上海后花园419论坛

Neither a giant asteroid nor a gradual die out can take full blame for dinosaurs’ demise.

Rather, the culprit may be both, two new studies suggest.

Tens of millions of years before the asteroid delivered its killer blow some 66 million years ago, the number of dinosaur species had already begun to drop, researchers report online April 18 in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. But not all dino groups were in decline, including some maniraptoran dinosaurs, a different group of researchers suggests online April 21 in Current Biology.
At first glance, the two studies seem to conflict, but “they can coexist,” says paleontologist Michael Benton, who coauthored the PNAS paper. Both studies add to what has become an increasingly intricate picture of dinosaurs’ final days.

“Things are a wee bit more complicated than we used to think,” says Benton, of the University of Bristol in England.

In the 1960s and ‘70s, scientists generally believed that dinosaurs petered out after a long, gradual decline. That view took a U-turn in 1980, when researchers proposed that, instead, an asteroid impact might have suddenly triggered the extinction. “The flip-flop was quite extreme,” Benton says of the changed thinking. “Dinosaurs went from long-term decline to instant death.”

What actually happened, he says, is probably more nuanced. Benton and colleagues analyzed the number of dinosaur species emerging and going extinct over a huge timescale: roughly 175 million years. Around 40 million to 50 million years before the mass extinction, dinosaurs started losing species faster than they were gaining new ones, the researchers found. This loss in diversity could have made it harder for dinosaurs to bounce back from the asteroid’s catastrophic impact.

“This doesn’t in any way attack the importance of the impact,” Benton says. But across the board, he says, dinosaur species numbers were dwindling. At least two groups, however, seemed to buck the trend. Hadrosaurs (duck-billed dinosaurs) and ceratopsids (the group that includes Triceratops) were booming up until the end, the team found.
According to the Current Biology analysis, toothed maniraptorans (small birdlike relatives of velociraptors) were thriving, too. A detailed examination of more than 3,000 of these dinosaurs’ teeth suggests that these dinos’ ecosystem was pretty stable millions of years before the extinction, says study coauthor Derek Larson, a paleontologist at the Philip J. Currie Dinosaur Museum in Alberta and the University of Toronto.

Larson and colleagues looked for variations in the teeth’s dimensions, and the size of tooth serrations. Then they determined how much that variation changed over time. Big changes could be a hint that these dinos were on the decline, Larson says. But instead, “things basically stayed the same through the last 18 million years of the Cretaceous,” he says.

Toothed maniraptorans “seemed to be doing just fine right up until the extinction,” says University of Oxford paleobiologist Roger Benson, who was not involved in either study.

Larson’s team wondered why the toothed, meat-eating maniraptorans went extinct after the impact while their relatives — the beaked ancestors of modern birds — didn’t. The answer could be dietary, the researchers propose. They analyzed the diets of modern birds to try and figure out what an ancestral bird might have eaten. It probably relied on seeds, Larson says, a hardy food source that could have lasted for decades.

Seeds might have sustained ancient birds through a “nuclear winter,” the debris-darkened skies that could have blotted out the sun following an asteroid impact. When hoards of plants and animal species died out, and dinosaurs ran out of food, he says, “the only resource that would have been reliable and available would have been seeds.”

Herbivores beware: Take a bite out of bittersweet nightshade (Solanum dulcamara), and you might have an ant problem on your hands. The plants produce a sugary goo that serves as an indirect defense, attracting ants that eat herbivores, Tobias Lortzing of Berlin’s Free University and colleagues write April 25 in Nature Plants.

Observations of wild nightshade plants in Germany suggest that plants that ooze goo attract more ants (mostly European fire ants, or Myrmica rubra) than undamaged plants. In greenhouse experiments, those ants fed on both the goo and roving slugs and flea beetle larvae, substantially reducing leaf damage. Leaf-munching adult flea beetles and, to a lesser degree, slugs prompted the goo production. The ants didn’t attack the beetles but did protect the plant from slugs and beetle larvae.

Plenty of other plants produce defensive nectars via organs called nectaries, and nightshades’ bleeding may be a unique, primitive version of that protective strategy, the scientists report.

Labrador retrievers tend to be more overweight and keen to scarf down their kibble than other dog breeds. Eleanor Raffan of the University of Cambridge and her colleagues chalk this trend up — least in part — to a suspect gene.

The team found that, among a small group of assistance dogs, a form of a gene called POMC that was missing a chunk of DNA was more common in obese Labs than in lean ones. This held true on a larger scale, too: Out of 411 Labs in the United Kingdom and United States, 22 percent carried the deletion mutation. Looking across other breeds, only Labradors and flat coat retrievers, a close relative, carried the gene variant, which also correlated with greater weight and food begging tendencies, the team reports May 3 in Cell Metabolism.

POMC plays a role in a metabolism pathway, and the deletion may inhibit the production of proteins that regulate hunger, the researchers suspect. (That might explain why the variant turned up in about 75 percent of assistance dogs, which are trained using food motivation.)

Not all cosmic mysteries lie light-years away. Some secrets are being unearthed on our nearest neighbor, about a quarter of a million miles from home.

For almost seven years, NASA’s Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter has been keeping a close eye on the moon. During its tenure, the spacecraft has cataloged craters, pinpointed subsurface deposits of water ice and found evidence of recent volcanic activity. It has even witnessed crashes by three other spacecraft. (One, LCROSS, launched a plume of ejecta from the south pole that scientists searched for water vapor.)
“No other mission has orbited the moon for as long as LRO has,” says Noah Petro, a geologist at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Md. Constant lunar vigilance has “really pushed our understanding of how the moon changes today, over the last billion years and what happened early on.” A July 15 special issue of Icarus celebrates the mission’s many discoveries, which fill out not only the moon’s story, but also reveal how Earth and other rocky planets have been pummeled by space debris over the last 4 billion or so years.

When LRO launched on June 18, 2009, its goals were more modest. The spacecraft was sent to scout landing sites for future astronaut expeditions, hunt for resources such as water and better understand the radiation hazards that human crews would face. Since completing its original one-year assignment, the mission has been extended several times. LRO plans to stay busy through September, and the team has asked NASA for two more years.
Water ice turned up in some unexpected places. Other spacecraft had previously seen hints of water, but none could map precisely where it was. Researchers suspected that water lay within permanently shadowed craters at the poles, and LRO did find evidence of ice there. But LRO also found that not all shady spots harbor water, and not all water is found in the shadows — some appears to hide under soil that sits in direct sunlight.

“That was bit of a surprise,” says LRO project scientist John Keller, also at Goddard. Looking at temperature alone, it seems, isn’t enough for understanding the history of water on the moon. In the polar shadows, where temperatures hover around –250° Celsius, water ice can endure for billions of years. But elsewhere, water may have been trapped more recently and protected by the terrain. “There’s an interplay with time, temperature and topography underlying this water story,” says Keller.
How the various water deposits are implanted and shuffled about is one enduring puzzle. How small subterraneous pockets stayed warm for so long after the moon formed is another. Lava oozed on the surface in the last 100 million years, judging by smooth, dark terrains that are sparsely cratered. “This flies in the face with what was known about the moon,” Petro says. “We thought lunar volcanism ended about a billion years ago.”
Some changes are much more recent. In 2013, Earth-based telescopes detected a flash of light from the moon. LRO checked it out and found a new crater 18 meters across. “What was surprising was how far the ejecta went,” Keller says. Debris had been tossed 35 kilometers — much farther than expected from a space rock estimated to be only about a meter wide.

Understanding what’s currently hitting the moon and the traces those objects leave is crucial to interpreting the history of impacts plastered across the lunar surface; similar impacts also affected Earth but most have been erased by weather and geologic forces. “The moon is our way of studying the history of the Earth since the creation of the Earth-moon system,” Petro says.

One of the seven instruments that LRO carries is a laser altimeter, a beam of light that scans and maps the surface in exquisite detail. “That’s been a game changer,” says Simone Marchi, a planetary scientist at the Southwest Research Institute in Boulder, Colo. “We can use the topography data to find old degraded craters that otherwise would not be easily detected in imagery.”

Detailed maps reveal craters on top of other craters, laying out a rough sequence of when things hit the moon. And astronauts have brought back samples from some of these terrains, allowing researchers to use radiogenic dating to figure out when craters formed. That in turn supplies a record of what was smacking into other planets and asteroids. “We have a deep understanding of collisions going back to the beginning of the solar system,” says Marchi. “That can only be done with the moon.”

There’s nothing like having kids to open your eyes to the world’s dangers. With two little rascals in tow, grocery stores, dentists’ offices and even grandparents’ homes morph into death traps full of sharp, poisonous and heavy things. Short of keeping a tight grip on little hands, there’s not much you can do to childproof absolutely everything when you’re out and about. At home, it’s easier to make rooms safe for kids: Cover electrical outlets, keep drugs and potentially poisonous stuff out of reach, bolt dressers to the wall, and so on.

But every so often, I come across a study that points out an unexpectedly dangerous object. Clearly, none of these things rise to Bag O’Glass danger levels. But in the spirit of The More You Know, here are five objects that carry hidden risks to children:

Laundry pods
These cute, candy-colored packets can be irresistible to children — and toxic when eaten. Since 2012, when single-load pods for laundry detergent became popular, poison control centers have been fielding calls about toddlers who got ahold of pods. From 2013 to 2014, over 22,000 U.S. children under age 6 were exposed to these pods, mostly by eating them, data from the National Poison Data System show. And in just that two-year period, cases of laundry pod exposure rose 17 percent, scientists reported in the May Pediatrics.

Those numbers are particularly worrisome because laundry pods appeared to be more dangerous than regular laundry detergent (liquid or powder) and dishwasher detergent in any form (pod, liquid or powder). In a small number of kids, eating laundry pods caused serious trouble, including coma, respiratory arrest and cardiac arrest. Two children died, scientists wrote in the Pediatrics paper.

Tiny turtles
Oh, they’re adorable, but turtles can carry salmonella, bacteria that come with diarrhea, fever and cramps. Kids are particularly susceptible, and infections can be severe for them. Recognizing this risk, the FDA banned the sale of small turtles (shell less than 4 inches long) in 1975.
Yet in recent years, small turtles have slowly crawled back into children’s grubby little hands, carrying salmonella with them, scientists reported in January in Pediatrics. From 2011 to 2013, turtles were implicated in eight multistate Salmonella outbreaks, hitting hard in children younger than 5. Of the 473 people affected by the outbreaks, the median age was 4.

Big TVs
I’m not talking about the dangers of screen time here. I mean the television itself. Today’s flat screen TVs are more wobbly than the older, heavier tube-based TVs. Every 30 minutes, a kid is treated in the emergency room for a TV-related injury — that’s more than 17,000 children in the United States per year and increasing. And little heads and necks are the most frequently injured body parts.

Liquid nicotine
Along with the rise of e-cigarettes come refill cartridges, most of which contain concentrated liquid nicotine in flavors such as cherry crush, vanilla and mint. These appealing flavors mask nicotine that can be dangerous to kids. In 2015, poison control centers reported over 3,000 incidents of unintentional nicotine exposure, many of them in children. In comparison, just 271 exposures were reported in 2011.

That worrisome increase prompted the Child Nicotine Poisoning Prevention Act of 2015, signed into law by President Obama on January 28, requiring nicotine cartridges to be packaged in child-proof containers — a no-brainer.

Trampolines
Maniacal bouncing is clearly exhilarating for children, but also risky. I say this as a childhood-double-bounce survivor, so I understand the appeal. But just a note of caution: These springy injury machines come with a constellation of scary medical stats. Concussions, broken bones, sprains and neck injuries are signature trampoline troubles. A survey of a national injury database showed that broken bones accounted for 29 percent of all trampoline injuries reported to emergency departments, scientists reported in 2014 in the Journal of Pediatrics Orthopedics. The vast majority (93 percent) of those fractures belonged to children 16 and under.

Attempts to make trampolines safer — by putting a net around the perimeter, for instance — don’t seem to lower injury rates, an Australian study found. That’s why the American Academy of Pediatrics, the Canadian Paediatric Society, the American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons and other groups all urge caution, or an outright ban.

The females of Stylops ovinae, a parasitic insect species that lives in mining bees, have pretty dull lives. While the males, tiny winged insects, get to flit about — for a few hours, at least, before they die — the females are literally stuck at home, wedged inside a mining bee for their entire lives with only a bit of their cephalothorax (neck) exposed. And worse, once a female’s offspring hatch, they will eat her alive. Oh, and they’ve got no wings, legs, antennae, eyes, mouthparts or genitalia.

How do those offspring come about if the females don’t have genitals? That’s where this female insect’s life gets even more miserable: To get those cannibalistic kids, she has to first undergo traumatic insemination — a mating in which the male pierces her body with his penis.

Mining bees are common in Germany, and sometimes the bees emerge weeks earlier in the spring than expected; these bees have been infected with parasites. Despite how prevalent the bees and their parasites are, figuring out how the parasites reproduce was no easy task. These insects are tiny and their reproductive systems even tinier. The male parasite’s penis, for instance, is only 0.4 millimeters long.

Scientists have bandied about hypotheses of how S. ovinae might reproduce. With no female genitalia and males once thought to be rare, one idea was that the insects employed parthenogenesis to create more insects. Other researchers posited that the bee parasites did have sex but the males used the same brood canal through which offspring emerged to inseminate the female.

Hans Pohl of the Friedrich Schiller University Jena in Germany decided to take a closer look. They brought mining bees into the lab, imaged the bee parasites with a scanning electron microscope, recorded four parasite mating events and did mating experiments to see how often and how long the insects mated. Their results appear April 29 in Scientific Reports.

A male bee parasite, they found, will attach himself to the bee then stick his penis into the female’s body through her neck. He then hangs on for an average of 8 minutes, and as many as 34 minutes, before taking off. Only a few seconds are actually needed to transfer his sperm, so copulating for so long, the researchers say, could be a way to reduce sperm competition with other males.

By bypassing a female’s reproductive tract, traumatic insemination itself is also a way for males to better ensure that their sperm is the stuff that a female uses to make offspring. And the female parasites may have evolved a way to not be too harmed by the act — they have a little pocket of tissue in the neck area in which the male deposits his sperm, and this may provide a little protection from the trauma of multiple males stabbing her in the neck.

WASHINGTON — There’s a long-standing joke that NASA is always 20 years from putting astronauts on Mars. Mission details shared at a recent summit shows that the space agency is right on schedule. A to-do list from 2015 looks remarkably similar to one compiled in 1990. One difference: NASA is now building a rocket and test-driving technologies needed to get a crew to Mars. But the specifics for the longest road trip in history — and what astronauts will do once they arrive — remain an open question.

“Are we going to just send them there to explore and do things that we could do robotically though slower, or can we raise the bar?” asked planetary scientist Jim Bell during the Humans to Mars summit. “We need to make sure that what these folks are being asked to do is worthy of the risk to their lives,” said Bell, of Arizona State University in Tempe.
The three-day symposium, which ended May 19, was organized by Explore Mars Inc., a nonprofit dedicated to putting astronauts on Mars by the 2030s.

While the summit didn’t break new scientific ground, it did bring together planetary scientists , space enthusiasts and representatives from both NASA and the aerospace industry to talk about the challenges facing a crewed mission to Mars and rough ideas for how to get there.

Part of the appeal in sending humans is the pace of discovery. Drilling just one hole with the Curiosity rover, which has been exploring Gale Crater on Mars since August 2012 (SN: 5/2/2015, p. 24), currently takes about a week. “It’s a laborious, frustrating, wonderful — frustrating — multiday process,” said Bell.

Humans also can react to novel situations, make quick decisions and see things in a way robotic eyes cannot. “A robot explorer is nowhere near as good as what a human geologist can do,” says Ramses Ramirez, a planetary scientist at Cornell University. “There’s just a lot more freedom.”

Researchers saw the human advantage firsthand in 1997 when they sent a rover called Nomad on a 45-day trek across the Atacama Desert in Chile. Nomad was controlled by operators in the United States to simulate operating a robot on another planet. Humans at the rover site provided a reality check on the data Nomad sent back. “There was a qualitative difference,” says Edwin Kite, a planetary scientist at the University of Chicago. And it wasn’t just that the geologists could do things faster. “The robots were driving past evidence of life that humans were finding very obvious.”
To get astronauts ready to explore Mars, the Apollo program is a good template, said Jim Head, a geologist at Brown University who helped train the Apollo astronauts. “Our strategy was called t-cubed: train them, trust them and turn them loose.” While each of the moon expeditions had a plan, the astronauts were trusted to use their judgment. Apollo 15 astronaut David Scott, for example, came across a chunk of deep lunar crust that researchers hoped to find although it wasn’t at a planned stop. “He spotted it three meters away,” said Head. “He saw it shining and recognized it immediately. That’s exploration.”

Despite a lack of clear goals for a jaunt to Mars, NASA is forging ahead. The Orion crew capsule has already been to space once; a 2014 launch atop a Delta IV Heavy rocket sent an uncrewed Orion 5,800 kilometers into space before it splashed down in the Pacific Ocean (SN Online: 12/5/2014). And construction of the Space Launch System, a rocket intended to hurl humans at the moon and Mars, is under way. The first test flight, scheduled for October 2018, will send Orion on a multiday uncrewed trip around the moon. NASA hopes to put astronauts onboard for a lunar orbit in 2021.

Meanwhile, the crew aboard the International Space Station is testing technologies that will keep humans healthy and happy during an interplanetary cruise. Astronaut Scott Kelly recently completed a nearly yearlong visit to the station intended to reveal the effects of long-duration space travel on the human body (SN Online: 2/29/2016). And on April 10, a prototype inflatable habitat — the Bigelow Expandable Activity Module — arrived at the station and was attached to a docking port six days later. The station crew will inflate the module for the first time on May 26. No one will live in it, but over the next two years, astronauts will collect data on how well the habitat handles radiation, temperature extremes and run-ins with space debris.
Beyond that, the plans get fuzzy. The general idea is to construct an outpost in orbit around the moon as a testing and staging ground starting in the late 2020s. The first crew to Mars might land on the planet — or might not. One idea is to set up camp in Mars orbit; from there, astronauts could operate robots on the surface without long communication delays. Another idea has humans touching down on one of Mars’ two moons, Phobos or Deimos. When crews do land on the Martian surface, NASA envisions establishing a base from which astronauts could plan expeditions.

With so few details, it’s difficult for the space agency to identify specific technologies to invest in. “There have been lots of studies — we get a lot of grief that it’s nothing but studies,” said Bret Drake, an engineer at the Aerospace Corp. in El Segundo, Calif. “But out of the studies, there are a lot of common things that come to the top no matter what path you take.”

Any mission to Mars has to support astronauts for roughly 500 to 1,000 days. The mission has to deal with round-trip communication delays of up to 42 minutes. It will need the ability to land roughly 40-ton payloads on the surface of Mars (current robotic missions drop about a ton). Living off the land is also key, making use of local water and minerals. And astronauts need the ability to not just survive, but drive around and explore. “We want to land in a safe place, which is going to be geologically boring, but we want to go to exciting locations,” said Drake.

The technical and logistical challenges might be the easiest part. “We do know enough to pull this off,” Ramirez says. “The biggest problem is political will.” Congress has yet to sign off on funding this adventure (nor has NASA presented a budget — expected to be in the hundreds of billions of dollars), and future administrations could decide to kill it.

Multiple summit speakers stressed the importance of using technology that is proven or under development — no exotic engines or rotating artificial gravity habitats for now. And a series of small missions —baby steps to the moon and an asteroid before committing to Mars — could show progress that might help keep momentum (and public interest) alive.

“We thought going to the moon was impossible, but we got there,” says Ramirez. “If we dedicate ourselves as a nation to do something crazy, we’ll do it. I have no doubt.”

Schrödinger’s cat can’t seem to catch a break. The unfortunate imaginary feline is famous for being alive and dead at the same time, as long as it remains hidden inside a box. Scientists have now gone one step further, splitting one living-dead cat between two boxes.

Animal lovers can relax — there are no actual cats involved. Instead, physicists used microwaves to mimic the cat’s weird quantum behavior. The new advance, reported May 26 in Science, brings scientists a step closer to building quantum computers out of such systems.
Schrödinger’s cat is the hapless participant in a hypothetical experiment dreamt up by physicist Erwin Schrödinger in 1935. He imagined a cat in a closed box with a lethal poison that will be released if a sample of radioactive material decays. After any given amount of time passes, quantum math can provide only the odds that the material has decayed and released the poison. So from the quantum perspective, the cat is in a state of superposition — both dead and alive. It remains in limbo until the box is opened, and out comes a purring kitty or a lifeless corpse (SN: 11/20/10, p. 15).

In a real laboratory version of the experiment, microwaves inside a superconducting aluminum cavity take the place of the cat. Inside the specially designed cavity, the microwaves’ electric fields can be pointing in two opposing directions at the same time — just as Schrödinger’s cat can be simultaneously alive and dead. These states are known as “cat states.” Now, physicists have created such cat states in two linked cavities, thereby splitting the cat into two “boxes” at once.

Though the idea of one cat in two boxes is “kind of whimsical,” says Chen Wang of Yale University, a coauthor of the paper, it’s not that far off from the real-world situation. The cat state “is shared in two boxes because it’s a global quantum state.” In other words, the cat is not only in one box or the other, but stretches out to occupy both.

Because the states of the two boxes are linked — or in quantum parlance, entangled — if the cat turns out to be alive in one box, it’s also alive in the other (SN: 11/20/10, p. 22). Wang compares it to a cat with two symptoms of life: an open eye in the first box and a heartbeat in the second box. Measurements from the two boxes will always agree on the cat’s status. For microwaves, this means the electric field will always be in sync in both cavities. The scientists measured the cat states produced and found a fidelity of 81 percent — a measure of how close the state was to the ideal cat state. This fidelity is comparable to that achieved in similarly complex systems, the researchers say.

The result is a step toward quantum computing with such devices. The two cavities could serve the purpose of two quantum bits, or qubits. One stumbling block for quantum computers is that errors inevitably slip in to calculations due to interactions with the outside environment that muck up the qubits’ quantum properties. The cat states are more resistant to errors than other types of qubits, the researchers say, so the system could eventually lead to more fault-tolerant quantum computers.
“I think they’ve made some really great advances,” says Gerhard Kirchmair of the Institute for Quantum Optics and Quantum Information of the Austrian Academy of Sciences in Innsbruck. “They’ve come up with a very nice architecture to realize quantum computation.”

The demonstration of entanglement in the two-cavity system is very important, says Sergey Polyakov of the National Institute of Standards and Technology in Gaithersburg, Md. “The next step would be to demonstrate that this approach is actually scalable” by adding more cavities to the mix to build a bigger quantum computer.

Peppered moths and copycat butterflies owe their wing color-changing abilities to a single gene, two independent studies suggest.

A genetic tweak in a portion of the cortex gene that doesn’t make protein painted the speckled gray wings of peppered moths black, researchers report online June 1 in Nature. Genetic variants in DNA interspersed with and surrounding the cortex gene also help some tasty species of Heliconius butterflies mimic unpalatable species and avoid getting eaten by predators, a second team of scientists reports, also June 1 in Nature.
In the often-told evolutionary tale, the color shift in moths began as factories in Britain started to darken the skies with coal smoke during the Industrial Revolution in the 1800s. Victorian naturalists took note as a newly discovered, all-black carbonaria form of peppered moths (Biston betularia) blended into soot-covered backgrounds; the light-colored typica moths, which lacked the mutation, were easily picked off by birds. By 1970, nearly 99 percent of peppered moths were black in some localities. As air pollution decreased in the late 20th century, black moths became more visible to birds. As a result, carbonaria moths are now rare.

“This begins to unravel exactly what the original mutation was that produced the black … moths that were favored by natural selection” during much of the last century, says evolutionary biologist Paul Brakefield of the University of Cambridge in England. “It adds a new and exciting element to the story.”

Wing pattern changes in butterflies and peppered moths are textbook examples of natural selection, but the molecular details behind the adaptation have eluded scientists for decades. In 2011, researchers tracked the traits to a region of a chromosome all the species have in common (SN: 5/7/11, p. 11; SN: 9/24/11, p. 16). Which of the many genes in that region might be responsible remained a mystery.
In peppered moths, the region of interest stretches over about 400,000 DNA bases and contains 13 genes and two microRNAs. “There aren’t really any genes that scream out to you, ‘I’m involved in wing patterning,’” says evolutionary geneticist Ilik Saccheri at the University of Liverpool in England.
Saccheri and colleagues compared that region in one black moth and three typical moths. The researchers found 87 places where the black moth differed from the light-colored moths. Most of the differences were changes in single DNA bases — the information-carrying chemicals in DNA. Such genetic variants are known as SNPs for single nucleotide polymorphisms. One difference was the insertion of a 21,925-base-long stretch of DNA into the region. This big chunk of DNA contained multiple copies of a transposable element, or jumping gene. Transposable elements are viruslike pieces of DNA that copy and insert themselves into a host’s DNA.

By examining the DNA of hundreds more typica moths and ruling out mutations one by one, the team ended up with one candidate: the large transposable element that had landed in the cortex gene. But the jumping gene didn’t land in the DNA that encodes the protein. Instead it landed in an intron — a stretch of DNA that gets chopped out after the gene is copied into RNA and before a protein is made.

The jumping gene first landed in the cortex intron in about 1819, the researchers calculated from historical measurements of how common the trait was throughout history. That timing gave the mutation about 20 to 30 moth generations to spread through the population before people first reported sightings of the black moths in 1848. Saccheri and colleagues found the transposable element in 105 of 110 wild-caught carbonaria moths and none of the 283 typica moths tested. The remaining five moths are black because of another, unknown, genetic variation.

Similarly, Nicola Nadeau, an evolutionary geneticist at the University of Sheffield in England, and colleagues combed through more than 1 million DNA bases in each of five species of Heliconius butterflies. The researchers were looking for genetic variants associated with the presence or absence of yellow bands on the wings.

Nadeau’s team found 108 SNPs in all H. erato favorinus butterflies that have a yellow band on their hind wings. Most of those SNPs were in introns of the cortex gene or outside of the gene. Butterflies that lack the yellow band don’t have those SNPs.

Other DNA changes were found to draw yellow bars on the wings of different species of Heliconius butterflies, suggesting that evolution acted multiple times on the cortex gene with similar results.

The finding that the same gene influences wing patterns in butterflies and moths supports an idea that some genes are hot spots of natural selection, says Robert Reed, an evolutionary biologist at Cornell University.

None of the genetic differences in the butterflies or peppered moths change the cortex gene itself. That leaves open the possibility that the transposable element and SNPs aren’t doing anything to cortex, but may be regulating a different gene. But the evidence that cortex really is the gene upon which natural selection has acted is strong, says Reed. “I’d be surprised if they were wrong.”

Still, it’s not obvious how cortex changes wing patterns, says Saccheri. “We’re both equally puzzled about how it is doing what it appears to be doing.” The teams have evidence that cortex helps determine when certain wing scales grow. In butterflies and moths, the timing of wing scale development affects the color of the wings, says Reed. “You see colors popping up almost like a paint-by-numbers.”

Yellow, white and red scales develop first. Black scales come later. Cortex is known to be involved in cell growth. So varying levels of the protein may speed up development of wing scales, causing them to become colored, or slow their growth, allowing them to turn black, the researchers speculate.

A sloppy light system may be just what a squid needs to hide from predators. Bioluminescent cells in some glass squid work in a surprisingly inefficient way — leaking a lot of light rather than fully channeling it, a new study suggests.

Glass squid have largely transparent bodies, helpful for inconspicuous swimming in deep open water. Marine predators often scan the waters above them for the telltale silhouettes of prey blocking sunlight, but there’s little to betray a glass squid — except for a few notable features such as the shadow-making eyes on its head.
Underneath those eyes, squid in the genus Galiteuthis grow silvery patches of cells that act as undersurface bioluminescence, a camouflage technique that has evolved in various marine creatures, making their shadows less conspicuous to hunters below.

Biophysicist Alison Sweeney of the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia had hypothesized that the cells, called photophores, act like microscopic cables that channel the bioluminescent glow of the squid down or out in a specific direction. The skinny, cablelike cells are surrounded by thin, protein-dense layers that create a silver tube that reminds Sweeney of Saran Wrap. But in the first detailed look at these structures, Sweeney and Pennsylvania colleague Amanda Holt found that the channels performed poorly, letting most of the light leak away sideways. That efficiency, it turns out, could be useful, Sweeney and Holt report June 8 in the Journal of the Royal Society Interface.
“We always expect that the most ‘perfect’ or efficient mechanism will be the pinnacle of evolution, but this study shows that there are many ways to solve challenges imposed by the environment,” says marine biologist Steven Haddock of Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute in California.

Inefficiency might sound like an improbable scenario for success. But, says visual ecologist Justin Marshall of the University of Queensland in Brisbane, Australia, “I believe it.”

Other researchers had discussed the idea that certain sea creatures show a great deal of subtlety in disguising their silhouettes, but Sweeney knew of no other study trying to figure out how supposed cables work.
It turns out that the squid structures were “really bad at being fiber-optic cables,” Sweeney says. The cells are about 50 micrometers long, longish for a cell but short for a cable. And the cells couldn’t guide light even over that short distance without losing much of it. Looking at the cross sections of the photophores under a microscope showed big, uneven gaps in the layers. When she first recognized this, she expected to write “a boring paper that’s, ‘Gee, squid cells kind of sort of guide light, but not really.’”

Then came the “of course” moment for Sweeney and her puzzling measurements. “The lesson that keeps coming back to us,” she says, “is that these things are meaningless until you consider the habitat.” After calculating the light environment where wild squid swim, the researchers realized that the overall effect of the leaking tubes created a plausible approximation for the twilightlike haze in which the squid live. A glowing blur might actually make the eyes less conspicuous to predator approaching from a variety of angles.

Irregularities in the sheathing and shapes of the leaky cables might even make the living cables more remarkable, Sweeney speculates. Dividing them into five rough types, the researchers investigated the kinds of light effects each produced and matched those effects with ocean conditions at two locations off Hawaii. If squid can pick which cable doodads to use and when, the animals could improve the match between their under-eye shine and conditions in the ocean.

Other squid with opaque skin flicker, darken and quick-change their tiny color-making structures, she points out. So, the suggestion that eye-glow structures might change, too, “is not crazy,” Sweeney says.