Every morning, white-capped babblers swoop into the veranda to clean up the remains of the dogs' dinner. Then they alight on the roof and pick nocturnal moths and insects that had gone to sleep around the lights. The next foraging site is the garden, where they flip over dry leaves looking for insects. When about forty birds are so engaged, the dead leaves dance, fly and shuffle around. By mid-morning, they have swept through the garden without leaving a single leaf unturned and they are sated. This is followed by a game: three or four run around a tree, chasing the one ahead. Sometimes, the game gets very charged as they run up a tree trunk flapping their wings, crest the fork and then run down the other side. At this stage, the twittering gets so excited and loud that we forget about work to watch them.
I asked a bird expert if he knew of other birds that enjoy a game. He replied, “Birds don't play and they might be doing something else that appears like play to us.” The more I watched the babblers' antics, the more convinced I became that they were indeed playing. What else could they be doing?
How do they all decide when to start playing? Among dogs it is easy. They bow low with their rump in the air, wag their tails and grin from ear to ear. How can anyone resist such an invitation? There's a popular online video of a polar bear being similarly invited to a game by a husky. For a tense moment it appears as if the bear is going to snack on the dog, but amazingly he recognises the ‘play bow' signal and the disparately sized animals play. The bear returned every day for a week just to play with the husky. As for the babblers, I've yet to discover the cue that gets them all going.
Dogs will do anything for a game. Specially trained canines help biologists find scats of wildlife in Washington State. For instance, Gator sniffs out grizzly bear droppings, Ally specialises in wolves, and Tucker focuses on killer whale poop. They cheerfully set speed records for finding the most scats in the shortest time, not for an edible treat but for a 90-second game of fetch.
Zoo animals such as young female rhinos romp with barrels. Lions, cougars, hippos, and even turtles push, swat and kick balls. Belugas and dolphins blow bubbles from blowholes or mouths and frolic with them. I have no doubt that the drive to play is very strong in animals.
Villagers brought an orphaned rusty-spotted kitten, the world's smallest wild cat, to a Sri Lankan friend of ours, whose pussy cat nursed it along with her offspring. During our visit, the wild cat was half-grown and bursting with energy. She chased a string with which I was teasing her through a hot summer afternoon until I was out of breath. She could effortlessly race up the seven-foot high smooth front of a wooden cupboard after the twine. Two hours of such boisterous play later, I was exhausted and the kitten was still going strong. No pussy cat I have known could play with such stamina, agility and imagination.
Why do they play? To me, that's a silly question. Why do we play? It relieves stress, builds camaraderie with our mates, improves motor control and mostly, it is just sheer good fun. Biologists who sometimes have to prove the obvious are finding that it's the same with animals. Every evening, our dogs look forward to playing just as much as they eagerly anticipate food. They begin getting restless at 30 minutes to game time, reading my face for the slightest hint, jumping up every time I move and rushing to the door if I get up. When animals and birds play, they are expressing a sense of well-being, their joie de vivre .
