An illuminating account of animal migration and the stunning new science that reveals their infinite, untapped knowledge.

"A loving ode to science itself, told with wit and wonder."-Thor Hanson, author of Hurricane Lizards and Plastic Squid

What do animals know that we don't? How do elephants detect tsunamis before they happen? How do birds predict hurricanes? In The Internet of Animals, renowned scientist Martin Wikelski convincingly argues that animals possess a unique "sixth sense" that humans are only beginning to grasp ...

All we need to do is give animals a voice and our perception of the world could change forever. That's what author Martin Wikelski and his team of scientists believe, and this book shares their story for the first time. As they tag animals around the world with minuscule tracking devices, they link their movements to The International Space Station, which taps into the 'internet of animals': an astonishing network of information made up of thousands of animals communicating with each other and their environments. Called the International Cooperation for Animal Research Using Space, or ICARUS, this phenomenal project is poised to change our world.

Down on the ground, Wikelski describes animals' sixth sense first-hand. Farm animals become restless when earthquakes are imminent. Animals on the African plains sense when poachers are on the move. Frigatebirds in South America depart before hurricanes arrive ...

As Wikelski shows, animal migratory rhythms are not triggered by genes encoded in their DNA, as previously thought, but by elaborate cultures that are long established. What does this mean for humans? It means that, by paying attention to animal cultures, we can learn more about our environments. We can better prepare for natural disasters, such as earthquakes, floods, and hurricanes. Most of all, we can learn to live alongside animals in harmony for the betterment of our future, their future, and the future of the planet.

Vorwort

• National print reviews, features, and interviews
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• Author is a highly connected scientist: cross-promotion with NASA and other high profile institutions nationally

Autorentext

Martin Wikelski is the director of the Max Planck Institute of Animal Behavior and honorary professor of ornithology at the University of Konstanz. Previously, he was a research fellow at the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute in Panama, assistant professor at the University of Illinois and associate professor at Princeton.

Keith Gaddis is the program manager for NASA’s Biological Diversity and Ecological Forecasting programs. An ecologist and biogeographer by training, he is a vocal advocate for the use of science in public decision-making.

Leseprobe

Prologue: A Sea Lion Named Baby Caruso

The sea lions on the beach are loud today. Something must be going on. I'm sitting under a wide shade tent supported by bamboo poles-our home away from home here on Isla Genovesa-getting ready to cook for our crew of four. We've been living on this uninhabited island in the middle of the Pacific for about five months observing marine iguanas.

Our goal is to find out why the marine iguanas on this island in the Galápagos have a specific body size. Why are they as small as they are and not, say, fifteen times heavier like their relatives on the neighboring island of Fernandina? To carry out our studies, we have set up camp on a beach tucked away on the west side of the island. It's surely one of the most beautiful places in the world, and perhaps one of the most remote. There's nobody here except for the four of us, and we have a special permit to camp on the island. It's a great privilege to spend time in an area where none of the animals are afraid of people, in a place where, it seems, no one has scared or persecuted them for millennia.

Our daily routine consists of getting up at sunrise, emerging from our individual tents, walking to the beach for a morning wash, returning to our communal shade tent to make coffee, grabbing our binoculars and notebooks, and heading out to the beach to observe the iguanas. There are lots of other animals in and around camp: red-footed boobies, blue-footed boobies, frigatebirds, mockingbirds, hermit crabs, sea lions. In fact, the hermit crabs have just pre-cleaned the dishes that I am supposed to wash on the beach today. I grab the plates and pots and cups, put them in a bucket, and walk barefoot over the sand toward the ocean.

As I start rinsing the dishes in a convenient tide pool, I hear calls from a sea lion I don't recognize. Like everybody in our team, I know what each one of the roughly forty sea lions on the beach sounds like. The big bull, our beachmaster, makes deep, growling noises befitting an old bear of the ocean. The sounds I'm hearing today are different, higher pitched and clearer than the others. I track them down to a newborn pup. The calls are simply beautiful and make me happy as I rinse the dishes in the calm pool in preparation for a thorough cleaning in the waves dashing onto the beach.

As I walk over to the ocean, the big beachmaster, who recently lost one eye in a fight with another bull, lumbers toward me with astonishing speed. A quarter-ton blob of muscle and fat in fast motion-heading in my direction. Perhaps he hasn't recognized me? All I can do is kick sand at him and shout at him briefly. Thankfully, he stops immediately. I'm not a threat to him. It could be that he just mistook me for a young competitor. Or wanted to show me who owns the beach. Just in case. He looks at me, barks a few times, and everything is good. He knows me, we know each other-and we both respect each other's duties. I walk back to camp with the clean dishes and tell my friends about the sea lion who was born with a beautiful voice. We call him Baby Caruso.

Three years later, in spring 1993, we're wrapping up our observations on the island. It's the typical scene: red-footed and blue-footed boobies hanging out in camp, a short-eared owl in the bush behind us hunting a mockingbird, and hermit crabs still pre-cleaning the dishes. After a good day of observations, I retreat to my personal tent as the sun sets to enter data in my laptop computer.

This year, I'm living a luxurious life in camp: I brought along a small table so I can work in my own tent, where I won't be disturbed by the wind and the waves. The entrance faces away from the beach, so my laptop is somewhat protected from the salty air. I'm fully immersed in my work when I hear the beachmaster bellowing. It's still the same

Inhalt

1. From the Prairie to Space and Back
2. The Bird Information Highway
3. A Little Ovenbird Makes Us Think Again
4. The Early Days of Tracking
5. Walking Like a Cowboy
6. Our Sputnik Moment
7. Rats! Still So Much to Learn
8. The Long March to ICARUS
9. Switching Back to Europe
10. Who's in Charge?
11. The ICARUS Design Starts
12. Tagging Animals in the Field
13. Getting Closer to Launch
14. Finally, We Have Liftoff
15. The Rocky Road of Tag Development
16. All Systems Go—or Not
17. Animals at Play
18. Putin Invades Ukraine
19. Cosmic Ideas from Aristotle to Humboldt
20. Berta, the Earthquake Cow
21. The Internet of Animals