Showing posts with label antennae. Show all posts
Showing posts with label antennae. Show all posts
Monday, January 3, 2011
What is a cockroach?
This is a cockroach, order Blattodea. Insects in the order Blattodea (or Blattaria if you're old-school - either way it's a roach) are characterized by long, slender cursorial (running) legs with which they achieve impressive speeds. The top of their first thoracic segment (aka the pronotum) extends up to cover their heads as a shield-shaped hat. Their mouths contain a pair of plain, sensible mandibles for chewing, their 30+ segmented antennae are thin and sensitive, ranging far ahead of their body to warn of impending danger as they run. In those cockroaches that have wings, the first pair is thickened, leathery (they're called tegmina), protecting the hind pair that is thin and membranous.
Many cockroaches are earth-toned: dull brown, tan, red, and black. A few, like the beautiful cuban cockroach (Panchlora nivea) pictured above, have striking coloration.
One thing a cockroach is not, however, is fancy. You will never find them trying to stand out with flashy patterns. They are meant to blend in with the background. Flat bodies, shielded heads, leathery forewings, the body of a cockroach is made for sneaking into small hiding places and for furtive avoidance of malicious predators. Their beauty is a functional one.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Limits of Adaptationism #3: What your momma gave you
Existing genetic variation
Natural selection can only work on existing genetic variation. There is a gene pool, and out of it survivors are selected to reproduce for the next generation's gene pool, but no one who isn't already in the pool can be invited in.
In other words, on your birthday, your momma gave you some genes - dimples, a rear end the size of Milwaukee, maybe a mustache. Bummer- you really wanted rocket thrusters. But your momma could only give you genes that she already has, likewise your daddy couldn't pull rocket thrusters out of the air to give to you.
Some things, like rocket thrusters, would be totally sweet to have, but let's face it- you're not going to get them anytime soon. Fish might really wish that they had lungs in addition to gills, but they're not going to get them anytime soon. So it's foolish to ask "why don't fish have lungs?" or "why can't people fly?"
Adaptationism would cause us to answer these questions by looking for reasons why it wouldn't be advantageous to have rocket thrusters. But clearly, personal rocket-assisted flight would be advantageous. Going back to the insect antennae- we might expect that having foldable, elbowed antennae would be advantageous to any insect. But not everyone's got the genetic wherewithal to make elbowed antennae. The reason why a certain insect has a certain kind of antennae might not be related to what is most advantageous for that insect, but rather, what that insect's momma gave them.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Antennation
Insect antennae are sophisticated organs that can perform many functions for insects:
Basically, antennae can do everything but see. They play powerfully in orientation of the insect in space; detecting wind speed and direction, the smell of pheromones in the air leading them to a mate, or the subtle vibration of prey below the bark of a tree. What is interesting to me is that antennae have so many different forms. Termites have simple moniliform antennae like tiny strings of tiny beads. Silkmoth and mosquito males have elaborate bipectinate plumose antennae. My small hive beetles have adorable club-shaped antennae which make them look like Mickey Mouse when they hold their antennae up. The antennae of house flies are two fat dangly bulbs with a single feather mounted at the top of each. The antennae of scarab beetles terminate in a fan-like array of delicate fingers called lamellae that can be spread open or closed tightly like a fist and tucked away into cavities under the insect's head. Dragonflies have nothing but two short bristles for antennae. Dizzying variety is the rule when it comes to antennal form. So why so many types? Does each of them correspond to some special life-style like insect leg types?
Question of the day:
Dunno.
No, seriously- we don't know why there are so many types of insect antennae. Generally, where olfaction is important, we find more elaborate or specialized antennae, such as those of male moths. Dragonflies, on the other hand, hunt primarily by sight, and thus may be forgiven for having simple and uninteresting antennae. Evolution seems to have favored divergence in most cases and convergence in a few like the elbowed antennae of weevils and ants. Beyond that, antennae are as diverse as the insects themselves. Family resemblance in the antennae is quite useful for classifying insects, but why scarab beetles have fancy lamellate fingers and small hive beetles small club-shaped antennae is rather a mystery.
Some questions in biology will always be easier to answer with "It's for decoration" or "Because that's how God made him." And perhaps in a sense, this is true- that God has seen fit to elevate diversity over uniformity, and style sometimes seems to trump function. But as we scientists study and search for a function for strange traits and find that they do, indeed, have a function, are we disappointed? On the contrary, when fascinating form and amazing function come together we get a new sort of joy- beyond the joy of beauty and the joy of a well-made machine. It is the joy of something that is, on all accounts, very good - just as the creator said it was.
- Olfaction (smell)
- Gustation (taste)
- Mechanoreception (feeling)
- Hygroreception (humidity detection)
- Thermoreception (temperature)
Basically, antennae can do everything but see. They play powerfully in orientation of the insect in space; detecting wind speed and direction, the smell of pheromones in the air leading them to a mate, or the subtle vibration of prey below the bark of a tree. What is interesting to me is that antennae have so many different forms. Termites have simple moniliform antennae like tiny strings of tiny beads. Silkmoth and mosquito males have elaborate bipectinate plumose antennae. My small hive beetles have adorable club-shaped antennae which make them look like Mickey Mouse when they hold their antennae up. The antennae of house flies are two fat dangly bulbs with a single feather mounted at the top of each. The antennae of scarab beetles terminate in a fan-like array of delicate fingers called lamellae that can be spread open or closed tightly like a fist and tucked away into cavities under the insect's head. Dragonflies have nothing but two short bristles for antennae. Dizzying variety is the rule when it comes to antennal form. So why so many types? Does each of them correspond to some special life-style like insect leg types?
Question of the day:
Why are there so many types of insect antennae?
Answer:
Dunno.
No, seriously- we don't know why there are so many types of insect antennae. Generally, where olfaction is important, we find more elaborate or specialized antennae, such as those of male moths. Dragonflies, on the other hand, hunt primarily by sight, and thus may be forgiven for having simple and uninteresting antennae. Evolution seems to have favored divergence in most cases and convergence in a few like the elbowed antennae of weevils and ants. Beyond that, antennae are as diverse as the insects themselves. Family resemblance in the antennae is quite useful for classifying insects, but why scarab beetles have fancy lamellate fingers and small hive beetles small club-shaped antennae is rather a mystery.
Some questions in biology will always be easier to answer with "It's for decoration" or "Because that's how God made him." And perhaps in a sense, this is true- that God has seen fit to elevate diversity over uniformity, and style sometimes seems to trump function. But as we scientists study and search for a function for strange traits and find that they do, indeed, have a function, are we disappointed? On the contrary, when fascinating form and amazing function come together we get a new sort of joy- beyond the joy of beauty and the joy of a well-made machine. It is the joy of something that is, on all accounts, very good - just as the creator said it was.
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