A key principle governing the natural world is that animals adapt to thrive in particular habitats; what we call an animal's character is essentially a set of traits that gives it maximal opportunity to flourish in specific circumstances.
The owl is — for example — furtive and nocturnal to help it succeed in crowded habitats with heavy pressures on food supplies.
Stick insects are docile and skilled at disappearing into a background of twigs and branches to help them avoid the attention of rodents and spiders.
And African wild dogs are collaborative and respectful of hierarchies to lend them the very best chances of cornering impalas and springboks.
We humans are — in the end, beneath a layer of civilisation — not so different.
We too adapt our characters to suit our specific habitats, though what we mean by habitats are not corners of the jungle or grassland but rather our families of birth.
Just like many animals, we arrive defenceless into highly distinctive circumstances to which we must adjust in order to thrive.
In certain families, it will in short order become obvious — to the highly attuned psyche of a child — that success here requires that one keep a very low profile and never challenge the reigning figures of authority.
In other habitats, the child will learn that it must constantly entertain everyone in order to be noticed while in others still, a child might surmise it needs to act up and get into certain forms of trouble to lay claim to a scarce supply of attention.
This thesis can be helpful — and opens up avenues of compassion — when we encounter people whose behaviour is especially puzzling or maddening.
