What you're seeing
The scene is drawn twice. First it is painted into channels a camera does not record: four bands of radiance from ultraviolet to red, the surface temperature of every object, and the degree and angle of polarisation of the light coming off it. Then one animal's eye reads those channels using its measured biology. That two-stage split is why a bee can find the ultraviolet bullseye on a flower here and a photo filter never could.
How to read the graph
Left of the divider is your own vision; right of it is the animal. Drag the divider. The board of bars is an acuity test, six rows each twice as fine as the last, so you can see where an eye stops resolving. Sharpness is drawn relative to you rather than in absolute terms, because no screen can show a human fovea's 60 cycles per degree across a field this wide; for the same reason an eye sharper than yours can only look as sharp as the screen allows. The black bands top and bottom are not letterboxing, they are directions this animal has no receptors pointing at. Drop the light slider to find which eyes were built for the dark.
The key lesson
Animals do not have better or worse eyes than us. Each visual system spends a fixed budget of photoreceptors, neurons and skull space on the small part of reality that keeps that animal alive: a panoramic predator alarm, a moving-target detector, a night contrast map, an ultraviolet flower finder, a polarisation map, a long-range targeting instrument. Ours is one of those bets, not the standard the others fall short of.