Anoxic Conditions From Everest to Europa: Swamps, Fossils, Naked Mole Rats, and the Hunt for Extraterrestrial Life

Above elevations of 6500 meters (21,300 feet), most climbers tend to start using supplemental oxygen.  At altitudes higher than this, oxygen is spread so thin that humans can have a very tough time breathing.  Even people who come from sea level to my hometown of Boulder, Colorado at an elevation of 1,655 meters (5,430 feet) often get altitude sickness, and there's still a whole lot of altitude to go before you even get to Everest Base Camp.  Most birds don't fly as high as the summit of Mt. Everest, because most birds have no reason to fly that high.  However, for the bar-headed goose, the Himalayas form an unfortunate, but not impassable, barrier between their winter feeding grounds in India and their Tibetan nesting grounds.  These geese have been reported flying over some of the highest Himalayan peaks, and they're not the only ones that fly this high.  On November 29th, 1973, a Rüppell's griffon, a type of Old World vulture, collided with an airplane at an altitude of 11280 meters (37,000 feet).  By comparison, oxygen cylinders are recommended for sailplane pilots flying over 3660 meters (12,000 feet)!

Here we have a beautiful (and extraordinarily neat) size comparison and altitude chart of a number of things covered in the post, including the altitude of Denver, the summit of Mt. Everest, the upper extent of the range of the snow leopard, and the height at which the Rüppells griffon got sucked into the jet engine.  I've also thrown in some other helpful and fun things for comparison as well.

Part of what helps birds survive at altitudes that could kill a human is a series of air sacs that allow air to flow in one direction through the body of the bird.  In humans, the air we breath in and out travels back and forth along the same tubes.  In birds, as well as some of their close dinosaurian cousins, these air sacs would have have allowed the air to flow more efficiently through their bodies.  While this is simply one of many adaptations that can help birds fly at incredibly high altitudes, other animals have evolved other adaptations to assist in high altitude living.  Scientists have determined that changes in the genes EGLN1 and EPAS1 are linked with animals living in oxygen impoverished environments, such as the snow leopard, humans native to Tibet, and naked mole rats.  Naked mole rats live in underground colonies of 20-300 individuals, and are one of two species of mammal that can be classified as "eusocial," meaning that their colonies display a caste system (similar to the social structure seen in ant and termite colonies).  These underground colonies are poorly ventilated, which means that as the mole rats inhale oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide, CO2 concentrations can increase to levels that would be unsafe for humans.  Fortunately, naked mole rats are well adapted to breathing very little oxygen, and their brains seem incapable of registering pain upon contact with acids, which is thought to help them in these CO2 rich confines.  They also demonstrate similar changes in the aforementioned genes as snow leopards and the Tibetan people, indicating another adaptation to these low oxygen (or hypoxic) conditions.

A group of naked mole rats all huddled together at the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo in Colorado Springs, Colorado.  Look at all of that eusociality!

Although hypoxic conditions can bode ill for human climbers and gregarious colonial rodents, low oxygen conditions can be great for paleontologists.  When oxygen levels drop to nearly zero, anoxic conditions prevail, and bacterial decomposition of organic material is greatly reduced.  This can be a major factor when it comes to soft-tissue preservation, such as feathers and skin.  A FEW WEEKS AGO, we talked about several famous fossil sites called Lagerstätten (a German term meaning "mother lode"), that are set apart from other fossil deposits due to the quality and/or quantity of the fossils discovered there.  One of the most famous examples is the Cambrian-aged Burgess Shale in British Columbia, Canada.  Abrupt burial of the 500 million year old organisms, coupled with the anoxic conditions that prevailed at the bottom of this body of water, ensured that these soft-bodied organisms would be preserved in exquisite detail.

A drawing of Opabinia, one of the many creatures that inhabited the Cambrian aged Burgess Shale in British Columbia, Canada.  Photo Credit: Sam Lippincott

Why do swamps often have that rotten egg smell?  Believe it or not, the answer is closely related to what we've already been talking about!  Under hypoxic or anoxic conditions, bacteria that use oxygen (O2) sometimes have to make do with sulfur (S).  If you look at a periodic table, you can see that sulfur (element #16) is directly below oxygen (element #8).  In the periodic table, each group (or column) of elements has very similar chemical properties, which means each element will react in a similar fashion.*  For the bacteria that can't get enough oxygen, they will sometimes turn to its close cousin sulfur instead.  Below is the chemical formula for cellular respiration, which is what these bacteria do, as well as some of the cells in humans.  On the left, we have the inputs: glucose (C6H12O6), and oxygen (O2).  When we breath in air, we are bringing oxygen into our lungs, and we can get glucose from the foods we eat.  On the right of the arrow, we have the outputs: water (H20), carbon dioxide (CO2), and energy.  Remember how we talked about the CO2 concentrations in naked mole rat burrows?  CO2 is one of the products of respiration, and one that can be harmful in large doses.  Energy is another product of respiration, which is the fuel that cells need to do their job.  In places where there is less oxygen input (such as at the top of Mt. Everest or in a naked mole rat burrow), the cells don't get as much energy output, and they can't do their job as well.

Now, instead of having oxygen as one of the inputs of cellular respiration, let's try sticking oxygen's close cousin, sulfur, into the equation to see what will happen.  As you can see below, the glucose on the left of the equation remains unaffected, as does the carbon dioxide output on the right of the equation.  But instead of having water (H2O) as another one of the outputs, we now see a molecule with the formula H2S.  Instead of forming water (hydrogen oxide), we have now formed a closely related molecule, hydrogen sulfide.  In swamps, large amounts of organic material leads to lots of bacteria and bacterial decomposition, which in turn can lead to lots of the oxygen being used up in the water.  That's when these bacteria start using sulfur to make their energy, producing hydrogen sulfide, with that characteristic rotten egg smell.  Even with this sulfur replacement, sometimes the bacteria just can't keep up with the amount of vegetation that is deposited in the swamp, and the organic material builds up.  If the rate at which the vegetation accumulates exceeds the rate which the bacteria can decompose the vegetation, then you have coal formation potential sometime in the future.

Let's take this one step further.  In normal respiration, where oxygen is one of the inputs and water (H2O) is one of the outputs, carbon dioxide (CO2) is another one of the outputs.  If animals and bacteria keep using up oxygen and turning it into carbon dioxide, why haven't we run out of oxygen?  Will we run out one day?  Fortunately, for the time being, plants have got our back, by undergoing a process called photosynthesis.  Photosynthesis is almost the exact opposite of respiration: carbon dioxide and water are the inputs, and glucose and oxygen are the outputs.  However, unlike respiration, light is one of the inputs of photosynthesis.  In the 1700s, a man named Joseph Priestly did experiments in which he sealed a mouse in a jar, and waited to see what happened.  The mouse, as you could probably predict, suffocated and died.  It used up its oxygen to create energy (as well as carbon dioxide), and eventually ran out of oxygen.  (This is why it's important not to put animals into completely sealed jars with no airflow, as they will suffocate.)  However, if he put a plant into the same jar as the mouse, the mouse didn't suffocate.  We now know that is because, as the mouse used up the oxygen, creating carbon dioxide, the plant would use the carbon dioxide, ultimately creating more oxygen.

As you probably know, plants need light to survive, and as we mentioned before, that's because light is one of the inputs of photosynthesis.  No light, no photosynthesis.  No photosynthesis, your plant dies.  For many years, scientists assumed that all life on Earth was directly dependent on the Sun for its energy.  That is, until 1977, when scientists discovered entire communities of biological organisms living thousands of meters beneath the surface of the ocean, too far from any sunlight to undergo photosynthesis.  So what was going on?  How were these communities able to survive without access to the sunlight?

Hydrothermal vents are essentially underwater hot springs that form along tectonic boundaries thousands of meters beneath the surface of the ocean.  These underwater vents spew different compounds containing sulfur into the surrounding water, just like aboveground geysers do, too.  (If you have ever been to Yellowstone National Park, then you might even remember the rotten egg smell.)  Some bacteria that surround these vents are actually able to use these sulfur-containing compounds to create the energy needed to undergo a process similar to photosynthesis, called chemosynthesis (consult the equation below).  Chemosynthesis is very similar to photosynthesis, with a few key differences, the biggest difference being the sulfur reactions vs. sunlight as one of the inputs.  You can also see that, instead of having water (H2O) as an input like in photosynthesis, chemosynthesis instead uses hydrogen sulfide (H2S) as an input.  Then, instead of producing oxygen, the chemosynthetic organisms produce water and sulfur.  You can compare it to the oxygen-poor respiration equation that we talked about with the swamps, and see that it is similar to that equation as well, simply flipped around.

But that's not all.  Scientists have taken this idea a step (or rather, one giant leap) further.  The search for life on other planets thus far has yielded nothing, but that doesn't mean it's not there.  It is now realized that some of the factors that were once thought to limit the development of life, such as sunlight, might not be as crucial as we once thought, and the hydrothermal vent communities have been crucial in the maturation of these ideas.  Some scientists suspect that life could exist on Mars by using chemosynthesis, but a new candidate has been receiving an increasing amount of attention: one of Jupiter's moons, Europa.  Icier than the planet Hoth, Europa is now thought to have an ocean of liquid water up to 160 km (100 miles) deep surrounding the solid, rocky mantle, following the discovery of a magnetic field surrounding the moon, similar to the magnetic field that surrounds the Earth.

What keeps the liquid ocean of Europa from freezing solid?  Jupiter is pretty far from the Sun, and even Mars, which is much closer to both the Sun and the Earth than Jupiter is, has had its water frozen for millennia.  It's thought that the gravity exerted by the enormous mass of Jupiter continually pushes and pulls, or tidal stresses, on its moons, which keep the planets from becoming tectonically inactive, like Mars.  Io, another of Jupiter's moons slightly larger than our Moon, is the most geologically active body in our Solar System.  The tidal stresses from Jupiter exerted on Io apparently make Io's ground itself buckle up and down, similar to the tides we experience here on Earth, except that instead of water moving up and down 18 meters (60 feet), its solid ground moving up and down up to 100 meters (330 feet!)  It's these same tidal stresses that make Io so geologically and volcanically active that help keep Europa from freezing solid.  It has been hypothesized that the tidal flexing might also create hydrothermal vents on the bottom of Europa's oceans, and it shouldn't take too much thinking to realize what that might mean: the potential for extraterrestrial life!

*For example, we humans, as well as all known lifeforms, are carbon-based.  In science fiction, such as Star Trek and Transformers, you will often hear about "silicon-based lifeforms."  Why silicon, as opposed to any other element?  If you look at the periodic table, silicon is in the same group as carbon, and situated right beneath it, and therefore has very similar chemical properties as carbon.



Works Cited:

Not Enough Bacteria, Too Many Allergies

If you were to hear someone say "by making our world more sterile, we're actually making ourselves sicker," you might think they were full of it: initially, it sure doesn't sound like it makes any sense. Interestingly, however, it seems as if this may, in fact, be true: our attempts to make our world a cleaner place, we are slowly and steadily weakening our own immune systems!

It all started yesterday as I was working at the Morrison Natural History Museum, watering and destroying the angiosperms from the Jurassic Garden with "extreme prejudice," as angiosperms do not appear to have inhabited Colorado during the Jurassic Period. I started wondering why there was so much dead plant material around the base of the plants in the garden, and, for lack of a better conclusion, decided that it was probably because the bacteria that would normally digest these plants didn't actually live here. (I still don't know whether that is true or not). The topic of bacteria triggered my brain to start thinking about digestive bacteria: I was quite hungry, you see. It had been brought to my attention in the past that, even if humans were somehow able to miraculously clone a dinosaur, we almost certainly couldn't keep them alive. Each animal on the planet has its own, unique set of bacteria that helps it to digest its food. With the extinction of the dinosaurs, it is almost certain that the bacteria that constantly accompanied them in their digest tracts went extinct, as well.

This line of thought made me think about the passing of bacteria from the parents to their offspring. How is it done? I assumed that they weren't born with it, but I wasn't sure. I ended up thinking that perhaps, in animals that regurgitate food into the mouths of their young (like penguins), perhaps this was how the bacteria was passed. With perfect timing, out came Matt Mossbrucker, the director and curator at the Morrison Museum. I asked him whether it was, indeed, regurgitation that passed the bacteria on, and he said yes: partially. You know how many animals (such as your dog and cat at home) will eat poop? That's at least part of the reason: they're trying to get bacteria from the poop to help them digest their food!

After thinking about it for a few seconds, I realized that humans (most of us, anyways) neither regurgitate our food for our young 'uns, nor do we eat each others poop. So I asked Matt whether humans get this bacteria through breast milk: turns out, we don't. So how do we get the bacteria?

According to recent research, humans aren't getting enough bacteria to digest their food. Much of this research seems to indicate that perhaps this is the reason why so many humans have digestive issues, allergies, and the like. Matt also said that, just like I said in the introduction, "by making our world more sterile, we're actually making ourselves sicker." Still sound paradoxical? Well, ultimately, humans are trying so dang hard to sterilize their world with hand sanitizer, bleach, alcohol, and soap, that we aren't being exposed to as many pathogens. While in some cases this is a good thing, in other cases, our immune systems, just like the six-pack of someone who doesn't exercise, slowly weaken.  And, of course, a weak immune system is good for no one!

So is the moral of the story to stop washing your hands?  No, of course not.  It's to go out there and eat poop.  See you later, everyone!

Digest This: Or Can You? A Koala Could

I've been reading some interesting things about the koala (Phascolarctos cinereus) that I thought you might be interested in hearing.  As we all know, koalas are one of the sleepiest animals, and can be found sleeping and resting around eighteen or nineteen hours a day.  That means that out of their thirteen year life span, they are sleeping for around ten of those years. By comparison, a human with a lifespan of seventy-five years that sleeps an average of eight hours a day would sleep around 25 years of their life.  While a lot more than twelve years for the koala, keep in mind that humans only sleep around 33% of their life, while koalas sleep around a whopping 75-80%. But why do they sleep so much? The answer lies in what they eat: Eucalyptus leaves.

The leaves of the Eucalyptus trees are incredibly hard to digest.  Not only are the leaves very fibrous, much like celery (think about how hard celery is to chew), but they are also chock-full of toxins that very few animals can digest, with especially high concentrations of volatile oils and phenolic compounds.  What does that mean in English?  Well, phenolics are a type of organic chemical that naturally occur in plants, where they can act as deterrents against predatory browsing at the hands (or rather the mouths) of herbivores.  As stated before, the concentration of phenolics in the Eucalyptus leaves are so high that most animals would simply be unable to digest the leaves.  The koala decided not to take this lying down (ironic, as that is most of what koalas do in a day), and have evolved in a few key ways to help them deal with these toxins.

A fascinating moment of a koala's life: being awake.  Quite the statistical anomaly.

The first is simple; they have teeth that are great for chewing.  The broad, high-cusped molars possessed by the koala help it to thoroughly mash the food in its mouth prior to further digestion.  In our own mouth, we also have molars, along with a wide assortment of other types of teeth. When you are chewing your dinner, you tear bite-sized chunks off with your front teeth, or incisors and canines. Then, you move the food to the back of your mouth for further processing, and you further chew the food with your molars. The cusps on our teeth make it so the food is crushed fairly thoroughly. However, the koala doesn’t eat food like lettuce that can be torn up fairly easily. Thus, the koala has higher cusps on their molars, allowing for the Eucalyptus leaves to be ground up quite nicely.

A koala skeleton on display at the American Museum of Natural History in New York, New York.  Note the molars in the back.

The second major evolutionary adaptation is that the koala has a very long cecum, a pouch of sorts that is considered to be the first part of the large intestine.  In fact, at four times its own body length, the cecum of the koala is proportionally longer than that of any other mammal on the planet! The bacteria in the cecum help to break down the tough tissues in plants, such as cellulose, an important structural component of the cell wall in plants.  This gives our fuzzy marsupial friend a whole lot more time and space for that tough plant material to be digested.  Apparently, it takes a whole lot of guts to be a koala.

Believe it or not, I don't have a picture of a koala cecum on file.  So instead, take a look at this other interesting adaptation of the koala.  Instead of having a single thumb like we humans have, it has two!  Its first two digits are both functional thumbs, and are opposable to the other three digits on their hand.  You can see part of the hand skeleton the picture above this one.

Koalas aren't born with those important cecum bacteria, though, and to my knowledge no animals really are.  After five months of suckling from mom, the koala joey starts to enjoy the "partially digested leaf material produced from the female's anus" (MacDonald, 1984), or, as I like to call it, "Mom's Butt Leaves."  This delicious meal is actually thought to come from the cecum, giving the joey those essential bacteria and microbes, not to mention a delightful, pre-digested meal of Mom's Butt Leaves.  (Check out our other post about butt bacteria and eating poop HERE.)

Get yours at your local King Soopers today!

A fourth innovation of the koala is simply the exorbitant amount of time that the marsupial spends sleeping.  When you sleep, you are burning fewer calories than you would be if you were running around or hunting, or moving through a Eucalyptus tree browsing on its leaves.  Therefore, the more time the koala spends sleeping, the more energy it saves in exchange.  (The popular myth that the koala gets "stoned" by the Eucalyptus leaves is nothing more than that: a myth.)  The koala is able to delicately walk the line that we all desire to find: the maximum amount of sleep that one can get without dying.  It's truly a marvelous achievement, one which the koala handles with much grace and aplomb.

During the Pleistocene, there existed a larger species of koala, Phascolarctos stirtoni, a slightly larger koala than the modern species, P. cinereus.  Based on dentary measurements of both species from Price et. al., I came up with an approximate size increase of 1.4.  That is, take the length of a body part of P. cinereus, the modern koala, and multiple that value by 1.4, and you should get the approximate length of the same body part for the robust koala, P. stirtoni.  Not exactly the most precise method, but one that'll work for our purposes.  Below, you can see an approximate size comparison that I made of the two koalas, our modern species in gray and the extinct species in brown.

An approximate size comparison between the modern Phascolarctos cinereus (right) and the extinct P. stirtoni, with a can of Mom's Butt Leaves for scale.

More recently, scientists have realized that there is actually no evidence that does not support the idea that the hypothetical Laser-Eyed Koala (Phascolarctos oculaser) could have maybe possibly existed.  Scientists have been quoted as saying "We have never found it but that's not to say that who's to say that we aren't all koalas."  Below is the first unrefuted photographic evidence of the Laser-Eyed Koala in action.

That incredible, hands-on natural history museum in scenic Morrison, Colorado never stood a chance against that koala.  Fortunately, repairs to the facility should be completed on time for tomorrows 10:15 AM tour, which is included with your admission fee and well worth the time.  Talk about great free advertising, am I right?

Works Cited:

Hättenschwiler, S., & Vitousek, P. (2000). The role of polyphenols in terrestrial ecosystem nutrient cycling. Trends in Ecology & Evolution, 238-243.

Logan, M., & Sanson, G. (2002). The effect of tooth wear on the feeding behaviour of free-ranging koalas (Phascolarctos cinereus, Goldfuss). Journal of Zoology, 63-69.

Macdonald, D. (1984). The Encyclopedia of mammals. New York, NY: Facts on File.

Nagy, K., & Martin, R. (1985). Field Metabolic Rate, Water Flux, Food Consumption and Time Budget of Koalas, Phascolarctos Cinereus (Marsupialia: Phascolarctidae) in Victoria. Australian Journal of Zoology Aust. J. Zool., 655-655.

Piper, K. (2005). An early Pleistocene record of a giant koala (Phascolarctidae: Marsupialia) from western Victoria. Australian Mammalogy Aust. Mammalogy, 221-221.

Price, G. (2008). Is the modern koala (Phascolarctos cinereus) a derived dwarf of a Pleistocene giant? Implications for testing megafauna extinction hypotheses. Quaternary Science Reviews, 2516-2521.

Price, G., Zhao, J., Feng, Y., & Hocknull, S. (2009). New records of Plio-Pleistocene koalas from Australia: Palaeoecological and taxonomic implications. Records of the Australian Museum Rec. Aust. Mus., 39-48.