Reasons to download the entirety of the “Savage Lovecast” archives, in order

Dan Savage. Photo by soundfromwayout.

8. Because you’re training for a marathon/ putting in a lab-work marathon/ cleaning house/ doing anything that’s better with someone talking in your earphones, and you’re just not getting enough with NPR, Slate, and that one about the things from the British Museum—and you’ve already used up all the Audible.com freebies offered via those podcasts

7. To hear Dan take a victory lap after Rick Santorum lost his Senate seat (while trying not to dwell on how U.S. politics have changed/not changed/gotten ten times worse since then)

6. As part of creating a drinking game for a sex-ed themed cocktail party (maybe you’re hosting a fundraiser for Planned Parenthood?)

5. For the episode recorded immediately after Thanksgiving dinner

4. To pin down the exact moment of origin of the phrase “tech-savvy at-risk youth”

3. For every time Dan has a special guest/ co-host/ foil

2. Because back in the day Dan and/or the TSARY weren’t so selective about which calls deserved an answer

1. For the old, Monty Pythonesque brass band intro music

It’s all available via www.thestranger.com!

Edit, 2011.09.29: Corrected link to the Savage Love archives. Oops! ◼

At long last, an answer!

To my exasperated question:

Comic from Darwin Eats Cake.

It’s … actually kinda plausible. But I think that, if Guillaume manages to overcome his vexation, he might also note that there’s probably some sort of marginal fitness benefit associated with landing a regular gig at Slate. ◼

Science online, tastefully uphostered placeboes edition

No in-flight drinks on this trip. Photo by pheanix.
  • Take note, Book of Leviticus. Menstruating women are not poisonous.
  • Oops? As many as half of all neuroscience papers may make a basic statistical error.
  • Talk about commitment. Migrating birds supply themselves with water by breaking down their own muscles.
  • Well, why not? The placebo effect may be as much about waiting room décor as it is about a well-designed sugar pill.
  • First, remove the stack of unread manuscripts from thine own inbox. Is peer review broken, or are we all just lousy peers?
  • Billions. The costs of introduced insects, estimated.
  • Not a monster-themed alternative history, either. Abraham Lincoln, forensic meteorologist.
  • Hundreds of billions. The economic return on investment of ones of billions in NIH research funding, estimated.
  • Wait. Rats’ ears can ring? A possible cure for ringing ears, demonstrated in rats.
  • Prince, biologist, geologist, anarchist, fan of Adam Smith and Jean-Baptiste Lamarck. Eric Michael Johnson interviews the author of a new biography of Peter Kropotkin.
  • Might be pretty humid, though. Astronomers identify an exoplanet about the right distance from its primary to support life as we know it.
  • Brains aren’t as hard to come by as we thought. A new phylogeny of the molluscs supports four independent origins of complex brains.

 ◼

Passwords and eviction notices: How do plants keep their bacterial partners honest?

The nodule-y roots of a soybean plant. (Flickr: Pro-Soil AG Solutions)

ResearchBlogging.orgNitrogen is one of the elemental building blocks of life as we know it—it’s a basic component of amino acids, which are in turn the building blocks of proteins, which form the building blocks and moving parts of every living cell. The nitrogen interwoven in our tissues originated as part of the atmosphere we breathe, but the path from atmosphere to living flesh is far less direct than drawing a breath. Atmospheric nitrogen becomes useful to us animals only via an intimate relationship between a plant and bacterial growing in its roots.

The bacteria, called rhizobia, have the rare ability to “fix” free-floating nitrogen into biologically useable form. In return for this nitrogen source, the host plant allows the rhizobia to infect a specialized knob of root tissue, a root nodule, which it supplies with sugar for the benefit of its nitrogen-fixing guests. The plant uses the fixed nitrogen to make proteins for its own use, and anything that eats the plant afterwards benefits.

If all this sounds familiar, it’s because the interaction between plants and rhizobia is the focus of my developing postdoctoral research, and I’ve been writing about it as I’ve done more reading about it. Specifically, I’ve been interested in how plants might be able to make sure their root nodules house helpful bacteria rather than freeloaders, who enjoy the sugar supply inside the nodule without fixing nitrogen in return.

I’ve discussed a couple of different mathematical models that suggest some options. However, models are really just formal ways to follow through the implications of a particular idea, not necessarily descriptions of what actually transpires between a plant and the rhizobia inside its roots. So I thought it might make sense to step back and survey what we presently know about what goes on inside those root nodules.

Continue reading

Ten years

Ten years ago today, I was in organic chemistry lab when the prof walked in and mentioned, somewhat casually, that an airplane had apparently hit one of the World Trade Center towers in New York. We all assumed it was some accident, and I distinctly remember picturing a small private plane of some sort.

By the time I was done synthesizing and purifying and precipitating, I returned to the dorm to find everyone gathered around CNN, watching looped footage of not one but two full-sized commercial airliners striking the towers.

Ten years later, it seems the entire United States is still gathered around 24-hour cable news, still watching the planes strike the towers. If, like me, you find it easiest to contemplate those ten years in numbers, Wired’s Danger Room has compiled an elegant series of infographics illustrating the costs and consequences of the last decade.

Graphic by Danger Room.

It’s only data. It cannot, of itself, tell us whether the last ten years were well spent. ◼

Science online, hyphenated surnames edition

A caribou in Denali National Park, Alaska. Photo by blmiers2.
  • Biodiversity riches needn’t beggar their neighbors. Longstanding conventional wisdom that protected wild areas depress the economies of nearby communities turns out to be untrue.
  • You say you want a revolution? Humans may riot not because we’re evolved to riot; but because we’re not evolved to deal with stressful times.
  • Not unlike wearing a wedding band. The decision to take your spouse’s last name when you marry may say a lot about you, except when it doesn’t.
  • And, yes, like humans. Even though it sounds like whistling, dolphins form sound by vibration, just like other mammals.
  • Interesting yes, but not quite enlightening. It’s no surprise that conservatives and liberals think differently, so it’s probably not surprising that their brains look different.
  • To panic, or not to panic? A conversation about the upcoming, highly-researched pandemic film Contagion.
  • Simultaneously awesome and disgusting. A virus prompts caterpillars to climb to the top of a tree, then melts their flesh.

Science online, hungover ticks edition

Nasty stuff, regardless of where you drink it. Photo by Darby Rose.

Carnival of Evolution, September 2011

Photo by joiseyshowaa.

The September issue of the Carnival of Evolution is online now at The End of the Pier Show. Okay, it’s not as glamorous as the better known September issue, but it’s still the number one spot for a month’s worth of online writing about descent with modification and all its scientific, cultural, and political ramifications. A few highlights:

Cheese curds and pigeons and butter sculptures

Oh, my. I spent Saturday—yes, pretty much all of it—at the Minnesota State Fair with friends. I have to admit, it was impressive. The livestock barns were bio-geeky fun, and the food (sampled strategically, in moderation) was uniformly good, especially the milkshakes at the dairy barn. Deep-fried cheese curds are amazing, and I do not want any more until next year.

Anyway, I’ve finally gotten around to weeding through the photos I took, so here you go. Check out the QR code made out of seeds from the “seed art” competition (which is far from the most peculiar and specific competitive category we encountered) and the sheep in vaguely sinister protective coveralls.

Making themselves at home: Spider mites disable plant defenses, then spin their own

Tomatoes, one of many plants that play unwilling host to red spider mites. Photo by sylvar.

ResearchBlogging.orgPlant-eating insects must overcome some of the cleverest weaponry in the living world—from poisonous latex to sticky hairs—just to find a meal or a place to lay eggs. Many deal with their host plants’ toxic defenses by digesting them or sequestering them safely for personal use, but the red spider mite Tetranychus evansi simply turns them off.

Tetranychus evansi eats a wide range of plants, from tomatoes to potatoes. One female mite can eat enough to lay 50%-70% of her weight in eggs every day, and while that isn’t much on the scale of a single, miniscule red mite, it adds up quickly when colonies build into dense clusters on host plants, sucking them dry and covering them in webs of spun silk.

Most host plants respond to such an onslaught by ramping up production of chemicals that make them unpalatable to herbivores, or that interfere with the mites’ ability to digest plant tissue. However, a team of Dutch and Brazilian biologists recently found that T. evansi somehow short-circuits this response [$a].

The team, whose senior author is the Dutch biologist Arne Jannsen, discovered that mites raised on leaf tissue from tomato plants previously attacked by T. evansi survived longer and laid more eggs than mites raised on tissue from plants that had never been attacked. Analsyis of RNA from tomato leaves attacked by the mites revealed that they were producing fewer of the signalling proteins associated with responding to insect damage than leaves damaged by another, related mite species—and one protein was produced at lower rates than in undamaged leaves!

Mites, up close. Photo via AgroLink.

In other words, the mites were not just preventing the host plant from boosting its defences in response to a mite attack—they were suppressing the defenses below what they would be without an immediate threat. Like a burglar cutting the power to a home security system, T. evansi can somehow prompt a hostile host to become more hospitable.

This raises another problem, however. With its defenses down, the host plant is also more hospitable to other insect herbivores, which could reduce the plant’s value to T. evansi, or even activate the alarms the mites have managed to suppress. A second study by the same team suggests that this may be part of the function of the webs T. evansi spins as it consumes its host.

In this second round of experiments, the group returned to the closely related mite Tetranychus urticae, which was used to stimulate plant defenses in the first study. Earlier work had found that some strains of T. urticae can tolerate or suppress host plant defenses [$a], though not nearly as effectively as T. evansi. That earlier work found that non-suppressing mite strains could benefit from living on the same plant as a suppressing strain, and the new study first demonstrated that this effect is even stronger when T. urticae shares a plant with T. evansi.

A whole lot of (presumably happy) mites. Photo via AgroLink.

In contrast, T. evansi colonies fared worse in the presence of the non-suppressing mites, whether fed leaves that had already been attacked by T. urticae, or placed on a mite-free leaf of a plant with another leaf infested by the non-suppressing species. All else being equal, T. urticae benefits from the defense-suppressing activity of T. evansi, but reduces the value of the host plant to T. evansi.

Faced with this freeloading competitor, T. evansi apparently replaces the disabled plant defenses with webbing. The team found that even though T. urticae thrived when given evansi-chewed tomato leaves, the non-suppressing mites had difficulty colonizing leaves covered in T. evansi webs. Moreover, T. evansi introduced onto a plant with the non-suppressing mites spun more webbing than when introduced onto a mite-free plant; but they didn’t ramp up web-spinning when sharing a plant with another colony of their own species, suggesting that the mites can respond to competition by building up their defenses.

So not only does T. evansi possess the means to turn off its hosts’ biological security system, it erects its own defenses to protect the plant from one competitor that might try to take advantage of the situation. How, exactly, the mites interfere with plants’ defensive responses will be an interesting future line of study. I’d also be very interested to see whether other herbivorous insects—things larger than other mites, and not so easily put off by some silk security fencing—also preferentially attack plants disabled by T. evansi. ◼

References

Kant, M., Sabelis, M., Haring, M., & Schuurink, R. (2008). Intraspecific variation in a generalist herbivore accounts for differential induction and impact of host plant defences Proc. Royal Soc. B, 275 (1633), 443-52 DOI: 10.1098/rspb.2007.1277

Sarmento, R., Lemos, F., Dias, C., Kikuchi, W., Rodrigues, J., Pallini, A., Sabelis, M., & Janssen, A. (2011). A herbivorous mite down-regulates plant defence and produces web to exclude competitors. PLoS ONE, 6 (8) DOI: 10.1371/journal.pone.0023757

Sarmento, R., Lemos, F., Bleeker, P., Schuurink, R., Pallini, A., Oliveira, M., Lima, E., Kant, M., Sabelis, M., & Janssen, A. (2011). A herbivore that manipulates plant defence. Ecology Letters, 14 (3), 229-36 DOI: 10.1111/j.1461-0248.2010.01575.x