Perspectives Archives - Page 18 of 24

24/06/2013

Prince Tom

There’s an international celebrity star of the Victorian age directly above my office. He’s lived there long enough to see his museum home gradually shrink around him to such an extent that he no longer fits out the door. He will spend the rest of his days eavesdropping on undergraduate lectures, seminar presentations and NERD club meetings. Prince Tom adds a flavour of exoticism and royal blue blood to our Zoology Museum’s collections.

Tom was an Indian elephant caught from the wild and presented as a gift from the ruler of Nepal to Queen Victoria’s second son, the Duke of Edinburgh. Along with a tortoise companion, Tom accompanied the Duke on his visit to New Zealand in 1870. He lived and worked with the sailors aboard H.M.S. Galatea, partaking in the manual work of hoisting sails and enjoying his daily crew rations of rum – the quantities of which were up scaled so they were befitting an animal of his size.

As one of the first elephantine visitors to the land of kiwis, Tom sparked quite a publicity stir in New Zealand. Tom’s decidedly non-teetotaller ways were of particular interest; one journalist remarked that Tom “indulged in alcoholic stimulants, of which a temperance advocate might say, he was far too fond”. Tom was also noted for his gentle ways; bending down to offer rides to his adoring public and happy to accept treats of buns, biscuits and lollies.

Upon his return from the colonies, Tom was loaded onto a train at Plymouth bound for London. While he was, by now, accustomed to maritime transport, confinement in a train carriage was an entirely different matter. Amidst his attempt to escape, Tom crushed the Royal Marine corporal who had been entrusted as his carer. Clearly health and safety practices of the Victorian era did not stretch to include protocols for the safe transport of slightly tipsy elephants.

Tom was relocated to Dublin Zoo in June 1872 where he quickly became a star attraction. He gave rides to children and was, for a time, effectively given free-reign of the zoo (just a touch different to how the elephants are looked after today!) Tom’s most famous trick was to buy his own snacks from the food stands. He learned to collect coins in his trunk and hand them over in exchange for his favourite treats.

A few close encounters when Tom broke loose and “endangered himself and others” put an end to his free reign at the zoo and he spent his last few years confined to his house and small yard. He died in 1882 aged roughly 15; evidently his years of heavy drinking and fondness for pastries were not conducive to prolonging his longevity. His body was transported by barge from the Zoo to Trinity College where he was dissected “with the aid of shears, ropes and pulleys”, how I would have loved to attend that anatomy lecture!

Tom’s skeleton has remained in our Zoology Museum ever since. His celebrity status continues long after his death as he is now one of the main attractions of our new museum guided tours which start today. So if you’re around Dublin, come along and meet Tom for yourself, hear stories about our other famous animals and learn about our extraordinary collections which date back to the voyages of Captain Cook in the late 18^th century. You never know what unusual tales lurk behind our taxidermied and skeletal remains.

Author

Sive Finlay: sfinlay[at]tcd.ie

Photo credit

Sive Finlay

19/06/2013

The world dyed by algae

Photograph by Brian Skerry, National Geographic — Seamount, Cortes Bank

The term “algae” does not refer to a single taxonomic group but instead comprises a diverse array of species, from prokaryotic cyanobacteria to many types of unicellular and multicellular eukaryotes. It’s well known that algae make great contributions to sustaining the diversity and productivity of our natural world. It has been estimated that the number of algae species could range from 30,000 to more than 1 million. So it’s not surprising to find that algae, so high in diversity and abundance, have significantly altered the appearance of our planet.

Just as plants add colour to our terrestrial world, algae are responsible for the diverse colours of many aquatic systems. Without the existence of macroalgae, most marine zones would be barren places and we would miss the beauty of park-like intertidal zones and magnificent marine forests comprised of gigantic algae such as the Giant kelp (Macrocystis pyrifera). In the shallow zone of rivers and lakes, attached filamentous macroalgae can flourish when the pressure of competition from aquatic plants is low, making the river and lake much greener than it would be otherwise. Microalgae also play their own role in dyeing the environment. In marine areas with high concentrations of phytoplankton, the existence of large amounts of chlorophyll absorbs the red and blue portions of the light spectrum and reflects green light. Therefore, sea water in these regions is not blue but appears as different shades; from blue-green to green. Attached microalgae, such as some benthic diatom species, can easily occupy diverse substrates, such as stones and aquatic plants, and decorate that substrate with their own colour. Despite their tiny volumes, only several μm in length or diameter, the adherent strength of these algae is quite strong and it is not easy to remove them from the substrate (as I found out when helping Lindsay with her field experiments!).

Some people might say they prefer multicoloured coral reefs to algae. However, even the beautiful colours of coral reefs depend on Symbiodinium, one group of dinoflagellate algae which live in a symbiotic relationship with coral polyps. However, this relationship is not absolutely stable and severe environmental stress can sometimes weaken the symbiotic bond. Increased sea water temperatures and ocean acidification can cause coral polyps to expel their algae. As a consequence, the corals lose both their color and any phototrophic capabilities and eventually become boringly white; a process termed coral bleaching.

Algae are also responsible for the beautiful colours of some sea slug species. In contrast to the harmonious symbioses between algae and corals, some sea slugs directly consume algae and use the algae’s pigment to produce remarkable body colors which can either be apatetic or aposematic in their functions.

Sometimes, however, algal colouration is not always welcome. Blooms of intensively growing algae can produce very ugly and unpleasant colours. Cyanobacterial blooms are one of the most common environmental problems in freshwater systems including eutrophic lakes, reservoirs and the backwater zone of rivers. During bloom periods, lake surfaces can be partly or fully occupied by cyanobacterial cells, creating an unappealing dark blue-green colour.

A cyanobacterial bloom in Chao Hu, the fifth largest freshwater lake in China

Other algal groups, such as some dinoflagellates, are commonly found in marine blooms. The colours of algal blooms in marine systems are more diverse depending on the type and density of bloom species. However, one kind of bloom, Noctiluca scintillans, is especially unattractive. Proliferation of this species creates a bloody red colour remarkably similar to the one described in Exodus, which may be one of the earliest recorded instances of a red tide (“… and all the waters that were in the river turned to blood. And the fish that were in the river died, and the water stank …”).

A Noctiluca scintillans bloom off the coast of eastern Australia — A *Noctiluca scintillans* bloom off the coast of eastern Australia

Author

Qiang Yang: qiang.00.yang[at]gmail.com

Photo credits

Brian Skerry, National Geographic

Wikimedia commons

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coolage.in

17/06/2013

What’s the Point?

What do you study that? It’s a common question, and one that’s often hard to answer. Some subjects have obvious and immediate uses (medicinal drug development is an obvious one) but others have less clear goals. Much, if not most, of science proceeds through slow increments building on past knowledge, without any grander desire than to find out why something is the way it is. Even discoveries that have revolutionised our lives were seen as small curiosities when first discovered. When asked about the use of electricity following its discovery Michael Faraday is said (erroneously) to have claimed “…one day you can tax it”.

Ecology is one area where the immediate uses are often hard to pin down. Surveys of animals are lovely, but what really is the point? In these economically-straitened times such questions demand an answer, if only because without one those surveys will no longer be funded. A recent survey by Marine Scotland brilliantly highlights their importance, discovering new species and new habitat which has major implications for fishing in the area.

They report the presence of extensive deep sea coral reefs and at least two new species of chemosynthetic clam which is a strong indication of the presence of cold seeps. Cold seeps are areas in the deep ocean where chemicals seep from the crust into the water. They were first discovered in 1983 and use hydrogen sulphide, rather than sunlight, as the basis of their ecosystem. The seep found by Marine Scotland is the first in near-UK waters and only the third in the North-East Atlantic, so it is a significant (and fantastic!) discovery.

The report also found evidence of extensive habitat loss due to bottom trawling. Bottom trawling is arguably one of the most destructive forms of fishing, taking not just the target fish but also any habitat that dares to rise above the sea bed. Rocks, sponges and corals all get caught and what is left behind is a barren plateau that can take years to recover. Due to the presence of the rare habitats found by the survey, as well as the clear evidence of fishing activity in the area, the report strongly recommended closure of fishing grounds in the survey area.

No one knew what, if anything, they would find when they left shore. They could have found nothing of importance but instead they found a type of habitat that has not been found in the region before and at least two new species; information that has led to commercially-significant recommendations.

This is the result of just one of the thousands of surveys done each year. Some of those surveys may not be useful now, some may be (like this one), and some may have a use in the future than can’t be predicted. Surveys aren’t glamorous, but they are extremely useful, and they are a perfect example of why not having narrow goals isn’t always a bad thing.

Author

Sarah Hearne: hearnes[at]tcd.ie

Photo credit

www.noaa.gov

12/06/201312/06/2013

Back from the dead

What do you associate with the word “extinction”?

I think of death, dinosaurs, dodos, desolation and despair (well maybe the last ones are a bit overly dramatic but I was feeling the alliterative vibe). No matter what your initial reactions may be, I think the concepts of extinction being irreversible and ultimately a “bad thing” would feature in most of our reactions to the word. It turns out that neither of these initial associations is necessarily true.

Extinctions are not always bad. It is all too easy to overlook their important role in shaping the evolution of life, a topic explored in a fascinating exhibition now on at London’s Natural History Museum. Extinction is arguably just as important as speciation in the evolution of our ecosystems so to think of it in a completely negative light is misguided.

However, extinction’s negative connotations are still very much justified. When humans mess with “natural” extinction trends is where we encounter problems. It’s a sad but true cliché that where humans go extinctions swiftly follow. Humans were either the direct cause or a major contributing factor in a depressingly long list of extinctions; from dodos and Tasmanian tigers to passenger pigeons and giant moas. When the last individuals of these species were either killed or lived out their days in captive isolation they marked one more reduction to global biodiversity and another page in the annals of the history of human stupidity and greed. Yet their extinction pronouncements may not be as final as they seem…

On the back of a recent TED special event, de-extinction is receiving increasing levels of attention and interest. The key concept arises from the intriguing difference between individual and genetic extinction; if DNA is salvageable then the possibility of raising species from the dead remains open. It’s a very attractive idea; extract some DNA, conduct some genetic jiggery pokery (can’t you just see my genetic expertise) to create viable stem cells or embryos, find a living relative of your target species and hey presto; an elephant gives birth to a woolly mammoth. The difficulties are found within the jiggery pokery steps; how to get enough good quality DNA to create viable stem cells and whether you can make a “pure” embryo of your species or create some kind of hybrid between living and extinct species. Despite the difficulties, the project to revive passenger pigeons is already underway with other candidate species including woolly mammoths, sabre-toothed cats and the great auk waiting in the wings.

The idea of coming face to face with a giant elephant bird or having your very own pet dodo is exciting to say the least – think of the revenue of a zoo which offered rides on a woolly mammoth! Yet de-extinction is a veritable minefield of ethical, ecological and legal debate. One of the main concerns, which I share, is the worry that even remote chances of successful de-extinction could detract from conservation efforts to save very much alive but critically endangered species. If we lose living species we can’t just 3D-print carbon copies and plonk them back into their habitats. De-extinction should be seen as a difficult, expensive and ultimately very risky last-resort measure to regain lost biodiversity, not an alternative to protecting what we have now.

Conservation issues aside, if by any chance we did manage to successfully re-create an extinct animal what happens next? Would it just become an expensive sideshow attraction at some zoo or, perhaps, have a glittering movie-star career (creating employment for the sabre-toothed cat animal trainers of tomorrow)? There are arguments that, with mass-scale de-extinction and subsequent successful breeding, new populations of revived species could be re-wilded back into their natural environments and help to restore ecological functioning. It sounds great but, given our chequered history of ecosystem meddling through species introductions it’s difficult to see how we could accurately predict or control what would happen if we introduced genetically engineered species into habitats which, most likely, have undergone extensive ecological change in that species’ absence.

De-extinction research is undoubtedly fascinating from a purely technological and scientific point of view. Furthermore, the prospect of reclaiming species from the past is sure to excite the latent Jurassic Park Ranger career aspirations of all of us. However, the controversies surrounding the process are well-justified and it’s clear that we have a long way to go before booking our next woolly mammoth safari holiday.

Still, perhaps the phrase “dead as a dodo” does not have as final connotations as we once thought…

Author

Sive Finlay: sfinlay[at]tcd.ie

Photo credit

Wikimedia commons

10/06/201328/03/2019

Bringing our perceptions closer to reality

This blog post was originally written and published here on the SoapBox Science blog. The Soapbox Science event showcases UK women in science to inspire the next generation of scientists by making science fun and accessible. This year it will take place on Friday 5th July 12-3pm on the Southbank in London. If you’re in the area why not go and take a look?

First a little thought experiment: without over thinking it, list ten top scientists in your field…now, honestly, what percentage of your list are women? Continue reading “Bringing our perceptions closer to reality”

05/06/2013

The Evolution of Natural History Museums

I’ve been touring international natural history museums as part of my PhD research. The “behind the scenes” aspect of each museum is fairly unchanging; row upon row of cabinets with some very unusual objects lurking within – the taxidermic tastes of some people just leave you wondering… Aside from the obvious dissimilarities in size, the major difference between the museums I’ve visited is in the style of their public exhibits. Like any other industry, museum exhibition styles are subject to fashion trends which reflect society’s interests and inclinations at the time of the exhibit’s creation. Visiting collections in Dublin, London, Washington DC, New York and Harvard University is an interesting trip through the evolution of natural history museums.

A visit to Dublin’s Natural History Museum should be treated as an historical trip back to the golden age of Victorian interests in the natural world. The museum’s first floor gallery is typical of the “classical” approach to natural history collections; collect and stuff as many animals as possible and cram them together in display cases to be admired. Scientific information is often limited to just species names and any niggling doubts about taxidermic accuracy should be ignored (have a look at the Orang-utan’s less than life-like features on your next visit). I love this old style, not only because you never know what odd creatures are lurking around the corner but also for its testimony to the collecting frenzies of 19^th century naturalists.

A quick tour around London’s natural history museum gives a flavour of the evolution of exhibition styles; from display cabinets similar to Dublin’s “dead zoo” approach through to the ultra-modern and interactive Darwin Centre where you can watch a real-life scientist at work behind a glass screen (maybe not so far removed from a zoo after all?) The human biology exhibits lie somewhere in the middle of these two extremes. The interactive displays that allow you to re-live your time in the womb and explore how your senses work represent some of the earliest changes in exhibition planning; the move from passive presentation of natural objects to interactive attempts to inform and entertain museum visitors. These changing attitudes are documented in Richard Fortey’s excellent book about life at London’s museum.

In different ways, the American museums I visited also mix old and new approaches to museum exhibits. The Smithsonian Institute seems to have a taste for dynamic and life-like taxidermy. They have a giraffe drinking from a waterhole, a leopard hanging out with its kill in a tree and lions in the middle of taking down a water buffalo.

They’re the same species as can be found in Dublin or London but their action-style poses certainly adds a bit more realism to the exhibits. You just have to wonder about what weird contortions and odd framing apparatus must have been used to preserve these animals in mid-action poses for ever more.

The American Museum of Natural History has a different approach to adding a touch of life to their dead zoo. Many of their species are displayed in dioramas; recessed windows frame scenes from Savannah, tropical rainforest, desert and woodland life. The AMNH also has a cleverly designed and beautifully displayed wing where visitors can walk the vertebrate tree of life. Feeling somewhat Dorothy-esque, you follow the vertebrate phylogeny laid out on the ground, stopping en-route to see fossil or skeletal examples from all the major lineages. Instead of going down the “pull a lever/ push a button/ touch a screen” route of exhibition interactivity, the AMNH has enlivened the traditional natural history style by displaying their species in an evolutionary or ecological context which is far more interesting and informative for the visitor. They are certainly lovely scenes to admire, though I do admit that I spent most of my time wondering what happens when everything comes to life at night…

Although smaller in size, Harvard’s Museum of Comparative Zoology combines all the exhibition styles of its big city museum counterparts. There are dead zoo-style cases of stuffed animals, ecological dioramas of species found in New England forests and high tech, interactive touch screens to explore the tree of life (a lovely tool but not completely up to date – because I’m pedantic I had to check how they classified tenrecs…) The added benefit of the MCZ is their inclusion of exhibits based on current and previous research of the museum and affiliated staff. They have specialised, themed exhibits based on their research expertise, I particularly loved the displays about the evolution of animal colouration and camouflage based on research from the Losos lab. Despite its limited size, the MCZ combines all major aspects of the evolution of museum exhibits; from static stuffed animals through to interactive attempts to inform visitors and clear links with active, current scientific research.

There’s clearly a huge variety in natural history museum exhibits and it’s interesting to see how each institution tackles the task of preserving their tradition while still continuing to keep a pace with the demand for new and more exciting exhibits. Our own TCD Zoology museum is no exception to this evolving museum trend as we prepare to welcome our first public visitors of the summer in just a few weeks’ time. I look forward to sharing some our own quirky museum stories; just how did our elephant, Prince Tom, fit in through the door?

Author

Sive Finlay: sfinlay[at]tcd.ie

Photo credit

Sive Finlay

04/06/201304/06/2013

If you please – draw me a dino…

Imagine you’re stuck in the desert, your plane has crashed and you’re trying hard to fix it. Then a child pops up out of the blue and asks you straight out “If you please – draw me a dino…”. Now let’s say you do as Antoine de St-Exupéry and take up the challenge without asking too many questions. How would you draw that dino? I guess it depends on when you were asked the question.

Let’s go back through the history of drawing dinosaurs. The pictures I grew up with were the ones from Jurassic Park who came directly from the last dino-revolution started by Ostrom and Bakker‘s work (especially with the publication of Dinosaures Heresies, in 1986). This vision was then heavily popularized by the three (nearly four?) blockbuster movies we all know and love…

Since the late 1990’s, the increased availability of formerly highly expensive techniques such as CT scans or synchrotrons, has helped to understand dinosaurs better than ever. Led by new discoveries from vast, previously unexplored deposits, some of the most interesting work from recent times shows an even closer link between birds and dinos than we previously thought (see last week’s Science NOW). So I believe (and hope) that the next generation will grow up with the pictures of dino-chickens and see their lunch time chicken wings as true theropod meat…

It is always really interesting to look at all the work that has been done and presented to the public through dinosaur pictorial art; from the weird/funny starts in the first half of the 19th century to the modern, highly accurate representations of today (the French artist Alain Bénéteau is just one example among many). As a nice example, have a look at the pictorial evolution of the second oldest scientifically described dinosaur: the Iguanodon.

Mantell's_Iguanodon_restoration — Mantell‘s *Iguanodon* – 1825

800px-Goodrich_Iguanodon — Goodrich‘s *Iguanodon* – 1859

Harder's Iguanodon - 1916 — Harder‘s *Iguanodon* – 1916

Bekaert's Iguanodon - 1995 — Bekaert‘s *Iguanodon* – 1995

Tamura's Iguanodon - 2012 — Tamura‘s *Iguanodon* – 2012

But here I’d like to emphasize my love for what I think was the “golden age” of dinosaur pictorial art. I obviously want to refer to the work of artists like Charles R. Knight (1874:1953), Zdeněk Burian (1905:1981 – have a look at this awesome online gallery) or Rudolph F. Zallinger (1919:1995). Their beautiful and (for their time) highly accurate scientific artwork was crucially import for bringing palaeontology into the public eye. This “golden age” was made possible by the upgrading of palaeontology to the status of a true science and the general acceptance of Darwin’s theory. Public interest in palaeontology at this time was also fueled by new fossil discoveries from expanding European colonies and the American frontier eventually leading to the most epic palaeo-story ever: the Bone Wars (soon to be seen on HBO)!

I refer to this period (second half of the 19th century and first half of the 20th) as a “golden age” but that does not mean that it was the peak of palaeontological discovery or interest. Our palaeo-knowledge has never been richer. Dinosaurs are no longer merely unknown beasts from an ageless past. They are now placed in accurate phylogenetic frameworks and are just one of the many extinct tetrapod groups which we can now link to extant biodiversity. However, identifying birds as living remains of the dinosaur lineage does diminish dinosaurs’ mightiness. They are no longer the perfect romantic group of fossils: giant monsters that ruled the earth for over 150 million years before being completely wiped out by a single meteorite that cleared the way for us to evolve and exist. Even if I actively try to fight against this simplistic view of the History of Life, I have to admit that it is the one that brought me into palaeontology, not the chickens I used to keep in my parents’ garden… So, although I have no drawing talent whatsoever, because I think that dinosaurs are still awesome but lacking the mightiness they deserve, I’ll draw that little prince something like this:

Dr_M_in_extassies_at_the_approach_of_his_pet_Saurian_by_Henry_De_la_Beche — A sketch from De la Beche (1930) titled: *Dr M[antell] in extasies at the approach of is pet Saurian*

This post was inspired by the excellent “Dinomania” chapter of Gould’s Bully for Brontosaurus 1991, by a master’s project done with F.Barbiere, S.Enault and B.Ramassamy and by the excellent blogs which can be found about this subject such as here, here or here.

Author

Thomas Guillerme: guillert[at]tcd.ie

Photo credit

Wikimedia commons

31/05/2013

Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?

In popular culture, especially literary references, wolves are usually sly, cunning and vicious. Think of the fairy tale wolf villain who used his drag queen and voice modulation skills to fool Little Red Riding Hood into thinking that he was her aged grandmother. Some literary wolves are more than a little bit gullible; thwarted in his attempts to demolish a house of brick, the Big Bad Wolf resorted to a chimney entrance route to reach his porcine prey. Not the wisest option; he should have known that the Three Little Pigs had plenty of straw and sticks to kindle a substantial fire.

Captive wolves can be just as cunning as their fairy tale counterparts. RTE’s series on Dublin Zoo featured amazing footage of an extensive tunnel system the wolves had excavated below their exhibit. They were slowly making headway towards the boundary fence and would have eventually escaped into the Phoenix Park had their attempts not been thwarted by vigilant keepers. Surely these wolves’ valiant efforts deserves a theme tune…

Anthropomorphic representations of wolves are undoubtedly influenced by their status as carnivores. It’s easy to project evil characteristics or motivations onto animals that hunt and kill cute and placid grass-munchers. In contrast, can you think of any stories about evil or menacing herbivores? (What exactly is an evil giraffe?)

Interestingly, though, our literary biases against carnivores only extend to some species. Think of all the children’s books about cute and cuddly polar bears; somehow they manage to gloss over the blood and gore at the end of this incredible video.

Cultural biases and anthropomorphic labelling of wolves as “evil” or “cruel” may even contribute to some of the staunch opposition to wolf reintroduction and management programs. Wolves are sometimes perceived as vicious killers with no role in or value to an ecosystem. This is in contrast to other sympatric predators, such as cougars, which can be equal if not greater threats to both humans and livestock but don’t elicit the same controversies or opposition to their management or conservation. The difference in our perceptions of these predators seems to be historical. It’s much easier for ranchers to accept and cope with the threats from cougars than to contemplate or deal with the problems associated with reintroducing wolves back into areas which formed part of their historical range.

I’m not attempting to dismiss or belittle the very legitimate concerns and problems associated with managing and protecting wolves. But perhaps if we change how we perceive and depict wolves in our stories and culture it would help to rejuvenate their image and re-cast them as no more evil or menacing than other predators with which we have learned to cope.

I think we need to boost wolves’ PR. The Twilight series is certainly playing its role in this mission; wolves have never been so popular among teenage girls. Despite these efforts, we need more positive cultural and literary links to wolves. Perhaps a new series of children’s books about “Winston the wistful wolf” or an uplifting Disney wolf cub coming-of-age story would do the trick? These majestic creatures should not suffer the fate of perpetual villain type-casting .

Author

Sive Finlay: sfinlay[at]tcd.ie

Photo credit

Wikimedia commons

15/05/2013

Sentenced to death: how not to communicate science

I like to think the purpose of language (poetry excluded) is to convey information. Doing so in science is complicated somewhat by the vocabulary that every field accumulates. But, from my experience, most of this jargon takes the form of nouns and these are easy to explain when necessary. Take the word ‘phylogenetics’ as an example. On first inspection it’s a polysyllabic monster but as a noun it’s easy to define as “the systematic study of organism relationships based on evolutionary similarities and differences.” Simple. And over time this word slots into our vocabulary so we no longer need a definition every time.

The real problems in the language of science communication lurk elsewhere. Neuroscientists declare the self is an illusion but there is always going to be a subject doing science no matter how objective we want it to be. And it is that subject who should do the explaining of his or her work. The complete aversion of scientists to personal pronouns is a disaster for clarity and renders many papers unreadable. There are instances when the passive voice is more suitable but it’s not a case of ‘I showed’ for the humanities and ‘it was shown’ for science.

Lewis Spurgin lists myriad forms of bugbears in communicating science in one of his blog posts. Pretentious writing and clichés are both listed! As he says, so much light has been shed on matters in science that we’ve all gone blind. So rather than eschewing obfuscation and espousing elucidation try to keep it simple stupid (KISS). Despite Will Self’s eloquent defence of obscure words, in science communication, clarity should be our highest priority.

And finally we come to the “funny title: actual title” format (see this blog post). Spurgin reckons scientists prone to this are in need of a colonic irrigation. And with good cause, for having a colon in your title reduces the number of cites you receive.

Author

Adam Kane: kanead@tcd.ie

Photo credit

wikimedia commons

13/05/2013

Monsterology

Monsters and fantastical creatures are integral components of every culture and society. It’s easy to dismiss fantastical beasts such as Cyclopes, unicorns and mermaids as fanciful creations of story tellers with over-active imaginations. While this may be true, there are also often plausible explanations of either extinct or extant animals which could spark such tales. The intriguing pseudoscience of cryptozoology has a long history which is still strong today.

Marauding Cyclopes seem to have been rampant on the islands of mythological Ancient Greece. One of the explanations suggested for the origins of these one-eyed monsters stems from dwarf elephant fossils found on Cyprus. The central nasal cavity for the trunk may have been interpreted as a large single eye socket which could have sparked the legends. Plausible enough but, if true, the elephant origins doesn’t explain why Cyclopes are never depicted with tusks.

Convinced of their existence, Greek writers included unicorn descriptions in natural history rather than mythology writings. Medieval and Renaissance curiosity collections often included fragments of unicorn horns belonging to the real unicorns of the sea, narwhals. Leaving any magical capabilities aside, the existence of a single-horned artiodactyl isn’t that implausible. Pre-historic contact with a giant Eurasian rhinoceros, the Elasmotherium may be one origin of unicorn stories. More recently, the birth of a roe deer with an unusual genetic mutation resulting in a single central horn sparked many “modern day unicorn” stories.

When early explorers ventured beyond the dire “here be monsters” warning on their limited maps, monster sightings were often confirmed rather than dismissed. Christopher Columbus recorded mermaid encounters en route to discovering the New World in 1492. Sea manatees and their penchant for sometimes sitting upright in the water seem to be the most likely explanation for many mermaid stories – although, even allowing for their seaweed hair, given manatees’ rather homely appearance I often wonder why mermaids were always recounted as being so beautiful.

In later years, curious audiences could pay to see their very own mermaid in the scaly and furry flesh. Fiji mermaids comprised of a monkey’s torso sewn onto a fish’s tail were popular in 19^th century sideshows. Although the Victorian public was rather more gullible than their modern day counterparts, it was not long before Fiji mermaids were identified as a hoax. Such trickery set a precedent which created difficulties when it came to scientific acceptance of seemingly fantastical creatures. In his excellent Life Stories series, David Attenborough recounts the scepticism with which European academics reacted to duck billed platypus specimens shipped over from Australia. Surely a creature with the beak of a duck, webbed feet and a non-descript hairy torso must be a hoax of taxonomic trickery? Sometimes real world animals are far more fantastical than any mythical beasts.

In our genomic age, the study and “proof” of mythical creatures has developed far beyond the amateur status of sewing body parts together. Recently, the Sasquatch genome project has sequenced and published big foot’s genome. The mitochondrial DNA has 100% homology with humans (I wonder why??) while the complete genome is a “mosaic of novel primate and human sequence”. Rejected by the journal of cryptozoology the results are published in a newly founded “peer reviewed” journal with the article only available for purchase and, curiously, remains largely unseen by anyone other than the study’s authors…

Whether based on grains of truth or pure fantasy, the field of monsterology remains strong today. I’m sure the Victorian mermaid stitchers are looking down on their Sasquatch geneticist descendants with pride.

Author

Sive Finlay: sfinlay[at]tcd.ie

Photo credit

wikimedia commons