Imagine a thrilling contest that pits humans against lions to determine which is truly more fearsome. It may sound like an epic battle in the Colosseum, but last year, a team of scientists led by ecologist Liana Zanette from the University of Western Ontario organized this unconventional matchup for scientific purposes. The goal was not to settle a childhood argument about the outcome of a deadly fight, but rather to understand the extent of fear elicited by each species in other animals.
The question of fear is far from trivial. Fear greatly influences animal behavior, and animal behavior, in turn, has profound implications for our world. While scientists are only beginning to comprehend the effects of fear, evidence suggests that a terrified animal will consume less food and reproduce less frequently compared to an unafraid counterpart. In addition to the numerous threats that endanger wildlife, our presence alone may be causing animals to have smaller population sizes due to fear. Therefore, it is crucial to gain a deeper understanding of the fear we instill in animals in order to mitigate its negative impacts and potentially even use it for positive purposes.
To achieve this, Zanette’s team embarked on a unique experiment in South Africa’s Greater Kruger National Park. They equipped 21 watering holes with automated speaker systems that played various sounds when thirsty animals approached. These sounds included the fierce snarls and growls of a lion pride, the tranquil murmurs of human conversations, gunshots, dog barks, and birdsong. Cameras recorded the animals’ reactions and the time it took for them to flee. The results, published in Current Biology, were astounding. Based on a data set of over 4,000 interactions, animals were twice as likely to flee when hearing a human voice compared to hearing lions or gunshots. Moreover, they left the watering hole 40 percent faster. The most remarkable finding was that this fear response was observed across 95 percent of species.
Watching the videos of these experiments feels like witnessing amusing TikTok pranks. In one clip, a herd of giraffes nonchalantly gathered around a watering hole until the moment the human voice filled the air. Instantly, they dispersed in a flurry of gangly sprints. In another video, a leopard dropped its prey and darted away upon hearing a woman speaking in Afrikaans. These videos offered intriguing insights. For instance, warthogs showcased their impressive speed, while rhinos displayed an unusual curiosity by pausing to identify the language before bounding off on their sturdy legs.
It’s important to note that the study’s conditions may not apply universally to all animal-human interactions. The disembodied human voices in the videos sounded surreal and almost otherworldly, which may have heightened the animals’ existential alarm. After all, if we were caught off guard by electronically modified foreign voices during a hike, we too would feel unsettled and perhaps inclined to flee.
The animals in the study may have been naturally predisposed to tension due to environmental factors. Oswald Schmitz, an ecology professor at Yale, explained that watering holes are inherently risky places where animals can feel vulnerable and easily startled. William Ripple, an ecology professor at Oregon State, added that high rates of poaching in Kruger National Park could contribute to animals’ skittishness. In North American national parks where poaching is minimal, large herbivores often move nearer to humans as a strategy to evade large carnivores—an action known as “human shielding.” Conversely, in areas where large herbivores are actively hunted, they exhibit a strong fear of humans. Animals, like humans, demonstrate intelligence, and their behavior is shaped by their surroundings.
Nonetheless, there is mounting evidence that animals, across various contexts, do fear humans. Justin Suraci, one of Zanette’s former graduate students, conducted a study on predator anxiety among badgers in England. Despite centuries of human persecution, badgers reacted more fearfully to the sounds of humans than to wolves or bears. Suraci also observed a similar response among mountain lions in California. When speakers played frog noises, the lions were unbothered. However, human noises elicited an almost immediate flight response.
While some of these findings may seem unsurprising (after all, has a frog ever killed a mountain lion?), they contribute to a larger body of research indicating that animals are actively avoiding human interactions. Tigers in Nepal, elephants in Mozambique, and boars in Poland have all shifted to more nocturnal lifestyles, reducing their encounters with humans. Such behavioral changes have significant repercussions within their respective ecosystems—a sobering realization given the global reach of humanity.
Zanette is uncertain whether these fears are learned within an individual animal’s lifetime or if they are genetically inherited through generations’ worth of experiences. Once again, context plays a crucial role. On the African Savannah, where wildlife has coevolved alongside crafty humans for an extended period, fears may be deeply ingrained in the minds and bodies of animals. If that is the case, evolution might require substantial time to reverse their programmed terror. In the meantime, there may be innovative ways to harness these anxieties for the greater good by leveraging humanity’s unique ability to repurpose elements of our environment. The fears we have instilled in animals have become part of our shared ecosystem, and it is possible to repurpose them to benefit animals and ecosystems as a whole.
For example, Zanette is conducting experiments with Florida’s shorebirds. These birds lay their eggs on narrow stretches of sand along the coast, and in recent years, coyotes and raccoons have been devastating their hatchlings, causing a decline in their population. Zanette and her team ran tests on these predators and found that humans provoke the greatest fear response. Consequently, the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission has requested the installation of speakers that emit human sounds at the crossing points where coyotes and raccoons access these vulnerable sand strips.
Zanette believes this is just the beginning and envisions numerous applications for this approach. Even in Kruger National Park, she imagines using the speaker systems not only to induce fear in animals but also to protect them. By playing recordings of human voices as an “audio fence,” rangers could redirect white rhinos away from areas most prone to poaching. While the presence of chattering humans may be unnerving, it is far less dangerous than silent threats lurking in the shadows.
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