I was watching my cat stalking a bird in the garden today; a majestic natural hunter, with his beautiful white Siberian mane so clear against the green of the grass. I imagined how perfectly he had evolved for the snowy climates of Siberia, where he would not only have the advantage of his silent footsteps, but also blend in perfectly with his white surroundings.
Camouflage: what an incredible genetic superpower. An entire species simply evolving to look like their surroundings. The stick insect, looking identical to the twigs it lives on, the giant leaf Gekko, practically invisible against the trunk of a tree, even down to silverfish we find in our bathrooms, often blending in against metal piping or in shadows.
Then emerges a creature that if you were to describe the existence of to an outsider, they would think you’re making it up. In shape, a cross between a horse and a donkey. In habitat, often living in the open savannahs of Africa. A herd of herbivores, bottom of the food chain, against the dry oranges and yellows of the savannah, bright, bedazzling, dramatic. The Zebra. They reside among other similar herbivores such as the gazelle and the giraffe – both species which understandably evolved to have brown toned fur to match the shade of their environment. So how can we as scientists, evolutionary biologists ever rationalise the seemingly random and out-of-place colouring of the zebra? Whether black with white stripes or white with black stripes, neither colour has any space in the neutrals of the savannah.
Zebras with their distinct black and white stripes have been around and thriving in the masses for the last 2 to 4 million years, after splitting with their ancestorial relatives (the horse and donkey) from the Equus family when, as a species, they settled in Africa. An animal which as an individual has no more defence mechanisms than the average horse with its powerful kick and bite, standing little chance against a pack of lions.
But how complex is nature: camouflage extends beyond a species ability to hide among its landscape. The intricacy and flawless design of the zebra is truly mind blowing, with multiple advantages to the distinct black and white stripes. In terms of environmental benefits, the white reflects the scorching heats of the African Savannah, keeping the zebras cool. In terms of fighting disease, the confusing pattern deters disease carrying flies and bugs. But the impressive advantage of the stripes is their unsuspecting usefulness against predators. Alone, zebras are pretty helpless. In herds, unstoppable. Like my cat singled out a bird to stalk and kill earlier today, his brother from Africa, the lion also singles out their pray. Coming across a sea of black and white zig zags, running together at up to 55 mph, which from afar seems no different to static on a screen, predators become dazzled, confused, unable to single out one zebra. Against predators like lions and hyenas, zebras have up to 85% survival rate.
By design, intentional, black and white, standing out against their habitat, yet essentially invisible among their herd: flawless design, unsuspecting camouflage.
‘just as people, living beings, and cattle are of various colours as well’ 35:28
