Katrina van Grouw on Unnatural Selection

van GrouwIs Unnatural Selection all about domestication?

No, only Chapter 12, the final chapter, is about domestication. The rest of the book is about selective breeding, and the book as a whole is about evolution. Domestication is the process by which wild animal species are transformed into self-sustaining populations of tame ones (that’s not the same as simply taming individual animals). Selective breeding is what happens after that, as those domesticated populations are gradually honed into more useful, more productive, more beautiful, or simply different, varieties. As Darwin recognised, the process is uncannily similar to evolution by natural selection.

It’s about time someone made a book about selective breeding, to expose the awful things we do to animals.

Husband and I are animal-breeders ourselves, and many of the examples here are based on first-hand experience, so no—this book is NOT intended as a condemnation of selective breeding. Quite the reverse, in fact.

No-one would deny that there are practices that go against the interests of animal welfare, and I have discussed some of these in Unnatural Selection where I considered them relevant. There are, however, many emotive examples that are more complex and less black and white than public opinion would allow, and in these cases I’ve attempted to present a balanced explanation. Sadly, there’s also a public trend for the condemnation of many harmless and interesting traits in domesticated animals simply because they’re unusual.

This book is about evolution, and one of the central messages here is that these traits can, and do, occur in all animals—wild and domesticated—and might be favoured under certain environmental circumstances, of which domestication is only one. Like Darwin, I find this subject fascinating, and have endeavoured to present it in an objective way as just one more marvellous facet of evolutionary biology.

I’m not really that interested in domesticated animals. They’re just man-made freaks, aren’t they?

If you think about it, there are some pretty ‘freakish’ wild animals too—animals with short limbs, giants, dwarves, animals with an up- or down-curved jaws; there have even been wingless birds.  And all these animals, wild and domesticated, came to exist in exactly the same way: by gradual selection on naturally-occurring mutations. The only difference is that in the case of wild animals these traits flourished in a natural environment, and with domesticated animals they were favoured by their human custodians and evolved considerably faster. The variations themselves are equally likely to occur in either environment. All diversity on the planet is a result of mutation; just heritable copying errors in DNA replication. I like to think of unusual traits in domesticated animals in terms of speculative zoology—as a way of revealing what forms wild animals might have taken if their evolutionary history had taken a slightly different turn.   

What has selective breeding got to do with evolution – it’s hardly survival of the fittest, is it?

It has many things to do with evolution; at many levels. Darwin used selective breeding as an analogy for natural selection in nature, and it follows precisely the same formula: random heritable variation + non-random selection = evolution. In other words, breeders produce more animals than they will use to breed from; every individual is different, so they select the ones they wish to pass on their traits to the next generation, gradually resulting in the chosen trait becoming more extreme, or more plentiful in the population. The only difference between natural and artificial selection is that the choice is a conscious one allowing breeders to use their knowledge of inheritance to plan several generations ahead. What I find particularly fascinating is that artificial selection has precise parallels with some of the more fast-acting facets of evolution in nature, like sexual selection or ‘arms race’ runaway selection. At another level, however, you can argue that even human environments are environments in nature, so the process isn’t only analogous with evolution—it’s evolution in itself.

Incidentally, ‘survival of the fittest’ is a very misleading expression and has nothing to do with physical fitness or strength. Evolutionary fitness means ‘best fitted’ for an environment. And the measure of that is purely in terms of how many viable offspring an animal manages to produce. So in the environment of a middle class family home a toy dog breed with a short muzzle would be considerably ‘better fitted’ than a wolf!

I loved The Unfeathered Bird. I suppose Unnatural Selection will be a collection of anatomical drawings of domesticated animals?

I started Unnatural Selection with that intention. However, it very quickly began to evolve into something much more interesting. Selective breeding can result in many variations from the wild type of animals—not just in skull shape and posture but in fur and feather type and especially in colour (I think the sections about colour are some of the best in the book). I also thought it important to show the external appearance of many of the breeds that I talk about, as these are probably much less familiar and much more changeable over time, than species of wild animal and birds. The result is a visually exciting mixture of drawings of live animals and their anatomy that communicate the message more effectively than could skeletons alone.

Did you always want to be an artist?

Absolutely not! Unfortunately I was so prodigiously good at drawing as a child that my teachers actively discouraged me from developing my real passion—for natural history. Every so often I rebelled and turned back to biology only to find that I was less and less qualified to pursue a course of formal study in science. Most universities wouldn’t accept anyone without the right A Level subjects. I only finally attended art school because there was simply nothing else I could do. And after that I assumed I had to make my living from producing and selling pictures. It’s a long story that really deserves to be told in a book of its own.

To be honest, nowadays I prefer to think of myself as an author rather than an artist. The drawings I do now are illustrations for the books, and are not produced for their own sake. It’s the collective work of science that’s become the work of art.

I don’t really like domesticated animals; do you have any plans to do a book about the anatomy of wild animals?

As it happens I do—eventually. But I have quite a lot to do before I begin that, and distant plans have a way of evolving and changing over time. But Unnatural Selection really is all about animals in general, not just domesticated ones, and anyone interested in wild animals should find it very useful. It’s not just about anatomy, you see—it’s about the way evolution works, and that applies to everything.

Will Unnatural Selection be an art book, like The Unfeathered Bird?

If you mean will it be large format, richly illustrated, and beautiful to look at, then the answer is yes. However, I don’t consider either to be an art book. Both have science—evolution and adaptation—as their central subject and although the science is presented in an accessible way, it’s not dumbed down in the slightest. The illustrations are created for the books; not the other way around. The take-home message is that it’s possible to combine art and science without compromising either.

Which skeletons did you prepare yourselves, and how did you prepare them?

Most of the dogs, all of the cats, the rabbit, and all of the birds were prepared at home by Husband specifically for Unnatural Selection. The birds needed to be mounted in the particular show posture (including historical show postures) for each breed, so these really required a high degree of specialist expertise which Husband has. There’s probably no-one else in the world who could have done these. Fortunately I managed to find all the specimens of large livestock I needed already prepared so we didn’t have to do this at home.

Lots of people assume that articulating skeletons is easy. It isn’t. Ours are set up using a combination of wire and glue. It’s very time consuming and each skeleton takes weeks to do. The hardest part is getting the posture correct, and this requires an intimate knowledge of the animal in life. Then there’s the cleaning, and the de-greasing and bleaching of the bones. You have to be careful to get the ribs and vertebrae in the right order, and not to get the bones of the toes and fingers muddled up. I’ve seen far, far more incorrect skeletons than correct ones. So unless you want to devote a huge amount of time to getting it right, if you want a skeleton of your own my advice would be to pay a professional to do it for you. And if your mind is set on learning to do it yourself, you’ll find plenty of online sources. Different preparators have developed techniques of their own, so finding your own way is a matter of trial and error. As the saying goes: there more than one way to skin a cat!

You worked at the British Natural History Museum. That must have been really useful for drawing all those skeletons.

Actually no. My job had nothing to do with art. I was a curator of the bird skin collections (the equivalent to a collections manager in US museums) and my job involved sourcing and preparing specimens, looking after the collections, overseeing scientific visitors, data entry, answering bird-related enquiries, and the occasional bit of public engagement. I kept my day job and my personal interests entirely separate and never drew a single specimen in the seven years that I worked there. I finally left the museum when a senior manager forbade me to write or illustrate bird-related books in my spare time, as this was never in my contract and I wouldn’t abandon my plans for The Unfeathered Bird.

How did you get to be producing books like Unnatural Selection and The Unfeathered Bird – what course of study would you recommend to someone interested in art and science?

It was a long and convoluted journey and nothing in my employment history or education really made that much of a contribution to what I’ve ended up doing, though, looking back, the collective experiences add up and seem to make sense. The things that really make a difference are passion, determination and integrity. Every individual path is different, and no-one has the right to point anyone else in a specific direction. I would recommend following your passion, and listening to your instincts.

What medium do you use to do the pictures?

The illustrations are all drawn in pencil. Just a normal 2B or B grade, though I find that a harder grade works better for drawing teeth. I then scan the drawings and adjust the levels and colour digitally afterward.

Why do you draw skeletons?

Actually I prefer to think of it as anatomical drawing, and I began doing it – directly from dead specimens that I dissected myself – as a way of understanding the anatomy of birds so that my pictures of living birds would benefit from it. I draw them now purely as illustrations for my books, to communicate a point I want to make. The books are not collections of skeletal art – they’re illustrated science books that I approach in such a way that ticks all the boxes for me intellectually and creatively. I no longer consider myself an artist in terms of picture-making, and if I did, I would almost certainly notbe drawing skeletons.

You’ve hinted in the book that natural selection is a difficult concept to accept. Is this because you believe that Darwinian evolution excludes the existence of God?

It is, and I do, though unlike some evolutionists I don’t wield my atheism like a spear. I’ve spent a great deal of my life thinking very carefully about natural selection and its wider implications, and was devastated when it led me to the conclusion, about 20 years ago, that I could no longer support any personal belief in a deity. However, whether we see natural selection as a meaningless struggle for existence or something miraculous depends on our individual viewpoint. I certainly recognise it as the latter, which for me is as spiritual and profound an experience as any belief in God.     

Do you make a living from doing books?

I prefer to think about my books as my life rather than my living. I work on them all day every day seven days a week, I dream about them at night, and put them before everything else; there’s nothing I wouldn’t do or sacrifice for them. Ironically, if I considered my books a job or a business, I wouldn’t be able to justify giving them so much time. Like all authors I rely on people buying books new, requesting books from libraries, paying to use material instead of downloading it for free, and being willing to pay for my time. No non-fiction author is in it for the money and when producing a book takes 5 or 6 years of full-time work, it’s very difficult indeed to earn a consistent income from it.

 

Katrina van Grouw, author of The Unfeathered Bird (Princeton), inhabits that no-man’s-land midway between art and science. She holds degrees in fine art and natural history illustration and is a former curator of ornithological collections at a major national museum. She’s a self-taught scientist with a passion for evolutionary biology and its history.

Michael J. Ryan: A Taste for the Beautiful

Darwin developed the theory of sexual selection to explain why the animal world abounds in stunning beauty, from the brilliant colors of butterflies and fishes to the songs of birds and frogs. He argued that animals have “a taste for the beautiful” that drives their potential mates to evolve features that make them more sexually attractive and reproductively successful. But if Darwin explained why sexual beauty evolved in animals, he struggled to understand how. In A Taste for the Beautiful, Michael Ryan, one of the world’s leading authorities on animal behavior, tells the remarkable story of how he and other scientists have taken up where Darwin left off and transformed our understanding of sexual selection, shedding new light on human behavior in the process. Vividly written and filled with fascinating stories, A Taste for the Beautiful will change how you think about beauty and attraction. Read on to learn more about the evolution of beauty, why the sight of a peacock’s tail made Darwin sick, and why males tend to be the more “beautiful” in the animal kingdom.

What made you interested in the evolution of beauty?

For my Masters degree I was studying how male bullfrog set up and defend territories. They have a pretty imposing call that has been described as ‘jug-a-rum;’ it is used to repel neighboring males and to attract females. In those days it was thought that animal sexual displays functioned only to identify the species of the signaler. For example, in the pond where I worked you could easily tell the difference between bullfrogs, leopard frogs, green frogs, and spring peepers by listening to their calls. Females do the same so they can end up mating with the correct species. Variation among the calls within a species was thought of to be just noise, random variation that had little meaning to the females.

But sitting in this swamp night after night I was able to tell individual bullfrogs apart from one another and got used to seeing the same males with the loudest deepest calls in the same parts of the pond. I began to wonder that if I could hear these differences could the female bullfrogs, and could females decide who to mate with based on the male’s call? And also, if some calls sounded more beautiful to me, did female frogs share with me the same aesthetic?

I never got to answer these questions with the bullfrogs but I decided to pursue this general question when I started at Cornell University to work on my PhD degree.

Why did Darwin say that the sight of the peacock’s tail, an iconic example of sexual beauty, made him sick?

Darwin suffered all kinds of physical maladies, some probably brought on by his contraction of Chagas disease during his voyage on the Beagle. But this malady induced by the peacock’s tail probably resulted from cognitive dissonance. He had formulated a theory, natural selection, in which he was able to explain how animals evolve adaptations for survival. Alfred Russel Wallace developed a very similar theory. All seemed right with the world, at least for a while.

But then Darwin pointed out that many animal traits seem to hinder rather than promote survival. These included bright plumage and complex song in birds, flashing of fireflies, male fishes with swords, and of course the peacock with its magnificently long tail. All of these traits presented challenges to his theory of natural selection and the general idea of survival of the fittest. These sexy traits are ubiquitous throughout the animal kingdom but seem to harm rather than promote survival.

Sexual selection is Darwin’s theory that predicts the evolution of sexual beauty. How is this different from Darwin’s theory of natural selection?

The big difference between these two theories is that one focuses on survivorship while the other focuses on mating success. Both are important for promoting evolution, the disproportionate passage of genes from one generation to the next. An animal that survives for a long period of time but never reproduces is in a sense genetically dead. Animals that are extremely attractive but do not live long enough to reproduce also are at a genetic dead-end. It is the proper mix of survivorship and attractiveness that is most favored by selection. But the important point to realize is that natural selection and sexual selection are often opposed to one another; natural selection for example, favoring shorter tails in peacocks and sexual selection favoring longer tails. What the bird ends up with is a compromise between these two opposing selection forces.

In most of evolutionary biology the emphasis is still more on survival than mating success. But sometimes I think that surviving is just nature’s clever trick to keep individuals around long enough so that they can reproduce.

Why is it that in many animals the males are the more beautiful sex?

In most animals there are many differences between males and females. But what is the defining character? What makes a male a male and a female a female? It is not the way they act, the way they look, the way they behave. It is not even defined by the individual’s sex organs, penis versus vagina in many types of animals.

The defining characteristic of the sexes is gamete size. Males have many small gametes and females have fewer large gametes.  The maximum number of offspring that an animal can sire will be limited by the number of gametes. Therefore, males could potentially father many more offspring than a female could mother.

But of course males need females to reproduce. So this sets up competition where the many gametes of the males are competing to hook up with the fewer gametes of the females. Thus in many species males are under selection to mate often, they will never run out of gametes, while females are under selection to mate carefully and make good use of the fewer gametes they have. Thus males are competing for females, either through direct combat or by making themselves attractive to females, and females decide which males get to mate. The latter is the topic of this book.

Why is sexual beauty so dangerous?

The first step in communication is being noticed, standing out against the background. This is true whether animals communicate with sound, vision, or smells. It is especially true for sexual communication. The bind that males face is they need to make themselves conspicuous to females but their communication channel is not private, it is open to exploitation by eavesdroppers. These eavesdroppers can make a quick meal out of a sexually advertising male. One famous example, described in this book, involves the túngara frog and its nemesis, the frog-eating bat. Male túngara frogs add syllables, chucks, to their calls to increase their attractiveness to females. But it also makes them more attractive to bats, so when these males become more attractive they also become more likely to become a meal rather than a mate.

The túngara frog is only one example of the survival cost of attractive traits. When crickets call, for example, they can attract a parasitic fly. The fly lands on the calling male and her larvae crawl off of her onto the calling cricket. The larvae then burrow deep inside the cricket where they will develop. As they develop they eat the male from the inside out, and their first meal is the male’s singing muscle. This mutes the male so he will not attract other flies who would deposit their larvae on the male who would then become competitors.

Another cost of being attractive is tied up with the immune system. Many of the elaborate sexual traits of males develop in response to high levels of testosterone. Testosterone can have a negative effect on the immune system. So as males experience higher testosterone levels that might produce more attractive ornaments, but these males are paying the cost with their ability to resist disease.

How did you come to discover that frog eating bats are attracted to the calls of túngara frogs?

The credit for this initial discovery goes to Merlin Tuttle. Merlin is a well-known bat biologist and he was on BCI the year before I was. He captured a bat with a frog in its mouth. Merlin wondered how common this behavior was and whether the bats could hear the calls of the frogs and use those calls to find the frogs.

When Stan Rand and I discovered that túngara frogs become more attractive when they add chucks to their calls, we wondered why they didn’t produce chucks all the time. We were both convinced that there were some cost of producing chucks and we both thought it was likely the ultimate cost imposed by a predator.

Merlin contacted Stan about collaborating on research with the frog-eating bat and frog calls, and Stan then introduced Merlin to me. The rest is history as this research has blossomed into a major research program for a number of people.

Is beauty really in the eye of the beholder?

Yes, but it is also in the ears, the noses, the toes and any other sense organ recruited to check out potential mates. All of these sense organs forward information to the brain where judgements about beauty are made. So it is more accurate to say beauty is in the brain of the beholder. It might be true that the brain is our most important sex organ, but the brain has other things on its mind besides sex. It evolves under selection to perform a number of functions, and adaptations in one function can lead to unintended consequences for another function. For example, studies of some fish show that the color sensitivity of the eyes evolves to facilitate the fish’s ability to find its prey. Once this happens though, males evolve courtship colors to which their females’ eyes are particularly sensitive. This is called sensory exploitation.

A corollary of ‘beauty is in the brain of the beholder’ is that choosers, usually females, define what is beautiful. Females are not under selection to find out which males are attractive, by determining which males are attractive. They are in the driver’s seat when it comes to the evolution of beauty.

What is sensory exploitation?

We have probably all envisioned the perfect sexual partner. And in many cases those visions do not exist in reality. In a sense, the same might be true in animals. Females can have preferences for traits that do not exist. Or at least do not yet exist. When males evolve traits that elicit these otherwise hidden preferences this is called sensory exploitation. We can think of the evolution of sexual beauty as evolutionary attempts to probe the ‘preference landscape’ of the female. When a trait matches one of these previously unexpressed preferences, the male trait is immediately favored by sexual selection because it increases his mating success.

A good example of this occurs in a fish called the swordtail. In these fishes males have sword-like appendages protruding from their tails. Female swordtails prefer males with swords to those without swords, and males with longer swords to males with shorter swords. Swordtails are related to platyfish, the sword of swordtails evolved after the platyfish and swordtails split off from one another thousands of years ago. But when researchers attach a plastic sword to a male platyfish he becomes more attractive to female platyfish. These females have never seen a sworded male but they have a preference for that trait nonetheless. Thus it appears that when the first male swordtail evolved a sword the females already had a preference for this trait.

Do the girls really get prettier at closing time, as Mickey Gilly once sang?

They sure do, and so do the boys. A study showed that both men and women in a bar perceive members of the opposite sex as more attractive as closing time approaches. This classic study was repeated in Australia where they measured blood alcohol levels and showed that the ‘closing time’ effect was not only due to drinking but to the closing time of the bar.

The interpretation is of these results is that if an individual wants to go home with a member of the opposite sex but none of the individuals meet her or his expectations of beauty, the individual has two choices. They can lower their standards of beauty or they can deceive themselves and perceive the same individuals as more attractive. They seem to do the latter.

Although we do not know what goes on in an animal’s head, they show a similar pattern of behavior. Guppies and roaches are much more permissive in accepting otherwise unattractive mates as they get closer to the ultimate closing time, the end of their lives. In a similar example, early in the night female túngara frogs will reject certain calls that are usually unattractive, but later in the night when females become desperate to find a mate they become more than willing to be attracted to these same calls.  It is also noteworthy that middle-aged women think about sex more and have sex more often than do younger women.

Deception seems to be widespread in human courtship. What about animals?

Males have a number of tricks to deceive females for the purpose of mating. One example involves moths in which males make clicking sounds to court females. When males string together these clicks in rapid succession it sounds like the ‘feeding buzz’ of a bat, the sound a bat makes as it zeros in on its prey. At least this is what the female moths think. When they hear these clicks they freeze and the male moth is then able to mount the female and mate with her with little resistance as she appears to be scared to death, not of the male moth but of what she thinks is a bat homing in on her for the kill.

Other animals imitate food to drive female’s attention. Male mites beat their legs on the water surface imitating vibrations caused by copepods, the main source of food for the water mites. When females approach the source of these were vibrations they find a potential mate rather than a potential meal.

What about peer pressure? We know this plays a role in human in interactions, and the influence our perceptions of beauty? What about animals, can they be subjected to peer pressure?

Suppose a woman looks at my picture and is told rate my attractiveness on the scale of 1 to 10. Another woman is asked to do the same but in this picture I am standing next to an attractive woman. Almost certainly I will get a higher score the second time; my attractiveness increases although nothing about my looks have changed, only that I was consorting with a good-looking person.  This is referred to as mate choice and it is widespread in the animal kingdom.

Mate choice copying was first experimentally demonstrated in guppies. Female guppies prefer males who have more orange over those who have less orange. In a classic experiment, females were given a choice between a more than a less colorful male. They preferred the more colorful male and then were returned to the center of the tank for another experiment. In this instance they saw the less colorful and less preferred male courting a female. That female was removed and the test female was tested for her preference for the same two males once again. Now the female changes her preference and prefers what previously had been the less preferred male. She too seems to be employing mate choice copying.

Many animals learn by observing others. Mate choice copying seems to be a type of observational learning that is common in many animals in many domains. It might suggest that we be careful with whom we hang out.

What is the link between sexual attraction in animals and pornography in humans?

Animal sexual beauty is often characterized by being extreme: long tails, complex songs, brilliant colors, and outrageous dances. The same is often true of sexual beauty in humans. Female supermodels, for example, tend to be much longer and thinner than most other women in the population, male supermodels are super-buff—hardly normal. Furthermore, in animals we can create sexual traits that are more extreme than what exists in males of the population, and in experiments females often prefer these artificially exaggerated traits, such as: even longer tales, more complex songs, and more brilliant colors than exhibited by their own males. These are called supernormal stimuli. Pornography also creates supernormal stimuli not only in showcasing individuals with extreme traits but also in creating social settings that hardly exist in most societies, this manufactured social setting is sometimes referred to as Pornotopia.

RyanMichael J. Ryan is the Clark Hubbs Regents Professor in Zoology at the University of Texas and a Senior Research Associate at the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute in Panama. He is a leading researcher in the fields of sexual selection, mate choice, and animal communication. He lives in Austin, Texas.

 

Anurag Agrawal: Monarch butterflies—out of sight, but not out of mind!

By Anurag Agrawal

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The annual migratory calendar for monarch butterflies in eastern North America.

As winter approaches, monarch butterflies are not in sight for most Americans. Beginning in the fall, hundreds of millions of butterflies east of the Rocky Mountains oriented south and began their migration. And indeed the story of how they navigate is truly remarkable: the little insect uses a sun compass that is adjustable depending on the time of day to find its way. Details of the migration and much more are in Monarchs and Milkweed: A Migrating Butterfly, a Poisonous Plant, and their Remarkable Story of Coevolution. And 2017 was a spectacular fall season for monarch butterflies. As far as most monarch biologists can remember, this was perhaps the biggest summer season on record, with monarchs in epic numbers congregating and flying south.

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Southward migrating monarchs in Ontario during autumn. Although monarchs are usually dispersed in the summer, as the fall migration takes hold, butterflies congregate in larger clusters.

As the holiday season approaches, it is useful to keep in to keep in mind where monarchs are and what they are doing.  Cool and concentrated, they huddle en masse for nearly five months.  Will the numbers of butterflies overwintering in Mexico this year show a rebound from their precipitous decline?  If the migration was successful, yes, we all expect (hope!) the numbers to be up.  But only time will tell, as the official numbers are typically announced each February by World Wildlife Fund Mexico.  The monitoring of these unimaginable aggregations of butterflies has been a critical piece in the conservation puzzle for monarchs.

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The state license plate in Michoacán State, Mexico.

In November around the Day of the Dead and leading to American Thanksgiving, monarchs arrive to their overwintering grounds in the highlands Michoacán, Mexico. And legend has it that the butterflies are the returning souls of loved ones. They form clusters that are so dense, they weigh down the Oyamel Fir trees they inhabit above 10,000 feet of elevation in these exquisite sites. The sites are terribly small, with all of them fitting into area smaller than New York City.

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A congregation of monarchs within the Monarch Butterfly Biosphere Reserve, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Most wings are closed, but look for the orange spots of open butterfly wings.

But before 1975, there was no conservation conversation about monarchs, because scientists simply did not know where monarchs went in the winter (of course native Mexicans of the region have known for centuries).  More importantly, we didn’t know how restricted and sensitive their overwintering sites are. The story of how the monarchs were found is too lengthy to recount here, but it is an astonishing story. In short, Professor Urquhart from the University of Toronto was hot on the trail, and knew that they flew south into Mexico during the fall.  Nora and Fred Urquhart marshaled a citizen science campaign that included a massive effort to engage folks far and wide in the search for the overwintering grounds.  In fact, in 1973, they wrote an article in an English language newspaper in Mexico City requesting help in finding the monarch overwintering sites.

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I obtained this reproduction of the original article outlining monarch butterfly biology and requesting help finding the overwintering grounds from the Library of Congress. It came on microfiche and was a treasure to hold and read.

Still, it was another two years before the overwintering colonies were found and reported to the world. After thirty years of tagging butterflies, enlisting thousands of citizen scientists, and much speculation, shortly after new year’s day in January 1975, the great discovery was made. The Urquharts wrote to their thousands of volunteers: “We now wish to announce to our associates, that, after these many years of intensive study, after having tagged thousands of migrants, we have, finally located the exact area where they overwinter, with the very able assistance of Ken Brugger and Cathy Brugger of Mexico City”. And the rest is history.

Anurag Agrawal is a professor in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology and the Department of Entomology at Cornell University. He lives in Ithaca, New York.

Agrawal

Anurag Agrawal: Needing and eating the milkweed

AgrawalU.S. agriculture is based on ideas that make me scratch my head. We typically grow plants that are not native to North America, we grow them as annuals, and we usually only care about one product from the crop, like the tomatoes that give us ketchup and pizza.

And we don’t like weeds. Why would we? They take resources away from our crops, reduce yields more than insect pests or disease, they’re hard to get rid of, and they might give you a rash. But there are few plants more useful, easy to cultivate, and environmentally friendly than the milkweed. The milkweed takes its ill name from the sticky rubbery latex that oozes out when you break the leaves, it’s the monarch butterflies only food, and it is a native meadow plant. Milkweed has sometimes received a bad rep, and perhaps for good reason; they can be poisonous to livestock, they are hard to get rid of, and they do reduce crop yields. But what about milkweed as a crop?

AgrawalThomas Edison showed that milkweed’s milky latex could be used to make rubber. The oil pressed from the seed has industrial applications as a lubricant, and even value in the kitchen and as a skin balm. And as a specialty item, acclaimed for its hypoallergenic fibers, milkweed’s seed fluff that carries milkweed seeds in the wind, is being used to stuff pillows and blankets. Perhaps more surprising, the same fluff is highly absorbent of oils, and is now being sold in kits to clean up oil tanker spills. The fibers from milkweed stems make excellent rope and were used by Native Americans for centuries. More than two hundred years ago, the French were using American milkweed fibers Agrawalto make beautiful cloths, said to be more radiant and velvety than fine silk. And chemically, milkweeds were used medicinally by Native Americans since the dawn of civilization, with a potential for use in modern medicine.  This is a diverse plant with a lot to offer.  Why wouldn’t we cultivate this plant, not only for its stem fibers, seed oils, pillowy fluff, rubbery latex, and medicines, but also in support of the dwindling populations of monarch butterflies?

Ever since the four lowest years of monarch butterfly populations between 2012 and 2015, planting milkweeds for monarchs has been on the tips of a lot of tongues. For most insects that eat plants, however, their populations are not limited by the availability of leaves.  Instead, their predators typically keep them in check, or as in the case of monarchs, there may be constraints Agrawalduring other parts of their annual cycle. Monarchs travel through vast expanses from Mexico to Canada, tasting their way as they go. They tolerate poisons in the milkweed plant; indeed, they are dependent on milkweed as their only food source as a caterpillar. Nearly all mating, egg-laying, and milkweed-eating occurs in the United States and Canada. And each autumn monarchs travel to Mexico, some 3,000 miles, fueled only by water and flower nectar.

All parts of the monarch’s unfathomable annual migratory cycle should be observed and studied. My own research has suggested that habitat destruction in the U.S., lack of flower resources, and logging at the overwintering sites in central Mexico are all contributing to the decline of monarch butterflies. Lack of milkweed does not seem to be causing the decline of monarchs. Nonetheless, planting native milkweeds can only help the cause of conserving monarch butterflies, but it is not the only answer. And of course we humans need our corn and soy, and we love our broccoli and strawberries, so is cultivating milkweed really something to consider?

We humans, with our highly sensitive pallets, do the one thing that monarch butterflies don’t do. We cook. And the invention of cooking foods has been deemed one of the greatest advances in human evolution. Cooking certainly reduces the time spent chewing and digesting, and perhaps more importantly, cooking opens up much of the botanical world for human consumption, because heat can break down plant poisons.

AgrawalEuell Gibbons, the famed proponent of wild plant edibles in the 1970s, was a huge advocate of eating milkweed. The shoots of new stems of the eastern “common milkweed” are my personal favorite. I simply pull them up when they are about 6-8 inches tall and eat them like asparagus. Gibbons recommended pouring boiling water over the vegetables in a pot, then heating only to regain the boil, and pouring off the water before sautéing. You can pick several times and the shoots keep coming. With some preparation, the other parts of the milkweed plant can be eaten too, and enjoyed like spinach, broccoli, and okra.

At the end of summer, many insects have enjoyed the benefits of eating milkweed, especially the monarch butterfly. Any boost we could give to the monarch population may help use preserve it in perpetuity. But the real value in cultivating milkweed as a crop is that it has a lot to offer, from medicines to fibers to oils. It is native and perennial, and can be grown locally and abundantly.  Let’s give this weed a chance.

Anurag Agrawal is a professor in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology and the Department of Entomology at Cornell University. He is the author of Monarchs and Milkweed: A Migrating Butterfly, a Poisonous Plant, and Their Remarkable Story of Coevolution.

Agrawal

Peter Ungar: It’s not that your teeth are too big: your jaw is too small

We hold in our mouths the legacy of our evolution. We rarely consider just how amazing our teeth are. They break food without themselves being broken, up to millions of times over the course of a lifetime; and they do it built from the very same raw materials as the foods they are breaking. Nature is truly an inspired engineer.

But our teeth are, at the same time, really messed up. Think about it. Do you have impacted wisdom teeth? Are your lower front teeth crooked or out of line? Do your uppers jut out over your lowers? Nearly all of us have to say ‘yes’ to at least one of these questions, unless we’ve had dental work. It’s as if our teeth are too big to fit properly in our jaws, and there isn’t enough room in the back or front for them all. It just doesn’t make sense that such an otherwise well-designed system would be so ill-fitting.

Other animals tend to have perfectly aligned teeth. Our distant hominin ancestors did too; and so do the few remaining peoples today who live a traditional hunting and gathering lifestyle. I am a dental anthropologist at the University of Arkansas, and I work with the Hadza foragers of Africa’s great rift valley in Tanzania. The first thing you notice when you look into a Hadza mouth is that they’ve got a lot of teeth. Most have 20 back teeth, whereas the rest of us tend to have 16 erupted and working. Hadza also typically have a tip-to-tip bite between the upper and lower front teeth; and the edges of their lowers align to form a perfect, flawless arch. In other words, the sizes of Hadza teeth and jaws match perfectly. The same goes for our fossil forebears and for our nearest living relatives, the monkeys and apes.

So why don’t our teeth fit properly in the jaw? The short answer is not that our teeth are too large, but that our jaws are too small to fit them in. Let me explain. Human teeth are covered with a hard cap of enamel that forms from the inside out. The cells that make the cap move outward toward the eventual surface as the tooth forms, leaving a trail of enamel behind. If you’ve ever wondered why your teeth can’t grow or repair themselves when they break or develop cavities, it’s because the cells that make enamel die and are shed when a tooth erupts. So the sizes and shapes of our teeth are genetically pre-programmed. They cannot change in response to conditions in the mouth.

But the jaw is a different story. Its size depends both on genetics and environment; and it grows longer with heavy use, particularly during childhood, because of the way bone responds to stress. The evolutionary biologist Daniel Lieberman at Harvard University conducted an elegant study in 2004 on hyraxes fed soft, cooked foods and tough, raw foods. Higher chewing strains resulted in more growth in the bone that anchors the teeth. He showed that the ultimate length of a jaw depends on the stress put on it during chewing.

Selection for jaw length is based on the growth expected, given a hard or tough diet. In this way, diet determines how well jaw length matches tooth size. It is a fine balancing act, and our species has had 200,000 years to get it right. The problem for us is that, for most of that time, our ancestors didn’t feed their children the kind of mush we feed ours today. Our teeth don’t fit because they evolved instead to match the longer jaw that would develop in a more challenging strain environment. Ours are too short because we don’t give them the workout nature expects us to.

There’s plenty of evidence for this. The dental anthropologist Robert Corruccini at Southern Illinois University has seen the effects by comparing urban dwellers and rural peoples in and around the city of Chandigarh in north India – soft breads and mashed lentils on the one hand, coarse millet and tough vegetables on the other. He has also seen it from one generation to the next in the Pima peoples of Arizona, following the opening of a commercial food-processing facility on the reservation. Diet makes a huge difference. I remember asking my wife not to cut our daughters’ meat into such small pieces when they were young. ‘Let them chew,’ I begged. She replied that she’d rather pay for braces than have them choke. I lost that argument.

Crowded, crooked, misaligned and impacted teeth are huge problems that have clear aesthetic consequences, but can also affect chewing and lead to decay. Half us could benefit from orthodontic treatment. Those treatments often involve pulling out or carving down teeth to match tooth row with jaw length. But does this approach really make sense from an evolutionary perspective? Some clinicians think not. And one of my colleagues at Arkansas, the bioarchaeologist Jerry Rose, has joined forces with the local orthodontist Richard Roblee with this very question in mind. Their recommendation? That clinicians should focus more on growing jaws, especially for children. For adults, surgical options for stimulating bone growth are gaining momentum, too, and can lead to shorter treatment times.

As a final thought, tooth crowding isn’t the only problem that comes from a shorter jaw. Sleep apnea is another. A smaller mouth means less space for the tongue, so it can fall back more easily into the throat during sleep, potentially blocking the airway. It should come as no surprise that appliances and even surgery to pull the jaw forward are gaining traction in treating obstructive sleep apnea.

For better and for worse, we hold in our mouths the legacy of our evolution. We might be stuck with an oral environment that our ancestors never had to contend with, but recognising this can help us deal with it in better ways. Think about that the next time you smile and look in a mirror.

Evolution’s Bite: A Story of Teeth, Diet, and Human Origins by Peter Ungar is out now through Princeton University Press.Aeon counter – do not remove

UngarPeter S. Ungar is Distinguished Professor and director of the Environmental Dynamics Program at the University of Arkansas. He is the author of Evolution’s Bite: A Story of Teeth, Diet, and Human Origins, Teeth: A Very Short Introduction and Mammal Teeth: Origin, Evolution, and Diversity and the editor of Evolution of the Human Diet: The Known, the Unknown, and the Unknowable. He lives in Fayetteville, Arkansas.

This article was originally published at Aeon and has been republished under Creative Commons.

Peter Ungar on Evolution’s Bite

UngarWe carry in our mouths the legacy of our evolution. Our teeth are like living fossils that can be studied and compared to those of our ancestors to teach us how we became human. In Evolution’s Bite, noted paleoanthropologist Peter Ungar brings together for the first time cutting-edge advances in understanding human evolution and climate change with new approaches to uncovering dietary clues from fossil teeth to present a remarkable investigation into the ways that teeth—their shape, chemistry, and wear—reveal how we came to be. Ungar recently took the time to answer some questions about his new book.

Why do paleontologists care so much about teeth? What makes them so special?

PSU: Paleontologists care about teeth because oftentimes, that’s all we’ve got of extinct species to work out details of life in the past. Teeth are essentially ‘ready-made fossils,’ about 96% mineral, so they survive the ages much better than other parts of the body. They are special because they come into direct contact with food, and can provide a bridge to understanding diet in the past. We can tease out the details by studying their size, shape, structure, wear, and chemistry. Teeth connect us to our ancestors, and them to their worlds. I like to think of nature as a giant buffet of sorts. I imagine animals bellying up to the sneeze guard on this biospheric buffet with empty plate in hand. Teeth can teach us about the choices they make; and it’s those choices that help define a species’ place in nature. As the old adage goes, you are what you eat. Teeth are important because they can help us understand relationships between animals in the past and the worlds around them, and about their—and our—evolution.

Why do we have so many problems with our teeth today? Why do we get cavities, require braces, and have impacted wisdom teeth?

PSU: Think about how extraordinary your teeth are. They have to break food, without being broken themselves, up to millions of times over your lifetime. And they have to do it built from the very same raw materials as the foods you are eating. Nature is truly an inspired engineer, and it’s remarkable they last as long and function as well as they do. But they’re not perfect. Most of us today get cavities, and many of us have crooked front teeth, and impacted wisdom teeth. This is largely because of our diets. We eat mostly soft foods, loaded with highly-processed carbohydrates, especially refined sugars. Cavities form by erosion from acids produced by plaque bacteria. Feeding those bacteria diets high in carbohydrates, especially sugars, means more cavities. Also, when we eat soft foods as children, we don’t exercise our jaws enough to stimulate the growth they need to make room for all our teeth. The result is crowded lower incisors, uppers that jut out over the lowers in the front of the mouth, and impacted third molars in the back. It’s not that our teeth are too big for our jaws, it’s that our jaws don’t grow long enough to accommodate all our teeth. Most traditional foragers that eat tougher or harder foods have longer jaws, and so don’t suffer the sorts of orthodontic problems the rest of us have.

Do other species have these problems? If not, why are we so different?

PSU: I’ve seen cavities and evidence for gum disease in some non-human primates, particularly in species that eat a lot of fleshy, sugary fruit, but they’re much rarer than in us. There are very few early human fossils that provide evidence of dental disease in our distant past either. Again, it seems to be a mismatch between our diets today, and the foods that we evolved to eat. Our teeth are not designed for hamburgers and French fries, nor to be bathed in milkshake. If you want to see evidence of that mismatch, just smile and look in a mirror.

What was your motivation for writing a popular science book?

PSU: My PhD dissertation was 654 pages, mostly focused on a quarter of a square millimeter of the surface of some incisor teeth. Most academics are so narrow in their research focus that it can be difficult to see the forest for the trees. I wrote this book to give myself the big picture, to give me an appreciation of the larger context into which my own work fits. Also, no more than half a dozen people actually read my dissertation cover to cover, and that includes my mother. Academics often feel like they’re speaking, but no one is listening. I wanted to reach a larger audience. This book at first glance seems to be about teeth – but it’s really about the biospheric buffet, and how environmental change over deep time swapped out items and choices available to our distant ancestors. The take-home message is that large-scale climate swings winnowed out the pickier eaters among us, and drove our evolution. Teeth are our window through which to see it. The most important message here is that climate changes, and species have to change to accommodate or die. That’s why we’re here. It’s a timely, important lesson.

As a scientist who has spent the last three decades studying evidence for the evolution of human diet, what do you think of today’s “Paleolithic diet” trend? And what was the ancestral human diet, anyway?

PSU: I’m not a fan. I like pizza and bagels too much. Still, there’s little doubt that our ancestors did not eat such things; so it makes sense that a discordance between the foods we evolved to consume and what we fuel ourselves with today can wreak havoc on our bodies. Try putting diesel in a car built to run on regular gasoline (actually, don’t). And people do lose weight when they cut refined carbohydrates and processed sugars from their diets. We could well benefit from eating more like our Stone Age ancestors, with menus like those in some popular diet books—you know, spinach salads with avocado, walnuts, diced turkey and the like. I am not a nutritionist, and cannot speak with authority about the nutritional costs of benefits of Paleolithic diets—but I can address their evolutionary underpinnings. Think about it this way. Any diet that drains the body of fat reserves means not meeting daily caloric needs. It is difficult to believe that nature would select for us to eat only foods that don’t provide the nutrients required to maintain the body. In fact, the whole idea of the Paleolithic diet is problematic. Even if we could (and we can’t) reconstruct the glycemic load, fatty acid, macro- and micronutrient composition, acid/base balance, sodium/potassium ratio, and fiber content of foods eaten at a moment in time in the past, the information would be meaningless for planning a menu. All these nutrients varied with food availability over space and time, as items on the biospheric buffet table were swapped in and out, so focusing on a single point in our evolution is futile. We’ve been a work in progress for millions of years. What was the ancestral human diet? The question itself makes no sense.

Peter S. Ungar is Distinguished Professor and director of the Environmental Dynamics Program at the University of Arkansas. He is the author of Teeth: A Very Short IntroductionMammal Teeth: Origin, Evolution, and Diversity and Evolution’s Bite: A Story of Teeth, Diet, and Human Origins.

Andrew Lo on Adaptive Markets: Financial Evolution at the Speed of Thought

Half of all Americans have money in the stock market, yet economists can’t agree on whether investors and markets are rational and efficient, as modern financial theory assumes, or irrational and inefficient, as behavioral economists believe. In this groundbreaking book, Andrew Lo cuts through this debate with a new framework, the Adaptive Markets Hypothesis, in which rationality and irrationality coexist. Adaptive Markets shows that the theory of market efficiency isn’t wrong but merely incomplete. Lo’s new paradigm explains how financial evolution shapes behavior and markets at the speed of thought. An ambitious new answer to fundamental questions in economics, Adaptive Markets is essential reading for anyone who wants to know how markets really work. We asked him to explain the Adaptive Markets Hypothesis, the strengths and limitations on the current theories, and how this new thinking can be practically applied.

What led you to write this book?

AL: Ever since I was a graduate student in economics, I’ve been struggling with the uncomfortable observation that economic theory doesn’t seem to work in practice. As elegant as this theory is, there are so many examples where the data just don’t support the theory that, after a while, I started wondering just how useful our theories were. For example, stock market prices don’t follow random walks, market prices don’t always seem rational, and people often make poor decisions, especially when it comes to financial matters. But it takes a theory to beat a theory. Rather than just criticizing existing theories, I decided to develop an alternative—this book describes the personal journey I took to arrive at that alternative, which I call the Adaptive Markets Hypothesis.

What’s the Adaptive Markets Hypothesis?

AL: The Adaptive Markets Hypothesis is my solution to the longstanding debate in financial economics between two competing camps. One camp consists of the disciples of the Efficient Markets Hypothesis, who believe that investors are rational decision makers and market prices fully reflect all available information. The opposing camp consists of the psychologists and behavioral economists who believe that investors are irrational and market prices are driven by “animal spirits.” It turns out that both camps have correctly captured certain aspects of human behavior, but neither camp offers a complete picture of how investors and markets behave. The Adaptive Markets Hypothesis fills this gap.

How?

AL: By drawing on recent research in psychology, neuroscience, evolutionary biology, and artificial intelligence, I show that human behavior is the result of several different components of the brain, some of which produce rational behavior while others produce more instinctive emotional behavior. These components often work together, but occasionally they compete with each other. And for obvious evolutionary reasons, rationality can be trumped by emotion and instinct when we’re confronted with extreme circumstances like physical threats—we “freak out.” The problem is that these hardwired responses to physical threats are also triggered by financial threats, and freaking out is generally not the best way to deal with such threats. Therefore, investors and markets have a split personality: sometimes they’re quite rational but every so often, they freak out.

Are you suggesting that the Efficient Markets Hypothesis, which dominates financial thinking today, is wrong?

AL: No! On the contrary, the Efficient Markets Hypothesis is one of the most useful, powerful, and beautiful pieces of economic reasoning that economists have ever proposed. Generations of investors and portfolio managers have been saved from bad investment decisions because of the Efficient Markets Hypothesis, which says that if something seems too good to be true, it probably is. The Efficient Markets Hypothesis is not wrong; it’s merely incomplete. Its focus is the behavior of investors and markets in normal business environments, where the “wisdom of crowds” rules the day. What’s missing is the “madness of mobs,” when investors are reacting emotionally and instinctively in response to extreme business environments—good or bad—leading either to irrational exuberance or panic selling. The Adaptive Markets Hypothesis provides a more complete framework in which both types of behaviors are possible. The combination of these behaviors yields a much richer set of implications for price dynamics, investment strategies, risk management, and financial regulation.

Who is the intended audience for this book?

AL: My intention was to write this book for the general reader, but only time will tell whether or not I’ve succeeded. In fact, I’m hoping that there’s something for everyone in this book. For example, readers wondering whether or not it’s possible to beat the stock market using mathematical models will want to read Chapter 2, “If You’re So Smart, Why Aren’t You Rich?” For readers already convinced that it’s possible and want to understand the neuroscientific basis of irrational behavior, they’ll want to read Chapter 3, “If You’re So Rich, Why Aren’t You Smart?” No book on finance would be complete without a discussion of how the recent financial crisis could have happened to us—a country with one of the most sophisticated financial systems in the world—and that’s Chapter 9, “Fear, Greed, and Financial Crisis.” And for readers interested in getting a glimpse of the future of the financial industry and the amazing things that can be accomplished with finance if used properly, there’s Chapter 12, “To Boldly Go Where No Financier Has Gone Before.” Although the book is based on my academic research, I’ve worked hard to translate “academic-speak” into plain English, using simple analogies and real-life examples to make the research come alive. In fact, there’s not a single equation or mathematical formula in the book, which is no easy feat for someone from MIT!

In Adaptive Markets you take an interdisciplinary view of financial markets, bringing in cognitive neuroscience, biology, computer science, and engineering. How did you come to bring all of these seemingly disparate fields together and why is that important?

AL: Although I do enjoy learning new things and have broad-ranging interests, when I started my academic career as a financial economist, I had no interest or intention in doing “interdisciplinary” research. I was perfectly happy spending my days and nights working on traditional neoclassical financial economics—portfolio theory, derivatives pricing models, asset pricing models, financial econometrics, and so on. But the more I tried to fit financial theories to data, the more frustrated I became that these theories performed so poorly. So I started trying to understand why the theories broke down and how they could be fixed. I began by studying behavioral economics and finance, which led me to psychology, which then to the cognitive neurosciences, and so on. I was dragged—sometimes kicking and screaming—from one field of study to the next in my quest to understand why financial markets don’t work the way we think (and want them to). This process ultimately led me to the Adaptive Markets Hypothesis, which is a very satisfying (for me, at least) integration of various disciplines that have something to say about human behavior. I’m especially pleased by the fact that Adaptive Markets reconciles the two competing schools of thought in financial economics, both of which are compelling in their own right even though they’re incomplete.

Why do we need to understand the evolution of finance?

AL: Many authors and academics will use evolution as a metaphor when referring to the impact of change. In Adaptive Markets, I use evolution quite literally because financial markets and institutions are nothing short of evolutionary adaptations that Homo sapiens has developed to improve our chances of survival. Therefore, if we really want to understand how the financial system works, how it changes over time and circumstances, and what we can do to improve it, we need to understand the evolution of finance. And unlike animal species, which evolve from one generation to the next, the financial system evolves at the speed of thought.

You argue that economics wishes it were more like the hard science of physics where 99% of all observable phenomena can be explained with three laws. Will we ever have a complete understanding of how financial markets function?

AL: It’s true that most economists—myself included—suffer from a psychological disorder called “physics envy.” We wish we could explain 99% of economic behavior with three laws like the physicists but this is a pipe dream. The great physicist Richard Feynman put it best when he said, “Imagine how much harder physics would be if electrons had feelings!” I tell all my students at the start of the semester that all economic theories are approximations to a much more complex reality, so the key question for investors and portfolio managers is not “is the theory correct?” but rather, “how good is the approximation?” The answer to this question lies largely in the environment, which plays a huge role in evolutionary theories. Whether we’ll ever be able to develop a truly complete theory of human behavior—and, therefore, how financial markets function—is hard to say. But I do believe that we can get much closer to that complete theory through the Adaptive Markets Hypothesis.

How can investors and portfolio managers incorporate the Adaptive Markets Hypothesis into their investment philosophies?

AL: The Adaptive Markets Hypothesis has a relatively straightforward but sweeping implication for all investment philosophies, and that has to do with change. During normal business environments, the principles of Efficient Markets are an excellent approximation to reality. For example, from the 1930s to the early 2000s, a period where the U.S. stock market had relatively consistent average returns and volatility, a long-only passive investment strategy of 60% stocks and 40% bonds produced pretty decent returns, particularly for those who were investing over a 10- or 20-year horizon. The problem is that this approach doesn’t always work. When market conditions change and we experience large macro shocks like the financial crisis of 2008, then simple heuristics like 60/40 no longer work as well because financial markets have changed in their dynamics. Today’s markets are now much more responsive to intervention by governments and their central banks and punctuated by the irregular cycle of fear and greed. So since 2007 and 2008, we’ve seen a very different market dynamic than over the previous six decades. The point of Adaptive Markets is not simply to be wedded to any static theory, but rather to understand how the nature of markets can change. And once it does change, we need to change with it. John Maynard Keynes put it best when, in responding to criticism that he flip-flopped on the gold standard, he said, “When the facts change, sir, I change my mind. What do you do?”

Can you give an example of how change might impact today’s investors?

AL: One important implication of Adaptive Markets for investors and portfolio managers is that passive investing is changing and we have to adapt. John Bogle—the founder of the Vanguard Group and the father of passive investing and index funds—had an incredibly important insight in the 1970s which he calls the “Cost Matters Hypothesis:” reducing trading costs can have a huge impact on wealth accumulation. Bogle has done more for the individual investor than anyone else I can think of; he democratized the investment process. Thanks to technological innovations like automated trading, electronic market-making, and big data analytics, we’re ready to take the next evolutionary step that builds on Bogle’s legacy. For example, like the trend in healthcare towards personalized medicine, we can now create personalized indexes that are passive portfolios designed to achieve specific goals for a given individual. You might be more risk tolerant than your neighbor so your portfolio will have more equities, but because you work in the financial industry and she works in big pharma, your personalized portfolio will have fewer financial stocks and hers will have fewer biopharma stocks. Also, personalized indexes can manage the risk more actively to suit an individual’s threshold of “pain.” Current financial wisdom criticizes investors who don’t invest for the long run, and I’ve always thought such criticism to be terribly unfair. After all, how easy is it for someone to stick with an investment that’s lost 50% of its value over just a few months? Well, that’s exactly what happened between the fourth quarter of 2008 and the first quarter of 2009. Traditional investment advice is a bit like trying to prevent teenage pregnancies by asking teenagers to abstain—it’s not bad advice, but it’s unrealistic. Why not manage the risk of an individual’s portfolio more actively so as to reduce the chances of freaking out?

Finance has developed a bad reputation in the popular press, particularly in the aftermath of the recent financial crisis. Does the Adaptive Markets Hypothesis have anything to say about this and how things can be improved?

AL: Absolutely. At the heart of all bad behavior, regardless of the industry or context, is human nature. Humans are the Curious George of the animal kingdom, but there’s no “man in the yellow hat” to bail us out when we get into trouble. Homo sapiens has evolved in some remarkable ways and we’re capable of extraordinary things, both good and bad. The same social and cultural forces that give rise to wonderful organizations like the Peace Corps, the Red Cross, and Doctors without Borders can sometimes lead to much darker and destructive organizations. The only way for us to deal more effectively with the negative aspects of society is to acknowledge this dual nature of human behavior. Chapter 11 of Adaptive Markets, titled “Fixing Finance,” is devoted entirely to this objective. We have to be careful not to throw out the baby with the bathwater—the financial system definitely can be improved, but we shouldn’t vilify this critically important industry because of a few bad actors.

What are some specific proposals for how to fix finance?

AL: Well, before we can fix finance, we need to understand where financial crises come from, and the Adaptive Markets Hypothesis has a clear answer: crises are the product of human behavior coupled with free enterprise. If you can eliminate one or both of these two components, you can eliminate financial crises. Otherwise, financial crises are an avoidable fact of modern life. Human misbehavior is a force of Nature, not unlike hurricanes, flash floods, or earthquakes, and it’s not possible to legislate away these natural disasters. But this doesn’t mean we can do anything about it—we may not be able to prevent hurricanes from occurring, but we can do a great deal to prepare for them and reduce the damage they do. We can do a lot to prepare for financial crises and reduce the damage they do to those individuals and institutions least able to withstand their devastating consequences. This perspective is important because it goes against the traditional narrative that financial crises are caused by a few greedy unscrupulous financiers and once we put them in jail, we’ve taken care of the problem. The Adaptive Markets perspective suggests something different: the problem is us. Specific proposals for dealing with crises include: using new technologies in data science to measure economic activity and construct early warning indicators of impending crises; studying crises systematically like the way the National Transportation Safety Board studies airplane crashes so we know how to make the financial system safer; creating adaptive regulations that change with the environment, becoming more restrictive during booms and less restrictive during busts; and systematically measuring individual behavior and corporate culture quantitatively so we can engage in “behavioral risk management.”

Now that you’ve written this book, where do you see your research going from here?

AL: Well, this is still early days for the Adaptive Markets Hypothesis. There’s so much left to be done in exploring the implications of the theory and testing the implications empirically and experimentally whenever possible. The Efficient Markets Hypothesis took decades and hundreds of academic studies to get established, and the same will be true of this one. One of my goals in writing this book is to motivate my academic and industry colleagues to start this vetting process. In the same way that Darwin’s theory of evolution had to be tested and challenged from many different perspectives, the Adaptive Markets Hypothesis has to go through the gauntlet of academic scrutiny. One important implication of the Adaptive Markets perspective is that we need to change the way we collect data and test theories in financial economics. For example, traditional tests of financial theories involve collecting stock market prices and analyzing the statistical properties of their risks and returns. Contrast this approach with how an ecologist would study a newly discovered tropical island in an effort to preserve it. He would begin by first cataloguing the flora and fauna, identifying the key species, and measuring their biomasses and behaviors. Next, he would determine the food chain, environmental threats, and predator/prey relationships, and then turn to population dynamics in the context of the changing environment. Ultimately, such a process would lead to a much deeper understanding of the entire ecosystem, allowing ecologists to determine the best way to ensure the long-term health and sustainability of that island. Imagine doing the same thing with the financial industry. We would begin by cataloguing the different types of financial institutions and investors, measuring their financial biomass, and identifying key species—banks, hedge funds, pension funds, retail investors, regulators, etc.—and their behaviors. Then we would determine the various types of business relationships and interdependencies among these species, which are critical for mapping the population dynamics of this financial ecosystem. This approach seems sensible enough, but it’s not yet being done today (except by my collaborators and me!).

How do you continue to evolve your own thinking? What do you do?

AL: Someone very wise once said that the beginning of wisdom is humility, and I’m convinced that this is how we make progress as a civilization. Once we’re convinced that we have all the answers, we stop asking new questions and learning. So I’m continually looking for new ways to understand financial market behavior, and constantly humbled by how little I know compared to how much we have yet to discover. In this respect, I guess I’m an intellectual opportunist—I don’t care where an idea comes from or what academic discipline it belongs to; if it gives me new insight into an existing problem, I’ll use it and build on it. I’m currently working on several applications of the Adaptive Markets Hypothesis to investments, risk management, and financial regulation, and also hoping to test the theory in the context of individual and institutional investment decisions. The initial results are quite promising and show that financial industry participants adapt much more quickly than we thought. These results point to several important unintended consequences that have clear implications for how we should regulate the industry so as to reduce the chances of another financial crisis.

Andrew W. Lo is the Charles E. and Susan T. Harris Professor at the MIT Sloan School of LoManagement and director of the MIT Laboratory for Financial Engineering. He is the author of Hedge Funds and Adaptive Markets: Financial Evolution at the Speed of Thought. He is also the founder of AlphaSimplex Group, a quantitative investment management company based in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Anurag Agrawal: Monarchs vs. Milkweed

by Anurag Agrawal

Coevolution is a special kind of evolution. And monarchs and milkweeds exemplify this special process. In particular, what makes coevolution special is reciprocity. In other words, coevolution is one species that evolves in response to the other, and the other species evolves in response to the first. Thus, it is a back-and-forth that has the potential to spiral out of control. In some arms races, the two organisms both benefit, such as that between some pollinators and flowering plants. But coevolution is more common among antagonists, like predators and their prey.

When biologists first described coevolution, they likened it to an arms race. An arms race, such as that between political entities, occurs when two nations reciprocally increase their armament in response to each other. So how does an arms race between monarchs and milkweeds, or between cats and mice, or between lions and wildebeest, or between plants and their pathogenic fungi, proceed? When coevolution occurs, it proceeds with “defense” and “counter defense.” And one of the few rules of coevolution is that for every defense that a plant or prey mounts, the predator mounts a counter defense, or an exploitative strategy to overcome the defense.

Once a monarch butterfly lays an egg on a milkweed plant, the natural history of coevolution unfolds. For every defense that the plant mounts, milkweed mounts a counter defense. Once the caterpillar hatches, it must contend with a bed of dense hairs that are a barrier to consumption of the leaf. But monarchs are patient, and have coevolved with the milkweed. So their first strategy is to shave that bed of hairs such that the caterpillar has access to the leaves that lie beneath.

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For every defense there’s a counter defense. But next, when the monarch caterpillar sinks its mandibles into the milkweed leaf, it encounters a sticky, poisonous liquid called latex. In this video we will see how the monarch caterpillar deactivates the latex bomb that the milkweed puts forward.

And so the arms race continues, with reciprocal natural selection resulting in coevolution between monarchs and milkweeds. In my book, Monarchs and Milkweed, I outline the third level of defense and counter defense between these two enemies. Milkweed next mounts a remarkable and highly toxic defense chemical called a cardiac glycoside. But, yes, again the Monarch has evolved the means to not only not be poisoned by the cardiac glycoside, but to sequester it away and put it to work in defense of the Monarch itself from its enemies, such as predatory birds. For more on the Monarch – Milkweed arms race see this video, filmed in Ithaca, New York outside of Cornell University where we conduct our research.

AgrawalAnurag Agrawal is a professor in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology and the Department of Entomology at Cornell University. He is the author of Monarchs and Milkweed: A Migrating Butterfly, a Poisonous Plant, and Their Remarkable Story of Coevolution.

Anurag Agrawal: The oldest butterflies?

by Anurag Agrawal

It’s unclear when humans became humans. Presumably it was a gradual growth of our consciousness over the eons. There are some things, however, that appear to distinguish us from most other animals. For example, our artistic depictions. From the deepest, darkest caves have emerged pictures of humanity from thousands of years ago. And in an Egyptian tomb, that of Nebamun, on a painting called “Fowling in the marshes” (from around 1350 BCE) comes one of the oldest human depictions of butterflies. It happens to be of the African Monarch, Danaus chrysippus, sometimes called the plain tiger, a close relative of our beloved North American Monarch butterfly, Danaus plexippus.

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I stumbled on this lovely scrap of history when a friend and colleague, Harry Greene, gifted me a book: Nabokov’s Butterflies (2000), a collection of unpublished and uncollected writings. Some explanation is in order. Harry is an extraordinary naturalist and big thinker in ecology and evolution. Like many senior scholars, his predicament was the lack of shelf-space in his office. And so I was the beneficiary of Nabokov’s Butterflies. Vladimir Nabokov, a Russian-American author, and noted entomologist, was most famous for his writings, for example, Lolita, and his celebrated translation of Pushkin’s novel in verse, Eugene Onegin. His ideas about biology were diverse, he was a passionate lepidopterist, and he often intermixed his literary writing and entomological excursions. Lolita is said to have been written primarily on butterfly collecting trips in the American west. Nonetheless, Nabokov also clung on to other ideas that held little merit in the scientific sphere. Most prominently, Nabokov rejected evolution by natural selection as a driver of certain organismal traits that he deemed ‘coincidental, miraculous, or too luxurious.’

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Nabokov was a professor at my own Cornell University in the decade following WWII. Although he taught literature and had well-known students at Cornell (including U.S. supreme court justice, Ruth Bader Ginsburg), his entomological interests continued. In fact, after he retired from Cornell in the mid-1960s, Nabokov had sketched out an outline of a book: The Butterflies of Europe. And although the book never came to be, the outline was recapitulated in Nabokov’s Butterflies. Flipping through the book, I stumbled on his entry for Danaus in which he wrote, “This butterfly has the distinction of being the oldest known to have been represented by man. Seven specimens of it (with typical white-dotted Danaus body but somewhat Vanessa cardui like wingtips) are shown flitting over the papyrus swamp…” (page 603).

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I later asked another friend, Harvard’s Lepidopterist, Naomi Pierce: did Nabokov have it right? On the money, she independently pointed to the similarity of Danaus chrysippus and the painted lady, Vanessa cardui, wondering if the butterflies on this three thousand year old tomb painting were Danaus or Vanessa. She concluded, as did Nabokov, that the African Monarch ruled. Detailed assessment of the color patterns on the wings were informative to both entomologists. The oldest human depiction of a butterfly? Perhaps not. Naomi mentioned some evidence of butterflies in Minoan artifacts from Crete, a thousand years earlier than Nebamun, and likely in Pyrenees cave paintings, some 10-30 thousand years earlier!

Of course, there is nothing special about being the oldest depiction of a butterfly by Homo sapiens. But suffice it to say, butterflies, metamorphosis, wing patterning, and the beauty of nature have been on our minds for a very long time. Thanks Harry and Naomi! And thanks Nabokov. Who knows what becomes of those side hobbies and obsessions we all hold.

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AgrawalAnurag Agrawal is a professor in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology and the Department of Entomology at Cornell University. He is the author of Monarchs and Milkweed: A Migrating Butterfly, a Poisonous Plant, and Their Remarkable Story of Coevolution.

Anurag Agrawal: The migration patterns of the monarch butterfly

by Anurag Agrawal

The plight of monarch butterflies if often in the news: many scientists around the world are working hard to understand their annual migratory cycle. How do the monarchs produced during summer in the northern reaches of America contribute to the overwintering population in Mexico? The origin of monarch butterflies that make it to Mexico has been hotly debated because it has profound consequences for how we approach monarch conservation.

A new study is remarkable in its use of historical collections over the past 40 years and modern isotopic analysis. The scientists address the most important regions in the U.S. for producing monarch butterflies that actually make it to Mexico. This sort of data has been very difficult to come by and there has been a lot of speculation. As outlined in my new book from Princeton, the midwest has dominated discussions as being the most important region in the U.S. for monarchs. In the study, the authors find that the Midwest contributes a whopping 38% of the butterflies that make it to Mexico.

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The regions studied by Flockhart et al. separated to highlight their relative areas

I would add two points for discussion. The first is that the areas of land that the authors designated as Midwest, Northeast, etc., seemed totally reasonable, but also somewhat arbitrary. In particular, an issue arises when you consider that, as designated in the paper, the Midwest is about 2.5 times as big as the Northeast. It is therefore not surprising that the Midwest produces about 2.5 times as many butterflies that make it to Mexico (38% vs 15%). In other words, the butterflies that make it to Mexico have about an equal probability of coming from the Midwest and the Northeast when land area is considered. Yet another way to think about this is that two states that are about equal sizes in the two regions (for example, Indiana and Maine) will on average produce about the same number of butterflies that make it to Mexico.

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The annual migratory cycle of the monarch butterfly from Monarchs and Milkweed. In my past research, we have opted for a three simple regions defined by the butterfly generations.

Quite interestingly, the North Central area (including my home in the Finger Lakes region of NY) is slightly more important for butterfly production given its size. When you factor out the area of the Great Lakes (where there are no monarch caterpillars), the area of North Central is small (36% of the size of the Midwest). Thus, about 20% more butterflies per square mile come out of the North Central than the Midwest or Northeast. Where does this leave us?  The agricultural Midwest is certainly important, but perhaps not as important as previously thought.

The other point worth thinking about is that the Southwest (read: Texas) comes out as big in terms of area (equal to the Midwest) and relatively less important in terms of contributing butterflies (11% of the total).  The critical importance of the Gulf States including Texas, however, is not in the last generation of butterflies produced in fall that migrate south, but rather in the first generation of butterflies that are produced in spring and that migrate north to the Midwest and Northeast.  In other words, the Gulf States are absolutely critical for the annual migratory cycle, even if that is not where fall migrants are produced.  Without a spring generation there, the Midwest and Northeast would be empty!  In chapter 9 of the book, I summarize the critical importance of Gulf States not only for the spring, but also in providing floral resources for fall migrating butterflies.

I hope we see more studies like this in the future, as it provides new important information and was inspiring to read.

AgrawalAnurag Agrawal is a professor in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology and the Department of Entomology at Cornell University. He is the author of Monarchs and Milkweed: A Migrating Butterfly, a Poisonous Plant, and Their Remarkable Story of Coevolution.

Anurag Agrawal: Monarch overwintering

by Anurag Agrawal

The estimates of the monarch butterfly overwintering population were announced February 9th by WWF Mexico. The butterflies are so dense at their dozen or so mountain-top clustering sites that overwintering butterflies cannot be individually counted. Instead, the area of forest that is densely coated with butterflies (at about 5,000 butterflies per square meter looking up into the canopy) is estimated as a measure of monarch abundance. Butterflies arrive in Mexico around early November and stay until March.

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This winter season (2016-2017), there were approximately 2.9 hectares of forest occupied with dense monarchs (somewhere in the neighborhood of 300,000 million overwintering butterflies). This estimate is down 27% compared to last year. Nonetheless, the previous two years were a 600% increase over the all-time low recorded in the winter of 2013-2014.

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Where does this leave us? This year’s population was higher than predicted by many. The season started with a late spring storm that killed an estimated 5-10% of monarchs in March 2016, and many reported low numbers of adults last summer. Nonetheless, the lower numbers this season compared to last are within the range of year-to-year variation, and overall, the population seems to be relatively stable over the past decade. With these 24 years of data, there are various ways to plot and assess the trends. Below I have plotted the four year averages for six periods beginning in 1992. Any way you slice it, the trend has been negative, and the population is not nearly what it once was. Nonetheless, the downward trend seems to have lessened this last period. Is this the new norm? How dangerously low are these numbers? And what can we do to reverse the trend?

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AgrawalAnurag Agrawal is a professor in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology and the Department of Entomology at Cornell University. He is the author of Monarchs and Milkweed: A Migrating Butterfly, a Poisonous Plant, and Their Remarkable Story of Coevolution.

 

 

 

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10 Facts from How Men Age

AgeIn How Men Age, Richard Bribiescas is one of the first to bring evolutionary biology into the conversation of male aging, describing how it has contributed to the evolution of the human species as a whole. The book makes fascinating reading for anyone who has wondered about the purpose of male post reproductive years. From oxidative stress to loss of hormonal plasticity, here are a few things you may not have known about male aging:


1. Compared to other animals, the human life span is much longer than one would predict. Life span is usually correlated with female reproductive life span; that is, when females cease reproducing, it is usually a signpost that mortality for the species is imminent. However, in humans about a third of female life is post-reproductive.

2. Men tend to die at higher rates at younger ages than do women from infancy, through adulthood, and into old age, regardless of culture or environmental context.

3. Sex ratios in humans at birth are biased towards males, but the reason remains a mystery. There may be an unequal number of X- and Y-bearing sperm, the fertilization process might be somehow biased, or there might be an unequal attrition during gestation, all of the above, or something else entirely.

4. In males, muscle serves two purposes unique to their sex. It augments their ability to reproduce by supporting competition and attractiveness and it is an important source of overall energy regulation. More so than other types of muscle, skeletal muscle is sexually dimorphic, which means that relative mass, form, and function differ between men and women.

5. The type of muscles men tend to have are type II, which supports quick movements and bursts of strength. The muscle tends to be in their upper body, including in their shoulders, arms, and back.

6. Men lost muscle tone as they age because of declining testosterone, lower metabolic rates, and shifts in other areas of the hypothalamic-pituitary-testicular hormone axis.

7. After a certain age, men living more urbanized, sedentary lifestyles exhibit a more notable drop in testosterone compared to other men around the world.

8. Testosterone tends to peak in the second decade of life and then slowly decline until the age of 40, after which it is pretty much stable for the rest of a man’s life.

9. As men age, their bodies become less sensitive to environmental and energetic cues and less malleable and responsive to surrounding change. This loss of hormonal plasticity causes the body to become less efficient at putting on muscle and regulating fat accumulation.

10. Oxidative stress is one contributing factor to aging. Men tend to have higher metabolic rates than women, and therefore have the capacity to generate more oxidative stress over their lifetimes. This might contribute to shorter lifespans in men.

To delve into this engaging subject further, pick up a copy of How Men Age.