Niche Market Cultural Studies Blogger Still On Strike

…and dip for that matter [groan].

Ironically, I’m holding out for fair compensation when microecos material appears on television. Go figure right?

Otherwise I’d be griping up and down about how “no compelling evidence for echolocation” turned into “NEW BAT FOSSIL PROVES FLIGHT EVOLVED BEFORE ECHOLOCATION” (check out where Icaronycteris and Rousettus fall on their non-logged plots) and “it’s not impossible that Beelzebufo might have munched on hatchling dinosaurs” turned into “GIANT FROG ATE BABY DINOSAURS” (it’s also not physically impossible that dubya likes to wash down his stem-cell shooters with civet urine) etc. etc.

In short, you ain’t missing much.

Pax!

It’s Not Easy Being a Urodele…

Sure, it may be the Year of the Frog, but what is this dude, chopped limb? No. He’s a Southern Two-Lined Salamander, Eurceya cirrigera, that I found beneath the leaf litter in the woods behind Jessica’s old (okay, not that old) Kentucky Home. He showed up on New Years Eve as if to remind us that if 2008 is a year to celebrate hopping croakers, 2007 was a great year for writhing squirmers:

All 3 Taricha torosa pics = J. Lo.

That last nerdy pic seems an appropriate segue to a Schrutian diatribe:

THESIS: The various magical powers attributed to salamanders by classical and medieval authorities [Paracelsus, I'm looking at you] can barely hold a candle to the actual feats of urodeles and their skin-snacking cousins the caecilians.

FACT: Urodeles can regrow entire limbs (snap!)

FACT: Dudeski once ate a Taricha newt (in my hand above) on a dare and DIED.

FACT: All salamanders respire across their skin and some (like the Eurycea in the first picture) have lost their lungs entirely.

FACT: Woah.

NOT-FACT: Salamanders spring-forth fully formed from stones cast into a fire.

Terminal Bracket

I credit the readers of microecos for not being taken in by false content.

discontent, malcontent, supercontent whatever.

’tis better to be oblique than elliptical.

or maybe it’s verse visa.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Sure, this Miocene whale ibone looks sick, but the reception’s crap.

The ice cream truck trolls down the street promising sweet frozen treats with doppler distorted midified Scott Joplin, as my neighbor hums along. The message is the medium, compressed and rarefied.

When our fishapod ancestors first flopped out onto land, they were up against some serious obstacles. One might think that breathing would have presented the greatest difficulty. But, in fact, our lobe-finned predecessors were probably quite comfortable with air breathing, much as modern lungfish are today.

But life on land poses significant impediments to even the most gifted aquatic air breathers. Air is approximately 800 times less dense than water–our ancestors must have felt freaking fat awriggling on the shore. Then there is the dessication issue. Chapped and clumsy, the earliest tetrapods must have seen dry land as a nice place to visit but not an ideal home.

[hopefully you are forgiving all of the rampant anthropomorphizing so far...much more follows]

The low density of air also makes it a piss-poor conductor of sound waves. The speed of sound in water is almost 1500 meters per second, compared to a sluggish 344 meters per second in air. Fish have a sophisticated sensory organ that is highly sensitive to compression waves (i.e. sound) among other things. However, this lateral line system is entirely useless on land and has been lost in most living tetrapods (but retained in some amphibians).

Early vertebrates also exapted their vestibular organs (used to determine position and orientation in the water) to detect acoustic waves. Many fish have small bony structures in their skulls, otoliths(click that link, it’s rad) that are sensitive to sound vibrations in the water. Some fish even use their swim bladder to aid in hearing. As the waves move from the liquid water/fish medium into the gassy bladder they refract up toward the brain. The swim bladder itself turns out to be an exapted lung!

All of these structures are great for hearing sound in the water, but all are probably worthless for detecting the subtle vibrations of our ethereal atmosphere. Dry land must have been a world of eerie silence for the first terrestrial vertebrates.

But, as might be suspected, tetrapods got to solving this problem right quick. Well, assuming you take a few tens of millions of years to be quick.

The challenge is catching aerial vibrations and funneling them down into that same vestibular bony labyrinth that was co-opted by early swimming vertebrates. As noted, air isn’t very dense, so you need some delicate tissue in order to do this.

When Bell designed his and telephone, he faced precisely the same challenge. Morse had already worked out how to translate a physical signal into an electrical one. But a tapping finger is considerably more palpable than a whispered, or even shouted, word.

Following the lead of others, Bell first experimented with a vibrating reed that used a magnet to translate physical vibrations into electrical impulses. After some modest success, he ultimately hitched his reed to a thin membrane which was much more sensitive to the subtle vibrations of the human voice (think kazoo).

Incidentally, the Italian emigrant Antonio Meucci did precisely the same thing when designing a remote communication device, the “telettrofono” for his invalid wife about twenty years before Bell.

The most recent claimant to the title of first membrane-based telecommunication device predates Bell and Meucci by only about 260 million years. Writing in a recent PLOS (open access snap!) paper, entitled “Impedance-Matching Hearing in Palezoic Reptiles: Evidence of Advanced Sensory Perception at an Early Stage of Amniote Evolution” Johannes Müller and Linda Tsuji document the earliest reported organism with what we might call an “aerial ear.”

Middle ear reconstruction of Macroleter poezicus. Figure 3 from Müller and Tsuji 2007.

For what it’s worth, Macroleter is a non-pareiasaurian parareptile from the Permian Mezen River Basin of Russia. Along with some its fellow bomb ass parareptilian cousins, Macroleter appears to have constructed one of the first ‘tympanic’ ear by stretching a skin membrane (pink above) across the back end of the skull. The vibrations detected by this ear were piped into the skull via the stapes (yellow above) which might be viewed as analogous to Bells vibrating reed by the generous reader.

Interestingly, the authors relate this specialized hearing structure to other adaptations related to a “dim-light” (i.e. nocturnal) lifestyle, most notably an enlarged eye socket. Even more intriguingly, they suggest that these adaptations may be related to survival of terrestrial organisms across the Permo-Triassic extinction event.

While Macroleter and co. may have been among the first to develop the tympanic ear, they were hardly the only ones.

We’re exapting all the way to the tangled bank.

REFERENCES

Müller, J. and L Tsuji; 2007. Impedance-Matching Hearing in Paleozoic Reptiles: Evidence of Advanced Sensory Perception at an Early Stage of Amniote Evolution. PLoS ONE 2(9): e889 doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0000889

Wikipedia Invention of the Telephone: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invention_of_the_telephone

Flipping Out

Let’s be honest. For me, every day is “Rockflipping Day.” But, despite being the last, blistering day of my vacation, I found a few moments on September 2nd to turn a few stones in honor of International Rock Flipping Day.

My discoveries were rather pedestrian, no salamanders, no snakes, no scorpions, not even a pseudoscorpion. But, I got a few nice shots nevertheless.

First, a bit about the rocks themselves. At left is rock #1, which observant readers will note has a bit of an anthropogenic look to it. The “anthro” in question is my mother, who has taken up stepping stone manufacture lately. This one consists of four scallop shells, one chunk of chert and sixteen amber glass beads (well, fifteen as one has apparently popped out) set in a round slab of concrete.

At right, rock #2, as extraordinarily observant readers may have noticed is a continuation of the seashell theme, though in this case one with a considerably
more established pedigree. It is a roughly grapefruit-sized fossil oyster, probably Ostrea titan one of the ubiquitous (and consequently very dull) fossils of my childhood.

We’ll do #2 first.

Okay, so this one’s a blatant cheat. Not only is this Pacific Treefrog (Pseudacris regilla) atop the fossil oyster, but I took this photo on Aug. 28th, several days before rock flipping day. But that is the rock I flipped on the 2nd, and there were frogs on and around it then too, so I couldn’t resist.

Many other IRF day participants turned up amphibians (check out the flickr pool). Most amphibians began their life as aquatic larva and, because most need to keep their skins moist in order to survive, the damp undersides of rocks are appealing refugia especially in the heat of a summer day.

Here are some other folks with aquatic roots. At center is a slug, perhaps the Gray Garden Slug (Deroceras reticulatum). He/she (I’m not hedging here slugs are hermaphrodites) belongs to that predominately marine group of delectable gooey animals the molluscs, same as the giant oyster he/she’s hiding under.

Slugs and oysters have followed roughly diametric paths. Oysters bulked up on armor and hunkered down in the ocean perhaps none more so than the massive Ostrea titan. Slugs on the other hand, in a previous incarnation as land snails, set out for shore, grew a lung (the opening to which, known as a pneumostome, is clearly visible in this shot), and reduced the size of their shell until it disappeared altogether. This left them vulnerable to predation and dessication, hence the hiding under the rock in the middle of the day bit.

The isopods off to the right (or if you’d rather, rollie-pollies, sowbugs, pillbugs, woodlice etc.) belong to a predominately marine group, the crustaceans. In fact, they still have gills! This makes them one of the most reliable denizens of moist microclimates, logs, underneath rocks, leaf-litter etc. Hence their place of honor on the IRF logo at top. I’ve written more about terrestrial isopods and the bizarre color-changing infection they get in A Passing Glance.

Myriapods, millipedes and centipedes, are today restricted to land although they had some marine relatives in Paleozoic. They are among the oldest groups of land animals and perhaps the first to work out how to extract oxygen from air directly.

Nevertheless, perhaps in an effort to avoid predators, they still tend to favor secluded environments especially under rocks and leaf litter. This millipede seemed none-to happy to see me and scuttled off before I could snap a decent picture. Others, like the house centipede, actually venture into buildings and cause great distress. Perhaps just to ge back at the rock-flippers.

Distant, uniramian cousins of the myriapods, insects are another decidedly terrestrial group. They’ve been even more bold and successful in their conquest of the land. Even many of the aquatic insects still breathe air, either rising to the surface, trapping bubbles, or growing a snorkel off their back side. This black weevil, probably Otiorhynchus something, might be hiding from predators or it could be recently pupated, laying eggs, or just after my mom’s gardenias.

So Rock #2: three phyla and five classes, six if you count the oyster itself, though at 20 million years dead I’m not sure that you could. Next…

Pretty much the same story over at #1. Lots of isopods…

 

and an earwig pretending to be an isopod.

Best of all, was this Grass Spider (Agelenopsis sp.) who scores us one more class of soil invertebrate, an arachind. And everyone knows arachnids are the best. Next year I’m going to the foothills or lava beds or Arizona or somewhere with some guaranteed scorpions!

BBB.2 - The Pond

Here we go again…

Date: April 21st, 2007

Time: 2:36 PM PDT

Location: West Pond, a storm runoff detention basin in west Davis, Yolo County, CA. (N38 33.246, W121 46.977)

Conditions: Even crappier. Now a steady drizzle and even worse light for photos.

Tools: Canon Powershot SD400, Sibley Guide to Birds, Garmin eTrex handheld GPS unit, Bushnell binos, UFW notepad, one decidedly un-waterproof green Uniball pen.

Protocol: Well, somewhat annoyingly, the pond is surrounded by a chain-link fence. While an hardly impervious barrier, it was sufficient to keep me out, at least in broad daylight with lots of civic-minded citizens jogging and biking past. So I decided to restrict myself to visible/audible vertebrates. I spent ten minutes a piece at each of three observation decks, and another thirty walking around the accessible half of the perimeter with a special eye toward species missed at the decks.

Results:

If you hang out at the West Pond observation decks, you’ll eventually hear tales of hundreds of bird species seen at West Pond. The sign pictured above lists 31 of ‘you might see’ (here’s a better view). I saw or heard 21 (only nine of which are even on that sign) in one hour on a drizzly late April afternoon.

And I didn’t see several I had counted on encountering.

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Like any good suburban wetland there was everyone’s least favorite waterfowl

 

Canada Goose and goslings, Branta canadensis.

And nearly as exciting, reams of American Coot,

 

American Coot, Fulica americana.

These North American staples don’t really need me to pick on them. The Canada goslings above somehow escaped a concerted egg oiling effort by the City of Davis. And what can you say about a bird whose name is synonymous for ‘a crotchety person, usually elderly’, well I suppose it’s more dignified than “Mudhen”.

Of course, there were Mallards too, apparently so unremarkable that I only managed to photograph them accidentally,

Two Drake Mallards, Anas platyrhynchos, square-off against a braying Canada Goose.

Somewhat more exciting on the waterfowl front (I know, I know, Coots are actually rails…) were a pair of Wood duck, who escaped the camera, and a pair of Cinnamon Teal, who might as well have:

A pair of Cinnamon Teal, Anas cyanoptera, lower left.

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Swallows, both Bank and Barn, were present in droves, wholly undaunted by the bad weather.

 

Female Barn Swallow (probably), Hirundo rustica.

They were predictably difficult to photograph, especially with a pocket-sized digital camera and crappy light. Even when they sat still.

Bank Swallow (probably), Riparia riparia perched on a snag.

Other passerines included:

Yellow-Rumped Warblers (Dendroica coronata, neé Audubon’s Warbler)

American Goldfinches (Carduelis tristis)

Cedar Waxwings (Bombycilla cedrorum)

Northern Mockingbirds (Mimus polyglottos)

Scrub Jays (Aphelocoma californica)

American Robin (Turdus migratorius)

And two flycatchers, an Empidonax, probably E. traillii or Willow Flycatcher, and a Black Phoebe,

Black Phoebe, Sayornis nigricans.

 

 

Someone should probably tell this Phoebe, that according to the sign pictured above, it is a winter resident only.

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Anna’s Hummingbird, Calypte anna, (left) and Mourning Dove, Zenaidia macrorua (right).

“Who says we’re not ‘perching birds’ !?”, this pair of non-passerines seem to contest. I was also buzzed by a migrating Selasphorous hummingbird, probably a Rufous.

I saw several Rock Pigeons (neé Doves) (Columba livia), but somehow didn’t think to try to get a photograph.

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Swainson’s Hawk, Buteo swainsoni.

It’s difficult to go anywhere in Davis this time of year and not see a Swainson’s Hawk. There is at least one pair constructing a nest inside the West Pond area. And where ever there are Swainson’ses (not a word, I know)…

 

American Crow, Corvus brachyrhyncus attacking a Swainson’s Hawk.

…there are bound to be some very angry Crows, putting on their classic Tom & Jerry/Coyote & Roadrunner/Itchy & Scratchy-style show. This post, has much, much more than you ever wanted to know about Swainson’s Hawks, including some marginally better pictures and videos!

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The surprising bust was in the shorebird/wader department

Black-necked Stilt (Himantopus mexicanus) top left.

Just a few Stilts, and some noisy but distant Killdeer (Charadrius vociferus). Quite strangely for this pond, I didn’t see a single heron or egret.

————————————————————

Well, that’s about it. Oh yeah, I heard two amphibians: the ubiquitous and alien Bullfrog (Lithobates catesbeianus) and the native Pacific Treefrog Chorus Frog (Pseudacris regilla). I was halfway hoping for a Muskrat, or even an Otter but no dice.

 

I might reblitz the pond later this week under different conditions just for comparison…and better pictures.

 

Next, BBB.3 - The Log.

Can cause death in most vertebrates

‘Including humans, if eaten in sufficent quantity’.
California Newt (Taricha torosa) Photo by Jessica Oster.

Others have bemoaned the paucity of their local herpetofaunae (for example here, and here). California is a large, varied state and boasts roughly 160 reptile and amphibian species¹. In suburban Davis, I can hope to see maybe four or six different types of herps (excluding Connie and Blizzard). But a recent trip up to the Coast Ranges reminded me of California’s largely hidden bounty of slimy and scaly tetrapods.

Turtles aren’t really terribly diverse anywhere but seem to get along most places. Of the twelve species in California, four are introduced, five are marine, and two are restricted to the southeast desert. In Davis, I’m most likely to see non-native Sliders (Trachemys scripta) or whatever other pet species have been dumped in the UCD arboretum.

Northern California has but one native turtle species, the Western Pond Turtle (Actinemys marmorata). We were happy to stumble upon two doing their best clast impression in the bottom of a creek.

Above image links to turtle capture video

with weak Steve Irwin(rip) retread. Sorry.

Frogs and toads come up next highest on the list with twenty-five species. Of these, the Pacific Treefrog (Pseudacris regilla) is one of the most widely distributed and probably most frequently encountered anuran in the state. Nearly every campground restroom boasts at least one resident ‘tree’ frog.

Sure enough, the turtle pond had a treefrog hanging around, in this case doing her best impersonation of a rockfrog.

to come: newts, lizards and snakes. oh my.

¹ - This and almost all other facts and figures from the incredibly expansive Californiaherps.com