The bats won out as the topic for this week's PEOTS (although, sadly, the bat populations are losing millions to the fungal White Nose Syndrome since 2006). Look at these incredible images from today's New York Times:
Continuing last week's examination of an animal with low cancer rates, the Bowhead Whale, this week's look at bats shows a mammal with almost non-existent tumours. Bats are also carriers of many viruses from Ebola to mumps and measles without showing symptoms of the diseases they carry.
From the New York Times article:
"Scientists traditionally have divided bats into two big suborders: the fruit-eating megabats and insect-eating microbats, deeming the groups so distinct they might have evolved flight independently."
"Yet recent genomic analysis in the journal Science reveals that the ability to fly dates to the earliest days of the bat lineage, some 90 million years ago, and that megas did not split from micros for another 10 million years, after which the micros alone evolved the capacity for echolocation, to help them hunt their insect prey." [These are Wrinkle-lipped bats in Thailand; again, a naming process in which I wish I'd had a part].
"The new study also described other important traits that bats of both suborders share. For one thing, researchers found an “unexpected concentration” of genes involved in repairing damaged DNA. Those fix-it factors, the scientists proposed, are the bat’s solution to the blistering demands of flight.
When a bat flies, its heart beats an impressive 1,000 times a minute, and its metabolism ramps up 15-fold over resting rate. By contrast, said David Blehert of the United States Geological Survey’s National Wildlife Health Center in Madison, Wis., the metabolism of a running rodent is seven times normal, “and that’s only for a short burst, whereas a bat can fly at 15-fold metabolic rate for hours.”
All that fiery flapping ends up generating a huge number of metabolic byproducts called free radicals, which could mutilate the bat’s DNA were it not for its extra-strength molecular repair crew. And countering DNA damage happens to be a great strategy for overall health, which could explain bats’ exceptional longevity and apparent resistance to cancer."
Fiery flapping? Swimming all day? A key for both the Bowheads Whale and the over 1200 bat species appears to be movement. . .and rest. The torpor or hibernating phase of bats' lives are being interrupted as they spend time preening (rather than resting) when the White-nose Syndrome fungus is present.
These prolific bats can live up to 40 years with little cancer or exhibiting virus illnesses. . .and overgrooming and lack of rest due to a fungus does them in?!
Steph
I imagine the fungus is itchy and/or annoying; I am not making fun of the plight of these beautiful creatures.
ReplyDeleteWell, I will. ...
ReplyDeleteI would think the existence of White Noise Syndrome would "scramble" bats' sophisticated echolocation abilities. ... Er, what? White Nose? Never mind.
Every time I see or hear the term "free radical," I think of Abbie Hoffman, Angela Davis, etc.
What about the metabolism of a flapping hummingbird (or humming flappingbird, you choose)?
LegoTorpido
Hmmmmm or hummmmm, Lego, the little hummers only live, on average, 3-5 years versus up to 40 years for bats.
DeleteHummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Here's the entrance to the bat cave in Hibernia, NJ, near the beginning of one of my favorite hikes, on the Four Birds Trail, leading up to the Hawk Watch at Wildcat Ridge. There's always a pleasantly cool breeze coming from the cave entrance in the summer, but signs warn visitors not to disturb sleeping bats in the winter. (Insert hibernating in Hibernia quip here.) Something like 90% of NJ bats have been wiped out by WNS, which apparently was introduced to the US by European tourists at Howe Caverns in NY.
ReplyDeleteDo the bats do okay flying in between the slats at the cave entrance, jan?
DeleteHmmmmmmmm, cavers and/or caving tourists tend to go to caves worldwide and bring fungi along. . . Decontamination of clothing and shoes seems like a monumental task so I can see just closing down the caves to humans.
I assume the bats can get through the slats without a problem. They're pretty small and agile.
DeleteAs discussed in the New Yorker article on New Zealand a few weeks ago, the problem of invasive species carried intentionally or not by humans is pretty much insurmountable. (As linguistically implied, it just occurred to me, by all the "New" place names. Gotta bring a little bit of old York, old Zealand, etc., with us when we set off for new places, make it feel homey.)
And Asa Lovejoy lost a coin toss so we have Portland, Oregon, instead of Boston, Oregon.
DeleteAnd then there's always Wyoming Valley in Pennsylvania. . .
Speaking of Lovejoy, any luck spotting that comet? We haven't had a clear evening that wasn't dominated by a bright moon lately here.
DeleteI saw a fuzzy green streak one of our non-snowy nights in January but it was pretty unimpressive.
DeleteBTW, re: my comment yesterday, at the end of last week's blog:
ReplyDeletePATOOMB is a great collection on the beginnings of the science of molecular biology, to which I have the most tenuous of connections. Gunther Stent was my academic grandfather, since Chuck Lent, my advisor in grad school, was a student of his. I met Stent and James Watson, and a bunch of other luminaries in the field, at the Cold Spring Harbor Symposium on Quantitative Biology, in 1975, when the topic was The Synapse. I best recall the after-lecture get-togethers, wine and cheese on the lawn, where, e.g., David Hubel set up his little Questar telescope on a picnic table and entertained the crowd with binary stars, etc.
Exciting stuff! Why the Picasso-esque painting on the cover of PATOOMB, I wonder.
DeleteI think that's a caricature of Delbrück.
DeleteOf course. So you and the Cold Spring Harbor Gang were on the frontier of bacter-ia.
DeleteSo exciting to be part of something unfolding before you, I imagine.
No, I was a young grad student in neuroscience, who would never go any further in that field. But it was fun to hang with the big dogs for a few days.
DeleteThe Cold Spring Harbor lab is beautiful in the summer, and it's always been known as a great place to work. The Symposia dining room has (or, at least, had) a great reputation as well. I remember one lunch was trout amandine. Chuck, knowing I wasn't a fish eater, did a quick bit of dissection, pulled up a long white stringy thing, and popped it into his mouth, declaring, "The lateral line organ: my favorite part!"
Lateral line canals in sharks are so awesome. We dissected tiger sharks in a lab right before Friday lunch. Simply could not make the jump to eating fish those days. Yogurt and peanut butter became my go-to lunch fare.
DeleteMy Smith profs were on the forefront of some plate tectonics stuff unfolding. They spoke fondly of playing with the big dogs.
Steph, any thoughts on the recent shakin' goin' on in your home state?
ReplyDeleteIt is a little bit surprising to have those earthquakes so far east of the Connecticut River Valley rift zone. The big fault along the east side of the valley is where you'd expect to see most seismic activity. They are near the Thames River and river valleys can be associated with smaller rift zones/faults, too. Or the earth can just be adjusting. No fracking there so we can't blame the oil biz. Interesting.
DeleteI also learned about Walt Dropo, the Moose from Moosup in eastern CT, a MLB player whose parents came from your favorite high school place, jan, Bosnia and Herzegovina.
Looks like someone could use a roof rake.
DeleteI'd forgotten I'd changed my profile picture yesterday to the view from my friends' cabin in the mountains so I was trying to tie together earthquakes and roof rakes ;-). I will pass along the idea. . .
DeleteMeanwhile, I would like a forest-cloud sugar maple, please.
This comment has been removed by the author.
DeleteIf a sugar maple falls in a cloud forest and there's no bat there to echolocate it, what color noise does it make?
DeleteIf a sugar maple falls in a cloud forest and there's no bat there to echolocate it, what color noise does it make?
DeleteTouché, Paul. . .
DeleteThat reminds me of:
A delivery truck took a turn too hard and tipped over, spilling its contents of toupés all over the intersection. When I drove by, police were combing the area.
While on my surgery rotation, we had a patient who had fallen into an upholstery machine. He's fully recovered now.
DeleteCould you perhaps couch that story in a bit more mystery, jan?
DeleteI admit that was edited for comedic effect. Actually, he lost his hand in the accident. What was most fascinating about that operation was the surgeon. He was paraplegic, after a donorcycle accident. He had a unique routine for scrubbing up. After washing, but before entering the OR, he'd dry his hands with a sterile towel, don a pair of sterile gloves, and wheel himself into the OR. Then he'd remove the soiled gloves, and the scrub nurse would gown and glove him as usual. He'd been (or had been training to be) a general surgeon before the accident, but being in a wheelchair meant he couldn't stand over a patient to access the abdominal cavity, e.g., so he became a hand specialist instead.
DeleteA determined doc.
DeleteIf I had one of those trees, it would be even more endangered.
ReplyDeleteI don't think there's any relation between the Lyman of the Smith conservatory and Harvard Lyman, who taught me biochem in college. He told us of his brothers, Stanford and Princeton. Growing up, he said, he was known as Harvey, of course, while Stanford was Stan, and Princeton was ... Princeton, if you knew what was good for you. (Apparently, Princeton had a more diplomatic side as well; he had a prominent career in the State department.)
A lot to live up to. . .Did they have a sister named Smith? ;-)
DeleteHere's the scoop on the Lyman Conservatory naming
Should've had Seven Sisters, including Smith....
DeleteHow about a REAL science discussion?
ReplyDeleteQuite dreadful.
DeleteWonder what they'd say about this?
Beagle? You mean the Dog Star?
Deletehahahaha
DeleteWord Woman,
DeleteThat's a pair of sunk fences, you know.
LegoNorthPoleSunkenFencesAreCalledHoHos
Does that establish a neutral zone, or would that be hahaahah?
DeletePerhaps when walking across Hawaiian lava barefoot. Oh. . .oh.
DeleteSo, IS the moon a star or a planet?
Delete#satalight;-)
DeleteSpace Junk
DeleteI missed this until now. Great song and out of this world (sort of) images, Paul. Grazie.
DeleteIs a 3-word hashtag a word? It's the WOTY.
ReplyDelete#thatisridiculous
DeleteBlooming Zoetrope Sculptures
ReplyDeleteReminds me of the mindless fun to be had making Lissajous patterns with an oscilloscope and a couple of signal generators.
DeleteBowditchy!
DeleteAnd, aside from bats, mammal-less here. . .
How about a noam for your garden?
ReplyDeleteOm-my, these are great!
DeleteGigapixels of Andromeda.
ReplyDeleteIt's enough to make one go all Carl Sagan on you. (Billions, billions, ...)
DeleteI'd like to work this word from A Word A Day into today's conversations (not above the sandal! ;-) ):
ReplyDeleteultracrepidarian:
"Pronunciation:
(uhl-truh-krep-i-DAYR-ee-uhn)
Meaning:
adjective: Giving opinions beyond one’s area of expertise.
noun: One who gives opinions beyond one’s area of expertise.
Etymology:
From Latin ultra (beyond) + crepidarius (shoemaker), from crepida (sandal). Earliest documented use: 1819.
The story goes that in ancient Greece there was a renowned painter named Apelles who used to display his paintings and hide behind them to listen to the comments. Once a cobbler pointed out that the sole of the shoe was not painted correctly. Apelles fixed it and encouraged by this the cobbler began offering comments about other parts of the painting. At this point the painter cut him off with “Ne sutor ultra crepidam” meaning “Shoemaker, not above the sandal” or one should stick to one’s area of expertise."
Giving opinions beyond one’s area of expertise: isn't that why the Web was invented?
DeleteSo, is "crepe sole" redundant?
DeleteCrepe-y, creepy. . . what have you?
DeleteNew post about gerenuks is up.
ReplyDelete