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Do People Really Walk in Circles When They’re Lost?

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It’s a reliable movie trope: Our heroes are lost in the woods, and in their valiant effort to make a beeline out of the forest or back to camp or civilization, they inevitably get turned around and wind up back at the same spot where they began.

When a science television show approached Jan Souman, a research scientist at the Max Planck Institute for Biological Cybernetics, with a viewer’s question about the phenomenon, Souman wasn't sure if people actually did accidentally circle back. When lost, he thought, people would probably veer left or right randomly, but not actually circle back.

To find out, he and his research group gathered nine volunteers and stuck six of them in a German forest and the other three in the Tunisian desert. All of them were instructed to walk as straight as possible in one direction for several hours while wearing GPS receivers so that the researchers could analyze their routes.

Course Correction

Souman found that all of them eventually veered off course, and more than half did end up circling back to cross their own paths without realizing it. There was an interesting twist, though. The circling only happened with the four of the forest walkers who made their journeys in overcast conditions and the one desert walker who walked on a night with no visible moon. Those who could see the sun or moon managed to travel in straighter lines and, when they did lose their way, moved as Souman had predicted, veering left and right while generally going in the same direction and not crossing back on their route.

In a second experiment, the researchers had 15 volunteers try to walk in a straight line for an hour while blindfolded. When they couldn't see at all, the walkers circled back sooner, more often, and in tighter arcs, sometimes making a circle about the size of a basketball court.

The two experiments cast doubt on an older idea that this kind of disorientation comes from biomechanical asymmetries—like a differences in length or strength between the left and right legs—that create small but consistent directional bias. That would cause a person to consistently veer off in the same direction, especially when the person is blindfolded and without visual cues to compete with the bias. But only three of the walkers had a tendency to veer in one direction, while the others varied wildly in their circling, with their paths looking like a child had scribbled on a piece of paper. Walking in circles, Souman and his team think, isn’t caused by some physical bias, but an uncertainty about where straight ahead lies that increases over time.

Visual Clues

For the walkers in the first experiment, visual cues appeared to be very important. Those who could see some external reference point—the sun, the moon, a hill in the far distance—could use it to recalibrate their sense of direction and maintain a relatively straight path. (Interestingly, Souman notes that the volunteers in the first experiment walked for several hours, during which the sun moved about 50 to 60 degrees; rather than following a correspondingly bent path, they were able to correct for this, even if subconsciously.)

The volunteers who walked when it was cloudy or dark or while they were blindfolded didn’t have this luxury and walked in circles. Without a reference point to maintain their course, these subjects had to rely on other cues, like sounds and information from the vestibular system, which aids in movement, balance and spatial orientation. Small random mistakes in the processing of these cues, Souman and team think, add up over time, especially when the senses are limited. Eventually, the internal compass fails and “random changes in the subjective sense of straight ahead” lead a person off the straight and narrow path and right back where they started from.

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Big Questions
Why Do Cats Freak Out After Pooping?
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Cats often exhibit some very peculiar behavior, from getting into deadly combat situations with their own tail to pouncing on unsuspecting humans. Among their most curious habits: running from their litter box like a greyhound after moving their bowels. Are they running from their own fecal matter? Has waste elimination prompted a sense of euphoria?

Experts—if anyone is said to qualify as an expert in post-poop moods—aren’t exactly sure, but they’ve presented a number of entertaining theories. From a biological standpoint, some animal behaviorists suspect that a cat bolting after a deposit might stem from fears that a predator could track them based on the smell of their waste. But researchers are quick to note that they haven’t observed cats run from their BMs in the wild.

Biology also has a little bit to do with another theory, which postulates that cats used to getting their rear ends licked by their mother after defecating as kittens are showing off their independence by sprinting away, their butts having taken on self-cleaning properties in adulthood.

Not convinced? You might find another idea more plausible: Both humans and cats have a vagus nerve running from their brain stem. In both species, the nerve can be stimulated by defecation, leading to a pleasurable sensation and what some have labeled “poo-phoria,” or post-poop elation. In running, the cat may simply be working off excess energy brought on by stimulation of the nerve.

Less interesting is the notion that notoriously hygienic cats may simply want to shake off excess litter or fecal matter by running a 100-meter dash, or that a digestive problem has led to some discomfort they’re attempting to flee from. The fact is, so little research has been done in the field of pooping cat mania that there’s no universally accepted answer. Like so much of what makes cats tick, a definitive motivation will have to remain a mystery.

Have you got a Big Question you'd like us to answer? If so, let us know by emailing us at bigquestions@mentalfloss.com.

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Big Questions
Why Do Baseball Managers Wear Uniforms?
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Basketball and hockey coaches wear business suits on the sidelines. Football coaches wear team-branded shirts and jackets and often ill-fitting pleated khakis. Why are baseball managers the only guys who wear the same outfit as their players?

According to John Thorn, the official historian of Major League Baseball since 2011, it goes back to the earliest days of the game. Back then, the person known as the manager was the business manager: the guy who kept the books in order and the road trips on schedule. Meanwhile, the guy we call the manager today, the one who arranges the roster and decides when to pull a pitcher, was known as the captain. In addition to managing the team on the field, he was usually also on the team as a player. For many years, the “manager” wore a player’s uniform simply because he was a player. There were also a few captains who didn’t play for the team and stuck to making decisions in the dugout, and they usually wore suits.

With the passing of time, it became less common for the captain to play, and on most teams they took on strictly managerial roles. Instead of suits proliferating throughout America’s dugouts, though, non-playing captains largely hung on to the tradition of wearing a player's uniform. By the early to mid 20th century, wearing the uniform was the norm for managers, with a few notable exceptions. The Philadelphia Athletics’s Connie Mack and the Brooklyn Dodgers’s Burt Shotton continued to wear suits and ties to games long after it fell out of favor (though Shotton sometimes liked to layer a team jacket on top of his street clothes). Once those two retired, it’s been uniforms as far as the eye can see.

The adherence to the uniform among managers in the second half of the 20th century leads some people to think that MLB mandates it, but a look through the official major league rules [PDF] doesn’t turn up much on a manager’s dress. Rule 1.11(a) (1) says that “All players on a team shall wear uniforms identical in color, trim and style, and all players’ uniforms shall include minimal six-inch numbers on their backs" and rule 2.00 states that a coach is a "team member in uniform appointed by the manager to perform such duties as the manager may designate, such as but not limited to acting as base coach."

While Rule 2.00 gives a rundown of the manager’s role and some rules that apply to them, it doesn’t specify that they’re uniformed. Further down, Rule 3.15 says that "No person shall be allowed on the playing field during a game except players and coaches in uniform, managers, news photographers authorized by the home team, umpires, officers of the law in uniform and watchmen or other employees of the home club." Again, nothing about the managers being uniformed.

All that said, Rule 2.00 defines the bench or dugout as “the seating facilities reserved for players, substitutes and other team members in uniform when they are not actively engaged on the playing field," and makes no exceptions for managers or anyone else. While the managers’ duds are never addressed anywhere else, this definition does seem to necessitate, in a roundabout way, that managers wear a uniform—at least if they want to have access to the dugout. And, really, where else would they sit?

Have you got a Big Question you'd like us to answer? If so, let us know by emailing us at bigquestions@mentalfloss.com.

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