It wasn’t for nothing that I asked these questions yesterday (and some of the responses were very helpful). Over at the Science Progress blog, I’ve now done a full piece about what happened in science in 2009, which includes observations like these:
It was a year of complete U-turns in science policy. President Barack Obama reversed George W. Bush’s dramatic restrictions on embryonic stem cell research, and the first 13 new stem cell lines were approved for federally funded research since 2001. Meanwhile, the Obama Environmental Protection Agency moved to regulate carbon dioxide emissions, finding that they do indeed endanger the public.
It was also the year of the first-ever passage, by a 219-212 margin in the U.S. House of Representatives, of a cap-and-trade bill that would cut domestic greenhouse gas emissions—but not the year for any parallel action in the U.S. Senate.
It was the year that everyone seemed to own an iPhone and use the word “app” in regular conversation. It was the year Twitter went from being a mere annoyance to the epitome of web-based communication.
It was a year that saw the very first Nobel laureate scientist assume a cabinet position, in the figure of U.S. Secretary of Energy Stephen Chu.
It was the year of….many, many, many other things, some funny, some outrageous, some profound. Read here for the whole list, and leave comments about anything you think may have been left out!
When it comes to understanding fire, chimpanzees might have a leg up not only on the rest of the animal kingdom, but also on those of us in the human species who would sprint in the other direction at the sight of a blaze. A study published in the American Journal of Physical Anthropology argues that these primates don’t panic when the flames start, and could even understand the basics about how fire behaves.
Primatologist Jill Pruetz has been observing chimps in Senegal since 2001, but it was in 2006 that she first noticed how the animals reacted to wildfire. When people in the area set fires to clear the land, the chimps refused to tuck tail and run. “It was the end of the dry season, so the fires burn so hot and burn up trees really fast, and they were so calm about it,” Pruetz said of the chimps. “They were a lot better than I was, that’s for sure” [LiveScience].
For her study, Pruetz divided up the mastery that humans have over fire in three cognitive steps: understanding how it behaves, learning to contain and control it, and figuring out how to start one. Most animals fail the first step, reacting by instinct. West African reed frogs flee at the sound of fire, brush-tailed bettongs in Australia become dazed and confused, and stress hormones jump in African elephants [ScienceNOW].
As the flames neared her chimps, however, they didn’t flee. If they had, it would have required long travel in the open sun in 110-degree temperatures with scarce water supply. Instead, she said the chimps reacted calmly. They monitored the fire, moved to keep out of its way, and in doing so, minimized the amount of energy they expended to stay safe [Des Moines Register]. Pruetz even documented the males doing a series of exaggerated motions she dubbed the “fire dance,” a nod to the so-called “rain dance” Jane Goodall documented in chimps. And, she said, the chimps uttered a distinct sound in response to approaching fire.
Pruetz’s paper probably kick up a few arguments over what this really means—whether chimps really “learn” how fire behaves, and whether that shows how early humans might have learned to control fire, which scientists like Richard Wrangham argue was a critical step in our evolution. In any case, if you find yourself stuck in a Senegal wildfire, follow the chimps.
I pay a lot of attention to weird things, and to weird weather. I thought I had heard it all: mammatus clouds, inversion layers, parhelic arcs.
But I can still be surprised! For example, I would’ve sworn up and down that snow rollers — giant rolls of snow that look like huge white Ho-Hos — were fake. But they are, in fact, real. Back in March, Tim Tevebaugh saw some in Idaho and snapped away. I couldn’t believe the photos, they’re so weird, I had to contact Tim. He kindly replied, and gave me permission to post pictures:
There they are, sitting on a plain. Evidently, wind conditions need to be just right, and the snow must be precisely the right consistency. I don’t think anyone has seen them form, but I suspect a small clump of snow gets picked up by the wind and rolls into a snowball. When it gets too big it collapses, starts rolling again, picks up more snow, collapses again, and eventually forms these long cylinders. It’s just a guess, but it seems logical. [UPDATE: several commenters have pointed out that the ball need not collapse to make a roller; I had supposed that happened to help spread the ball out horizontally. I stand corrected!]
Just how bizarre are these things? Here’s another picture:
If you look at the big one on the right, you can see how it looks like a piece of foam that’s been rolled up, a testament to how it formed. It like looking down the maw of the Doomsday Machine from Star Trek. I would love to see something like this as it happened. I’ve not seen anything like it in Boulder, but we’re getting plenty of snow here, and it’s plenty windy here so one day I hope to spot them.
I’m perpetually amazed at the imagination and creative power of nature. Snow rollers! Who knew?
Tip o’ the Frosty magic top hat to James Oberg and my thanks to Tim Tevebaugh for sending me the pictures and giving me permission to post them.
There comes a time in every science writer’s career when one must write about glass duck vaginas and explosive duck penises.
That time is now.
To err on the side of caution, I am stuffing the rest of this post below the fold. My tale is rich with deep scientific significance, resplendent with surprising insights into how evolution works, far beyond the banalities of “survival of the fittest,” off in a realm of life where sexual selection and sexual conflict work like a pair sculptors drunk on absinthe, transforming biology into forms unimaginable. But this story is also accompanied with video. High-definition, slow-motion duck sex video. And I would imagine that the sight of spiral-shaped penises inflating in less than a third of second might be considered in some quarters to be not exactly safe for work. It’s certainly not appropriate for ducklings.
So, if you’re ready, join me below the fold.
This story is actually a sequel. Back in 2007, I wrote in the New York Times about the work of Patricia Brennan, a post-doctoral researcher at Yale, and her colleagues on the weirdness of duck genitals. The full story is here. (Brennan also appeared in a Nature documentary, starting at about minute 38:35.)
In brief, Brennan wanted to understand why some ducks have such extravagant penises. Why are they cork-screw shaped? Why do they get so ridiculously long–some cases as long as the duck’s entire body? As Brennan dissected duck penises, she began to wonder what the female sexual anatomy looked like. If you have a car like this, she said, what kind of garage do you park it in?
Brennan discovered that female ducks have equally weird reproductive tracts (called oviducts). In many species, they are ornamented with lots of outpockets. And like duck penises, duck oviducts are corkscrew-shaped. But while male duck penises twist clockwise, the female oviduct twists counterclockwise.
Brennan speculated that all this bizarre anatomy is the result of a peculiar form of evolution known as sexual conflict. A strategy that allows females to reproduce the most offspring may not be so good for males, and vice versa. For example, male fruit flies inject their mates with lots of chemicals during sex, and those chemicals make her less receptive to other males, thereby boosting his chances of fathering her eggs. But those chemicals are harsh and will make female flies sick. Females, in turn, have evolved defenses against those chemicals, blunting their effects.
With many examples of sexual conflict in nature, Brennan wondered if sexual conflict between male and female ducks was giving rise to their weird genitals. Female ducks pair off with male partners for the breeding season, but they also get harrassed by other males, sometimes being forced to have sex (and sometimes dying from the attacks). A third of all duck matings are forced.
And yet only 3 percent of the ducklings that female ducks produce come from such forced matings. Brennan speculated that the female ducks can block forced copulations with their mismatched spirals. And they might also be controlling which drake got to fertilize their eggs by socking away the sperm of different mates in different pockets. And the extravagant penises of males might be the result of an evolution around those defenses.
As I reported in 2007, Brennan discovered a pattern that supported this hypothesis. Among 16 species of water fowl, species in which the males grew long phalluses also had females with more turns in their oviduct and more side pockets. The ducks were escalating an arms race, genital for genital.
But Brennan didn’t actually know how duck penises actually moved through the labirynthine oviduct, and how the oviduct’s shape might affect the drake’s delivery of sperm. So she traded calipers and rulers for high-speed video.
Brennan and her colleagues traveled to a California duck farm, where workers are expert at collecting sperm from drakes. The first step in the collection is to get a drake excited by putting a female duck in his cage. The drake climbs on top, and then the penis emerges. Before its emergence, a drake’s penis is usually completely hidden from view, tucked inside his body like an inside-out sock. Drakes unfurl their pensises differently than male mammals. In mammals, the penis becomes erect as blood flows into the spongy tissue. Ducks pump lymph fluid instead. And as the fluid enters the penis, it does not simply become engorged. It flips rightside-out.
Here’s how it happens, in slow motion. A Muscovy drake everts his penis in about a third of a second, at speeds of 1.6 meters per second.
Of course, drakes don’t mate with the air. Having made this video, Brennan still needed a way to see how a duck penis actually performs its appointed task. Unable to film duck penises in a real female oviduct, she built a fake oviduct out of silcone. She then managed to get a drake to mate with it. But the overwhelming force of the explosive penis broke the fake oviduct.
So Brennan turned to glass. Her new fake oviducts were strong enough to handle the drakes, and she started filming. Here’s what she saw.
As Brennan had predicted, the counterclockwise turns of an oviduct slow down the expansion of the duck penis, compared to a straight tube or a clockwise one. Brennan suspects that female ducks slow down males trying to force a mating, but they can also let their partner’s penis move faster through the oviduct. They have been observed to relax and contract their muscles arond the oviduct.
Female ducks can’t stop an unwanted male from delivering his sperm, but the obstacles in their oviducts may give them control over what happens to that sperm. The female ducks may use their oviducts to slow down the expanation of the penis, so that by the time the drake ejaculates, the sperm are delivered in the lower reaches of the oviduct. A female ducks’s partner, with her cooperation, can deliver sperm further up the oviduct. With the wanted and unwanted sperm delivered to different places in the oviduct, a female duck may be able to store the sperm in different pockets. And then she can choose which drake will father her duckling. For all the explosiveness male ducks may display, it’s the female ducks that get the final say.
[Postscript: I tell Brennan’s story in more detail in my new book, The Tangled Bank: An Introduction to Evolution. It opens the chapter on sex–where I show how the same processes that explain these strange genitalia explain many other things in the natural world.]
Reference: Patricia L. R. Brennan et al, “Explosive eversion and functional morphology of the duck penis supports sexual conflict in waterfowl genitalia,” Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, doi: 10.1098/rspb.2009.2139
Thirty thousand years is a long time to hang out in any one place, much less stuck inside a tiny salt crystal. But microbiologist Brian Schubert says he found just that in a crystal from sediments in Death Valley—bacteria-like archaeans that have lived inside the tiny enclosure for all those years.
The researchers announced in a paper in Geology that they could culture the archaeans in the liquid from inside the crystal, liquid they estimate to be 22,000 to 34,000 years old. Previous studies suggesting even longer lives for microbes stuck in salt crystals (one even getting up to an insane-sounding 250 million years) have been met with skepticism. But even doubters of those studies say Schubert’s could have more validity, as the Death Valley area wouldn’t have allowed recrystallization (which would permit the liquid to escape and fresh microbes to get in) for 10,000 years at the least.
Moreover, Schubert thinks he can explain how his microbes managed to stay alive so long. Every crystal that contained live archaeans also contained dead cells from a salt-lake alga known as Dunaliella, which contain high concentrations of glycerol. The team suggest that the glycerol had seeped out of the cells, and that the archaeans lived off this.
Dunaliella cells are such good fodder that the microbes could live much longer than 30,000 years, says Schubert. He calculates that a single Dunaliella cell contains enough glycerol to meet an archaean’s minimal needs for 12 million years. “We have inclusions with dozens of these algal cells inside and just a couple of archaeans, so they have basically a limitless supply,” he says.
Pterosaurs could fly 40 up to miles an hour but were unable to launch themselves like modern birds. So how did these prehistoric giants get off the ground?
What if waiting for treatment in the emergency room was like waiting for your toaster to ding, and you knew exactly how long you were going to wait? Many healthcare providers are hopeful that by banding together to coordinate information about how congested their waiting rooms are they can help people make the best decision about where to seek medical attention, according to the Los Angeles Times:
In part to ease the minds of those seeking emergency care — or at least disclose how bad the wait will be — a growing number of suburban emergency rooms around the country are advertising wait times.
Some post the times on their websites. Others tweet, send text messages or display the times on huge highway billboards. A few are testing a service by a start-up company, InQuickER, that allows patients to register online, pay a small fee and hold their place in line while they wait at home.
But what seems like a good bit of pubic service has some doctors concerned that the posted wait times will be misleading. For example, a patient suffering ominous chest pains might be persuaded to drive to a hospital further away for a shorter wait even though he may have been bumped to the front of a longer line closer to home.
So while it may be useful for someone with a minor condition to seek out a shorter wait time, doctors in the article say that people with serious injuries should get to the closest help possible — and fast.
Damien Bouic, who graciously allowed me to use his very cool renderings of Earth with rings in my article about, um, the Earth with rings, has translated that post into French. I took French many years ago, and all I can still say is Je suis desole, Madam, mais nous n’avons pas du jambon aujord hui. So I hope he did a good job.
On the scorecard the play is marked simply as an “error.” But that hardly conveys the magnitude of the blunder committed by Chicago Cubs outfielder Milton Bradley. It is June 12, 2009, in a home game against the Minnesota Twins. Top of the eighth, one out. Bradley catches a routine fly ball. Thinking he has just ended the inning, he tosses the ball into the stands and poses for pictures. Only then does he remember that there are three outs in an inning, not two. The Twins score a run. The Cubbies eventually lose the game. A rookie mistake? Actually, Bradley was a seasoned pro executing moves he had performed thousands of times. Rather, it is a classic example of a brain fart—an inexplicably stupid error in a straightforward task made by someone with abundant skill and experience. We are all prone to them, although most brain farts are less spectacular (and less humiliating) than Bradley’s—calling your spouse by your ex-spouse’s name, for instance, or zipping straight past the freeway exit that you take every day on your way home from work.
Art Hobson, an Emeritus physicist at the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville, has reviewed our book for the American Physical Society’s educational forum, and it seems he liked it. A quote:
Summarizing its prescription, the book’s final chapter states “We must fundamentally change the way we think and talk about science education,” and this means rethinking the education of scientists as well as the public school and college education of non-scientists. “We don’t simply need a bigger scientific workforce: We need a more cultured one, capable of bridging the divides that have led to science’s declining influence. …We must invest in a sweeping project to make science relevant to the whole of America’s citizenry.” I couldn’t agree more.
Friday night, after a two-week diplomacy fest that could be called “difficult” at best, leaders of some of the most powerful countries in the world announced that they reached an 11th hour agreement to conclude the United Nations Copenhagen climate summit. After speaking to the assembly, President Barack Obama spent the day going in and out of meetings with Chinese prime minister Wen Jiabao. They met later with Mammoghan Singh of India, President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva of Brazil, and South African President Jacob Zuma, before a White House official leaked that these big players had reached an agreement.
Obama had flown to Denmark for the meeting’s final day, hoping to snatch an agreement from the jaws of growing defeatism among those desiring a climate accord. Obama’s 15-hour, seat-of-the-pants dash through Copenhagen was marked by doggedness, confusion and semi-comedy. Constrained by partisan politics at home, and quarrels between rich and poor nations abroad, he was determined to come home with a victory, no matter how imperfect [AP].
And the result was far from perfect. First, the nations assembled failed to meet a binding agreement, as many feared would happen going into the meeting. In addition, the document that remained at the end was the work of those five nations, which has now ignited a storm of protest around the world. Despite the fact that South Africa’s leader was around for the 11th hour agreement, for instance, its climate representatives are now steaming mad. South Africa’s environment minister Buyelwa Sonjica and her two top climate change negotiators said Tuesday that part of the blame rested with the way the host guided the conference. In their first media briefing since returning from talks in the Danish capital that ended Saturday, the trio described an atmosphere of distrust and suspicion that Denmark was plotting to force its own position on other nations [AP].
Europeans, too, balked at Copenhagen’s conclusion. U.K. Climate Secretary Ed Milliband, in a Guardian editorial, also slammed the process, but pointed the finger at China in particular. We did not get an agreement on 50% reductions in global emissions by 2050 or on 80% reductions by developed countries. Both were vetoed by China, despite the support of a coalition of developed and the vast majority of developing countries [The Guardian]. European Union representatives reacted negatively to the loose agreement, both for not being part of the talks among the five nations and for the agreement’s failure to set binding goals. The markets reacted too. European and United Nations carbon prices fell the most since February after the Copenhagen climate accord didn’t set targets that would boost demand for permits [Bloomberg].
Copenhagen did result in one actual ruling: One hopeful sign is the accord’s pragmatic agreement to pay countries to prevent deforestation. Reversing one of the Kyoto Protocol’s failures, which perversely rewarded countries for planting trees but not for protecting them, this is precisely the kind of big picture cooperation between developed and developing economies that is needed to make a dent in global emissions [CNN]. The U.S. pledged $100 billion to aid poor nations in reducing emissions, and China promised greater transparency in how it cuts carbon, but neither of those are binding.
The parlor game this week is explaining why the Copenhagen talks went down in flames. Writing for CNN, Lisa Margonelli of the think tank New America Foundation says the meeting’s scope was a disadvantage, not an advantage, as gathering the world together to craft rules that would be agreeable and effective was “scientifically and practically naive.” The BBC blames 24 hour news, EU politics, and even the snowy weather for giving skeptics ammunition. (No, apparently we haven’t gotten past the weather/climate issue. Just ask Homer Simpson.)
The BBC hit it closest with their number one reason, however: “Key governments do not want a global deal.” As long as that’s the case, and major U.N. meeting occur in this format, no climate conference will produce anything but a document so wishy-washy that the effect on global emissions is negligible.
When it comes to understanding fire, chimpanzees might have a leg up not only on the rest of the animal kingdom, but also on those of us in the human species who would sprint in the other direction at the sight of a blaze. A 
There comes a time in every science writer’s career when one must write about glass duck vaginas and explosive duck penises.
Thirty thousand years is a long time to hang out in any one place, much less stuck inside a tiny salt crystal. But microbiologist Brian Schubert says he found just that in a crystal from sediments in Death Valley—bacteria-like archaeans that have lived inside the tiny enclosure for all those years.
Let the Copenhagen fallout continue.