Many of the cutest animals on Earth have one appendage in common. Whether you’re thinking of an adorable raccoon, a kitten, or a puppy, it’s hard to imagine them without their fluffy tail. In fact, the overwhelming majority of animals have tails. Only a select few, like us humans, don’t have an external tail. 

But why don’t humans have tails? To answer that question we have to go way back in our family tree, long before the first hominids ever showed up. We’re talking 25 to 30 million years ago when Megalodon stalked the seas.

Ask Us Anything answers your most outlandish, mind-burning questions—from the everyday things you’ve always wondered to the bizarre things you never thought to ask. So, yes, there’s a best sleep position and no, cremation isn’t good for the Earth. If you have a question for us, send us a note. Nothing is too silly or simple.

This episode is based on the Popular Science article “Why humans don’t have tails.”

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Full Episode Transcript

Sarah Durn: Think of some of the cutest animals you know, a puppy, a kitten, maybe a little red panda. Now, picture them without their tails. 

It’s weird, right? 

Tails are such a normal part of the animal world that we barely think about them, and they’re not just adorable accessories. 

A kangaroo uses its big muscular tail to help it balance. Opossums can use their tails to grip branches. Fish use theirs to propel them through the water. And your dog can communicate an entire emotional journey with just a few well-timed wags. 

Tails can help animals climb, swim, steer, balance, communicate, even swat away an annoying bug.

So what happened to ours? Because humans are part of a huge evolutionary family where tails are basically standard equipment. 

We even briefly start developing a tail when we’re embryos. But look behind you now, and unless something has gone very unexpectedly, you probably don’t have one.

And neither do chimpanzees, gorillas, orangutans, or any of our other ape relatives. So somewhere deep in our evolutionary past, our ancestors lost their tails. But why? And what would life be like if we still had them?

Welcome to Ask Us Anything from the editors of Popular Science, where we answer your questions about our weird world from what’s the best sleep position to why do dogs tilt their heads?

No question is too simple or too out there. I’m Sarah Durn, an editor at Popular Science.

Annie Colbert: And hi, I’m Annie Colbert, editor-in-chief

SD: Here at PopSci, we’re always pondering quirky questions

AC: And this week we’re wondering: Why don’t humans have tails? Because tails are everywhere in the animal kingdom.

SD: And they’re incredibly useful. Beavers use their big flat tails to help maneuver through the water. Some monkeys can basically use their tails like an extra limb, wrapping them around branches as they climb. And rattlesnakes, of course, turn theirs into a built-in warning system

AC: So what happened to ours? Did we just lose them somewhere?

SD: Well, technically, humans never lost them.

AC: Okay.

SD: But that said, we have to go way back in our family tree, tens of millions of years back, to find out why our butts don’t have tails anymore.

AC: I’m guessing the answer isn’t because of pants?

SD: No, you are correct. This goes way beyond pants. We’re talking back to a time when our ancient ape ancestors were still hanging out in trees

AC: So when did tails disappear then? And more importantly, why would you want to give up a perfectly good tail?

SD: That’s the big question because for lots of animals, tails are incredibly useful for balance. But the way our ancient ape ancestors moved through the trees may have actually made a tail kind of pointless.

AC: So evolution really said, “We’re not using this anymore, so just get rid of it.”

SD: Yeah, pretty much. And later we’re going to get into what those ancient apes looked like and why their particular style of tree climbing may have made tails more trouble than they’re worth.

AC: And naturally, we also have to ask the important question: Would life actually be better if humans still had tails?

SD: I have some thoughts.

AC: Same. Many thoughts. 

Now, before we swing into our evolutionary past, we want to know what questions are circling in your brain hole. If there’s something you’ve always wanted to know, submit your questions by clicking the “Ask Us” link at popsci.com/ask.

Again, that’s popsci.com/ask and click the “Ask Us” link

SD: We can’t wait to hear your questions

AC: We’ll be back right after this quick break to find out how humans ended up on team no tail.

SD: And stick around to the end because we’ll be joined by Science Friday host Flora Lichtman to discuss what makes a really good tail and whether she’d want one herself.

And we’re back. Okay, Annie, before this episode, how much time have you spent thinking about your tail?

AC: Absolutely none. I can confidently say I have never yearned for a tail.

SD: Yeah. No, I mean, neither have I, but I have spent a lot of time thinking about my tailbone.

AC: Uh-oh, where is this going?

SD: Yeah. Uh, a couple years ago, I was walking my Saint Bernard, Poochie, when he caught a whiff of something and took off. And me, trying to be a responsible dog walker, tried to hold onto the leash.

AC: Oh no.

SD: Yes, yes, yes. Safe to say Poochie, the Saint Bernard, won, and I fell straight onto my butt.

AC: Oh, Sarah. Ouch

SD: Yes, it was un-ideal. I ended up bruising my tailbone pretty bad.

AC: Mm.

SD: And unfortunately for me, this happened about a week before I left for a two-week long trip to Italy.

AC: Oof.

SD: Rome, Pompeii, the Colosseum, the Amalfi Coast, Puglia, all while carrying a little donut butt pillow everywhere I went.

AC: Oh my.

SD: Sometimes I even wore it as a hat.

AC: I mean, obviously.

SD: You know, sun protection is important.

AC: Crucial.

SD: Yeah, so I have actually spent a bit of time thinking about and cursing our teeny-tiny, mostly not there human tail because out we actually do have a tail. Kinda.

AC: Hmm. All right. Tell me more

SD: That tailbone I bruised, the coccyx, is at the bottom of your spine. 

It’s basically what’s left of when our ancestors actually had a proper external tail.

AC: But humans had more of a tail at one point, right? Like fetuses have tails in the womb?

SD: Correct. When human embryos are developing, we actually form a little tail that extends beyond the rest of the body. But by around eight weeks, that external tail disappears.

AC: So I briefly had a tail?

SD: You did!

AC: Ugh, RIP. Gone too soon.

SD: We should all have a, like, little tail funeral upon our birth.

AC: Eh, that’s obviously the only normal response here.

SD: I mean, obviously. 

Okay, but here’s the thing. Humans didn’t suddenly decide to ditch our tails. We inherited our tailless bodies from our ape ancestors. 

So if we really want to figure out why humans don’t have tails today, we have to first figure out how our furry ancestors lost theirs. And for that, we have to go way back.

AC: How far back are we talking?

SD: Well, first let’s go back about five or six million years. 

That’s roughly when scientists estimate the last common ancestor of humans, chimpanzees, and bonobos lived, and that doesn’t really help us with our tail mystery

AC: Because chimps and bonobos don’t have tails either.

SD: Exactly. And neither do gorillas, orangutans, or any other modern ape. So we have to keep going back.

AC: So rewind. Whoop, rewind.

SD: And eventually we get all the way back to around 25 to 30 million years ago. Megalodon is stalking the seas. Daeodon, aka “hell pigs,” were roaming North American forests. And keep in mind, we’re still tens of millions of years before the first saber-toothed cats and mammoths pop up. 

And this is where things get interesting because around this time, our ape ancestors branched off from the ancestors of modern monkeys.

AC: And monkeys do have tails.

SD: Right. Most do. 

So somewhere around this part of our family tree, around 25 to 30 million years ago, we finally crossed over to the tailless side from our tailed ancestors. 

The frustrating thing is the fossil record doesn’t give us a perfect family album. We can’t point to one specific ancient ape and say, “There, that’s our ancestor, that’s the one that lost the tail.” But we can find clues, and one of the best clues comes from an ancient ape called Ekembo.

AC: Tell us your secret, ancient ape

SD: Yes! Tell them. So fossils from this genus have been found in Kenya and date back about 17 to 20 million years. And these animals would’ve looked pretty different from modern apes. 

One species, Ekembo heseloni, probably had arms and legs that were roughly the same size. It climbed around on tree branches on all fours, and it had a long, flexible lower back, unlike modern apes. But there’s one thing we know it didn’t have.

AC: A tail?

SD: Exactly. And we can tell because of particular bone, the sacrum.

AC: And where is my sacrum?

SD: It’s right at the base of your lower spine, and it’s actually one of the places scientists can look to to figure out whether an animal could have supported a tail or not. 

If you look at the sacrum of a cat or another tailed mammal, it leads into a whole bunch of tail vertebrae. 

But in humans and apes, the sacrum just ends in a, you know, little point. And scientists see that little point in Ekembo heseloni. So even though this animal lived up to 20 million years ago, we know they didn’t have a tail.

AC: So by 20 million years ago, the tail was already gone.

SD: At least in Ekembo.

AC: Mm.

SD: And it’s not alone. 

Another ancient ape called Nacholapithecus shows up in Kenya around 15 million years ago, and fossils of its sacrum show the same thing. It couldn’t have supported a tail either. 

So we don’t know exactly which one of these ancient apes ultimately gave rise to later hominids, aka our ancestors, but we do know that tailless apes were already walking or climbing around millions and millions of years before humans existed.

AC: Okay, so we know the tail disappeared way back in our evolutionary history, but that still leaves the biggest question, which is why? Like, why would you give up a tail? They seem kind of awesome.

SD: And this is where we get into a little bit of scientific speculation because we don’t have one definitive answer. 

One possibility is that it has to do with the way these early apes moved. Think about modern animals that really benefit from tails. 

If you’re a cheetah sprinting and making incredibly fast turns, a tail can help you balance. Or if you’re a monkey moving quickly through the trees, a tail can be really useful. But these early apes weren’t moving like modern monkeys.

AC: So what were they doing?

SD: Well, millions of years ago, these apes probably had arms and legs that were about the same length, and scientists think they walked on all fours. 

They were also climbing through trees looking for fruit. And if you’re trying to get some delicious fruit growing way out on the edge of a branch, you don’t necessarily want to go flying through the canopy. 

You want to move slowly and carefully they could support their weight across multiple branches and deliberately work their way towards the good stuff.

AC: So less swinging dramatically through the jungle…

SD: …and more very cautious trip to the fruit bowl. 

AC: Got it.

SD: And if you’re moving that slowly and deliberately, a tail might not give you much of an advantage. In fact, it could actually come with costs. 

Your body has to spend energy growing this whole extra appendage, and then you’re dragging it around behind you where a predator could potentially grab it.

So as the University of Missouri anatomist Carol Ward told Popular Science, for these slow-moving, careful climbers, the tail just didn’t offer an advantage.

AC: So after all of this, the answer to why don’t humans have tails is basically because our ancestors stopped needing them.

SD: That’s one theory, but the important thing is that we didn’t lose our tails because humans started walking upright or because of something that happened recently in human evolution. 

By the time anything resembling a human showed up, tails had already been absent from our branch of the family tree for millions and millions of years

AC: So I never really stood a chance.

SD: Nope. You were born into a long, proud lineage of tailless apes.

AC: Yet after this whole conversation, I’m starting to feel like we kinda got a bad deal.

SD: Yeah, well, before you get too jealous of Team Tail, there is someone I want us to talk to because last year Science Friday host Flora Lichtman went looking for an answer to a very important question. If you are gonna have a tail, what’s the best one to have?

AC: Ooh, yes. Let’s talk upgrades.

SD: Yes, let’s. We’ll talk with Flora about the science of tails, whether there really is a best tail for balance, and whether she’d actually want one herself. That’s after this quick break. 

And we’re back with Flora Lichtman. Flora is a podcaster extraordinaire, an Emmy-nominated writer for Bill Nye’s Netflix show, Bill Nye Saves the World, and one of the hosts of Science Friday, a public radio program and podcast about science, nature, technology, and health. 

Flora, thank you so much for making the time to come on Popular Science’s Ask Us Anything podcast.

Flora Lichtman: I am delighted to be here. Thank you for the invitation, and I love tails, so glad to talk about them.

SD: So yes, as you know, throughout this episode, we’ve been talking all about why humans don’t have tails when so many animals do, and last year you actually explored an important piece of this puzzle on a Science Friday episode called “In Search of the Best Tail for Balance,” which we’ll link in the show notes.

In the episode, you talked with roboticist Dr. Talia Moore and developmental biologist Dr. Ceri Weber about their work into figuring out what’s the best tail, and how a tail could actually help us build better robots.

So obviously I have to ask: Is there actually a best tail for balance?

FL: You know, of course, if you ask scientists, they’ll never give you a best because that’s their, their whole job is to find the nuance and the complicated elements of every story. But what I did learn from them is that there are ways to design tails so that they do their job better.

SD: Hmm.

FL: And the thing that I didn’t know about tails is that they’re an inertial appendage, which is not a term I’d heard.

But the way these researchers described it is that it’s like a tightrope walker’s stick.

SD: Hmm.

FL: That you use to sort of regain your balance. Like that, for animals with tails, that is a primary reason why they have a tail.

SD: Yeah.

FL: The difference, though, between a tightrope walker stick and a tail is that most tails aren’t rigid rods, right? Like, they’re curvy and they’re twisty. 

So what these researchers did is this simulation to try to compare, you know, what tails work best as this inertial appendage, and they found that design matters, and, like, you can optimize basically the bones in the tail to make them work better. And they found, it turns out if you have, like, short bones, then long bones, then short bones, that gives you a very good tail. 

And it turns out that a lot of mammals in the animal kingdom have tails just like this.

SD: Wow. Amazing. So after spending all of this time thinking about tails: Would you want one?

FL: You know, Sarah, I’ve been thinking about that. Here’s the problem. I already have such a problem finding pants that I like and that fit, so I feel like the tail is just not a challenge I need. 

On the other hand, I’m also very clumsy, and I do feel like maybe a tail would’ve helped me in the past.

SD: Yes.

FL: …keep my balance.

SD: Yeah. Yeah, I mean, like theoretically, pants aside, if you did have a tail as a human, what would be different? What would be harder? What would be easier?

FL: I mean, besides my look, I think, the thing that would be easier is walking on a slippery, icy day in the Northeast.

SD: Mm-hmm.

FL: I think they do really help you regain balance. I like the idea of being able to swing from the trees.

SD: Yeah.

FL: I’m at the playground a lot with my kids. I feel like it would be a real flex to get on those monkey bars with a tail.

SD: Oh my God, you’d be the coolest mom.

FL: The something-ist mom for sure.

Would you want a tail?

SD: I think, yeah, I mean, I guess, like, I think I would. I think it’d be fun. I feel like it’s kinda like having wings, you know? 

You’d be definitely, like, ostracized a little bit. Like, people would look at you funny, but you could do a lot of cool stuff. I don’t know. I look at squirrels, and they’re basically flying, 

FL: That’s true.

SD: Okay, so you also encountered a lot of impressive tales, I’m sure, in your reporting. Do you have a favorite tale from the animal world?

FL: I’m really love seahorse tails.

SD: Oh, yeah.

FL: They’re so iconic and twisty and beautiful and they really need them because they’re these lightweight little animals that are, like, being, you know, battered by ocean waves, and they can use them to hang on. 

But I was reading that not only that, which is like, that’s all cool, but actually, while most tails are cylindrical, the seahorse tail actually has a square profile, which I thought was cool, too.

So it’s… I don’t know. I’m into the seahorse tail.

SD: Yeah, no, excellent choice. Excellent, excellent choice. Flora, thank you so much for taking the time to talk tails with us. It was absolutely lovely.

FL: Delighted to be here. I would love to come back anytime.

SD: Oh, we’d love to have you.

AC: Okay, I started this episode having never really thought about having a tail, and now I definitely feel like maybe I’m missing out. Like, when I need help holding things, give me a tail.

SD: Same. Although after my tailbone incident, maybe I shouldn’t be trusted with an additional appendage.

AC: Yeah, that’s maybe for the best. 

And that’s it for this episode. But don’t worry, we’ve got more episodes of Ask Us Anything live in our feed right now. Follow or subscribe to Ask Us Anything by Popular Science wherever you enjoy your podcasts.

And if you like our show, please leave a rating and a review

SD: If you could have any animal’s tail, which one would you want? Tell us in the comments.

AC: Yes, we want to know.

SD: We wanna know. Our producer is Alan Haburchak. This week’s episode was based on an article written for Popular Science by Sarah Kiley Watson, and a big thank you to Flora Lichtman for joining us.

AC: Thank you team, thank you tails, and thank you everyone for listening

SD: And one more time, if you want something you’ve always wondered about explained on a future episode, go to popsci.com/ask and click the “Ask Us” link. Until next time, be careful with your tailbone and keep the questions coming.

AC: Wait, if we had tails, what would chairs look like? And pants, and car seats.

SD: Planes? It’d be kind of cute to see all the tails lined up.

AC: I feel like we need tails. It’s time to change up humans.

SD: Let’s do it. I’m ready.

AC: Yeah. We had a good run.

The post Humans were never built for tails. Here’s why. appeared first on Popular Science.

A small puncture wound through a 75,000-year-old Neanderthal shoulder blade may be the earliest evidence of death by spear on humanity’s family tree. Given forensic details such as the entry angle and overall damage, researchers believe the injury was made as an intentionally fatal “heart shot” that killed the ancient hominin within moments. The discovery is detailed in a study published today in the journal Scientific Reports. 

In addition to the grisly injury, the nearly translucent bone itself makes this evidence even more striking.

“It’s extraordinary to have a perfectly preserved scapula from 75,000 years ago. These bones are so thin that you often don’t get complete scapulae from modern burials,” explained University of Cambridge archaeologist and study co-author Emma Pomeroy. “We were able to lift it out in one piece from under almost eight meters [roughly 26 feet] of rock and sediment.”

Pomeroy and her colleagues excavated the remains from inside Shanidar Cave, an archaeological site in Iraqi Kurdistan famous for containing evidence of ritualistic Neanderthal burials. The roughly 0.6 inch, nearly circular perforation on the bone was likely made with a wooden spear, since a stone or flint tip would create a flatter injury and leave behind microscopic mineral shards. The individual who inflicted the fatal injury drove the spear downward through the victim’s left chest cavity from the front, piercing major arteries and the lungs before creating the hole in the left scapula.

Remnants of a wooden spear weren’t found near the Neanderthal’s remains, which is understandable since the material often decomposes so quickly. That said, prior archaeological digs have revealed similar prehistoric wooden weapons dating as far back as 400,000 years. Pomeroy’s team believes a rounded spear carved from wood almost certainly caused the killing blow.

“Holes left by recreations of spears from this time are an excellent fit for the one we found in the Neanderthal scapula. That early technology absolutely works for this wound,” said Pomeroy.

Although it’s possible that a mishap like a hunting accident was the cause of death, Pomeroy argues the cumulative details suggest something far more purposeful.

“The position of the wound and the force required to push it right through the Neanderthal’s body bear the hallmarks of an intended kill shot directed towards the heart,” she added.

Another major injury the victim sustained before the possible stabbing supports this hypothesis—and complicates the story. In addition to the scapula, archaeologists documented a pair of left ribs, a right rib fragment, a nearly complete right hand, and seven teeth. Collectively, the remains indicate the Neanderthal was about 45 years old at the time of death. However, dental damage reveals the individual suffered a severe blunt-force blow to the front of the face at least a year before death. This injury split a lower front incisor lengthwise and even rotated some teeth inward.

“There’s no doubt that [they] would have had difficulty communicating and been in absolute agony for a long period of time,” said Pomeroy.

Despite this blow to the mouth, the Neanderthal survived for months or even years. This was only possible because others must have cared for the individual, including duties as simple as preparing softer foods to eat. In this sense, there is a distinct possibility the spear wound was a final, merciful act by someone close to them. According to Pomeroy, the prehistoric scene showcases both the highs and lows of what it means to be a human.

“On the one hand, we have evidence of a terribly violent end,” she said. “On the other, this was clearly an individual who was cared for during their lifetime.”

The post 75,000 years ago, this Neanderthal was stabbed with a spear appeared first on Popular Science.

They’re some of Earth’s most powerful athletes, traversing thousands of miles of rough terrain in sub-zero temperatures, through blinding snow, and biting winds. Sled dogs have been helping humans travel across the planet’s coldest regions for centuries, hauling supplies, people, and equipment across the snow and ice. In the process, this important role that goes above and beyond simply being “man’s best friend” could have a visible impact on their evolution.

Sled dogs may have evolved shorter legs to help them pull loads more efficiently. Currently working sled dogs and those that lived about 2,000 years ago have six percent shorter leg bones than similar species, according to a study published today in the journal iScience. These findings could help biologists trace the origins of sled dogs and understand more about how dog-powered transportation spread over the past 9,000 years. 

“Sled dogs have played an indispensable role in communities in the Arctic,” Mitya Kletzerman, a study co-author and an archeologist at the University of Haifa in Israel, said in a statement. “Without dogs, people couldn’t move as efficiently to hunt, relocate as conditions changed, or travel between communities to exchange knowledge and share new ideas. Understanding how the practice evolved could give us new insights into how people adapted to life in the Arctic.” 

As of now, our earliest archeological evidence associated with dog sledding comes from 9,000-year-old sled parts and dog remains uncovered in 2017 on Zhokhov Island (present-day Russia). Sledding equipment like this is rarely found in the archaeological record, so it has remained difficult to pinpoint when and where the practice first emerged or spread. 

Earlier studies have shown that work associated with humans can leave traces in an animal’s skeleton. Reindeer used for racing, carrying loads, and pulling have limb bone differences compared to those that do not pull. Kletzerman and her team were curious if sled dogs have also developed particular skeletal traits that have helped them adapt to all of the physical demands of pulling a sled. 

In the study, the team developed a biomechanical model to help them understand how a dog’s body handles the work of pulling a sled. The model showed that one effective way to pull a sled loaded with material is for a dog to lower its center of gravity. This increases the canine’s ability to generate pulling force.  

“When people or animals pull a load, it tends to tip them backward. A lower or more forward position of the center of mass counteracts this effect, allowing greater pulling force,” Kletzerman explained. 

They then tested whether modern sled dogs have skeletal proportions that can lower their center of mass. They analyzed bones in 60 different modern canids, including sled dogs, wolves, spitzes, and mongrels. They then compared the lengths of five leg bones. Three in the forelegs (the humerus, radius, and ulna) and two in the hind legs (femur and tibia).

After accounting for overall skeletal size, they found that sled dogs have relatively shorter radius, ulna, and tibia bones than their non-sled pulling counterparts. These bones measured about six percent shorter on average.  

“It’s unclear how this trait developed, but selective pressure may have preserved it, because it gave sled dogs an advantage over other dogs,” Kletzerman said. 

To see if this characteristic already existed in ancient dogs, the team analyzed 82 ancient dog bones and three skeletons. The three skeletons were from ritually buried dogs uncovered from three archaeological sites associated with ancestral Inuit populations in present-day Chukotka, Russia, and date to 2,000 to 500 years ago.  

Nearly 89 percent of the bones were consistent with the modern sled-dog pattern of shorter leg bones, as were all three ritually buried dogs. According to the team, this suggests that the skeletal pattern may be an effective way to identify that canine remains belonged to a sled dog, even when archaeological remains are incomplete or do not have any direct evidence of sled equipment. 

“Dogs have been working alongside humans for thousands of years, but we’re only beginning to understand how that partnership shaped them,” Kletzerman concluded.

The post Sled dogs have stubby legs for a reason appeared first on Popular Science.

It’s one of nature’s seemingly magical tricks. A honey bee (Apis mellifera) stings a victim, and the stinger will still pump venom into a wound even after it has fully detached from the bee’s body. Thanks to some high-speed video, we may finally know the secrets behind this sting. 

A team in Australia found that the tiny 2 millimeter (or only 0.08 inch) stinger of a honey bee works like a double-piston micro-pump. It pumps in two different directions and can deliver a continuous flow of venom. The findings are described in a study published today in the journal PNAS.

“We’ve known since as early as 1910 that the venom sac of a honey bee stinger empties into a chamber with little pumping elements called valves, but until now we didn’t know exactly how they work,” Fiorella Ramirez-Esquivel, a study co-author and entomologist at Macquarie University, said in a statement. “If you’ve ever been stung by a bee, you’ll know it’s a very painful process, but now we’ve been able to identify all the working parts packed into the tiny stinger.”

In bees, autotomy is when a worker bee thrusts its stinger into a target and then leaves the stinger behind. The stinger then continues to penetrate into the target tissue and inject venom all on its own. 

To better understand how autotomy works, the team from Macquarie and the University of New South Wales had bees sting a clear gel that mimics human skin, while taking high-speed video. They saw that the tiny stinger itself contains several different components including one venom sac and a pumping chamber, muscles, and nerves. The stinger also has two sharp, pointed lancets. These lancets slide backwards and forwards on a system of rails (called the olistheter), similar to a reciprocating saw. These saw-like lancets are what pushes the stinger deeper into the skin and also pumps the venom.

Each of the two long lancets has a valve attached to it that sits inside of the pumping chamber. The team found that these valves change shape to form a seal during the downstroke. They then collapse during the upstroke, creating pressure for pumping while minimizing backflow when refilling.

“Finally, and perhaps most dramatically, as the valves meet in the middle of the stroke, they change shape again to push past each other,” said Ramirez-Esquivel. “This is a remarkable strategy to pump fluid since maintaining a seal is vital to effectively transmit pressure. The unique geometry of the valves is the key; they act as collapsible pistons and—by pumping in opposite directions—they’re able to deliver a continuous flow of venom.”

The team continued to explore the mechanics and flow of the stinger with microCT scans. They then used these scans to 3D print a small robot of the bulb chamber and lancets. The tiny bee-bot confirmed these key features of the pumping cycle.

“The double piston design adds complexity but it’s the key to the stinger being able to deliver venom continuously in a compact, autonomous unit,” said Dr Ramirez-Esquivel.

Understanding this mechanism could inspire designs for new micropumps to deliver medicine to human patients in a less invasive way.

The post Bee stingers work like saws to pump venom   appeared first on Popular Science.

A first-of-its-kind genetic analysis of dog breeds presents the clearest insights into why larger dogs rarely outlive their smaller relatives. According to a team of biologists writing in the journal Science, the longstanding size–age correlation is likely due to “jumping genes” that inevitably begin sowing chaos inside canine DNA as dogs get older.

Most dog owners are aware of an unfortunate rule of thumb—the bigger the pooch, the shorter the lifespan. While this trend isn’t always the case, breeds like the Great Dane generally don’t stick around as long as smaller relatives like golden retrievers or even pugs. Larger dogs are also much more prone to age-related health issues and diseases. These canine traits starkly contrast with what biologists often see in other mammals, where larger species like whales frequently live much longer than tiny animals such as rodents. But these mysteries make your favorite furry friend’s genetics incredibly intriguing to researchers.

“Dogs provide an extraordinary model for understanding aging because they show dramatic variation in lifespan within a single species,” explained study co-author and Arizona State University (ASU) evolutionary biologist Noah Snyder-Mackler.

Dogs’ longstanding 30,000 plus years of companionship with humans also poses a unique opportunity for scientists. Pets and their owners share many of the same day-to-day experiences, environments, and physical habits, so it stands to reason that a better understanding of canine genes could guide future studies of human biology. Knowing this, Snyder-Mackler and his colleagues recently examined genetic data from 864 dogs stored in the Dog Aging Project. They specifically focused on mapping genome-wide DNA methylation, which allows genes to express themselves without altering their DNA sequence. DNA methylation is part of the larger epigenome influenced by external factors like stress and diet, and it’s also a widely known indicator of aging and DNA regulation. 

Snyder-Mackler’s team discovered a dog breed’s aging is specifically tied to losing regulation in a class of transposable elements, or “jumping genes,” called LINE1s. These genes copy and intersperse throughout the genome by leaping between chromosomes, which damages DNA. This initially isn’t too problematic thanks to the regulation from DNA methylation, but that ability decreases with age. Less regulation means more damage in the form of genetic instability, diseases, and cancer.

“What we found is that the epigenetic regulation of transposable elements—especially LINE1s—appears to be a major factor shaping how quickly different dogs age,” Snyder-Mackler said.

Over 40 percent of LINE1-related portions of the genome lose DNA methylation as a dog ages, but the speed of decline is much faster in bigger breeds. The team’s findings showed larger dogs lost an average of 35 percent more LINE1 methylation than smaller canines. 

“It suggests that faster aging in larger dogs may be driven, at least in part, by reduced control over these ‘jumping genes,’” concluded ASU genomicist and study co-author Blaise Mariner.

It’s still unclear if LINE1 behavior causes species to age, but the recent work emphasizes these genetic areas are focal points in biological aging. Beyond understanding aging differences among dog breeds, the discoveries may guide research into similar genetic changes in humans.

“If that’s the case, targeting these elements or the mechanisms that regulate them could be a promising avenue for future therapies to extend the health span in humans,” said Snyder-Mackler.

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