A new and bizarre shape-shifting frog

March 29, 2015 • 9:50 am

Instead of going to church today, we can have our special Alain de Botton-Approved Religion Substitute by worshiping at the church of Our Lady of Natural History. There is in fact a wonderful new discovery about frogs, one described in a new paper in the Zoological Journal of the Linnaean Society by Juan Guayasamin et al. (reference and free link below; there’s also a precis in LiveScience).

I can state the results concisely: the authors found a new species of frog in Ecuador that can dramatically change its body shape from spiky to smooth in a matter of only a few minutes.  They then found another species, somewhat but not extremely closely related to the first, that can do the same thing. This kind of change in morphology, induced by the environment, is called phenotypic plasticity. And its observation in the frogs suggests two conclusions:

1. A lot more frogs can do this than have been described, but you need special conditions to see it, so it’s been largely undescribed. Other abilities of amphibians to change shape or color within a short time may also have been missed.

2. Since new frog species are often identified by their appearance after having been collected and pickled in alcohol, there may be described species that are identical to species with other names, but were misidentified because frogs collected at different stages of shape-changing could be mistaken for two different species. This is especially problematic because a large proportion of new species in both invertebrates and vertebrates (18% and 19%, respectively) are described from only a single specimen.

The paper gives other information as well, including genetic data, a phylogenetic analysis of the genus showing how the two shape-shifting species are related,  other genetic information about differences between populations, and a description of the frog’s call and morphology, important for describing it as a new species. But those issues are of more professional interest and need not detain us.

In amphibians, most variation among individuals of a species is in color, but those differences are permanent (like hair and skin color in humans) and don’t change over time. Those traits that do change over time in amphibian species, like crests in newts or tubercules in frogs, change during the breeding season, usually in males as a way to attract mates, and then revert back after the season. They thus change seasonally rather than over just a few minutes, like the frog described in this paper. The rapidity of change in the species is thus novel.

The new species, Pristimantis mutabilis (note the species name!), was first spotted in 2006 in the cloud forests of the Ecuadorian Andes, but its ability to change shape wasn’t detected until three years later. Under normal conditions the frog is spiky, with tubercules and points, but it changes when they’re picked up. As the authors describe in the paper:

All individuals of Prismantis mutabilis presented a markedly tubercular skin texture when found on vegetation or hidden in moss during the night. Large tubercles were evident on the dorsum, upper and lower lips, upper eyelid, arms and legs. After frogs were captured, they all showed a sudden and drastic change in skin texture; all tubercles became reduced in size, and the dorsal skin became smooth or nearly smooth (i.e., few tubercles are visible, mainly on the upper eyelid and heel). When frogs were returned to mossy, wet en- vironments, they recovered a tuberculate skin texture. We speculate that explanatory variables involved in frog skin texture change are stress, humidity, and back-ground. Our observations do not support light availability as a source of texture variation as we observed skin texture change at day and night. The time rate of skin texture variation might depend on the variables mentioned above; we only have one quantitative measure, which is summarized in Figure 2.

Here’s Figure 2: As you can see, the spiky frogs become relatively smooth within five minutes after capture. It’s not yet clear what physiological/biochemical systems are involved in this dramatic change:

Fig_xx_grandisonae_photos

Here are two more pictures of individuals changing:

In this photo, from Figure 3, a sub-adult male is first photographed in its natural habitat (A) and then in the laboratory (B). You can see the change very clearly:

Screen Shot 2015-03-29 at 8.28.26 AM

And here’s one more with the caption from the paper. These are small frogs, ranging in snout-vent length between 17 and 23 mm (0.7-0.9 inches):

Screen Shot 2015-03-28 at 8.35.04 AM

The authors also identified another species that does the same thing: a congener (frog in the same genus) named Prismantes sobetes. Since the two shape-shifting species are not closely related—a phylogeny shows many other species are more closely related to either than the two are to each other—either the ability to change body texture has evolved twice, or it’s present in some of the intervening species since it evolved in a common ancestor, or it is the remnant of a feature in their common ancestor that has been lost in all other species in the group. Since we don’t know about the abilities of those other species to shape-shift, more work is needed to distinguish among these explanations.

This leaves one big question: Why on earth do the frogs do this? Let’s assume as a working hypothesis that the shape change is an evolved one, and that individuals that could change shape had a selective advantage in the ancestral lineage. (It’s also possible that this is simply a nonadaptive physiological response to stress.) The authors suggest, probably correctly, that the tubercles and spiky appearance help camouflage the frog in the cloud forest, where it often sits among moss, vegetation, and epiphytes (plants growing on other plants); and they also raise one possibility for how they change their shape:

We suggest that skin plasticity is associated with environmental camouflage rather than sexual selection or dimorphism. Pristimantis mutabilis and P. sobetes are geographically distributed in montane cloud forest habitats that are abundant in epiphytes, vegetation, and moss. In these habitats, skin texture that has the appearance of moss or detritus likely conceals the individual from visual predators, such as birds and arachnids. While the physiological mechanisms of how texture changes in such a short time are unknown, we speculate that it could involve allocation of more or less water to existing small structures (e.g. warts and tubercles) on the skin.

But what’s missing here is an explanation for the change itself, which I can’t find in the paper. That is, why do they change from the presumably camouflaged shape to a smooth shape? And here I, who have no knowledge about amphibians, come up short. Perhaps being smooth helps you escape from predators if you’re caught, or helps the frogs jump better.  Experiments (some of them involving predation!) could help settle this.  I suspect some readers who know more about frogs than I (I’m looking at you, Lou Jost) can suggest evolutionary reasons why shape-shifting may be adaptive.  Please give your suggestions in the comments.

__________

Guayasmin, J. M. et al. 2015. Phenotypic plasticity raises questions for taxonomically important traits: a remarkable new Andean rainfrog (Pristimantis) with the ability to change skin texture.  Zool. J. Linnaean Soc. 173:913-928.

h/t: Barry

Readers’ wildlife photos

September 1, 2014 • 3:44 am

We’ll start with three raptor photos from Stephen Barnard in Idaho, and then proceed to the cats.

First we have a Swainson’s hawk (Buteo swainsoni):

Swainson's

Then a red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis):

Red-tailed

And a Northern Harrier (Circus cyaneus):

RT9A2826

Reader John sent some cheetah photos and notes (indented):

Following your recent call for photographs I decided to dig out some of a feline variety. The attached were taken in 2004 in South Africa’s Kruger National Park. The Kruger is SA’s largest ‘park’ at 20,000km2 – about the size of New Jersey. Its size means that it doesn’t have the feel of a park and if you wander of the beaten track, you can spend many hours exploring the bush or siting by waterholes without seeing many other visitors. The trip was not long after I made the switch to a Canon 300D, an early digital SLR; up to that point having been reluctant to discard traditional film.  The sharp eyed will notice I hadn’t quite got to grips with the auto focus.

This Cheetah crossed a dirt track in front of our vehicle and then spent some time in a small tree sharpening its claws whilst also keeping a watchful eye on us.

2004-12-19_Kruger National Park_Cheetah_Coyne-0002

It then wandered into the scrub, which was quite lush because it was December and the rainy season. Shortly afterwards it reappeared from the bush and walked slowly alongside the track as we inched our vehicle along and took photographs.

2004-12-19_Kruger National Park_Cheetah_Coyne-0006

It was clearly mindful of our presence but otherwise carried on as usual including regularly marking its territory.

2004-12-19_Kruger National Park_Cheetah_Coyne-0005

Later during the same holiday my daughter was lucky enough to enter an enclosure and spend some time petting a Cheetah!

(Professor Ceiling Cat doesn’t ever get to do that. . . )

2004-12-23_South Africa-0068_Wilderness_Alex Cheetah

 I’ve been lucky enough to see wild cheetah a number of times but sadly, on a trip to the Okavango in 1988, I have also seen the darker side with Cheetah skins hanging in a tannery in Maun. I’ll spare you the depressing image.

 

The grasping reflex of babies: a vestigial trait?

April 8, 2014 • 11:56 am

This is the type of post I originally intended to publish on this website, and the only type of post, for the website was created, at the behest of my editor at Viking/Penguin, to support my book WEIT. My idea then was to post a bit of cool evidence for evolution every few weeks or so. Then things got out of hand. . . But today we are back to the original mission.

One of the pieces of evidence I use for evolution, in both my book and my undergraduate classes, is the presence of vestigial traits. And there are some nice behavioral ones. I wiggle my ears for my students, which they love, but I do it to demonstrate our vestigial ear muscles, useless in modern humans but adaptive in our relatives, which can move their ears widely to localize sounds. (Check out your cat when it hears something.)

Humans have another vestigial behavior: the “grasping reflex” (also called the “palmar reflex”). Young infants can hold onto objects with both their hands and their feet—and hold tightly and tenaciously. They lose this behavior—which is instinctive, prompted by inserting a finger or a stick in their hands or feet—a few months after birth.

While we’re not 100% sure what it represents, I’d bet that it’s a genetic holdover from our ancestry as hairier primates. (Remember: we’re the only “naked apes.”) In primate species, the young are carried about by hanging onto their mother’s fur with both hands and feet, and they keep this behavior throughout infancy. Their ability to hold on is important for their survival.

Humans aren’t hairy, and aren’t carried about by clinging to their mother’s fur. But we still, at least for a short period, show genetically-based behaviors that testify to our descent from furrier creatures.

Here are some photos of the daughter of a friend. This one shows the grasping reflex at 7 days of age. Note that  she’s holding on so hard that her fingers are white!

7 days

I took this one about three days later, showing the grasping reflex of the pedal extremities:
Grasping reflex

For years I tried to persuade my friends who had infants to let them hang from broomsticks (I have a drawing of this behavior in an evolution textbook from the 1920s), so I could photograph it or make a video. But for some reason they always refused, even though I claimed that one can do this safely: just put the infant over your lap or a bunch of pillows. No dice.

But I was recently shown this video from the 1930s showing two infants “competing” to see who can hang the longest. Here are the YouTube notes:

Fragment of “Johnny and Jimmy” (twins), a silent film by Myrtle McGraw, recorded in 1932. from McGraw, M.B. (1975). Growth: A study of Johnny and Jimmy. New York: Arno Press. [1935]

One baby makes it for only 4 seconds (what a wimp!), but the other is still hanging after 37 seconds! I love the blotting out of the genitals.

Here’s a more recent video in which the infants are suspended more humanely. The genitalic blur has also been made spiffier: it’s now a fig leaf.

This isn’t the only primitive reflex displayed by human infants. Wikipedia has a whole list of them (the foot-closing is called the “plantar reflex”), and you might amuse yourself by speculating about which of them might have been adaptive in the infants of our ancestors, and why.

Why are there no more large flying birds?

February 6, 2014 • 6:33 am

by Matthew Cobb

As is well known, Professor Ceiling Cat can’t be doing with Tw*tter. Here’s yet another example of why he’s wrong, and should learn that that micro-bl*gging site is not just for knowing what celebrities had for breakfast or for launching cyber lynch mobs.

I was listening to Radio 4’s ‘Tweet of the Day’ this morning at 05:58. It featured the bizarre call of the Great Bustard (it sounds roughly like someone blowing their nose and farting at the same time). The Great Bustard is a large bird that was hunted to extinction in the UK, but has recently been reintroduced and is now successfully breeding. Chris Packham, who did the commentary, claimed that at 16 kg the Great Bustard is one of the heaviest extant flying birds.

This struck me – 16 kg isn’t much. Is this an absolute limit to flying? What about those pterosaurs – some of them were HUGE. How come they got so big and flying birds don’t? What’s the upper limit on the weight of a flying animal?

So I got out my iPad and tweeted @TetZoo aka Darren Naish, who knows about all things tetrapod. (I got the weight wrong. It was early in the morning. This caused some confusion, as you’ll see.)

tw1

Both Darren and Dave Hone, another pterosaur expert chipped intw3

tw5

tw6

tw7Tw2

The ‘different take-off’ caught my eye. I know there’s been a suggestion that pterosaurs lived on cliffs, so could simply soar without having to take off from the ground (the modern swift, hardly a chunky bird, can’t take off from the ground). But some pterosaurs would dive and eat fish – how did they take off from the sea?:

tw15

Dave replied:

tw4

Darren had to set the record straight regarding bustard weight, when David Watson rightly questioned my figure:tw10tw13

tw14

Then Mike Habib joined in and pointed out:

tw12

Then he asked the Big Questiontw8

Tommy Leung chipped in:

tw9tw11
[JAC comment: Why is Habib so sure that “birds and bats can’t get giant pterosaur size”?]

So, as in most interesting questions, the answer to ‘Why are there no large flying birds now’ appears to be ‘We don’t know’.

Any ideas?

[JAC comment 2: I doubt this demonstrates that I’m wrong about Tw**ter. All that scientific brainpower results in the verdict that “we don’t know”?? They might as well have tw**ted what they had for breakfast!]

Links: Dave and Mike’s piece on how pterosaurs took off, the PLoS One paper from Mark Witton and Mike Habib, looking at whether giant pterosaurs could fly, cited by Darren.

An unusual antipredator defense

December 16, 2013 • 8:38 am

Yesterday, reader Roo sent me the Torygraph‘s photo of the day, which is an assassin bug. The caption is below (I’m not sure why they use the past tense):

These ruthless Assassin bugs hid from potential predators using a camouflage cloak – made from the bodies of ants they had killed. The deadly insects paralysed the ants by injecting them with a toxic enzyme before sucking them dry. They then piled the dried-out corpses on their sticky backs to act as a defence against other predators, such as jumping spiders. Picture: Guek Hock Ping/Photoshot/Solent News

Picture 1

Note that assassin bugs (unlike “ladybugs,” which are beetles in the order Coleoptera) really are bugs : they’re in the order Hemiptera, or “true bugs.” (If I want readers to learn anything from this site, it’s to use the word “bug” properly!) They’re also in the order Reduviidae, some of whose New World species—probably not the one above—carry the protozoans that cause Chagas disease, an often asymptomatic but sometimes fatal illness. For many years people thought that Darwin had been infected with Chagas on his Beagle voyage, accounting for his frequent and lifelong bouts of illness, including malaise and vomiting. We’ll never know for sure, for doctors have suggested many other causes, ranging from simple nervousness to the latest Darwin-illness fad, cyclical vomiting syndrome.

Assassin bugs are so called because they stick their snout (“rostrum,” if you want to be technical) into the prey, injecting a saliva that liquifies the prey’s insides. They then suck it dry.

It’s interesting to speculate how this evolved. This adaptation (and who can deny that it is one?) involves both a morphological trait (a sticky back) and a behavioral trait (the tendency to put the husks of your prey onto your back). Without that sticky back, you have no initial advantage, so I suspect that the evolution of this mimicry began simply because the bug had a back that could adhere to dead insects, perhaps because of cuticular lipids that served other functions, like desiccation resistance or attracting mates. Perhaps a prey accidentally adhered to one of the bugs with a particularly sticky back, and that individual gained an advantage, as it was simply harder to attack and eat. This would give an advantage to genes producing not only stickier backs, but also  promoting any tendency to place sucked-out prey on your back.  I am curious whether the ant carcasses are inherently sticky too—as they appear to adhere to each other—or whether the bug actually puts something on them to help them stick together.

But this is all speculation. What is on firmer ground is the idea (still probably not demonstrated through experiment) that this is a remarkable adaptation to deter predation. I wouldn’t call it “mimicry” (unless predators avoid piles of dead ants), for this ant-covered bug isn’t really deceiving the predator by “pretending” to be something else. It’s simply making it harder for predators to grasp and eat them.

No. 2, The Killdeer

August 10, 2013 • 1:49 pm

by Greg Mayer

Ground nesting birds are more vulnerable to predation of both themselves and their eggs because the ground is accessible to a larger variety of predators than are nests built in trees. There are a number of ways of dealing with this. One is for the bird, its eggs, or both, to have concealing coloration. This is very common, and such cases constitute a large class of examples in the classic work establishing the principles of adaptive coloration.

I saw this myself recently during a stop in New Madrid, Missouri, where I heard a bird yelling in my ear. But it took some time to find the bird.

A killdeer (Charadrius vociferus) on its nest in New Madrid, Missouri, 26 July 2013. Can you find it?
A killdeer (Charadrius vociferus) on its nest in New Madrid, Missouri, 26 July 2013. Can you find it?

Eventually I did spot it (I had binoculars), sitting on the ground. A second killdeer was running about on the grass not far away.

Killdeer on its nest.
Killdeer on its nest.

As I approached, it did not attempt to lead me away in a distraction display (which killdeer will do), but once I was close enough it stood up and displayed its more strikingly marked tail feathers, although not as vigorously as did one photographed by a WEIT reader earlier this summer.

Killdeer tail display.
Killdeer tail display.

According to the Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology, which of the two possible displays is used—distraction (which leads the interloper away from the nest), or tail (which alerts the interloper to the location of the nest)—depends on the nature of the interloper. If perceived as a predator, the distraction display is used to lead the predator away; but if perceived as a blundering ungulate (bison in the old days), the tail display is used to make an annoying spot on the ground that the ungulate will walk around (rather than on top of). So, she perceived me as a lumbering, dumb, brute, rather than an egg predator; clever girl!

There were two eggs, both camouflaged with dapples and spots, and no apparent nesting materials, but I didn’t want to bother her enough to move her off the nest to get pictures of the eggs.

Another common way of dealing with the problems of a ground nest is to use a less accessible piece of ground, such as an island or a cliff, as the nesting site. Seabirds frequently do one or both of these. In my part of Wisconsin, Canada geese have become cliff nesters over the past twenty years, building their nests on ledges and roofs of buildings, a behavioral change that has resulted in a huge increase in nesting success and nest abundance. It would be interesting to determine how much of this new nesting behavior is an evolved adaptation or part of a learned repertoire.

________________________________________________________________

Cott, H.B. 1940. Adaptive Coloration in Animals. Methuen, London.

E. O. Wilson mistakenly touts group selection (again) as a key factor in human evolution

February 26, 2013 • 9:43 am

As most of you know, Edward O. Wilson is one of the world’s most famous and accomplished biologists.  He was the founder of evolutionary psychology (known as “sociobiology” back then), author of two Pulitzer-Prize-winning books, one of the world’s great experts on ants, an ardent advocate for biological conservation, and a great natural historian. His legacy in the field is secure.

So it’s sad to see him, at the end of his career, repeatedly flogging a discredited theory (“group selection”: evolution via the differential propagation and extinction of groups rather than genes or individuals) as the most important process of evolutionary change in humans and other social species. Let me back up: group selection is not “discredited,” exactly; rather, it’s not thought to be an important force in evolution.  There’s very little evidence that any trait (in fact, I can’t think of one, including cooperation) has evolved via the differential proliferation of groups.

In contrast, there is a ton of evidence for an alternative explanation for cooperation: kin selection, the selection of genes based on how they affect not just the fitness of the individual, but the fitness of relatives that share its genes.  Features like parental behavior, parent-offspring conflict, sibling rivalry, and preferential dispensing of favor to relatives, as well as features like sex ratios in insects—all of these are all easily explained by kin selection.  And many aspects of cooperation can easily be explained by individual selection: individuals that live in small groups, especially those in which one can recognize group members, can evolve cooperation as an individual good based on reciprocity: the “I scratch your back, you scratch mine” hypothesis.  And, as I’ve discussed before, the cooperative and “altruistic” behavior seen in our own species shows many features suggesting that it evolved via individual or kin selection and not group selection.

I’ve covered this issue many times (e.g., here, here, here, here, and here), so I won’t go over the arguments again. Wilson’s “theory” that group selection is more important than kin selection in the evolution of social behavior (published in Nature with Martin Nowak and Corina Tarnita) was criticized strongly by 156 scientists—including virtually every luminary in social evolution—in five letters to the editor, and sentiment about the importance of group selection has, if anything, decreased since Wilson’s been pushing it.

But Wilson persists, to the detriment of his reputation. In a new piece at the New York Times “Opinionator” site, “The riddle of the human species,” Wilson continues to make the same argument that group (or “multilevel”) selection was a key force in making humans (and social insects) the socially complicated species they are.  Since his arguments are virtually identical to those published in NYT Opinionator piece last June, and in his book The Social Conquest of Earth (see part of my review here), I won’t dissect them in detail. I just want to highlight three points that I think make Wilson’s argument for group selection—and against kin selection—deeply misleading. I wouldn’t spend my time writing time-consuming critiques like this were Wilson not famous, influential, and given a big public forum in the New York Times. Someone has to address his arguments!

Here are Wilson’s errors (quotes indented), and my responses:

1. Wilson: Humans are a “eusocial species”:

. . the known eusocial species arose very late in the history of life. It appears to have occurred not at all during the great Paleozoic diversification of insects, 350 to 250 million years before the present, during which the variety of insects approached that of today. Nor is there as yet any evidence of eusocial species during the Mesozoic Era until the appearance of the earliest termites and ants between 200 and 150 million years ago. Humans at the Homo level appeared only very recently, following tens of millions of years of evolution among the primates.

My response:  “Eusociality” as defined by Wilson and every other evolutionist is the condition in which a species has a reproductive and social division of labor: eusocial species have “castes” that do different tasks, with a special reproductive caste (“queens”) that do all the progeny producing, and “worker castes” that are genetically sterile and do the tending of the colony. Such species include Hymenoptera (ants, wasps and bees, though not all species are eusocial), termites, naked mole rats, and some other insects.

But humans don’t have reproductive castes, nor genetically determined worker castes.  Wilson is going against biological terminology, lumping humans with ants as “eusocial,” so he can apply his own theories of “altruism” in social insects (i.e., workers “unselfishly” help their mothers produce offspring while refraining themselves from reproducing), to humans. But human cooperation and altruism are very different from the behavior of ants, most notably in our absence of genetic castes and genetically-based sterility associated with helping others reproduce. Human females aren’t sterile, and don’t usually refrain from reproduction just to help other women have babies.  My guess is that Wilson lumps humans with insects as “eusocial” because he wants to subsume them both under a Grand Theory of Social Evolution.

2. Wilson: Kin selection doesn’t work, ergo it certainly couldn’t have played a role in the evolution of eusociality and human cooperation.

Still, to recognize the rare coming together of cooperating primates is not enough to account for the full potential of modern humans that brain capacity provides. Evolutionary biologists have searched for the grandmaster of advanced social evolution, the combination of forces and environmental circumstances that bestowed greater longevity and more successful reproduction on the possession of high social intelligence. At present there are two competing theories of the principal force. The first is kin selection: individuals favor collateral kin (relatives other than offspring) making it easier for altruism to evolve among members of the same group. Altruism in turn engenders complex social organization, and, in the one case that involves big mammals, human-level intelligence.

The second, more recently argued theory (full disclosure: I am one of the modern version’s authors), the grandmaster is multilevel selection. This formulation recognizes two levels at which natural selection operates: individual selection based on competition and cooperation among members of the same group, and group selection, which arises from competition and cooperation between groups. Multilevel selection is gaining in favor among evolutionary biologists because of a recent mathematical proof that kin selection can arise only under special conditions that demonstrably do not exist, and the better fit of multilevel selection to all of the two dozen known animal cases of eusocial evolution.

My response:  There is so much fail here I don’t know where to start.  The first paragraph is basically correct except that Wilson omits “individual selection” along with “kin selection” as an accepted evolutionary process that can promote the evolution of cooperation. As I mentioned, selection on individuals in small groups can allow the evolution of cooperation without any need to invoke the unparsimonious process of differential group survival based on genes.

Wilson’s claim that the “special conditions of kin selection” demonstrably do not exist is an egregious and (I think) willful misstatement.  Kin selection can cause evolution whenever the genes in an individual benefit relatives that share copies of that individual’s genes, and can do so whenever the benefit of that behavior to the recipients, devalued by their degree of relatedness to the donor (a figure usually ranging between 0 and 1, but which can be related if an individual helps another less related to it than the average member of the population) is greater than the reproductive cost to the donor.  (“Hamilton’s rule”: rb > c.) That is known to obtain in many cases, and explains things like parental care, parent-offspring conflict, sex ratios in insects, and many other features (see the five letters in Nature mentioned above, which list some features of social behavior that clearly evolved by kin rather than group selection).

The mathematical “proof” given by Nowak et al. does not show that group selection is a better explanation than kin selection for social behavior in insects, for their “proof” does not vary the level of kinship, as it must if it could allow that conclusion.

The second egregious and false claim in this paragraph (a paragraph that’s the highlight of the piece) is that “multilevel selection is gaining in favor among evolutionary biologists” because of the Nowak et al. paper. That’s simply not true.  The form of multilevel selection adumbrated in that paper is, to my knowledge, embraced by exactly four people: the three authors of the paper and David Sloan Wilson. There is, and has been, no increase in acceptance of group or multilevel selection in the past ten years. The Nowak et al. paper has sunk without a stone, except to incite criticism by other biologists and excitement by an uncomprehending press.

3. Wilson: Eusociality in insects arose not via kin selection, but via the initial construction of a defended nest site.

The history of eusociality raises a question: given the enormous advantage it confers, why was this advanced form of social behavior so rare and long delayed? The answer appears to be the special sequence of preliminary evolutionary changes that must occur before the final step to eusociality can be taken. In all of the eusocial species analyzed to date, the final step before eusociality is the construction of a protected nest, from which foraging trips begin and within which the young are raised to maturity. The original nest builders can be a lone female, a mated pair, or a small and weakly organized group. When this final preliminary step is attained, all that is needed to create a eusocial colony is for the parents and offspring to stay at the nest and cooperate in raising additional generations of young. Such primitive assemblages then divide easily into risk-prone foragers and risk-averse parents and nurses.

My response:  Phylogenetic studies show that eusociality in Hymenoptera always originated in species whose females mated only once: this is a statistically significant result.  And that alone militates for kin selection as an important factor in eusociality: if a female founds a colony consisting only of full siblings (as is the case when she mated only once), they are more related to each other than if she had mated multiply. In the later case, colonies would consist of half-sisters or even more distant relatives, making kin selection less efficient.

Further, relatedness is high in virtually every species of eusocial insect with the exception of a few highly derived species of ants that have many queens.  The connection between relatedness and eusociality is exactly what we expect if kin selection is important in social evolution, and is not expected if Wilson’s nest-based group selection was important. The model of Nowak et al., which starts with the construction of such nests by single females who stay in the nests with their offspring, produces precisely the condition in which relatedness can promote the evolution of sterility and cooperation.  They argue that this relatedness is a consequence of their model and not a cause of eusocial evolution, but that’s unconvincing, for they do not vary the level of initial relatedness in their model.

*****

Wilson’s claim, the theme of his newest book, is that humans are both angels and devils: we are both selfish and cooperative species, and this combination of good and bad is what makes our species unique. (That’s not true, of course, because many species show that mixture of behavior. Lions, for instance, cooperate when hunting, but when males take over a pride they immediately kill all the female’s cubs, which are unrelated to them. And that, by the way, is due to kin selection, because those cub-killing males replace the cubs with new cubs containing their own genes, including the genes for killing cubs. Cub-killing could have evolved only by individual selection and not group selection, for while killing another male’s cubs is good for an individual, it’s bad for the group, forcing females to waste reproductive energy.)

Yes, we have both selfish and cooperative behaviors, though most of our “cooperative” behaviors that didn’t arise through culture arose through forms of selection that involve maximizing our reproductive output—individual and kin selection.  There is not a scintilla of evidence, in humans or any other species, that group selection has been responsible for the evolution of any adaptation.  In contrast, individual and kin selection have productively explained the evolution of “problematic” traits like altruism and cooperation. They have been tested and work.

Why does Wilson keep writing article and article, and book after book, promoting group selection? I’m not a psychologist, so I don’t know the answer. What I do know, though, is that his seeming monomaniacal concentration on a weakly-supported form of evolution can serve only to erode his reputation.  His theories have not gained traction in the scientific community. That doesn’t mean that they’re wrong, for, in the end, scientific truth is decided by experiment and observation, not by the numbers of people initially on each side of an issue. But the facts of science already show that Wilson is unlikely to be correct. What is sad is that, as a great natural historian, he doesn’t recognize this.

Wilson’s reputation is secure. It’s sad to see it tarnished by ill-founded arguments for an unsubstantiated evolutionary process.

h/t: Phil Ward, Laurence Hurst