The languages of life: From whale songs to desert calls

There is a kind of music that rises from the waters of Masirah — ancient, haunting and largely unheard by human ears. The humpback whales that inhabit these seas are no ordinary singers. Unlike their oceanic cousins, they have stayed resident for over 70,000 years, evolving their own distinct dialect. Their songs are not random sounds but long, structured sequences — repeating phrases that travel for kilometres through the dark ocean depths. Scientists, fascinated, have been recording these underwater symphonies as if curating a mysterious playlist, yet the “lyrics” remain elusive.
Elsewhere in the whale world, scientists have begun to make partial sense of such mysterious form of communication. In deep-diving toothed whales, researchers have found repeating patterns called 'codas' — and are mapping something like a phonetic alphabet. But unlike human language, decoding these underwater conversations requires a musical lens rather than a linguistic one. Concepts such as rhythm, variation, rubato and ornamentation become essential tools — as if these whales are not merely speaking, but composing.
Communication in the animal kingdom is both purposeful and profound. At its core, it serves survival — to warn of danger, to find food, to find a mate and ultimately to sustain existence. Humans, of course, have taken a particular route. We rely heavily on speech, packaging thoughts into audible words; our language, therefore, is built on sound.
But nature is far more inventive than our voice-bound world. It does not depend on sound alone. Across species, communication unfolds through an astonishing orchestra of signals — from sounds beyond our hearing range, coded dances, changing skin patterns, flashes of light, invisible chemical messages and even electric fields. Some messages travel through air, some through water, some through the ground. In nature’s grand design, conversation is not limited to what is heard; it is woven into everything that can be sensed.
Elephants, too, hold conversations beyond the limits of human hearing. Their deep rumbles are infrasound — frequencies too low for our ears — yet, like long-wave radio signals, they can travel remarkable distances through air and even through the ground. Recent research suggests that wild African elephants may use individual-specific calls that function much like names. Using machine learning techniques, scientists have identified these unique vocal patterns; when a recorded call is played back, the particular elephant associated with that call responds.
Bottlenose dolphins develop a unique signature whistle, allowing individuals to identify and call one another. Marmoset monkeys and parrots show similar abilities, using specific vocal labels within their social groups. Vervet monkeys take this communication system even further — they appear to have distinct alarm calls for different predators such as eagles, leopards and snakes, effectively creating a danger dictionary for their community.
And perhaps the most entertaining example comes from prairie dogs. Their alarm calls are so detailed that researchers have found they can communicate descriptions of intruders — almost like a tiny animal security system announcing: “Tall human wearing a blue shirt approaching!”.
Beyond sounds, nature has invented some rather unusual communication channels. Rhinos, for example, do not maintain conversations that are pleasant to our ears — mainly because their messages are not meant for ears at all. They communicate through smell. Their communal dung heaps, known as middens, function like a neighbourhood noticeboard — a biological bulletin board announcing who is around, their age, gender, health status and even territorial claims. It is perhaps the only social media platform where the posts are completely organic!
If you have ever wondered why your cat carefully buries its waste, it is not simply a matter of cleanliness. The cat is practising a form of “silent mode” — hiding its presence from others through smell. In the language of scent, disappearing is also a message.
Nature’s creativity does not stop there. Cuttlefish literally wear their messages on their skin, changing colours and patterns in a real-time, embedded display system. Fireflies communicate through flashes of light — conversation with visual effects. And deep in muddy waters, weakly electric fish use self-generated electric fields to exchange signals, carrying their own built-in communication technology. Long before humans invented smartphones, nature had already designed smell messages, glowing notifications and electric chats.
In Oman, this remarkable connection between humans and animals lives on in Al Hedaa — the traditional art of calling camel flocks. Through carefully developed vocal patterns, camels learn to recognise and respond to their herders' calls. Recognised by Unesco as an intangible cultural heritage, Al Hedaa is a living conversation between two species.
From the haunting songs of Masirah's humpbacks to the chemical messages of rhinos and the electric conversations of fish in muddy water, life has found countless ways to exchange information — proof that language does not belong to humans alone. Perhaps our ancestors understood something modern science is only beginning to appreciate: communication is not merely about speaking and listening, but about recognition, trust and connection. The ocean, the desert and every creature around us are in constant conversation — we simply need to learn how to listen.

Dr Sivakumar Manickam
The author is an Associate Professor, Oman Dental College