In A.D. 185, Chinese records note the appearance of a “guest star” that then faded away over the span of several months. In 1572, astronomer Tycho Brahe and many others watched as a previously unknown star in the constellation Cassiopeia blasted out gobs of light and then eventually disappeared. And 30 years ago, the world witnessed a similar blaze of light from a small galaxy that orbits the Milky Way. In each case, humankind stood witness to a supernova — an exploding star — within or relatively close to our galaxy (representative border in gray, below).
Here’s a map of six supernovas directly seen by human eyes throughout history, and one nearby explosion that went unnoticed. Some were type 1a supernovas, the detonation of a stellar core left behind after a star releases its gas into space. Others were triggered when a star at least eight times as massive as the sun blows itself apart.
BOSTON — A fungus among us may tip the body toward developing asthma.
There’s mounting evidence that early exposure to microbes can protect against allergies and asthma (SN Online: 7/20/16). But “lo and behold, some fungi seem to put kids at risk for asthma,” microbiologist Brett Finlay said February 17 at a news conference during the annual meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science.
Infants whose guts harbored a particular kind of fungus — a yeast called Pichia — were more likely to develop asthma than babies whose guts didn’t have the fungus, Finlay reported. Studies in mice and people suggest that exposure to some fungi can both trigger and exacerbate asthma, but this is the first work linking asthma to a fungus in the gut microbiome of infants. Finlay, of the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, and his colleagues had recently identified four gut bacteria in Canadian infants that seem to provide asthma protection. To see if infants elsewhere were similarly protected by such gut microbes, he decided to look at another population of children with an asthma rate similar to Canada’s (about 10 percent). He and his colleagues sampled the gut microbes of 100 infants in rural Ecuador and followed up five years later.
The researchers identified several factors that might influence risk of developing asthma, such as exposure to antibiotics, having respiratory infections, and whether or not the infants were breastfed. Of the 29 infants in the high-risk asthma group, more than 50 percent had asthma by age 5, Finlay said.
Surprisingly, the strongest predictor of whether a child developed asthma wasn’t bacterial. It was the presence of Pichia. And the yeast wasn’t protective; it tipped the scales toward asthma.
Finlay speculated that molecules made by the fungi interact with the infants’ developing immune systems in a way that somehow increases asthma risk. It isn’t clear how the infants’ guts acquire the fungus; some species of Pichia are found in soil, others in raw milk and cheese. Finlay and his colleagues are now going to look for the fungus in Canadian children’s gut microbes..
The researchers also looked at other gut microbe‒related factors that upped the Ecuadorean children’s asthma risk. Children with access to clean water had higher asthma rates, Finlay said. While drinking clean water helps people avoid several ills such as cholera, the link to asthma highlights how some dirt can be protective, he said. “We’ve cleaned up our world too much.” This research underscores that caution should be used when generalizing about our intestinal flora. “What’s emerging is that it is very personalized,” gastroenterologist Eran Elinav of the Weizmann Institute of Science in Rehovot, Israel, said at the news conference. For example, evidence implicates some fungi in the development of inflammatory bowel disease, Elinav said, but it depends on the individual.
Scientists have constructed five more yeast chromosomes from scratch. The new work, reported online March 9 in Science, brings researchers closer to completely lab-built yeast.
“We’re doing it primarily to learn a little more about how cells are wired,” says geneticist Jef Boeke of the New York University Langone Medical Center. But scientists might also be able to tinker with a synthetic yeast cell more efficiently than a natural one, allowing more precise engineering of everything from antiviral drugs to biofuels. Boeke was part of a team that reported the first synthetic yeast chromosome in 2014 (SN: 5/3/14, p. 7). Now, several hundred scientists in five countries are working to make all 16 Saccharomyces cerevisiae yeast chromosomes and integrate them into living cells. With six chromosomes finished, Boeke hopes the remaining 10 will be built by the end of 2017.
Each synthetic chromosome is based on one of S. cerevisiae’s, but with tweaks for efficiency. Researchers cut out stretches of DNA that can jump around and cause mutations, as well as parts that code for the same information multiple times.
When the researchers put chunks of synthetic DNA into yeast cells, the cells swapped out parts of their original DNA for the matching engineered snippets.
Yeast is a eukaryote — it stores its DNA in a nucleus, like human cells do. Eventually, this research could produce synthetic chromosomes for more complicated organisms, Boeke says, but such feats are still far in the future.
Glass frogs often start life with some tender care from a source scientists didn’t expect: frog moms.
Maternal care wouldn’t be news among mammals or birds, but amphibian parenting intrigues biologists because dads are about as likely as moms to evolve as the caregiver sex. And among New World glass frogs (Centrolenidae), what little parental care there is almost always is dad’s job — or so scientists thought, says Jesse Delia of Boston University. Months of strenuous nights searching streamside leaves in five countries, however, have revealed a widespread world of brief, but important, female care in glass frogs. In examining 40 species, Delia and Laura Bravo-Valencia, now at Corantioquia, a government environmental agency in Santa Fe de Antioquia, Colombia, found that often mothers lingered over newly laid eggs for several hours. By pressing maternal bellies against the brood, moms hydrated the jelly-glop of eggs and improved offspring chances of survival, Delia, Bravo-Valencia and Karen Warkentin, also of BU, report online March 31 in the Journal of Evolutionary Biology.
Glass frogs take their name from see-through skin on their bellies and, in certain cases, transparent organ tissues. (Some have clear hearts that reveal blood swishing through.) These frogs aren’t exactly obscure species, but until this field project, which stretched over six rainy seasons, female care in the family was unknown.
Female glass frogs may not cuddle their eggs for long, but it’s enough to matter, the researchers found. As is common in frogs, the mothers don’t drink with their mouths but absorb water directly through belly skin into a bladder. Moms pressing against a mass of newly laid eggs caused the protective goo to swell — perhaps by osmosis or peeing — and the mass to quadruple in size. For some of the glass frogs in the study, the youngsters were on their own once mom left. But at least hydration created an unpleasant amount of slime for a predator to bite through before getting to frog embryos. Night-hunting katydids in captivity, when offered a choice, barely nibbled at a hydrated mass of frog offspring, concentrating instead on eating an unhydrated clutch. In the field, when researchers removed about two dozen moms from their clutches in two species, mortality at least doubled to around 80 percent. Predators and dehydration caused the most deaths.
There are still more than 100 glass frog species that Delia and Bravo-Valencia haven’t yet watched in the wild. But the researchers did track down maternal care in 10 of 12 genera. Such a widespread form of maternal care probably evolved in the ancestor of all glass frogs, the researchers propose after analyzing glass frog family trees several ways.
In contrast, prolonged care from glass frog dads — rehydrating the egg mass as needed and fighting off predators such as hungry spiders — seems to have arisen independently later, at least twice. Across evolution in the animal kingdom, “usually we don’t see transitions from female to male care,” Delia says. “The pattern we found is completely bizarre.”
Why females started hanging around their eggs at all fascinates Hope Klug, an evolutionary biologist at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga who studies parental care. In frogs, with eggs mostly fertilized externally, females could easily leave any care to dad.
“Parental care is perhaps more common and diverse in animals than we realize,” she says. “We just might have to look a little bit harder for it.”
When it comes to smelling pretty, petunias are pretty pushy.
Instead of just letting scent compounds waft into the air, the plants use a particular molecule called a transporter protein to help move the compounds along, a new study found. The results, published June 30 in Science, could help researchers genetically engineer many kinds of plants both to attract pollinators and to repel pests and plant eaters.
“These researchers have been pursuing this transporter protein for a while,” says David Clark, an expert in horticultural biotechnology and genetics at the University of Florida in Gainesville. “Now they’ve got it. And the implications could be big.” Plants use scents to communicate (SN: 7/27/02, p. 56). The scent compounds can attract insects and other organisms that spread pollen and help plants reproduce, or can repel pests and plant-eating animals. The proteins found in the new study could be used to dial the amount of scent up or down so that plants can attract more pollinators or better protect themselves. Currently unscented plants could be engineered to smell, too, giving them a better shot at reproduction and survival, Clark says. Plants get their scents from volatile organic compounds, which easily turn into gases at ambient temperatures. Petunias get their sweet smell from a mix of benzaldehyde, the same compound that gives cherries and almonds their fruity, nutty scent, and phenylpropanoids, often used in perfumes.
But nice smells have a trade-off: If these volatile compounds build up inside a plant, they can damage the plant’s cells. About two years ago, study coauthor Joshua Widhalm, a horticulturist at Purdue University in West Lafayette, Ind., and colleagues used computer simulations to look at the way petunias’ scent compounds moved. The results showed that the compounds can’t move out of cells fast enough on their own to avoid damaging the plant. So the researchers hypothesized that something must be shuttling the compounds out.
In the new study, led by Purdue biochemist Natalia Dudareva, the team looked for genetic changes as the plant developed from its budding stage, which had the lowest levels of volatile organic compounds, to its flower-opening stage, with the highest levels. As flowers opened and scent levels peaked, the gene PhABCG1 went into overdrive; levels of the protein that it makes jumped to more than 100 times higher than during the budding stage, the researchers report.
The team then genetically engineered petunias to produce 70 to 80 percent less of the PhABCG1 protein. Compared with regular petunias, the engineered ones released around half as much of the scent compounds, with levels inside the plant’s cells building to double or more the normal levels. Images of the cells show that the accumulation led to deterioration of cell membranes.
A lot of work has been done to identify the genes and proteins that generate scent compounds, says Clark. But this appears to be the first study to have identified a transporter protein to shuttle those compounds out of the cell. “That’s a big deal,” he says.
Galaxies may grow by swiping gas from their neighbors.
New simulations suggest that nearly half the matter in the Milky Way may have been siphoned from the gas of other galaxies. That gas provides the raw material that galaxies use to build their bulk. The finding, scheduled to appear in the Monthly Notices of the Royal Astronomical Society, reveals a new, unexpected way for galaxies to acquire matter and could give clues to how they evolve. “These simulations show a huge amount of interaction among galaxies, a huge dance that’s going on,” says astronomer Romeel Davé of the University of Edinburgh. That dance, and the subsequent exchange of atoms, could be what establishes a galaxy’s character — whether it’s small or big, elliptical or spiral, quiet or bursting with star formation. If the simulation results are confirmed with observations, it could be a major advancement in understanding galaxy formation, Davé says.
It makes sense that much of the material in one galaxy actually came from other galaxies, says study coauthor Claude-André Faucher-Giguère, a theoretical astrophysicist at Northwestern University in Evanston, Ill. “Still, the result was really unexpected,” he says.
Astronomers thought galaxies got their matter in two main ways. First, atoms clumped together to form stars and then galaxies, not long after the Big Bang about 13.8 billion years ago. Then some of those atoms were eventually ejected by supernovas but rained back onto the same galaxy, recycling the gas again and again.
The new simulations showed a third way galaxies could score gas. Powerful supernova explosions would eject atoms, in the form of gas, far from their home galaxies into intergalactic space. Those atoms would then travel through space, pushed toward other galaxies by galactic winds that move at several hundred kilometers per second. When the particles neared a galaxy’s gravitational pull, they would get sucked in, where they would serve as the basis for stars, planets, dust and other material in their new galactic home. Still, this exchange of atoms is extremely difficult to spot in space because the gas atoms, don’t give off light like stars do. Faucher-Giguère and colleagues spotted the exchange in computer simulations that show how galaxies formed just after the Big Bang and how they have evolved over time. The team tracked gas atoms as they moved through the model universe, formed stars and then were ejected from galaxies as those stars exploded.
In the simulations, up to half of the atoms in large galaxies were pulled in from other galaxies. Because more massive galaxies have more gravity, they tended to pull atoms from the ejected material of small galaxies. The exchange appears to take billions of years as atoms travel the vast space between galaxies, the team notes.
“It’s that not surprising to see a galaxy kick out matter, which is then pulled in by other galaxies,” Davé says. What is surprising, he says, is the amount of material that’s transferred. Before seeing the simulations, he would have guessed that about 5 percent of gas was transferred among galaxies this way. “To see that it is up to 50 percent is pretty remarkable,” he says.
Already, astronomers are searching for evidence of this material-swapping behavior among galaxies. Faucher-Giguère and colleagues, working with researchers using the Hubble Space Telescope, hope to observe intergalactic transfer of gas among galaxies soon.
The largest marsupial to ever walk the Earth just got another accolade: It’s also the only marsupial known to migrate seasonally.
Diprotodon optatum was a massive wombat-like herbivore that lived in what’s now Australia and New Guinea during the Pleistocene, until about 40,000 years ago. Now, an analysis of one animal’s teeth suggests that it undertook long, seasonal migrations like those made by zebras and wildebeests in Africa.
Animals pick up the chemical element strontium through their diet, and it leaves a record in their teeth. The ratio of different strontium isotopes varies from place to place, so it can provide clues about where an animal lived. Strontium isotope ratios in an incisor from one D. optatum revealed a repeating pattern. That suggests the animal migrated seasonally — it moved around, but generally hit up the same rest stops each year, researchers report September 27 in the Proceedings of the Royal Society B.
It’s the first evidence to show a marsupial — living or extinct — migrating in this way, says study coauthor Gilbert Price, a paleoecologist at the University of Queensland in Brisbane, Australia. It’s not clear exactly why this mega-marsupial might have migrated, but an analysis of the carbon isotopes in its teeth suggests it ate a fairly limited diet. So it might have migrated to follow food sources that popped up seasonally in different places, the authors suggest.
What looks like a spider, but with a segmented rear plus a long spike of a tail, has turned up in amber that’s about 100 million years old.
Roughly the size of a peppercorn (not including the tail, which stretches several times the body length), this newly described extinct species lived in forests in what is now Myanmar during the dinosaur-rich Cretaceous Period.
Spiders as their own distinctive group had evolved long before. Whether this tailed creature should be considered a true spider (of the group Araneae) is debatable though, researchers acknowledge February 5 in two studies in Nature Ecology & Evolution. In one of the papers, the fossils’ chimeric mash-up of traits both spidery and nonspidery inspired Bo Wang of the Chinese Academy of Sciences in Nanjing and colleagues to name the species Chimerarachne yingi. C. yingi indeed has some anatomy that, among living animals, would be unique to spiders, says Gonzalo Giribet of Harvard University, a coauthor of the other paper. The fossils have what look like little structures that could have exuded spider silk, as well as distinctive male spider sex organs. Called pedipalps, these modified legs have no direct connection to a sperm-producing organ. Spiders need to load them before mating, for instance by ejaculating a sperm droplet and dipping pedipalps in it, so the structures can deliver the sperm a bit like a syringe.
But the abdomen-like end of a true spider’s body isn’t segmented and certainly doesn’t have a tail. Giribet and his colleagues’ analysis puts C. yingi in an ancient sister group of spiders. That’s startling in itself, Giribet says, because researchers have speculated that this Uraraneida group had gone extinct much earlier. So, spider or not, C. yingi remains intriguing.
Underwater grasses are growing back in the Chesapeake Bay. The plants now carpet three times as much real estate as in 1984, thanks to more than 30 years of efforts to reduce nitrogen pollution. This environmental success story shows that regulations put in place to protect the bay’s health have made a difference, researchers report the week of March 5 in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.
Rules limiting nutrient runoff from farms and wastewater treatment plants helped to decrease nitrogen concentrations in the bay by 23 percent since 1984. That decline in nitrogen has allowed the recovery of 17,000 hectares of grasses, the new study shows — enough to cover roughly 32,000 football fields. “This is one of the best examples we have of linking long-term research data with management to show how important that is in restoring this critical habitat,” says Karen McGlathery, an environmental scientist at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville who wasn’t involved in the research. ”I don’t know of any other system that’s so large and so complicated where these connections have been made.”
The bay’s aquatic vegetation, including seagrasses and freshwater grasses, is an important part of coastal ecosystems, says study coauthor Jonathan Lefcheck, a marine ecologist at the Bigelow Laboratory for Ocean Sciences in East Boothbay, Maine. Beds of underwater grasses act as nurseries that shelter young fish and aquatic invertebrates. The plants clean the water by trapping particulates, and stabilize shorelines by preventing erosion. But the once-lush grasses began dying off in the 1950s when the region’s human population boomed, and cities and farms dumped increasing amounts of nitrogen and other nutrients into the bay.
In the late 1970s and early 1980s, state and federal agencies took action, limiting the amount of nutrients that could enter the bay from farms, water treatment facilities and other sources. Those groups also instituted programs to monitor the bay’s health, building up the stockpile of information that Lefcheck and his colleagues have now analyzed.
The researchers looked at aerial surveys of the bay, data on water temperature and nutrient levels, as well as land and fertilizer use. Using mathematical equations to test which variables had the biggest impact on seagrass regrowth, the team pinned down nitrogen reduction as the driving force. That makes sense: Too much nitrogen in water promotes the growth of plankton, which can block sunlight, and algae, which can settle on the grass blades and smother them. Now, though, researchers are seeing just the opposite. Grasses need clean water to get a foothold, but once they settle in, they “modify their own environment and make it better,” Lefcheck says. “Once you get a little bit established, it can take off.”
As I’ve been reporting a story about the opioid epidemic, I’ve sorted through a lot of tragic numbers that make the astronomical spike in deaths and injuries related to the drugs feel more real.
The rise in the abuse of opioids — powerfully addictive painkillers — is driven by adults. But kids are also swept up in the current, a new study makes clear. The number of children admitted to pediatric intensive care units at hospitals for opioid-related trouble nearly doubled between 2004 and 2015, researchers report in the March Pediatrics. Researchers combed through medical records from 46 hospitals around the United States, looking for opioid-related reasons for admission to the hospital. When the researchers looked at children who landed in pediatric intensive care units for opioid-related crises, the numbers were grim, nearly doubling. In the period including 2004 to 2007, 367 children landed in the PICU for opioid-related trouble. In the period including 2012 to 2015, that number was 643. (From 2008 to 2011, 554 kids were admitted to the PICU for opioid-related illnesses.) Most opioid-related hospital admissions were for children ages 12 to 17, the researchers found. The available stats couldn’t say how many of those events were accidental ingestions versus intentional drug use. (Though for older kids, there’s a sliver of good news from elsewhere: Prescription opioid use among teenagers is actually down, a recent survey suggests.) But about a third of the hospitalizations were for children younger than 6. And among these young kids, about 20 percent of the poisonings involved methadone, a drug that’s used to treat opioid addiction. That means that these young kids are getting into adults’ drugs (illicit or prescribed) and accidentally ingesting them.
Lots of parents don’t store their prescription opioid painkillers safely away from their young children, a survey last year suggests. Drugs, prescription or otherwise, should be kept out of sight and out of reach, ideally locked away. Some kids are great climbers, and some are crafty bottle openers who can, with persistence, work around supposedly child-resistant packaging.
These are tips for everyone living with small kids — not just those who may have opioids in the house. Children are curious, persistent and, sadly, extra vulnerable to powerful drugs, which means that we should all do our best to keep them away from these potentially dangerous drugs.
