Most Embarrassing Field Work Fails

I think it’s important to talk about failure. To talk about struggle. To make it clear that none of this is easy, and your struggle is shared by others. No one is perfect, we’re all here to help.

Which is why field work fails are HILARIOUS.

Check out an excellently illustrated list here, or check out a few select ones below. scientist-blunders-fieldwork-fail-jim-jourdane-4-59ad079b5fdc3__700scientist-blunders-fieldwork-fail-jim-jourdane-15-59ad07b75668d__700scientist-blunders-fieldwork-fail-jim-jourdane-17-59ad07baf1981__700

Telomeres are the new cholesterol

Telomeres are the caps at the end of your chromosomes. When they degrade beyond a certain point, the cells start kicking the bucket. It’s a natural part of aging (like the grey hairs I’m getting, and my eye sight going). So I laughed, loudly, when I read this:

““I am a bit concerned about your telomeres,” the doctor told me, evenly.

Raffaele hadn’t literally seen those telomeres of mine. What he’d seen were the results of blood work carried out by a lab called Repeat Diagnostics, in Vancouver, British Columbia, which has become a leader in the burgeoning field of telomere diagnostics. Burgeoning because, as Raffaele posits, “telomeres are the new cholesterol”—by which he means they are (A) something measurable and understood to have explanatory powers and (B) something Big Pharma can aim at in the hope of finding the equivalent of a statin to make them more robust.”

This is crazy to me, and I look forward to seeing how it goes! Note, one way cancer gets around cell death after too many duplications is to elongate telomeres. Not to be paranoid, but I’ve got to think that this is not a good long term solution.


Writing to reach your audience, where ever you come from

You’re research is only as good as your ability to communicate it.

That is a sad but true statement.

Which is why this awesome initiative, (Writing Support Across Global Research Communities: A Case Study for Public Health) to increase communication is so interesting and worth examining.

Read about it here.

High detailed globe with Europe, Africa, North and South America

Defying writing conventions

“A good writer knows the conventions that their reader expects. Then they slavishly follow these conventions 95% of the time so the reader doesn’t get distracted by convention violations and instead keep their attention on what you’re trying to communicate. A good writer also occasionally and very deliberately violates these conventions as a sort of exclamation to highlight and emphasize points.”

Want to help figure out when it’s a good idea to defy and when it’s a good idea to fall in line?

Take this poll, or dread about it here.


Science editors wanted to debate #scicomm. But they attacked the messenger instead.

This is a signal boost post. Read the original medium post here, but the full letter is replicated below.

500 Women Scientists’ Leadership team sent the following Letter to the Editor to Science magazine following their recent Working Life column “Why I don’t use Instagram for outreach.”

Dear Science Editorial Board,

We’re writing to express our disappointment at poor judgment that led to the publication of publishing “Why I don’t use Instagram for outreach,” which singled out and criticized a successful woman science communicator for her Instagram presence promoting and celebrating science. Science is one of the most highly esteemed journals, yet this article reads like a smear piece worthy of a tabloid. The job of an editor is to ensure the best possible argument comes through, and there is certainly an argument to be made here. For instance, women and underrepresented minorities take on a great deal of science communication, mentorship, and outreach work without recognition or professional reward from their institutions. Though there’s an increasing institutional pressure to communicate about science — whether to increase a university’s public profile or meet NSF’s Broader Impact requirements — many institutions expect that work to be done on personal time without compensation or additional resources. While the piece hinted at these systemic issues, those arguments were undermined when the work of another woman was criticized with an unabashed tone of condescension and without an opportunity to respond.

Rather than address the roadblocks facing women and underrepresented groups in STEM or grapple with the author’s personal misgivings around science communication, the piece was framed as an attack. The tone implied that anything beyond basic research is a frivolous waste of time, belittling meaningful approaches to science communication and public engagement. It offered a false choice between an authentic and relatable social media presence and effective advocacy for institutional change. The kindest interpretation for running this article is a lack of thoughtfulness on the editor’s part. At worst, Science made the choice to run an inflammatory article for the sake of increased website traffic.

The pages of Science are meant to mark advances in scientific discovery. But pinning one woman scientist against another is destructive, irresponsible, and perpetuates unreasonable standards for women and underrepresented groups in STEM. It is antithetical to the open, accessible, and inclusive future that we at 500 Women Scientists envision for the future of science.

— 500 Women Scientists Leadership Team

The Origin of Modern Languages

“Five thousand years ago nomadic horseback riders from the Ukrainian steppe charged through Europe and parts of Asia. They brought with them a language that is the root of many of those spoken today—including English, Spanish, Hindi, Russian and Persian. That is the most widely accepted explanation for the origin of this ancient tongue, termed Proto-Indo-European (PIE). Recent genetic findings confirm this hypothesis but also raise questions about how the prehistoric language evolved and spread.”

Want to know more? Read about it here!


Trying to Fix the Gender Imbalance in Science Press

Women in science face a gauntlet of well-documented systemic biases. They face long-standing stereotypes about their intelligence and scientific acumenThey need better college grades to get the same prestige as equally skilled men, they receive less mentoring, they’re rated as less competent and less employable than equally qualified men, they’re less likely to be invited to give talks, they earn less than their male peers, and they have to deal with significant levels of harassment and abuse.

Additionally, women are literally being written out of science stories.

Read about Ed Yong’s desire to combat this pattern, and what he learned in the process, here.



Happy Birthday, Darwin! And Please Enjoy a Slice of Phylogenetic Fruit Cake.

Today is Charles Darwin’s 209th birthday.

In an earlier post, I explained how to prepare a special list of music to honor the occasion. In this playlist—a “phylogenetic playlist”—songs are named for organisms and are arranged in order to reflect the evolutionary relationships among these organisms. The Beatles’ “Blackbird,” for example, might be paired with Prince’s “When Doves Cry,” consistent with the fact that Old World blackbirds and doves diverged approximately 80 million years ago.

Music is a great way to start a celebration. But no birthday party is really complete without cake and ice cream, and I’d like to address that need today.

Let’s start with the cake.

Over the years, people have prepared many clever and beautiful cakes, framed as tributes to Darwin. One cake charts the 1831-1836 journey of the HMS Beagle, on which Darwin served as a naturalist, gathering specimens from around the world. Other cakes capture stages of human evolution, or recreate famous portraits of Darwin, or laud Darwin as a personal friend.

Any one of these cakes would make a fitting birthday centerpiece. However, in this post, I’d like to argue in favor of another possibility—something I call a “phylogenetic fruit cake.”


In a classic fruit cake—or fruitcake—fruits are mixed together randomly. In a phylogenetic fruit cake, in contrast, the arrangement of the fruits is decidedly non-random.

Much like the songs in a phylogenetic playlist, the fruits in a phylogenetic fruit cake are arranged to illustrate evolutionary relationships. Both are constructed using the same rules as a phylogenetic tree—a diagrammatic tool long favored by evolutionary biologists.

In any phylogenetic creation, species are arranged at the tips of branches. Points at which branches intersect represent common ancestors. Relative degrees of relationship—whether species A is more closely related to species B or to species C, or is equally closely related to both—can be inferred by comparing the number of shared ancestors.

Fruits are produced by flowering plants. Many species can be assigned to one of two divisions: monocots or eudicots. Within the eudicots, many fruits belong to one of two large categories: either the asterids or the rosids. Within the rosids, in turn, many fruits belong to the family Rosaceae; these include blackberries, strawberries, apples, and cherries.

These divisions reflect the species’ evolutionary histories, and can therefore be directly applied to the design of a phylogenetic fruit cake.

To build my fruit cake, I started with ten different species of fruit. (In some cases, I used slices, in other cases whole specimens.) I positioned these pieces on the upper surface of a frosted cake, with an eye to diagramming the fruits’ evolutionary histories. Write-on frosting served as my “branches.”

For example, bananas and pineapples are monocots. So, I paired the banana slice and the pineapple slice, using write-on frosting to delineate the connection. Kiwis and blueberries are asterids. So, I paired the kiwi slice and the blueberry in just the same way.

The remaining six fruits are rosids. They include grapes and oranges, in addition to the four Rosaceae species that I outlined above. In order to sort out these relationships more finely, I took advantage of divergence time estimates available at Time

Fruit Phylogeny

To tease out these relationships, I was especially reliant on Time Tree’s “Load a List of Species” option, which can be found at the bottom of the page. Here, you can upload a list of species in .txt format, and Time Tree will propose a tree.

As I positioned the fruits, I used Time Tree’s proposed tree as a model. According to Time Tree’s estimates, for example, oranges are more closely related to Rosaceae species than the grapes are, and so I positioned both accordingly. Time Tree’s estimates also led me to pair the blackberry with the strawberry slice, and the apple slice with the cherry.

My cake constitutes just one example of the form. If and when you make your own phylogenetic fruit cake, I’d encourage you to incorporate your own favorite fruits.

Whatever design you settle on, however, try to space out your fruits as evenly as possible on the cake surface. Remember: at the end of your Darwin celebration, you’ll want to cut up this cake, and distribute a slice to each of your party guests. To make this division as slick as possible, you’d ideally like to have one—and only one—piece of fruit per slice.

Here’s another pro tip: without special preservation techniques, exposed pieces of fruit will rot quickly. So you should either makes plans to finish this cake in short order (and if your party is big enough, this shouldn’t be a problem) or else be careful to refrigerate the leftovers.

Almost as essential as a birthday cake is birthday ice cream. And you can build a Darwin-worthy sundae using the very same skill set we’ve already discussed.

The example that I am presenting here contains the three basic flavors: strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla.

Ice Cream

Strawberries come from the genus Fragaria. Chocolate is produced from seeds of the plant Theobroma cacao. Both plants are eudicots. Even more specifically, both are rosids. So these two flavors are linked, using a pair of branches made of chocolate syrup.

Vanilla, however, is a derived from an orchid—a monocot. In this sundae, therefore, vanilla serves as the outgroup, and is positioned on an earlier-diverging branch.

What I’ve just described is a minimalist sundae. When you make your own sundae, I’d challenge you to incorporate some additional ice cream flavors, like pistachio, peanut butter, or peppermint.

You might also experiment with new ways to represent the branches. In my sundae, I’ve used chocolate syrup. But in your own sundae, you might try building your branches out of whipped cream or trails of sprinkles—just as you prefer.

Once the desserts are ready, it’s time to light the candles. If you’re feeling sparkly, you might position all 209 candles along the branches of your cake. (Imagine it: many lines of descent, lit up in 209 points of flame! What a gorgeous, gleaming, flickering tribute to make to the story of plant evolution! And to Darwin!) But if 209 candles feels too ambitious, you might settle for a simple “2018” candle. Or take clever advantage, somehow, of the fact that 209 can be factored into 11 and 19.

Either way, though: with the candles set, it is traditional to sing “Happy Birthday.”

To be clear: I am using the word “traditional” very loosely. Because, of course, “Happy Birthday” is anachronistic. It didn’t actually become a song until well after Darwin’s death.

Still, I think that, by now, any “true to Darwin’s time” principle has been thrown out the window.  In the playlist that I suggested previously, the oldest song was the 1967 “White Rabbit” by Jefferson Airplane. Let’s remember, too: all of the molecular data, available at Time, which was so essential in constructing these birthday creations, came well after Darwin’s time.

So, I am not personally inclined to sweat these things. I’d say: go ahead and sing, “Happy Birthday.”

On top of that: I think that the appropriation of modern birthday trappings is in many ways concordant with concepts at the heart of evolutionary biology.

The past has shaped us; the past defines us. But we live—we must—in our present environment, not in the long ago. Change happens. And the here-and-now is the only place in which we can make our way.

So, really? As long as our hearts are in the right place, I can’t imagine that Darwin would begrudge us a few modern conventions.

Ultimately, though: these are quibbles. Because at the end of everything: after all of the careful preparation, and all of the talk—and once the candles have been blown out—we come to what is arguably the very most important part.

That’s right: You get to eat it.

So, anyway: sing, or not—just as you care to. But, above all, dig in.

Because it’s going to be delicious.

Bio: Rachel Rodman has a Ph.D. in Arabidopsis genetics, and presently aspires to recontextualize all of art, literature, and popular culture in the form of a phylogenetic tree. Won’t you help her?

Atheism has a jerk problem, and so Science has an atheism problem

In a really interesting post over at small pond science, Terry McGlynn talks about the problem facing scientists of faith.

“Our scientific communities do not fully accept scientists of faith. As I’ve said before, this is a problem, and it actively hinders our efforts for equity and inclusion.

You can be a great scientist and still be religious. You can fully accept an empirical worldview for the laws and theories that govern life and matter as we know it, but also be part of a religious tradition.”

He then goes on to note that the most visible New Atheists (Bill Maher, Jerry Coyne, Michael Shermer) are loudmouth arrogant jerks. It’s how they win people over to their argument! But, by them being the face of atheism, and also associated with science, we all look like loudmouth arrogant jerks.

I’m not sure where I fall on this argument. I agree that science and faith really don’t have anything to do with one another. And I’m passionate about science communication and think that loudmouth jerks are not good ambassadors of science. But I’m not sure how to fix it, or whether or not it even needs fixing.

Read the whole blog post here, and let me know what you think!



Why birds matter, and are worth protecting

I’m always amazed by scientists who LOVE their organisms. And bird people really take this to a whole new level.

In 1918 Congress passed the Migratory Bird Treaty Act to protect birds from wanton killing. To celebrate the centennial, National Geographic is partnering with the National Audubon SocietyBirdLife International, and the Cornell Lab of Ornithology to declare 2018 the Year of the Bird.

To start the year off right, read this impassioned story by Jonathan Franzen about how much he loves birds and why.

And celebrate, the year of the bird!