A Sense of Wonder for the Common

Photo by Jim Richardson, from National Geographic

This semester I’m hosting a graduate seminar on the 50^th anniversary of Rachel Carson’s publication of Silent Spring, a book credited with starting the modern environmental movement.  I read the book in graduate school and was amazed by how relevant the book was decades later, and am interested to see how I feel about the book that I’ve been in science a little longer (and maybe a little more grouchy and cynical).  I’m devoting some time this semester to learn as much as I can about Rachel Carson the person and her work.  Looking for a little inspiration!

I started with A Sense of Wonder.  Have you read it…or do you already have enough of a sense of wonder that it always seemed like an irrelevant read?  I have a sense of wonder, but sometimes I leave it in my back pocket.  Living with a little person helps me pull it out daily, however.  Little people do seem to live in a chronic state of wonder, where everything is new and worth devoting at least a little stare time to.  And this book is definitely about cultivating a young person’s stare time so that they maintain a steady state of wonder throughout her/his lifetime. 

My favorite passage in the book was about Rachel Carson, or Rachel as I prefer as we become intimate friends, and a friend taking a walk to an area by the waters of a bay to watch the night sky.  She says, “I have never seen them more beautiful:  the misty river of the Milky Way flowing across the sky, the patterns of the constellations standing out bright and clear, a blazing planet low on the horizon. “  And then she goes on “It occurred to me that if this were a sight that could be seen only once in a century or even once in a human generation; this little headland would be thronged with spectators.  But it can be seen many scores of nights in any year, and so the lights burned in the cottages and the inhabitants probably gave not a thought to the beauty overhead; and because they could see it almost any night perhaps they will never see it.” 

The beauty of the common.  What is it about our species that we fail to appreciate something until it is rare or scarce?  We are a strange beast and as much as we all benefit and love technology, it does seem to isolate us from the natural world.  I hope you see something common and beautiful today…I hope you stop and notice.  On my walk this morning I saw three fawns (three!) and a doe.  Deer may be common, but it is so lovely to see them carrying themselves on those thin leggy stalks, so lovely to take in for a moment the wild world around us.  

In Short There's Simply Not a More Congenial Spot

Last week I was an ad hoc member of a Scientific Advisory Panel at EPA for a chemical that has been reported to alter reproductive endpoints in amphibians.  It was an interesting experience, and I’ll have more to share in the coming weeks, but one unexpected outcome was that it made me very, very, very grateful that I work at a university…oh, Camelot of employers.    

More than one day of the meeting involved listening to public comments, and the company that makes the herbicide had the majority of that time.  We listened to the company and its scientists (or the university scientists it funded) provide arguments for their evaluation of the situation—often times reexamining the models developed by EPA scientists and interpreting the data available literature in, well, their own way.  We also listened to EPA scientists clarify their approach for arriving at safe environmental levels, as well as why we should or should not be concerned about effects on aquatic vertebrates.  The company had some points that were valid.  EPA had valid points.  And then they had to listen to the scientific advisory panel, which was probably less interesting to them than the comments they made were to me.  But the panelists had their own valid points.  Lots of talking and lots of listening.   Very exhausting.  Very interesting.

But the bottom line is that there are lots of great things about academics, which benefits scientists personally and the public at large.  (On the downside, many university scientists are not rich…but my father would argue that such things build character.)  First, academics can (and often do) say anything.  Academics have the freedom to be honest (and verbose) and really lay it on the line.  Do you think someone’s scientific approach is questionable or flawed?  Alas, then you can just say so and there’s really no one to answer to.  Your dean, departmental chairperson, and colleagues don’t really care if you express your scientific opinion—in fact, they may want to chat more about it and evaluate it themselves and come up with a cool experiment as a follow-up.  If you work in industry or are funded by industry, then whoever provides your bread may have some (or a lot) of sway over what you say publicly; and, even if the industry does not influence what its scientists say, there will always be the perception that they could.  Someone working for or being funded by a company loses the appearance of being objective and unbiased.  EPA scientists could be limited by their employer as well (or direct supervisor); and with changes in administration, the extent to which the scientists can express themselves can also change.  EPA may even suffer from a similar (but opposite) problem of public perception that industry is plagued with—the perception of bias:  EPA employees as tree huggers likely to make something appear worse than it is.  (Although, I must say that there was very little tree-hugging, or frog-hugging, on the issue I was involved with.)   

Second, as an academic on the panel evaluating the literature and the white paper put together for the panel, I had no vested interest in the outcome, which aids objectivity.  EPA has spent months (maybe years) putting together models to evaluate safe environmental levels and writing up the paper and appendices to clarify how they arrived at their conclusions.  If I was involved into anything that had appendices up to “Appendix N” I would definitely want things to go my way and wouldn’t want to have to be involved with any more appendices related to the topic ever again.  Industry is profiting from the market of their pesticide, so they have a vested interest in keeping it on the market at maximal rates.  Industry can cherry pick the data and develop models that suit their interests, and even believe they have been more objective than Spock himself.  As a scientist who never had an appendix past C, I could honestly care less if the chemical involved has an effect or not—the only thing I honestly care about is arriving at a scientific valid conclusion that nears the truth.  Because there is a truth—the chemical does or does not have effects that are biologically relevant at given concentrations—my only goal is that we arrive as close as possible to that destination.  Then it’s EPA’s job to decide how concerned they are about the potential effects and what they are going to do about them. 

A third reason to love academic life is that university scientists can do the research they want to do!  My lab is currently severely lacking in funds, but we can do a lot of things on a shoestring and are doing so.  No one tells us what we should be interested in or what we should examine, and there is great thrill in that which may not always be enjoyed by government or industry-funded scientists. 

Fourth, the situation of regulation is complicated, and as a scientist from a university, I can evaluate the data and express my opinion on what the right step is, but it cannot be easy to have to implement the change (EPA) or to have change implemented on one’s own livelihood (Industry).  The academics may be the marriage counselors in the whole process…at the end of the day, we walk away, but a lot of the hard decisions and work have to be done by others, and you just hope they have the courage and strength to take any good advice that was offered.

So, in the end, I am so happy to be home and I feel so enlightened and exhausted by the experience of seeing a small slice of the way the regulatory process works.  And, even better, I left with quite a few new ideas for experiments.    

Fool Me Twice

               One of the reasons I think science rocks is because the conclusions are based on evidence.  I can be completely gullible in a regular non-data-based conversation, and I always seem to be a sucker for the pathologically lying friend.  But, science is a reliable friend that allows you to check up on the data, question the circumstances, and retest.  Well, data is nice—wonderful even, but one could argue that there are poorly designed experiments that could give spurious results.  That’s true, but that is not data that would hold up and stand the test of time.  There’s peer-review by the scientific community, which happens before anything gets published and which catches most of the experimental design flaws and can stop a publication dead in its tracks.  And, there’s a community of scientists who should be able to replicate your experiments—studies must be repeatable if the conclusions are to be believed.  Scientists know that “belief” should never be required in a conclusion, but rather evidence is.  We scientist do not “believe in” climate change or evolution—rather the available data support the conclusion that climate change is occurring and that evolution has shaped the diversity of life on earth. 

                ShawnLawrence Otto published a book in 2011 called Fool Me Twice:  Fighting the Assault on Science in America, and I read it with great interest because I’m intrigued by the debate that seems to be on-going in America regarding science, currently global climate change and evolution (as always it seems).  This book offered a lot of insights as to why some people may be wary of science, like the use of science to create weapons of mass destruction.  And why people may not view scientific conclusions as solidly as scientists do, which Otto proposes is a result of an educational system that has promoted viewing the world from different perspectives with no real “truth.”  In contrasts, science revolves around attempts to uncover and reveal Truth.  If people do not believe that there is such a thing as “the truth,” only different ways of perceiving the world, then no wonder science is taking a beating in politics and the media. 

                There were a couple of points he made that I am going to carry forward with me.  One, the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) 1987 decision to abolish the “fairness doctrine” which resulted in Otto’s words of “severing one of the last ties to a common public foundation of knowledge and its cousin, the carefully researched public record that journalists had worked for sixty years to build.”  Broadcasters were then no long required to present balanced news coverage, resulting in a new era of yellow journalism that allowed the rise of Rush Limbaugh and Fox news, which has had a huge impact on the impression of science by the public.  Otto also holds scientists accountable for becoming disengaged with the public, which has allowed a lot of debate to continue without a strong scientific foundation.  He’s totally right about that.  We scientists need to figure out what role we can play in helping with scientific literacy.  Even though we ecologists are seldom pale, we could still stand to step out a bit more.  He also suggests that scientists should be reaching out to churches, which is completely interesting, isn’t it?  Scientists certainly share a range of religious views, like the non-scientific community, but there are few who are engaging with congregations in a way that could be beneficial to scientific understanding.  And I am totally guilty of this, as a religious person that goes to a church where a disturbing portion of the congregation seems more likely to visit the Creation “Museum” right down the road than to ponder the awe-inspiring interconnectedness of life on earth that arose through evolutionary processes. 

                So, I think you should read this book too and see what you think about it.  There is a lot to think about and I’ve only touched on a few of Otto’s points.  As the best books do, it has me thinking about the world in a new way and also contemplating some different ways I can interact with people.  It’s even got me thinking I need to visit the Creation Museum and take some notes on what the creationists think is so astounding that it could only be heavenly created—so at least creationists and scientists are all awe-struck by this dazzling world, and that is potentially common ground where we can start a dialogue.  

Humans and their Tall Tales of Snakes: Science to the Rescue

                Snakes.  Personally, I am quite found of them.  I like the large venomous ones that have a built in rattle.  I like that they can periodically refresh themselves with a good skin shedding that keeps them looking as young and vibrant as ever.  I like how their scales cover their surface like a roll of sequins.  Snake fondness could be the next fad with a little help from everyone, and science can help.

                I was just reading a study called “Defensive behavior of cottonmouths (Agkistrodon piscivorus)” by Whit Gibbons and Mike Dorcas and am reminded how we scientists can put myths to the test quite literally.  It’s one thing for snake lovers to say that people shouldn’t worry about venomous snakes and how unlikely they are to actually bite a person.  But people seem very confident that venomous snakes, in particular, are prone to chase a person down for a little venom therapy, just for funsies.  Sure, we can say “Approximately 8000 of the 310,000,000 people in the US will be bitten by a venomous snake—or ~0.026% of the population.” Or that “There are typically 12 or fewer deaths in the US per year for venomous snakes, or ~12/310,000,000, which is 0.0000039% of the population.”  Or even in our most confident voice “In contrast, there are roughly 40-50 deaths by lightning strike and 90 deaths by motor vehicle crashes each year in the US.  Come on people, evaluate the risks properly.”  But, nothing is quite as convincing as a nice hypothesis-driven study.  And, the study by Gibbons & Dorcas (2002) suggests that you are most likely to be bitten (and therefore in some unlikely cases die) by a venomous snakebite if you pick up and harass the snake.  So, I had to share the data:

                They had three treatments:  1) stand beside a snake (in snakeproof boots) while touching its body; 2) step on the snake midbody without injuring the snake; or 3) pick up the snake midbody with a pair of snake tongs that look like a human-hand and arm.  (Would love to see a picture of those, personally.)  And these (above) were the results they found.  Most of the snakes that bit were picked up with the human-like hand and had also been stepped on—so the more harassment, the more likely the snake was to bite.  Even still, 60% of the snakes did not bite when picked up.  None apparently chased the researchers when they were done with the study.  NONE! 

                So, if you do not want to be bitten by a venomous snake, then do not harass them or pick them up or kill them, just stand back and admire them.  Every living creature could use a little more admiration.  Myself included (husband, are you listening?). 

Just a Couple of Nice Days in the Field

We are having such gorgeous weather in wild & wonderful Ohio this week.  (I know weather is the stuff of old people, but I turned 40 this week and, therefore, must speak of gorgeous blue skies.)  Yesterday, I was out with my herpetology class looking for, well, herps, of course.  There’s a good crop of herpers in this group (too bad they are not reading this, because I’m sure that comment would give them a warm, fuzzy feeling).  We saw a few lovelies including the southern two-lined salamander, which we saw in all sizes, small larvae to big and chunky adult.  Such a lovely surprise to turn over a rock and find a salamander or snake.  Of course, we are turning rocks over for this very reason, but it’s still kind of like buying a lottery ticket…you don’t win every time. 

We also found a few snakes under some of those rocks—queen snakes and small northern water snakes.  A number of snake whisperers in class this year that seem to find them no matter where we are, but these were all hanging out at the water’s edge. 

Today I was out in the field for a bit checking my terrestrial pens. Notice anything?

  

I raised these northern leopard frogs from tadpoles in ponds and then placed them in these terrestrial pens.  As tadpoles, they were exposed to an insecticide at 2, 4, 6, or 8 weeks after hatching and we’re following them in the terrestrial environment to see if there are long-term effects from early life exposure.  The pens are only about 6 feet by 6 feet, but these frogs are hiding Houdini’s in the grass.  I’ll hop into a pen and see a frog, but I think they have a secret hidey-hole or two.  Fortunately, there’s one nice big hidey-hole, which we elegantly call “the central pit,” and when they are in there I can catch them better than a frog can catch a fly.  Aren’t they gorgeous?  This is the last part of a very long three year study, which has had more than the normal numbers of snags.  I’m keeping my fingers crossed for something really, really, really interesting.  However, even if it’s really, really, really not interesting, they still had me out on a nice 60 degree F day working my Jedi reflexes to catch these lovely beasts.  Science is good!

Your Inner Fish, My Inner Fish

Finished a good science read this morning by Neil Shubin, Your Inner Fish:  A Journey into the 3.5-billion-year History of the Human Body.  You should check it out.  Shubin’s the guy who discovered Tiktaalik, the missing link between fish and tetrapods.  Here’s a picture of that beast:

 I know, Tiktaalik is quite a doll.  Paleobiology-types were so excited about this fishapod because it had a wrist and a neck, as well as a number of characteristics associated with amphibians, the first tetrapods, likes a flat head with eyes on top of the head.  But, Tiktaalik is still very fish like with its fins and general fishiness.  Your Inner Fish starts out with Shubin’s stories about the discovery of this and other fossils and how paleontologist use geological maps to make educated guesses about where they might find certain types of fossils.  Good field stories.

Shubin makes connections between the limbs and hands of all tetrapods with their earliest fish ancestors.  He covers the connection early biologists make in the 19^th and 20^th century between life forms based on studying embryonic development.  And he brings us to the amazing discoveries (and potential for discoveries) in the molecular age—how you can find genes that build bodies in mammals in a very similar form in all sorts of other animals and even choanoflagellates, our protist ancestors.

Some of my favorite things from the book:  Teeth appear to have arisen before skeletons and the first skulls were very tooth like.  He called this an “inconvenient tooth,” which I think you’ll agree is hilarious.  Our earlier ancestors had gonads by their heart (like sharks today), but they have since traveled to the nether region, which causes some problems especially for males who are more susceptible to hernias thanks to the gonad’s peregrination.  The end of the book talks about how the design of the early ancestors that has been tinkered with over time causes some design issues.  There are more than a few good pieces of information to have in your toolbox next time evolution comes up with your fundamentalist relations who try to deny the fish (and sponge) within. 

If you haven’t picked it up, it’s worth a read.  My intro biology students should love it and it made me wonder if Shubin’s book might be the preferable way to cover animal diversity.  Also a must read for med-types!  Shubin has some nice descriptions of nerves leaving the skull and explaining why they wend the way they do.  The interconnection between our lives and the lives of all biodiversity are pretty awe inspiring, and Shubin’s book definitely turns on the awe-o-mometer. 

What's Not For Dinner

  

A visit From the Ocean Doctor is better than a visit to your medical doctor.  First there is no undressing and donning a questionable paper outfit designed, presumably, on the set of Star Trek.  This week, Dr. David Guggenheim aka “The Ocean Doctor” came to visit us at Miami U to tell us about the state of the world’s ocean, its coral reefs, and the other animal life there.  Although the presentations were interesting and visually stunning, the report was not good.  For instance, less than 5% of the coral reefs are expected to remain by 2030 at our current rate of pollution, destruction, and oceanic warming.  Coral supports an estimated 25% of the ocean’s diversity and they are some of the oldest living species on the planet at 4000 years. 

Of all the risks to corals and to oceans, the one that disturbs me the most, and which also seems the easiest fix, is the high environmental cost of fishing.  Watching some of the footage of oceanic habitat destroyed by trawling and the inevitable consequence of by-catch in the fishing industry, I wondered if it was ethical to eat fish at all in this world with 7 billion hungry humans.  On principle, it seems conceivable that we should be able to eat fish raised or caught in a sustainable way.  And aquaculture could potentially alleviate some of the environmental and ethical concerns.  (Whole Foods apparently has good labeling on their fish.)   However, unless you go out and catch your own fish for dinner from a stream or lake, you do not have good assurance that this fish was collected in a way that takes into account sustainability and humane practices.  (Of course, fishing with rod and reel also drives stocking fish into rivers and lakes, which is environmentally problematic in its own way. Dinner has become rather complicated.)  Until we have better practices that do not result in significant by-catch and environmental degradation, the most environmentally responsible decision may be to stick with your greens and beans and let the oceanic habitats recover.  The Ocean Doctor did not discourage eating fish, but like a visit with my regular doctor, I left my meeting with him with the feeling that I needed to reevaluate some of my choices.