— A Walk Through Joy, Play, and Emotion in the Wild
🐶 A Puppy, a Slope, and a Question
Last Tuesday, while I was sipping filter kaapi near the noisy bustle of Shivajinagar, a puppy rolled down a slope in Cubbon Park, yelped in surprise, scrambled up—and then did it again. Voluntarily. Three more times.
I watched, fascinated, while its siblings joined in, chasing leaves and one another in dizzy spirals. It was pure, uninhibited chaos. But more than that—it looked like joy.
And that got me thinking:
Can animals laugh?
Do they play just for fun?
Is joy something only humans feel—or is it echoing in the branches above us and under our feet too?
Let’s go on a little walk. Past the science textbooks, into the trees, through the meadows, and across oceans—where laughter might not always sound like ours, but might still shimmer with meaning.
🎈 What Is Laughter, Anyway?
Before we ask if animals can laugh, we should pause to ask what laughing is.
Is it just a sound—a ha-ha or a snort? Or is it a signal, a shared understanding that something is safe, or silly, or surprising?
In humans, laughter has layers.
There’s the belly-laugh that leaves you gasping during a stand-up set.
The polite chuckle in an awkward meeting.
The relieved giggle after a jump scare.
And the mischievous cackle when someone says, “Dare you to touch that frog.” (Looking at you, Shalini.)
But underneath it all, laughter is social glue. It’s a cue:
“We’re safe. We’re playing. I’m not a threat.”
And that’s where it gets interesting.
🐵 Tickled Apes and Snorting Rats
Scientists, being the curious creatures they are, decided to tickle animals. Yes, tickle. Not as a prank, but as an experiment in joy.
Primatologist Jaak Panksepp (who pioneered the study of emotional systems in mammals) led fascinating studies where lab rats were gently tickled by researchers. What did they find?
The rats emitted high-frequency chirps—beyond human hearing—every time.
When the tickling stopped, they chased the researcher’s hand, wanting more.
Tickling, it seems, wasn’t just tolerated.
It was welcomed. The rats liked it.
They even bonded with the researcher who tickled them.
Frans de Waal, the Dutch primatologist, also observed laughter-like responses in chimps and bonobos—those breathy panting sounds during wrestling or tickle play.
Robert Provine, a neuroscientist who studied the origins of laughter, suggested that laughter evolved long before language—as a primal social tool.
Then there are the apes.
Chimpanzees, bonobos, and gorillas have all been observed making panting, breathy noises during play—especially while wrestling or chasing one another. These sounds don’t mimic our laughter exactly, but they serve a similar purpose:
Signaling that “This is play, not a fight.”
Even dogs have something called a “play pant”—a kind of excited, breathy exhale they make when romping with other pups.
Play signals like this help prevent roughhousing from turning into real aggression.
So maybe laughter isn’t about jokes.
Maybe it’s about context.
Maybe it’s the sound of not being scared.
🎭 Play Is Serious Business
Ravi Uncle, my neighbor and unofficial science philosopher, once said,
“Play is nature’s rehearsal space.”
I was 14, covered in mud from a monsoon puddle-jump, and slightly offended. But he was right.
Play teaches animals motor skills, social cues, and boundaries.
Kittens practice hunting by pouncing on tails.
Lion cubs test dominance by wrestling.
Even octopuses have been observed playing with floating toys in aquariums—repeatedly pushing objects around with their arms, sometimes changing color as they do it.
But here’s the thing:
Not all play is about survival skills.
Some play seems utterly… pointless. Joyfully so.
Like dolphins blowing air rings just to swim through them.
Or elephants sliding down muddy riverbanks.
Or crows tobogganing on rooftops using bottle caps.
Play, it seems, isn’t always preparation.
Sometimes, it’s celebration.
And doesn’t that sound familiar?
Like toddlers spinning in circles in a garden until they fall over, giggling.
Or my niece Shalini squealing with delight while chasing soap bubbles that she knows will pop.
Their play, like the crows on the roof, seems to say:
“Look! I’m alive. Isn’t that enough?”
❤️ Do Animals Feel Emotion?
This is where some scientists get squeamish.
The idea that animals can feel in ways like humans—especially complex emotions like joy or empathy—has long been debated.
For centuries, people argued that animals were just instinctive machines, reacting without thought or feeling.
But how do you explain:
– An elephant mourning its dead, standing vigil with its trunk gently brushing the bones?
– A magpie laying flowers beside a fallen comrade?
– The pariah dog who waited at the same bus stop in Indiranagar every evening after its elderly owner passed away—ears perked, tail hopeful—until the monsoons came?
Frans de Waal argues that primates feel empathy, console each other, and even laugh—not metaphorically, but literally.
Marian Stamp Dawkins, a pioneering ethologist, has long advocated that animals are conscious beings capable of suffering—and possibly, joy.
Skeptics argue that what looks like play might simply be practice for survival—no emotion involved.
But isn’t that true for us too?
We rehearse, role-play, joke—all while learning how to belong.
Emotion, it seems, is not the exclusive property of our species.
Maybe it never was.
🧠 Brainwaves of Joy
Okay, but let’s get a little sciency (don’t worry—I’ll keep it simple, yaar).
When humans laugh, certain areas in the brain light up—especially the limbic system (which governs emotion) and the prefrontal cortex (which helps us interpret social cues).
In studies where rats were tickled, similar regions in their tiny brains showed activity.
Dopamine—the “feel good” neurotransmitter—spiked.
They even returned to places where they’d been tickled before, suggesting they remembered the joy.
And that’s key.
Because emotion isn’t just about reacting in the moment.
It’s about feeling something so deeply that your body and brain change in response—and seek that experience again.
🐦 Laughter Without Sound
Not all laughter is audible.
Sometimes it’s in the gleam of a crow’s eye.
The bounce of a baby goat.
The tumble of otters in a stream.
Did you know that kea parrots in New Zealand make a special “play call” that causes nearby keas to drop what they’re doing and join in the fun?
It’s like the avian version of “Tag, you’re it!”
Researchers found that just playing a recording of this sound made keas more playful—even if no other birds were visible.
Imagine if someone played the sound of laughter in your lane and suddenly half the neighborhood kids came out to play.
That’s the kind of contagion we’re talking about.
Is it laughter?
Not in the “ha-ha” sense.
But in the “come, let’s be silly together” sense?
Absolutely.
🌳 Joy Is Not a Luxury
Sometimes, when I talk about animal laughter or play, people ask:
“But isn’t that anthropomorphism?”
Aren’t we just projecting human feelings onto animals?
It’s a fair question.
But maybe the deeper risk is the opposite:
Assuming animals are joyless automatons simply because they don’t express emotions like we do.
Joy, play, curiosity—they aren’t evolutionary accidents.
They’re survival strategies.
A playful animal is often a learning animal.
A bonded animal is often a safer one.
A laughing animal is often saying,
“We’re okay. You’re okay. Let’s keep going.”
And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching monkeys on power lines or squirrels stealing my dosa crumbs, it’s this:
The world is more alive, more feeling, more playful than we give it credit for.
☕ One Last Thought Over Coffee
As I sit here finishing this piece with a fresh tumbler of kaapi and the distant honks of K.R. Market in the background, I wonder—
What if the laughter of the wild is not meant to be understood, but witnessed?
What if we’re not the only species that laughs at surprise or spins in circles for no reason?
What if, on a quiet morning in Lalbagh, while we sip our coffee and scroll through our phones,
a myna bird is laughing at us?
Not mockingly. Just joyfully.
Because the sun is out.
Because the wind is dancing.
Because life, even with all its sharp edges, still has room for play.
So… can animals laugh?
Maybe not like us.
But maybe—just maybe—
they laugh with us.
💬 If you’ve seen animals being playful or silly in ways that surprised you, tell me! I’d love to collect those moments. Drop a comment or share this story with someone who needs a smile today. Because joy, like laughter, grows when it’s shared.
📚 Related Reading
🔗 Will AI Ever Tell Us a Joke We Didn’t Teach It?
🔗 Do Oarfish Predict Earthquakes? A Deep Dive
🔗 Synesthesia: When You Can Taste Colors
🔗 Why the Universe Might Look Random—But Isn’t
🔗 Unveiling Nature’s Secret Cleanup Crew: Bacteria vs Plastic
We’d love to hear your thoughts. Let’s chat below!