One species of amoeba can transport and plant bacteria when it runs short of its normal food, bacteria in the soil. A recent study is the first proof that anything smaller than an ant can “farm,” and shows how evolution can produce alternative strategies to meet the challenges of survival.

Image: M.J. Grimson & R.L. Blanton

The single-celled amoeba Dictyostelium discoideum has no brain, but its complicated social cycle enables farming.

Find the article:

Discussion Questions

1. What is the working definition of “farmer” in the article, and how do these amoeba satisfy this definition?
2. What are some of the social and economic benefits of human agriculture, and how are they rooted in farming? How did the advent of farming change human history?
3. How did the study author determine that it’s “normal” for these amoeba to carry bacteria?
4. Why does the article say that evolution would favor a species that comes up with alternative survival strategies?

Lesson Plans/Activities

1. Be an amoeba detective. Ask students to collect soil samples and, using a compound microscope, have them record the protozoa they can see on this worksheet, or something similar. Have students compare the protozoan’s shape, movement, cyst formation and feeding patterns. (Students can use this resource to help them with the identifications.) Have students discuss the relationship these organisms might have with their ecosystem. Recommended for grades 8-10.
2. Amoebas and me. Have students research the relationship between amoebas and people. Ask them to develop a skit that presents this relationship.
3. Who else is down on the farm? Ask students to research other organisms that farm and write a paper, or conduct a more creative activity, that describes their farming techniques.

Astronomers have just discovered two Earth-size, rocky planets around a nearby star. Though the planets are way too broilsome for life, they suggest that steady improvements in telescope technology has made the discovery of habitable planets just a matter of time.

But as astrobiologists continue to search for life in space, geo-biologists (ok, we coined that) continue to find bizarre life in strange places on Earth: in the dark ocean depths, between grains of sand, and at roasty-toasty temperatures once considered deadly.

Hot, humid, and totally alive!

Fifty years ago, nobody believed organisms could survive near the boiling point of water. When Thomas Brock started probing the hot springs in Yellowstone in the 1960s, he was not looking to overthrow a ground rule of biology. Instead, the University of Wisconsin-Madison professor, then at Indiana University, sought to study bacteria in a simplified, real-world environment.

At the time, and even today, precious little was known about how bacteria live their lives — unless they cause disease.

As Brock sampled his way up a hot stream, he approached its source in a hot spring, and the water temperature rose steadily.

At the time, biologists thought life would not tolerate temperatures near 80° C. But Brock kept finding bacteria, so he kept looking. Eventually, he found some that could live and reproduce near the temperature of boiling water — 100° C.

The prize of his collection was a bacterium he named Thermus aquaticus (for its hot-water habitat) and placed in a public repository for study by other scientists.

Over the years, T. aquaticus proved interesting indeed. For one thing, it was the first of more than 50 species of thermophilic bacteria known to tolerate or require temperatures near water’s boiling point.

For another, it was the first of the Archaea (ancient ones), primitive microorganisms that scientists now regard as a separate and highly primitive kingdom of life.

Deep roots indeed

Because thermophiles are Archaeans, and prefer the steamy conditions typical of early Earth, many scientists think they may tell us about the origin of life itself.

To any basic scientist, those contributions would be enough. But because their enzymes work in high temperatures, where chemical reactions are faster, the thermophiles have proven to be extraordinarily useful.

Today, enzymes derived from thermophiles are used to convert millions of pounds of corn (maize) into sugar to sweeten soft drinks.

But more important, at least to scientists who don’t guzzle fizzy pop at the lab bench, T. aquaticus supplied TAQ polymerase, the essential enzyme for polymerase chain reaction, AKA PCR.

PCR is an artificial technique that does what living critters do every day — replicate DNA. But PCR is the rocket ship of replication, since it allows you to multiply a piece of DNA a billion times in a few hours. That produces enough DNA to analyze to your heart’s content — for genetic engineering, biotechnology and forensic purposes.

PCR depends on TAQ polymerase.

Aware that PCR and soda pop are both billion-dollar industries, corporations and scientists around the world have frantically searched for other thermophiles that may have equally useful enzymes. They’re looking in odd places — not just hot springs and volcanoes, but also deep-sea vents, hot petroleum-bearing rock, the outflow of geothermal power plants, and smoldering piles of garbage.

Prowling for glow-in-the-dark squid

Call me Bob.

Short for bobtail squid. (Did I mention that I’m a 3-4 centimeter cephalopod, formally Euprymna Scolopes?)

Anyway, I hang out in shallow waters around Hawaii. Save your crocodile tears — somebody’s got to live in the sunny, tropical ocean. Anyway, here’s my problem: Even though I have 10 tentacles, I don’t have spines, poisons, or any other decent defense.

So I spend my days burrowed in sand at the ocean bottom, trying to keep out of mischief. Still, a fellow’s got to eat, don’tcha know, so I cruise at night, looking to grab a bite.

Here’s the snag: All sorts of nocturnal predators seem to have this thing about calamari sushi.

Light before flashlights

A long time ago, my ancestors evolved a nifty defense against their big teeth: stealth. Even their tiny squid brains figured out that predators could see them from below, as tasty dark blobs against the bright ocean surface.

Since this was before flashlights, my relatives had to improvise. So they press-ganged billions of luminescent bacteria into making light for them. The idea was to make us just as bright as the ocean surface — and hence invisible.

At least, this is how my great-aunt Tentacla tells it. To tell the truth, I think it had more to do with the evolutionary advantage of being hard to see.

Anyway, my ancestors fed the bacteria, and gave them a home in two specialized light-emitting organs. These “photophores” have a reflective membrane to shine all their light down, toward the hungry predators. They use a diaphragm to control brightness, and even have a lens to spread the light.

The photophore reminds me of a backwards eye — one that makes light rather than detects it.

My folks even figured out how to switch the bacteria “on” when needed.

In return, the bacteria got room and board, in the biological deal they call “symbiosis” or “mutualism.” Sometimes I think people could learn from this cooperative spirit….

But that’s enough thinking for today. My squid brain is squashed.

As I burrow into the sand for another daytime nap, permit me to introduce somebody who considers me almost as fascinating as I do.

Seriously speaking…

Margaret McFall-Ngai, a biologist at University of Wisconsin-Madison, says the bobtail squid may pretend it’s cooperating in a symbiosis with those light-making bacteria, but the reality is more ominous.

She says there’s evidence that this may be slavery, not symbiosis, since the squid, “inhibits the growth of the bacteria to enhance their luminescence.” The bacteria, Vibrio fischeri, could make a better living drifting in the ocean, or in the gut of another marine animal, McFall-Ngai observes.

The concept of bacterial enslavement broadens our perspective on the many possible relationships in the living world.

Most people, if they think about bacteria at all, conjure up disease and decay, but people would be dead without bacteria, since the little critters play essential roles in producing vitamins and preventing disease.

Since the bacteria in our guts vastly outnumber the cells in our bodies, it helps that they’re helpful!

Nevertheless, and for understandable reasons, bacteriologists have traditionally focused on disease-causing organisms, and, for simplicity, on one species at a time. But that skews our view of how bacteria actually live, says McFall-Ngai.

Three cheers for complexity!

Complexity and subtlety may be the hallmarks of these interactions, and the complexity begins by recognizing that V. fischeri is closely related to V. cholerae, which causes the human intestinal disease, cholera.

Cholera is caused by a V. cholera toxin similar to a toxin produced by the light-emitting bacterium. But far from harming the poor little bobtail, that toxin signals it to secrete food for V. fischeri, so the toxin is really a chemical “dinner bell.”

And this raises the intriguing notion that a cholera bug secretes toxins not to kill its host but to discuss its menu. If so, our whole notion of pathogenesis may need rewriting, McFall-Ngai suggests. “Maybe when we’ve been studying cholera pathogenesis we’ve been studying an aspect of a normal conversation that’s gone wrong.”

Indeed, the traditional bacteriological view of bacteria as pathogens to be studied in pure culture may be “like trying to understand the complexity of all the cultures that lived in Paris by studying the activity of the Nazi occupiers,” McFall-Ngai suggests. “You are studying groups that don’t belong there, and have disrupted the normal activities.”

Want more on how the flashlight squid bullies its bacterial brethren?

Between the grains

(1996 story, only photos have been updated)

To zoologist Robert Higgins, small is beautiful. His infatuation with small creatures — “meiofauna” — dates to a student job in a biology lab that paid 35 cents an hour. Instead of quitting for more lucrative work, Higgins was intrigued.

He’d heard about tiny, amazingly diverse creatures, and put grains of sand and muck through a fine mesh, and used a microscope to find hundreds of organisms.

Forty-four years later, Higgins has retired from the Smithsonian Institution, but he’s still goggling at meiofauna — a complex group of animals found in most Earthly environments.

Indeed, a handful of wet sand could contain more biological diversity than a whole rain forest, Higgins says.

In the course of peering through countless microscopes, Higgins has discovered hundreds of species. With Danish biologist Reinhardt Kristensen, he found an entire phylum, called Loricifera.

Phyla are the broadest categories of organisms, based on structure, and according to the International Association of Meiobenthologists, “The majority of recognized phyla have meiofaunal representatives. Currently, 20 phyla considered to be meiofaunal from the 34 recognized phyla of the Kingdom Animalia. Out of these 20 phyla, five are exclusively meiofaunal in size.”

Photo: Giulio Melone, department of biology, Milan University.

A bdelloid (a type of meiofauna) shrinks when it undergoes anhydrobiosis. The dormant, dehydrated bdelloid has greater resistance to environmental stress but is ready to spring back to the active form in conducive conditions.

Meiofauna living between grains of sand have made some fancy adaptations to their harsh environment. Some have hooks on their feet, used to grab the sand. Others have hooked mouthparts, also useful for locomotion.

Beyond freeze-dried

To survive a difficult environment, meiofauna called tartigrades have evolved an amazing adaptation called “anhydrobiosis.” In this form of suspended animation, the animals replace water in their cell membranes with sugar, protecting the membrane from destruction through radiation and freezing. Microorganisms die when their cell membrane ruptures.

During anhydrobiosis, organisms are rather like plant seeds or bacterial spores, Higgins explains. “They can dry up for 100 years, and be rewetted, and come right back to active metabolism.”

Fun is fun. But what is the practical importance of studying stuff that can hardly be seen, doesn’t seem to cause disease, and is — at least to some — utterly ugly?

In other word, who cares about microscopic beach crud?

Meet the beach-cleaning crew

Anybody who likes to hang on the sand should be interested, Higgins says. “This is the system that helps keep our beaches clean.” Plankton, bacteria, all sorts of dead material is continually washing ashore, and a lot of people love to sit on beaches.

There’s a public-health angle here. Hookworms occur on beaches where dogs defecate, but meiofauna may consume hookworms, along with other nematodes. “So if we upset that, we could upset beach cleanliness,” Higgins says.

Higgins notes that meiofauna comprise a basic part of the food web, and disturbing them could have unforeseen consequences for the entire system.

Still, it’s hard to escape the notion that most of the motivation here is the pure scientific urge to discover, to classify, to understand. Meiofauna, Higgins notes, were seen under the microscope Anton van Leeuwenhoek invented in 1683.

The key to finding these things, Higgins indicates, in patience, technology, curiosity — and institutional support. “If you stare through a microscope for hour after hour, you have a chance of finding these things, but if you need to get out a certain number of papers each year, you have to take shortcuts and you won’t find as much.”

Fantastic freak show

Humans and cats go way back. The relationship sprouted around 2000 BC in Egypt, where humans first domesticated felines. Today, more than 90 million cats in the United States alone enjoy the companionship of humans, while another estimated 90 million are stray or feral.

As in most relationships, there are still secrets between humans and their feline friends. But a recent study published in the Journal of Wildlife Management shed light on one secret that may have been nagging cat owners: what do outdoor cats, otherwise known as “free-roaming,” do all day?

Since there are several cat enthusiasts at The Why Files, we, too, wondered about the answer to that question. And the answer belies a few thorny predicaments peculiar to the cat-human relationship.

A day in the life of a free-roaming cat

Decked with radio collars that tracked their every move, 42 free-roaming cats (18 of them pets, 24 of them owner-less) were the stars of the two-year University of Illinois study. The researchers’ goals were to compare what owned versus un-owned cats did all day, where and how far they wandered, and how likely they were to survive in the often risky outdoors.

Certainly, to no cat owner’s surprise, the felines spent much of their time lounging or sleeping, just like their strictly-indoor counterparts. However, the amount of time pet cats versus owner-less cats spent snoozing differed significantly. Pet cats lazed about for 80 percent of their days, while un-owned cats loafed for “only” 62 percent of the time.

“That alone is very interesting. It could be associated with their requirements. It’s possible that the cats without owners have to spend more time looking for resources to take care of themselves,” speculated Nohra Mateus-Pinilla, study co-author and wildlife veterinary epidemiologist at the Illinois Natural History Survey.

Another important finding, according to Mateus-Pinilla, were the differences in the cats’ ranges. While, not surprisingly, un-owned cats roamed further afield than owned cats, Mateus-Pinilla and her co-authors were surprised by how far the stray cats strayed and by the diversity of habitats they skulked in, as compared to pet cats. While most of the pet cats stuck close to home, the most itinerant stray cat wandered around a 547-hectare (1,351-acre) area.

From original map by Jeff Horn

Despite range differences, un-owned and owned cats’ territories can overlap. The red outline shows the largest range tracked for an un-owned cat in the study, and the yellow dot indicates one pet cat’s range.

“Because of the large home range sizes in the evidence of both cats without ownership and cats that are owned, their home ranges are overlapping. And because of the mortality evidence, these animals could be facing a certain amount of risks that we are unable to measure,” said Mateus-Pinilla.

Indeed, the risks of being a free-range cat are much higher than those of indoor cats, and if the cat has no owner, its fate is almost always bleak. In their study, six stray cats died, while only one owned cat died.

Mateus-Pinilla said their study raises many new questions. To The Why Files, however, it seems that living in the company of humans has its advantages for cats. But keeping this relationship indoors may have advantages for wildlife and people too—-implications that drive the otherwise curious research on free-roaming cats.

Too many kitties on the range

While the indoor-outdoor debate lives on in the cat owner community, and regardless of whether or not cats enjoy the out-of-doors, their secret lives outside entail some dirty secrets that are alarming scientists and laypeople alike.

The sheer number of free-range cats, owned or not, has become a conservation and health concern, some scientists say. Like any species, too many can spell trouble.

Cats, by nature, are superb predators. A cat stalking a bird or squirrel is simply doing what cats do. However, their prowess as hunters, combined with their overpopulation, has wildlife biologists and enthusiasts biting their nails over the potential endangerment or extinction of some prey species.

“There are a growing number of landscapes in which free-ranging cats are not only the most abundant mid-sized mammalian predator, but they can outnumber all of the native mammalian mid-sized predators combined. So they really do become the dominant mid-sized predator in many landscapes,” said Stanley Temple, an emeritus professor of forest and wildlife ecology at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, who was among the first to study the ecological impacts of free-roaming cats.

Because of their impacts on both native predators and prey, conservation scientists consider free-roaming cats invasive species. While not the greatest threat to wildlife, they add to the increasingly complex web of existing threats.

Species most at risk of death-by-kitty are birds that spend a lot of time on the ground, small mammals and reptiles, according to Temple. In fact, cats are second to habitat destruction as the cause of bird extinction. Thirty-three bird species have met their fate to the paws of cats since the 1600s.

The world’s ever-shrinking “islands” of wildlife habitat are hotspots of conservation concern over free-roaming cat populations, since the native species in these areas are the hardest hit by invading cats. For example, birds that live in America’s dwindling grasslands or on the increasingly crowded seashore are finding themselves in a precarious situation.

Open and fragmented landscapes, which also include forest outskirts and farmland, are the territories of choice for cats. And, except in subtropical locales, they tend to stick close to humans. Even if un-owned, most cats are still dependent on people for either food or shelter, or both.

“They are remarkably resourceful at taking advantages of the opportunities that we present,” said Temple, who clarified that free-roaming cats are only truly “feral” if they are completely independent of humans.

Their dependency on humans highlights another dilemma: free-range cats can easily spread diseases and parasites that can jump from cat to cat, cat to wildlife, and even cat to human. The list of contagions includes feline leukemia, feline immunodeficiency virus, worms, rabies and toxoplasmosis, a parasite-caused disease that can damage the developing brains of unborn human babies, if their mothers are infected.

Free-roaming cats’ close proximity to both humans and other animals thus creates a potentially strong reservoir for these diseases. While vaccinating both owned and un-owned cats can help reduce the spread of disease, vaccines are not 100 percent effective and the logistics of vaccinating every single cat may be impossible, especially since many vaccinations are annual.

Photo: Rodrigo Basaure

These street cats certainly benefit from a human handout, but do humans benefit from the cats’ potential disease threat?

It’s complicated

Indeed, solutions to these predicaments aren’t easy. While the science may seem to imply that rounding up every cat on the range may be the best solution, the ubiquity of free-roaming cats and the emotions wrapped up in some people’s relationship with felines complicate the matter.

Studies suggest that many free-range cats are people’s beloved pets that are allowed outside, said Temple. But, while keeping every pet cat indoors would significantly and immediately cut the number of free-range cats, not every cat owner agrees that indoor life is best for kitty.

To further complicate things, one of the often promoted “humane” methods of attempting to reduce un-owned cat populations — trap, treat, neuter, release — repeatedly fails. Not only are there always the cats that get away, but releasing the cats back into the “wild” still does not eliminate the risks to wildlife.

Temple believes that for a cat-control method to work, three criteria must be met: the strategy must actually control cat numbers over large areas, it can’t harm any other part of the ecosystem, and it is socially acceptable. The last criteria can be the trickiest to meet and often creates tension between humans.

Photo: Flickr

Is this outdoor kitty taunting his indoor pal? But who has the better life?

“The divide over how to deal with cat overpopulation, in one way, can be simplified as the group of people who are really concerned about ecological impacts of cats versus those that are really concerned about the welfare of individual animals,” said Temple, based on his years of experience conducting public outreach on the issue. He clarified that he likes cats and is actually the owner of a 21-year-old feline.

Temple believes solutions that meet both factions on common ground do exist. Keeping pet cats inside and trapping, treating, neutering and confining un-owned, free-roaming cats are two strategies that meet his criteria. Though, for some people, it will take some convincing.

Mateus-Pinilla was careful to emphasize that their study did not seek to evaluate management options. They were focused on adding to the science and remaining neutral in the debate about solutions to the issue of free-roaming cats.

– Jenny Seifert

“If you go to any park or golf course in Madison, you have to watch where you step for all the goose poop,” Temple said.

You might want to watch where you point your jet engine, too, Temple says, lest it end up inhaling a goose.

Geese in Wisconsin are divided into two populations headed in different directions. The flocks of geese that breed in Canada and migrate through Wisconsin are not getting larger. In fact, their numbers have dwindled slightly in recent years.

It’s the geese that live and breed in Wisconsin year-round that are booming — up to 148,293, a 27 percent jump over 2008, according to the Department of Natural Resources.

The local geese have bounced back remarkably from historically low numbers that were held down — in part — by an early fall goose hunting season.

“It ended up putting a disproportionate amount of the hunting pressure on the locally breeding geese who spent all of the hunting season in state,” Temple says.

A successful effort by fans of the giant Canada goose (the species most often settling in Wisconsin year-round) to push back the hunting calendar turned shotguns on the migrating geese when they are far more active over Wisconsin than their local brethren.

An abundance of food has worked for the local geese, too. Modern no-till farming leaves waste grain above ground through the winter, and during the milder months geese are drawn to some of the same spots people enjoy.

“Turf farms and golf courses and parks are very welcoming places for geese,” Temple says.

And those attractive locations are generally near urban and suburban areas, where population control through hunting is not particularly welcome.