I’m intrigued by a new book that suggests the taming and domestication of wolves gave early humans the competitive edge they needed to beat Neanderthals and win the survival game, eventually replacing those earlier hominids.
Penn State anthropologist Pat Shipman’s book, “The Invaders: How Humans and Their Dogs Drove Neanderthals to Extinction,” suggests our early ancestors in Europe got the upper hand once they’d domesticated dogs. These wolf-dogs and humans formed a perfect hunting partnership. The dogs did the leg work, running game to exhaustion, and humans then moved in for the dangerous work of the kill. The spoils were shared.
I’m usually skeptical of silver bullet theories that provide simple explanations for what are usually complex interactions between species and their environment. I suspect domesticated wolf-dogs all by themselves weren’t enough to drive Neanderthals to extinction. And one could argue our old cave cousins never really went extinct seeing as between 1 and 4 percent of the DNA of non-African modern humans comes from Neanderthals— the result of prehistoric interspecies cave trysts. But the wolf-dogs probably played a role, just as the domestication of farm animals such as cattle and pigs gave explorers from the Eurasian landmass a competitive edge when they met civilizations in other parts of the world.
We may never know for sure if dogs were the doomsday device for Neanderthals, but this isn’t just an esoteric Discovery Channel debate about the behaviors of long-lost species. Whether T. rex was a hunter or scavenger for instance, is an interesting topic, but it has little impact in the modern world other than getting the underpants of feuding paleontologists in a bunch.
Dogs, wolves and humans, however, are still riding this rock, interacting in an evolving, complicated dance. The fury over reintroduced wolves is disappointing. I’m glad they’re back, but it’s too bad this debate has devolved into the kind of toxic “I’m right, you’re evil,” name calling that mars our political discourse.
It’s the dog domestication that interests me most. Theories abound for what provoked those first wolves to edge up to our campfires forming a partnership with humans. There’s also the remarkable elasticity of the canine genome that allows for dogs as diverse as Chihuahuas and Great Danes, or the species of particular interest to me, English setters.
If my early ancestors developed a competitive advantage by domesticating wolves, allowing our species to eventually rule the planet, I’d say I’m still reaping benefits from the partnership. Sure, plenty of folk live their lives without owning a dog, but I have to wonder about them just a bit.
The dog’s edge is its remarkable ability to read and understand humans. The interaction and cooperation my dog Doll provides is remarkable, especially given the limited level of training I provided to turn her into a hunter. She has the advantage of 400 years of selective breeding on her side, but as an educator I can tell you that getting youngsters of our own species to follow even the simplest of instructions can seem an impossible task.
And with students I share a “mostly” common language.
Doll and I don’t converse, verbally at least. But a day hunting is still a long conversation between human and dog. Her body language is as definitive as any words.
Conversely, I’ve been able to communicate to Doll that I prefer she point, rather than flush, birds once she finds them. This was the trickiest part of her training, as I also learned by watching her that she took great pleasure wandering off in the distance, nosing birds into the air. The occasional treat of a crunchy bird head helped her along her journey.
The spoils, it seems, are still shared between human and dog.