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Posts Tagged animal behaviour

the gastric-brooding frog – not quite back from the dead Alison Campbell May 08

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I first found out about gastric-brooding frogs (Rheobatrachus silus) when reading Stephen Jay Gould’s essay "Here Goes Nothing" (as published in the 1991 book Bully for Brontosaurus). As he said, these frogs really do live up to their name: the frog

swallows its fertilised eggs, broods tadpoles in its stomach, and gives birth to young frogs through its mouth.

Gould’s tale first introduces another example of the ability of natural selection to shape truly strange behaviour: male Rhinoderma darwini frogs swallow the eggs they’ve fertilised and brood them, not in their stomachs, but in their throat pouches. These are the same pouches that male frogs inflate with air & use in croaking (& whistling, & chirping, depending on species) during courtship, which means that a brooding male is rendered voiceless for the duration. However, it doesn’t stop them feeding normally, something that was first demonstrated way back in 1888 by biologist G.B.Howes (Gould, 1991). I was interested to find out, while researching this post, that the eggs aren’t ingested immediately after fertilisation: they’re laid in damp leaf litter and the male remains close by, but waits until the embryonic tadpoles are wriggling around inside the egg membrane before taking them up in his mouth. (I’m guessing that the behaviour’s triggered by the sight of the wriggling tadpoles.)

As for the gastric-brooding species: Gould provides an engaging description of how this habit was uncovered. Until 1979

[n]atural birth had not yet been observed in Rheobatrachus. All young had either emerged unobserved or been vomited forth as a violent reaction after hatching.

However, scientists finally managed to get a gravid (I hope that’s the right word in these circumstances!) female in an aquarium with their cameras all at the ready:

The mother "partially emerged from the water, shook her head, opened her mouth, and two babies actively struggled out."

It’s no small feat to incubate froglets in this way:

This… female, about two inches long, weighed 11.62 grams after birth. Her twenty-six children weighted 7.66 grams, or 66 percent of her weight without them.

And of course, the incubating female must stop eating and switch off production of gastric juices for the duration!

Sadly, confirmation of this highly unusual method of parental care was rapidly followed by news that the species appeared to be extinct in the wild. Which is why I was so intrigued by my student’s news of its resurrection. However, it seems that reports of that resurrection may have been somewhat exaggerated. A quick search turned up several articles (this one’s a good example) that describe what’s been achieved so far: R.silus tissues that had been in the freezer were thawed, and cell nuclei from those tissues were implanted in enucleate eggs from another, distantly-related, species of frog (an example of somatic cell nuclear transfer). Some of those went on to an early (but unspecified) stage of embryonic development before being frozen in their turn, to await possible reanimation in the future.

In other words, R.silus froglets won’t be hopping around just yet. (And I’m moved to wonder how achievable the aim of the Lazarus project actually is, as it relates to this species. After all, if the gastric brooding part is an essential part of development, where’s the stomach going to come from?)

S.J.Gould (1991) Bully for Brontosaurus. Penguin Books.

tool use – even more widespread than you thought Alison Campbell May 07

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Yesterday my ‘Facebook science feed’ (ie daily browsing) brought me this stunning image (click the picture for the hyperlink). It’s from the book Thinkers of the Jungle: the Orangutan Report (Shuster, Smits & Ullal, 2008) & shows a young orangutan apparently using a long stick in lieu of a spear, copying local fishermen as they hunted with spears. (It’s been blogged about here by Kambiz Kamrani.)

Which is pretty darned amazing. Tool use, & various tool cultures, are now quite well-documented in our nearest living relatives, the chimpanzees, but this is the first time I’d heard about it in a wild orangutan. Also novel: the concept that another great ape might also sometimes eat vertebrates (again, well-documented in the members of some chimpanzee troops). So I decided to dig a little deeper.

It turns out that orangutans do on occasion eat meat, although reports of this are rare. Back in 1997 Sri Suci Utami & Jan van Hooff reported on a total of seven incidents of carnivory by three different female orangutans in Sumatra. More recently Madelaine Hardus & her colleagues (2012) looked at a few additional instances of this behaviour – which in all recorded cases has female orangutans doing the eating and slow lorises as the prey – and considered whether it might be seasonal and related to the availability of other food sources (they felt that it was). Both research teams characterised the behaviour as opportunistic as there was no evidence of any organised hunting activity: it was more a case of a foraging orangutan happening across a slow loris. And they noted that the data are too few to allow any firm conclusions about either the frequency of this behaviour or whether it might be skewed towards one gender or the other.

Nor was this the first documented example of tool use by these Asian great apes. While it’s apparently well-known in captive animals, Carel van Schaik first documented this behaviour among wild-living orangutans back in 1994, in Sumatra (apparently it’s not been observed in populations from Borneo). The animals he was watching were in relatively high densities and surprisingly tolerant of each other – plenty of opportunity to watch and learn from the activities of others, which may be why tool use hasn’t been seen in the wild in Borneo, where the animals are much more widely dispersed).

van Schaik documented the use of sticks to prise open extremely prickly fruit in order to get at the soft flesh within, but more recently he and a group of co-workers provided evidence that, like their cousins the chimps, orangutans in different areas have developed different cultures (around behaviours broader than simply using tools). Which demonstrates (again) that culture is not something that is solely ‘ours’, and suggests that such behaviour may have been around for a very long time indeed, given the antiquity of the split between the lineages leading to modern orangutans and (eventually) Homo sapiens. As van Schaik and his team concluded:

Hence, great-ape cultures exist, and may have done so for at least 14 million years.

 

M.E.Hardus, A.R.Lameira, A.Zulfa, S.S.Utami Atmoko, H.de Vries & S.A.Wich (2012) Behavioural, Ecological, and Evolutionary Aspects of Meat-Eating by Sumatran Orangutans (Pongo abelli). International Journal of Primatology 33: 287-304. DOI: 10.1007/s10764-011-9574-z

S.S.Utami & J.A.R.A.M.van Hooff (1997) Meat-Eating by Adult Female Sumatran Orangutans (Pongo pygmaeus abelli). American Journal of Primatology 43: 159-165

C.P.van Schaik, M.Ancrenaz, G.Borgen, B.Galdikas, C.D.Knott, I.Singleton, A.Suzuki, S.S.Utami & M.Merrill (2003) Orangutan Cultures and the Evolution of Material Culture. Science 299 (5603): 102-105. DOI: 10.1126/science.1078004

 

attack of the zombie snails Alison Campbell Mar 25

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Honestly, sometimes I think the zombie apocalypse is already here. Certainly zombies seem to be flavour of the month (& whatever friends say, I still can’t bring myself to watch Walking Dead). And I’ve written about them myself: well, the insect variety, anyway.

But our developing understanding of how parasites ‘zombify’ their hosts has been developing since well before the latest iteration of human zombies grabbed the popular imagination. I was reminded of this when I saw the video below (in all its over-the-top hyperbolic glory), for I was first introduced to the concept of zombie snails years & years ago by one of David Attenborough’s TV programs**. (According to my aging memory, it would have been an episode of Life on Earth.)

The parasite involved here is a flatworm (strictly speaking, a member of the branch of Platyhelminthes known as flukes) called Leucochloridium paradoxum. It has the delightful common name “green-banded broodsac”, which is a pretty accurate description of its appearance.

Flukes have a fairly complicated life cycle involving multiple hosts and L,paradoxum is no exception: eggs hatch into miracidia, and each miracidium subequently develops into a sporocyst. Each sporocyst contains large numbers of cercariae, which is where the ‘broodsac’ name comes from. In this state they move through the snail’s body to its ocular tentacles, where their bright colours & movement show through the thin skin of the eyestalks. Apparently, if you’re a bird, this looks like a caterpillar… Anyway, once ingested by a bird, the cercariae mature into adults, which reproduce and the whole cycle begins once more.

Where does the mind control part come in? Well, your average snail doesn’t usually spend a lot of time out in the open – such behaviour can make one rather too visible to predators. But instead of their normal photophobic behaviour, infected snails come out in the open, often climbing up grass stems or out onto branches. Combined with the flashy tentacular display – which doesn’t occur in the dark – this makes them easily visible, & easy prey. (Having said that, I do wonder whether this is truly mind control: after all, having a parasite stuffed up your eyestalk must impair one’s ability to detect ambient light intensity.)

 

** And in ‘reading’ up for this post, I see that the wonderful Sir David also covered the zombie ants:

 

a cute little piggy (but why do we find it so?) Alison Campbell Nov 17

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On Facebook yesterday, Science Alert posted a picture of a cute little piggy. Why, they asked,

do humans feel such love for baby animals? Assuredly, this is a psychology experiment waiting to happen!

Not so. For one of my favourite science writers beat them to it, by about 30 years. And in a rather entertaining manner. In an essay originally published in Natural History, Stephen Jay Gould approached this question via a discussion of … Mickey Mouse!

For Mickey, you see, started life as a much less lovable character than he is today. Gould describes him as a “rambunctious, even slightly sadistic fellow” when he first appeared in the film Steamboat Willie. And Mickey had a face to match the personality, with a longer nose, smaller eyes, and much lower forehead that he does today. But over time, “the blander and inoffensive Mickey became progressively more juvenile in appearance” – in other words, he was neotenised :) And in his essay A Biological Homage to Mickey Mouse, Gould asked, why? Why would the Disney artists have made these progressive changes to the famous rodent’s appearance?

As Gould points out, the German ethologist Konrad Lorenz first suggested that the morphological differences between adults and babies provide significant behavioural cues, with child-like features triggering affectionate responses from most adults. Lorenz characterised these features as innate releasing mechanisms, which included a head that was relatively large compared to the body, large eyes, a bulging cranium, & chubby cheeks. Of course, the fact that baby animals (for example, Science Alert’s little pig) also have these features has absolutely nothing to do with causing humans to view them affectionately (although we often do).

So, Gould suggests, the Disney artists – consciously or unconsciously – drew Mickey as more ‘child-like’ in order to evoke an affectionate response – however biologically inappropriate – in those viewing their movies or reading their comics. (After all, an unlovable protagonist was hardly likely to inspire people to keep on buying tickets or books!)

Gould concluded his essay by pointing out that humans, like Mickey, retain some childlike features into adulthood (& that has served us well):

A marked slowdown of developmental rates has triggered our neoteny. Primates are slow developers among mammals. We have very long periods of gestation, markedly extended childhoods, and the longest life span of any mammal. The morphological features of eternal youth have served us well. Our enlarged brain is, at least in part, a result of extending rapid prenatal growth rates to later ages. (In all mammals, the brain grows rapidly in utero but often very little after birth. We have extended this foetal phase into postnatal life.)

 

I’m reminded on the quote that was on the whiteboard down at the Blood Service rooms, last time I donated platelets:

Growing old is mandatory. Growing up is optional.

S.J.Gould (1980) A Biological Homage to Mickey Mouse in ”The Panda’s Thumb: More Reflections in Natural History”. W.W.Norton & Co. 

fostering is the cause… Alison Campbell Aug 27

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… of a lack of time for other things. (Like writing ‘proper’ posts.)

On Friday we became the foster parents of a tiny 4-year-old black toy poodle male (who’d previously been a stud dog). At least, we think he’s about four; could be a bit less or a bit more. Kanji (his new name) is one of several ‘toy’-breed dogs & bitches removed from a puppy-mill operation: kept in small pens and constantly bred to provide puppies for the pet trade. Some went to the pound, but several came out to the kennels where Ben goes for doggy daycare, in the hope that some of their ‘regulars’ could provide foster or permanent homes. Hence, because I am a sucker for sad little poodle faces, Kanji (who’ll be going to his forever home in a few weeks).

kanji (cropped).jpg

 

He’s wearing a coat (taped-up to make it fit – he’s that tiny) because when he arrived at the kennels, his coat – like that of the other little dogs who arrived with him – was way too long & hideously matted, so he needed a very short clip to get rid of all that and feels the cold. He’s off to the vet tomorrow, for desexing & a dental check: his teeth look in fairly good condition, but several of the others had terrible teeth & needed some removed.

Kanji is desperately eager to please, has never been in a house before (& despite that we’ve had only one accident to date, but we watch him carefully!) – and eats faster than a labrador that’s missed breakfast. He’s learned his name, & to come when called (although I definitely wouldn’t trust him at the park just yet), & walks well on the lead considering he’s not had a lot of experience at it. A bright little dog, & very easy to train. (Ben seems to be enjoying having a pack & being the leader of it. I guess it makes a change from being at the bottom of the pecking order, beneath all 3 cats! Kanji follows him like a shadow.)

But my goodness, after learning Kanji’s back-story I will always look sideways at puppies in pet shops. (Not the puppies’ fault, but nonetheless…)

moss s*x and springtails Alison Campbell Jul 22

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Sexual reproduction in flowering plants is often mediated by the birds & the bees (& other animal agents), but up until now the life cycle has appeared much simpler in plants like the mosses. Until fairly recently it was generally accepted that moss sex was a case of ‘just add water’: this released sperm from the male plants which could then swim in the film of water to where the female plants held their eggs. Of necessity this would mean that sperm dispersal could be only over quite short distances, of a few centimetres at most.

However, Todd Rosensteil and his colleagues (2012) decided to confirm the hypothesis that arthropods known as springtails could be involved in transferring sperm between male and female mosses. (Springtails and mosses evolved at the same time, during the Ordovician period.) They posed a number of questions: were springtails really acting as go-betweens in moss sex? If the answer was ‘yes’, how did the moss plants attract their little helpers? And, were the springtails important only if there was not much water around?

Using a common – & cosmopolitan – moss called Ceratodon purpureus, Rosenstiel and his colleagues first determined that female C.purpureus plants emit a significantly greater number of volatile organic chemicals (VOCs), which could act as signals to springtails, than male mosses do. They then carried out a number of experiments.

First of all, they gave springtails a choice between male and female moss plants – the tiny arthropods were much more likely to go for the female plants. (However, it’s not yet clear why the springtails respond positively to this signal: do they get some sort of a food reward?) The same was true when the springtails were given no visual cues & were simply offered a choice between male and female moss VOC samples.

Then, they set up a series of ‘microcosms’ – miniature ecosystems containing moss plants, and where the presence of water and springtails could be manipulated. This time the research team used both C.purpureus and another moss species, Bryum argenteum, in which earlier work had shown that springtails were implicated in spreading sperm around. Some of their microcosms had only the mosses. Others were sprayed with water but had no springtails, or had springtails but no water spray. And some had both springtails and water. The results were fascinating.

When a female moss plant’s egg is fertilised, the resultant zygote grows into a thin brown stalk with a capsule of spores on top: this structure is called a sporophyte. Unsurprisingly, mosses in the absence of both water and springtails produced very few sporophytes indeed. Both the ‘springtail treatment’ and spraying the mosses with water caused a marked increase in fertilisation, as measured by the number of sporophytes produced. But combining springtails and the water treatment saw the number of sporophytes more than double, compared to each treatment on its own. The researchers commented that

[t]hese results highlight the substantial role of microarthropods in facilitating fertilisation in mosses, presumably through enhanced sperm transport.

So maybe we really are looking at something akin to the relationship between flowering plants and their pollinators. And, given the potential antiquity of this arrangement,

it is important to consider the potential role that a plant-pollinator-like relationship may have had in shaping the evolutionary ecology of moss mating systems.

I will definitely be changing the ‘additional reading’ list for my first-years!

 

T.N.Rosenstiel, E.E.Shortlidge, A.N.Melnychenko, J.F.Pankow & S.M. Eppley (2012) Sex-specific volatile compounts influence microarthropod-mediated fertilisation of moss. Nature published on-line 18 July 2012, doi: 10.1038/nature11330

what constitutes beauty? – tarantulas! Alison Campbell Jun 26

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Wellington Zoo has just imported 106 Chilean rose tarantulas as part of a captive breeding program for these lovely animals. From the tone of a letter in today’s Waikato Times, the spiders are also in need of a public relations officer.

For in today’s Waikato Times, we find the following letter:

I could hardly believe my eyes when I read that Wellington Zoo had just imported 106 venomous tarantulas from Wales.

OK, I thought, someone who’s understandably not too keen on potentially dangerous exotic animals coming in (although the tarantulas don’t pose any real risk to our biodiversity, given that the zoos will need to keep them in heated terrariums: they would not be able to survive long in the wild). But I was wrong. The writer continues

Collections development manager Simon Eyre said: “We’re excited that visitors will be able to see them close up and gain a real appreciation for their beauty.”

Am I missing something? A lamb or deer is beautiful – but a cruel, carnivorous tarantula?

Well, I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder**, but what’s this cruelty stuff? Tarantulas do what tarantulas do, and nature is indeed ‘red in tooth and claw’ at times. That’s nature for you. But the overlay of cruelty is a human-perspective construct.

Given that these spiders can live for more than 20 years, how many defenceless crickets, grasshoppers, etc will be subjected to a cruel and terrifying death when dropped into the tank with these monsters who “use their venom to liquefy the insides of insects”?

At 4-6 crickets every 3 weeks (or a locust a week), the answer is about 2700/tarantula, over those 20 years. The intake would be pretty much the same, whether the tarantulas were in the wild or in captivity. The scare quotes really aren’t needed for the spiders’ feeding method, though; again, it’s just the way spiders – all spiders – feed. They’re an example of fluid feeders, sucking up pre-digested food once the enzymes in their venom have broken down the dead prey animal’s tissues.

In the wild, prey would at least have a chance to save themselves. In this day and age, when we can learn everything about animals from documentaries and the internet, there is no justification for imprisoning any animals in zoos. Importing venomous spiders seems like madness as well.

I have to disagree – we can’t “learn everything” from sitting in front of a monitor. We can be awed & amazed & horrified, perhaps, but I do think that the world would be a sadder place if people never had the opportunity to actually see a living, breathing meerkat, or tiger – or tarantula. A well-designed zoo is as little like a ‘prison’ as possible, and in a world where the natural environment is under threat from human activity, for many species a zoo may be a place of refuge. (Pere David’s deer would have long since become extinct without one.) Those animals on the other side of the glass, or fence, or moat are ambassadors for that endangered environment in the way that a ‘virtual’ creature can never be.

 

** and if you want a beautiful little spider, how could you possibly go pass the lovely peacock spider? This gorgeous little salticid has the usual jumping spider cuteness and complex courtship dance, all set off by colours I’ve never seen before in a spider.

literate primates? Alison Campbell Apr 15

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ResearchBlogging.org

A while back now, I wrote a brief piece commenting on the ability of at least some chimpanzees to recognise numbers. So it didn’t come as a huge surprise to hear that members of a baboon troop could distinguish between ‘real’ words and random strings of letters. Yes, really.

A group of psychologists led by Jonathan Grainger (Grainger, Dufaur, Montant, ZIegler & Fagot, 2012) have just published a paper in Science entitled “Orthographic Processing in Baboons (Papio papio)”, where ‘orthography’ is a standardised system for using a particular writing system (script) to write a particular language. The team noted that most research on visual word recognition hasn’t treated words as ‘visual objects’, instead dealing with the relationship between information at the letter level and ‘higher-level linguistic properties including semantics & syntax. But it seems that the ability to recognise words as entities resides in a part of the brain that’s also involved in recognition of objects & faces, and primates are pretty good at faces, so Grainger & his colleagues decided to investigate whether baboons could extend their facial recognition skills to identifying words.

More specifically:

The computation of letter identities and their relative positions is referred to as orthographic processing, and there is a large consensus today that such processing represents the first ’language-specific’ stage of the reading process that follows the operations involved in the control of eye movements (bringing words into the focus of central vision) and early visual processing (enabling visual feature extraction). In the present study, we examined whether the ability to efficiently process orthographic information can operate in the absence of prior linguistic knowledge.

Hence the decision to work with a non-human primate species: baboons don’t use any phonological equivalents of English words (or, most likely, words in any other human language), & so can’t be said to have any prior knowledge of a human linguistic system .

So, what did the researchers do? They worked with a captive social group of baboons that were living in a large enclosure with various climbing structures & sleeping areas, & set things up so that the animals also had free access to a set of test computers that used touch-screen technology & provided operant conditioning: the animals would get a food reward for correctly recognising an English word (as opposed to a string of random letters). The ‘free access’ thing is important – the baboons could get involved, or not, as they chose.

Using that operant conditioning, the baboons learned

to recognize four-letter English words and distinguish them from strings of letters that are not English words.

Each time a letter string (word or non-word) showed on the screen before it, a baboon could touch either a blue cross (for a random set of letters such as DRAN, LONS, TELK, or VIRT) or a green oval (for a four-letter word such as such as DONE, LAND, THEM, or VAST). A correct response was rewarded with a blank computer screen & some food (dry wheat), while an incorrect choice got a green screen for 3 seconds. They began with a single genuine word option & worked up from there (my emphasis):

Words and nonwords were presented randomly in blocks of 100 trials. The 100-trial sessions were composed of 25 presentations of a novel word to learn, 25 presentations of words randomly selected from already learned words, and 50 nonword trials. Each new word was added to the ever-increasing pool of already learned words, once responses to that word exceeded 80% correct within the preceding session. Thus, in terms of explicit information available to the baboons, a word was defined as a string of letters that was repeatedly presented, whereas a nonword was rarely repeated.

During the course of the experiment, individual animals learned to recognise a surprising number of 4-letter English words (from 81 for ‘VIO’ to 308 for ‘DAN’) – correctly distinguishing the words they recognised from a total of 7832 ‘non-word’ combinations.

Obviously the baboons were simply making random choices at the start of the experiment, and in fact they did this in quite a biased way, with each individual tending to go repeatedly for either the green or the blue button. But – after 2000 trials, they became a lot more accurate, correctly identifying words around 75% of the time. And they were doing this on the basis of different frequencies of letter combinations, rather than ‘just’ memorising the real words (although that would be a rather amazing feat in itself). What’s more,

words that were seen for the first time triggered significantly fewer ’nonword’ responses than did the nonword stimuli. This implies that the baboons had extracted knowledge about what statistical properties characterize words and nonwords and used this information to make their word versus nonword decision without having seen the specific examples before.

And:

The more similar a nonword was to a known word, the more false positive responses it produced.

The researchers noted that this mirrors responses in skilled human readers in the same situation – a rather unexpected outcome.

So, are we looking at some feature(s) of the way the primate brain is wired, that could be regarded as exaptations when it comes to processing visual symbols? Grainger & his colleagues certainly think so:

The primate brain might therefore be better prepared than previously thought to process printed words, hence facilitating the initial steps toward mastering one of the most complex of human skills: reading.

Grainger J, Dufau S, Montant M, Ziegler JC, & Fagot J (2012). Orthographic processing in baboons (Papio papio). Science (New York, N.Y.), 336 (6078), 245-8 PMID: 22499949

biological oddities, including the naughty bits Alison Campbell Aug 05

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Last night I gave a talk up in Auckland, on various biological oddities (mostly from the animal kingdom and, all right, mostly to do with s*x). You can slip a lot of serious science in once the audience’s attention has been captured by the naughty bits! (I would hate folks to think that biologists are totally obsessed with s*x. This is not true. But related stories do tend to focus the attention.)

Anyway, I was chatting about it with some of our grad students this morning and they said, oooh, we wouldn’t might reading more about that. Various people (including me & Grant) have blogged them all before, so I’ll bring all the links together in one place but won’t fill in too many of the gaps.

First up, zombies! More particularly, the use of the z-word to capture public attention & direct it to a serious subject: modelling (& more recently, how to deal with) the spread of infectious disease. The outcome of the modelling work was brought to the world’s attention by a paper with the eye-catching title, When zombies attack. More recent advice on getting through an infectious disease outbreak – things like stocking up on food & water & staying home – was presented by the US Centres for Disease Control under the heading: Preparedness 101: Zombie Apocalypse. (The daughter, who pays attention to such things, felt the advice was sadly lacking in that it doesn’t actually say anything about how to dispose of the zombies who might actually get into your house. Practicalities, people!)

This naturally segued into the tale about zombie ants – zombified by a parasitic fungus. Parasites can have quite marked effects on their hosts’ behaviour – changes that maximise the reproductive success of the parasite. I first got interested in this topic years ago, when I read Carl Zimmer’s excellent book, Parasite Rex. In the case of the ants (Camponotus leonardi), infection with the fungus Ophiocordyceps unilateralis causes the ants to leave their usual habitats, hang upside down off leaves or stems, bite on to the plant – & die. Then when the fungus produces a fruiting body it can rain down spores onto the heads of unsuspecting ants passing underneath.

Then we moved on to the slightly risque stuff, beginning with the interesting observation that female crayfish release urine during courtship. This influences the males’ behaviour & allows the females to assess the quality of their suitors. The original report includes a link to a video – using fluorescent dyes allowed the researchers to visualise the timing of urine release & so relate this to the more obvious behaviour patterns displayed by their subjects.

Couldn’t leave out the tree shrews living in montane forests in Borneo, who use the ‘pitchers’ of some pitcher plant species as toilets. This is quite a cool example of coevolution, where Nepenthes lowii plants gain up to 100% of their nitrogen requirements from shrew faeces, while Tupaia montana (the shrew) gains sugars from licking the plant’s nectaries, enticingly displayed on the inside of the pitcher’s lid. (Well, enticing if you’re a shrew…)

Also in the forest, we have fruit bats. As Ed Yong describes, in one species of fruit bat, the duration of copulation is affected by whether or not, & how long, the female licks the male’s penis during copulation! Presumably this would have an impact on mating success. (In empid flies, for example, duration of mating is affected by the size of the food gifts that males bring for females, & longer copulations tend to produce more offspring.)

On the other hand, duration of copulation would have no impact at all on breeding success in the sole recorded example of homos*xual necrophilia, involving two mallard drakes (one of them very very dead). Not that this stopped the living drake from mating vigorously with the corpse – for 75 minutes!!

Mallard drakes are randy little beggars, with their activity extending to forced copulations with hapless females. This is usually later in the season & often involves multiple drakes, & can be so physical & prolonged that the females may drown. This promiscuous behaviour in waterfowl has a morphological correlate. Males of highly promiscuous species, where there are high levels of sperm competition, have long & tightly coiled penises (matched by long & tightly coiled vaginas in the females). At the other end of the spectrum are the monogamous species like black swans, who are much less-well endowed in the genital department. Females in the promiscuous species are able to control who they mate with by contracting or relaxing muscles that allow them to shorten the vagina, so that in a forced copulation the male may not actually be successful in passing on his genes, as his sperm may not be deposited high enough in the female’s reproductive tract.  Fascinating stuff – & caught on film (again, hat tip to Ed Yong).

As you may imagine, the discussion after last night’s talk was extremely animated :-)

the sarcastic fringeheads Alison Campbell May 30

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Wouldn’t that make a great name for a band?

Rather to my surprise, I’ve discovered that ‘sarcastic fringeheads’ are actually…

… fish!

I heard this from the daughter when she came home from an evening of watching David Attenborough videos with some friends, & so of course I had to learn more. First up was hunting down the video, which you’ll find here, if my embedding doesn’t work. (I love listening to Attenborough’s voice – it’s got to the point where, when I’m reading one of his books, I can hear his voice speaking the words in my mind.) The first thing that struck me about that clip wasn’t the fringehead itself but the wonderful bed of waving brittlestar arms surrounding it. Just glorious! But the fish… belligerent, beautifully coloured… that amazing gaping set of ‘lips’… and my, what a mouthful of sharp pointy teeth they have! 

 

Perhaps fortunately for divers, these fish are quite small – around 30cm long. What they lack in size, they seem to make up for in sheer aggression. But why ‘sarcastic fringeheads’? We talked about it over dinner with friends last night, & one friend suggested that it might have something to do with that mouthful of teeth. After all, ‘sarcastic’ means ‘cutting’ (& not in a nice sense), and the word ‘sarcasm’ was originally derived from a Greek word with the literal meaning ‘to strip off the flesh’. And I suppose ‘fringeheads’ may have something to do with those amazing flaps of skin & flesh that male fringeheads can project around their gaping mouths, using them in mouth-to-mouth combat with neighbouring territory owners..

I still think it would be a good name for a band, though :-) No, wait, someone’s already used it for the title of an album. Rats.

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