Animals and Psychedelics Read online

  Pheromones similar in structure to nepetalactones are present in the urine of male cats. This may well be why cats respond to catnip with behavior that is sexual in nature. But cats drugged on Nepeta cataria also seem to experience actual hallucinations. They have been observed grabbing at nonexistent things, playing with phantom butterflies apparently fluttering about them in the air, and lowering their ears to pounce on invisible mice. Some become fearful and defensive, hissing at nonexistent threats.

  Another herb that exerts a psychoactive effect on cats is common valerian, a medicinal plant utilized by humans since antiquity as a sedative, antispasmodic, and mild narcotic. By the 1800s we find references to it as an herb for cats as well. The Neapolitan doctor Raffaele Valieri, for example, reported that “when a sack of valerian is scattered on the earth, it is a curious and enjoyable spectacle to watch cats approach it: they roll on top of it, inhale it repeatedly, and finally begin to tremble, their fur standing on end, then leap about disjointedly, making a thousand dancing gestures of unbridled, drunken bliss, and finally losing their senses and falling into a doze, remaining excited and dazed for a long time. And this is an analogous phenomenon, similar to the trembling, intoxication, phantasmagoria, and stupefaction that hashish induces in man” (Valieri 1887, 16).

  Japanese cats enjoy a different drug, the tender leaves of a plant called matatabi, which produces compounds similar to nepetalactones. Matatabi exerts a wholly different effect than catnip on the creatures: after chewing its leaves, they stretch out on their backs with their paws up and remain motionless in this position for some time, in apparent or perhaps real ecstasy.

  Offering your own beloved cats a cat herb means giving them the chance for a relationship with their own particular ancestral plant, allowing them to intoxicate themselves at their own whim with a natural and healthy drug without any danger of chronic addiction. The rapport cats enjoy with catnip, valerian, and related plants is a naturally seasonal one, particularly heightened in the spring; they are not subject to crises of withdrawal during the lengthy periods of the year when the plants lose their efficacy as inebriants. We do so much—at times the most absurd things—to procure happiness for ourselves. Yet so little suffices—a small plant on the windowsill of an urban apartment—to bring joy to our feline friends.

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  Mushroom-Loving Reindeer and Craving Caribou

  A long-famous case of animals addicted to the use of a psychoactive drug is that of Siberian reindeer, who feed on the hallucinogenic fungus Amanita muscaria, or fly agaric. This is the hallucinogenic mushroom par excellence, the beautiful mushroom of fairy tales whose bright red cap is sprinkled with white spots. The origins of its use as a hallucinogen by human beings is lost in the dawn of time; archeological and ethnographic data have confirmed the early spread of this practice throughout Asia, Europe, and the Americas (Samorini 2001).

  Fly agaric grows under certain types of trees, particularly conifers and birches. During the Siberian summer, the reindeer feed on a variety of mushrooms, among other things, but their favorite by far is the fly agaric found in birch forests. They hunt specifically for this showy fungus, seeking it out for the inebriation it provides them. After they have eaten it they run around aimlessly, make strange noises, twitch their heads, and isolate themselves from the rest of the herd. The tiniest bite of fly agaric induces in these reindeer a marked condition of intoxication characterized, above all, by continual head twitching, one of the most widespread manifestations of inebriation in all animals.

  It is well known that the urine of humans who have eaten fly agaric becomes in itself hallucinogenic. Among some Siberian populations it was customary to drink the urine of those who had drugged themselves with the mushroom to attain an even greater degree of intoxication, reputedly more powerful than that achieved by eating the mushroom itself. Even reindeer “go mad” for the urine of other reindeer or human beings who have ingested the hallucinogen. In fact, it would seem that the Siberian peoples discovered its inebriating properties by observing the behavior of the reindeer. Anytime these creatures scent fungus-rich urine in the vicinity, they make a mad dash for it, engaging in real battles among themselves as they vie for the positions closest to the “golden shower.”

  Squirrels and chipmunks seek out fly agaric as well, nibbling at it and becoming intoxicated. This is probably also true, as we shall see later, of ordinary flies.

  Other great seekers of the mushroom high are Canadian caribou. During their migrations these animals move in a long, single-file column. When the colony passes a cluster of Amanita muscaria, female adults feed on it greedily. Within the course of one or two hours, they abandon the column entirely, running about awkwardly and shaking their heads and hindquarters from side to side. Such behavior carries a certain cost for the herd as a whole, since mothers in their hallucinatory seizures temporarily abandon their young, leaving them unprotected, so that they often fall victim to wolves. Even the adult caribou, once isolated from their peers and made ungainly by their drugged condition, become frequent prey to the waiting wolves (Siegel 1989, 66–67).

  A variety of animals feed on diverse psilocybin mushrooms, most commonly on Psilocybe and Panaeolus, which are popularly known as funghetti by young Italians who seek them out for their hallucinogenic effects (Pagani 1993).

  Siegel relates having seen dogs in Hawaii and Mexico deliberately nipping the caps off psilocybin mushrooms and swallowing them. After only a few minutes the creatures were running in circles, shaking their heads, howling and barking, and refusing to obey human commands (Siegel 1989, 68). Although it is unclear whether the dogs were conscious of what would happen to them after ingestion of the mushrooms, there is no such question about intentionality in the case of goats. These peculiar ruminants seem to enjoy absolute supremacy in the animal world as far as their passion for disparate drugs is concerned.

  In the course of my field research on the hallucinogenic mushrooms growing in Italy’s alpine meadows (Samorini 1993), I have personally observed on several occasions the greed with which goats will devour the species Psilocybe semilanceata. Once I was actually assaulted by a large billy goat, which gave me a shove with his powerful horns while I was bent over to observe some funghetti. He was one of the more massive animals in a herd of about fifty that was rambling by me. Trusting in their harmlessness (though aware of their curiosity), I simply continued gathering the mushrooms. When I saw that several goats had stopped to watch me, I smiled at them ingenuously and showed them the bunch of mushrooms I had just harvested. The moment I did so, the buck leaped forward and shoved me sharply with his horns, causing me to roll several feet down the slope. During my tumble the paper bag holding the mushrooms I had collected fell out of my hand. Surprised and frightened, I remained at a distance from the buck, who, with several other goats, threw himself on the sack and devoured its contents. When it was empty, the animals began rooting through the grass, gobbling up all the mushrooms I had not yet collected.

  Ever since, when I’ve encountered a bunch of goats, I’ve followed the advice of a knowledgeable goatherd and brandished my stick on high; it is the only way to stop them. And when I stumble onto a psilocybin site already claimed by goats, I make no attempt to drive them off—partly out of respect for them, but partly from fear of being attacked by animals already under the influence of this powerful drug and therefore doubly recalcitrant and dangerous.

  Once they locate a cluster of psilocybin mushrooms, goats will not eat grass or any other kind of fungus, feeding exclusively on their drug of choice. It seems clear that they know how to recognize it and that they search it out for its psychoactive effects. Goats under its influence exhibit overstimulated behavior, run about awkwardly, and shake their heads wildly back and forth.

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  Galloping Goats

  There is a widespread tale in Ethiopia regarding the origin of coffee, which credits the discovery of its stimulating properties to a goatherd who happened to notice the bizarre behavior o
f his goats after they had browsed on coffee berries.

  “Kaldi knew that something was wrong with the goats. During the hot days on the Ethiopian highlands they leaped around the rocks, climbing impossible slopes, then descending in controlled slides and falls. At sunset they usually slept, lying with outstretched limbs, motionless as the mountain itself. Tonight they gamboled uncontrollably, bleating and chasing one another as their eyes darted in all directions. . . . Kaldi noticed that the goats paused only to nibble the red berries from a nearby shrub, then continued to prance in the moonlight. The goats often behaved in unexpected ways, hence their flighty or capricious reputation, but Kaldi had never seen them approach this plant. He knew that the goats always test their food by scent and taste and prefer familiar foods. They especially like leaves; but strange berries? (Siegel 1989, 39).”

  According to the story, Kaldi’s curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to taste some of the red berries for himself. So it was that a simple goatherd discovered coffee and its invigorating and stimulating effects.

  This popular tale, handed down in the guise of a legend, reflects a truth about the tendency of goats to deliberately nibble coffee berries for the stimulating effects they induce. These days such behavior is held strictly in check by farmers, who are extremely careful not to let domestic goats wreak havoc in their coffee plantations. And since both wild goats and wild coffee plants have all but disappeared, chances to observe the animals’ “speedy” behavior have become increasingly rare.

  In Ethiopia and Yemen, however, goats still go wild for khat (Catha edulis, from the family of Celastraceae), a plant with euphoric and stimulant properties chewed on a daily basis by millions of human inhabitants of those regions. The heavenly effects of this shrub, aptly called “flower of paradise,” seem also to have been discovered by humans through herders’ intimate connections with their flocks of goats. One Yemenite tale relates that the legendary goatherd Awzulkernayien noticed one of his animals wandering off from the herd one day and later running back to rejoin it with unprecedented swiftness. Awzulkernayien observed his doe goat’s strange behavior for several days in a row until his curiosity was so piqued that he followed her. He discovered that she was wandering off from the others to nibble on the leaves and buds of a khat bush. Deciding to try them himself, he discovered their euphoric and rejuvenating effects and from that day forth never ceased to chew them.

  Modern cultivators of khat are well aware that if a goat is given the chance to approach and browse on the flower of paradise, it will cease feeding on other plants altogether and will charge, butt, and kick anyone who tries to separate it from its “heaven.”

  The red bean or mescal bean—actually the seed of the leguminous evergreen shrub Sophora secundiflora—is a famous hallucinogen that has been used since antiquity by some tribes of Plains Indians in the course of their religious ceremonies. It is an extremely dangerous drug, however, containing cytisine and other alkaloids similar to nicotine; improper dosage can swiftly prove fatal. Perhaps for this reason, it was eventually supplanted in ceremonial use by the safer and more visionary peyote cactus. Archeological findings point to a continuity of use of Sophora secundiflora dating back at least 9000 years. Anthropologists suggest that Native Americans may have discovered its hallucinogenic effects by observing the bizarre behavior of animals who fed on it.

  Siegel reports: “When I borrowed several goats from a nearby ranch and allowed them to graze near the red bean shrubs, I observed that a few goats were doing the same thing—trembling, falling, arising, and later browsing the plant again. They continued to fall and rise throughout the day, Mexican jumping beans in the hot Texas sun. Later I found that the hard-coated red beans that passed into their droppings were bruised sufficiently to allow for a partial release of the alkaloids. . . . It was getting dark and time for the animals to rest when I saw that the affected goats isolated themselves from the others. Meanwhile, my packhorses had already discovered the shrubs and were busily tearing into them. I rushed to pull them away. They reared and bucked with excitement. I managed to tie all but one of them to a safe tree. He ran to a nearby hill where he stayed all night, continually walking and tossing his head. At daybreak I awoke to find him back at the red bean shrub. . . . I was astonished by this persistence for intoxication (Siegel 1989, 55–56).”

  6

  Birds on a Binge

  The most famous example of collective drunkenness in birds is that of American robins during their annual February migration to California, and in particular to the small town of Pleasant Hill. The amazing behavior of these birds on their arrival first made news in the 1930s.

  Once they reach California, flocks of thousands of robins (the species Turdus migratorius) perch on small ornamental trees popularly known as California holly, though the Native Americans of the region call this scarlet fruit toyon. At this time of year the trees are laden with scarlet fruits called Christmas or holly berries. The robins, and other kinds of birds as well, gorge themselves on these fruits, bingeing until they are blatantly drunk. For about three weeks this region unintentionally hosts what can only be called a drunken orgy on the part of the birds, who become disoriented and confused, engaging in silly games with each other and fluttering wildly into cars and houses.

  Ronald K. Siegel, who has studied this phenomenon with great attention, notes that although four or five holly berries would suffice to make a full meal, a single robin will gobble down as many as thirty at a time. Clearly the purpose of such gorging transcends simple nutrition; it would seem conclusive that the birds recognize and remember the fruit and seek out the intoxication induced by eating massive doses of it. In his book Intoxication: Life in Pursuit of Artificial Paradise, Siegel describes the behavior of a flock of about three thousand American robins after their arrival in Pleasant Hill. Excerpts from his observations follow.

  “They quickly work their way to the outermost branches which begin to sag under their collective weight. As the branches wobble, so do the birds and they [the birds] start falling. Four birds are staggering on the ground, unable to fly. . . . [Now] there are eighteen birds on the ground. Several are still grasping berries in their beaks. A lone starling pilfers a berry right out of the locked beak of a robin. . . . A group of birds on the start of another feeding frenzy flies directly into my head and body. . . . I am driving in low gear to the edge of the field. There are thumps against the roof, then a robin smashes into the windshield. . . . Several birds are stunned momentarily when they fly into the windows and sides of houses. On the side of the road I find four more birds that have been killed in collisions with cars. . . . I performed autopsies on the dead birds. [They] revealed that the stomach, and sometimes the throat, of every bird was full of toyon berries, accounting for approximately 5 percent of their total body weight. Neither the stomach contents nor the berries themselves showed evidence of fermentation or alcohol. . . . Death was caused by a massive trauma inflicted by the collisions, secondary to an unknown intoxication (Siegel 1989, 58–59).”

  Apparently, then, there have been no true cases of overdose in the robins and other birds who get high on the holly berries, and the only fatalities—very few, statistically speaking—are due to the presence of human beings: their cars, windows, and random acts of brutality. The local press, which almost every year dedicates a paragraph or two to the bizarre behavior of the migrating robins, frequently refers to the deaths of birds who have flown into cars or houses as “suicides,” a misnomer and completely erroneous interpretation of the facts.

  During the same time period and in the same region of California, birds become intoxicated on the fruits of yet another shrub, Pyracantha, a member of the rose family popularly known as firethorn. In this case, the birds act “like winged clowns: flying, falling, and hopping about in the most erratic, albeit entertaining, ways. Some were found fluttering in the dirt with wings awry, teasing backyard cats. Others teetered on window ledges and pecked at their reflections. Because firetho
rns were often planted near homes and roads, collisions with windows and cars were reported more frequently than with toyon (Siegel 1989, 60).”

  The bark of the toyon tree was used by the native tribes of California for tanning and its fruits were roasted and eaten or brewed to make an intoxicating cider. However, it is not yet known precisely which substances in these sour, scarlet fruits are responsible for their inebriant effects on birds or humans, who have sometimes experienced delirium and visions after drinking toyon cider. Possibly they are due to the presence of psychoactive saponins, since another case of collective drunken bird binges relates to Tartarian honeysuckle, a source of similar saponins. Tartarian honeysuckle, Lonicera tatarica, is a shrub native to Asia but widely cultivated along the eastern coast of the United States. In this case as well, robins are the birds most attracted by its intoxicating berries.

  In 1926 J. Grinnell observed the behavior of these birds in his garden: “There were dozens of robins on the bushes and everywhere on the ground. They appeared tame and dazed. Some lay on the earth in the dirt with their wings awry. I regretted the fact that their condition rendered the birds unusually easy to catch by our cat, who seemed to know very well that he could catch one any time he felt like it.” This avian disruption peaks in June when the plant’s berries are ripest and most colorful.