Um, what? That was a throw-away line in The Bedside Book of Beasts. I am careful not call it a fact because I tried but couldn’t find any support through a quick act of Googling. But I also couldn’t find any examples to refute it.
Holy smokes if that’s true then (1) why didn’t I know about it until now, and (2) how the hell…
Okay, I’m not going to let myself get excited because I’m pretty sure this is wrong and I just didn’t try hard enough to find counterfacts. Besides, even if it is true, you’d probably have to add the qualifier non-human predation because the megafauna were probably killed off by human predation.
I think this bothers me because I can easily devise the logic of how a predator would kill off a prey species. For the sake of simplification, let’s say a pack of wolves wanders into Central Park, and their prey includes two species: squirrels, which are less common, and pigeons, which are more common. It’s possible that the wolves would hunt the squirrels to extinction because they could keep feeding on pigeons while eating the last of the squirrels.
If it’s possible, even if it’s a small probability, then through the course of history there ought to be lots of examples of this happening, right? If it hasn’t, then I’m missing something really important about how nature works.
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Again, I’m not saying it’s true, but if it is, maybe a hint at an explanation can be found in this:
Despite Social Darwinist assumptions about “survival of the fittest” and “nature red in tooth and claw,” it seems clear that evolution is not driven by competition. Instead, as John A. Livingston—along with a good many others—insists, the factor (in nature) “that appears to be more important than any other is compliance. I can very comfortably interpret ecological interdependence as co-operation.”
Barry Lopez gives some (questionable) evidence:
Hunting wolves start to chase an animal and then turn and walk away. They glance at a set of moose tracks only a minute old, sniff, and go on, ignoring them. They walk on the perimeter of the caribou herds seemingly giving warning of their intent to kill. And the prey signals back. The moose trots toward them and the wolves leave. The pronghorn throws up his white rump as a sign to follow. A wounded cow stands up to be seen. And the prey behave strangely. Caribou rarely use their antlers against the wolf. An ailing moose, who, as far as we know, could send wolves on their way simply by standing his ground, does what is most likely to draw an attack, what he is least capable of carrying off: he runs.
What this seems to be suggesting is that there is a kind of conversation or agreement between prey and predator, where the prey literally agrees to be killed.
Okay, look, you can convince me that there have been examples when a caribou “took one for the team” or whatever, but you’re really pushing it if you’re suggesting that this is fundamentally how nature works.
I’m not going to sleep well tonight.
