Finding fish fluorescently

Very early in my teaching career at Carleton College in Minnesota, I was thrust into the position of teaching students about things that I knew very little about.  I quickly learned that things went well, so long as I confessed my ignorance – the very bright students at that college were always happy to help me with my education. My ignorance of things biological stemmed from my undergraduate training in psychology, which had only a smattering of biology and chemistry in the coursework.  So when we extracted chlorophyll from a plant, shone a bright high-energy (probably UV) light on it, and it glowed a beautiful red, my reaction was “wooo…, that’s cool.”  My colleague, who was much more broadly trained, explained that this process, biofluorescence, occurred because the chlorophyll’s electrons were excited by the high energy light, and that they emitted the red light when they returned to a lower-energy state.

Marteenfig1Solenostomus cyanopterus

Robust ghost pipefish, Solenostomus cyanopterus, is cryptic in ambient daylight (left), but biofluoresces red when lit at night by a high-intensity LED torch (right).

 

Many threatened or endangered marine species are cryptic, providing challenges to conservation biologists who must assess the abundance of these species.  Usually, marine biologists use underwater visual censuses to measure abundance and distribution of marine species, but small or cryptic species are often missed or undercounted.  Maarten de Brauwer reasoned that conservation biologists could use biofluorescence as a tool to find small or cryptic marine organisms.  He knew from a paper that recently came out in the literature, and from his own experience as a diver, that a number of cryptic species do fluoresce. But how large is that number?

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A diver searches for biofluorescent species. Credit: J. A. Hobbs

DeBrauer, working with five other researchers, surveyed reef fish at four locations in Indonesia, as well as two locations outside Indonesia (Christmas Island and the Cocos Islands).  Indonesia was a conservation priority as it contains the world’s greatest abundance of marine fish species. Using high-energy LED torches, the researchers surveyed 31 sites at the six locations, assessing each fish they detected for whether it was cryptic or non-cryptic, and whether it fluoresced. Of 95 cryptic species, 83 fluoresced.  In contrast, only 12 of 135 non-cryptic species fluoresced.

MarteenEcolFig1

Number of cryptic and non-cryptic species showing biofluorescence in the survey.

Why are cryptic species more likely to biofluoresce?  As it turns out, we don’t know the answer to this question.  De Brauwer suggests that some small species, like gobies and triplefins, may use flourescence, which is particularly well-defined around the head region, as a way of communicating without predator detection.  These species fluoresce in red, a very-short-range light, so predators won’t see them unless they are very close. Some species of scorpionfish that live in algae and seagrass also fluoresce red, which allows them to blend in well with the red fluorescence emitted by the algal and seagrass chlorophyll.

Having shown that cryptic species tend to bioflouresce, the next challenge was to see whether bioflourescence surveys worked better than standard underwater visual censuses. First, the researchers focused their efforts on two species of pygmy seahorses (Hippocanpus bargibanti and H. denise) that live on seafans, searching for two minutes, either with or without a flourescence torch.  They followed with a similar study on two species of reef fish, the largemouth triplefin (Ucla xenogrammus) and the highfin triplefin (Enneapterygius tutuilae); but this time surveying 20m x 2m transects, either with or without a fluorescence torch.

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A diver searches a seafan for pygmy seahorses. Credit: J. A. Hobbs.

Unfortunately, the pygmy seahorses are tiny (as you might suspect from their name) and probably rare, so only 32 H. bargibanti and 7 H. denise were detected. These seahorses fluoresce red primarily in their tail region and green from their eyes.

MarteenEcolFig3

Two cryptic pygmy seahorses “seen” under ambient light (left, circled in red) and in the underwater biofluorescence census (right).

The numbers of H. denise were too small to include in the analysis. But for the other three species, the bioflourescence surveys detected more individuals than did the underwater visual surveys.

MarteenEcolFig4

Mean number of individual H. bargibanti (left), U. xenogrammus (center) and E. tutuilae (right) detected with underwater visual surveys (UVC) vs. underwater biofluorescence surveys (UBC).

The researchers discovered that bioflourescence is very common in these cryptic and rare species, which means this technique can be used to assess abundance in species most likely to be overlooked using standard underwater visual surveys. The International Union for the Conservation of Nature, which (among other tasks) is responsible for assessing the extinction risk of species worldwide, has only been able to do so for less than 44% of fish belonging to three large cryptic families of reef fish.  Of 2000 species in these three families, 21% are listed as data-deficient because they have been so difficult to survey.  This novel approach should help inform conservation biologists about species that are in dire straits, so they can focus conservation efforts in a productive and useful direction.

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Conservation Biology. The reference is Brauwer, M., Hobbs, J. A., Ambo‐Rappe, R., Jompa, J., Harvey, E. S. and McIlwain, J. L. (2018), Biofluorescence as a survey tool for cryptic marine species. Conservation Biology, 32: 706-715. doi:10.1111/cobi.13033. You should also check out Dr. De Brauwer’s blog at crittersresearch.com. Thanks to the Society for Conservation Biology for allowing me to use figures from the paper. Copyright © 2018 by the Society for Conservation Biology. All rights reserved.

Indirect effects of the lionfish invasion

I’m old enough to remember when ecological studies of invasive species were uncommon.  Early on, there was a debate within the ecological community whether they should be called “invasive” (which conveyed to some people an aggressive image akin to a military invasion) or more dispassionately “exotic” or “introduced.” Lionfish (Pterois volitans), however, fit this more aggressive moniker. Native to the south Pacific and Indian Oceans, lionfish were first sighted in south Florida in 1985, and became established along the east Atlantic coast and Caribbean Islands by the early 2000s. They are active and voracious predators, consuming over 50 different species of prey in their newly-adopted habitat. Many population ecologists study the direct consumptive effects of invasive species such as lionfish.  In some cases they find that an invasive species may deplete its prey population to very low levels, and even drive it to extinction.

Lionfish

A lionfish swims in a reef. Credit: Tye Kindinger

But things are not always that simple. Tye Kindinger realized that lionfish (or any predator that feeds on more than one species) could influence prey populations in several different ways.  For the present study, Kindinger considered two different prey species – the fairy basslet (Gramma loreto) and the blackcap basslet (Gramma melacara). Both species feed primarily on zooplankton, with larger individuals monopolizing prime feeding locations at the front of reef ledges, while smaller individuals are forced to feed at the back of ledges where plankton are less abundant, and predators are more common.  Thus there is intense competition both within and between these two species for food and habitat. Kindinger reasoned that if lionfish depleted one of these competing species more than the other, they could be indirectly benefiting the second species by releasing it from competition.

Basslets

Fairy basslet (top) and blackcap basslet (bottom). Credit Tye Kindinger.

For her PhD research, Kindinger set up an experiment in which she manipulated both lionfish abundance and the abundance of each basslet species.  She created high density and low density lionfish reefs by capturing most of the lionfish from one reef and transferring them to another (a total of three reefs of each density).  She manipulated basslet density on each reef by removing either fairy or blackcap basslets from an isolated reef ledge within a particular reef.  This experimental design allowed her to separate out the effects of predation by lionfish from the effects of competition between the two basslet species.  Most of her results pertained to juveniles, which were about 2 cm long and favored by the lionfish.

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Alex Davis

Alex Davis captures and removes basslets beneath a ledge. Credit Tye Kindinger.

Kindinger measured basslet abundance in grams of basslet biomass per m2 of ledge area.  When lionfish were abundant, juvenile fairy basslet abundance decreased over the eight weeks of the experiment (dashed line) but did not change when lionfish were rare (solid line).  In contrast, juvenile blackcap basslet populations remained steady over the course of the study, whether lionfish were abundant or rare. Kindinger concluded that lionfish were eating more fairy basslets.

KindingerFig12A

Abundance of juvenile fairy basslets (left) and blackcap basslets (right) as measured as change in overall biomass. Triangles represent high lionfish reefs and circles are low lionfish reefs.

Competition is intense between the two basslet species, and can affect feeding position and growth rate.  Kindinger’s manipulations of lionfish density and basslet density demonstrate that fairy basslet foraging and growth depend primarily on the abundance of their blackcap competitors. When competitor blackcap basslets are common (approach a biomass value of 1.0 on the x-axis on the two graphs below), fairy basslets tend to move towards the back of the ledge, and grow more slowly.  This occurs at both high and low lionfish densities.

KindingerFig1BC

Change in feeding position (top) and growth rate (bottom) of fairy basslets in relation to competitor (blackcap basslet) abundance (x-axis) and lionfish abundance (triangles = high, circles = low)

In contrast, blackcap basslets had an interactive response to fairy basslet and lionfish abundance. Let’s look first at low lionfish densities (circles in the graphs below).  You can see that blackcap basslets tend to move towards the back of the ledge (poor feeding position) at high competitor (fairy basslet) biomass, and also grow very slowly.  But when lionfish are common (triangles in the graphs below), blackcap basslets retain a favorable feeding position and grow quickly, even at high fairy basslet abundance.

KindingerFig2BC

Change in feeding position (top) and growth rate (bottom) of blackcap basslets in relation to competitor (fairy basslet) abundance (x-axis) and lionfish abundance (triangles = high, circles = low)

By preying primarily on fairy basslets, lionfish are changing the dynamics of competition between the two species. The diagram below nicely summarizes the process.  Larger fish of both species forage near the front of the ledge, while smaller fish forage further back.  But there is an even distribution of both species.  Focusing on juveniles, they are relatively evenly distributed in the rear portion of the ledge (Figure B).  When fairy basslets are removed experimentally, the juvenile blackcap basslets move to the front of the rear portion of the ledge, as they are released from competition with fairy basslets (Figure D).  Finally, when lionfish are abundant, fairy basslets are eaten more frequently, and juvenile blackcaps benefit from the lack of competition (Figure F)

KindingerFig3

Kindinger was very surprised with the results of this study because she knew the lionfish were generalist predators that eat both basslet species, so she expected lionfish to have similar effects on both prey species.  But they didn’t, and she does not know why.  Do lionfish prefer to eat fairy basslets due to increased conspicuousness or higher activity levels, or are blackcap basslets better at escaping lionfish predators? Whatever the mechanism, this study highlights that indirect effects of predation by invasive species can influence prey populations in unexpected ways.

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Ecology. The reference is Kindinger, T. L. (2018). Invasive predator tips the balance of symmetrical competition between native coral‐reef fishes. Ecology99(4), 792-800. Thanks to the Ecological Society of America for allowing me to use figures from the paper. Copyright © 2018 by the Ecological Society of America. All rights reserved.

Mangroves partner with rats in China

Many of us have seen firsthand the havoc that invasive plants can wreak on ecosystems.  We are accustomed to think of native plants as unable to defend themselves, much like a skinny little kid surrounded by a group of playground bullies. ‘Not so fast’ says Yihui Zhang.  As it turns out, many native plants can defend themselves against invasions, and they do so with the help of unlikely allies.

In southern China, mangrove marshes are being invaded by the salt marsh cordgrass, Spartina alterniflora, which is native to the eastern USA coastline. Cordgrass seeds can float into light gaps among the mangroves, and then germinate and choke out mangrove seedlings.  However, intact mangrove forests can resist cordgrass invasion.  Zhang and his colleagues wanted to know how they resist.

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Cordgrass (pale green) meets mangrove (bright green) as viewed from space. Credit: Yihui Zhang.

Cordgrass was introduced into China in 1979 to reduce coastal erosion.  It proved up to the task, quickly transforming mudflats into dense cordgrass stands, and choking out much of the native plant community.  Dense mangrove forests grow near river channels that enter the ocean, and are considerably taller than their cordgrass competitors.  The last player in this interaction is a native rat, Rattus losea, which often nests on mangrove canopies above the high tide level. At the research site (Yunxiao), many rat nests were built on mangroves, using cordgrass leaves and stems as the building material.

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Rat nest constructed from cordgrass shoots rests upon a mangrove tree.  Credit Yihui Zhang.

Zhang and his colleagues suspected that cordgrass invasion into the mangrove forest was prevented by both competition from mangroves and herbivory by rats on cordgrass.

Baby rat in the nest

Baby rats in their nest. Credit Yihui Zhang.

 

To test this hypothesis, they built cages to exclude rats from three different habitats: open mudflats (primarily pure stands of cordgrass), the forest edge, and the mangrove forest understory, (with almost no cordgrass). They set up control plots that also had cages, but that still allowed rats to enter.

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Arrow points to resprouting cordgrass. Credit Yihui Zhang.

The researchers planted 6 cordgrass ramets (genetically identical pieces of live plant) in each plot and then monitored rodent grazing, resprouting of original shoots following grazing, and shoot survival over the next 70 days.

They discovered that the cages worked; no rats grazed inside the cages.  But in the control plots, grazing was highest in the forest understory and lowest in the mudflats (Top figure below).  Most important, both habitat type and exposure to grazing influenced cordgrass survival.  In the understory, rodent grazing was very important; only one ramet survived in the control plots, while 46.7% of ramets survived if rats were excluded.  In the other two habitats, grazing did not affect ramet survival, which was very high with or without grazing (Middle figure). Rodent grazing effectively eliminated resprouting of ramets in the understory, but not in the other two habitats (Bottom figure).

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Impact of rat grazing on cordgrass in the field study in three different habitats.  Top figure is % of stems grazed, middle figure is transplant survival, and bottom figure is resprouting after grazing (there was no grazing in the rodent exclusion plots). Error bars are 1 standard error. Different letters above bars indicate significant differences between treatments.

The researchers suspected that low light levels in the understory were preventing cordgrass from resprouting after rat grazing. This was most easily tested in the greenhouse, where light conditions could be effectively controlled.  High light was 80% the intensity of outdoor sunlight, medium light was 33% (about what strikes the forest edge) and low light was 10% the intensity of outdoor sunlight (similar to mangrove understory light).  Rat grazing was simulated by cutting semi-circles on the stembase, pealing back the leaf sheath, and digging out the leaf tissue. Cordgrass ramets were planted in large pots, exposed to different light and grazing treatments, and monitored for survival, growth and resprouting following grazing.

Greenhouse setup

Cordgrass growing in greenhouse under different light treatments. Credit: Yihui Zhang.

Zhang and his colleagues found that simulated grazing sharply reduced cordgrass survival from 85% to 7% at low light intensity, but had no impact on survival at medium or high light intensities.  Cordgrass did not resprout after simulated grazing at low light intensity, in contrast to approximately 50% resprouting at medium and high light intensity.

ZhangFig4

Survival (top) and resprouting (bottom) of cordgrass following simulated grazing in the greenhouse experiment.

The researchers conclude that grazing by rats and shading by mangroves are two critical factors that make mangroves resistant to cordgrass invasion. Rats tend to build their nests near the mangrove forest edge, so it is not clear how far into the forest the rat effect extends. Rats do prefer to forage in the understory (rather than right along the edge), presumably because the understory helps to protect them from predators.  In essence, mangroves compete directly with cordgrass by shading them out, and also indirectly by attracting cordgrass-eating rats. Conservation biologists need to be aware of both direct and indirect effects when designing management programs for protecting endangered ecosystems such as mangrove forests.

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Ecology. The reference is Zhang, Y. , Meng, H. , Wang, Y. and He, Q. (2018), Herbivory enhances the resistance of mangrove forest to cordgrass invasion. Ecology. Accepted Author Manuscript. doi:10.1002/ecy.2233. Thanks to the Ecological Society of America for allowing me to use figures from the paper. Copyright © 2018 by the Ecological Society of America. All rights reserved.

Plant communities bank against drought

Many plants shed their young embryos (seeds) into the soil where they may accumulate in a dormant (non-growth) state over years before germinating (resuming growth and development). Ecologists describe this collection of seeds as a seed bank.  Marina LaForgia describes how scientists were able to germinate and grow to maturity some 32,000 year old Silene stenophylla seeds that was stashed, probably by an ancient squirrel, in the permafrost! With increased climatic variation predicted by most climate models, she wanted to know how environmental variability might affect germination of particular groups of species within a community.  In addition, she and her colleagues recognized that most ecological studies investigate community responses to disturbances by looking at the aboveground species.  It stands to reason that we should consider the below-surface seed bank as a window to how a community might respond in the future.

LaForgiaSeedlings

Some seedlings coming up from the seed bank. Credit:Marina LaForgia.

Seed banks can be viewed as a bet-hedging strategy that spreads out germination over several (or many) years to reduce the probability of catastrophic population decline in response to one severe disturbance, such as drought, flood or fire. In some California annual grassland communities, species diversity is dominated by annual forbs – nonwoody flowering plants that are not grasses. Many forbs produce seeds that can lie dormant in the seed banks for several years. Though these forbs are the most diverse group, there are also about 15 species of exotic annual grasses that dominate the landscape in abundance and cover. These grasses dominate because they produce up to 60,000 seeds per m2, they grow very quickly, and they build up a layer of thatch that suppresses native forbs. However, seeds from these grasses cannot lie dormant in the seed bank for very long.

 

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Area of field site dominated by Delphinium (purple flower) and Lasthenia (yellow flower).  Looking closely you can also see some tall grasses rising. Credit Marina LaForgia.

How is drought affecting these two major components of the plant community? LaForgia and her colleagues answered this question by collecting seeds from a northern California grassland at the University of California McLaughlin Natural Reserve in fall 2012 (beginning of the drought) and fall 2014 (near the end of the drought). They used a 5-cm diameter 10-cm deep cylindrical sampler  to collect soil and associated seeds from 80 different plots.  The researchers also used these same plots to estimate aboveground-cover, and to identify the aboveground species that were present. The research team germinated and identified more than 11,000 seeds.

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Plants germinating in the greenhouse. Credit Marina LaForgia.

The researchers knew from previous work on aboveground vegetation that exotic annual grasses declined very sharply in response to drought.  In contrast, the native forbs did relatively well, in part depending on their specific leaf area (SLA) – a measure of relative leaf size, with low SLA plants conserving water more efficiently. It seemed reasonable that these same patterns would be reflected belowground. Recall that most grass seeds are incapable of extended dormancy, while many forbs can remain dormant for several years. Consequently, LaForgia and her colleagues expected that grass abundance in the seed bank would decline more sharply than would forb abundance. In addition, they expected that high SLA forbs would not do as well as low SLA forbs during drought.

The researchers discovered very sharp differences between the two groups over the course of the drought. Exotic annual grasses declined sharply in the seed bank, while native annual forb abundance tripled.  Aboveground cover of grasses declined considerably, while aboveground cover of forbs increased modestly.  Clearly the exotic grasses were suffering from the drought, while the forbs were doing quite well.

LaForgiaFig1

(a) Seed bank abundance of grasses (red circles) and forbs (blue triangles) at beginning of drought (2012) and near end of drought (2014). (b) Percent cover of grasses (red circles) and forbs (blue triangles) at beginning of drought (2012) and near end of drought (2014). Data are based on samples from 80 plots. Error bars indicate one standard error.

We can see these differences on an individual species basis, with most of the grasses declining modestly or sharply in abundance, while most of the forbs increased.

LaForgiaFig2

Mean change in seed bank abundance per species based on 15 exotic grass species and 81 native forb species.

It is not surprising that the grasses do so poorly during the drought.  Presumably, less water causes poorer germination, growth, survival and seed production.  In addition, because grass seeds have a low capacity for dormancy, grass abundance will tend to decrease in the seed bank very quickly with such a low infusion of new seeds.

But why are the forbs actually doing better with less water available to them?  One explanation is that grass abundance and cover declined sharply, causing the forbs to experience reduced competition with grasses that might otherwise inhibit their growth, development and reproductive success. The tripling of native forbs in the seed bank was much greater than the 14% increase in aboveground forb cover.  The researchers reason that the drought caused many of the forb seeds to remain dormant, leading to them building up in the seed bank. This was particularly the case for low SLA forbs, which increased much more than did high SLA forbs in the seed bank.

We can understand exotic grass behavior in the context of their place of origin – the Mediterranean basin, which tends to have wet winters.  In that environment, natural selection favored individuals that germinated quickly, grew fast and made lots of babies. Since their introduction to California in the mid 1800s, 2014 was the driest year on record.  It will be fascinating to see if these exotic grasses can recover when, and if, wetter conditions return.  Can we bank on it?

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Ecology. The reference is LaForgia, M.L., Spasojevic, M.J., Case, E.J., Latimer, A.M. and Harrison, S.P., 2018. Seed banks of native forbs, but not exotic grasses, increase during extreme drought. Ecology99 (4): 896-903. Thanks to the Ecological Society of America for allowing me to use figures from the paper. Copyright © 2018 by the Ecological Society of America. All rights reserved.

Too much of a good thing is killing Monarch butterflies

There was a time in the mid-Pleisticine when a photo of an ecological event was an awesome novelty, and a movie of an ecological event even more so.  Dodderers of an ecological bent (myself included), can vividly recall viewing a series of photos or a movie, either in a seminar or in an ancient ecology text, of a blue jay consuming a monarch butterfly, Danaus plexippus.  Consumption is immediately followed by explosive vomiting, as the cardenolides within the monarch butterfly claim another victim.  The monarch sequesters these cardenolide toxins from its larval food (milkweed), and incorporates them into its tissues as a means of protecting itself from predators – presumably blue jays learn from this very aversive experience.  I should point out that the individual sacrificial butterfly enjoys no fitness from this learning event – which raises some evolutionary questions we will not explore at the present.

Karen Oberhauser

Five instars (stages of development) of monarch caterpillars on a milkweed leaf. Credit: Karen Oberhauser

Rather we turn our attention to the relationship between milkweed, monarchs, and climate change. In several places in this blog we’ve talked about how climate change has influenced the behavior or physiology of a single species. For example, my first blog (Jan 31, 2017) discusses how increasing temperatures create more females in a loggerhead turtle population. But there are fewer studies that explore how climate change influences the ecological landscape, ultimately affecting interactions between species.  Along these lines, Matt Faldyn wondered if increased air temperature would change the chemical constitution of milkweed in a way that might influence monarch populations.  As he describes, “With milkweed toxicity, there is a ‘goldilocks’ zone where monarchs prefer to feed on milkweed that produce enough toxins in order to sequester these (cardenolide) chemicals as an antipredator/antiparasite defense, while also avoiding reaching a tipping point of toxicity where feeding on very toxic milkweeds negatively impacts monarch fitness.” He expected that at higher temperatures, milkweed would become stressed, and be physiologically unable to sustain normal levels of cardenolide production.

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Monarch butterfly feeds on a native milkweed, Asclepias incarnata. Credit: Teune at the English Language Wikipedia.

For their research, Faldyn and his colleagues worked with two milkweed species.  Asclepias incarnata is a common, native milkweed found throughout the monarch butterfly’s range in the eastern and southeastern United States.  Asclepias curassavica is an exotic species that has become established in the southern United States.  In contrast to A. incarnata, A. curassavica does not die back over the winter months; consequently some monarch populations are no longer migratory, relying on A. curassavicato provide them with a year round food supply.

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The exotic milkweed, Asclepias curassavica. Credit: 2016 Jee & Rani Nature Photography (License: CC BY-SA 4.0)

To protect against herbivory, milkweeds have two primary chemical deterrants: (1) the already-mentioned cardenolides, which are toxic steroids that disrupt cell membrane function, and (2) release of sticky latex, which can gum up caterpillar mouthparts and actually trap young caterpillars.

field_noborderii.jpgThe researchers wanted to simulate climate change under field conditions, so they created open-top chambers with plexiglass plates that functioned much like mini-greenhouses, into which they placed one milkweed plant that was covered with butterfly netting.  This setup raised ambient temperatures by about 3°C during the day and 0.2°C at nighttime.  Control plots were single milkweed plants with butterfly netting. Half of the plants were native milkweed, and the other half were the exotic species.

For their experiments, Faldyn and his colleagues introduced 80 monarch caterpillars (one per plant) and allowed them to feed normally until they pupated.  Pupae were brought into the lab and allowed to metamorphose into adults.

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Matt Faldyn holds two monarch butterflies in the laboratory. Credit Matt Faldyn.

At normal (ambient) temperatures, monarchs survived somewhat better on exotic milkweed.  But at warmer temperatures, there is a strikingly different picture. Monarch survival is unaffected by warmer temperatures on native milkweed, but is sharply reduced by warmer temperatures on exotic milkweed (top graph below). The few that managed to survive warm temperatures on exotic milkweed grew much smaller, based on their body mass and forewing length (middle and bottom graph below)

FaldynFig1

Survival (top), adult mass (middle) and forewing length (bottom) of monarch butterflies raised under normal (ambient) and warmed temperatures.  Error bars are 95% confidence intervals.

Both milkweed species increased production of both types of chemicals over the course of the experiment. But by the end of the experiment, the exotic species released 3-times the quantity of latex and 13-times the quantity of cardenolides than did the native milkweed species.

FaldynFig2

Average amount of latex released at the beginning and end of the experiment.  Error bars are 95% confidence intervals.

FaldynFig2

Average cardenolide concentration at the beginning and end of the experiment.

The researchers argue that the exotic milkweed, Asclepias curassavica, may become an ecological trap for monarch butterflies, in that it attracts monarchs to feed on it, but will, under future warmer conditions, result in dramatically reduced monarch survival. Interestingly, these results are not what Faldyn originally expected; recall that he anticipated that temperature-stressed plants would reduce cardenolide production. The tremendous increase in cardenolide production in exotic milkweed at warmer temperatures may simply be too much toxin for the monarchs to process. The researchers predict that as climate warms, milkweed ranges will expand further north into Canada, and lead to northward shifts of monarch populations as well.  They urge nurseries to emphasize the distribution of native rather than exotic milkweed, so that monarchs will be less likely to become victims of this ecological trap.

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Ecology. The reference is Faldyn, M. J., Hunter, M. D. and Elderd, B. D. (2018), Climate change and an invasive, tropical milkweed: an ecological trap for monarch butterflies. Ecology. doi:10.1002/ecy.2198. Thanks to the Ecological Society of America for allowing me to use figures from the paper. Copyright © 2018 by the Ecological Society of America. All rights reserved.

Saguaro survival: establishing an icon

Having grown up in the New York metropolitan area, my only contact with the saguaro cactus, Carnegiea gigantea, was from several TV westerns, which dubiously placed these mammoth cacti in New Mexico, Texas and Colorado.  In fact, the saguaro is limited to the Sonoran Desert of northwestern Mexico, extreme southeast California and southern and central Arizona. You won’t find these cacti further north, because a freeze lasting more than 24 hours kills them.  I still remember my first real sighting of these cacti; I was amazed at how distinct they seemed in comparison to the other vegetation, and I delighted in their abundance.

Daniel Winkler - Saguaro Photo 1

Dense patch of saguaros. Credit: Daniel Winkler

Many others delight in their abundance as well.  The flowers, fruits and seeds feed many animals (including humans).  They were an important food for the Tohono O’odham and Pima Indians – eaten fresh or converted into numerous products including wine, juice, jam and syrup.

Daniel Winkler - Saguaro Photo 2

Large saguaro with many fruits emanating from the apex of its branches. Credit: Daniel Winkler

Woodpeckers and flickers excavate nests in the saguaro’s trunk, which are subsequently occupied by other animals such as snakes, arthropods and small mammals.

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Saguaro with nest cavity excavated near the top of its trunk. Credit: Daniel Winkler

Daniel Winkler also delighted in the saguaro’s awesomeness. As he describes “I fell in love with answering some basic ecology questions about the saguaro. I was surprised that scientists had been studying this wonderful plant for almost 100 years and there were still many basic questions about the species general biology and ecology that remained unanswered. Thus, I was hooked immediately and became obsessed with saguaro.”

Don Swann - Photo of D. Winkler with young saguaros

Daniel Winkler with young saguaros. Credit: Don Swann

Winkler and his colleagues wanted to know how moisture, temperature and habitat influence the establishment or survival of juvenile saguaro seedlings. Previous research had shown that saguaro height can be used to estimate saguaro age, given knowledge of previous rainfall in a particular area. So buoyed by an army of citizen scientists whom they recruited with the help of social media, student groups from schools and volunteers working at the Saguaro National Park, the research team estimated the age of every saguaro on 36 4-ha plots (1 ha = 10,000 m2).

Going into the study, the researchers knew that rainfall was a very important factor, with saguaros surviving better during wet periods.  But they also knew that historically, some areas located near each other showed different establishment trends, thus they suspected that other variables, particularly land use and other landscape factors, might be important.  They did their research in two different districts within the park: 21 plots in the Rincon Mountain District (RMD) on the east side of the park, and 15 plots in the Tucson Mountain District (TMD) to the west. They classified each plot as a particular habitat type based on slope, elevation and soil-type. Bajada was low elevation, flat and had gravelly porous soils.  Foothills were intermediate elevation and intermediate slope, while sloped habitats had highest elevation, steepest slope, and the coarsest rockiest soils.

Daniel Winkler - Saguaro Photo 4

Panoramic view of Saguaro National Park showing diversity of habitats. Credit: Daniel Winkler.

Winkler and his colleagues calculated the Palmer Drought Severity Index (PDSI) for the years 1950-2003. The PDSI quantifies the water balance between precipitation and evapotranspiration, taking into account not only rainfall but also other factors such as temperature and cloud cover.  The PDSI was estimated by assessing tree ring width for each year in nearby woodlands; wet conditions have wide tree rings (maximum PDSI value = +6), while dry years have narrow tree rings (minimum PDSI value = -6).

The researchers discovered a very strong association between the PDSI and seedling establishment. Low PDSI at the beginning and especially the end of the time frame was associated with low seedling establishment, while high PDSI (particularly in the 1980s was associated with high rates of seedling establishment (top graph below).  But other patterns emerged as well.  For example, establishment was higher in the TMD during the wettest years, but higher in the RMD during the most recent drought (bottom graph below).

WinklerFig1

Top. Total number of saguaros (left Y-axis) established per hectare from 1950-2003 in relation to PDSI (dashed line, right Y-axis). Bottom. Total number of saguaros established per hectare in the Tucson Mountain District (TMD – filled bars) and the Rincon Mountain District (RMD – open bars)  from 1950-2003 in relation to PDSI (dashed line, right Y-axis).

Saguaro establishment increased in all habitats when conditions were relatively wet (more positive PDSI values).  Under drought conditions, slopes had greatest saguaro establishment, while establishment increased more rapidly in foothills (and to a lesser extent in Bajadas) as moisture levels increased.

WinklerFig2

Model projecting number of saguaros established in the three major habitats in relation to PDSI.  Shaded regions are 95% confidence intervals.

The researchers were surprised at how tight the connection was between drought and saguaro establishment. But landscape features are also important.  The TMD is warmer and dryer than the nearby RMD, and had substantially lower establishment during the recent drought. The slopes in the RMD are steeper and rockier than sloped areas of the TMD, and may buffer saguaros from drought by capturing water in rock crevices and holding it for longer periods of time so it can be absorbed by saguaro roots. Nurse trees that provide shade to young saguaros may also be more common on the RMD slopes.

Winkler and his colleagues are concerned about the long-term impacts of climate change on saguaro populations, particularly in the drier areas of the TMD. They urge researchers to explore how long-term management of grazing and invasive species influences saguaro establishment across the landscape.  They also encourage researchers to gather some very basic data about saguaros, such as how they access water and how human water use patterns influence the water’s availability to this iconic species.

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Ecology. The reference is Winkler, D. E., Conver, J. L., Huxman, T. E. and Swann, D. E. (2018), The interaction of drought and habitat explain space–time patterns of establishment in saguaro (Carnegiea gigantea). Ecology 99: 621-631. doi:10.1002/ecy.2124. Thanks to the Ecological Society of America for allowing me to use figures from the paper. Copyright © 2018 by the Ecological Society of America. All rights reserved.

Predators and livestock – “stayin’ alive.”

President Donald Trump was elected on a platform that included building a great wall whose purpose was to keep out unwanted intruders from the south, and that would be paid for (apparently magically) by these same intruders.  The idea of building a great wall has been around for a long time; the Great Wall of China was constructed over a time period of almost two thousand years to keep out unwanted intruders (this time from the north). Not surprisingly, the cost of that Great Wall was not borne by the unwanted intruders. More recently, in the 1880s, the government of Australia constructed a 5500 km fence designed to keep unwanted dingoes away from sheep that pasture in southeastern Australia. As Lily van Eeden describes, the Australian government spends about $10 million dollars per year to maintain the fence but there are almost no data to compare livestock losses on either side of the fence. Thus she and her colleagues decided to look at what was being done globally to evaluate the effectiveness of different methods of protecting livestock.

DingoFencePeter Woodard

The Dingo fence across southeastern Australia. Credit Peter Woodard.

The researchers grouped livestock protection approaches into five different categories: lethal control, livestock guardian animals such as dogs, llamas and alpacas, fencing, shepherding and deterrents. Lethal control includes using poison baits and systematic culling of populations of top predators. Deterrents include aversive conditioning of problem predators, chemical, auditory or visual repellents, and protection devices such as livestock protection collars.

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A guardian dog emerges from the midst of its flock in Bulgaria. Credit: Sider Sedefchev.

Van Eeden and her colleagues then did a meta-analysis to see which approach worked best. You can check out my blog from Aug. 2, 2017 (“Meta-analysis measures multiple mycorrhizal benefits to plants”) for a more detailed discussion of meta-analyses. Very briefly a meta-analysis is a systematic analysis of data collected by many other researchers. This is challenging because each study uses slightly different techniques and has different levels of rigor. For this meta-analysis, van Eeden and her colleagues used only two types of studies. One type is a before/after design, in which researchers kept data on livestock loss before the mitigation treatment as well as after. The second type is a control-impact design, in which there was a control group set aside, which did not receive the mitigation treatment. Each study also needed sample sizes (number of herds and/or number of years), means and standard deviations, and had to be run for at least two months to be used in the meta-analysis.

The researchers searched several databases (Web of Science, SCOPUS and European Commission LIFE project), Google Scholar, and also used more informal sources, to collect a total of more than 3300 records. However, after imposing the requirements for types of experimental design and data output, only 40 studies remained for the meta-analysis. Based on these data, all five mitigation approaches reduced predation on livestock. The effect size in the figure below compares livestock loss with the treatment to livestock loss without the treatment, so that a negative value indicates that the treatment is associated with reduced livestock loss. The researchers conclude that all five approaches are somewhat effective, but the large confidence intervals (the whiskers in the graph) make it difficult to unequivocally recommend one approach over another. The effectiveness of lethal control was particularly variable (hence the huge confidence interval), as three studies showed an increase in livestock loss associated with lethal control.

van EedenFig2

Mean effect size (Hedges’ d) and confidence intervals for five methods used to mitigate conflict between predators and livestock.  More negative effect size indicates a more effective treatment. Numbers in parentheses are number of studies used for calculating mean effect size.

Finding that non-lethal management is as effective (or possibly more effective) than lethal control tells us that we should probably be very careful about intentionally killing large carnivores, since, in addition to being cool animals that deserve a right to exist, they also perform some important ecosystem services. For example, in Australia, there are probably more dingoes northwest of the fence than there are south of the fence, so exclusion may  be working. However there is some evidence that there are also more kangaroos and rabbits south of the fence, which could be an unintended consequence of fewer predatory dingoes. Kangaroos and rabbits eat lots of grass, so keeping dingoes away could ultimately be harming the sheep populations. Dingoes may also kill or compete with invasive foxes and feral cats, which have both been shown to drive native species to extinction, so excluding dingoes may increase foxes and cats, threatening native species.  Van Eeden and her colleagues argue that different mitigation approaches work in different contexts, but that we desperately need evidence in the form of standardized evaluative studies to understand which approach is most suitable in a particular context.

van Eeden Fig.3

Context-specific approach to managing the co-exstence of predators and livestock.

In all contexts, cultural and economic factors interact in mitigating conflict between humans and carnivores. The dingo is officially labeled as a wild dog, which invaded Australia relatively recently (about 4000 years ago), so the public perception is that this species has a limited historical role. Other cultures may have a different view of their predators. For example, the Lion Guardian project in Kenya, which trains and supports community members to protect lions, has successfully built tolerance for lions by incorporating Maasai community cultural values and belief systems.

To use a phrase that President Trump recently forbade the Centers for Disease Control to use in their reports, our decisions about predator mitigation should be “evidence-based.” We need more controlled studies that address the success of different mitigation approaches in particular contexts. We also must understand the costs of removing predators from an ecosystem, as predator removal can initiate a cascade of unintended consequences.

note: the paper that describes this research is from the journal Conservation Biology. The reference is van Eeden, L. M., Crowther, M. S., Dickman, C. R., Macdonald, D. W., Ripple, W. J., Ritchie, E. G. and Newsome, T. M. (2018), Managing conflict between large carnivores and livestock. Conservation Biology, 32: 26–34. doi:10.1111/cobi.12959. Thanks to the Society for Conservation Biology for allowing me to use figures from the paper. Copyright © 2018 by the Society for Conservation Biology. All rights reserved.