(from Nature 453, 826 (12 June 2008) — doi:10.1038/453826a; Published online 11 June 2008)
We’re all familiar with Pavlov’s conditioning experiments with dogs. Dogs were treated to an unconditioned stimulus — something to which they would normally respond with a specific behavior, in this case, meat juice which would cause them to drool. Then they were simultaneously exposed to the unconditioned stimulus and a new stimulus, the conditioned stimulus, that they would learn to associate with the tasty, drool-worthy stimulus — a bell. Afterwards, ringing a bell alone would cause the dogs to make the drooling response. The ability to make such an association is a measure of the learning ability of the animal.
Now…how do we carry out such an experiment on a cephalopod? And can it be done on a cephalopod with a reputation (perhaps undeserved, as we shall see) as a more primitive, less intelligent member of the clade?
The nautilus, Nautilus pompilius despite being a beautiful animal in its own right, is generally regarded as the simplest of the cephalopods, with a small brain lacking the more specialized areas associated with learning and memory. It’s a relatively slow moving beast, drifting up and down through the water column to forage for food. It has primitive eyes, which to visual animals like ourselves seems to be a mark of less sophisticated sensory processing, but it has an elaborate array of tentacles and rhinophores which it uses to probe for food by touch and smell/taste. Compared to big-eyed, swift squid, a nautilus just seems a little sluggish and slow.
So let’s look and see how good a nautilus’s memory might be. First, we need a response to stimuli that we can recognize and measure, equivalent to the drooling of Pavlov’s dogs. While they don’t measurably salivate, the nautilus does have a reaction to the hint of something tasty in the water — it will extend its tentacles and rhinophores, as seen below, in a quantifiable metric called the tentacle extension response, or TER.
It’s another transitional form, this time an amphibian from the Permian that shares characteristics of both frogs and salamanders — in life, it would have looked like a short-tailed, wide-headed salamander with frog-like ears, which is why it’s being called a “frogamander”.
We mammals have been beaten again. Shrimp have more sophisticated eyes than we do, with the ability to see things we can’t, and I’m feeling a bit envious.
But at least it is locomotion with style.