The animal world sometimes seems like a catalog of exceptions. But if you take a closer look, you quickly realize that these apparent outliers follow rules—just very strict ones. A curiosity is not a flaw in the system, but an adapted response to a tough question: "How do I survive here—today—with what is available?"

Use camouflage. Becoming invisible isn't just cool, it saves energy and reduces risk. Animals do this in different ways: some match the color and pattern of their surroundings, others break up their own outline with "disturbing patterns." Still others pretend to be something completely different. In all cases, it's not the truth that is perceived, but what the opponent's brain makes of it.

Regeneration sounds like science fiction, but in many places it is everyday life. Body parts are lost—in turf wars, while fleeing, through bad luck. Instead of "game over," it's "rebuilding." This takes time and resources, but it's worth it if it increases the chances of reproduction or survival. From nature's perspective, "good enough" is enough—the solution has to work, not look perfect.

In the ocean, it becomes particularly clear how practicality trumps imagination. Light is scarce, pressure is high, temperatures fluctuate. Those who live here need a toolkit that is suited to invisible spaces. Bioluminescence—the ability to generate one's own light—seems like magic. In fact, it is chemistry: substances react, photons fly, signals are created. Whether used to attract, deter, or communicate, it is a precise tool, not a party trick.

"Curious" is often the label we assign when we lack context. An animal that is extremely sensitive to vibrations is not "exaggerated"—it is reading an environmental medium that we ignore. For the rock dweller, the shadow of the griffin is more deadly than the wind; for the deep-sea fish, a brief flash of light is a gold mine of information. Senses are filters, not cameras.

Behavior also builds bridges between biology and everyday life. Cooperation saves energy, deception gives you an advantage, timing is crucial. The exciting thing is that many strategies are scalable. An ant carries more in a team than it ever could alone. A flock of birds confuses predators with synchronized flight. Individually, these tricks are simple, but together they are effective.

Why is this relevant? Because otherwise we dismiss nature as a cabinet of curiosities—and thus underestimate it. Those who understand that every "oddity" serves a purpose learn to recognize patterns: Where is the resource scarce? Who is the opponent? What is the cost-benefit analysis? This is how wonder turns into understanding.

For everyday life, this means that wonder is the beginning and insight is the goal. Observe first, evaluate later. Ask: "In what environment does this work?" and "What limits does the environment impose?" This does not make us biologists, but it does make us better observers. And it sharpens our eye for solutions that do not look "standard" – in nature as in life.

In the end, the most elegant insight remains: nature wastes nothing. Even the strangest physique, the most garish color, or the riskiest behavior are only successful if they solve a problem. The animal world is therefore less a freak show catalog than a library of functioning answers. And each answer is as individual as the place where it originated.

• In nature, "curious" almost always means useful for survival.

• Camouflage, regeneration, and bioluminescence are three common "superpowers."

• Extreme environments create extreme solutions.

• Behavior is often as exciting as physique: teamwork, deception, timing.

• Every example fits in with its environment—otherwise it would not have prevailed.