\n\n“Whether or not octopuses are intentionally hurling objects at each other \u2014 and whether or not we can really call it \u201cthrowing\u201d \u2014 the study shows that octopuses can use their siphon in clever ways: to move debris, arrange a den, and perhaps even send a signal to other animals, including us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Does that mean they\u2019re even more intelligent than we thought?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The question itself is fraught, as it suggests that there\u2019s some universal idea of what it means to be intelligent. In our assessment of animals, intelligence is often measured using a human yardstick, as the primatologist Frans de Waal writes in his book Are We Smart Enough to Know How Smart Animals Are?<\/em><\/a> \u201c<\/em>Every species deals flexibly with the environment and develops solutions to the problems it poses,\u201d he writes. \u201cEach one does it differently.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Octopuses, for one, are nothing like us. In fact, \u201cwhen our two branches of the animal family tree diverged, backbones hadn\u2019t been invented,\u201d as Elizabeth Preston wrote<\/a> in the New York Times. \u201cIt makes sense to be cautious when we guess what\u2019s going on in these animals\u2019 minds.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n There is a benefit to our obsession with octopus intelligence: We show them more respect and compassion, which has implications for wildlife conservation, experts say. \u201cYou probably won\u2019t conserve what you don\u2019t respect,\u201d Mather says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then again, what makes octopuses so marvelous is just how different from us they are. Case in point: Each of their eight tentacles has roughly 300 suckers, and each of those can have as many as 10,000 or so sensory neurons, allowing them to perceive touch and taste. \u201cIt\u2019s alien,\u201d Grasso said. \u201cIt isn\u2019t human.\u201d”<\/p>\n\n\n\n