Cosmic mismatch
Researchers used supernovas, cosmic microwave background radiation and patterns of galaxy clusters to measure the Hubble constant — the rate at which the universe expands — but their results were mismatched, Emily Conover reported in “Debate persists on cosmic expansion” (SN: 8/6/16, p. 10).

Reader J.R. Kennedy thought that light-dimming space dust and debris might explain the discrepancy.

Gas and dust in space can have an impact on the brightness of standard candles — objects with known brightness such as type 1a supernovas and some variable stars, Conover says. But astronomers correct for those discrepancies in their measurements.
In the absence of gas and dust, a candle’s apparent brightness should decrease in relation to its distance from Earth. “But if there’s dust in the way, it can make the candle dim more than that,” Conover says. “However, this intervening material doesn’t dim the candle quite in the same way as distance does. It will dim the shorter, bluer wavelengths of light more than the redder ones. Astronomers can look for this effect to identify the impact of dust and correct for it.” So the mismatch stands.
Great escape
High-speed video captured how the o­ffspring of red-eyed tree frogs prematurely break free from their eggs when in danger, Helen Thompson reported in “Under threat, tadpoles make early escape” (SN: 8/6/16, p. 32).
Online reader myndflyte wondered if early hatching had any long-term de-velopmental effects on the tadpoles.

There’s definitely a trade-off involved in hatching early to escape a predator or some other threat, Thompson says. Past work by tree frog researcher Karen Warkentin, now at Boston University, shows that red-eyed tree frog embryos grow tails and mouthparts in the last few days of their roughly weeklong incubation. Those that hatch earlier, up to four days if threatened, tend to be underdeveloped with smaller bodies and shorter tails. “In the short term, this developmental deficit puts early hatchlings at greater risk of getting eaten by pond shrimp and fish than their older brethren,” Thompson says. “But there’s also evidence to suggest that early hatchers compensate down the line and grow at higher rates as tadpoles.”

More to the story
Although the death rate from motor vehicle crashes in the United States has declined since 2000, the country still tops 19 other high-income nations in m­otor vehicle deaths, Alex Maddon wrote in “U.S. still leads in fatal motor vehicle crashes” (SN: 8/6/16, p. 5).

Some readers took issue with the conclusions presented and thought the researchers should have measured fatalities per miles driven instead of per population. “Using a per capita metric makes the U.S. look unsafe when the opposite is true,” John Underwood wrote. “Since A-mericans drive more miles per year than the other countries in the chart, we will have the highest fatality rate per 100,000 population.”

It’s true that fatalities per miles driven changes the ranking. Using the measure “per 100 million vehicle miles traveled,” the United States drops to fifth place, says Deputy M-anaging Editor, Features Cori Vanchieri. When the researchers looked at deaths per 10,000 registered vehicles, however, the United States still topped the list. The researchers’ overall message is that the United States could further reduce crash deaths if seat belt use goes up and alcohol-impaired driving and speeding go down.

Clarification
“Under threat, tadpoles make early escape” (SN: 8/6/16, p. 32) states that the tree frog embryos gape their mouths to stretch out their egg membranes. Not all embryos gape their mouths, and ultimately, an enzyme secreted from the embryo’s snout breaks open the membrane.

Scaling up from one cell to many may have been a small step rather than a giant leap for early life on Earth. A single-celled organism closely related to animals controls its life cycle using a molecular toolkit much like the one animals use to give their cells different roles, scientists report October 13 in Developmental Cell.

“Animals are regarded as this very special branch, as in, there had to be so many innovations to be an animal,” says David Booth, a biologist at the University of California, Berkeley who wasn’t part of the study. But this research shows “a lot of the machinery was there millions of years before animals evolved.”
Multicellular organisms need to be able to send messages between their cells and direct them to particular roles within the body. That requires a great deal of cell-to-cell coordination — something that unicellular organisms don’t have to deal with. But an amoeba (Capsaspora owczarzaki) employs many of those same tricks to switch its single-celled body between different life stages. That means that the earliest animals were probably “recycling mechanisms that were already present before,” says study coauthor Iñaki Ruiz-Trillo, a biologist at the Institute for Evolutionary Biology in Barcelona.

C. owczarzaki goes through three different life stages, acting independently in some stages and aggregating with other amoebas in others. Ruiz-Trillo and colleagues analyzed C. owczarzaki’s proteome — its complete set of proteins — during each life stage.

The amoeba made different amounts of its proteins in each life stage, the team found, suggesting that it was responding to new demands. But it went a step further, too, also shifting the way its proteins behaved during each stage.

Proteins can change their behavior by grabbing on to a molecular fragment called a phosphate ion. The phosphate ion’s effect depends on where it sticks to the protein and whether there are other phosphate ions stuck on nearby. C. owczarzaki showed distinct differences in the pattern of these phosphate add-ons between its three life stages. That parallels what’s seen in animals: Proteins in different organs within the same animal show similar modification differences.

The researchers also found changes in the molecules that control the protein modification process. Certain enzymes within a cell act like molecular concierges, helping phosphate ions latch on to proteins. The type of enzyme often determines where the ion sticks — and thus the effect it has. For instance, enzymes called tyrosine kinases often guide modifications that help multicellular organisms send messages between cells. Those enzymes aren’t thought to be widely used by single-celled species, says study coauthor Eduard Sabidó, a biologist at the Centre for Genomic Regulation in Barcelona. But C. owczarzaki uses these enzymes across all of its life stages, generating them in different quantities depending on the stage.
Previous research showed that other single-celled organisms had the genes for tyrosine signaling, but this study shows how widely it’s actually used and how closely it’s linked to specific life changes, says Booth.

The shared molecular mechanisms suggest that the unicellular common ancestor of today’s animals and C. owczarzaki probably used these same tricks, too, paving the way for multicellular life. That’s not to say animals don’t get any credit, says Sabidó — they’ve expanded this toolkit further over time. But the perceived chasm between a simple single-celled existence and a complex multicellular one might not have required a flying leap to cross. “This gap,” Sabidó says, “maybe isn’t such a gap.”

To create a heavy black hole, it might help to start with a massive magnetic star.

Strong magnetic fields could help stem the flow of gas from a heavyweight star, leaving behind enough material to form hefty black holes, a new study suggests. A pair of such magnetic stars could be responsible for giving birth to the black hole duo that created recently detected gravitational waves, researchers report online December 1 in Monthly Notices of the Royal Astronomical Society.
The shake-up in spacetime that was picked up the Advanced Laser Interferometric Gravitational-Wave Observatory, or LIGO, in 2015 came from a collision between two black holes weighing about 29 and 36 times the mass of the sun (SN: 3/5/16, p. 6). Such plump black holes were surprising. The creation of a big black hole requires the explosive death of a gargantuan star. But weighty stars are so bright that the light blows gas into space.

“These massive stars can lose up to half their mass to their dense stellar winds,” says study coauthor Véronique Petit, an astrophysicist at Florida Institute of Technology in Melbourne. That leaves only enough mass to make a more modest black hole.

Having a paucity of elements heavier than helium is one way a massive star might retain gas. Atoms such as carbon, oxygen and iron present large targets to the radiation streaming from a star. Photons nudge these atoms along, generating strong stellar winds. A lack of heavy elements could keep these winds in check.

Petit and colleagues have proposed another idea: intense magnetic fields that might redirect escaping gas back onto the star. Observations in recent years have led to the discovery that about 10 percent of stellar heavyweights have powerful magnetic fields, some exceeding 10,000 gauss (the sun’s magnetic field is, on average, closer to 1 gauss).

Computer simulations allowed researchers to see how much mass a star could retain if it were blanketed by magnetic fields. Magnetism is an effective levee, they found. A magnetic star that starts off with 80 times as much mass as the sun, for example, ends its life about 20 suns heavier than a similarly massive one that’s not magnetic.
“This is an interesting alternative hypothesis for how stars can end up holding onto more of their mass, so they can form such heavy black holes,” says Vicky Kalogera, an astrophysicist at Northwestern University in Evanston, Ill. But, she cautions, “the mechanism is somewhat speculative.” Astronomers don’t have a good handle yet on how magnetic fields change as a star evolves, she says, particularly as the star approaches the end of its life.

“It’s going to be hard to test our hypothesis,” Petit says. Pinpointing the host galaxy of a future collision between obese black holes might help, but that’s fraught with ambiguity. If the galaxy is rich in heavy elements, then perhaps magnetic fields are needed to hold back the flow of gas from gigantic stars. But that doesn’t mean the black holes were born in that environment. They could also have formed early in the universe, says Petit, when their galaxy had fewer heavy elements, in which case magnetic fields might not be necessary.

The sun has been in the same routine for at least 290 million years, new research suggests.

Ancient tree rings from the Permian period record a roughly 11-year cycle of wet and dry periods, climate fluctuations caused by the ebbing and flowing of solar activity, researchers propose January 9 in Geology. The discovery would push back the earliest evidence of today’s 11-year solar cycle by tens of millions of years.

“The sun has apparently been doing what it’s been doing today for a long time,” says Nat Gopalswamy, a solar scientist at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Md., who was not involved in the study.
Around every 11 years, the sun’s brightness and the frequency of sunspots and solar flares completes one round of waxing and waning. These solar changes alter the intensity of sunlight reaching Earth and, some scientists hypothesize, may affect the composition of the stratosphere and rates of cloud formation. Those effects could alter rainfall rates, which in turn influence tree growth.

Ancient trees may hold clues to similar cycles from long ago. In what is now southeast Germany, volcanic eruptions buried an ancient forest under debris roughly 290 million years ago. Paleontologists Ludwig Luthardt and Ronny Rößler of the Natural History Museum in Chemnitz, Germany, identified tree rings in the fossilized remains of the trees.

Measuring the widths of the rings, which show how much the plants grew each year, the researchers discovered a cycle in growth rates. The cycle lasted on average 10.62 years. This cycle reflects years-long rises and falls in annual rainfall rates caused by the solar cycle, the researchers propose. The cycle’s average length falls within the 10.44-year to 11.16-year length of the sunspot cycle seen over the last few hundred years.

Whether the solar and tree ring cycles are connected isn’t certain, says paleoclimatologist Adam Csank of the University of Nevada, Reno. Many studies suggest that it is not possible to clearly identify sunspot cycles in modern tree ring records, he notes. Other changes in Earth’s climate system or periodic insect outbreaks might contribute to tree ring widths, he says.

BOSTON — A taste for reddish young leaves might have pushed howler monkeys toward full-spectrum color vision. The ability to tell red from green could have helped howlers pick out the more nutritious, younger leaves, researchers reported February 19 at the annual meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science. That’s a skill their insect-eating close relatives probably didn’t need.

Primates show substantial variation in their color vision capabilities, both between and within species, said Amanda Melin, a biological anthropologist at the University of Calgary in Canada. Trichromatic vision (how most humans see) requires three light-sensitive proteins in the eye that can detect different wavelengths of light. Within most monkey species in Central and South America, only some individuals have trichromatic vision. Males have dichromatic vision — they’re red-green colorblind — and only some females can see the whole rainbow. Howlers are an exception — thanks to a duplicated gene on their X chromosomes, trichromatic vision is the norm for both males and females.
Howlers graze on leaves from Ficus trees and other plants when fruit can’t be found. In field observations of mantled howlers (Alouatta palliata) in Costa Rica, the monkeys preferentially munched on the younger, more nutritious leaves, Melin’s team found. The reddish hue of new leaves makes them pop more when seen with trichromatic vision than dichromatic vision, the researchers reported in a paper accepted for publication in Ecology and Evolution. Because young leaves are a fleeting treat and not a constant resource, monkeys able to spot them more quickly could have had a selective advantage.

Similar selection pressures might also help explain why Old World monkeys from Asia and Africa also have consistent trichromatic vision, Melin said. “What we might be seeing is a convergent evolution for animals who fall back on leaves when fruit isn’t around.”

On the other hand, other Central and South American monkeys usually go for insects, instead of leaves, when there’s no fruit. Dichromatic vision might be a better fit for their lifestyle, Melin said. “Color can impede ability to see patterns, borders and textures. Insects hide and camouflage.”

With a final rip, an iceberg roughly the size of Delaware has broken off Antarctica’s Larsen C ice shelf. Anticipated for weeks, the fracture is one of the largest calving events ever recorded.

On July 12, satellite images confirmed a nearly 5,800-square-kilometer, 1-trillion-metric-ton chunk of ice, equivalent to 12 percent of Larsen C’s total area, split from the ice shelf. “[We] have been surprised how long it took for the rift to break through the final few kilometers of ice,” Adrian Luckman, a glaciologist at Swansea University in Wales, said in a blogpost for Project MIDAS, which has been tracking the effects of a warming climate on the ice shelf. Now the focus will shift to the stability of the remaining ice shelf and the fate of the giant iceberg.
Scientists had been monitoring Larsen C since 2014, when they noticed that a crack in the ice shelf had grown roughly 20 kilometers in less than nine months (SN: 7/25/15, p. 8). After a relative lull in 2015, the crack grew another 40 kilometers in 2016 and then 10 more in the first half of January 2017, bringing its total length to 175 kilometers. At that point, its tip was 20 kilometers from the Weddell Sea.
The crack grew another 17 kilometers between May 25 and May 31 — at times traveling parallel to the edge and ultimately putting it within 13 kilometers of the ice front. Then, in late June, the outer part of the ice shelf picked up speed, putting new pressure on the crack and the entire shelf. “It won’t be long now,” Project Midas tweeted June 30. Added Luckman, also in a tweet: “The remaining ice is strained near to breaking point.”

Yet the vigil lasted nearly two more weeks. By July 6, the crack had come within 5 kilometers of the edge of the ice. Then, sometime between July 10 and July 12, it finally reached the water, allowing the huge hunk of ice to splinter off into the sea.
The ice loss dramatically alters the landscape of Larsen C, Luckman notes. “Maps will need to be redrawn.” And that could be the least of the trouble ahead, says Adam Booth, a geophysicist at the University of Leeds in England also with Project MIDAS. “The calving event is significant because it is likely a precursor to something much bigger, potentially the collapse of the whole Larsen C ice shelf,” Booth says. The same thing happened to the neighboring Larsen B ice shelf in 2002, after it calved a Rhode Island-sized iceberg (SN: 3/30/02, p. 197).

“Glaciologists are keen to see how Larsen C will react,” says Luckman.

A complete collapse of Larsen C could have implications for sea level rise. Antarctica’s ice shelves act as buttresses, helping to slow the flow of the continent’s ice into the ocean. Since these shelves float on the water, calving icebergs don’t directly raise sea level. But calving or the collapse of an ice shelf allows glaciers and ice streams further inland to flow into the ocean, which can contribute to sea level rise.

Calving of icebergs is common, and over several decades, the shelves usually recover to their original size. But in the last two decades, ice shelves have instead continued to lose ice until collapsing, probably as a result of rising temperatures due to climate change, researchers suspect. In 2014, researchers concluded the collapse of Larsen B was the result of warming (SN: 10/18/14, p. 9).

Some computer simulations suggest Larsen C could suffer the same fate, possibly within a few years to decades, Luckman says. Still, the calving event that feeds a potential collapse may be hard to pin on climate change. “Not all ice-related stories have a clear global warming origin,” Luckman notes. Larsen C’s calving, he says, “may simply be a natural event that would have happened regardless of human activity.”
Not everyone is convinced that Larsen C will fall apart completely. Researchers from Europe predict major changes to the shelf would happen only if it loses 55 percent of its ice. At that point, a significant amount of ice could ooze from glaciers into the ocean. Still, understanding what allowed the recent rift to grow and calve will “give us insight regarding other fractures or rifts on the shelf,” says geoscientist Dan McGrath of Colorado State University in Fort Collins. While McGrath says a collapse is “very unlikely,” he adds that “these other dormant rifts are in locations where if they reinitiated, the subsequent calving event would be worrisome for the shelf’s stability.”

Discrepancies in the predictions of Larsen C’s fate raise an important point, says Richard Alley, a geologist at Penn State. Researchers don’t understand ice shelf calving and collapsing enough predict how any one individual ice shelf will behave after a break.

“The Larsen C ice shelf is, of course, just one small part of Antarctica,” Booth says. “What is worrying is that we’re seeing trends in several ice shelves that tend towards decreasing stability. Should they continue along these trends, we could be seeing the start of increased mass loss from the Antarctic continent.”

A genetic-engineering tool designed to spread through a population like wildfire — eradicating disease and even whole invasive species — might be more easily thwarted than thought.

Resistance to the tools, called CRISPR gene drives, arose at high rates in experiments with Drosophila melanogaster fruit flies, researchers at Cornell University report July 20 in PLOS Genetics. Rates of resistance varied among strains of fruit flies collected around the world, from a low of about 4 percent in embryos from an Ithaca, N.Y., strain to a high of about 56 percent in Tasmanian fruit fly embryos.
“At these rates, the constructs would not start spreading in the population,” says coauthor Philipp Messer, a population geneticist. “It might require quite a bit more work to get a gene drive that works at all.”

Gene drives are basically genetic copy-and-paste machines. These self-perpetuating machines are inherited by more than 50 percent of offspring of an individual carrying a gene drive. Working perfectly, they could transmit to 100 percent of offspring.

In its simplest form, a CRISPR gene drive consists of a piece of DNA that encodes both an enzyme called Cas9, which acts as molecular scissors, and a guide RNA that tells the Cas9 enzyme where to cut. That cutting may disrupt important genes. Researchers are experimenting with this as a way to sterilize malaria-carrying mosquitoes (SN Online: 12/7/15).

Some gene drives also carry a genetic payload. For instance, another approach to fighting malaria is to develop drives that carry genes to “vaccinate” mosquitoes against the disease (SN: 12/26/15, p. 6). Other drives might carry genes that make fluorescent proteins to indicate the gene drive’s presence; Messer and colleagues used such markers to follow two gene drives in fruit flies bred in the lab.
When an organism carrying the tool mates with one that doesn’t, gene drives go to work. Inside the fertilized egg, guide RNAs shepherd Cas9 produced by the engineered mate to a spot where it cuts the other mate’s chromosome.

If everything works correctly, cells repair that break by copying the gene drive onto the cut chromosome. But the slice can also be fixed by gluing the cut ends back together. That regluing sometimes leads to mistakes that destroy Cas9’s cutting site, creating a chromosome that is resistant to the gene drive’s insertion.

In the fruit fly experiments, some mistakes created resistance during or before fertilization. Others took place in early embryos because cells produced Cas9 for too long, allowing the enzyme to chop chromosomes again and again, Messer and colleagues discovered. That was especially a problem when females produced Cas9, they found.

Some uses of gene drives, such as those that would sterilize or kill mosquitoes, can’t tolerate any amount of resistance no matter when it arises, Messer says. Because those types of gene drives damage the organism’s fertility or viability, mosquitoes carrying resistance would have an advantage and quickly outcompete insects vulnerable to the drives.

In a separate study posted June 14 at BioRxiv.org, Messer and colleagues tested several approaches to overcoming gene drive resistance. They found that using multiple guide RNAs and turning on Cas9 only in males could reduce resistance rates.

“This is a very important and elegant set of experiments,” says MIT evolutionary engineer Kevin Esvelt.

But the conclusions aren’t news to most gene drive researchers.

“We’re aware of all these problems, and the essence of how to deal with them hasn’t been changed by these studies,” says geneticist Ethan Bier of the University of California, San Diego. Bier and lab colleague Valentino Gantz created the first gene drive in fruit flies in 2015, and have worked with other researchers to develop gene drives that would prevent mosquitoes from carrying malaria (SN: 12/12/15, p. 16).

Messer’s group is, however, the first to experimentally confirm predictions about resistance and how to avoid it, Esvelt says. “They show what’s been apparent to some people in the field for a very long time.”

Some people might think that high rates of resistance mean that gene drives are safe to release because they won’t spread easily in the wild. But that notion is misguided, says Bier. Even if a gene drive is able to affect only a small percentage of a local pest population, it could still spread around the world, Esvelt adds. “It could still screw us all over in the current form.”

Researchers should continue to conduct gene drive experiments under tight containment, he and Bier caution.

Early in Inferior, science writer Angela Saini recalls a man cornering her after a signing for her book Geek Nation, on science in India. “Where are all the women scientists?” he asked, then answered his own question. “Women just aren’t as good at science as men are. They’ve been shown to be less intelligent.”

Saini fought back with a few statistics on girls’ math abilities, but soon decided that nothing she could say would convince him. It’s a situation that may feel familiar to many women. “What I wish I had was a set of scientific arguments in my armory,” she writes.
So she decided to learn the truth about what science really does tell us about differences between the sexes. “For everyone who has faced the same situation,” she writes, “the same desperate attempt to not lose control but have at hand some real facts and a history to explain them, here they are.”

In Inferior, Saini marshals plenty of facts and statistics contradicting sexist notions about women’s bodies and minds. She cites study after study showing little or no difference in male and female capabilities.

But it’s the book’s historical perspective that makes it most compelling. Only by understanding the cultural context of the men whose studies and ideas first pointed to gender imbalances can we see how deeply biases run, Saini argues.

Charles Darwin’s influential ideas reflected his times, for instance. In The Descent of Man, he wrote that “man has ultimately become superior to woman” via evolution. To a woman active in her local women’s movement, Darwin wrote, “there seems to me to be a great difficulty from the laws of inheritance … in [women] becoming the intellectual equals of man.”

If that idea sounds absurd now, don’t fool yourself into thinking it has vanished. Saini’s book is full of examples right up to today of scientists who have started from this and other flawed premises, which have led to generations of flawed studies and results that reinforce stereotypes. But the tide has been turning, as more women have entered science and more scientists of both sexes seek to remove bias from their work.
Saini does an excellent job of dissecting research on evolution, neuroscience and even the long-standing notion that women’s sexual behavior is driven by their interest in stable, monogamous relationships. By the end, it’s clear that science doesn’t divide men and women; we’ve done that to ourselves. And as scientists become more rigorous, we get closer to seeing ourselves as we really are.

A tiny, shimmying cantilever wiggles a bit more than expected in a new experiment. The excess jiggling of the miniature, diving board–like structure might hint at why the strange rules of quantum mechanics don’t apply in the familiar, “classical” world. But that potential hint is still a long shot: Other sources of vibration are yet to be fully ruled out, so more experiments are needed.

Quantum particles can occupy more than one place at the same time, a condition known as a superposition (SN: 11/20/10, p. 15). Only once a particle’s position is measured does its location become definite. In quantum terminology, the particle’s wave function, which characterizes the spreading of the particle, collapses to a single location (SN Online: 5/26/14).
In contrast, larger objects are always found in one place. “We never see a table or chair in a quantum superposition,” says theoretical physicist Angelo Bassi of the University of Trieste in Italy, a coauthor of the study, to appear in Physical Review Letters. But standard quantum mechanics doesn’t fully explain why large objects don’t exist in superpositions, or how and why wave functions collapse.

Extensions to standard quantum theory can alleviate these conundrums by assuming that wave functions collapse spontaneously, at random intervals. For larger objects, that collapse happens more quickly, meaning that on human scales objects don’t show up in two places at once.

Now, scientists have tested one such theory by looking for one of its predictions: a minuscule jitter, or “noise,” imparted by the random nature of wave function collapse. The scientists looked for this jitter in a miniature cantilever, half a millimeter long. After cooling the cantilever and isolating it to reduce external sources of vibration, the researchers found that an unexplained trembling still remained.

In 2007, physicist Stephen Adler of the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, N.J., predicted that the level of jitter from wave function collapse would be large enough to spot in experiments like this one. The new measurement is consistent with Adler’s prediction. “That’s the interesting fact, that the noise matches these predictions,” says study coauthor Andrea Vinante, formerly of the Institute for Photonics and Nanotechnologies in Trento, Italy. But, he says, he wouldn’t bet on the source being wave function collapse. “It is much more likely that it’s some not very well understood effect in the experiment.” In future experiments, the scientists plan to change the design of the cantilever to attempt to isolate the vibration’s source.

The result follows similar tests performed with the LISA Pathfinder spacecraft, which was built as a test-bed for gravitational wave detection techniques. Two different studies found no excess jiggling of free-falling weights within the spacecraft. But the new cantilever experiment tests for wave function collapse occurring at different rate and length scales than those previous studies.
Theories that include spontaneous wave function collapse are not yet accepted by most physicists. But interest in them has recently become more widespread, says physicist David Vitali of the University of Camerino in Italy, “sparked by the fact that technological advances now make fundamental tests of quantum mechanics much easier to conceive.” Focusing on a simple system like the cantilever is the right approach, says Vitali, who was not involved with the research. Still, “a lot of things can go wrong or can be not fully controlled.”

To conclude that wave function collapse is the cause of the excess vibrations, every other possible source will have to be ruled out. So, Adler says, “it’s going to take a lot of confirmation to check that this is a real effect.”

Some ants have figured out how to keep from getting lost: Build taller anthills.

Desert ants that live in the hot, flat salt pans of Tunisia spend their days looking for food. Successful grocery runs can take the insects as far as 1.1 kilometers from their nests. So some of these ants build towering hills over their nests that serve as a landmark to guide the way home, researchers report in the July 10 Current Biology.
“I am surprised and fascinated that ants have visual acuity at the distances implied in this work,” says ecologist Judith Bronstein of the University of Arizona in Tucson who wasn’t involved in the new study. It “also implies that ants regularly assess the complexity of their local habitat and change their decisions based on what they conclude about it.”

Desert ants (Cataglyphis spp.) use a navigation system called path integration, relying on the sun’s position and counting their steps to keep track of where they are relative to their nest (SN: 1/19/17). But this system becomes increasingly unreliable as distance from the nest increases. Like other types of ants, desert ants also rely more generally on sight and smell. But the vast, almost featureless salt pans look nearly the same in every direction.

“We realized that, whenever the ants in salt pans came closer to their nest, they suddenly pinpointed the nest hill … from several meters distance,” says Markus Knaden, a neuroethologist at Max Planck Institute for Chemical Ecology in Jena, Germany. “This made us think that the hill functions as a nest-defining landmark.”

So Knaden and colleagues captured ants (C. fortis) from nests in the middle of salt pans and from along their shorelines. Only nests from the salt pan interiors had distinct hills, which can be up to 40 centimeters tall, whereas the hills on shoreline nests were lower or barely noticeable.
Next, the team removed any hills and placed the captured insects some distance away from their nests. Ants from the salt pans’ interiors struggled more than shore ants to find home. Since the shore ants were adept at using the shoreline for guidance, they weren’t as affected by the hill removal, the researchers conclude.

The team wanted to know if the ants were deliberately building a taller hill when their surroundings lacked any visible landmark. So, the researchers removed the hills of 16 salt pan nests and installed two 50-centimeter-tall black cylinders apiece near eight of them. The other eight nests were left without any artificial visual aid.
After three days, the researchers found that ants from seven of the unaided nests had rebuilt their hills. But ants from only two of the nests with cylinders had bothered to rebuild.

“These desert ants already told us about path integration and step counting for orientation…. But this business of building your own visual landmark, incredible,” says entomologist John Longino of the University of Utah in Salt Lake City who wasn’t involved in the research. “Are they sitting down to a council meeting to decide whether they need a bigger landmark? Is this somehow an evolved behavior in this one desert ant species?”

For now, it’s unclear how the ants decide to build, or not to build, a hill. Interestingly, nest building is usually performed by younger ants that are not foragers yet, Knaden says, and have not experienced the difficulty in finding a nest in the absence of a hill. That means there is an exchange of information between the veteran foraging ants and their novice nest mates, he says.

Bronstein also wonders about the risks of building the taller structures. Such risks “are implied by the fact that the ants don’t build such a structure where it isn’t needed,” she says. But, “for instance, isn’t it a clear cue to ant predators that food can be found there?”