Wandering Ponies #4

Ahh, the Internet.

It’s been a while between Wandering Ponies and the Internet has been providing some mad lolz of late, so bear with me while I indulge. Or you know, try and enjoy the mad lolz. If that’s what you’re into. I’m not one to assume. Plus you look like a busy person. You probably don’t have time for mad lolz. I don’t know. Hey nice tie. What are those, birds? Yeah that’s cool. Hey do you reckon you could make an entire tie out of a bird? That would be wild. It’d have to be a pretty big bird though. What? Oh okay, you’re busy. Sorry, just saying I like your tie. Jesus.

Anyway, first up, one of the best services the Internet has provided in, I don’t know, a long time: BIG ASS MESSAGE. Perfect for those times when you need to ask this, or this.

When it comes time to give your kids Teh Drugs Talk, best you don’t show them this. Because giant teddy bears who cough up business men and whack giant pigeons with street lamps are AMAZING:

Novelty Tumblrs make me infinitely happy, and these two are among the best new ones around. There’s Godzilla Haiku, because you might be a hungry reptile the size of a twenty-storey building, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings. And Michael Buble Being Stalked By A Velociraptor. Because dude has it coming to him.

Next, if you think Running Ponies has an unhealthy obsession with sex, and sea creatures, and sex, you obviously haven’t visited the Hectocotyli blog. Dude makes even me blush. And giggle like a school girl. Or both, simultaneously.

And finally, because everyone these days seems to have forgotten what ACTING is about, I give you: DEATH DISC:

Balloon horse by Andrea Galvani

Happy Easter.

– bec xox

Harden the Fuck Up, Dying Temnothorax Unifasciatus

For a recent study published in Current Biology, Jurgen Heinze and Bartosz Walter from the University of Regensburg monitored the behaviour of over a hundred terminally ill ants. By observing 28 Temnothorax unifasciatus colonies containing individuals infected with Metarhizium anisopliae, a contageous, parasitic fungus, they found that these ants instinctively removed themselves from the nest to die in seclusion. As fungus pathogens can be easily spread through contact between infected and healthy individuals, Heinze and Walter suggest that this withdrawal from the colony could be evidence of an innate altruistic trait.

Having treated 70 worker ants with the deadly fungus spores, they recorded the behaviour of the 52 individuals that died within ten days of infection. The eight individuals who died with no evidence of spores notwithstanding, 70% of the infected individuals were observed to withdraw themselves from the nest before expiring. A further 21% were found dead outside the nest, but this happened overnight, so the researchers can’t be sure whether they left voluntarily or were actively removed. There were no observed instances of spore-treated ants being removed or attacked by healthy workers, however.

To refute the alternate theory that this behaviour is caused by pathogen host manipulation, as spores can be dispersed over a wider area when an infected individual ventures away from the nest, 70 uninfected individuals were exposed to 95% carbon dioxide to dramatically accelerate their aging. What Heinze and Walter observed in these moribund ants was the same tendency of social withdrawal prior to death, stating, “Actively leaving the nest and breaking off all social interactions thus occurred regardless of whether the individuals were infected or not.”

During the period leading up to their death, the infected and moribund ants weren’t treated any differently by the healthy workers. They would still engage in both active and passive interactions with their colony until it was time to leave. Once they left, the dying ants would never attempt to return to the nest.

Desert Locust nymph infected by Metarhizium anisopliae

Now while this might seem like an unusually selfless act, I’m willing to bet those dying ants won’t budge until they’ve milked every ounce of sympathy, gratitude, extra helpings of discarded milkshake and so on from the colony first. Or they’ll sulk like mad until they realise no one will miss them and then eventually clear off. But either way, it kind of renders any claim to altruism pretty much void in my books. Like, they’d all be happily marching towards some three-day-old chicken wing, playing whatever the new politically-correct name for Chinese Whispers is, “I have light bulbs made of dirt in my underpants and this email smells like a purple fax machine… LOL!!!!!1!” when one of them suddenly clutches his side all like, “Erm, you guys go ahead, I’ll just be a minute.”

“Dude, that’s not how you fix a stitch, you have to stretch your thorax, not scratch at it.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks…”

But the itching won’t go away, and no amount of, “What? Oh, no it’s really nothing, I just wore some old sweater to bed last night and forgot to use fabric softener so it was wicked itchy. Boy, did I learn my lesson! Guys?” will convince them that he’s not sick and pretty soon the expedition will come to a grinding halt.

“Look man, we all know you’re dying. It’s so obvious. But, you know, we didn’t want to say anything straight away, like, “Dead ant walking! Holy shit, move aside, this guy’s a goner!” because we’re not that heartless. Like, that time when you pretended to be tying your shoelaces when really you were scratching your gaster? We didn’t say anything. But come on, you’re not even wearing any shoes! Anyway, it really is time for you to, erm, “vacate the premises,” so to speak. For the team. You understand…”

And the infected ant will be all, “Oh okay. Fair enough. I don’t want you guys to, you know, die a slow and painful and itchy death like me. It’s cool, I’ll just go away and make a nest somewhere and perish. Alone. Oh, on second thoughts, I’ll probably be too sick and alone to make a nest for myself. I’ll just have to stand out in the cold and wait. For death. It’s supposed to rain tonight, right? That’s okay, I’m just going to die anywa—”

“Okay, sounds good.”

“What? That’s it? I bust my hump every day for this colony and–”

“Ugh. Fine. Does anyone here know this guy and want to say goodbye? Anyone? You there, dude with the big head, you know him?”

And some nervous-looking ant with a bulbous head will suddenly feel hundreds of compound eyes on him as he mutters in a very tiny voice, “What, me? Him? I don’t know, I don’t meet a lot of ants these days and the ones I do meet all look the same…”

Then another ant will pipe up, all like, “Hey weren’t you on that expedition last month where half the workers got stepped on by a labrador and you only got out of it alive because you were trapped in a huge protective bubble of saliva?”

And the infected ant will be like, “Yeah?”

“Thought so. Wait, what? No, no, guys, I don’t really know him. I just know of him. I’m not making a speech or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

So the colony will be like, “Well, we tried. We’d get Bighead over there to give you a hug or something, but then he’d probably get infected too, and we kinda need him to help carry that chicken wing back because it’ll probably be heavy. So. You know…”

“What about a brief applause then? Air-kisses? Can you at least bring me back some chicken before I head off? I’ll probably be too weak to find my own food pretty soon…”

“OH MY GOD NO AIR-KISSES JUST FUCKING GO.”

“Alright fine. I’m going. Bunch of ungrateful shits…”

“I heard that. Wow. Hate that guy. What an emo.”

“Hey can we get ice cream on the way to the chicken wing?”

“I don’t see why not!”

Original Paper // Not Exactly Rocket Science.

More on ants:

Beware Those Yellow Crazy Ants, Christmas Island White-Eye…

You’re Not God, Desert Ants.

Back To Work, Sleepy Fire Ant!

– bec

Wandering Ponies #3

The Internet pretty much begins and ends with this. The vacant, cock-eyed horse stare. The tiny moustachioed gentleman with the shrunken, useless legs. The buxom peasant woman with the giant meaty paws. It’s got it all. You’ll probably listen to it ten times in a row before realising that you just listened to it ten times in a row before listening to it another ten times in a row. Youtube for techno, acoustic and heavy metal remixes.

SHUT UP WOMAN, GET ON MY HORSE

For a number of reasons (or just one who rather inconveniently requires vaccinations during the ridiculously expensive Festival Season ) I’m still too poor to buy the t-shirts I’ve had on my WANT list for months. But those of you who are in a more fortunate financial situation might want to consider picking up a The Open Dinosaur Project t-shirt here. And if you buy one for me while you’re at it I’ll sing a song about you. In my head. And then I’ll tell you about it, that it was really awesome and stuff and you’ll ask if you can hear it but I would have forgotten it by then because I don’t write these things down. Sound good?

As close to a living theropod as you could probably get, the Secretarybird is pretty much the coolest bird ever. Too bad the zoo guy ruins everything with his shit jokes. You could recruit like twenty of these to form a personal army they’d be the most dainty deadly weapon ever.

Brand new site, Pterosaur.net, launched a couple of weeks ago and it’s a ridiculously thorough and nice-looking project run by the likes of Dave Hone, Darren Naish, John Conway (pic above by) et al. dealing with a creature we’re likely to hear a good deal about this year. Best make sure you’ve got your pterosaur general knowledge up to speed first.

And finally, the devastatingly charming Oatmeal’s guide for How to Tell if Your Cat is Plotting to Kill You. I know I’ll be sleeping with one eye open from now on…

– bec

Your Friends Aren’t Just Going To Forget You Envenomated Them, Sinornithosaurus.

According to a new paper coming from the Chinese Academy of Sciences, a particular type of small feathered dromaeosaurid might have been armed with a venomous bite. The study, led by Enpu Gong, centers on an unusual 12mm-long anterior maxillary tooth from a Sinornithosaurus, a predatory raptor and distant bird-relative first discovered in 1999 in China’s Yixian Formation. Not only does this tooth seem oddly long and fang-like, but it has a thin, distinct groove running right through it from root to tip, a feature which Gong suggests functioned as a channel for venom to pass from the animal’s skull into the flesh of its prey. Gong goes on to describe the hollow pocket in the side of the face as a possible venom gland, and the pitted canal running between it and the base of the teeth as a venom collecting duct.

Comparing the Sinornithosaurus with other anterior-fanged animals such as vine snakes, Gong suggests that it would mainly hunt small birds and mammals, using its long fangs to “grab and hold” its prey and penetrate the layer of feathers or fur to deliver a 6mm-deep poisonous bite. Describing the nature of the venom he hypothesises, “The poison of Sinornithosaurus may have been similar in properties to rear-fanged snakes and helodermid lizards in that it did not kill the envenomated animal quickly but rather placed it into a rapid state of shock.”

But Gong’s claim is not without its critics. No archosaur has been definitively proven to have been venomous as yet, so to state that the Sinornithosaurus was requires some pretty powerful evidence, and not everyone is convinced these grooved fangs provide that. Tom Holtz, a palaeontologist specialising in carnivorous dinosaurs at the University of Maryland notes, “They give a number of different physical features that they interpret as signs of poison or poison delivery systems but which, in my opinion, are more easily interpreted in other types of biological contexts.”

Interpreting the unusual length of the “fangs” as possibly caused by the teeth slipping out of their sockets, Holtz suggests that the grooves could simply be the depressions found in most theropod teeth, only more pronounced in this particular specimen due to wear and tear. The longer-held belief regarding the function of these depressions relates the teeth to bayonet blades, the groove helping to relieve surface tension post-penetration, ensuring a less painful extraction. Further, Holtz states that many dinosaurs have a small cavity in their jawbone, but these have typically been interpreted as air sacs required for cooling, not venom glands. And that the area of the venom collecting canal is damaged in a couple of Sinornithosaurus fossil specimens really doesn’t help to strengthen Gong’s and co-author, David A. Burnham’s case. No one’s denying the possibility of venomous theropods, but more evidence is needed before their claim can be proven definitively.

Arguments aside, Sinornithosaurus, say you did actually have this venomous bite afterall. I’d imagine it’d be the kind of thing you could easily get carried away with, but much to your own peril, I’d wager. Like, you’ll be playing Battleships at Chirostenotes‘ house because your housemate and his girlfriend are fighting about Mario Kart (again, Sinornithosaurus) all like, “Oh my god, did I not tell you last time I wasn’t going to play with you if you’re going to do those shortcuts? No I don’t want to learn how to do them. Fuck,” when Chirostenotes will be like, “I’m going to make a sandwich. If you cheat when I’m gone I’ll totally know.”

“But it’s like almost midnight…”

“Just because you can’t have carbs before bedtime…”

So you’ll sneak a look a his side anyway, because he pretty much just called you fat but you can’t say anything because you’re a guy and you don’t want to look like an idiot. But instead of, you know, playing it smart and littering your fake guesses with a few decoys so it’s not completely obvious that you’re a massive cheat, you go straight for Chirostenotes’ aircraft carrier the moment he gets back, and he’ll be like, “Oh my god, you totally cheated,” his mouth full of bread and some kind of tiny lizard meat.

“No I didn’t.”

“Yeah right. Hey what are you– hey! Heeey!”

“Oh. Sorry, I thought that was your sandwich.”

“Umm no, that was my leg. Jesus! Wait, you’re leaving?”

And before he can point out that if you bring a bottle of wine to someone’s house, you’re not really supposed to take the leftovers home with you, he’ll go into shock, and you’ll have a clean getaway.

But the only lesson you’ll learn from this whole experience, Sinornithosaurus, is how easy it is to get out of a shitty situation by, you know, poisoning your friends. Like, you’ll be at your girlfriend’s house and she’ll try on this hideous new dress she just bought and she’ll be like, “Does this make me look fat?” and it will, Sinornithosaurus, so you’ll be like, “Hey is that a cheesecake behind you?”

“What?” Ow!”

Your boss will ask you what the hell kind of report was that you just submitted (no kind, Sinornithosaurus) so you’ll bite him and take the rest of the day off. You won’t have any change for the bus and the bus driver will give you this look like, “Whatever, man,” when you try to hand over a fifty so you’ll bite him and then wait for the next bus. But while you might think this is all pretty awesome, remember, Sinornithosaurus, that it is only temporary. You’ll be at some party with your new girlfriend and she’ll be all pissy because you picked her up before she was done getting ready and then your ex-girlfriend will turn up unexpectedly all, “I don’t want to get into a whole thing with you here, but I don’t think you’re supposed to poison your girlfriend and then replace her two days later without so much as a phone call, but whatever.” And then your current girlfriend will get even more pissy because she didn’t even know you had an ex-girlfriend, let alone a fat one, and they’ll end up making friends just to spite you and you’ll end up bitter and alone. Plus your boss will almost definitely fire you when you attempt to turn up on Monday morning and he’s unlikely to respond too kindly to any requests for a reference or free stationery. Hardly seems worth it now does it, Sinornithosaurus?

* Fig. 1 by Emily Willoughby. Buy the print here. Figs. 2 and 3 from original study credited to David A. Burnham.

For more info: Dinosaur Tracking Blog // Not Exactly Rocket Science // Original Paper published by PNAS

– bec

Lose the Coconut Shells, Veined Octopus. You’re Holding Everyone Up!

Researchers from the Museum of Victoria have stumbled across a rare case of invertebrate tool manipulation in Indonesian waters. While studying the delightful mimic octopus (Thaumoctopus mimicus), biologists Dr Julian Finn and Dr Mark Norman observed the peculiar and complex behaviour of more than twenty veined octopuses (Amphioctopus marginatus) off the coasts of Northern Sulawesi and Bali. When coconut shell halves are discarded (or rubbish or shells etc), they fall to the ocean floor to be buried by the substrate which gradually settles on top. Using jets of water expelled from their mantle, the veined octopuses would flush the mud and sand away from inside the shells and use them for shelter from lurking predators.

On four occasions the veined octopuses were observed to stack the coconut shell halves inside themselves so they could wrap their tentacles around and awkwardly “stilt-walk” across distances of up to twenty metres with them in tow. “We were blown away,” Dr Norman told National Geographic. “It was hard not to laugh underwater and flood your mask.”

When compared to their usual unencumbered jet-propelled locomotion, this “lumbering octopedal gait” is a noticeably inefficient and risky alternative, the only benefit being the future manipulation of the shells as a safety enclosure from potential predators. That the octopuses are opting to haul these shells around for later use instead of simply darting behind a rock when a threat is detected, together with the fact that the shells need to be manipulated in a certain way in order to make them work signifies that these cephalopods have the heightened cognitive ability required for basic tool use. “I think these sorts of behaviours are everywhere in nature. There’s really complex behaviours that we write off because we think we’re the clever ones.” Dr Norman told ABC News.

Now while everyone might think this is really awesome and ingenious and everything, to me it all seems a bit much. I know Under the Sea isn’t always a bed of roses, but the other sea creatures get by okay without having to cart a couple of coconut shells around with them all the time, so I don’t see why the veined octopus thinks it needs to. Like, they’d all be hanging out, the veined octopus, the weedy pygmy seahorse and the nudibranch, trying to reconstruct the events of last night’s Christmas party whilst battling through their mad hangovers like:

“Um so I hear you landed a coffee date with the GM who looks like Alec Baldwin.”

“Shit. I don’t remember that at all. Isn’t he married?”

When the nudibranch will be all, “Erm guys, my rhinophores just retracted, so you might want to keep your voices down. It’s probably nothing, and I’m hyper-coloured to the shit anyway, so I don’t care.”

And the weedy pygmy seahorse will be all, “Oh okay, yeah that’s coo…”

But the veined octopus, in typical melodramatic fashion, will be stilt-walking back and forth like a madman, cutting them off all, “OH MY GOD WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE EVERYONE GET THE FUCK OUT I CAN’T FIT YOU IN HERE YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN OH MY ARGHHHHH!!”

But it turns out to be a false alarm and they’ll all laugh about it afterwards, but the veined octopus will only laugh because everyone else is laughing because he actually thinks it’s a very serious situation and they just got lucky this one time. Then the nudibranch will be like, “So who wants ice cream?” And they’ll all get ice cream but the weedy pygmy seahorse won’t be able to finish hers so she’s like, “It’s cool, I’ll just take it home and put it in the freezer for later. What..?”

Only the veined octopus will slow them down with his awkward coconut-laden stilt-walking and the weedy pygmy seahorse will get all pissy like, “Seriously, veined octopus, hurry up. Lose the fucking shells. Once these flavours melt into each other it’s ruined.”

“JUST THROW IT OUT.”

“NO. IT’S FINE. HURRY UP.”

But then the veined octopus will see the nudibranch’s rhinophores start to retract again and he’ll freak out like, “Shit, Nudibranch, your rhinosphores… OH MY GOD WE’RE ALL IN SO MUCH TROUBLE ESPECIALLY ME BECAUSE I’D MAKE A REALLY AWESOME MEAL LOOK HOW MEATY I AM COMPARED TO YOU GUYS ARGHHHHH…”

And the nudibranch will try to explain that there is no danger, he just wants to mate with the pretty lady nudibranch chilling somewhere nearby, but the veined octopus will throw back a muffled, “Better safe than sorry!!” through his coconut shells. And then he’ll make them wait and hide for another ten or fifteen minutes before he decides it’s safe to move on.

“You know, it’s probably because of me that we’re all still alive. Oh… hey, seahorse, what happened to your ice cream?”

“Fuck off.”

Current Biology paper here. // Visit Microecos for more examples of invertebrate tool use.

More on octopuses:

* Oh Hey, Cephalopod. How Much of That Did You Just Hear…?

* Intelligence Test – You’re Doing It Wrong.

– bec

Wandering Ponies #2

While my brain eases itself out of the haze of Christmas madness, here are some things that have amused me of late:

It’s no secret that I’m a massive fan of Alex Wild’s photography, so I thought I should mention it here. What makes it so special is that the galleries are organised according to taxonomy, region, behaviour and life history, making it a dream to naviagte through. Not to mention the whole thing is just saturated with Wild’s magnificent ability to capture the expression and beauty of each individual ant’s face. From the delicately pretty Oecophylla to the almost dog-like Nothomrymecia, you’ll find it hard not to fall hopelessly in love with the ants after spending some time here.

If you haven’t been following the saga that was Matt Wedel’s involvement with The Discovery Channel’s Clash of the Dinosaurs, it’s well worth a read over at his blog, SV-POW!. One of my pet hates is people/companies who are too lazy and/or stubborn to project accurate science to the public, and this is a classic example. Fortunately Matt’s complaints were heard, and it looks like the mistakes are being rectified.

File this under #alliwantforchristmas. It’s also exactly what I’m like when I’m hungover and someone offers me ginger snaps:

Next up is a site I found (admittedly 500 Internet years late) through their video of Ben “I’m a Doctor!” Goldacre. Rather Good is like a cracked-out journey through the Valley of Bad Music across a bridge made of whiskers on a jittery talking pony named Claus. Personal favourites include Buffy’s Swearing Keyboard – Make Buffy say ‘hymen’ in an arguably sexy tone! – and the dangerously addictive Psycho Techno Hypno Kitten Snake.

And finally, because my love for Jack Bauer will never die, here he is interrogating Santa:

Laters,

– bec