Sea snakes have some of the most potent venoms of any snake, but most of the 60 or so species are docile, rare, or sparing with their venom. The beaked sea snake (Enhydrina schistosa) is an exception. It lives throughout Asia and Australasia, has a reputation for being aggressive, and swims in estuaries and lagoons where it often gets entangled in fishing nets. Unwary fishermen get injected with venom that’s more potent than a cobra’s or a rattlesnake’s. It’s perhaps unsurprising that this one species accounts for the vast majority of injuries and deaths from sea snake bites.
But this deadliest of sea snakes has a secret: it’s actually two sea snakes.
By analysing the beaked sea snake’s genes, Kanishka Ukuwela from the University of Adelaide has shown that the Asian individuals belong to a completely different branch of the sea snake family tree than the Australian ones. They are two species, which have evolved to look so identical that until now, everyone thought they were the same. They’re a fantastic new example of convergent evolution, when different species turn up at life’s party wearing the same clothes.
Of all the adjectives you could use to describe a crocodile’s face, “sensitive” might not be an obvious one. But their huge jaws, pointed teeth and armoured scales belie a surprising secret. Their faces, and possibly their entire bodies, are covered with tiny bumps that are far more sensitive than our own fingertips.
The bumps are obvious if you look carefully. Each one is a small dome, barely a millimetre wide, surrounded by a groove. There are around 4,000 of them on an alligator’s jaws and inside its mouth. Crocodiles and gharials also have the bumps on virtually every scale of their bodies, giving a total of around 9,000. (All of these animals are called crocodilians.)
The black mamba has a fearful reputation, and it’s easy to see why. It can move at around 12.5 miles (20 kilometres) per hour, making it one of the world’s fastest snakes, if not the fastest. Its body can reach 4.5 metres in length, and it can lift a third of that off the ground. That would give you an almost eye-level view of the disturbingly black mouth from which it gets its name. And inside that mouth, two short fangs deliver one of the most potent and fast-acting venoms of any land snake.
Combined with its reputation for aggression (at least when cornered) and you’ve got a big, intimidating, deadly, ornery serpent that can probably outrun you. It’s not the most obvious place to go looking for painkillers.
But among the cocktail of chemicals in the black mamba’s venom, Sylvie Diochot and Anne Baron from the CNRS have found a new class of molecules that can relieve pain as effectively as morphine, and without any toxic side effects. They’ve named them mambalgins.
Geckos are superb wall-crawlers. These lizards can scuttle up sheer surfaces and cling to ceilings with effortless grace, thanks to toes that are covered in microscopic hairs. Each of these hairs, known as setae, finishes in hundreds of even finer spatula-shaped split-ends. These ends make intimate contact with the microscopic bumps and troughs of a given surface, and stick using the same forces that bind individual molecules together. These forces are weak, but summed up over millions of hairs, they’re enough to latch a lizard to a wall.
Many geckos have these super-toes, but not all of them. There are around 1,450 species of geckos, and around 40 per cent have non-stick feet. A small number are legless, and have no feet at all. Initially, scientists assumed that the sticky toes evolved once in the common ancestor of all the wall-crawling species. That’s a reasonable assumption given that the toes look superficially similar. It’s also wrong.
Tony Gamble from the University of Minnesota has traced the evolutionary relationships of almost all gecko groups, and shown that these lizards have evolved their wall-crawling acumen many times over. In the gecko family tree, eleven branches evolved sticky toes independently of each other, while nine branches lost these innovations.
Imagine eating nothing but jelly all your life. It’s hardly the richest source of food, and you might expect an animal with such a menu to be small and feeble. You’d be wrong. The leatherback turtle eats jellyfish and little else, but it grows up to 640 kilograms in weight, and can migrate over thousands of kilometres. How can such a powerful giant subsist on such ethereal meals?
This is not an easy question to answer. Leatherbacks feed well below the ocean surface, and the jellyfish they seek are found in dense but sparse patches. Finding the animals, and studying their eating habits, is very challenging. Mike James from Dalhousie University, Canada, did it by attaching small video cameras to the shells of 19 turtles.
[After a brief problem with the slideshows, they should be working again – Ed]
I can’t escape animal sex, even on holiday.
On our Sri Lankan boat trip, it took us an hour or so to find some blue whales. But the first animals we saw were no less spectacular. From a distance, they looked like buoys, gleaming bright and white against the sea. As the boat drew closer, we realised that the light wasn’t reflecting off a man-made object, but the shell of a green turtle.
Then we realised that the light was actually reflecting off the shells of two green turtles. They were mating at the surface.
It turns out that if you unleash giant snakes into a place that didn’t previously have giant snakes, the other local animals don’t fare so well. That seems obvious, but you might be surprised at just how badly those other animals fare.
Since 2000, Burmese pythons have been staging an increasingly successful invasion of Florida. No one knows exactly how they got there. They normally live in south-east Asia and were probably carried over by exotic wildlife traders. Once in America, they could have escaped from pet stores or shipping warehouses. Alternatively, overambitious pet owners could have released when they got too large for comfort. Either way, they seem to be thriving.
With an average length of 12 feet (4 metres), the pythons are formidable predators. They suffocate their prey with powerful coils, and they target a wide variety of mammals and birds. The endangered Key Largo woodrat and wood stork are on their menu. So are American alligators (remember this oft-emailed photo?). Conservationists are trying to halt the spread of the giant snakes, out of concern that their booming numbers could spell trouble for local wildlife.
Michael Dorcas from Davidson College thinks they are right to be concerned. In the first systematic assessment of the pythons’ impact, Dorcas has found that many of Florida’s mammals have plummeted in numbers in places where the snakes now live.
To fans of cheesy pop music, the beat of someone else’s heart is a symbol of romantic connection. To a boa constrictor, those beats are simply a sign that it hasn’t finished killing yet.
A constricting snake like a boa or a python kills its prey by suffocation. It uses the momentum of its strike to throw coils around its victim’s body. Then, it squeezes. Every time the prey exhales, the snake squeezes a little more tightly. Soon, the victim can breathe no more.
We’ve known this for centuries but amazingly, no one has worked out how the snakes can tell when to stop constricting. Scott Boback from Dickinson College has the answer. Through its thick coils, a boa can sense the tiny heartbeats of its prey. When the heart stops, the snake starts to relax.
The giant tortoises of the Galapagos Islands are large, conspicuous and slow-moving. Encased in their shells, they might seem like impregnable tanks, but they have no defences against machetes. It’s no surprise that their numbers plummeted at the hands of humans who landed on the islands – first pirates, then whales and fur-traders, then permanent settlers.
The lineage of giant tortoise from the island of Floreana was one of the first permanent casualties. It was extinct by 1835, just 15 years after a certain Charles Darwin visited the Galapagos.
Or was it? A team of scientists has found traces of the tortoises, which suggests that a lost population might still be alive on nearby Isabela Island, the largest of the Galapagos archipelago. The team found neither droppings, nor grainy photos, nor footprints. They found genetic footprints.
Thomas Libby filmed rainbow agamas – a beautiful species with the no-frills scientific name of Agama agama – as they leapt from a horizontal platform onto a vertical wall. Before they jumped, they first had to vault onto a small platform. If the platform was covered in sandpaper, which provided a good grip, the agama could angle its body perfectly. In slow motion, it looks like an arrow, launching from platform to wall in a smooth arc (below, left)
If the platform was covered in a slippery piece of card, the agama lost its footing and it leapt at the wrong angle. It ought to have face-planted into the wall, but Libby found that it used its long, slender tail to correct itself (below, right). If its nose was pointing down, the agama could tilt it back up by swinging its tail upwards.