As I’ve described before, the Indo-Pacific lionfish in the Atlantic and Caribbean are quite possibly the worst marine invasion ever. These toxic predators have been eating their way around for the past few decades, driving down populations of native species and threatening already-struggling habitats. Now, a pair of papers released this month have more bad news: the lionfish are continuing to spread, and they may be eating the very last of critically endangered species.
Last week, agents from the U.S. Customs and Border Protection here in Honolulu caught an unwelcome stowaway in a container of granite and flagstone from Brazil: a 3.5 inch wandering spider (Phoneutria species). A second spider was found in another container from the same shipment four days later, and was likely another of the same species — though agents are not entirely sure because the worker unloading the container smashed the bugger beyond positive ID. One spider is not so big a deal, but two is dangerously close to an introduction, and the Plant Quarantine Branch is now working with the importer to get the entire shipment returned to sender. But the close call begs a frightening question: could wandering spiders invade Hawaii? Read More
Over the past few days, scientists around the globe have taken to Twitter with the hashtag #IAmAScientistBecause, giving their reasons for why they chose to become scientists. As far as scientist origin stories go, mine is not entirely uncommon. I wrote it years ago, back in 2009 when I was about to embark upon my PhD at the University of Hawaii — a degree which I completed last December. For me, science has always been about the natural world, especially the ocean.
I was a biologist when I was five – not that I knew this until much later. I loved animals of all kinds, and couldn’t get enough of museums and zoos. I also fell in love with the sea. I loved tide pools and whatever creatures I could find in them.
So it just seemed so fitting to me that #IAmAScientistBecause happens to be blowing up this week of all weeks. This week happens to be one of the busiest weeks of the year for me, but it’s a week that perfectly encapsulates why I love being a scientist: I just spent the past two days sharing my lifelong passion for tide pools with the students of Mililani-Mauka Elementary.
Every year, helping out with the Tide Walks is the highlight of my spring. I am a scientist because of tide pools, because of field trips when I was a kid just like the ones I now help with annually. I explained the annual Tide Walks a few years ago like this:
The partnership between EECB and Mililani-Mauka Elementary school is one of those rare gems in outreach where both sides get a tremendous amount out of the relationship. The school gets trained scientific experts that fascinate and amaze the kids with tales of slimy defenses and odd partnerships between crabs and anemones. In turn, the graduate students get to take a day off, get out of the lab, and act like kids playing in tide pools. Sometimes, I think the overworked grad students are more excited to catch critters than the kids!
Here is just a few photos from this week that explain why I love this job so much:
But in case that wasn’t enough of an awesome week to explain why I’m a scientist, there’s more in store for me: I’m spending the rest of this week as an organizer and judge of the 40th annual Albert L. Tester Symposium, which means I get to learn about all of the amazing science that University of Hawaii graduate students are conducting. I couldn’t be more excited to see what my friends and colleagues have been up to! I hope you’ll join us on Twitter with the hashtag #TesterUH.
For four years, the state of California has experienced a devastating drought. It’s not just a little dry—according to scientists, it’s the worst drought in over a millennium, fueled by global climate change. Cali is in such dire straits that Governor Edmund G. Brown Jr. just signed two emergency measures to funnel another $1 billion to drought relief and critical water infrastructure projects. No sector is feeling the hit more than Golden State’s agricultural industry, where the shortage of water has already cost farmers billions. And California’s drought is just the beginning; scientists predict severe and widespread droughts globally in the next 30 to 90 years. Given that the world’s farmers account for 75% of our freshwater use, these droughts will cause massive losses in crop production unless the agricultural industry as a whole can find a way to maintain production with less water input.
It’s a puzzle that genetic engineers are eager to solve. Read More
The lionfish eating their way through the Atlantic and Caribbean are among the worst marine invasive species to date. Anything we can do to limit their populations is a step in the right direction, thus it’s not surprising that some are getting creative when it comes to control. One of the most common questions I receive goes like this: What if there’s something worthwhile in their venom? Could we convince people to hunt them in droves if we can find a medical use for their spines?
It sure sounds like a perfect plan: study lionfish venom, find medically-relevant compound, and harvest millions of invasive lionfish to extract it. If only it were that simple.
Chameleons are known for their vibrant color changes. While the old wives’ tale that they change color to match their surroundings isn’t true, they are capable of remarkable shifts in hue, a trait which has fascinated scientists for years.
Now, scientists have learned from the little lizards, and have created a material that, like chameleons, can shift its colors seemingly effortlessly.
The material was created by Connie Chang-Hasnain, a professor of electrical engineering at University of California Berkeley, and her students, Li Zhu and James Ferrara, with the help of visiting student Jonas Kapraun. “One day in our group seminar we started to think about color,” Chang-Hasnain explained. “We looked at what was known at the time about how chameleon skin could change color, and we were fascinated by that, and we thought we could design for it.” And as they reveal in a study published in Optica this week, they were right. Read More
Journalists are held to the highest standards of accuracy, which is why so many seemed shellshocked to learn that Brian Williams, beloved NBC Nightly News anchor, lied about his experiences in the Iraq war. In his most recent accounts, Williams claimed to have been in a helicopter shot down by enemy fire — a claim that was vocally disputed by veterans who were with Williams at the time. Williams has since admitted that he got the story wrong, but what’s most intriguing about his apology is the seemingly-genuine level of remorse and confusion he displayed.
“I would not have chosen to make this mistake,” Williams told Stars and Stripes as a part of his retraction. “I don’t know what screwed up in my mind that caused me to conflate one aircraft with another.”
Scientists do. If we assume that Brian Williams didn’t intend to mislead, then it’s actually not that hard to explain why he’d genuinely recall something that never happened. False memories are a fairly well-known phenomenon in human memory research. Early experiments found that people readily remembered things that never existed, like a word on a given list. In more nuanced experiments since, scientists have been able to convince study participants that they were lost in a mall as a kid, had been on a hot air balloon ride, and even committed a crime. In each case, the participants really remembered the events, even though they were completely fake. So it’s not that far of a stretch to think that, after repeating the stories of riding in a helicopter and of another helicopter being hit over and over, Williams got confused and merged his two long-term memories. According to Lars Chittka, a professor of behavioral and sensory ecology at Queen Mary University of London, “It’s psychologically perfectly possible.”
Chittka’s research recently discovered that Williams is not alone: bumblebees, too, experience a similar failure of memory integrity. Read More
A long time ago, the great-great-great ancestors of humans and our relatives began to invest heavily in eyes. Sure, we have other senses — hearing, taste, touch — but primates excel at sight. There are lots of hypotheses to explain why eyesight was so evolutionarily valuable, from finding food to reading faces. But whatever the reason, vision became dominant, while other senses were left to languish, including our sense of smell. Primate olfaction is thought to be so miserable that scientists diminutively refer to our noses as “microsmatic” as opposed to the “macrosmatic” noses of dogs or rodents.
But the more we study the noses of our kin, the more we realize how important scent is to primates. Our closest cousins — the monkeys and apes in the Haplorhini (which refers to the to dryness of our noses) — possess similar sniffers to us, but as you move away from our supposedly feeble-nared lineage, our relatives become better and better smellers. Our most distant primate cousins, the lemurs and other ‘wet-nosed’ primates (Strepsirrhini), have a heightened, almost un-primate-like sense of smell, and recently, scientists have come to appreciate just how much they may rely on information obtained by their noses.
Lemurs use scents to tell who’s who, mark territories, and send important signals about their health or social status. Lemur sex lives, especially, are very smelly. Lemurs can tell whether a given secretion comes from a male or a female, and if female, whether she’s ready to make babies. Forget putting a female lemur on birth control — males will smell the difference, and lose interest.
Now, scientists have discovered that not only does smell come into play before pregnancy, lemurs emit particular scents when they’re expecting. These pregnancy odors are so unique that they can even be used to distinguish if the baby-to-be is a boy or a girl. Read More
Remember that story from last fall about the Chinese chef that died after being envenomated by the severed head of a cobra he was cooking? (Well, if not, here’s a good summary.) Many dismissed the tale outright, thinking a snake couldn’t possibly be lethal if it was no longer living. But a great photo taken this week by Lee Reeve shows just how dangerous venomous animals can be, even after death:
Lee found this wee western diamondback rattlesnake (Crotalus atrox) dead this morning. It was the runt of a recent litter, and had struggled in spite of months of assisted feeding, so Lee wasn’t surprised the little guy didn’t make it. But just because the small snake was dead didn’t mean Lee could be carefree about handling it, as he explained in a Facebook post:
“Looked like he hadn’t been dead for very long, so I took the opportunity to show why they’re dangerous, even when dead. The liquid coming from the fangs is venom, and will be just as toxic as it was when the snake was alive. Prick your finger on and the fang (or even the bottom teeth), and you got yourself an envenomation.”
Even once dead, venom that is stored in the venom gland can be injected into an unsuspecting victim if pressure is applied. And snakes, like other animals (even us!), can exhibit muscle movements post-mortem, so even if the animal isn’t alive, you can’t be sure it won’t move unpredictably. As someone who has worked for years with venomous animals, I’ve had to be careful with my study organisms even months after their demise (frozen venom can stay potent for a long time!).
So should you come across a dead snake — or anything else with venomous fangs, spines, spurs, etc — be careful! Don’t assume the dead are harmless to the living.
Any depth of understanding of biology and ecology is accompanied by this inevitable conclusion: parasites rule the world.
They’re the “man behind the curtain” as fans of Oz would put it. They are the directors and stage managers of the grand production that is life on this Earth, nature’s finest puppeteers, and that we think we have any modicum of control over any species’ physiology in comparison (including our own) is downright laughable.
The latest reminder of our inadequacy when it comes to manipulating biology comes from a fresh paper in Proceedings of the Royal Society B. In it, scientists describe how the parasitoid wasp, Dinocampus coccinellae, is able to manipulate its host, the ladybug Coleomegilla maculata: it uses another parasite, a never-before seen RNA virus.