and their   social  bonds,  hierarchies,    and interspecies    dynamics    became  a
source  of  fascination.    Inevitably  perhaps,    both    men began   to  identify    with
them.   “They   were    like    people  you meet    constantly  in  the street  without
knowing their   names,” wrote   Martin, “and    we  soon    began   to  look    on  them
as  neighbors.”^16  In  essence,    this    desolate    but surprisingly    lively  maze    of
boulder and scrub   was a   kind    of  communal    umwelt  and,    in  it, Martin  and
Korn     developed   a   sense   of  deep,   empathic    familiarity     with    their
cohabitants:    “We learnt  to  recognise   their   mood    and intentions  from    the
way they    held    their   heads,  or  set their   hooves.^17  We  got to  understand
them    and their   behaviour   as  you get to  understand  your    friends without
the need    of  speech....  The longer  we  lived   with    animals the clearer it
became   to  us  that    human   and     animal  behaviour   were    very    closely
related.”^18
Martin  was continually impressed   by  the subtlety    of  interaction and
awareness   he  witnessed   all around  him:    rival   zebra   stallions   spelling    each
other   at  the same    hole    as  they    pawed   away    stones  to  access  water;  an
ostrich hen spreading   her wings   to  block   the progress    of  other   ostriches
after   detecting   a   remote  hazard; a   baboon  dismantling a   pair    of  binoculars
by  carefully   unscrewing  all the component   parts;  a   hyena   giving  way to  a
leopard on  the trail   and,    once    the leopard was safely  past,   shrieking   and
yelping  after   it  like    a   coward  hurling     insults.    “It     struck  me,”    Martin
observed,   “that   the ‘all    too human’  behaviour   of  men was in  reality ‘all
too animal.’    ”
However,    Martin’s    most    surprising  discoveries concerned   the changes
taking  place   in  his own psyche: when    they    had first   descended   into    the
canyon, he  found   that    his dreams  focused on  the people  and places  he  had
left    behind. But as  the months  turned  into    years,  “Animals    began   to  play
an  increasing  part    in  them    and the distinction between human   beings  and
animals became  blurred.”^19    Martin’s    subconscious—his    interior    umwelt
—was    gradually   recalibrating   itself  to  match   his new,    if  atavistic,  reality.
It  was the kind    of  real-time   immersion   experiment  that    psychologists   and
anthropologists can only    dream   of, and it  may shed    some    light   on  why the
painted caves   of  southern    Europe  and the wall    art of  the Kalahari    are so
