Year: 2018

Pseudo or science? Interpreting scientific reports

Sean Buckley1 Comment

Telling the real from the fake

The phrase ‘fake news’ seems to get thrown around ad nauseum these days, but there’s a reason for it (besides the original somewhat famous coining of the phrase). Inadvertently bad, or sometimes downright malicious, reporting of various apparent ‘trends’ or ‘patterns’ are rife throughout nearly all forms of media. Particularly, many entirely subjective or blatantly falsified presentations or reports of ‘fact’ cloud real scientific inquiry and its distillation into the broader community. In fact, a recent study has shown that falsified science spreads through social media at orders of magnitude faster than real science: so why is this? And how do we spot the real from the fake?

It’s imperative that we understand what real science entails to be able to separate it from the pseudoscience. Of course, scientific rigour and method are always of utmost importance, but these can be hard to detect (or can be effectively lied through colourful language choices). When reading a scientific article, whether it’s direct from the source (a journal, such as Nature or Science) or secondarily through a media outlet such as the news or online sources, there’s a few things that you should always look for that will help discern between the two categories.

Peer-review and adequate referencing

Firstly, is the science presented in an objective, logical manner? Does it systematically demonstrate the study system and question, with the relevant reference to peer-reviewed literature? Good science builds upon the wealth of previously done good science to contribute to a broader field of knowledge; in this way, critical observations and alternative ideas can be compared and contrasted to steer the broader field. Even entirely novel science, which go against the common consensus, will reference and build upon prior literature and justify the necessity and design of the study. Having written more than one literature review in my life, I can safely assure you that there is no shortage of relevant scientific studies that need to be read, understood and built upon in any future scientific study.

 

Methods, statistics and sampling

Secondly, is there a solid methodological basis for the science? In almost all cases this will include some kind of statistical measure for the validity (and accuracy) of the results. How does the sample size of the study measure up to what the target group? Remember, a study size of 500 people is definitely too small to infer the medical conditions of all humans, but rarely do we get sample sizes that big in evolutionary genetics studies (especially in non-model species). The sampling regime is extremely important for interpreting the results: particularly, keep in mind if there is an inherent bias in the way the sampling has been done. Are some groups more represented than others? Where do the samples come from? What other factors might be influencing the results, based on the origin of the samples?

Cat survey comic 2
Despite having a large sample size, and a significant result (p<0.05), this study cannot conclude that all dogs are awful. It can conclude, however, that cats are statistically significant assholes.

Presentation and language of findings

Thirdly, how does the source present the results? Does it make claims that seem beyond a feasible conclusion based on the study itself? Even if the underlying study is scientific, many secondary sources have a tendency to ‘sensationalise’ the results in order to make them both more appealing and more digestible to the general public. This is only exacerbated by the lack of information of the scientific method of the original paper, actual statistics, or the accurate summation of those statistics. Furthermore, a real scientific study will try to (in most cases) avoid evocative words such as ‘prove’, as a fundamental aspect of science is that no study is 100% ‘proven’ (see falsifiability below). Proofs are a relevant mathematical concept though, but these fall under a different category altogether.

Here’s an example: recently, an Australian mainstream media outlet (among many) shared a story about a ‘recent’ (six months old) study that found that second-born children are more likely to be criminals and first-born children have higher IQ. As you might expect, the original study does not imply that being born second will make you a sudden murderer nor will being the first born make you a prodigy. Instead, the authors suggest that there may be a link between differential parental investment/attention (between different age order children) as a potential mechanism. They ruled out, based on a wealth of statistics, the influence of alternative factors such as health or education (both in quality and quantity). Thus, there is a correlative (read: not causative) effect of age on these characteristics. If you directly interpreted the newscast (or read some of the misguided comments), you might think otherwise.

Falsifiability 

Fourthly, are the hypotheses in the study falsifiable? One of the foundations of the modern scientific method includes the requirement of any real scientific hypothesis to be falsifiable; that is, there must be a way to show evidence against that hypothesis. This can be difficult to evaluate, but is why some broad philosophical questions are considered ‘unscientific’. A classic example is the phrase “all swans are white”, which was apparently historically believed in Europe (where there are no black swans). This statement is technically falsifiable, since if one found a non-white swan it would ‘disprove’ the hypothesis. Lo and behold, Europeans arrive in Australia and find that, actually, some swans are black. The original statement was thus falsified.

Swan comic 2
Well, I’ll be damned falsified. Just pretend the swan is actually black: I don’t have enough ink to make it realistic…

The role of the peer: including you!

Peer-review is a critical aspect of scientific process, and despite some conspiracy-theory-esque remarks about the secret Big Science Society, it generally works. While independent people inevitably have their own personal biases and are naturally subjective to some degree (no matter how hard we may try to be objective), a larger number of well-informed, critical thinkers help to broaden the focus and perspective surrounding any scientific subject. Remember, nothing is more critical of science than science itself.

Peer review comic
One of the most apt representations of peer-review I’ve ever seen, from Dr. Nick D. Kim (PhD). Source: here.

While peer-review is technically aimed at other scientists as a way to steer and inform research, the input of outsider, non-specialist readers can still be informative. By closely looking at science, and better understanding both how it is done and what it is showing, can help us evaluate how valuable science is to broader society and shift scientific information into useful, everyday applications. Furthermore, by educating ourselves on what is real science, and what is disruptive drivel, we can aid the development of science and reduce the slowing impact of misinformation and deceit.

 

 

Evolution and the space-time continuum

Sean Buckley12 Comments

Evolution travelling in time

As I’ve mentioned a few times before, evolution is a constant force that changes and flows over time. While sometimes it’s more convenient to think of evolution as a series of rather discrete events (a species pops up here, a population separates here, etc.), it’s really a more continual process. The context and strength of evolutionary forces, such as natural selection, changes as species and the environment they inhabit also changes. This is important to remember in evolutionary studies because although we might think of more recent and immediate causes of the evolutionary changes we see, they might actually reflect much more historic patterns. For example, extremely low contemporary levels of genetic diversity in cheetah is likely largely due to a severe reduction in their numbers during the last ice age, ~12 thousand years ago (that’s not to say that modern human issues haven’t also been seriously detrimental to them). Similarly, we can see how the low genetic diversity of a small population colonise a new area can have long term effects on their genetic variation: this is called ‘founder effect’. Because of this, we often have to consider the temporal aspect of a species’ evolution.

Founder effect diagram
An example of founder effect. Each circle represents a single organism; the different colours are an indicator of how much genetic diversity that individual possesses (more colours = more variation). We start with a single population; one (A) or two (B) individuals go on a vacation and decide to stay on a new island. Even after the population has become established and grows over time, it takes a long time for new diversity to arise. This is because of the small original population size and genetic diversity; this is called founder effect. The more genetic diversity in the settled population (e.g. B vs A), the faster new diversity arises and the weaker the founder effect.

Evolution travelling across space

If the environmental context of species and populations are also important for determining the evolutionary pathways of organisms, then we must also consider the spatial context. Because of this, we also need to look at where evolution is happening in the world; what kinds of geographic, climatic, hydrological or geological patterns are shaping and influencing the evolution of species? These patterns can influence both neutral or adaptive processes by shaping exactly how populations or species exist in nature; how connected they are, how many populations they can sustain, how large those populations can sustainably become, and what kinds of selective pressures those populations are under.

Allopatry diagram
An example of how the environment (in this case, geology) can have both neutral and adaptive effects. Let’s say we start with one big population of cats (N = 9; A), which is distributed over a single large area (the green box). However, a sudden geological event causes a mountain range to uplift, splitting the population in two (B). Because of the reduced population size and the (likely) randomness of which individuals are on each side, we expect some impact of genetic drift. Thus, this is the neutral influence. Over time, these two separated regions might change climatically (C), with one becoming much more arid and dry (right) and the other more wet and shady (left). Because of the difference of the selective environment, the two populations might adapt differently. This is the adaptive influence. 

Evolution along the space-time continuum

Given that the environment also changes over time (and can be very rapid, and we’ve seen recently), the interaction of the spatial and temporal aspects of evolution are critical in understanding the true evolutionary history of species. As we know, the selective environment is what determines what is, and isn’t, adaptive (or maladaptive), so we can easily imagine how a change in the environment could push changes in species. Even from a neutral perspective, geography is important to consider since it can directly determine which populations are or aren’t connected, how many populations there are in total or how big populations can sustainably get. It’s always important to consider how evolution travels along the space-time continuum.

Genetics TARDIS
“Postgraduate Student Who” doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, unfortunately.

Phylogeography

The field of evolutionary science most concerned with these two factors and how the influence evolution is known as ‘phylogeography’, which I’ve briefly mentioned in previous posts. In essence, phylogeographers are interested in how the general environment (e.g. geology, hydrology, climate, etc) have influenced the distribution of genealogical lineages. That’s a bit of a mouthful and seems a bit complicated, by the genealogical part is important; phylogeography has a keen basis in evolutionary genetics theory and analysis, and explicitly uses genetic data to test patterns of historic evolution. Simply testing the association between broad species or populations, without the genetic background, and their environment, falls under the umbrella field of ‘biogeography’. Semantics, but important.

Birds phylogeo
Some example phylogeographic models created by Zamudio et al. (2016). For each model, there’s a demonstrated relationship between genealogical lineages (left) and the geographic patterns (right), with the colours of the birds indicating some trait (let’s pretend they’re actually super colourful, as birds are). As you can see, depending on which model you look at, you will see a different evolutionary pattern; for example, model A shows specific lineages that are geographically isolated from one another each evolved their own colour. This contrasts with C in that each colour appears to have evolved once in each region based on the genetic history.

For phylogeography, the genetic history of populations or species gives the more accurate overview of their history; it allows us to test when populations or species became separated, which were most closely related, and whether patterns are similar or different across other taxonomic groups. Predominantly, phylogeography is based on neutral genetic variation, as using adaptive variation can confound the patterns we are testing. Additionally, since neutral variation changes over time in a generally predictable, mathematical format (see this post to see what I mean), we can make testable models of various phylogeographic patterns and see how well our genetic data makes sense under each model. For example, we could make a couple different models of how many historic populations there were and see which one makes the most sense for our data (with a statistical basis, of course). This wouldn’t work with genes under selection since they (by their nature) wouldn’t fit a standard ‘neutral’ model.

Coalescent
If it looks mathematically complicated, it’s because it is. This is an example of the coalescent from Brito & Edwards, 2008: a method that maps genes back in time (the different lines) to see where the different variants meet at a common ancestor. These genes are nested within the history of the species as a whole (the ‘tubes’), with many different variables accounted for in the model.

That said, there are plenty of interesting scientific questions within phylogeography that look at exploring the adaptive variation of historic populations or species and how this has influenced their evolution. Although this can’t inherently be built into the same models as the neutral patterns, looking at candidate genes that we think are important for evolution and seeing how their distributions and patterns relate to the overall phylogeographic history of the species is one way of investigating historic adaptive evolution. For example, we might track changes in adaptive genes by seeing which populations have which variants of the gene and referring to our phylogeographic history to see how and when these variants arose. This can help us understand how phylogeographic patterns have influenced the adaptive evolution of different populations or species, or inversely, how adaptive traits might have influenced the geographic distribution of species or populations.

Where did you come from and where will you go?

Phylogeographic studies can tell us a lot about the history of a species, and particularly how that relates to the history of the Earth. All organisms share an intimate relationship with their environment, both over time and space, and keeping this in mind is key for understanding the true evolutionary history of life on Earth.

 

Drifting or driving: directionality in evolution

Sean Buckley26 Comments

How random is evolution?

Often, we like to think of evolution fairly anthropomorphically; as if natural selection actively decides what is, and what isn’t, best for the evolution of a species (or population). Of course, there’s not some explicit Evolution God who decrees how a species should evolve, and in reality, evolution reflects a more probabilistic system. Traits that give a species a better chance of reproducing or surviving, and can be inherited by the offspring, will over time become more and more dominant within the species; contrastingly, traits that do the opposite will be ‘weeded out’ of the gene pool as maladaptive organisms die off or are outcompeted by more ‘fit’ individuals. The fitness value of a trait can be determined from how much the frequency of that trait varies over time.

So, if natural selection is just probabilistic, does this mean evolution is totally random? Is it just that traits are selected based on what just happens to survive and reproduce in nature, or are there more direct mechanisms involved? Well, it turns out both processes are important to some degree. But to get into it, we have to explain the difference between genetic drift and natural selection (we’re assuming here that our particular trait is genetically determined).  

Allele frequency over time diagram
The (statistical) overview of natural selection. In this example, we have two different traits in a population; the blue X and the red O. Our starting population is 20 individuals (N), with 10 of each trait (a 1:1 ratio, or 50% frequency of each). We’re going to assume that, because the blue X is favoured by natural selection, it doubles in frequency each generation (i.e. one individual with the blue X has two offspring with one blue X each). The red O is neither here nor there and is stable over time (one red O produces one red O in the next generation). So, going from Gen 1 to Gen 2, we have twice as many blue Xs (Nt) as we did previously, changing the overall frequency of the traits (highlighted in yellow). Because populations probably don’t exponentially increase every generation, we’ll cut it back down to our original total of 20, but at the same ratios (Np). Over time, we can see that the population gradually accumulates more blue Xs relative to red Os, and by Gen 5 the red O is extinct. Thus, the blue X has evolved!

When we consider the genetic variation within a species to be our focal trait, we can tell that different parts of the genome might be more related with natural selection than others. This makes sense; some mutations in the genome will directly change a trait (like fur colour) which might have a selective benefit or detriment, while others might not change anything physically or change traits that are neither here-nor-there under natural selection (like nose shape in people, for example). We can distinguish between these two by talking about adaptive or neutral variation; adaptive variation has a direct link to natural selection whilst neutral variation is predominantly the product of genetic drift. Depending on our research questions, we might focus on one type of variation over the other, but both are important components of evolution as a whole.

Genetic drift

Genetic drift is considered the random, selectively ‘neutral’ changes in the frequencies of different traits (alleles) over time, due to completely random effects such as random mutations or random loss of alleles. This results in the neutral variation we can observe in the gene pool of the species. Changes in allele frequencies can happen due to entirely stochastic events. If, by chance, all of the individuals with the blue fur variant of a gene are struck by lightning and die, the blue fur allele would end up with a frequency of 0 i.e. go extinct. That’s not to say the blue fur ‘predisposed’ the individuals to be struck be lightning (we assume here, anyway), so it’s not like it was ‘targeted against’ by natural selection (see the bottom figure for this example).

Because neutral variation appears under a totally random, probabilistic model, the mathematical basis of it (such as the rate at which mutations appear) has been well documented and is the foundation of many of the statistical aspects of molecular ecology. Much of our ability to detect which genes are under selection is by seeing how much the frequencies of alleles of that gene vary from the neutral model: if one allele is way more frequent than you’d expect by random genetic drift, then you’d say that it’s likely being ‘pushed’ by something: natural selection.

Manhattan plot example
A Manhattan plot, which measures the level of genetic differentiation between two different groups across the genome. The x-axis shows the length of the genome, in this example colour-coded by the specific chromosome of the sequence, while the y-axis shows the level of differentiation between the two groups being studied. The dots represent certain spots (loci, singular locus) in the genome, with the level of differentiation (Fst) measured for that locus in one group vs that locus in the other group. The dotted line represents the ‘average differentiation’: i.e. how different you’d expect the two groups to be by chance. Anything about that line is significantly different between the two groups, either because of drift or natural selection. This plot has been slightly adapted from Axelsson et al. (2013), who were studying domestication in dogs by comparing the genetic architecture of wild wolves versus domestic dogs. In this example we can see that certain regions of the genome are clearly different between dogs and wolves (circled); when the authors looked at the genes within those blocks, they found that many were related to behavioural changes (nervous system), competitive breeding (sperm-egg recognition) and interestingly, starch digestion. This last category suggests that adaptation to an omnivorous diet (likely human food waste) was key in the domestication process.

Natural selection

Contrastingly to genetic drift, natural selection is when particular traits are directly favoured (or unfavoured) in the environmental context of the population; natural selection is very specific to both the actual trait and how the trait works. A trait is only selected for if it conveys some kind of fitness benefit to the individual; in evolutionary genetics terms, this means it allows the individual to have more offspring or to survive better (usually).

While this might be true for a trait in a certain environment, in another it might be irrelevant or even have the reverse effect. Let’s again consider white fur as our trait under selection. In an arctic environment, white fur might be selected for because it helps the animal to camouflage against the snow to avoid predators or catch prey (and therefore increase survivability). However, in a dense rainforest, white fur would stand out starkly against the shadowy greenery of the foliage and thus make the animal a target, making it more likely to be taken by a predator or avoided by prey (thus decreasing survivability). Thus, fitness is very context-specific.

Who wins? Drift or selection?

So, which is mightier, the pen (drift) or the sword (selection)? Well, it depends on a large number of different factors such as mutation rate, the importance of the trait under selection, and even the size of the population. This last one might seem a little different to the other two, but it’s critically important to which process governs the evolution of the species.

In very small populations, we expect genetic drift to be the stronger process. Natural selection is often comparatively weaker because small populations have less genetic variation for it to act upon; there are less choices for gene variants that might be more beneficial than others. In severe cases, many of the traits are probably very maladaptive, but there’s just no better variant to be selected for; look at the plethora of physiological problems in the cheetah for some examples.

Genetic drift, however, doesn’t really care if there’s “good” or “bad” variation, since it’s totally random. That said, it tends to be stronger in smaller populations because a small, random change in the number or frequency of alleles can have a huge effect on the overall gene pool. Let’s say you have 5 cats in your species; they’re nearly extinct, and probably have very low genetic diversity. If one cat suddenly dies, you’ve lost 20% of your species (and up to that percentage of your genetic variation). However, if you had 500 cats in your species, and one died, you’d lose only <0.2% of your genetic variation and the gene pool would barely even notice. The same applies to random mutations, or if one unlucky cat doesn’t get to breed because it can’t find a mate, or any other random, non-selective reason. One way we can think of this is as ‘random error’ with evolution; even a perfectly adapted organism might not pass on its genes if it is really unlucky. A bigger sample size (i.e. more individuals) means this will have less impact on the total dataset (i.e. the species), though.

Drift in small pops
The effect of genetic drift on small populations. In this example, we have two very similar populations of cats, each with three different alleles (black, blue and green) in similar frequencies across the populations. The major difference is the size of the population; the left is much smaller (5 cats) compared to the right (20 cats). If one cat randomly dies from a bolt of lightning (RIP), and assuming that the colour of the cat has no effect on the likelihood of being struck by lightning (i.e. is not under natural selection), then the outcome of this event is entirely due to genetic drift. In this case, the left population has lost 1/5th of its population size and 1/3rd of its total genetic diversity thanks to the death of the genetically unique blue cat (He will be missed) whereas the right population has only really lost 1/20th of its size and no changes in total diversity (it’ll recover).

Both genetic drift and natural selection are important components of evolution, and together shape the overall patterns of evolution for any given species on the planet. The two processes can even feed into one another; random mutations (drift) might become the genetic basis of new selective traits (natural selection) if the environment changes to suit the new variation. Therefore, to ignore one in favour of the other would fail to capture the full breadth of the processes which ultimately shape and determine the evolution of all species on Earth, and thus the formation of the diversity of life.

“Who Do You Think You Are?”: studying the evolutionary history of species

Sean Buckley13 Comments

The constancy of evolution

Evolution is a constant, endless force which seeks to push and shape species based on the context of their environment: sometimes rapidly, sometimes much more gradually. Although we often think of discrete points of evolution (when one species becomes two, when a particular trait evolves), it is nevertheless a continual force that influences changes in species. These changes are often difficult to ‘unevolve’ and have a certain ‘evolutionary inertia’ to them; because of these factors, it’s often critical to understand how a history of evolution has generated the organisms we see today.

What do I mean when I say evolutionary history? Well, the term is fairly diverse and can relate to the evolution of particular traits or types of traits, or the genetic variation and changes related to these changes. The types of questions and points of interest of evolutionary history can depend at which end of the timescale we look at: recent evolutionary histories, and the genetics related to them, will tell us different information to very ancient evolutionary histories. Let’s hop into our symbolic DeLorean and take a look back in time, shall we?

Labelled_evolhistory
A timeslice of evolutionary history (a pseudo-phylogenetic tree, I guess?), going from more recent history (bottom left) to deeper history (top right). Each region denoted in the tree represents the generally area of focus for each of the following blog headings. 1: Recent evolutionary history might look at individual pedigrees, or comparing populations of a single species. 2: Slightly older comparisons might focus on how species have arisen, and the factors that drive this (part of ‘phylogeography’). 3: Deep history might focus on the origin of whole groups of organisms and a focus on the evolution of particular traits like venom or sociality.

Very recent evolutionary history: pedigrees and populations

While we might ordinarily consider ‘evolutionary history’ to refer to events that happened thousands or millions of years ago, it can still be informative to look at history just a few generations ago. This often involves looking at pedigrees, such as in breeding programs, and trying to see how very short term and rapid evolution may have occurred; this can even include investigating how a particular breeding program might accidentally be causing the species to evolve to adapt to captivity! Rarely does this get referred to as true evolutionary history, but it fits on the spectrum, so I’m going to count it. We might also look at how current populations are evolving differently to one another, to try and predict how they’ll evolve into the future (and thus determine which ones are most at risk, which ones have critically important genetic diversity, and the overall survivability of the total species). This is the basis of ‘evolutionarily significant units’ or ESUs which we previously discussed on The G-CAT.

Captivefishcomic
Maybe goldfish evolved 3 second memory to adapt to the sheer boringness of captivity? …I’m joking, of course: the memory thing is a myth and adaptation works over generations, not a lifetime.

A little further back: phylogeography and species

A little further back, we might start to look at how different populations have formed or changed in semi-recent history (usually looking at the effect of human impacts: we’re really good at screwing things up I’m sorry to say). This can include looking at how populations have (or have not) adapted to new pressures, how stable populations have been over time, or whether new populations are being ‘made’ by recent barriers. At this level of populations and some (or incipient) species, we can find the field of ‘phylogeography’, which involves the study of how historic climate and geography have shaped the evolution of species or caused new species to evolve.

Evolution of salinity
An example of trait-based phylogenetics, looking at the biogeographic patterns and evolution/migration to freshwater in perch-like fishes, by Chen et al. (2014). The phylogeny shows that a group of fishes adapted to freshwater environments (black) from a (likely) saltwater ancestor (white), with euryhaline tolerance evolving two separate times (grey).

One high profile example of phylogeographic studies is the ‘Out of Africa’ hypothesis and debate for the origination of the modern human species. Although there has been no shortage of debate about the origin of modern humans, as well as the fate of our fellow Neanderthals and Denisovans, the ‘Out of Africa’ hypothesis still appears to be the most supported scenario.

human phylogeo
A generalised diagram of the ‘Out of Africa’ hypothesis of human migration, from Oppenheimer, 2012. 

Phylogeography is also component for determining and understanding ‘biodiversity hotspots’; that is, regions which have generated high levels of species diversity and contain many endemic species and populations, such as tropical hotspots or remote temperate regions. These are naturally of very high conservation value and contribute a huge amount to Earth’s biodiversity, ecological functions and potential for us to study evolution in action.

Deep, deep history: phylogenetics and the origin of species (groups)

Even further back, we start to delve into the more traditional concept of evolutionary history. We start to look at how species have formed; what factors caused them to become new species, how stable the new species are, and what are the genetic components underlying the change. This subfield of evolution is called ‘phylogenetics’, and relates to understanding how species or groups of species have evolved and are related to one another.

Sometimes, this includes trying to look at how particular diagnostic traits have evolved in a certain group, like venom within snakes or eusocial groups in bees. Phylogenetic methods are even used to try and predict which species of plants might create compounds which are medically valuable (like aspirin)! Similarly, we can try and predict how invasive a pest species may be based on their phylogenetic (how closely related the species are) and physiological traits in order to safeguard against groups of organisms that are likely to run rampant in new environments. It’s important to understand how and why these traits have evolved to get a good understanding of exactly how the diversity of life on Earth came about.

evolution of venom
An example of looking at trait evolution with phylogenetics, focusing on the evolution of venom in snakes, from Reyes-Velasco et al. (2014). The size of the boxes demonstrates the number of species in each group, with the colours reflecting the number of venomous (red) vs. non-venomous (grey) species. The red dot shows the likely origin of venom.

Phylogenetics also allows us to determine which species are the most ‘evolutionarily unique’; all the special little creatures of plant Earth which represent their own unique types of species, such as the tuatara or the platypus. Naturally, understanding exactly how precious and unique these species are suggests we should focus our conservation attention and particularly conserve them, since there’s nothing else in the world that even comes close!

Who cares what happened in the past right? Well, I do, and you should too! Evolution forms an important component of any conservation management plan, since we obviously want to make sure our species can survive into the future (i.e. adapt to new stressors). Trying to maintain the most ‘evolvable’ groups, particularly within breeding programs, can often be difficult when we have to balance inbreeding depression (not having enough genetic diversity) with outbreeding depression (obscuring good genetic diversity by adding bad genetic diversity into the gene pool). Often, we can best avoid these by identifying which populations are evolutionarily different to one another (see ESUs) and using that as a basis, since outbreeding vs. inbreeding depression can be very difficult to measure. This all goes back to the concept of ‘adaptive potential’ that we’ve discussed a few times before.

In any case, a keen understanding of the evolutionary trajectory of a species is a crucial component for conservation management and to figure out the processes and outcomes of evolution in the real world. Thus, evolutionary history remains a key area of research for both conservation and evolution-related studies.

 

What’s the story with these little fish?

Sean Buckley3 Comments

The pygmy perches

I’ve mentioned a few times in the past that my own research centres around a particular group of fish: the pygmy perches. When I tell people about them, sometimes I get the question “why do you want to study them?” And to be fair, it’s a good question: there must be something inherently interesting about them to be worth researching. And there is plenty.

Pygmy perches are a group of very small (usually 4-6cm) freshwater fish native to temperate Australia: they’re found throughout the southwest corner of WA and the southeast of Australia, stretching from the mouth of the Murray River in SA up to lower Queensland (predominantly throughout the Murray-Darling Basin) and even in northern Tasmania. There’s a massive space in the middle where they aren’t found: this is the Nullarbor Plain, and is a significant barrier for nearly all freshwater species (since it holds practically no water).

Unmack_distributions
The distributions of different pygmy perch species (excluding Bostockia porosa, which is a related but different group), taken from Unmack et al. (2011). The black region in the bottom right part indicates the Nullarbor Plain, which separates eastern and western species.

The group consists of 2 genera (Nannoperca and Nannatherina) and 7 currently described species, although there could be as many as 10 actual species (see ‘cryptic species’: I’ll elaborate on this more in future posts…). They’re very picky about their habitat, preferring to stay within low flow waterbodies with high vegetation cover, such as floodplains and lowland creeks. Most species have a lifespan of a couple years, with different breeding times depending on the species.

Why study pygmy perches?

So, they’re pretty cute little fish. But unfortunately, that’s not usually enough justification to study a particular organism. So, why does the Molecular Ecology Lab choose to use pygmy perch as one (of several) focal groups? Well, there’s a number of different reasons.

The main factors that contribute to their research interest are their other characteristics: because they’re so small and habitat specialists, they often form small, isolated populations that are naturally separated by higher flow rivers and environmental barriers. They also appear to have naturally very low genetic diversity: ordinarily, we’d expect that they wouldn’t be great at adapting and surviving over a long time. Yet, they’ve been here for a long time: so how do they do it? That’s the origin of many of the research questions for pygmy perches.

Adaptive evolution despite low genetic variation

One of the fundamental aspects of the genetic basis of evolution is the connection between genetic diversity and ‘adaptability’: we expect that populations or species with more genetic diversity are much more likely to be able to evolve and adapt to new selective pressures than those without it. Pygmy perches clearly contradict this at least a little bit, and so much of the research in the lab is about understanding exactly what factors and mechanisms contribute to the ability of pygmy perches to apparently adapt and survive what is traditionally not consider a very tolerant place to live. Recent research suggests the different expression of genes may be an important mechanism of adaptation for pygmy perch.

Recommended readings: Brauer et al. (2016); Brauer et al. (2017).

The influence of the historic environment on evolution

From an evolutionary standpoint, pygmy perches are unique in more ways than just their genetic diversity. They’re relatively ancient, with the origin of the group estimated at around 40 million years ago. Since then, they’ve diversified into a number of different species and have spread all over the southern half of the Australian continent, demonstrating multiple movements across Australia in that time. This pattern is unusual for freshwater organisms, and this combined with their ancient nature makes them ideal candidates for studying the influence of historic environment, climate and geology on the evolution and speciation of freshwater animals in Australia. And that’s the focus of my PhD (although not exclusively; plenty of other projects have explored questions in this area).

Bass Strait timelapse
The changing sea levels across the Bass Strait from A) 25 thousand years ago, B) 17.5 thousand years ago, and C) 14 thousand years ago (similar to today), from Lambeck and Chappel (2001). This is an example of one kind of environmental change that would likely have influenced the evolutionary patterns of pygmy perch, separating the populations from northern Tasmania and Victoria.

Recommended readings: Unmack et al. (2013); Unmack et al. (2011).

Conservation management and ecological role

Of course, it’s all well and good to study the natural, evolutionary history of an organism as if it hasn’t had any other influences. But we all know how dramatic the impact humans have on the environment are and unfortunately for many pygmy perch species this means that they are threatened or endangered and at risk of extinction. Their biggest threats are introduced predators (such as the redfin perch and European carp), alteration of waterways (predominantly for agriculture) and of course, climate change. For some populations, local extinction has already happened: some populations of the Yarra pygmy perch (N. obscura) are now completely gone from the wild. Many of these declines occurred during the Millennium Drought, where the aforementioned factors were exacerbated by extremely low water availability and consistently high temperatures. So naturally, a significant proportion of the work on pygmy perches is focused on their conservation, and trying to boost and recover declining populations.

This includes the formation of genetics-based breeding programs for two species, the southern pygmy perch and Yarra pygmy perch. A number of different organisations are involved in this ongoing process, including a couple of schools! These programs are informed by our other studies of pygmy perch evolution and adaptive potential and hopefully combined we can save these species from becoming totally extinct.

Yarra-breeders-vid.gif
Some of the Yarra pygmy perch from the extinct Murray-Darling Basin population, ready to make breeding groups!
Fin clipping Yarras.jpg
Me, fin clipping the Yarra pygmy perch in the breeding groups for later genetic analyses. Yes, I know, I needed a haircut.

Recommended readings: Brauer et al. (2013); Attard et al. (2016); Hammer et al. (2013).

Hopefully, some of this convinces you that pygmy perch are actually rather interesting creatures (I certainly think so!). Pygmy perch research can offer a unique insight into evolutionary history, historical biogeography, and conservation management. Also, they’re kinda cute….so that’s gotta count for something, right? If you wanted to find out more about pygmy perch research, and get updates on our findings, be sure to check out the Molecular Ecology Lab Facebook page or our website!