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Eight arms, big brain: What makes cephalopods clever

Octopuses' astonishing mental skills might help us unearth the roots of intelligence – but first we need to understand what makes them so smart
[video_player id=”rQDziwp3″]Video: Octopus navigates maze to get food

Video: Octopuses show remarkable spatial abilities.

Not just a tentacular face
Not just a tentacular face
(Image: Chris Newbert/Minden Pictures/FLPA)

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Octopuses’ astonishing mental skills might help us unearth the roots of intelligence – but first we need to understand what makes them so smart

BETTY the octopus is curled up in her den, eyes half-closed and clutching a piece of red Lego like a child with a teddy bear. She is, says Kerry Perkins, cephalopod researcher at the Sea Life aquarium in Brighton, UK, much better behaved than some of the octopuses she has worked with. One used to short-circuit a light in its tank by squirting water at it, and would do so whenever the bulb was left on at night. Another made a bid for freedom via the aquarium drainage system, which it seemed to know headed straight out to sea. “Any octopus tank worth its salt has a way of stopping the octopus from escaping,” Perkins says as she adds two weights to the lid of Betty’s tank. “They love to explore.”

Aristotle once took this kind of curiosity as a sign that octopuses are stupid – after all, he pointed out, just waving your hands in their direction brings them close enough to catch. We now know that it is just one example of how smart they are. Between them, cephalopods, which also include squids, cuttlefish and nautiluses, can navigate a maze, use tools, mimic other species, learn from each other and solve complex problems. If the latest analyses are to be believed, these skills might show a rudimentary form of consciousness.

Cephalopods are the only invertebrates that can boast anything like this kind of mental prowess, and some of their more impressive tricks are shared with only the cleverest vertebrates, such as chimps, dolphins and crows. Yet they evolved along a completely separate path, from snail-like ancestors, and their brains look completely alien to our own (see “A brain apart”).

Understanding how these two very different pathways converged on the same amazing abilities therefore promises to get to the very root of intelligence. After 50 years of research, the latest anatomical studies are finally throwing up some insights, revealing what kind of architecture is necessary for complex behaviour. Some researchers, meanwhile, are examining the intriguing questions of when and why this kind of intelligence evolved, and which animals got there first.

Until recently, looking at the inner workings of cephalopod brains was impossible – the tools available couldn’t delve much deeper than basic anatomy. In the 1950s and 60s, renowned neurophysiologist J.Z.Young mapped the major lobes of the cephalopod brain and what they do. But without the means to study the brain at the level of individual nerve cells and connections, or to examine living ones, Young’s work ground to a halt in the 1980s. Still, it was not before he and others had noted several similarities between the cephalopod brain and those of intelligent vertebrates.

For one thing, the cephalopod brain is concentrated in the head, as opposed to the rope-ladders of nerve knots, or ganglia, that run the length of the bodies of their closest mollusc relatives. Like ours it is lateralised, meaning that it is split into two halves connected by a bundle of nerve fibres, and then divided into further specialised lobes. Also like the mammalian brain, some of these lobes are folded, greatly increasing surface area, and some regions have miniaturised neurons, enabling more of them to be packed in. The distance between neurons is also shorter than in other molluscs, allowing faster transmission of impulses through the brain. All this adds up to a brain that can process information rapidly, with plenty of room for memory storage.

Over the past few years researchers have delved deeper, adapting the latest techniques to study living brain tissue. And the closer they look at these strange minds, the more parallels they find with our own brains.

“The closer researchers look at these strange minds, the more parallels they find with our own brains”

, a neurophysiologist at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem in Israel, is at the forefront of this work. He recently adapted methods used to study live slices of vertebrate brains to keep samples of octopus brain alive in a bath of oxygenated salt water. He then passed electrical impulses through the tissue and recorded the routes they took.

Using this technique Hochner has found that neurons in the vertical lobe, long known to be the site of learning and memory in most cephalopods, are organised much like the vertebrate hippocampus, which does more or less the same job. Both have large numbers of input fibres from the senses, and these run at right angles across great swathes of smaller processing neurons, making lots of connections before converging on a narrower tract of output fibres (). Hochner also found that the octopus peduncle lobe and the vertebrate cerebellum, which both control movement, share a similar structure – they have lots of thin fibres lined up next to each other.

These similarities are fascinating when you consider that cephalopod neurons are much simpler than vertebrate brain cells: their synaptic connections involve fewer proteins, for example, and they lack a fatty myelin covering that in vertebrates helps to speed up signal transmission. All this suggests that when it comes to intelligent behaviour, it is the overall architecture of the brain that counts, not the building blocks. “It’s just a matter of how you construct the networks,” says Hochner.

Octopuses behaving badly

A criss-crossed system of nerve fibres and neurons might be the best way to facilitate complex learning and memory, for instance, since it maximises the number of synaptic connections involved in memory storage. The arrays of parallel fibres, meanwhile, might be the most efficient way to deal with lots of sensory information quickly, giving the creature better control of its movements.

It’s early days, but Hochner hopes to build on this work by watching learning and memory as it happens in the brain of a living octopus. “We don’t know in what forms this information is coded and treated and processed. This is something we would like to do more by doing recordings in the behaving animal,” he says.

This is no mean feat, however. Octopuses make it notoriously difficult to get recordings from electrodes inserted into the brain, because they can selectively shut off blood supply to an area of their body or brain. That’s if they allow the researchers to insert electrodes at all. , a cephalopod researcher at the City University of New York tells the story of one colleague who took on that challenge: “He thought the octopus was anaesthetised, so they put the electrode in and the octopus reached up with an arm and pulled it out.” That marked the end of his work with octopuses. “He has worked with lots of animals but he said ‘that animal knows what I’m thinking. He doesn’t want me to do this so I’m not going to’,” Basil says.

Basil’s colleague was joking, but some researchers strongly suspect that octopuses, and perhaps cuttlefish and squid, have a basic form of consciousness. The leading proponent of the idea is , a comparative psychologist at the University of Lethbridge in Alberta, Canada. Consciousness is difficult to define, but Mather says that if you consider it to be a notion of self in space and an ability to make decisions based on information from previous experience and the current situation, cephalopods pass with flying colours.

Experiments in the 1980s, for example, offered octopuses a tasty hermit crab with a stinging anemone on its back. Unlike other predators, the octopuses didn’t back off after the first sting. Instead they tried various strategies to get rid of the anemone: jetting water at it from their siphon, attacking from below, and attempting to delicately extract the crab with one tentacle. Octopuses show similar cunning when they are presented with a clam – they will often try to get at the meat inside by drilling a hole with their beak, before injecting a poison to stop the clam’s heart or disable the muscles that clamp the shell shut. “There is some evidence that the location of the hole that is drilled is learned – it is no use putting it in most places,” says Mather. “I think that this has to be ‘decision-making’.”

Inspired by these findings, Mather drew the latest results together in 2008, building a strong case for cephalopod consciousness (). She was able to include numerous other examples of the kinds of advanced abilities that might constitute conscious thought. Octopuses and cuttlefish can learn by observing each other, for example, something that suggests a notion of “self” and “other” and perhaps the ability to put themselves mentally in that position. Cuttlefish also seem able to send contradictory signals simultaneously: a male might show a courtship display to a female facing one side of his body and a “back off” display on the other to a challenging male, for example. At other times, a male might try to deceive his love-rivals by wearing a female-like pattern that leads the other males to believe he is no threat, as he edges closer to his mate. These look a lot like conscious decisions based on the information at hand.

More recent findings would seem to back up Mather’s conclusions. A 2009 study, for example, reported that veined octopuses (Amphioctopus marginatus) will hulk a heavy shell around all day in case it comes in handy for shelter later on (). This rare example of tool use suggests an ability to plan ahead, showing the kind of complex decision-making that defines consciousness. And a report last year showed an octopus mimicking the movements of a flounder to avoid the attention of predators, though it may just be an innate response The Biological Bulletin, vol 218, p 15).

“Veined octopuses will hulk a heavy shell around all day because they know it might come in handy for shelter”

Basil, who works mainly with nautiluses, says the behavioural evidence is “tantalising”. “Tool use and observational learning suggests to me that if you are able to look at another entity and know that it is ‘other’, then there’s likely to be a sense of self.” However, she warns that when a creature is so different to us, it is difficult to have any idea of what they are thinking, or even if they are thinking at all.

To get round this, Basil plans to look for direct physical evidence of consciousness in the brain itself. “We have mirror neurons, which we use to infer emotional states of others – to infer what is going on in another’s brain. If we can find something equivalent in cephalopods that would be a good piece of evidence to start with,” she says. Mirror neurons seem to fire both when an animal observes another individual performing an action and when it performs the action itself. Basil plans to start looking for this kind of activity in the olfactory lobe of her nautiluses, the equivalent of the vertical lobe in octopuses, where learning and memory takes place.

Early origins

If something akin to a mirror neuron were to turn up in the nautilus it would be a huge surprise. Nautiluses have been around for almost 500 million years, meaning that they are probably very similar to the common ancestor of all cephalopods (see timeline). According to the received wisdom, cephalopods didn’t evolve their big brains until much later – 65 million years ago – when they started to face increased competition from bony fish. They had to adapt fast, and this brought about a “cognitive radiation” – a fast track to a big brain and complex behaviour. A neuron in the nautilus that seems to underlie conscious behaviour might suggest that the earliest cephalopods were already on the road to a complex brain.

There’s not any evidence for this yet, but Basil, along with Frank Grasso, a comparative psychologist at the City University of New York, already has some reason to think that cephalopods evolved complex behaviours early in their evolutionary history, perhaps as a result of infighting within the group. They recently put some nautiluses through the kinds of tests previously reserved for the other cephalopods. While their brains are nowhere near as complex as their younger relatives, they have many of the same abilities in learning, memory and spatial awareness. “They remember a very complex maze with visual elements in it for three months, just like an octopus. Never in a million years would I have thought that,” says Basil.

If these suspicions pan out with future work, it could mean cephalopods developed their skills hundreds of millions of years ago.

That would be a serious blow to our mammalian pride. We often consider warm-blooded vertebrates to be the poster children for intelligence on Earth, but in the race to evolve a brain that can make sense of the world it lives in, there’s every chance the mollusc got there first.

Ancient intelligence

A brain apart

The cephalopod brain is based on a fundamentally snail-like design, with the gut running through its centre. Other molluscs have a nervous system consisting of chains of ganglia, or nerve knots, but in cephalopods evolution has bunched them together to form a centralised brain, with the ganglia becoming more complex lobes.

Not all of the ganglia ended up in the central brain, however. In fact, of the 500 million neurons making up the octopus brain (roughly the same number as a dog), only 40 to 45 million are enclosed within the brain capsule – a protective wrapper of cartilage. The rest sit outside: 300 million or so control the complex arm system and work semi-autonomously, with only the simplest instructions from the central brain. Between 120 and 180 million are in the optic lobes, also outside the central brain, which process visual information and may store memories.

The Octopus Connectome Project, launched in 2009, aims to work out how these neurons are linked. A collaboration between Texas A&M University in College Station, The Neurosciences Institute in San Diego, California, and Stazione Zoologica Anton Dohrn in Naples, Italy, it has so far mapped around half of the lobes that lie below the oesophagus by staining the neurons and imaging them with a scanning microscope. The team are now in the process of turning them into a computer model of the brain. They presented the at last year’s Computational Neuroscience Meeting in San Antonio, Texas, though it is too early to make firm conclusions, says Yoonsuck Choe of Texas A&M University. The ultimate aim is to compare the physical basis of intelligence in the octopus, mouse and ultimately human connectome. Watch this space.