Here is an excellent article on the biology of sexual orientation. We all know this is a contentious issue — are we born with an orientation, or is it a ‘choice’ that people make? — and the article just lays the facts out for us and points out some of the lacunae in our knowledge.
Since I was asked what a cnidarian “head” is in reference to this work on multi-headed cnidarians, I’ll answer. In short, they don’t have one.
This is a short video clip of myotome formation in a zebrafish embryo — it’s the subject of an upcoming column in Seed, so I’m putting a short visual aid here.
You can Download the Quicktime movie (620K), or you can watch it via YouTube. Watch closely, it’s short and it flies by!
People are always arguing about whether primitive apes could have evolved into men, but that one seems obvious to me: of course they did! The resemblances are simply too close, so that questioning it always seems silly. One interesting and more difficult question is how oysters could be related to squid; one’s a flat, sessile blob with a hard shell, and the other is a jet-propelled active predator with eyes and tentacles. Any family resemblance is almost completely lost in their long and divergent evolutionary history (although I do notice some unity of flavor among the various molluscs, which makes me wonder if gustatory sampling hasn’t received its proper due as a biochemical assay in evaluating phylogeny.)
One way to puzzle out anatomical relationships and make phylogenetic inferences is to study the embryology of the animals. Early development is often fairly well conserved, and the various parts and organization are simpler; I would argue that what’s important in the evolution of complex organisms anyway is the process of multicellular assembly, and it’s the rules of construction that we have to determine to identify pathways of change. Now a recent paper by Shigeno et al. traces the development of Nautilus and works out how the body plan is established, and the evolutionary pattern becomes apparent.
Of course Denyse O’Leary defends Pivar — any crackpot in denial about evolution is a friend of the IDists. They do point out a bizarre flaw in Wikipedia, though, and a common mangling of a concept.
Jason Rosenhouse has dug into the details of the evo-devo chapter of Behe’s The Edge of Evolution and found some clear examples of dishonest quote-mining (so what else is new, you may be thinking—it’s what creationists do). I’ve warned you all before that when you see an ellipsis in a creationist quote, you ought to just assume that there’s been something cut out that completely contradicts the point the creationist is making; Rosenhouse finds that Behe gets around that little red-flag problem by simply leaving out the ellipses.
I just want to expand a little bit on one point Behe mangles and that Jason quotes. It turns out I actually give a lecture in my developmental biology courses on this very issue, the mathematical modeling antecedents to insect segmentation, so it’s simply weird to see Behe twisting a subject around that is so well understood in the evo-devo community, and that was actually well explained in Sean Carroll’s Endless Forms Most Beautiful.
The general pattern of developing positional information in Drosophila starts out relatively simply and gets increasingly complicated as time goes by. Initially, there is a very broad distribution of a gradient of a maternal morphogen. That morphogen then triggers the expression of narrower (but still fairly broad) bands of aperiodic gap genes. The next step in this process is to turn on sets of genes in narrow, periodic bands that correspond to body segments. This next set of genes are called the pair-rule genes, because they do something surprising and rather neat: they are turned on in precisely alternating bands. In the picture above, for instance, one pair-rule gene, even-skipped, has been stained blue, and it is expressed in parasegment* 1, 3, 5, 7, etc. Another, fushi tarazu, has been stained brown, and this gene is turned on in parasegments 2, 4, 6, 8, etc.
One of the common principles used to characterize the rules of growth in developing systems is the idea of allometry. Here, I’ll briefly summarize the concept with a few clear illustrations and a tiny amount of simple math.
In chapter 14 of the Origin of Species, Darwin wondered about the whole process of metamorphosis. Some species undergo radical transformations from embryo to adult, passing through larval stages that are very different from the adult, while others proceed directly to the adult form. This process of metamorphosis is of great interest to both developmental and evolutionary biologists, because what we see are major transitions in form not over long periods of time, but within a single generation.
We are so much accustomed to see a difference in structure between
the embryo and the adult, that we are tempted to look at this
difference as in some necessary manner contingent on growth. But there
is no reason why, for instance, the wing of a bat, or the fin of a
porpoise, should not have been sketched out with all their parts in
proper proportion, as soon as any part became visible. In some whole
groups of animals and in certain members of other groups this is the
case, and the embryo does not at any period differ widely from the
adult: thus Owen has remarked in regard to cuttlefish, “There is no
metamorphosis; the cephalopodic character is manifested long before
the parts of the embryo are completed.” Landshells and fresh-water
crustaceans are born having their proper forms, whilst the marine
members of the same two great classes pass through considerable and
often great changes during their development. Spiders, again, barely
undergo any metamorphosis. The larvae of most insects pass through a
worm-like stage, whether they are active and adapted to diversified
habits, or are inactive from being placed in the midst of proper
nutriment or from being fed by their parents; but in some few cases,
as in that of Aphis, if we look to the admirable drawings of the
development of this insect, by Professor Huxley, we see hardly any
trace of the vermiform stage.
Why do some lineages undergo amazing processes of morphological change over their life histories, while others quickly settle on a single form and stick with it through their entire life? In some cases, we can even find closely related species where one goes through metamorphosis, and another doesn’t; this is clearly a relatively labile character in evolution. And one of the sharpest, clearest examples of this fascinating flexibility is found in the sea urchins.
The Discovery Institute is so relieved — they finally found a textbook that includes a reworked version of Haeckel’s figure. Casey Luskin is very excited. I’m a little disappointed, though: apparently, nobody at the Discovery Institute reads Pharyngula. I posted a quick summary in September of 2003 that went through several textbooks, and showed a couple of examples where redrawn versions of Haeckel’s diagram were used. More recently, I posted a fairly exhaustive survey by Patrick Frank of the use of that diagram since 1923, which showed that it was rare, and that the concept of recapitulation was uniformly criticized. Really, guys, the horse of recapitulationism is dead. Biologists riddled it with bullets in the 19th century, and have periodically kicked it a few times to be sure. For Intelligent Design creationists to show up over a century later and flog the crumbling bones of a long extinguished horse and crow victory is awfully silly.
So how can you still find any vestiges of Haeckel’s work in textbooks?
