Engineers are taking a counterintuitive approach to protecting future spacecraft: shooting at their experiments. The image above and high-speed video below capture a 2.8-millimeter aluminum bullet plowing through a test material for a space shield at 7 kilometers per second. The work is an effort to find structures that could stand up to the impact of space debris.
Earth is surrounded by a cloud of debris, both natural — such as micrometeorites and comet dust, which create meteor showers — and unnatural, including dead satellites and the cast-off detritus of space launches. Those pieces of flotsam can damage other spacecraft if they collide at high speeds, and bits smaller than about a centimeter are hard to track and avoid, says ESA materials engineer Benoit Bonvoisin in a statement. To defend future spacecraft from taking a hit, Bonvoisin and colleagues are developing armor made from fiber metal laminates, or several thin metal layers bonded together. The laminates are arranged in multiple layers separated by 10 to 30 centimeters, a configuration called a Whipple shield.
In this experiment at the Fraunhofer Institute for High-Speed Dynamics in Germany, the first layer shatters the aluminum bullet into a cloud of smaller pieces, which the second layer is able to deflect. This configuration has been used for decades, but the materials are new. The next step is to test the shield in orbit with a small CubeSat, Bonvoisin says.
Nature may have a few things to teach tennis players about backspin.
The hairyflower wild petunia (Ruellia ciliatiflora) shoots seeds that spin up to 1,660 times per second, which helps them fly farther, researchers report March 7 in Journal of the Royal Society Interface. These seeds have the fastest known rotations of any plant or animal, the authors say. Plants that disperse seeds a greater distance are likely to be more successful in reproducing and spreading. Glue that holds the flower’s podlike fruit together breaks down on contact with water, allowing the fruit to split explosively, launching millimeter-sized seeds. Little hooks inside the pod help fling these flattened discs at speeds of around 10 meters per second.
Using high-speed cameras that record 20,000 frames per second, the researchers analyzed the seeds’ flight. “Our first thought was: ‘Why doesn’t this throw like a Frisbee?’” says Dwight Whitaker, an applied physicist at Pomona College, in Claremont, Calif. Instead of spinning horizontally, most seeds spin counterclockwise vertically, like a bicycle wheel in reverse.
Whitaker and his colleagues calculated that backspin should help stabilize the seeds as they travel through the air, reducing drag. Experiments backed this up: Stable “spinners” had less drag on average than “floppers,” seeds that tumbled as they fell. Simulations predict that lower drag lets spinners travel 6.7 meters on average — more than twice as far on average as floppers.
Meet STEVE, a newfound type of aurora that drapes the sky with a mauve ribbon and bedazzling green bling.
This feature of the northern lights, recently photographed and named by citizen scientists in Canada, now has a scientific explanation. The streak of color, which appears to the south of the main aurora, may be a visible version of a typically invisible process involving drifting charged particles, or ions, physicist Elizabeth MacDonald and colleagues report March 14 in Science Advances. Measurements from ground-based cameras and a satellite that passed when STEVE was in full swing show that the luminous band was associated with a strong flow of ions in the upper atmosphere, MacDonald, of NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Md., and colleagues conclude. But the researchers can’t yet say how a glow arises from this flow.
Part of a project called Aurorasaurus (SN Online: 4/3/15), the citizen scientists initially gave the phenomenon its moniker before its association with ion drift was known. MacDonald and colleagues kept the name, but gave it a backronym: “Strong Thermal Emission Velocity Enhancement.”
Immediately after a 19-year-old shot and killed 17 people and wounded 17 others at a Florida high school on Valentine’s Day, people leaped to explain what had caused the latest mass slaughter.
By now, it’s a familiar drill: Too many readily available guns. Too much untreated mental illness. Too much warped masculinity. Don’t forget those shoot-’em-up video games and movies. Add (or repeat, with voice raised) your own favorite here.
Now the national debate has received an invigorated dose of activism. Inspired by students from the targeted Florida high school, as many as 500,000 people are expected to rally against gun violence and in favor of stricter gun laws on March 24 in Washington, D.C., with sister marches taking place in cities across the world. But a big problem haunts the justifiable outrage over massacres of innocents going about their daily affairs: Whatever we think we know about school shootings, or mass public shootings in general, is either sheer speculation or wrong. A science of mass shootings doesn’t exist.
“There is little good research on what are probably a host of problems contributing to mass violence,” says criminologist Grant Duwe of the Minnesota Department of Corrections in St. Paul. Duwe has spent more than two decades combing through federal crime records and newspaper accounts to track trends in mass killings. Perhaps this dearth of data is no surprise. Research on any kind of gun violence gets little federal funding (SN Online: 3/9/18; SN: 5/14/16, p. 16). Criminologist James Alan Fox of Northeastern University in Boston has argued for more than 20 years that crime researchers mostly ignore mass shootings. Some of these researchers assume that whatever causes people to commit any form of murder explains mass shootings. Others regard mass killings as driven by severe mental disorders, thus falling outside the realm of crime studies.
When a research vacuum on a matter of public safety meets a 24-hour news cycle juiced up on national anguish, a thousand speculations bloom. “Everybody’s an expert on this issue, but we’re relying on anecdotes,” says sociologist Michael Rocque of Bates College in Lewiston, Maine.
Rocque and Duwe published a review of what’s known about reasons for mass public shootings, sometimes called rampage shootings, in the February Current Opinion in Psychology. Their conclusion: not much. Scientific ignorance on this issue is especially concerning given that Rocque and Duwe describe a slight, but not unprecedented, recent uptick in the national rate of rampage shootings. Shooting stats Defining mass public shootings to track their frequency is tricky. A consensus among researchers is emerging that these events occur in public places, include at least four people killed by gunshots within a 24-hour period and are not part of a robbery or any other separate crime, Rocque and Duwe say. Such incidents include workplace and school shootings. Overall, mass public shootings are rare, Duwe says, though intense media coverage may suggest the opposite. Even less obvious is that rampage shootings have been occurring for at least 100 years.
Using Federal Bureau of Investigation homicide reports, Congressional Research Service data on mass shootings and online archives of news accounts about multiple murders, Duwe has tracked U.S. rates of mass public shootings from 1915 to 2017.
He has identified a total of 185 such events through 2017, 150 of which have occurred since 1966. (In 2016, he published results up to 2013 in the Wiley Handbook of the Psychology of Mass Shootings.) In the earliest known case, from 1915, a Georgia man shot five people dead in the street, after killing an attorney he blamed for financial losses, and wounded 32 others. Another lawyer, who came to the crime scene upon hearing gunshots and was wounded by a bullet, ended the rampage when he grabbed a pistol from a hardware store and killed the shooter.
What stands out more than a century later is that, contrary to popular opinion, mass public shooting rates have not ballooned to record highs. While the average rate of these crimes has increased since 2005, it’s currently no greater than rates for some earlier periods. Crime trends are usually calculated as rates per 100,000 people for, say, robberies and assaults. But because of the small number of mass public shootings, Duwe calculates annual rates per 100 million people in the United States.
The average annual rate of mass public shootings since 2010 is about 1.44 per 100 million people. That roughly equals the 1990s rate of 1.41, Duwe finds.
The average annual rate from 1988 to 1993 reached 1.52, about the same as the 1.51 rate from 2007 to 2012. After dropping to just below 1 per 100 million people in 2013 and 2014, rates increased to nearly 1.3 the next three years.
From 1994 to 2004, rates mostly hovered around 1 per 100 million people or below, but spiked to over 2.5 in 1999. That’s the year two teens killed 13 people at Columbine High School in Colorado.
In contrast, rates were minuscule from 1950 to 1965, when only three mass public shootings were recorded. The average annual rate for 1970 to 1979 reached 0.52, based on 13 mass public shootings.
Numbers of people killed and wounded per shooting incident have risen in the last decade, though. Two events in 2012 were particularly horrific. Shootings at a movie theater in Aurora, Colo., and an elementary school in Newtown, Conn., resulted in 40 murders, many of children, and 60 nonfatal gunshot wounds. Whether this trend reflects an increasing use of guns with large-capacity magazines or other factors “is up for grabs,” Duwe says. The unknowns No good evidence exists that either limiting or loosening gun access would reduce mass shootings, Rocque says. Virtually no research has examined whether a federal ban on assault weapons from 1994 to 2004 contributed to the relatively low rate of mass public shootings during that period. The same questions apply to concealed-carry laws, promoted as a way to deter rampage killers. As a gun owner and longtime hunter in his home state of Maine, Rocque calls for “an evidence-based movement” to establish links between gun laws and trends in mass shootings.
Mental illness also demands closer scrutiny, Duwe says. Of 160 mass public shooters from 1915 to 2013, about 60 percent had been assigned a psychiatric diagnosis or had shown signs of serious mental illness before the attack, Duwe has found. In general, mental illness is not linked to becoming violent. But, he says, many mass shooters are tormented and paranoid individuals who want to end their painful lives after evening the score with those they feel have wronged them.
Masculinity also regularly gets raised as a contributor to mass public shootings. It’s a plausible idea, since males committed all but one of the tragedies in Duwe’s review. Sociologist Michael Kimmel of Stony Brook University in New York contends that a sense of wounded masculinity as a result of various life failures inspires rage and even violence. But researchers have yet to examine how any facet of masculinity plays into school or workplace shootings, Rocque says.
Although school shooters often report feeling a desperate need to make up for having been inadequate as men, many factors contribute to their actions, argues clinical psychologist Peter Langman. Based in Allentown, Pa., Langman has interviewed and profiled several dozen school shooters in the United States and other countries. He divides perpetrators into three psychological categories: psychopathic (lacking empathy and concern for others), psychotic (experiencing paranoid delusions, hearing voices and having poor social skills) and traumatized (coming from families marked by drug addiction, sexual abuse and other severe problems).
But only a few of the millions of people who qualify for those categories translate their personal demons into killing sprees. Any formula to tag mass shooters in the making will inevitably round up lots of people who would never pose a deadly threat.
“There is no good evidence on what differentiates a bitter, aggrieved man from a bitter, aggrieved and dangerous man,” says psychologist Benjamin Winegard of Carroll College in Helena, Mont.
Nor does any published evidence support claims that being a bully or a victim of bullying, or watching violent video games and movies, leads to mass public shootings, Winegard contends. Bullying affects a disturbingly high proportion of youngsters and has been linked to later anxiety and depression (SN: 5/30/15, p. 12) but not to later violence. In laboratory studies, youngsters who play violent computer games or watch violent videos generally don’t become more aggressive or violent in experimental situations. Investigators have found that some school shooters, including the Newtown perpetrator, preferred playing nonviolent video games, Winegard says.
He and a colleague presented this evidence in the Wiley Handbook of the Psychology of Mass Shootings. Northeastern’s Fox also coauthored a chapter in that publication.
Still, a small but tragic group of kids lead lives that somehow turn them into killers of classmates or random strangers (SN: 5/27/06, p. 328). If some precise mix of, say, early brain damage, social ineptitude, paranoia and fury over life’s unfair twists cooks up mass killers, scientists don’t know the toxic recipe. And it won’t be easy to come up with one given the small number of mass public shooters to study.
Duwe recommends that researchers first do a better job of documenting the backgrounds of individual mass shooters and any events or experiences that may have precipitated their deadly actions. Then investigators can address broader social influences on mass shootings, including gun legislation and media coverage.
But more than a century after a distraught Georgia man mowed down six of his fellow citizens, research on mass violence still takes a backseat to public fear and outrage. “If we’re bemoaning the state of research,” Duwe says, “we have no one to blame but ourselves.”
To craft a new color-switching material, scientists have again taken inspiration from one of nature’s masters of disguise: the chameleon.
Thin films made of heart cells and hydrogel change hues when the films shrink or stretch, much like chameleon skin. This material, described online March 28 in Science Robotics, could be used to test new medications or possibly to build camouflaging robots.
The material is made of a paper-thin hydrogel sheet engraved with nanocrystal patterns, topped with a layer of living heart muscle cells from rats. These cells contract and expand — just as they would inside an actual rat heart to make it beat — causing the underlying hydrogel to shrink and stretch too. That movement changes the way light bounces off the etched crystal, making the material reflect more blue light when it contracts and more red light when it’s relaxed. This design is modeled after nanocrystals embedded in chameleon skin, which also reflect different colors of light when stretched (SN Online: 3/13/15).
When researchers treated the material with a drug normally used to boost heart rate, the films changed color more quickly — indicating the heart cells were pulsating more rapidly. That finding suggests the material could help drug developers monitor how heart cells react to new medications, says study coauthor Luoran Shang, a physicist at Southeast University in Nanjing, China. Or these kinds of films could also be used to make color-changing skins for soft robots, Shang says.
The center of the Milky Way may be abuzz with black holes. For the first time, a dozen small black holes have been spotted within the inner region of the galaxy in an area spanning just a few light-years — and there could be thousands more.
Astrophysicist Charles Hailey of Columbia University and his colleagues spotted the black holes thanks to the holes’ interactions with stars slowly spiraling inward, the team reports in Nature on April 4. Isolated black holes emit no light, but black holes stealing material from orbiting stars will heat that material until it emits X-rays. In 12 years of telescope data from NASA’s orbiting Chandra X-ray Observatory, Hailey and colleagues found 12 objects emitting the right X-ray energy to be black holes with stellar companions. Based on theoretical predictions of how many black holes are paired with stars, there should be up to 20,000 invisible solo black holes just in that small part of the galaxy. The discovery follows decades of astronomers searching for small black holes in the galactic center, where a supermassive black hole lives (SN: 3/4/17, p. 8). Theory predicted that the galaxy should contain millions or even 100 million black holes overall, with a glut of black holes piled up near the center (SN: 9/16/17, p. 7). But none had been found. “It was always kind of a mystery,” Hailey says. “If there’s so many that are supposed to be jammed into the central parsec [about 3.26 light-years], why haven’t we seen any evidence?” Finding the 12 was “really hard,” he admits.
It’s unclear how the black holes got to the galaxy’s center. Gravity could have tugged them toward the supermassive black hole. Or a new theory from Columbia astronomer Aleksey Generozov suggests black holes could be born in a disk around the supermassive black hole.
The researchers ruled out other objects emitting X-rays, such as neutron stars and white dwarfs, but acknowledged that up to half of the sources they found could be fast-spinning stellar corpses called millisecond pulsars rather than black holes. That could add to the debate over whether a mysterious excess in gamma rays at the galactic center is from pulsars or dark matter (SN: 12/23/17, p. 12).
“The theorists are going to have to slug it out and figure out what’s going on,” Hailey says.
Every few years, a buzz fills the air in the southeastern United States as adolescent cicadas crawl out from the soil to molt and make babies. After a childhood spent sipping tree sap underground, some species emerge every 13 years, others every 17 years, rarely overlapping. Yet somehow in this giant cicada orgy, hybridization happens between species that should be out of sync.
Researchers have sought to explain how the two life cycle lengths developed. A new study published online April 19 in Communications Biology fails to pin the difference on genetics, but finds some interesting things along the way. Cicadas fall into three species groups that diverged from one another about 3.9 million to 2.5 million years ago. Within each of those groups, species on a 13-year schedule diverged from 17-year-cycle cicadas about 200,000 to 100,000 years ago, the researchers from the United States and Japan report.
But the researchers also found that the 17-year and 13-year broods within each group share genetic code — evidence of hybridization. It’s possible that neighboring broods swapped DNA when their emergence overlapped — something that happens every 221 years — or if stragglers emerged early or late.
Everybody agrees that medical treatments should be based on sound evidence. Hardly anybody agrees on what sort of evidence counts as sound.
Sure, some people say the “gold standard” of medical evidence is the randomized controlled clinical trial. But such trials have their flaws, and translating their findings into sound real-world advice isn’t so straightforward. Besides, the best evidence rarely resides within any single study. Sound decisions come from considering the evidentiary database as a whole. That’s why meta-analyses are also a popular candidate for best evidence. And in principle, meta-analyses make sense. By aggregating many studies and subjecting them to sophisticated statistical analysis, a meta-analysis can identify beneficial effects (or potential dangers) that escape detection in small studies. But those statistical techniques are justified only if all the studies done on the subject can be obtained and if they all use essential similar methods on sufficiently similar populations. Those criteria are seldom met. So it is usually not wise to accept a meta-analysis as the final word.
Still, meta-analysis is often a part of what some people consider to be the best way of evaluating medical evidence: the systematic review.
A systematic review entails using “a predetermined structured method to search, screen, select, appraise and summarize study findings to answer a narrowly focused research question,” physician and health care researcher Trisha Greenhalgh of the University of Oxford and colleagues write in a new paper. “Using an exhaustive search methodology, the reviewer extracts all possibly relevant primary studies, and then limits the dataset using explicit inclusion and exclusion criteria.”
Systematic reviews are highly focused; while hundreds or thousands of studies are initially identified, most are culled out so only a few are reviewed thoroughly with respect to the evidence they provide on a specific medical issue. The resulting published paper reaches a supposedly objective conclusion often from a quantitative analysis of the data. Sounds good, right? And in fact, systematic reviews have gained a reputation as a superior form of medical evidence. In many quarters of medical practice and publishing, systematic reviews are considered the soundest evidence you can get.
But “systematic” is not synonymous with “high quality,” as Greenhalgh, Sally Thorne (University of British Columbia, Vancouver) and Kirsti Malterud (Uni Research Health, Bergen, Norway) point out in their paper, accepted for publication in the European Journal of Clinical Investigation. Sometimes systematic reviews are valuable, they acknowledge. “But sometimes, the term ‘systematic review’ allows a data aggregation to claim a more privileged position within the knowledge hierarchy than it actually deserves.”
Greenhalgh and colleagues question, for instance, why systematic reviews should be regarded as superior to “narrative” reviews. In a narrative review, an expert in the field surveys relevant publications and then interprets and critiques them. Such a review’s goal is to produce “an authoritative argument, based on informed wisdom,” Greenhalgh and colleagues write. Rather than just producing a paper that announces a specific conclusion, a narrative review reflects the choices and judgments by an expert about what research is worth considering and how to best interpret the body of evidence and apply it to a variety of medical issues and questions. Systematic reviews are like products recommended to you by Amazon’s computers; narrative reviews are birthday presents from friends who’ve known you long and well.
For some reason, though, an expert reviewer’s “informed wisdom” is considered an inferior source of reliable advice for medical practitioners, Greenhalgh and colleagues write. “Reviews crafted through the experience and judgment of experts are often viewed as untrustworthy (‘eminence-based’ is a pejorative term).”
Yet if you really want the best evidence, it might be a good idea to seek the counsel of people who know good evidence when they see it.
A systematic review might be fine for answering “a very specific question about how to treat a particular disease in a particular target group,” Greenhalgh and colleagues write. “But the doctor in the clinic, the nurse on the ward or the social worker in the community will encounter patients with a wide diversity of health states, cultural backgrounds, illnesses, sufferings and resources.” Real-life patients often have little in common with participants in research studies. A meaningful synthesis of evidence relevant to real life requires a reviewer to use “creativity and judgment” in assessing “a broad range of knowledge sources and strategies.”
Narrative reviews come in many versions. Some are systematic in their own way. But a key difference is that the standard systematic review focuses on process (search strategies, exclusion criteria, mathematical method) while narrative reviews emphasize thinking and interpretation. Ranking systematic reviews superior to narrative reviews “elevates the mechanistic processes of exhaustive search, wide exclusion and mathematical averaging over the thoughtful, in-depth, critically reflective processes of engagement with ideas,” Greenhalgh and collaborators assert.
Tabulating data and calculating confidence intervals are important skills, they agree. But the rigidity of the systematic review approach has its downsides. It omits the outliers, the diversity and variations in people and their diseases, diminishing the depth and nuance of medical knowledge. In some cases, a systematic review may be the right approach to a specific question. But “the absence of thoughtful, interpretive critical reflection can render such products hollow, misleading and potentially harmful,” Greenhalgh and colleagues contend.
And even when systematic reviews are useful for answering a particular question, they don’t serve many other important purposes — such as identifying new questions also in need of answers. A narrative review can provide not only guidance for current treatment but also advice on what research is needed to improve treatment in the future. Without the perspective provided by more wide-ranging narrative reviews, research funding may flow “into questions that are of limited importance, and which have often already been answered.”
Their point extends beyond the realm of medical evidence. There is value in knowledge, wisdom and especially judgment that is lost when process trumps substance. In many realms of science (and life in general), wisdom is often subordinated to following rules. Some rules, or course, are worthwhile guides to life (see Gibbs’ list, for example). But as the writing expert Robert Gunning once articulated nicely, rules are substitutes for thought.
In situations where thought is unnecessary, or needlessly time-consuming, obeying the rules is a useful strategy. But many other circumstances call for actual informed thinking and sound judgment. All too often in such cases the non-thinkers of the world rely instead on algorithms, usually designed to implement business models, with no respect for the judgments of informed and wise human experts.
In other words, bots are dolts. They are like a disease. Finding the right treatment will require gathering sound evidence. You probably won’t get it from a systematic review.
Genetic modifications to a plant that makes artemisinin, a key compound used in malaria drugs, more than tripled the amount of the ingredient naturally produced in leaves.
Previous attempts to genetically engineer Artemisia annua to increase the yield of artemisinin had failed. So Kexuan Tang, a plant scientist at Shanghai Jiao Tong University, and colleagues determined A. annua’s entire genetic instruction book and identified three genes crucial to artemisinin production. Genetic modifications to increase the activity of these genes boosted the artemisinin level in leaves from 0.1–1 percent of their dry weight to 3.2 percent, the researchers report April 24 in Molecular Plant. Malaria kills about 440,000 people worldwide every year. The scientists hope to save lives by increasing and stabilizing the global supply of artemisinin, which has been in shortage due to unstable supply, Tang says. Seeds of these modified plants have been shipped to Madagascar, which grows the most A. annua in Africa, as part of a field trial.
“This is a milestone paper for artemisinin,” says Akhil Vaidya, an immunologist at Drexel University in Philadelphia who was not involved in the research. Artemisinin was discovered by Chinese chemist Youyou Tu in 1972, as she was investigating thousands of traditional Chinese remedies. The discovery, which has saved millions of lives, earned her the 2015 Nobel Prize in medicine (SN Online: 10/5/15).
Drug companies have used genetically modified yeast to produce semisynthetic artemisinin (SN: 5/4/13, p. 20), which is also effective against malaria. But artemisinin from plants is cheaper, Vaidya says. “Let the sun shine. Let the plants do their job,” he says.
Toastier nest temperatures, rather than sex chromosomes, turn baby turtles female. Now, a genetic explanation for how temperature determines turtles’ sex is emerging: Scientists have identified a temperature-responsive gene that sets turtle embryos on a path to being either male or female. When researchers dialed down that gene early in development, turtle embryos incubating at the cooler climes that would normally yield males turned out female instead, researchers report in the May 11 Science.
Scientists have struggled since the 1960s to explain how a temperature cue can flip the sex switch for turtles and other reptiles (SN Online: 1/8/18). That’s partly because gene-manipulating techniques that are well-established in mice don’t work in reptiles, says study coauthor Blanche Capel, a developmental biologist at Duke University School of Medicine. Previous studies showed certain genes, including one called Kdm6b, behaving differently in developing male and female turtles. But until recently, nobody had been able to tweak those genes to directly test which ones controlled sex. “This is the first venture down that path,” says Clare Holleley, an evolutionary geneticist at the Australian National Wildlife Collection in Canberra who wasn’t part of the study. “It’s really quite a breakthrough.”
In the new study, Capel’s lab collaborated with a group of Chinese researchers led by Chutian Ge of Zhejiang Wanli University in Ningbo. Ge’s team recently developed a way to lessen the activity of particular reptilian genes by injecting viruses bearing snippets of artificial RNA into developing eggs.
The researchers used the technique to weaken the effects of the Kdm6b gene in the embryos of red-eared slider turtles (Trachemys scripta elegans) before the gonads formed, then tracked the embryos’ development at 26° Celsius.
“To my delight, it resulted in complete sex reversal,” Capel says. That temperature should have yielded all male turtles. Instead, in two separate experiments done with different gene-silencing viruses, 80 and 87 percent of the surviving embryos became female. Still, something as complex as sex determination can’t be boiled down to a single gene. Kdm6b controls a gene called Dmrt1, which had already been shown to direct male development, Capel’s team also found. And while Kdm6b does behave differently as temperatures rise, it doesn’t show the same response in all tissues. That suggests that the gene doesn’t directly sense temperature, but is instead receiving messages from some higher-up gene that reacts directly to temperature and directs Kdm6b’s behavior in different tissues, the researchers propose.
Whether Kdm6b plays the same role in other reptiles remains to be seen. A 2017 study in Science Advances coauthored by Holleley found that the gene influenced bearded dragons’ sexual fate (SN Online: 6/14/17). But other genes in the same family, Jumonji genes, are also known to influence development in both reptiles and mammals. And those genes might not work exactly the same way in other reptiles.
“There’s this huge diversity of sex determining modes in reptiles,” Holleley says. Even if Kdm6b is an important switch in other reptiles, “the genes that Jumonji genes are activating are probably going to be different in every reptile.”
There are other wrinkles, too. “This is really exciting finding, but we need to remember that everything in a lab is controlled,” says Itzel Sifuentes-Romero of Florida Atlantic University in Boca Raton. Wild turtle eggs are subject to fluctuations in temperature and moisture as they incubate, she says, which means the signals that temperature-sensitive genes are receiving are far more muddled.
