Charles Darwin was a DIY biologist. He was not a professor at a university; he was not a researcher at a government lab. As a young gentleman, he had the right connections to tag along on the voyage of HMS Beagle as an unofficial, unpaid naturalist. Once he came home, he spent most of his time at his country estate, where he ran decades of experiments on orchids and rabbits. He played a bassoon to earthworms to see if they sense low noises. He made painstaking observations on other species. He spent years peering through his personal microscope at barnacles. He spent afternoon following ants around his lawn. To add to his personal discoveries, he wrote to a global network of friends and acquaintances for every scrap of information he could find that seemed relevant to his theory. While Darwin took advantage of every tool a Victorian naturalist of means could get his hands on, they were quite simple compared to the equipment evolutionary biologists use today. No DNA sequencers or satellite databases for him.

Continue reading “Creating Young Darwins”

Valentene Peinhardt writes, “I wanted a tattoo that would embrace my love for astronomy and consciousness of being. I remember years ago realizing the fact that we were made of star stuff when I was watching an episode of Carl Sagan’s Cosmos series. Since then, my entire outlook on life has changed. Our ability to experience is so cherishable. I am not one of religion, but the feelings that I experience when I think about our origins, are not unlike spirituality.”

You can see the rest of the Science Tattoo Emporium here and in Science Ink: Tattoos of the Science Obsessed.

(Tattoo done by Steve Lemak of Quillian Tattoo in Allentown, PA.)

Originally published January 27, 2013. Copyright 2013 Carl Zimmer.

In 1996, while I was traveling in South Sudan, I visited a small hospital in Tambura. People there were sick in all sorts of ways–with malaria, sleeping sickness, and other illnesses–but one group of patients left an impression on me that I’ll never get rid of. They all stayed in a single, small narrow building. They lay on two rows of clean, thin mats on the floor. They were all clothed and were supremely bored. The men kept one pant leg rolled up to the knee. Exactly what sort of disease a sick person has can be mysterious–Is it stomach cancer? Is it HIV? It is mumps?–but there was no confusion in this room. All the patients had a short stick attached to their legs, seemingly tied by a string. That string was, in fact, an animal.

Its official name is Dracunculus medinensis. It’s commonly known the guinea worm. Measuring up to four feet long, the worms were lodged in the connective tissue inside the legs of the Tambura patients, their head poking out of a blister. The only way to get rid of the guinea worms was to wind them onto sticks, which nurses then twisted, slowly and steadily, for two weeks.

Continue reading “The Guinea Worm: A Fond Obituary”

In thirty years, Tasmanian devils may be gone from the face of the Earth. If they do vanish, they will be wiped out in a fashion unlike any other endangered species we know of. The marsupials have developed a cancer that acts like a parasite, jumping from host to host.

In today’s New York Times, I take a look at what scientists are now learning about this strange contagious tumor, and the desperate measures they’re going to in order to protect the species from its unique devastation.

[Image: Arthur Chapman, Flickr/Creative Commons]

Originally published January 22, 2013. Copyright 2013 Carl Zimmer.

Twenty eight years ago, the first coyotes arrived in Newfoundland. They had come a long way.

Up until the 1800s, coyotes lived mostly in the southwestern United States, and in low numbers in the Midwest. To the east and north, wolves shut them out of their forests. But when farmers and trappers exterminated wolves in much of North America, the coyotes began to expand their range. By the 1970s, they had reached the far corners of New England. In the winter of 1985, there were reports in Newfoundland of wolf-like animals traveling across the ice to the Port au Port Peninsula. In 1987, a car hit one of the animals, and it was confirmed to be a coyote pup. The coyotes had come about as far east as they possibly could.

Continue reading “Snow Coyotes and Spirit Bears”