We’re all just slow birds

Next time GrrlScientist comes to visit, we’re going to have to record what she says early in the morning, and then play it back ten times faster — I have a suspicion that we’ll hear birdsong.

At least, that’s the way this video art installation by Marcus Coates works. He had people sing strange little nonsense tunes (you can hear one here) that, when played back at a greater speed, recreated the songs of wild British birds. Why, if GrrlScientist had only talked a little faster, I’m sure the whole house would have sounded like an exotic tropical island inhabited by parrots!

Evolution of a sex ratio observed

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If you’ve been reading that fascinating graphic novel, Y: The Last Man(amzn/b&n/abe/pwll), you know the premise: a mysterious disease has swept over the planet and bloodily killed every male mammal except two, a human named Yorick and a monkey named Ampersand. Substantial parts of it are biologically nearly impossible: the wide cross-species susceptibility, the near instantaneous lethality, and the simultaneity of its effect everywhere (there are also all kinds of weird correlations with other sort of magical putative causes, which may be red herrings). On the other hand, the sociological part of the story seems very plausible. There is no feminist utopia, the world goes on in a traumatized and rather complicated way, and the reactions everywhere vary from crazed euphoria to a more common despair. One thing that isn’t at all implausible, and actually has been observed, is a plague that selectively exterminates males.

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Friday Cephalopod: Origin of the Octosquid?

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Mastigoteuthis sp.

Since I recently pointed out the strange news reports of an “octosquid” that even went so far as to call it half squid/half octopus, I thought I’d show why the preliminary assignment to the genus Mastigoteuthis was suggestive. It probably did have 8 arms and 2 tentacles … before it got sucked up in a pipe and flung to the surface. Those two feeding tentacles are delicate.

Figure from Cephalopods: A World Guide (amzn/b&n/abe/pwll), by Mark Norman.

Reinventing the worm

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Sometimes, I confess, this whole common descent thing gets in the way and is really annoying. What we’ve learned over the years is that the evolution of life on earth is constrained by historical factors at every turn; every animal bears this wonderfully powerful toolbox of common developmental genes, inherited from pre-Cambrian ancestors, and it’s getting rather predictable that every time you open up some fundamental aspect of developmental pattern formation in a zebrafish, for instance, it is a modified echo of something we also see in a fruit fly. Sometimes you just want to see what evolution would do with a completely different starting point — if you could, as SJ Gould suggested, rewind the tape of life and let it play forward again, and see what novelties arose.

Take the worm. We take the generic worm for granted in biology: it’s a bilaterally symmetric muscular tube with a hydrostatic skeleton which propels itself through a medium with sinuous undulations, and with most of its sense organs concentrated in the forward end. The last common ancestor of all bilaterian animals was a worm, and we can see that ancestry in the organization of most animals today, even when it is obscured by odd little geegaws, like limbs and armor and regional specializations and various dangly spiky jointed bits. You’ll even see the argument made that that worm is the best of all possible simple forms, so it isn’t just an accident of history, it’s a morphological optimum.

But what if we could rewind the tape of life a little bit, to the first worms? Is it possible there are other ways such an animal could have been built? It seems nature may have carried out this little experiment for us, and we have an example of a reinvented worm, one not constructed by common descent from that initial triumphal exemplar in the pre-Cambrian — an alternative worm.

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Finding a big dead thing would be the highlight of anyone’s day

Usually, on my morning walk, I keep my eyes open for any squid that might have washed up on the sidewalks of Morris. Now I learn that the squid wash up on the beaches of Tasmania. I suppose a place nearer an ocean is a more likely spot. (By the way, TONMO is the site to check for more news on the beached squid carcass—and they think it is unlikely that it’s actually a giant squid.)

Maybe I should start scanning for dead baby mammoths, instead.

Common elements of eumetazoan gene organization in an anemone

We now have a draft of the sea anemone genome, and it is revealing tantalizing details of metazoan evolution. The subject is the starlet anemone, Nematostella vectensis, a beautiful little animal that is also an up-and-coming star of developmental biology research.

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(click for larger image)
Nematostella development. a. unfertilized egg (~200 micron diameter) with sperm head; b. early cleavage stage; c. blastula; d. gastrula; e. planula; f. juvenile polyp; g. adult stained with DAPI to show nematocysts with a zoom in on the tentacle in the inset; h, i. confocal images of a tentacle bud stage and a gastrula respectively showing nuclei (red) and actin (green); j. a gastrula showing snail mRNA(purple) in the endoderm and forkhead mRNA (red) in the pharynx and endoderm; k. a gastrula showing Anthox8 mRNA expression; l. an adult Nematostella.

A most important reason for this work is that the anemone Nematostella is a distant relative of many of the animals that have already been sequenced, and so provides an essential perspective on the evolutionary changes that we observe in those other organisms. Comparison of its genome with that of other metazoans is helping us decipher the likely genetic organization of the last common ancestor of all animals.

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