of colors.
And you're saying it's been exaggerated a little bit.
Yes, right.
So mantis shrimps have 12 or more types of color sensing cells in their eyes.
Right.
So people are like, oh, do they have like, are they, what is it, dodeca chromats?
Do they have this like 12-dimensional color vision?
And the answer seems to be no.
In fact, in terms of discriminating between different colors,
they seem to be substantially worse than humans or visual or basically anything else that's been tested.
And it seems that what they're doing, people's best guess of what they're doing,
is that, okay, so in our eyes, we're taking the outputs from three kinds of cones.
cells and doing quite basic arithmetic between them, like adding and subtracting those signals
in a process called a potency.
And that is how we go from three to like the millions of possible colors that we can see.
A mantis shrimp probably isn't doing that.
It seems to be taking the raw signals from its 12 types of color cells and just sending
them straight to the brain and then comparing them to a kind of lookup table.
This is apparently what satellites do.
And it's very different to what, like, basically all other animals do with color.
Rather than, like, having this 12-dimensional, spectacular rainbow in its eyes,
it basically seems to be collapsing the entirety of the visual spectrum into what tantamance is like a children's coloring book, right?
It's 12 different types of area that each get a different color,
and then you're sort of passing the world in that way,
which I think is the opposite of the reputation,
they have, but also, like, very cool still.
Well, look, it's a shrimp.
We shouldn't judge it too harshly.
It doesn't have a lot of processing power in the brain.
Right, right.
And so this is, right, and this takes back to the point where the size of the brain matters, right?
Like, you can have as much, like, an animal with a brain the size of a mantis shrimp,
really shouldn't have the processing capacity necessary to deal with like 12-dimensional
color vision. And it turns out it doesn't. Right. So, so it all goes, it all goes hand and hand. The
sensors are not just about what exists in the sense organ. My vision isn't just about the retina.
It's also about what the brain does with the signals from that retina. You've never been one to
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Hey, everyone, it's Cal Penn.
I'm the host of Earsay, the Audible and I-Heart Audio Book Club.
This week on the podcast, I am sitting down with Ray Porter,
the narrator of Andy Weir's audiobook Project Hail Mary,
massive sci-fi adventure about survival and science,
and what happens when you wake up alone very far from Earth?
I really had to make a decision because I caught myself getting that frog in my throat
and starting to get teary as I'm narrating some of these sections.
And it's like, okay, yo, yeah, yo, is this indulgent?
And I really thought about it.
I was like, no, at this point it would kind of be betraying the trust,
the author and the listener have in telling this story if I don't go through it.
But there's places in this book that deeply emotionally affected me, and I left it on the mic.
That's great.
Because it served the story.
People will say like, oh my God, I cried at the end.
It's like, yeah, dude, me too.
Listen to Earsay, the Audible and IHeart Audio Book Club on the IHart Radio app or wherever you get your podcasts.
Okay, again, lots of senses to cover here.
So let's move on to touch.
touch. I'm going to count vibrations in with touch, right? I mean, in some sense, touch is a
very direct thing. We're touching things. But then again, one of the points you make in the book
is that other kinds of animals have in some sense extended touch. They use the medium they're in,
whether it's air or water or whatever, to, for all intents and purposes, touch things that they're
not touching. Yeah, yeah, right, right. Yes. And I think that is,
you know, a bit counter-internity, right?
We can do that to an extent.
You know, I've a ceiling fan blowing now,
you know, I can feel the current from that fan.
But that kind of touch at distance
is very much par for the course where a lot of other creatures.
So, you know, a shorebird probing into the sand
can detect objects buried in the sand
that are beyond the reach of its bill
by sensing the ways the pressure waves
created by the probing bill
are deflected by objects in the sand.
You know, fish and manatees
can sense the currents created
by other things swimming in the water
around them.
And they can use that to sort of navigate
their environments, to sense each other.
You know, even a fish that is,
even a blind fish can school successfully
without bumping into its neighbors
because of this scent.
A seal
has whiskers that allow it to detect the trails left behind by a swimming fish that still exist in the water after that fish is gone.
And that's kind of, that's wild to me, right?
Like, I don't think, before writing this book, I would never have thought of a fish is leaving a track.
But it does.
It leaves behind turbulent water that continues to roil long after the fish is gone.
and that an animal with the right equipment, like a seal with its whiskers, can follow.
You know, even in the air, there are examples of this too.
There are, you know, you have things like crickets and spiders that can detect the ludicrously faint air currents created by other critters around them.
There are spiders that can detect the wind created by a fly precisely enough to then leap into the,
air and catch that fly.
There are crickets that can sense the breeze created by a charging spider enough to run away
from it.
And it really does seem like a lot of these creatures are like pushing against the limits of physics.
You know, their sense organs are about as sensitive as they could possibly be.
And I certainly cannot imagine what it is like to be a cricket for exactly these reasons, right?
I mean, the world is a different place.
seems like a different place.
I guess the right way to say it is the world is the world,
but you're sensitive to such a different part of the world
that it might as well be a different place.
Yes, yes, exactly.
You know, if you were in the same room as a cricket,
you would be sharing the same physical environment,
but you would both have a radically different experience of that environment.
And that is very much like the core of what an immense world is about.
And this is again skipping ahead a little bit, but it absolutely reminds me of the electrical fish, which you talk about.
And I actually had Malcolm McIver on the podcast talking about such things.
And I love, you have a little picture in the book of this fish, which has its electric field around it.
And an insulating object versus a conducting object versus a high capacitance object, all appear different to the fish that it just able to
to extend its electric field a little bit around it.
Yeah.
And again, like, how wild, right?
So electric, so the electric sense, more than any of,
so more than any other sense, I think touch is the closest analog for the electric sense.
You know, the electric sense occurs across, over an electric fisher's entire body.
It's, again, in like an extended form of touch, it goes for about an inch beyond.
the surface of the fish's skin,
and it is sensitive to different qualities
of the environment that we don't care about.
So you talked about like conductivity, you know, capacitance.
These are, you know, I guess,
what to an electric fish,
what things like brightness or color might be like to us,
you know, what things like volume and pitch
would be to our ears.
I think that the thing that really blows my mind about the electric sense is that
so these fish are producing their own electric fields and they're sensing the way those
fields are distorted by objects around them.
That's how they can make their way through water which is often too murky to see.
But those exact same pulses are also messages that they use to communicate to other fish.
So for them, the line between perception and communication is very blurry.
When electric fish fight, sometimes the loser will convey submission by ceasing its electric field.
You know, basically like someone just sort of shutting up and backing away from a fight, right?
And closing their eyes.
Because that is right, right, exactly, right.
But because that is the same field it uses to navigate,
it's also as if someone is losing a fight,
keeping quiet,
but also covering its eyes and ears and backing away, right?
The fish becomes oblivious to its surroundings
in the act of ceasing its communication.
And that's really weird.
It's hard to think about.
It's hard to think about as a writer and reader of this book,
but it's also hard to think about as a scientist
just studying these fish, right?
If you watch the animal doing a thing,
what is it doing?
Like, is it communicating?
Is it doing something like perceptual?
Is it doing something communicative?
A bit of both?
Neither, right?
It's hard to know.
Or is this distinction even relevant if you're a fish?
Yes, exactly, exactly.
And even though, I mean, as you said and I also sort of latched on to,
there's absolute similarities between the,
electrical sense the fish has and this extended sense of touch that we have from vibrations
in water or air or whatever, it is more alien to us human beings. We don't have any electrical
sense, roughly speaking, right? Yes, I think that's true. Well, I mean, you know, I can sense
an electric feel kind of, right? If I, like, lick a battery or if I, like, stick my finger
in the socket, I will feel something, but it's going to suck.
And it requires a lot of stimulus for that to happen.
Like these animals put electric fields to subtle and everyday use in a way that, yeah, absolutely, we cannot do.
I think that that's challenging to our imagination for a lot of ways.
Like partly we just don't have this sort of analog of it.
But we're also limited in our vocabulary, right?
Like when we're talking about what an electric fish feels,
we're talking about things like capacitance and potential,
like things that feels just a bit like cold and abstract,
that isn't like the rich lexicons that we have to describe things that we see or smell or here.
And, you know, that, I think it's a good example where the,
limits of our own senses and the limits thus of our language and our style of thought,
it acts as a barrier to really appreciating what these other creatures are experiencing.
Do you know of any science fiction writers who have imagined aliens that have electrical
senses and have invented a whole new vocabulary for them to describe the, oh, that's a capacitance
object over there, it must be alive, maybe it's tasty?
Right, right. I bet there are. I'm sure that.
there are, I just don't know of any of them off the top of my head. So if anyone's listening to
this and can think of a good opportunity, sci-fi, electro-receptive sci-fi, let me know. Well,
and the other thing is, because we don't have it, it is more mysterious to us. I mean,
you do a very good job in the book for every sense. You discuss literally the sort of biochemical
way in which it is activated, you know, the proteins that help us revision and so forth. But
how does that work for the electrical sense?
and I'm not going to give away the punchline,
but you point out it all stems from hair cells at the end of the day.
Right, yeah.
Right, right.
It's very strange that, so, you know,
we talked about this distributed sense of fish,
being able to touch at a distance.
That's their lateral line,
and it comes down to small hair cells
that they have in their bodies.
You know, fundamentally, like most forms of touch come down to this, right?
It's like a small structure that gets deflected.
And, you know, some neural setup that can detect that defection.
That is how most, you know, most touch operates.
And you put that thing in a capsule.
You've got the pressure sensor.
You put it on the skin.
You're something like water and air currents.
You put that in an ear, and it's something that can now detect sound ways channeled into
It's basically how hearing works.
And you can turn, so the electro-receptors that electric fish used to detect their own electric fields
evolve from those same types of cells.
So in many ways, the electric sense really is a very specialized form of touch.
So you know, you talked about wanting to talk about touch.
vibrations and all the rest in the same category.
Like if you were to be like super lumper about all of this,
like all of these senses are basically the same thing.
You know, they like touch vibrations, hearing, you know, echolocation in advance form
of hearing, electroception.
They all feel like just extensions of the same kind of mechanical sense.
You also have all these other wonderful senses.
I mean, I'm lumping a couple of sense.
together like we did with touch and electricity.
But heat and pain are listed as senses in your book.
I don't think of pain as a sense usually, right?
But I guess it is.
And you do a pretty good job of distinguishing between no-sception,
which I guess is the actual sense versus pain,
which is an experience, something that the conscious brain sort of feels after the fact.
Yes. And right, so how to deal with this was actually a challenge in the book, because it's
kind of a mish-mash sense, right? Most of the book is organized by stimuli. Like there's a chapter
on, the chapter in hearing is really a chapter about sound. The chapters on light and color
are really, on vision and color are really chapters about light. But pain is about detecting all
kinds of things that are united by their capacity to cause us harm. So, you know, some of that
might be chemical. It might be detecting noxious temperature, so extreme heat or extreme cold.
So how you deal with that is an interesting question. And eventually I decided like it was
just worth putting it in a separate chapter of its own because it does have this interesting
distinction. A lot of scientists talk about no seception, which is the detection of the harmful
stimulus and pain, which is the emotional response to that detection. So, you know, I touch a hot pan,
and my finger recoils before I realize what has happened. That's no seception, that reflexive
detection of the hot stimulus. Pain is the suffering. Pain is the fact that that incident sucks
and that I continue being in anguish afterwards.
This distinction is interesting because a lot of people use it as a way of denying the idea that animals can experience pain,
that they have this sort of emotional reaction to harm, that they only do the no-sception bit and not the pain bit.
And this question of whether animals can do pain, they have the emotional experience that accompanies no-saception.
is a huge part of that chapter.
You know, I talk about live debates about fish and insects and crustaceans and cephalopods.
But I think that it's important to get,
I think it was important to get that quite early on in the book
because some people have argued that,
so I actually think that things like fish and certainly fish and cephalopods
have, can experience pain.
It might be exactly the same as what we experience, but it is certainly of a kind.
But some people have argued that this distinction is meaningless, even in the pain literature,
because, for example, vision scientists aren't making a distinction between photoreception,
the detection of light, and vision the subjective thing, right?
It's only when we're talking about an area that affects the welfare of animals and our own moral.
and what we can eat, there we draw the distinction.
I actually think that line of argument is wrong,
because, as we've said, like, vision scientists absolutely do make a distinction
between those two things.
You know, there is basic photoreception.
They do draw a line when, like, something actually starts counting as an eye
or starts counting as true vision.
Why?
So the distinction exists.
The reason why it matters for pain is that it,
it feeds into all of these moral and ethical and even economic debates.
So, you know, trying to get readers to appreciate this distinction between like
objective and subjective, it pain, the chapter of pain, I think, gives us an insight into
like the fundamental unknowability in this that we've already talked about and that Nagel
pinpointed.
Yeah, and there's some incommensurability.
I mean, the fish or the shrimp or whatever feels something and whether or not its pain might not
be an answerable question in some philosophic sense. But bringing up these moral, ethical, other questions,
I promise this is the last question, but I do want to give you an opportunity to talk about the issues
raised in the last chapter of the book that we human beings, because we don't sense things in the
same way that other animals do, have been willy-nilly polluting their censoria with light and sound
and all sorts of other things,
and we are really making the earth a worse place
for other animals in various ways
that aren't very necessary.
Like, we could do a better job.
We could.
We flood the environment with light,
especially at night,
and breaking like this several billion-year hot streak
that the world had of cycling between light and dark.
We flood the world with noise.
We drown out alarm calls
and mating songs.
And, you know, I think all of this does harm to the animals around us.
I think it harms us, too.
It disconnects us from the nature that we're surrounded by.
It disconnects us from the cosmos.
You know, it's really hard to see the stars at night.
And, you know, most people who live where we live have never seen the Milky Way before.
I think that's profoundly sad.
And it comes from our own belt.
the fact that we don't think of these things as pollutants,
but they very much are to other creatures.
And I think that they are pollutants that we can remedy relatively easily.
It's not like plastics in the environment that are going to persist for centuries.
It's not like DDT and other pesticides that are similarly going to wend their way through the world
long after all of us listening to this have gone.
You want to fix light and noise pollution.
Often you can just flip a switch and it disappears.
it's a easy ecological win and one that I think we should try and fix.
And even if we don't know what it's like to be a bat, we can at least try to be nicer to the bats and let them enjoy their own own belts.
Absolutely. We can give the bats more space to be bats. I think that's a worthy cause.
That's a perfect closing thought. So Ed Yong, thanks very much for being on the Mindscape podcast.
Thanks, Sean. Good to speak to you. Take care.
