If you look closely above, you will notice that there are many small, cone-shaped holes all around this young Magnolia tree. Those are snout pits.
Snout pits? I had never heard of them until recently, either. Oh, the things you learn when you get a new puppy! We've had diggers before. Tori was determined to dig to China. No matter what Jill filled the deep hole with, it wasn't long before she had it dug out again. Fortunately, it was not in the ordinary path for walking, so there was no danger of falling in, but it was right beside the deck and threatened to undermine one of the supporting posts. Jill-the-Builder finally filled it with cement, which effectively stopped the digging. Whatever Tori was after must not have been available in any other part of the yard.
For awhile, both Buddy and Lucky were digging beneath the maple tree, one hole that they took turns on. Buddy liked to drop toys in it. Lucky had started the hole, and didn't seem to appreciate his contributions, which sometimes caused hierarchical disputes. Lucky won.
But now we have snout pits because we've lucked into having a "Dixie Dingo", aka Carolina Dog. It is one of their most enduring, defining characteristics, this digging of shallow nose holes in which they snuffle around and eat some unknown bug or mineral out of the dirt. Unlike the other dogs, it's not the gravitational pull of one or two holes for burying toys or digging for fun. We have snout pits all over the yard. She digs them side by side sometimes, effectively creating a trench, or more often in a large circle which gradually becomes a maze of little holes. There's no walking in the backyard after dark, if you value your ankles.
Besides my amazement at this built-in behavior, it makes me think about myself and other humans I know. She's born that way --- sound familiar? She can no more stop digging snout pits than any of the other inbred behaviors that were adaptive to the native environment of South Carolina coastal wetland life, which is where these dogs originate. And humans? Well, we seem to have some built-ins as well.
I've been watching the pissing contest in Washington with dismay and some amusement. Sometimes, a depressive bent of mind is helpful: all these clowns will be dead sooner or later, some much sooner than others. Somehow, I find that reassuring. Even though there is no shortage of others to take their place, this particular political setpiece will become another chapter of history, has already moved in that direction. And people who learn about it later will shake their heads in wonder, just as we do when reading about the South Carolina senator who, in 1856, beat fellow senator Charles Sumner with his cane, on the Senate floor, over the issue of slavery.
Are these things immutable human behavior? Is this kind of posturing, power seeking, and aggression simply bred into the human psyche? Part of our DNA? Our other dog, Buddy, is a runner and a climber. He has climbed up the fallen willow, several feet off the ground, to chase a squirrel. In order to keep him from climbing over the fence and running the neighborhood, we had to run an electric wire around the top of the fence. He didn't decide not to climb over the fence anymore, he learned it wasn't worth getting his little nose zapped by a shock (very small, I assure you. I've felt it myself, most recently this morning when I accidentally leaned against it.)
Are they teachable, these politicians and corporate power/money mongers? Can they be curbed? They seem determined to pursue their self-selected goals unto the death, which, to me, does not seem adaptive in the long run. I guess these questions have been around as long as there have been people. We teach small children prosocial behaviors in order to make them fit into the prevailing culture. We shape their natural instincts by demanding that, over time and when it's developmentally appropriate, they start toileting in the accepted manner for their society. It differs by location and culture, but I don't know if there are any communities in which toileting is not circumscribed in some manner. We're not born using the bathroom, but we sure do learn it. As far as I know, all these Congress and Wall Street folk are toilet trained, so they must be teachable, to some degree.
So where do aggression and violence fall on the continuum of social behaviors? Make no mistake about it, verbal aggression is simply a precursor to violence. It's no accident that verbal debate led to Senator Sumner being beaten so badly that he was unable to work for three years afterward. And yet, Preston Brooks, after resigning his seat, was later re-elected --- a seal of approval for his violent behavior.
Our doggy companions want nothing more than to please us. Perhaps, through positive and/or negative reinforcement, I could make Nanalu quit digging treacherous snout pits all over the yard. Maybe I could train her to only do it in certain parts of the yard, if I really cared that much. She is, after all, housebroken, so I know she can learn to modify her natural inclinations.
I believe this tension between instinctual and learned behavior is one of the most fascinating topics there is, and undoubtedly a major reason I was a career educator. Why humans and animals do what they do and learn what they learn is endlessly interesting to me.
You think we could get up an army of preschool teachers and go to Washington and do some intensive work with these guys? Sharing, taking turns, being kind, compromise, using your words and your inside voice. Or maybe just sideline them and show them how it's done. That's the ticket!
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