Why Evolution is True is a blog written by Jerry Coyne, centered on evolution and biology but also dealing with diverse topics like politics, culture, and cats.
Seahorses (Hippocampus spp.) which are fish, have an unusual reproductive system. The males get “pregnant”, meaning that they carry the eggs, which are deposited in the male’s pouch by the female and then fertilized there. (Note: this doesn’t mean that seahorse males are “females”, or that there are more than two sexes!) We don’t really know why males gestate the eggs, but we do know that females produce eggs faster than males can gestate them. This means that, unlike most animals, females compete for the attention of males. Here’s a birth; National Geographic says that 2,000 babies are being born. Wikipedia says that the babies can be as few as 5 or as many as 25.
That’s your biology of the day; and I am sorry that for the next few days I won’t be posting much.
Enjopy this one-minute video of a largehead hairtail (Trichiurus lepturus), the “liquid metal fish”, also called the “beltfish”. As you can see, it’s a predator, and it’s gone some set of choppers. Its metallic color apparently camouflages it from prey. And look at that dorsal fin!
Some info from Wikipedia (their bolding):
The largehead hairtail (Trichiurus lepturus) or beltfish is a member of the cutlassfish family, Trichiuridae. This common to abundant species is found in tropical and temperate oceans throughout the world. The taxonomy is not fully resolved, and the Atlantic, East Pacific and Northwest Pacific populations are also known as Atlantic cutlassfish, Pacific cutlassfish and Japanese cutlassfish, respectively. This predatory, elongated fish supports major fisheries.
I wish they wouldn’t hold these things so long out of the water, as it makes them suffer. And I hope even more that they didn’t kill it.
I am not particularly keen on seeing fish catching birds—or, indeed, seeing any animals eaten by others—but of cours that’s the way Nature works. So here we see a 6½-minute BBC Earth video showing terns in the Indian Ocean becoming possible meals for giant trevally (Caranx ignobilis). It’s natural selection, Jake! But I’m still glad that the bird in the last segment escapes.
Today’s photos are from California tidepools and were taken by UC Davis math professor Abigail Thompson, a recognized “hero of intellectual freedom.” Abby’s notes and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.
September and October tides are not as extreme as the tides of midsummer, and by mid-October the lowest tides occur after sunset, which altogether makes finding creatures and taking pictures a bit more challenging. As usual I got help with some of the IDs from people on inaturalist.
Phyllocomus hiltoni: this Doctor-Suessian marine worm washed up on the beach in a clump of eelgrass. It was tiny; the photo is through a microscope. I already thought it was amazing, but then (see the next picture) as a bonus it also sprouted tentacles:
Phyllocomus hiltoni with frills!
Porychthis notatus: these tiny fish showed up when I turned over a rock. They were very small, I assume newly-hatched:
Porychthis notatus: close-up:
Anthopleura sola (starburst anemone), one of the more spectacular sea anemones:
Phragmatopoma californica(California sandcastle worm): These worms often live in groups and form large conglomerations of the tubes they live in (the “sandcastles”). The black shell-like thing on the left is the worm’s operculum, like a lid to close off the top of the tube when the worm withdraws. The next picture is a close-up of the operculum:
Operculum close-up:
Triopha maculata: nudibranch; this one looks like he’s eating the pink bryozoan, but he may just be passing over it, I’m not sure what this species eats (nudibranchs are very picky eaters):
Epiactis prolifera (brooding anemone: probably): there are a few species of Epiactis sea anemones along the California coast; prolifera is the most common:
Halosydna brevisetosa: Eighteen-scaled worm, found on the underside of a rock. There are 18 pairs of scales, with a close-up of them in the next picture.
Close-up of scales:
Low tide on this day was about an hour after sunset, which is a lovely time to be out on the beach:
Camera info: Mostly Olympus TG-7, in microscope mode, pictures taken from above the water. The first picture was taken with my iphone through the eyepiece of a microscope.
Today we have a set of tide-pool photos taken by UC Davis math professor Abigail Thompson (see here for more information). Abby’s words and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge her photos by clicking on them.
July-August tidepools (Northern California). The seaweeds (lots of kelp) are at their height, so it gets harder to see things in late summer, but they’re all lurking underneath. Help with IDs from people on inaturalist, particularly on the third, ninth, and eleventh photo.
Anthopleura artemisia: I posted a couple of these before; they come in all colors/patterns:
Patiria miniata: bat star; they also have very variable coloring, but Ilike these bright orange ones. Their skin (next picture) has particularly lovely patterning:
Close-up of Patiria miniate skin:
Mopalia lionota: a chiton. There are lots of different species of these around here, and distinguishing them is tricky. One way to do it is by looking closely at the edges. In this one, you can see feathery bits sticking out, which help with ID (but no expert has confirmed the ID, so this is a best guess):
Clinocottus globiceps (probably): this isn’t a great picture, but it’s a behavior I hadn’t been aware of until I started looking at tidepools. This fish is sitting, perfectly happily, well above the water line. Several species do this all the time at low tide, apparently just waiting until the tide comes back in:
Genus Manania: this is a “stalked jelly”, a jellyfish that is attached to something (in this case a piece of seaweed). These are hard to find, being practically invisible against the seaweed, and quite small (the bell is about ½”). The reason the species isn’t known here is because it seems genuinely uncertain whether or not there is an “extra” species along the Pacific coast which hasn’t been described. If there is, this is one of those:
Flatfish, in the order Pleuronectiformes, have long been an evolutionary puzzle, for all the fish in this order lie on the substrate—on their sides—with both eyes on one side of their body, like the flounder below:
Phylogenetic analysis shows that flatfish evolved from “regular” fish, fish having one eye on each side and swimming vertically, that evolved over time to lie on their sides. The bizarre thing about this evolution is that it involved genetic changes so that “normal” fish had their eyes move over the top of their head so that both eyes look upwards. Their skin changes color and texture, too, with the top half colored, as above, and the bottom half pale.
And all flatfish begin their development like “normal fish”, swimming vertically and having one eye on each side of the head. Then, as the fish gets older, one eye migrates over the top of the skull to the other side! (You can see that in the video below.)
When the eyes are both on one side, the flatfish tip onto their sides and spend the rest of their adult life lying on one side. (The side varies among species: some have 100% right-sided individuals, others 100% left-sided, and some species are random, with half of the individuals having the right eye move over (and lying on their right side), and the other half having the left eye move.
Living on the substrate like this, and often camouflaged as the flounder above, is an advantage for the fish, both protecting them from predators and, since they are predatory piscivores (fish eaters), hiding from their prey.
Here’s a video of the development of a young flatfish, showing the eye migration. Since the ancestor had both eyes on one side, like the young flatfish, this is a case of “ontogeny recapitulating phylogeny”—that is, the development of a single living fish goes through a process mimicking the evolution of their adult ancestors.
But since the weird developmental pathway is presumably an adaptation that evolved by (presumably stepwise) natural selection, two big questions immediately arise:
What were the intermediate evolutionary stages of eye migration?
What were the evolutionary advantages of this migration, which presumably involved a gradual evolutionary movement of the eye from the side to the top of the head, and then over the head to the other side? It’s hard to see how, for example, an eye that’s halfway around, so it’s close to the top of the skull but hasn’t moved to the other side, could leave more offspring, or survive better, than their ancestors. What would be the advantage of each small step of the migration?
It’s hard to envision a gradual Darwinian process that could produce this migration. As Carl Zimmer wrote in a new NYT article that summarizes recent flatfish findings (click below), Darwin’s critics used both questions about to cast doubt on his theory. In response, some “saltationists”, who assumed that major evolutionary changes occurred in one huge step rather than a series of gradual steps, said that a single mutation moved the eye from one side to the other. (But that would not be advantageous unless the fish had already evolved to lie on its side!)
Click below to read the Zimmer piece in the NYT here (the drawing is animated), or find it archived here.
As Carl reports, there was another weird finding that now seems doubtful: a 2001 paper by a group of Chinese researchers who, using DNA=based family trees, seemed to show that flatfish evolved twice. You can see that paper in Nature Genetics by clicking on the headline below, or read the pdf here. The discovery that flatfish seemed to be “polyphyletic”—with more than one evolutionarily independent origin—was deeply weird, because the hormone-induced eye migration, which is extraordinarily complex, would have had to evolve twice. It’s not impossible, but seemed unlikely. One of the doubters was evolutionist Matt Friedman, who got his Ph.D. here and is now a professor at the University of Michigan and director of its Museum of Paleontology.
A while back, when he was still at Chicago, Friedman published what I see as the most interesting of the three papers highlighted here. This one was in Nature, and you can read it by clicking below or seeing the pdf here
Note that this paper was a lot of work, and yet, unlike the others, Friedman was the sole author. I love to see single-person research efforts like this. That aside, what Friedman found were two fossil evolutionary intermediates between adult “normal” fishes (the presumed ancestors of flatfish) and modern flatfishes, having both eyes on one side. Friedman reanalyzed a neglected species, Amphistium paradoxum, and a described a new fossil fish, Heteronectes chaneti, both from the lower Eocene, about 50 million years ago.
Amazingly, both species (the former randomly sided and the latter lying on its left side) showed an intermediate placement of the eyes in the adult fish. Both eyes were on the same side of a vertically-oriented fish, but one eye had migrated upwards toward the top of the skull, so that the fish could presumably see both to the side and also, perhaps, a bit above them. Thus we have two evolutionary intermediates of the adult stage, likely showing that the eye movement did not occur in one big evolutionary leap.
Here’s a photo from the 2008 paper of the left and right sides of the H. chaneti skull, showing the eye sockets, which I’ve circled. The asymmetry is obvious:
(from the paper): a, Heteronectes chaneti gen. et sp. nov., holotype, NHMW 1974.1639.25 (dextral morph); transfer preparation dusted with ammonium chloride and presented in right-lateral view. b, Counterpart, NHMW 1974.1639.24; transfer preparation dusted with ammonium chloride and presented in left-lateral view, showing migrated orbit.
And a reconstruction of the Amphistium species, showing both sides. The asymmetry is again clear, but the eyes of the adults are still on opposite sides of the head:
(From the paper): b, Reconstruction of Amphistium, showing sinistral (front) and dextral (back) individuals in the left lateral view (modified from ref. 20)
You’ve probably realized that this addresses question #1 above, showing that the movement was presumably gradual over evolutionary time, though we need more fossils to show that it was a continuous series of small steps. But at least the movement didn’t seem to involve one big leap.
But that leaves question #2, which I’ll address in a moment.
The reason Zimmer’s note came out now, though the papers above date from 2008 and 2021, is that a group of authors recently published another DNA based analysis in Nature Genetics showing that the Chinese group was probably wrong: flatfishes and their eye movements seem to have had a single evolutionary origin. (The Chinese group maintains that their “polyphyly” conclusion is still the best one.)
Before returning to the Big Unsolved Question, I’ll show the phylogeny advanced in the 2001 paper (bottom), showing two origins of flattening and eye migration, and the newer analysis by Duarte-Ribiero et al. at the top (Friedman is the third author), showing a single origin of flatfish (I’ve circled it). This newer paper also singles out some genes that, showing signs of selection in their DNA sequence, may be involved in the evolutionary transformation, but I’ll leave that issue aside. Green silhouettes are flatfish, black are nonflat fish.
(Part of it from paper): (From paper, and there’s more): a, FM tree estimated using LEA’s dataset with ASTRAL under an NHM (GHOST) of nucleotide substitution (see Supplementary Note 2 for details on time calibration). b, FP tree illustrates the phylogenetic hypothesis and divergence times proposed by LE
Now for the big mystery. How could there possibly be an evolutionary advantage to each step of the eye movement? Presumably the adult either laid on its side or swam “normally”, and what would be the advantage of intermediate stages when the eye gradually moved up, across the top of the skull, and settling on the other side? The movement is presumably advantageous only when the fish is already on its side, but then what would be the advantage of moving a few mm towards the top of the skull?
Well, perhaps the fish didn’t lie fully on its side. Here’s one clue in a quote from the 2008 paper:
Questions about the possible selective advantage of incomplete orbital transit arise from the discovery of stem flatfishes. Clues are given by living taxa, which often prop their bodies above the substrate by depressing their dorsal- and anal-fin rays. Similar behaviour might have permitted Amphistium and Heteronectes—both of which have long median-fin rays—the use of both eyes while on the sea floor. The unusual morphology and resting orientation of pleuronectiforms have been interpreted as adaptations for prey ambus, and it is clear that stem flatfishes, like morphologically primitive living forms, were piscivorous; one specimen of Amphistium (MCSNV V.D.91+92) contains the remains of a fish nearly half its own length.
So perhaps this happened: a normal ancestor, through behavioral evolution, adapted to hanging around the sea bottom, as they were less conspicuous and could get more prey. But they’d have a more difficult time seeing upwards with eyes on both sides of the head. Movements of the eyes toward the top of the skull could be advantageous so long as they occurred in concert with behavioral changes (first perhaps learned, then evolved) involving propping themselves up with their fins. The advantage of tilting a bit would be that the fish might become a bit less conspicuous.
This whole scenario, as I proposed it (and I’m sure others have before in some form) presumes that the eye movement is either induced by or occurs in concert with changes in the fish’s behavior, which initially could have been learned and not coded in the genes. (Ernst Mayr once said something like “all major evolutionary changes begin with a change in behavior”). I don’t know how to test the hypothesis, as even finding more fossils with intermediate stages of eye migration will tell us little about the selective pressures involved. But for sure the movement involved natural selection rather than other evolutionary forces like genetic drift, for we have a big directional change involving many genes, genes that involve both morphology and behavior.
In short, I don’t know how it happened. But seeing that modern fishes can use their fins to prop themselves up on the sea floor may give us a clue. And other scenarios may be possible; readers can entertain themselves by finding alternative ways this change could have occurred by natural selection.
I’m going to try to post some of my own wildlife photos while Jerry is not in a position to post readers’ wildlife photos. (We can look forward to Jerry’s posts of Galapagos wildlife photos, which we eagerly await!) To start, here are some pictures from a field trip I took to Vilas County, Wisconsin, last summer with colleagues from the University of Wisconsin Zoological Museum in Madison. These pictures are from our visit to Escanaba Lake, where the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources has a small field office that conducts careful surveys of the fish in the Lake.
Escanaba Lake, Wisconsin, 23 July 2022.
We went out with DNR fisheries biologist Greg Sass, who showed us some of the research being carried out by the DNR. Greg got his PhD at Madison, where he is affiliated with the Center for Limnology.
Escanaba Lake, Wisconsin, 23 July 2022.
Part of the DNR’s research involves fyke net surveys:
Escanaba Lake, Wisconsin, 23 July 2022.
Here are some of the fish found in the Lake. My ichthyological expertise is minimal, so the IDs will be to family only; feel free to volunteer species IDs in the comments. [Added: see species IDs by Mark R in comment #2.] Centrarchidae:
Measuring the big one– about 44 inches, total length:
Escanaba Lake, Wisconsin, 23 July 2022.
Sometimes, the big and little hung out together:
Escanaba Lake, Wisconsin, 23 July 2022.
The biggest ones were under and around an overturned boat:
Escanaba Lake, Wisconsin, 23 July 2022.
The snakes were so common, I told Greg it would be a great place for someone to do a thesis on their population biology and behavior. Some more water snake photos:
Escanaba Lake, Wisconsin, 23 July 2022.Escanaba Lake, Wisconsin, 23 July 2022.Escanaba Lake, Wisconsin, 23 July 2022.
This being Wisconsin and all, we had dinner the night before at a supper club, accompanied, for most of us, by brandy old fashioneds:
Brandy old fashioneds (mostly) at Marty’s Place North, now sadly closed.