Bad Science – Ben Goldacre

I’ve just finished reading the book Bad Science, written by Dr Ben Goldacre. The book deals with how science is done and how science can be misused and misinterpreted. Goldacre cites numerous examples of the damage this can cause – e.g. the damage to human health caused by the misinterpretation or mistrust of medical science, or the general damage to the public’s understanding of science created by those who communicate science poorly, or to manipulative ends.

Goldacre’s background is in medicine and so the book concentrates on this area, using examples from drug companies and alternative medicine. However the basics of how science is done (the “scientific method”) apply across all areas of science. And Goldacre writes in an extremely accessible way – in fact, that is the point he is trying to make. Science isn’t difficult and scary – everyone is capable of understanding the basics of how it is done – and those people who dress science up in jargon and make it seem complex and mysterious are doing damage, scaring people away from engaging with and attempting to understand science. The numerous newspaper articles and healthscares that Goldacre mentions are a clear warning why public understanding of science is so vital.

I really recommend this book to everyone. As someone studying science I found it useful (and refreshing) to see descriptions of research methods described in informal, jargon-free words. But I think everyone could benefit from reading this. I promise you, you’ll never read a newspaper “health” story in the same way.

Biodiversity Heritage Library

I’ve just stumbled across the Biodiversity Heritage Library‘s Flickr account which contains hundreds of scanned wildlife illustrations. As well as their scientific value, these sorts of illustrations are also incredibly beautiful pieces of art (who says science and art don’t mix?). Here are some that caught my eye – but it’s definitely worth exploring the collection for yourself:

n16_w1150

n12_w1150

n8_w1150

n20_w1150

n422_w1150

n476_w1150

How many species do we need?

I’ve just handed in the first draft of my dissertation (the final version is due in mid-January). As much as is possible with a large and stressful piece of coursework, I’d say I enjoyed writing it. I was lucky enough to be able to do it on a topic that really interests me – the link between biological diversity and ecosystem functioning.

This is an area that has received growing attention in the last couple of decades, since the global decline in biodiversity was recognised. Earlier ecologists had looked at biodiversity to try and answer why we have it: why are there so many species? How do they coexist? What environmental and ecological factors maintain diverse communities? And over the longer term, how does diversity evolve? Why do species split and give rise new species?

But the recognition that biodiversity was under threat suggested a new question. What would happen to ecosystems if species were lost? Instead of asking what causes diversity, ecologists started to wonder what would happen if we lost that diversity.

Answering this question requires an understanding of what species do. What function do they perform? Living things can be categorised into functional groups. For example, the objects of my practical project are the detritivores. These are organisms which facilitate the breakdown of organic matter, helping to recycle nutrients back into the soil. Their function is decomposition. Another functional group is the pollinating insects, such as the bees, which have received a much attention in recent years due to worrying losses of honeybees which are used to pollinate many commercial crops. The much quoted statement (allegedly from Einstein) sums up the potential importance of such a functional group:

“If the bee disappears from the surface of the earth, man would have no more than four years to live.”

Bees pollinate flowers. Pollinated flowers bear fruit. Without bees, crops might fail.

We can assume that the “pollinators” are an important functional group. Having no pollinators at all would surely cause problems. But how important is diversity within that group? Could honeybees do everything, or do we need lots of species of bees and other insects?

At the heart of the diversity-ecosystem function debate is the question of redundancy. The redundant hypothesis suggests that in any functional group there are probably several species that do the same thing, perform the same role. If true, then perhaps we could safely lose some of these species without any loss of function. However there is likely to be a certain minimum diversity level beyond which function will decline. How many species is this? Five? One? We do not know, and it is likely to vary widely for different ecosystems, different functions and different species.

Contrasting with the redundant hypotheses is the “rivet” hypothesis. The rivet hypothesis gets its name from an analogy with the rivets holding together the body of an aeroplane: the builders of the aeroplane would have planned for a degree of redundancy. It might be safe to lose a few rivets, but there will be a point where the integrity of the aeroplane breaks down and fails. The problem is, that when it comes to ecosystems and species, we don’t know the safety limit. We’re not sure how many rivets it is safe to lose, or if it is safe to lose any at all. An extreme form of the rivet hypothesis suggests there is no redundancy: every species lost is important and will have a detrimental effect on ecosystem function.

At heart, the rivet and redundant hypotheses are similar. Both suggest caution – we simply do not know how many species it is “safe” to lose, if any.

The authors all write as good scientists too, concentrating on the facts and what is practical, and leaving aside the wider ethical implications of species loss. The functional debate can be a way of highlighting the importance of species loss to groups who might not otherwise acknowledge its importance: it brings the debate about species loss into the sphere of human concern. How does the loss of a species affect me? Will I have less food to eat? Will I have to use more fertiliser to improve soils that lack detritivores?

It’s an approach that needs to be taken with caution and always placed into the wider context of man’s relationship to the natural world. From an ecologist’s point of view it is a fascinating approach, combining approaches from previously separate fields of ecology such as population biology and community ecology. Exploring the questions requires a deep understanding of individual species’ roles, which can only be gained with thorough and attentive field work of the sort which is threatened with becoming unfashionable; but the complexity of the question also requires complex theoretical models that can approximate the tangled systems and feedbacks within real-world ecosystems comprised of tens or hundreds of species.

Although much progress has been made in the last twenty years, much more needs to be done. One thing seems certain: we should proceed with caution, lest we end up playing Russian roulette with species loss.

Some further reading:

Ehrlich, P. R. and Ehrlich, A. H. (1981) Extinction. The causes and consequences of the disappearance of species., New York: Random House.

Ehrlich, P. and Walker, B. (1998) ‘Rivets and redundancy’, Bioscience, 48(5), 387-387.

Lawton, J. H. (1994) ‘What do species do in ecosystems?’, Oikos, 71(3), 367-374.

Walker, B. H. (1992) ‘Biodiversity and ecological redundancy’, Conservation Biology, 6(1), 18-23.

Pitfall trap trial results

In my last post I mentioned that I’d be testing out my pitfall traps as I’ve never used them before. I was really curious to see what I’d catch – or even if I’d catch anything at all!

I performed the trial at Barnmead Road allotments as it’s one of the closest sites to me. I set up two traps in a “traditional” style vegetable bed (i.e. a large, flat bed; without wooden borders; showing evidence of being walked on – compressed soil), and two traps in a “raised” style bed (i.e. soil higher than ground level; surrounded by wooden planks; narrow bed, about 1.5 m wide; not walked on).

Here’s one of the traps set up and ready:

Pitfall trap at Barnmead Road

Pitfall trap at Barnmead Road

I left the traps overnight and came back early the next morning to free any trapped animals before they got baked by the sun or eaten by birds (or started to eat each other …). I was amazed to look into the first trap and see a ground beetle running around inside – and four ground beetles in the next one!

In total the results were:

Traditional bed: 5 ground beetles, 4 ants, 1 spider and various mites and things too small to get a good look at (totalling 10+ individuals)

Raised bed: 1 ant, 1 spider, 1 very tiny centipede and a few of the small mites (totalling 3+ individuals)

Which seems like quite a difference: No beetles at all in the raised bed, and in general, fewer of what was there.

But of course, that’s not really what I could call a meaningful result. Testing only one bed of each type, for one night only, at one location, doesn’t give me enough information to say anything. The result could be entirely due to chance. I’d be very happy (and intrigued) if my proper study found anything as clear cut, but the point of the trial was only to get some practice at using the traps and get an idea of whether one night would be long enough to catch anything at all.

As you may have noticed, I found no woodlice. Such a small sample is only going to pick up a very small proportion of what is living in the area. It was also a very hot and dry couple of days, which may have affected the activity of animals like woodlice that prefer the damp. I’m sure woodlice are there (I’ve seen them), and I think it’s likely the larger survey will pick some up. It does leave me with an interesting question though: If my traps are picking up interesting patterns in other groups (e.g. the ground beetles), should I record these too? I might have to broaden the scope of the survey to look at more groups, especially if the numbers of woodlice picked up by the traps are too low to perform any meaningful analysis on. This is something I’ll discuss with my supervisor – as interesting as it might be to look at more invertebrate groups, it would also complicate the study (and whereas I’ve had some practise identifying woodlice, I haven’t practised with other invertebrate groups).

So, lots of things to think about – which shows just how useful even a small trial can be.

Trialling pitfall traps

I got married recently and went away on my honeymoon which is why I haven’t posted anything for while. I’m back to reality now – and back to woodlice!

Before I left for my honeymoon, I handed in the plan for my dissertation. I’m expecting feedback from my supervisor soon. Fingers crossed he likes what I’ve done so far.

I’m also gearing up for the practical surveying. This week I’m aiming to perform a small trial of my pitfall traps to see what they catch (if anything!).

A pitfall trap is a simple method for collecting invertebrates that move across the soil surface. It is basically a container sunk into the ground into which the organism of interest is meant to stumble and fall! I’ll need to think carefully about how many pitfall traps to use and where to place them to get a good sample size that is representative of the area.

There isn’t much in the way of equipment available from my university which means I have to use cheap and easily available equipment. For the pitfall traps I’m going to use plastic drinking cups. They’re really cheap, light to carry around, and most importantly they are a standardised size and shape.

This isn’t one of mine, but gives you an idea of what mine will look like (image from here):

Pitfall trap with lid

Simple, and hopefully effective.

This one has a lid covering it – a good idea in case it rains. In this example it doesn’t look like the rim of the cup is exactly flush with the soil surface, which could prevent things from falling in. Something I’ll have to watch out for. Mine will also be smooth-sided to help prevent anything from being able to climb out.

I’ll let you know how I get on!

Porcellionides pruinosus (and Wolbachia) at Upper Chesham

Am I allowed to call a woodlouse pretty? If so, I think that Porcellionides pruinosus deserves that description. They have a distinctive dusky pink bloom:

Porcellionides pruinosusImage from here.

Porcellionides pruinosus

I hadn’t come across this species until I went to visit Upper Chesham allotments. The Secretary kindly showed me to his magnificent compost heap (am I allowed to call a compost heap magnificent?!). Underneath an old piece of covering carpet was a living carpet of Porcellionides pruinosus.

This species is not native to the UK but has been here since at least Roman times – and has been introduced to so many places by man that they are thought to be the most widely distributed woodlouse species, being found worldwide[1]. It may not actually be one single species, but several closely related subspecies[1].

Porcellionides pruinosus is “synanthropic” meaning it lives in association with humans – probably liking the warmth of compost heaps and dung heaps! They run extremely fast: the ones I took home to identify were so quick I had to put them in the fridge for a while before they slowed down enough for me to get a proper look.

Like many arthropod species, this species of woodlouse carries Wolbachia bacteria. Wolbachia is a fascinating organism, having the ability to alter the reproduction of its host. Wolbachia can induce parthenogenesis (the ability for females to reproduce without males) in species that normally reproduce sexually. It can alter the sex ratio of offspring by preventing males from developing. In Porcellionides pruinosus (and other woodlice), Wolbachia is thought to turn males (which are still genetically male) into functional females (meaning they function in reproduction as females)[1].

Why is Wolbachia so keen on getting rid of males? It is maternally transmitted, meaning males are a dead end, being unable to pass it on to the next generation. Making infected females produce more infected females benefits Wolbachia because there are more infected females around to transmit it[2]!
_______________________________________________

1. Michel-Salzat, A., Cordaux, R. and Bouchon, D. (2001) Wolbachia diversity in the Porcellionides pruinosus complex of species (Crustacea: Oniscidea): evidence for host-dependent patterns of infection. Heredity, 87:428–434

2. Werren, J.H., Baldo, L. and Clark, M.E. (2008) Wolbachia: master manipulators of invertebrate biology. Nature Reviews: Microbiology. 6:741-751

Norfolk Swallowtails

My Dad is down in Norfolk to see the swallowtail butterflies that are only found there (this information sheet from the Norfolk Wildlife Trust has some more information). Here are some photos he sent that are so gorgeous I had to share them:

Side view of a swallowtail butterflySwallowtail butterfly on buddleiaA little like the story of the ugly duckling, these butterflies start off life disguised as bird droppings – this helps the caterpillars avoid being eaten!