Leave it to California mice to talk through domestic issues in a thoughtful way and move forward as a family.
In fact, the level-headed conversations they have about infidelity may be a model for all of us.
And just in case you keep going back to the start of this story to make sure you read that right — it's mouse couples we're talking about.
Sure, we can't actually understand what they're saying. Not even Dr. Phil would be able to parse their ultrasonic banter, which takes place at a frequency inaudible to the human ear.
But researchers at the University of Wisconsin-Madison managed to slow down mouse-speak to about 5 percent of its original speed, making it at least comprehensible in tone, if not words.
Their findings, published in the journal Frontiers in Ecology and Evolution, suggest a wide range of dialogue among mouse couples — from barks to roars to gentle cooing.
"They're making a lot of what we call simple sweeps — which are like quick, one-syllable bird chirps — and more sustained vocalizations, which sound almost like whale noises when they're slowed down enough for a human ear," Josh Pultorak, one of the study authors, noted in a release. "The aggressive vocalizations, the barks, go way down after they know each other."
The scientists paired 55 male and female California mice — which, unlike most rodents, are steadfast in their monogamy. From their body language and vocalizations, the research team could track how each pair bonded.
Like many a relationship, the bonds began with discomfort, awkwardness and a lot of yelling.
There was some bellowing and barking between paired mice, but they eventually cooed and murmured as one. (Photo: Nick Vorobey/Shutterstock)
"The barks are just nasty." Pultorak explained. "It's like a combination of a dog bark and a lion's roar."
But eventually the aggressiveness subsided and the mice cooed their way into couplehood.
That's when researchers introduced a twist: cheating. Male mice were packed off and sent to live with other women. The female partners were also matched with new men. A third group of test subjects were separated, and left to live alone. And a fourth group, the control batch, was left to carry on in their little love nest.
After a time, the cheating groups were reunited with their original partners. And things got downright nasty.
Many of those mice barked and hollered at their two-timing mates — a raucous contrast from the mice that were simply separated, minus the hanky-panky.
It was almost as if the mice could smell their partners' cheating ways.
The cheating mice must have had a certain something about them when they returned home ... (Photo: Szasz-Fabian Jozsef/Shutterstock)
But the yelling eased up and the mouse vocalizations became unified again. Cooing ensued. The couples even settled down and produced a fine litter of children.
"Do they not bark at their partner because they have a stronger bond that's able to withstand the infidelity?" Pultorak mused. "Or is it instead a weaker bond, and they don't really care so much about what this other mouse has been doing?"
"Maybe they'd be a better match with a different partner anyway, and that's playing into it. We don't yet know that."
But we may be able to see a lesson for us all in these reconciling rodents. Hell may have no fury like a mouse scorned, but lasting relationships are built on communication. And that includes an occasional bark to set a wandering partner straight.
