Octopus sp.
Figure from Cephalopods: A World Guide (amzn/b&n/abe/pwll), by Mark Norman.
Pharyngula
Evolution, development, and random biological ejaculations from a godless liberal
One of the evolutionary peculiarities of my favorite lab animal, the zebrafish, and of cypriniform fishes in general, is that they lack teeth. They lost them over 50 million years ago, and don’t even form a dental lamina in development. So this photo of a cypriniform, Danionella dracula, gave me a bit of a start beyond just the nice fangs and the ghoulish name.
The story doesn’t give much detail, but I’m going to have to look into this. Those are not true teeth, but spiny outgrowths of bone directly from the jaws.
Santino is my hero. He was kept imprisoned in a cage, and his response was to throw rocks at his obnoxious captors. He’d scavenge the prison yard at night for whatever loose stones he could find, and he’d cache them for the morning. When there weren’t enough rocks, he’d pound the concrete retaining wall to knock loose chips of stone. Then when the jailers would show up, zip, zip, zip, a rain of stones on them. You have to respect that kind of defiance and planning.
Santino is a tough guy. Santino is also a chimpanzee.
Doesn’t that make you wonder a bit? Chimpanzees fight back at being caged, and they do so with forethought and resourcefulness. I imagine our ancestors felt the same way at every obstacle to their life, from marauding leopards to bad weather, and they stoked a bit of rage to fight back (which was probably ineffective in dealing with a thunderstorm, requiring slightly cleverer strategies). It’s a start; it’s a way of using your brain to resist, and I think it’s a very human approach to a problem.
Unfortunately, the story does not have a happy ending, and this also tells us something about modern humanity. Santino was not a placid clown for the crowds, so his keepers fixed him: Santino has been castrated.
I think they should have taught him how to use an AK-47 and turned him loose in his native habitat to instruct his brothers and sisters in better ways to defend themselves.
This may shock you, but the Trophy Wife is not perfect. She doesn’t quite get the cephalopod fetish, and thinks I’m a bit…weird. I know! It’s unbelievable that there’s only one person on the planet who thinks that, and I’m married to her! So, anyway, just to appease the spouse, I’ll try to regularly throw in a non-cephalopodian creature. This week, here’s something from back home in our mutual birth state of Washington, a crab being eaten by a sea anemone. Try not to read anything Freudian into it — although now that I’ve mentioned it, everyone will be looking for a metaphor here.
(via Deep Sea News)
A plexiglass box full of blinking circuitry might be your image of the future of artificial intelligence, but I’ll have you know the real deal will be the achievement of maximum cephalopod density in a convenient cubical container. The tentacles snaking out the sides will just be a bonus.
This is the phallus of a beetle.
It actually is that spiky, like a medieval torture instrument, and the females don’t look as if they enjoy getting penetrated with it — it physically tears up their reproductive tract.
I cringe just looking at it.
The media is getting another science story wrong. I keep seeing this discovery of an array of fossil placoderms as revealing the origins of sex, and that’s not right. Sex is much, much older, and arose in single-celled organisms. Come on, plants reproduce sexually. A fish is so far removed from the time of origin of sexual reproduction that it can’t tell us much about its origins.
Let’s get it right. These fossils tells us about the origin of fu…uh, errm, mating in vertebrates.
What we have are a set of placoderm fossils from the Devonian (380 million years ago) of Western Australia (The Aussies are going to be insufferable, now that they can claim to be living in the birthplace of shagging) that show two interesting features: some contain small bits of placoderm armor that show no signs of digestion, and so are not likely to be relics of ancient cannibal feasts, but are the remains of viviparous broods — they were preggers. The other suggestive observation is that the pelvic girdle has structures resembling the claspers of modern sharks, an intromittent organ or penis used for internal fertilization.
This is a photograph of Macropinna microstoma, also called barreleyes. It has a very peculiar optical arrangement. When you first look at this photo, you may think the two small ovals above and behind its mouth are the eyes, and that it looks rather sad…wrong. Those are its nostrils. The eyes are actually the two strange fluorescent green objects that look like they are imbedded in its transparent, dome-like head.
It gets the name “barreleyes” because it’s are cylindrical, rather than spherical; this is an adaptation for better light collection in the dim depths where it lives, using very large lenses but not building a giant spherical eye to compensate. It’s ore like a telescope than a wide-angle camera. Here’s what a single eye in a side view looks like — the lens (L) is what is glowing so greenly in the photos.
As if that weren’t weird enough, the animal has a completely transparent skull cap, and the eyes swivel about within the skull to look out through that translucent cranium. In the two pictures below, the animal is first looking straight up through its head (the eyes are in the same orientation as in the diagram above), and in the right frame it has rotated the binocular-shaped eyes forward to look ahead.
Nature is always coming up with something stranger than we would imagine, and Macropinna is a perfect example. Apparently, the function of this arrangement is to give the animal a sensitive light detector for tracking its prey, bioluminescent jellyfish, and at the same time to shield the eyes from the stinging tentacles of the jelly while it’s eating it.
Robison BH, Reisenbichler KR (2008) Macropinna microstoma and the Paradox of Its Tubular Eyes. Copeia 2008(4):780-784.
