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Four Different Species Use the Same Odor to Exploit Each Other

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Chemical warfare. Hijacked communications. Stowaways. Eavesdropping. Sounds like the makings of a spy movie, but it’s just another day in nature. 

Plants have got to be fighters in this big bad world. When an animal that wants to eat them comes along to start chowing down, they can’t run or hide. They’ve got to fight back. Some of them have structural defenses like thorns or spines or nettles that jab at herbivores’ mouths. Some have waxy exteriors that make them too slippery for insects to land on, or produce resins and saps that create a sticky trap for bugs.

Others wage chemical warfare, sometimes in a roundabout way. Methyl salicylate (MeSA), also known as wintergreen oil, is produced by some plants when they’re damaged by herbivorous insects. The chemical doesn’t harm the insects directly, but acts like a mayday signal that attracts predatory bugs that come and eat the herbivores. In one case that University of Florida scientists have recently described, it’s also at the center of a web of species trying to exploit each other.

When citrus trees are damaged and release MeSA, it not only attracts helpful bugs, but also a jumping plant louse known as the Asian citrus psyllid (Diaphorina citri, top). The psyllids follow the chemical’s odor because a tree that’s already damaged is a good place to find food, places to lay eggs (which the psyllids can only do in new citrus shoots) and other bugs to mate with. 

Sometimes, though, there’s no meal to be had, because the tree has been infected by a bacterium called Candidatus Liberibacter asiaticus (Las). The psyllids are the bacterium’s primary vector for spreading from tree to tree. When Las infects a tree, it lowers the tree’s nutritional quality and also hijacks its odor production, forcing it to release MeSA as bait. When the psyllids show up and find there’s no less-than-ideal food, they move on in search of another tree—but not before the bacteria cling to them and hitch a ride to their next victim.

A group of entomologists in Florida, led by Xavier Martini, recently found that the trees, lice, and bacteria aren’t using these chemical signals in private, and that there’s another creature eavesdropping on them. The same odor that the lice use to find food, and that the bacteria exploit to lure the lice, also attracts a wasp called Tamarixia radiata. These parasites feed on the bodily fluids of citrus psyllids and also lay their eggs on the undersides of the immature insects. When the eggs hatch, the larvae attach to the psyllid and feed on their hemolymph (kind of the arthropod version of blood) until the host dies. Then, they crawl inside the mummified psyllids, where they’ll develop into adults and eventually break their way back out through the thorax or head. 

Martini and his team discovered that the wasps “eavesdrop” on the chemical cues produced by citrus trees to find their hosts, and were more attracted to the MeSA from Las-infected trees than non-infected trees. At trees where the bacteria was present, the wasps also parasitized five times as many psyllids as they did at the regular trees. 

That the wasps are attracted to the same chemical as the psyllids potentially complicates things for the Las bacteria. Martini found that the wasps sometimes arrive at an infected tree before the psyllids show up, which might drive them away or result in them being killed or parasitized before they can give the bacteria a lift to another tree. Then again, when the wasps show up after psyllids they might actually help the bacteria by causing the psyllids to disperse far and wide, which is exactly what the bacteria need to spread. 

A tree’s “cry for help” not only attracts more danger, but can also be hijacked by bacteria to help them spread infection, while an eavesdropping parasite uses the same odor to find a host that its children turn into a macabre nursery. Ain’t nature grand? 

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Animals
Slow Motion Is the Only Way to Appreciate a Chameleon’s Lightning-Fast Tongue
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From the unusual way they walk, to their ability to change color, the evolutionary adaptations of chameleons are pretty bizarre, and some of them remain mysterious even to scientists. Their super-powered tongues, for instance, can dart out so quickly that the movement can barely be seen with the naked eye. But modern high-speed cameras have enabled researchers at the University of South Dakota to observe this appendage at work like never before. The video below, shared over at The Kid Should See This, includes some of that groundbreaking footage, and it's pretty amazing to watch.

Shooting at 3000 frames per second, the camera was able to capture every split-second aspect of the chameleon's tongue strike. Slowed down, the video allows you to see how every component of the process works in harmony: First, muscles in the lizard’s tongue contract like the string of a bow. Then, when that tension is released, the bony base of the tongue shoots forward, pushing the sticky, elastic part toward the chameleon’s prey.

According to Christopher Anderson, one of the scientists who conducted the high-speed camera research, larger chameleons can catapult their tongues forward at distances of one to two times their body length. For smaller chameleons, this distance can reach up to two and a half times their body length. “Small chameleons need to be able to eat more food for their body size than large chameleons,” he tells bioGraphic in the video, “and so by being able to project their tongues proportionately further than these large species, they basically are opening up additional feeding opportunities to themselves that they wouldn’t have if they had a shorter tongue.”

To see one of nature’s greatest hunting tools in action, check out the full video below.

[h/t The Kid Should See This]

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There May Be an Ancient Reason Why Your Dog Eats Poop
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Dogs aren't known for their picky taste in food, but some pups go beyond the normal trash hunting and start rooting around in poop, whether it be their own or a friend's. Just why dogs exhibit this behavior is a scientific mystery. Only some dogs do it, and researchers aren't quite sure where the impulse comes from. But if your dog is a poop eater, it's nearly impossible to steer them away from their favorite feces.

A new study in the journal Veterinary Medicine and Science, spotted by The Washington Post, presents a new theory for what scientists call "canine conspecific coprophagy," or dogs eating dog poop.

In online surveys about domestic dogs' poop-eating habits completed by thousands of pet owners, the researchers found no link between eating poop and a dog's sex, house training, compulsive behavior, or the style of mothering they received as puppies. However, they did find one common link between the poop eaters. Most tended to eat only poop that was less than two days old. According to their data, 85 percent of poop-eaters only go for the fresh stuff.

That timeline is important because it tracks with the lifespan of parasites. And this led the researchers to the following hypothesis: that eating poop is a holdover behavior from domestic dogs' ancestors, who may have had a decent reason to tuck into their friends' poop.

Since their poop has a high chance of containing intestinal parasites, wolves poop far from their dens. But if a sick wolf doesn't quite make it out of the den in time, they might do their business too close to home. A healthier wolf might eat this poop, but the parasite eggs wouldn't have hatched within the first day or two of the feces being dropped. Thus, the healthy wolf would carry the risk of infection away from the den, depositing the eggs they had consumed away in their own, subsequent bowel movements at an appropriate distance before the eggs had the chance to hatch into larvae and transmit the parasite to the pack.

Domestic dogs may just be enacting this behavior instinctively—only for them, there isn't as much danger of them picking up a parasite at home. However, the theory isn't foolproof. The surveys also found that so-called "greedy eaters" were more likely to eat feces than dogs who aren't quite so intense about food. So yes, it could still be about a poop-loving palate.

But really, it's much more pleasant to think about the behavior as a parasite-protection measure than our best pals foraging for a delicious fecal snack. 

[h/t The Washington Post]

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