Lions and tigers roar, dogs growl and cats hiss. Now, it seems, even the humble caterpillar sends out a message that warns other species they had better watch out.

When disturbed by other creatures, silk moth caterpillars click their jaws to signal that they are about to turn violent. If the predators don’t back off, the caterpillars fire out foul-smelling and tasting droplets of liquid that other animals, including mice and ants, find repulsive. Their trick of turning defence into attack is, apparently, highly successful say the authors of the study, published in the Journal of Experimental Biology and reported in New Scientist magazine today.

(Link in full: http://www.newscientist.com/article/mg19325955.500-listen-up-says-caterpillar-im-quite-disgusting.html)

Camels: Mad For A Drink

Here's the oddest story of the week. Australian camels are being driven mad by thirst as the country suffers the worst drought in a century. As the BBC reports here , huge herds of feral camels are rampaging around the outback in search of a drop of water and may have to be culled before they do more damage. Now I am happy to admit that I didn't even know camels roamed the wilds of Australia until I read this. Apparently they were imported in the 19th century with a view to being used as transport but have since lived wild in the vast open spaces of the outback.

The Leopard That Changed Its Spots

Scientists at the WWF have discovered an entirely news species of big cat. As this National Geographic Story explains, the clouded leopard lives on the islands of Borneo and Sumatra and, contrary to what was previously thought, is unrelated to any other cat. Genetic tests revealed it isn't even a cosuin of other clouded leopard species in Asia. Zoologists are being careful in their studies of this rare creature, and with good cause. The impressive looking leopard boasts the largest set of fangs yet seen on a big cat.

Pigeons Use Compasses

German scientists have solved the age-old riddle of how pigeons find their way home. They apparently have tiny, iron magnets in their bills which they use to read the earth’s magnetic fields in much the same way as a compass. You can read the full story here.

The Screaming Cuckoos I thought the yodeling Basenji I featured last year was the weirdest noise in the animal world, but clearly not. Rather than cuckooing cutely away like its relatives, the rare, Sumatran cuckoo makes a call that sounds like a human impersonating a chicken - and badly. National Geographic has the story of the cuckoo's discovery as well as a recording of its unearthly call.Play it loud, then watch the faces around you react.

As Drunk As A Duck So, now we know it. Chinese ducks apparently love nothing more than a can of beer with their meals. This Press Association story reveals all.

What Next, Monkey Wrenches? More and more evidence is emerging about the tool-making ability of animals. We know New Caledonian crows can make all sorts of tools, including hooks to prise out bits of food. But now, reassuringly, it seems apes are emerging as the smartest creatures in the jungle. BBC Science & Nature reports on chimpanzees in Senegal, west Africa who have been observed using spears to gouge out food from tree trunks and even hunt their prey.

I WAS SEVEN when a large sow taught me one of the more valuable, if painful, lessons of my young life: pigs really don't appreciate being ridden, rodeo-style. My moment of enlightenment came one Sunday afternoon, in a muddy pasture on the smallholding where I grew up. Filled with that blend of bravado and brainlessness that only boys of that age possess, I decided to climb on board the fattest of our half dozen or so porkers and "break it in". (I'm fairly certain the idea had been planted by watching a bunch of leathered cowboys taming a steer, earlier that day on Bonanza.) No sooner had I grasped her leather harness and clambered on board her broad, bristly back, than the sow had shaken off the indolence that had defined her personality since she'd arrived with us and begun performing a passable imitation of a bucking bronco. I held on for all of three seconds before being catapulted, head first, into the mud. The physical bruises faded soon enough; the scars this delivered to my boyhood pride took longer to heal. Scientists probably don't have catastrophic interactions like this in mind when they talk about the benefits of having animals around. Their arguments tend to focus more on the advantages dogs, cats and hamsters bring in terms of stress-release and proto-parenting, teaching children responsibility and environmental awareness. I have no doubt there is merit in all their assertions. But, it struck me recently, the curious incidents that filled my childhood may offer one or two extra, unheralded arguments in favour of spending our lives close to animals. When I was 11 or so, for instance, my father and I found a fox cub injured in the woods nearby and brought it home. We nursed it on bottled milk for a few weeks. We converted an old sideboard into his home, even gave him a name, Carlo. No one was more enthusiastic about our new charge than my father, who was fired by memories of his own childhood when he too had reared a stray cub. I remember sensing that our shared responsibility for this poor creature had somehow brought us closer. One morning I woke up to discover the fox had battered its way through the side of his home and fled. He was gone but he hadn't forgotten. A week later an already more mature-looking Carlo reappeared in a roadside hedge near the entrance to our lane. Rather idiotically, I assumed he'd come back to say thanks. So, unbelievably, did my father. When he kneeled down to stroke the fox, Carlo bit him so hard he almost severed a finger. I'd never seen so much blood. The memory has been locked away ever since, a piece of family lore. Naturally, neither my father nor I has ever trusted a fox since. In the rural community in which I grew up, animals were part of the daily fabric, especially to my large circle of uncles, many of whom were steeped in the more arcane traditions of country life. One was an accomplished poacher who taught me how to tickle trout. It's a skill I have yet to practice in the Thames tributary that now runs by my home, but you never know when it might come in handy. Another farming uncle taught me how to spot a sheep that was ready to spontaneously combust. (Hint: if a ewe has been stuck, lying on its side, suffering from "bloat" for several hours and the temperatures are in the 90s, don't light a match anywhere nearby.) Yet another showed me how to read the weather-forecasting skills of cattle and birds. In truth, this was less impressive. It being west Wales, the only weather they tended to predict was rain, which didn't really put them in the Nostradamus class. The most useless trick a relative passed on to me, undoubtedly, was how to hypnotise a chicken. To my amazement, I saw that by tucking the bird's head under its wings then moving it around slowly in a cyclical fashion, it froze rigid, as if in suspended animation. Unsurprisingly, the beauty of that particular party piece lay in its comedy value. The mere mention of it was enough to reduce the most miserable aunt to laughter. That's another important facet animals bring to family life, of course, as the producers of You've Been Framed have known for decades. I've spent the bulk of the past 30 years in London, far removed from the rural world in which I was raised. (In reality, it has almost disappeared. Few of the older generation remain and almost all of the old traditions have died away, too.) As a consequence of this, my two young children, Thomas and Gabriella, have missed out on the kind of first-hand animal encounters I took for granted. There have been, of course, memorable moments at zoos and rescue centres, bird parks and nature reserves. Like every other urban family, we've driven round Longleat with baboons attached to the windscreen wipers and wondered at John Aspinall's gorillas at Howlett's in Kent. On holiday in Brazil, we even shared our home with iguanas, macaws and macaque monkeys. The joy these experiences bring the children almost always makes me regret their transience. I feel sad the only foxes they encounter are city scavengers. I often wish they too could do something as daft as learning the art of chicken hypnotism. This all changed a few months ago, however. It was then that animals - and the simple, sometimes silly pleasures they bestow upon family life - made a small, very small, comeback. As parents, my wife and I had been resistant to the children's pleas for a cat or dog for a blend of practical and medical reasons. Our home was too confining for a decent-sized dog (and I see no point in having any other). A cat - or any other furry creature - would almost certainly have exacerbated the mild asthma our son, Thomas, occasionally suffered. (Irony of ironies, his first bout was probably triggered by straw mites, encountered during an otherwise brilliant visit to a Devon farm during lambing.) With the latter problem seemingly fading with age, however, our arguments had begun to seem ever more facile. Then, a year or so ago, I began writing a book on curious animal facts, an assemblage of all the strange things science has taught us about the subjects my country uncles probably knew instinctively. (Cows may not be able to detect rain but, it seems, sharks are capable of detecting bad weather with unerring accuracy.) As talk of how fish communicate by farting (the bright spark that discovered their bubble language named it Fast Repetitive Tick, or FRT) and how mice serenade each other with ultrasonic song flashed across the breakfast table, the children detected the final semblance of their parent's anti-animal resistance melting away. They seized the opportunity with ruthless efficiency. Our home now echoes to the twittering of a four-month-old budgie called Georgie. Already Georgie is providing the more mundane and obvious benefits those scientists like to talk about. He is a shared responsibility, a warming, unchallenging presence that defuses the stresses of domestic life, a source of entertainment and education. (Did you know budgies are among the most monogamous of all birds? It's partly to do with the fact that females take vicious revenge on a straying male. If he lived in the wild, Georgie would be a hopeless cuckold.) But he is also beginning to fulfil the role the cows and chickens, foxes and fish played in my country childhood. For a start he generates laughs to rival those produced by talk of hypnotised chickens. You had to be there, of course, but for us the memories of the comic manner in which he fell off his newly installed swing during his first week can produce laughter so violent we fear the children may spontaneously combust. The little bird's positive influence on the children is already clear. Their Sunday mornings are dedicated to clearing out and cleaning the cage. The budgie's bath times are conducted with diligence and good sense. Pocket money was put aside for a range of Christmas presents for him. He is handled with care and respect. Provided the children keep up their excellent attitude towards the tweating newcomer, other birds - and, who knows, a guinea pig - may follow. I haven't quite recreated the strange animal-filled landscape of my youth. But I do feel somehow re-connected to the pleasures that a constant, non-human presence can bring. In my more fanciful moments I dream of transforming our home into a place where all manner of animals lie in wait, each of them with a memorable, preferably danger-laced, lesson to deliver Thomas and Gabriella. My wife often accuses me of turning the house into a pigsty. Perhaps we could go the whole hog and stick one or two in the garden.

The idea is doubly efficient in environmental terms. The methane cattle produce is a major contributor to global warming. Dairy cows can belch 106 to 132 gallons of methane gas a day, 200 times more than a human. (It’s reckoned that the UK’s 2.2 million cattle account for around 7 per cent of our greenhouse gases although that’s nothing compared to New Zealand, whose 40 million sheep and 10 million cows produce 43 per cent of its emissions.) By processing it this way the amount of methane let loose into the atmosphere is drastically reduced, say Friends of the Earth. All this gives the term battery farming a whole new meaning. Presumably, it also means that at this particular building the s*** is actually powering the fan.

The Year's Best Video Nasties Ever seen an anaconda swallow the world's largest rodent, the south American capybara, or a giant octopus lock tentacles with a shark? Ever witnessed a puffer fish outwit an otter or a black mamba snacking on a squirrel? Didn't think so. Well, feast your eyes on National Geographic's top ten video clips of 2006. Just the thing now that Planet Earth has come to an end on the BBC.

Frosty The Ice Frog The Australian Sunday Telegraph has been having great fun reporting on how a small frog that had been accidentally turned to ice in a freezer was successfully defrosted, at least for a while. This isn't quite the surprising news it seems. In fact, some types of frog - in common with other species - deliberately place themselves in a state of frozen, suspended animation so as to survive the Winter each year. The common wood frog, for instance, is able to withstand the Arctic Winter by turning itself into an ice cube. The frog allows two thirds of its body water to freeze, thereby stopping its heart, brain and breathing functions and slowing its metabolism to a crawl. As long as its body temperature doesn’t drop below about 20° Fahrenheit (–6° C) its body will survive on the glucose in its system until the Spring thaw. Similarly, some breeds of American alligators can survive the winter by freezing their snouts in ice, leaving their nostrils to breath for months on end.

Why Kitty Gets So Forgetful Scientists at Edinburgh University may have explained why cats get so scatty in their old age. The rather disturbing truth is reported on the New Scientist's excellent daily blog.

All Together Now, Aaaaaaaah Can't resist cute film footage of pandas? Then here's an early Christmas present, courtesy of Atlanta Zoo and the Associated Press.

Honk Li Korn

Pandas make a variety of noises. They can bleat, squeak, moan, growl and bark. Their most unusual sound effect, however, is a honk.

Wi Pit Hi Giant pandas mark trees with scents to attract members of the opposite sex. Females urinate to leave a mark near the ground while males pee or wipe their anal glands on the trunk. To show how fit and virile they are, the males compete to place these secretions as high as possible. To do this they adopt four main positions. The three most straightforward are a squat, a reverse wipe and a leg-cock. To mark the tree as high as possible they adopt a more complicated, fourth position, a handstand. (There, now you know where the title of this blog comes from.)

Krap Ma

The giant panda’s status as one of the world’s most endangered species is in part down to its inefficient breeding habits. Females can conceive just once a year and are receptive to a male for only three days. If a successful conception produces twins - which it does in 60 per cent of cases - the mother will only care for one of her offspring. The other panda will be abandoned to die.

Free Kee Thum

Pandas have a peculiar, sixth finger. Scientists think they evolved the thumb-like extra digit to help them handle bamboo with greater dexterity. The finger is an extension of the sesamoid bone in the wrist and can flex and work in conjunction with the real thumb to help the panda grip the bamboo’s stem and leaves.

The voting to select the winning name runs until December 10. Inundate Atlanta zoo with these alternative names. Who knows, we may yet create the world's most interesting panda name...

Which bit of the word killer didn’t you understand?

There is a reason why they call them killer whales, as this San Diego zoo trainer was reminded this week. The Times reports on his ordeal here.

Spice Girls

Female wasps fight dirty. When they are losing a confrontation with another wasp, they shoot a substance similar to pepper spray from their heads. They fire the red hot chemical in their opponent’s face then run away a new study reported in National Geographic news revealed this week.

This Christmas, Why Not Eat A Goat Fetus

Tired of fthe traditional turkey for Christmas? Then why not try this unusual Indian delicacy, served on special, family occasions - roast goat fetus. Why do I suddenly fancy a meat free Christmas dinner this year?

Some things I noticed this week:

Pigging Out: Python Style

What would happen if an extremely greedy python tried to eat an alligator whole? This BBC story has the grisly answer.

If You Go Down To The Woods Today... Insomniac bears are wandering the woods of Siberia, scaring the living daylights out of locals. According to news reports the bears can't settle down to their normal hibernation because of the unusually warm weather.

Simian Love Island It's official: there simply aren't enough females around, even if you are a gorilla. So now we know where to send Abi Titmuss, Sophie Anderton and the rest now that So-Called Celebrity Love Island has been scrapped.

Happy Fetusus

Every now and again, a wildlife film-maker does something so extraordinary it leaves you awe-struck, simply lost for words. The National Geographic channel have just completed such a film. It's called Animals In The Womb and is precisely that: a collection of amazing ultrasound images of unborn dogs, dolphins, elephants and other animals. Visit the Animals In The Womb site to get a preview of the film and view a breathtaking gallery of photographs, including a 12 month old elephant foetus (it already weighs 26lbs and is 18 inches long) and a heart-melting image of three, incredibly peaceful looking golden retriever puppies curled up in their mother's womb. Happy Fetuses indeed. Remarkable stuff.

Panda Porn Update

Last week I mentioned that zookeepers in Thailand were showing giant pandas pornographic dvds to get them in the mood for mating. Well, the Press Association are reporting that it paid off. Reports that Chuang Chuang the male panda was spotted smoking a cigar afterwards haven't been confirmed yet.

As MSN Entertainment is reporting - at great length - it's bushtucker time on I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here. Tonight, two hapless souls will be forced to eat a bunch of grubs, spiders and other assorted Australian invertebrates - and all in pursuit of an extra fifteen minutes of, sort of, fame.

In advance of this, I thought I'd list a few of the things I've discovered about insect life while writing my book. Might make you feel even sorrier for the wriggly, little critters as they become the ultimate in celebrity fodder.

--Fruit flies Sumo wrestle. In scientifically observed fights, the insects adopted one of two styles - grappling each other with their forelimbs like tired boxers or shoving each other out of the arena like the overweight Japanese wrestlers.

--Cockroaches wrestle to the death. Males begin their contests for dominance by squaring up to each other with their heads low and their bodies raised at the rear. They then charge at each other so as to butt each other with their heads. If one of the insects succeeds in getting his protruding pronotum under his opponent, he will flip him into the air so that he lands on his back. If not the two will grapple with their legs locked together. During this phase of the fight they will bite each other and roll over and over. A victor will soon emerge. Even if he has survived physically, the loser will soon die from the stress the fight has caused him.

--South American spiders are more sociable than species from elsewhere in the world. Spiders are generally solitary insescts but one species from Ecuador likes to hang out with colleagues. They gather in groups of a dozen or so at a time around communal webs.

--The world’s largest insect colony is in southern Europe and stretches from the Atlantic coast of Spain to Italy. The colony contains billions of ants. The irony is the insects aren’t even European. They originate from Argentina.

--Honeybees run prisons. The South African bees build prisons to capture their main predator, the tank-like hive beetle. They work as a team to force invading beetles into the small, crack-like cells. Once captured, the jailbeetles are watched over by warden bees, who specialise in the task.

--Many animals communicate by sending vibrations to each other. Among those who pass on good and bad vibes are frogs, chameleons and termites. The most impressive sound may be that made by a Costa Rican stinkbug. Males work together to send tremors through plant leaves that are then translated into an airborne sound, very similar to that the distinctive melody of a tuba.

--Ants have different forms of music. Drumming - or body rapping - is common in species who live in wood or dried-pulp nests. Ants bang their front mandibles and their rear ends against the wall of the best in bursts of seven thumps, at 50 millisecond intervals.

--Caterpillars tap dance. Biologists believe the butterfly caterpillars do the dance on leaves and plant stems to attract ants which protect them from predatory wasps.

--Honeybees communicate by dancing. They do a waggle dance to let other bees know how far away and in which direction they need to travel to locate food. Another dance, in which they tremble, signals to bees that they should not fly off for more nectar because there is too much arriving at the hive. The honeybee also communicates by becoming noticably hotter when it finds food.

--Cockroaches have a hissing language. A species of the insect from Madagascar produces a hissing sound by expelling air through a pair of breathing holes, or spiracles, on their abdomen. Males have the greater range of hisses, communicating with other roaches via four different sounds varying in pattern and strength. They have a special hiss they use during courtship and another one for territorial disputes with other males. Females mainly hiss their disapproval when they are disturbed.