In the book “The Call of the Honeyguide,” applied ecologist Rob Dunn explores mutually beneficial relationships between different species. But Dunn argues the relationship between humans and cats may force a rethink of what shape these mutualisms can take.
Win-win partnerships exist all throughout the natural world. These relationships, called mutualisms, happen when two different species interact in a way that helps both of them.
But mutualisms are not always simple or permanent. According to Rob Dunn, a professor of applied ecology at North Carolina State University, relationships between species can shift over time. A partnership that once benefited both sides can eventually become more one-sided, even turning into something closer to a parasite-host relationship.
In his book The Call of the Honeyguide: What Science Tells Us About How to Live Well With the Rest of Life, Dunn explores many of these connections, including one of the most familiar and complicated relationships humans have with another animal: our bond with cats.
Cats live everywhere alongside people. They sleep on our couches, sit on our tables, curl up in our beds and become part of our families. But from a biological point of view, Dunn raises an interesting question: What exactly do humans gain from this relationship?
Unlike dogs, who have historically helped humans hunt, guard homes or herd animals, cats can seem less obviously useful. They benefit from us every day. We feed them, shelter them and care for them. In the United States alone, tens of millions of cats live in homes, and humans provide them with enormous amounts of food, much of it meat.
So, if cats receive so much from people, what do they give back?
Dunn suggests that answering this question may require us to think differently about mutualism. If we define benefit only in terms of survival or reproduction, cats may look almost like parasites of human society. They gain food and safety from us, while their practical value is not always clear.
But the story of cats and humans began in a more straightforward way.
Domestic cats are descended from the African, or Libyan, wildcat. These wildcats lived in North Africa and parts of the Middle East long before they became connected to people. When early humans began farming and storing grain, their settlements attracted mice and rats. Those rodents, in turn, attracted wildcats.
The cats likely began hanging around human communities because there was easy prey. They hunted mice and rats, and perhaps snakes as well. For humans, this was useful. Cats helped control animals that could damage stored food or bring danger into settlements.
Over time, this practical arrangement grew into something deeper. Wildcats that tolerated humans had better access to food, and humans may have welcomed their presence. Gradually, cats became part of human life.
Today, the relationship is more complicated. Most house cats are not protecting grain stores or keeping farms free of rodents. Many are simply companions. Yet that does not mean the relationship has no value.
Cats offer comfort, affection, routine and emotional connection. They may not always “work” for humans in the traditional sense, but many people feel their lives are better with cats in them. That kind of benefit is harder to measure than pest control, but it is still real.
Dunn’s discussion of cats challenges a narrow view of mutualism. It asks whether a relationship must provide obvious physical benefits to count as mutual, or whether joy, companionship and emotional well-being should matter too.
Cats may have entered human society as hunters. But they stayed for something more mysterious — a relationship that is not always easy to define, yet clearly powerful enough to spread across the world.