Last month, I hosted a post by historian Florike Egmond on my Guardian blog Animal Magic, one that proved incredibly popular.
A few years ago, Egmond was in the Amsterdam University Library when she discovered an amazing collection of 16th-century drawings and watercolours of animals collected by the founding father of zoology Conrad Gessner and his fellow Swiss successor Felix Platter. These and many more illustrations feature in her new book on early modern natural history illustration, Eye For Detail (Reaktion Books, 2017) and I invited Egmond (with the kind permission of Amsterdam University Library) to put together a gallery of some of these amazing illustrations.
Inspired, I flipped through an online copy of Historia Animalium (on the brilliant website archive.org). I was able to locate many of the reproductions of many of Egmond’s originals, but I love this engraving of a bear, with its beautifully rendered fur.
It’s true. Male pandas have such teensy winkies that many humans trained in the ways of sexing bears have mistaken boy pandas for girl pandas. Female pandas have a reproductive window so fleeting – just a day or two a year – that even if a male panda were to erect his little soldier, it would be unlikely to see any action. Based on these two observations, many people like to imagine that pandas are sexually inadequate, a species that would surely be extinct were it not for the supportive role played by humans.
The truth about pandas and sex is rather different and, in my considered opinion, a whole lot more interesting. When I meet someone who subscribes to the pandas-are-rubbish-at-sex school of thought, I have to ask how it is that this species has been roaming the earth – in roughly its current shape and form – for some 20 million years. This, I like to point out, is approximately 20 million years longer than Homo sapiens have been around.
Clearly, pandas do not have a problem with sex. In fact, from an evolutionary perspective they appear to be really rather good at it. So what is going on here? How did this myth get started and why is it still so widely held?
For all the evolutionary distance between pandas and humans, there are some superficial similarities. The panda is rounded like a human baby, it appears to have large, child-like eyes, with little or no tail and it sits on its bottom a lot, all characteristics that might account for the immense popular appeal of Ailuropoda melanoleuca. Lulled into an anthropomorphic mindset, it seems that many people see pandas as wannabe humans, quasi-hominids that would kill to have bigger penises, more frequent menstruation and much, much more sex.
The reality, in fact, is that those who mock pandas for being sexually incompetent are not really talking about actual pandas. They are referring to zoo pandas, a contrivance that says far more about the failure of humans than about black and white bears.
The first specimens to find themselves behind bars lived very short lives at Chengdu Zoo in the 1930s. They did not die because pandas are rubbish at surviving, but because they were given food fit for humans. The first panda to reach the West – a male called Su-Lin whose genitals are illustrated above – went on show at Brookfield Zoo in Chicago in 1936. The first panda conceived and born in captivity caused a stir, but only in 1963. London Zoo’s celebrity panda Chi-Chi braved the Cold War to hook up with a Soviet panda An-An at Moscow Zoo, but she died cubless in 1972. The Nixon pandas – male Hsing Hsing and female Ling Ling – spent the rest of the 1970s frustrating keepers at the National Zoo in Washington D.C. Artificial insemination and monitoring the reproductive hormones of females improved the captive panda birth stats a touch, but in March every year zoos the world over still go through the same pregnancy-based pantomime.
As far as we can tell, pandas do sex very differently in the wild. As pandas travel through their forested landscape, they leave frequent markings, olfactory messages that carry information on gender, age, proximity and fertility. When a female comes into season, these evolved signals attract males from far and wide. She may even be drawing many males together, letting them tussle for supremacy, then making her choice. Threesomes or more-somes are not unknown. Frequent copulation is common, some pairs having sex around 50 times in just a few hours. These are highly productive couplings too, with females rarely missing an opportunity to fall pregnant.
So the answer to the question “Why don’t pandas have more sex?” is pretty simple. Because natural selection has resulted in a different way of doing it. Of course, none of this is going to stop the silly jokes about panda sex. So in the interest of balance, I like to imagine a pair of pandas sitting together in the forests of Sichuan, cracking bamboo in a moment of postcoital bliss and cracking jokes at the expense of humans, mocking their weird, drunken mating rituals, their single-bout sex and their frequent failure to conceive.
I’ve just returned from a mind-blowing trip to Stanford University, five days of back-to-back interviews with some of the most important figures in sleep research. It’ll all be in the book. This was made possible by a generous grant from The Society of Authors.
I got to meet William Dement, a legend in the field of sleep medicine and the reason why Stanford has such a high concentration of great doctors and researchers interested in sleep. I spent several delightful hours in the company of Christian Guilleminault, less well known than Dement but, in my view, an equal partner in the Stanford adventure.
Emmanuel Mignot (aka Dr Narcolepsy) gave me almost three hours of his time on President’s Day to talk through his work on the genetics and immunology of narcolepsy and more recent research on the genetics of Kleine-Levin Syndrome. He brought with him his dog Watson, a cute narcoleptic Chihuahua.
I met Samantha Lundquist, an animal behaviourist at the Penninsula Humane Society and owner of three huge dogs (one of them, Charlie, a narcoleptic). Neither dog experienced cataplexy in my company, which I was a little sad about, but I know better than anyone that cataplexy tends to come in the company of friends and not strangers.
I found out about some clever research that Jamie Zeitzer is involved with, using flashing lights to cause rapid shifts in the central circadian clock, which could be of immense benefit for shift-workers and would solve the problem of jetlag overnight. Quite literally.
I had an incredibly exciting time with Luis de Lecea, who was one of the researchers who first described hypocretins almost 20 years ago. He is using optogenetics and mice to understand the hypocretin pathway (and other neural networks). As a consequence he probably knows more about the myriad functions of this powerful neuromodulator than anyone alive. I was anxious that I would come out of this interview more confused than I went in (because the brain is so fiendishly complex) but I now have a very clear idea of the main functions that hypocretin performs, an insight that helps explain much about the narcoleptic condition (caused, of course, by a failure of the hypocretin system).
Using similarly cutting edge methods, Philippe Mourrain made a compelling case for using a simple animal model like the zebrafish to unpick the circuitry underlying sleep (rather than a crazily complex species like Homo sapiens). By tagging neurons with green fluorescent protein and because zebrafish larvae are transparent, it’s possible to see neurons firing in real time in a live animal in parts of the brain that in humans are buried far beneath the thick cortical surface. Yes, although fishes don’t close their eyes (they have no eyelids), they do sleep. They also have what looks like a rapid eye movement phase, except that Mourrain doesn’t like to call it REM because there’s no movement of the eyes. He prefers paradoxical sleep.
I also attended a lecture, part of the famous Sleep and Dreams course that Dement began at Stanford more than 40 years ago. Meir Kryger, who I’ve already interviewed about sleep apnea, was over from Yale University and spoke about the dangers of sleep deprivation and it’s implications for individuals and society.
All I have to do now is to get hours of interviews transcribed and written up while it’s still fresh. Gulp!
Lonesome George the giant tortoise, the last individual of his species, has returned to Galapagos after an absence of almost five years. Following his unexpected death in 2012, the Galapagos National Park agreed to send him to a top-end taxidermist in New York. After painstaking treatment, George went on show at the American Museum of Natural History in 2014. He is now back in Galapagos, the centerpiece of a new exhibition aimed at visitors to the Fausto Llerena Breeding Center on Santa Cruz.
By the time I met Lonesome George during my first visit to Galapagos in 2003, he had become the face of extinction. I read the information panel around his enclosure: “Whatever happens to this animal, let him always remind us that the fate of all living things is in human hands.” I was not, however, overly impressed with this shy, retiring reptile and had no idea it was to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Back at home in the UK, George’s influence on me started to grow. At the start of a career as a science journalist, I wrote about him, first a feature in Nature, then a popular science book called Lonesome George, until hardly a month would pass without me being called to comment on some aspect of his life. I should have become accustomed to George’s capacity to generate news, but every time he impressed me. There is no individual – animal or human – that could communicate the conservation message quite like George.
I love it that he’s still up to his old tricks, even in death. See also my Guardian blog Animal Magic.
Finally. A victory for common sense. The Court of Appeal in the UK has ruled against the Department for Work and Pensions in favour of a boy who developed narcolepsy at the age of seven following vaccination with GSK’s swine flu vaccine Pandemrix in 2009. This judgment has significant implications for other Pandemrix children and their families.
The link between Pandemrix and narcolepsy in children began to emerge in the summer of 2010, with epidemiologists subsequently providing compelling evidence of a causal link. The child in this case – John, now 14-years-old – is just one of many to have applied to the DWP for compensation under the Vaccine Damage Act 1979, but his story reveals just how difficult it has been for Pandemrix victims to be taken seriously and just how ignorant otherwise intelligent people still are about what it’s like to live with narcolepsy.
Initially, the DWP denied John compensation, arguing that his disability was not sufficiently severe. John appealed to the First Tier Tribunal and won. The DWP appealed the First Tier Tribunal’s decision to the Upper Tribunal, now claiming that the judgment should be made solely on current disability rather than taking future disability into account. When this was rejected, the DWP had to pay out the one-off sum of £120,000, but made another effort to reverse the decision at the Court of Appeal. All this appealing is unappealing. Today, they lost.
“This important decision brings clarity to anyone who brings claims under the Vaccine Damage Payment Act in future,” the boy’s solicitor Peter Todd of Hodge, Jones & Allen said in a statement. “It will in particular bring welcome relief to those who developed narcolepsy as a result of taking the swine flu vaccination and who have been awaiting payment from the DWP scheme, but also has implications for anyone affected by other vaccines covered by the scheme.”
There are currently around 100 children in the UK identified as having developed narcolepsy following vaccination with Pandemrix.
The benefits of vaccination to society are beyond question. But when there are adverse reactions, they hit individuals and not society. In these rare cases, it seems only right that the government of the day should be supporting those affected in whatever way they can. It saddens me that the default position here seems to have been to argue that narcolepsy is not particularly disabling and that its impact on future life can be dismissed.
I have had narcolepsy for over 20 years and know these two assertions to be false. I am almost finished with my book on narcolepsy, sleep and sleep disorders, which I hope will help raise awareness of what it’s really like to live with this devastating neurological disorder. Stay tuned.
It is now virtually certain that Tian Tian, the female giant panda at Edinburgh Zoo, is no longer pregnant.
Following artificial insemination in April, the zoo has been tracking Tian Tian’s hormone levels. The one to watch is progesterone. At around the time of ovulation, there is a small rise, with levels remaining roughly constant for several months. At this stage, the embryo is fertilized but is not developing. Then, some 60 to 100 days later, progesterone levels jump again from around 250 ng to 2500 ng (per gram of faeces) and the embryo begins to divide. In a press release, tantalizing entitled “Panda update: definitely maybe!”, Edinburgh Zoo told us that this second rise occurred on 15 July.
According to the latest study of pandas whose pregnancies went to term, a female will give birth, on average, 38.8 days later. There is a large variation though, with the swiftest female giving birth just 26 days after the jump in progesterone and the slowest female 55 days after. If Tian Tian were on the pacey side, she’d have dropped a month ago on 10 August. Even if she were more ponderous, she’d have given birth by now. She has not.
On Friday, Edinburgh Zoo’s chief executive issued a blog post that talked of “a flurry of new births” but made no mention – not even in passing – of Tian Tian’s pregnancy. Today, after much badgering, the zoo finally issued a brief update, saying that “we’re not out of the game.” It goes on:
We are continually analysing hormone and protein samples and, based on the latest results, our external experts now believe Tian Tian may have experienced her secondary progesterone spike two weeks later than the results previously available suggested.
I’m a journalist not a panda biologist, but looking at the graphs of what progesterone does in a pregnant panda, it is somewhat baffling that the zoo could have mis-identified such a massive change in progesterone. They do say that “Tian Tian is a panda whose behaviour and physiology appears to be more complicated than most!”
I suppose it’s possible that she’s still pregnant. Or, more likely I’m afraid, she’s not.