Dmitri soaked up every bit of debate on these matters at the meeting in Edinburgh, and he enjoyed the sessions immensely, even if the speakers sometimes presented their work a bit quickly for someone whose first language wasn’t English. A good crowd showed up for his talk, The Role of Hereditary Reorganization of Behavior in the Process of Domestication. The title was tantalizing—hereditary reorganization of behavior? What was that about? And domestication of what? Had Russian scientists been producing noteworthy work now that Lysenko had been banished? What would this Russian be like?
Dmitri read a prepared speech in English, and Manning recalls that he impressed the crowd. They hadn’t known quite what to expect of him, but they hadn’t anticipated a man who was so dignified and assured. They also hadn’t expected anything like Mechta and her droopy ears. The results of the experiment in just over a decade were incredible.
Manning was so taken with Dmitri that he invited him to his home for dinner that night and had him shepherded over from the beautiful sixteenth-century Edinburgh student dormitory where he was staying. Belyaev’s English was good enough to read a speech, but fast-paced dinner conversation was another matter, so a translator joined the dinner party. Dmitri had been hoping that he might get such a chance for socializing, and he had brought along some traditional Russian gifts. Manning was touched when Dmitri presented him and his wife with some beautiful lacquer bowls. The Cold War had shut Russian scientists off from this kind of free and comfortable social interchange with their peers around the world, during which they engage in so much creative exchange of ideas, often leading to new avenues of exploration. That seemed a shame to Manning, sitting with this warm and intelligent man who was so interesting. They became friends, and as he had with Michael Lerner after meeting him at the International Genetics Congress in The Hague, Dmitri kept up a correspondence with Manning in the years ahead. Manning hoped that before too long, he could make a trip to Novosibirsk to see the remarkable fox-dogs for himself.
An important sign that the results of the fox experiment were being recognized by the scientific community in the West was that shortly after the meeting in Edinburgh, the directors at the Encyclopedia Britannica wrote to Belyaev to ask if he would contribute an essay on domestication for the forthcoming fifteenth edition, a massive revision, also known as Britannica 3, scheduled for publication in 1974. Dmitri was thrilled, and immediately began penning the essay, which appropriately enough appeared immediately after the entry “Dogs.”15
The study of links between genes and animal behavior was gaining speed in the 1970s, and the fox experiment work was at the forefront of this new wave of research. The first academic journal in the subject area, Behavior Genetics, had been founded in 1970 along with the creation of the Behavior Genetics Association, and in 1972, the Russian-born geneticist Theodosius Dobzhansky, whose work Dmitri knew well and who had emigrated to the US, was elected its first president. Russian genetics was most assuredly making a comeback, and Dmitri was acting as one of its leading ambassadors. In 1973, he was again allowed to attend the International Congress of Genetics, which was held at the University of California at Berkeley.
The meeting at Berkeley was both a scientific and cultural smorgasbord like Belyaev had never experienced before. As for the science, the meeting featured symposia, involving the world’s leading authorities, on everything from “Genetics and Hunger” to “Dilemma of Science and Morals” and, more in line with Dmitri’s own work, “Developmental Genetics” and “Behavior Genetics.”16 Everyone who was anyone in genetics research was there, and Belyaev had the chance to meet some of the most famous geneticists of the day and discuss his ideas with them. In between sessions and at night, the crowd enjoyed the hippy trippy street life of the town. Berkeley was a main hub of the student protests that rocked the nation, the epicenter of the Free Speech Movement, and freedom of expression was on display in all its glory. Street vendors, musicians, and jugglers competed for attention with hippies handing out protest pamphlets against everything from the Vietnam War to the nuclear arms race. Dmitri soaked it all in with great fascination, and he fondly told friends of Berkeley, which other attendees described as having “middle-class American youth garbed in saffron [who] danced to the repetitive beat of their Hari-Krishna celebration.”17
During the course of the meeting, he and others in the delegation of Soviet scientists who had been allowed to attend decided to approach the organizing committee for the International Genetics Congress with an idea. Belyaev’s administrative experience at the Institute made him the perfect leader of their effort. They proposed that the next International Genetics Congress, set for 1978, take place in Moscow. The organizing committee was intrigued. They were always looking for ways to make the International Congress of Genetics even more international, and Moscow would certainly do that. The policy of détente between the US and its allies and the Soviet Union, which had been instituted by President Richard Nixon in the early 1970s, had also made it possible to hold such a gathering behind the Iron Curtain. Having the meeting in Moscow would expose many geneticists to a group of scientists, and a scientific literature, they knew too little about. The idealists on the committee also dreamt that such a meeting might have ramifications beyond science: that perhaps this sort of reaching out might in some small way cool down the Cold War. And the committee was very sympathetic to the idea that holding the meeting in Moscow would show the world that the evils of Lysenkoism were a thing of the past.18
It was an ambitious undertaking, but, yes, the committee told Belyaev and his delegation: if you want to host the 1978 meeting in Moscow, we approve. Immediately Belyaev donned yet another title: Secretary General of the XIV International Genetics Congress to be held in Moscow.
THE NEW EXPERIMENTAL FOX FARM HAD ALLOWED Dmitri and Lyudmila to accomplish so much in just a few years. Lyudmila was observing the foxes much more closely through the whole course of the year and she felt her already intense bond with them strengthening. Deep inside, she knew that something was different. The emotional changes, the depth of feeling that these foxes began to express, and that they inspired in her and the caretakers, and anyone who visited the farm, could not be ignored.
It wasn’t just the scientist in Lyudmila that was amazed by the increasingly adorable animals, but the human being. And that, she realized, was an important finding of its own, and surely part of the story of how dogs became so strongly domesticated, so bonded to us and intensely loyal to “their people.” What if, she thought, I switch gears, and instead of resisting the animals’ increasing charms, allow myself to explore just how far I could take these animals down the road of emotional expressiveness toward humans?
For a long time now she had pondered the limitations of the careful scientific data she and her team collected; it could tell her only so much. If she really wanted to know just how much social and emotional depth these tame foxes were capable of, she would have to give one of them the opportunity to live in the rich social environment of a home, with humans as its closest companions. Like dogs live. If the foxes were to truly become like dogs, they would have to develop the signature loyalty to their people that dogs show. While there was no question that the elites foxes had become intensely enamored of human attention, as of yet, they didn’t differentiate between people. They were equally happy to see all humans. Maybe that would change if a fox was actually living with her.
She made a bold proposal to Belyaev. There was a little house off one corner of the fox farm. She told him that she would like to move into that house with one of the elite foxes to see what bonds might develop. He loved the idea and right away got her the authorization to use the house.
Lyudmila wanted to choose the fox she would bring to live with her very carefully. She decided that she would select an especially affectionate female elite as the “Eve” for the experiment, to give birth to the fox she would move into the house with her. By this time many of the elite females were good candidates, but this was a uniqu
e experiment, and she wasn’t about to rush into a choice. She pored over her notes and charts of data, evaluating the combined information about the elite females’ stress hormone levels and behavior, electing a set of top candidates. She then went to their sheds and observed them closely, assessing them anew. After many days of this evaluation, she had her fox.
Her name was Kukla, which in Russian means “little doll.” She was one of a handful of tame females who had become fertile (but not pregnant) twice during a year, and there was something especially beguiling about her. When Lyudmila approached her cage, Kukla would spring to life, emphatically wiggling her tail and squealing with what could only be described as sounds of pure delight. “She is asking for it,” Lyudmila thought. The only problem was that Kukla was tiny for an adult female. She had been the runt of her litter, and Lyudmila wondered if she shouldn’t select a fox of sturdier stock. In the end, she went with her gut. Kukla it was.
The father would be a fox named Tobik, a tame fox of the same generation as Kukla. They mated successfully and seven weeks later, on March 19, 1973, little Kukla gave birth to four healthy pups—two males and two females. As soon as they had fully opened their eyes Lyudmila went to see them. She found several of the caretakers crowded around them, doting over them like they were their own children and grandchildren.
Right away Lyudmila was drawn to one pup, who was such a puffy little wonder of fur that the workers had named her Pushinka, which translates to “tiny ball of fuzz.” As Lyudmila kept observing her over the next few days, she saw that Pushinka was intensely solicitous of human attention. Pushinka was already creating such a powerful sense of connection with people that she seemed the perfect choice as Lyudmila’s housemate. And, in this one case, because Pushinka was going to live with Lyudmila in a special experimental house, the workers knew it was okay to give in and play with her to their heart’s delight.
During the next few weeks, as Pushinka grew stronger and more rambunctious, one of the caretakers, Uri Kyselev, grew especially fond of the adorable little pup, and he made a surprising request. He asked Lyudmila if he could take Pushinka home to live with him for a while, before Lyudmila moved her into the little house for the longer-term living experiment. Lyudmila thought about this and decided that it wouldn’t interfere with her plan; in fact, this would allow her to see whether Pushinka would form a special bond with whatever person she was living closely with. Uri and Pushinka lived together at his house, just the two of them, from April 21, when she was one month old, until June 15, 1973. Pushinka adjusted wonderfully, giving Uri no problems. He even began taking her out for walks on a leash. He also found that he could let her out in the back yard, off leash, and she would come bounding right over to the door and come back inside when he whistled. This responsiveness to being called had never been seen with the foxes—quite the contrary. When on occasion a tame fox on the farm had broken free from a caretaker on the way to playtime or while being examined, the caretakers would call to them, but they’d never responded this way. Getting them back required much chasing around the farm, and a couple of them escaped the farm and ran away. Pushinka’s behavior on this front was a great indication that Lyudmila had selected well and that her upcoming house experiment held more surprises in store.
With so many discoveries being made about Pushinka already, Lyudmila had decided that she would wait a little longer still to move Pushinka into the experimental house so that she could observe how Pushinka would reintegrate into the farm fox society after living with Uri. Would she adjust to sharing her life with foxes again, or would the experience of living one on one with a human have changed her behavior with foxes? Wild animals brought into human society often have trouble integrating back into life with their own species. Lyudmila thought this was a good opportunity to observe how Pushinka would manage the transition and how the other foxes would respond to her. While she observed that Pushinka had no trouble interacting normally with the other foxes after she returned, she did demonstrate one striking change in her relations with them. If one of the other foxes was being aggressive toward her during playtime in the yard, as the fox pups often did with one another as they got older, Pushinka would seek the protection of the caretakers, hovering around their legs and keeping them between herself and the other fox. This was another first. Up to then, the foxes had managed their interactions with one another entirely between themselves.
Given that Lyudmila’s primary aim of her planned house living experiment was to see how much like a dog Pushinka might learn to be from spending more time with people, she decided that it would be fine for the caretakers to take Pushinka for walks with them on a leash, as Uri had. Pushinka loved this. Knowing how obediently she had come for Uri when he called her, Lyudmila also allowed the caretakers to let her out without a leash, and she would follow them around as they did their feeding and cleaning.
Lyudmila now decided to update her plan for Pushinka again. Before long, with Pushinka closing in on one year old, it would be mating time, and Lyudmila decided to wait until Pushinka became pregnant before moving her into the experimental house. Then not only could she observe how Pushinka would adjust, but also whether her litter of pups would socialize differently.
On February 14, 1974, Pushinka mated with a tame male named Julsbar and, at long last, on March 28, 1974 she and Lyudmila moved into the little house. An unprecedented study in the history of animal behavior was about to begin.
5
Happy Family
Lyudmila’s plan for living with Pushinka was to spend most of her days and nights at the little house with her, but so that she could also have some time with her human family, she arranged for her long-time assistant and friend, Tamara, along with a young graduate student, to help out by taking over some days and nights. Marina, Lyudmila’s teenage daughter, and research assistants from the Institute would also occasionally work shifts if neither Tamara nor Lyudmila could be there. Whoever was on shift would make detailed journal entries throughout the day and evening about all aspects of Pushinka’s behavior.
The first tense day in the house, when Pushinka paced around so anxiously and refused to eat, was unnerving for Lyudmila. Given how smoothly Pushinka had adjusted to living with Uri, Lyudmila had expected she’d have an easier transition. Maybe she was tense because she was pregnant? At least she’d comforted herself by sleeping for a while next to Lyudmila’s daughter, Marina, and Marina’s friend, who were there for move-in day. The next day, Pushinka was less agitated. After Lyudmila had stepped out for a moment, and then returned, Pushinka “met us at the door,” Lyudmila jotted down, “like our dog,” but her mood swung wildly from happy playfulness to listlessness, and she was still refusing to eat. All she had that day was a bit of raw egg. When Lyudmila offered her some chicken legs, one of her favorite snacks, Pushinka hid them in the corner of her room, a behavior familiar to dog owners. She wouldn’t spend any time in her den and again hardly slept.
On the third day, Pushinka was still not eating or sleeping normally, and Lyudmila was getting quite worried. Pushinka paced restlessly around the house still spending no time in her den. She did seem to be taking comfort at Lyudmila’s presence and she was increasingly seeking her attention. When Lyudmila sat down to work at the desk in her room, Pushinka came and lay down on the couch placed by the bed, finally getting some more rest.
Lyudmila was relieved and delighted when after yet another restless day of not eating, on the fourth night, Pushinka quietly jumped up on the bed while Lyudmila slept and curled up beside her. When Lyudmila woke, Pushinka scooched up closer to her head, placing her face right up next to Lyudmila’s, and when Lyudmila put an arm under Pushinka’s head, Pushinka rested her two front paws on it, cuddling like a child in its mother’s arms. Finally, she seemed to feel at home.
But the following day Lyudmila was surprised to find that Pushinka was emotionally overwrought again, so much so that Lyudmila wrote in the journal that she seemed to be “at the edge of a nervous br
eakdown.” It had now been five days, and she was still eating hardly anything at all. Lyudmila was now very concerned, and she called the farm’s vet, who gave Pushinka a glucose and vitamin injection. Thinking that perhaps having her male mate with her would sooth Pushinka, Lyudmila had Julsbar brought to the house, but while he seemed delighted to see Pushinka, the feelings were not mutual. Pushinka screamed at him and chased him around the house, biting him several times. Lyudmila had him taken away immediately.
Dmitri was concerned by the news about how Pushinka was behaving, and he came to the house to check on her. Something about his presence seemed to calm her, and that day for the first time during the normal daytime rest period, she lay down at Lyudmila’s feet as she worked at her desk and seemed content. That night, she finally began eating normally. The adjustment had been more traumatic than expected, but from that day on, Pushinka lived happily in the house, sleeping and eating normally and forming a stronger and stronger bond with Lyudmila.
Pushinka lay by Lyudmila’s feet while she worked at her desk, and she loved for Lyudmila to play with her and take her for walks around the area. A favorite game was when Lyudmila would hide a treat in her pocket and Pushinka would try to snatch it out. Just as dog puppies love to do, Pushinka loved to playfully bite Lyudmila’s hands, never hard enough to hurt. She also enjoyed lying on her back, paws in the air, inviting Lyudmila to pet her belly. She usually slept in her den, but some nights she would sneak up onto the bed with Lyudmila.
In the evenings, after an afternoon of rest, she was especially rambunctious and would pester Lyudmila to play with her, tossing around a ball on the floor, presenting her belly for a rub, or running over to her with a bone in her mouth. Out in the yard behind the house, Pushinka would sometimes take a ball in her mouth, trot over to a part of the yard that was elevated, release the ball and chase after it as it rolled down the slope. Again, and again, and again. When Lyudmila let her out in the yard, she’d always come bounding right back inside when Lyudmila called her. Just like a dog.
How to Tame a Fox (and Build a Dog) Page 10
