Posts Tagged ‘animals’
“Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better”*…
Further, in a loose fashion, to yesterday’s post: The Most Observed Animals and Plants (as reported on iNaturalist), from Randall Munroe and his wonderful xkcd (@xkcd.com)
* (attributed to) Albert Einstein
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As we keep an eye out, we might recall that it was on this date in 1964 that US disc jockeys were sent boxes of animal crackers wrapped in promotional material touting The Animal’s second single, “The House of the Rising Sun,” which had just entered the UK charts. The gambit worked (though, of course, it didn’t hurt that the song was, as Cashbox described it, “a haunting, beat-ballad updating of the famed folk-blues opus that the group’s lead delivers in telling solo vocal fashion”); the tune reached #1 on U.S. pop charts.
“The advance of genetic engineering makes it quite conceivable that we will begin to design our own evolutionary progress”*…
The obligations of a multi-day meeting (and the travel involved) mean that, from this issue, (R)D will be on pause until February 12 or 13 (depending on how connections play out…)
… and indeed the evolutionary progress of others species. But, Deputy Co-chair of the Nuffield Council on Bioethics Melanie Challenger asks, have we been sufficiently thoughful about the implications of this power?…
In 2016, Klaus Schwab announced that we had entered the Fourth Industrial Revolution. This is the era of the industrialization of biology, the leveraging of technologies to modify biological materials to meet human goals. While the first two Industrial Revolutions exploited energy and materials and the Third exploited digital information, the current revolution is a direct manipulation of life-forms and life’s substances.
The signature invention of this new era is CRISPR, dubbed “genetic scissors.” CRISPR is a ground-breaking method of making precise changes to DNA for a wide range of possible uses from disease reduction and elimination to the eradication of “pest” species and increases in the productivity of farmed animals. CRISPRs (the best-known system being CRISPR-Cas9) originate in RNA-based bacterial defense systems. Naturally occurring in species of bacteria, the Cas9 enzyme cuts the genomes of bacteriophages (viruses that will attack a bacterium), saving a record for defense against future infections. Scientists realized that this immunological strategy could be coopted to innovate a general tool for cutting DNA.
The optimism among those that seek to utilize these tools has been palpable for some time. As noted by the researchers at The Roslin Institute, creators of Dolly the Sheep, the world’s first cloned mammal: “Until recently, we have only been able to dream of…the ability to induce precise insertions or deletions easily and efficiently in the germline of livestock. With the advent of genome editors this is now possible.”
But the technologies of this new industrial era present ethical dilemmas and unknown consequences. What will it take to ensure that this revolution avoids worsening the enormous challenges we already face, especially from biodiversity loss and climate change? How can we get the balance right between the benefits and risks of human inventiveness?
In the 1980s, tech theorist David Collingridge presented his eponymous dilemma for those seeking to control potentially disruptive technologies. First, there is an “information problem” in which significant impacts are often invisible until the technology is already in use. Second, there is a “power problem” in which the technology becomes difficult to shape, regulate or scale back once it has become integrated in our lives. If we are going to navigate the Fourth Industrial Revolution successfully, we need to examine our use of CRISPR through the Collingridge dilemma.
The investors and engineers of the first industrial revolutions in the nineteenth century provide a vivid example of the information problem. They hoped that innovations like the combustion engine would unlock efficiency across multiple human sectors, from transportation to logistics to tourism. Such optimism was not unwarranted. Yet, as Collingridge’s dilemma suggests, it is easier to picture gains than to predict trouble. Building road systems and infrastructure carved capital movements into the landscape, symbolising freedom and the flow of wealth and creativity. Yet the striking visual parallels with our circulatory system did not stimulate anyone to forecast the ninety per cent of people today who are exposed to unsafe pollution levels from traffic or the associated health burdens from heart and lung disease to asthma. Nobody then foresaw the yearly deaths of two billion or so non-human vertebrates on our roads today, or that high traffic areas would cause localised declines in insect abundance of at least a quarter and, in some studies, as much as eighty per cent.
And, of course, most calamitous of all, there is climate change. Traffic emissions account for a fifth of all contributions to global warming. Yet the idea that a profitable and efficient machine like the combustion engine might precede devastating shifts in temperature and weather patterns was scarcely conceivable at the time. Now, it is a near ubiquitous feature of our understanding of the world.
When it comes to the engineering of biology, a similar information problem abounds. Not only is our understanding of biological life incomplete, but we know little about what the industrial processes that we are advancing inside the cells of organisms will do. The changes are both physically and ethically occluded. The ramifications of this and other related biotechnologies are not only rendered uncertain by the inherently complex nature of biological systems but are largely inaccessible to our imaginations.
We must struggle with the radical character of the industrialization of biology. Gene drives (a tool to increase the likelihood of passing on a gene) can weaponize the bodies and reproductive strategies of organisms to bias evolution in a directed way. Artificial chimeric organisms (those composed of cells from more than one species) mix and match biological traits and functions to bring about beings that wouldn’t occur otherwise, transforming autonomous organisms into useful parts for plug and play. But while evolutionary processes will sift those forms and strategies that most benefit future organisms, our acts of creation primarily benefit us alone. Survival of the fittest gives way to the contrivance of the functional.
Yet, despite the disruptive nature of these technologies, CRISPR is already entrenched in our research and economic landscape: here is the power problem of our new technology. The efficiency of modern versions of CRISPR has allowed the technology to pick up users fast. It is now a commonplace tool in labs around the world – with uses amplified during the pandemic – and continues to be utilized in ethically provocative trials, including the cloning of mammal species. CRISPR has been normalised by stealth.
This largely uncontested rollout has been enabled by biases in the evaluation of who is at risk. Put bluntly, humans worry about humans, and take risks to non-humans less seriously. As such, there are vastly different acceptance thresholds for certain kinds of uses and these can be exploited by those that seek to deregulate or profit from the technologies…
… This discrepancy is evident in the anxieties of Jennifer Doudna, one of the Nobel-winning scientists who made the CRISPR breakthrough. In her book, A Crack in Creation, she writes of a dream in which Hitler appears to her with the face of a pig and questions her excitedly about the power she has unleashed. Doudna’s anxieties relate not to the pigs of her dream (who are subject to a wide range of CRISPR applications) but to the potential of eugenics re-emerging in human societies. Her dream reflects not only the inevitability that any technology such as this will be equal parts destruction to rewards, but also that we must confront uncomfortable ideas about what it is to be a creature as much as a creator. Recognizing that these technologies work in the bodies of all biological beings, including humans, is a continual assault on the reasoning behind a hard moral border between us and them.
At present, the lives of non-human animals are the experimental landscape for our technologies. Their powerlessness to protest the uses of their bodies, wombs, physical materials, or futures leaves them vulnerable to being the test sites for a wide range of possible human applications. As a direct consequence of the serviceability of the bodies of organisms, CRISPR has been integrated into our world with little fanfare, directly facilitating the power problem that will, eventually, impact us too. Given Collingridge’s dilemma, what concepts and strategies could help us reduce the risks from CRISPR?
The first thing we need is a new definition of pollution. When it comes to combustion engines and other technologies of the first industrial revolutions, pollution is by far the most consequential harm. Direct impacts include the release of particulate matter or chemical compounds like nitrogen oxides or carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. Pollution from traffic has an immediate impact, especially fifty to one hundred metres from the roadside, with effects that we can measure, such as reduced growth rates or leaf damage in plants, or changes to soil chemistry and nutrient availability. On the other hand, long term effects of emissions, such as global warming, or the sustained impacts of waste on organisms and ecosystems, have proven tricky to anticipate and even harder to hold in mind…
…What is curious about the Fourth Industrial Revolution is that while several branches of science are arming us with the evidence that justifies an expansion of the moral circle to encompass a larger range of organisms, other branches are cranking up the objectification and exploitation of life-forms. As a result, there’s an obvious gap. Without addressing this, most concepts of pollution will remain anthropocentric. This may prove a critical misstep…
A provocative argument that “Gene Editing is Pollution,” from @TheIdeasLetter. Eminently worth reading in full.
See also: “The Ethics and Security Challenge of Gene Editing” and “The great gene editing debate: can it be safe and ethical?“
* Isaac Asimov
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As we ponder permuted progeny, we might send microbiological birthday greetings to Jacques Lucien Monod; he was born on this date in 1910. A biochemist, he shared (with with François Jacob and André Lwoff) the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine in 1965, “for their discoveries concerning genetic control of enzyme and virus synthesis.”
But Monod, who became the director of the Pasteur Institute, also made significant contributions to the philosophy of science– in particular via his 1971 book (based on a series of his lectures) Chance and Necessity, in which he examined the philosophical implications of modern biology. The importance of Monod’s work as a bridge between the chance and necessity of evolution and biochemistry on the one hand, and the human realm of choice and ethics on the other, can be seen in his influence on philosophers, biologists, and computer scientists including Daniel Dennett, Douglas Hofstadter, Marvin Minsky, and Richard Dawkins… and as a context setter for the deliberations suggested above…
“Always be yourself. Unless you can be a narwhal. Then always be a narwhal.”*…
Nicola Jones talks with Dr. Martin Nweeia, an independent scientist working with the Inuit to unravel the many mysteries of the one-tusked “unicorn of the sea”…
Martin Nweeia is a modern Renaissance man. He has a degree in English and biology, a working dental practice, and a side interest in zoology and anthropology; he has composed for documentary films and has become an expert on narwhals — the mysterious, one-toothed “unicorns of the sea.”
The male narwhal typically hosts a roughly eight-foot-long, single exterior tusk, whose function has been a mystery for centuries. Nweeia has obtained many grants to investigate the narwhal and, in more than 20 trips to the Arctic, he has compiled ambitious logs of Indigenous knowledge about the tusk, conducted in-depth studies on the material it is composed of, and attached heart and brain monitors to narwhals to try to determine what they can sense through the protrusion.
The male narwhal typically hosts a roughly eight-foot-long, single exterior tusk, whose function has been a mystery for centuries. Nweeia has obtained many grants to investigate the narwhal and, in more than 20 trips to the Arctic, he has compiled ambitious logs of Indigenous knowledge about the tusk, conducted in-depth studies on the material it is composed of, and attached heart and brain monitors to narwhals to try to determine what they can sense through the protrusion.
Nweeia wrote about the narwhal in the 2024 Annual Review of Animal Biosciences. He spoke with Knowable Magazine about his work on teeth and narwhals and the insights he has gained from the Inuit who live with and hunt these whales….
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… There are so many properties of the narwhal tusk that defy every principle I ever learned in dental school. The diet of the narwhal includes some pretty large fish. This whale has the capability of producing more than a dozen teeth in its mouth, but it genetically shuts this off — says “No, we don’t need those teeth. Instead, what we’d rather have is this giant tusk that erupts into the ocean.”
All mammalian teeth patterns are symmetrical. But a narwhal typically has this eight- to nine-foot tusk on the left, and on the right side, nothing visible. Typically, in mammals, females have the same distribution of teeth as males; narwhals couldn’t be more different. The males typically have the tusk and the females typically do not.
The story was that this gigantic tusk was just for social hierarchy, like a lion’s mane or a peacock tail. The more I read, the less sense this made. Just to get the best girl of the lot? It doesn’t seem plausible to me. This animal has gone through an enormous sacrifice to create this thing. I thought, this animal deserves a better story…
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… The Inuit already had a much better description of the tusks than anything in Western science. They could tell from a tusk where a particular animal was from, which I found extraordinary: A shorter, thicker task would mean that they came from further north; longer and more thin tusks came from further south.
They knew the female tusk, when present, is thinner and more tightly wound. The tusk seems very rigid, but when we were in the field the hunters would say, oh, no, no, this thing bends and flexes. We thought, that’s impossible. So we get the material back in the lab and sure enough, it can bend and flex 12 degrees. I realized that they were going to be the most important key link for me to get the knowledge I needed to inform the science…
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… It is kind of opposite from our teeth, which are hard on the outside and softer as they go in; narwhal teeth are very flexible on the outside, and as you get to the core where the nerve is, it’s like an iron rod.
In 2005, we released work suggesting the tusk is a sensory organ. Our team found that over about an eight-foot section of tusk there were about 10 million sensory connections to its ocean environment, through dentinal tubules. All mammals have dentinal tubules — the difference with narwhal is that they’re open, from the inside nerve to the outside of the tooth.
In people, these tubules are below our gum line. People who have bone recession or receding gums can expose them, and this makes them sensitive to cold foods. So having the tubules open is unusual, especially for an animal living in the cold Arctic environment — it’s the last place you would expect to see this.
Current evolutionary evidence shows that teeth are derived from ancient fish scales, which had the capability to detect pressure, temperature and gradients of particles (like salt). We have slowly evolved to use our teeth for chewing and biting. But as we know from going to a dentist, our teeth can sense pain, and temperature. After all, they were, originally, sensory organs…
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… I’m interested in “ocean osteoporosis.” As the ocean absorbs more carbon dioxide, it gets harder to form calcium carbonate. This affects shells. I’m looking at different trophic levels in the Arctic, to see how high up the levels this possibly can go. I’m also looking at nanoplastics, and their impacts on animals in the Arctic. To tell a story, you need a charismatic animal. You need a good storyteller. And I think narwhals are great storytellers…
Modern science and indigenous wisdom partner to understand a unique animal: “A lifetime of love for the charismatic narwhal,” from @nicolakimjones in @KnowableMag.
* Anonymous
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As we ponder protrusions, we might note that today is World Oceans Day. An occasion to celebrate “the ocean, its importance in our lives, and how we can protect it,” Canada’s International Centre for Ocean Development (ICOD) and the Ocean Institute of Canada (OIC) had first proposed the event at the Earth Summit– the UN Conference on Environment and Development (UNCED) in Rio de Janeiro– in 1992. The Ocean Project started global coordination of World Ocean Day starting in 2002. “World Oceans Day” was officially recognized by the United Nations in 2008. The international day supports the implementation of worldwide Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) and fosters public interest in the protection of the ocean and the sustainable management of its resources.
“Nature uses only the longest threads to weave her patterns, so that each small piece of her fabric reveals the organization of the entire tapestry”*…
More than 70 years ago, mathematician Alan Turing proposed a mechanism that explained how patterns could emerge from bland uniformity. As Amber Dance explains, scientists are still using his model — and adding new twists — to gain a deeper understanding of animal markings…
There’s a reason fashion designers look to animal prints for inspiration. Creatures have evolved a dizzying array of patterns: stripes, spots, diamonds, chevrons, hexagons and even mazelike designs. Some, like peacocks, want to be seen, to attract a mate or scare off a rival or predator. Others, like tigers or female ducks, need to blend in, either to sneak up on prey or to avoid becoming lunch themselves.
Some patterns arise simply or randomly, but others develop via complex, precise interactions of pattern-generating systems. Their beauty aside, the intricacies of these systems are inspiring the scientists who aim to elucidate how the tiger got its stripes, the cheetah its spots and more besides.
Mammals like cats and dogs can have white tummies. They get them in a straightforward way: As the embryo develops, pigment-making cells originate along the site of the future spine and migrate down and around toward the belly. But sometimes they don’t make it all the way. Where the pigment cells run out of steam, the white begins.
The black dots on Dalmatians are generated randomly. So are the black-and-orange splotches on calico cats.
But the stripes of chipmunks and tigers, the speckles on fishes and chickens, and many other glorious animal features are laid down with exquisite precision. In a remarkable feat of self-organization, a uniform surface becomes patterned.
The person who figured out how this happens was Alan Turing [here]. You may know him as the 20th century mathematician who broke Nazi codes during World War II and developed early concepts in artificial intelligence.Turing also turned his math skills to understanding how regular features could emerge on the developing embryo. Scientists since then have applied his equations to the development of such patterns as fingerprint ridges, the places where hairs will sprout, and color patterns like stripes and spots.And it turns out he was really onto something: Today, scientists studying animal patterns still find Turing’s ideas to be remarkably effective — especially when combined with other factors that elaborate the patterns further….
A colorful tour of what scientists are learning today, starting with Turing’s theory: “Spots, stripes and more: Working out the logic of animal patterns,” from @amberldance in @KnowableMag.
* Richard Feynman
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As we contemplate coloring, we might spare a thought for Emanuel Mendes da Costa; he died on this date in 1791. A naturalist, he published A Natural History of Fossils in 1757 and served as clerk (from 1763) to the Royal Society– from which he embezzled membership funds to indulge his reckless penchant for collecting. When caught in 1767, the treasury was short by £1500—a substantial amount in those years. He confessed; his collections were auctioned to make restitution; but he was still sentenced for five years to debtor’s prison. After release he scraped by, with lecturing about fossils, translating, and trading in mineral, fossil and shell specimens. He wrote two books on shells and was perhaps the first to coin the word conchology. Still impoverished, he died in penury.
“Always carry a flagon of whiskey in case of snakebite and furthermore always carry a small snake.”*…
Your correspondent has to be away for a few days, so (Roughly) Daily will, for a time, be more roughly than daily… Regular service should resume on or around Thursday, August 10. Meantime, a little reminder of the extraordinary pageant that is life…
Amar Guriro on a community with a unique lifestyle…
… This is the mound of snake charmers, Jogi Daro, which was once situated about one-and-a-half kilometres away from Umerkot city [in Pakistan]. With Umerkot’s population swelling and new housing schemes having popped up to meet demand, Jogi Daro now finds itself part of the city proper.
Each house owns at least one black Indian cobra, but most actually own several snakes, including cobras, kraits and vipers, locally known as Lundi Bala. None of the serpents are defanged but children play with them as if they were toys. [Ustad Misri, snake charmer and chieftain of his tribe] says this is because a certain contract exists between the jogis and the serpents living with them.
“A snake cannot bite a jogi child, and even if it does, it will not harm our child since we administer a drop of snake venom as suti (first food) to our newborns. This establishes immunity against snake poison for their entire life,” claims Ustad Misri.
Jogis or snake charmers are a gypsy community in Sindh. They mostly wander around the entire year from one place to another, either in search of a livelihood or a snake…
The way of the snake: “Rule of the jogi,” from @amarguriro in @Dawn_News.
See also: “How did snakes lose their limbs? Mass genome effort provides clues,” from @ScienceMagazine.
* W. C. Fields
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As we ponder partnerships, we might recall that it was on this date in 1769 that the Portolá expedition, a group of Spanish explorers led by Gaspar de Portolá, made the first written record of the tar pits in 1769. Father Juan Crespí wrote:
While crossing the basin, the scouts reported having seen some geysers of tar issuing from the ground like springs; it boils up molten, and the water runs to one side and the tar to the other. The scouts reported that they had come across many of these springs and had seen large swamps of them, enough, they said, to caulk many vessels. We were not so lucky ourselves as to see these tar geysers, much though we wished it; as it was some distance out of the way we were to take, the Governor [Portolá] did not want us to go past them. We christened them Los Volcanes de Brea [the Tar Volcanoes].
(The English name of the site is redundant, as “La Brea” comes from the Spanish word for “tar.”)
While evidence suggests that prehistoric native Americans used and traded the asphalt, the site is now noted for the fossils found there (first by Professor William Denton in 1875). Among the prehistoric Pleistocene species associated with the La Brea Tar Pits are Columbian mammoths, dire wolves, short-faced bears, American lions, ground sloths (predominantly Paramylodon harlani, with much rarer Megalonyx jeffersonii and Nothrotheriops shastensis), coyotes, ancient bison, and the state fossil of California, the saber-toothed cat (Smilodon fatalis)– largely dating from the last glacial period.
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