Home » Biology (Page 3)
Category Archives: Biology
Willowbrook’s Hepatitis Study
By J Capone, Agriculture and Environmental Education Major, ’24
The Willowbrook State School was a housing institution created by New York State in 1947 to house intellectually disabled children and young adults. At the time, there were little to no public resources for caregivers, and state schools like Willowbrook were created to address that problem. Conditions at Willowbrook were horrific – rampant disease, neglect, and abuse meant most individuals lived sad lives on the grounds of the institution. Robert Kennedy, then-senator of New York, described it as a “snake pit” after his unplanned visit in 1965 exposed horrific conditions. Dr. Saul Krugman, a professor of epidemiology, was brought to Willowbrook in 1955 to control and mitigate the spread of infectious diseases that spread like wildfire through the halls. However, Krugman didn’t necessarily prevent the spread of disease; in some cases, explicitly encouraged it amongst residents, so he could test his theories on possible treatments. Thus, the Willowbrook Study was born.
Built on Staten Island to originally house 4,000 patients, the institution quickly swelled in population to 6,000, peaking in 1969 at 6,200 [10]. There were often not enough resources, including basic clothing and staff, to go around. Conditions at Willowbrook were grim; some 60% of patients were not toilet trained, and others could not feed or bathe themselves [9]. Abuse and neglect ran rampant, along with infectious diseases that patients suffered from due to unsanitary conditions. Facing these problems, the directors of the institution hired Dr. Saul Krugman from NYU medical school in 1955 to deal with the state of endemic diseases facing patients at Willowbrook. Dr. Krugman began by implementing an epidemiological survey to calculate the extent of the problem. These surveys discovered that children had a 1 in 2 chance of catching hepatitis in their first year at Willowbrook [6]. Further surveys showed 90% of patients had markers for hepatitis A, indicating a previous infection [6]. Hepatitis A is a disease that affects the liver, causing jaundice, loss of appetite, abdominal pain, and is usually spread via fecal to oral contamination. Dr. Krugman’s studies also discovered the strain of hepatitis B, a sexually transmitted disease that lived in both adult and child populations in Willowbrook. In an institution where over half of the population was not toilet trained with not enough caretakers to go around, it was unquestionable how hepatitis became such an intense and ingrained problem in Willowbrook’s halls [3].
Faced with these grim conditions, Dr. Krugman came to a conclusion; discovering a way to inoculate children against hepatitis would help not only those institutionalized but could reap benefits around the world. In short, he wanted to use the conditions already established at Willowbrook to create a vaccine for hepatitis. Gathering consent from parents, Dr. Krugman and his team ran several experiments to observe the benefits of gamma globulin injections, a type of antibody-containing blood plasma, from those who have recovered from hepatitis into those who have not yet been infected [1]. Some experiments exposed children to hepatitis with no administered globulin injections; others were injected and then exposed to the virus; and some were injected and were never exposed to the virus, all carefully observed by the medical team. One way the study exposed children to the hepatitis virus was by taking the feces of infected residents and combining it with chocolate milk for the study’s participants to consume unwittingly [10]. The children who participated in these studies were housed separately from the rest of the patients, in newer, cleaner facilities with round-the-clock care, while the other residents of Willowbrook still lived in squalor [6]. Krugman’s studies later encapsulated measles and rubella studies, resulting in his 20+ year stay as a medical director at Willowbrook. Only much later in his career did he receive backlash from the medical community regarding his study participants and methods.
Krugman claims he did not choose Willowbrook because he could prey on vulnerable disabled children. Instead, he argues that his experiments helped the children at Willowbrook and defended their morality and ethics until the day he died. He argued hepatitis was already rampant at Willowbrook; anyone who came to live there was bound to get it at some point. Under his lab’s controlled experiments, Dr. Krugman argued, the patients had better care and a better chance of survival than in the main facilities at Willowbrook [6]. In the study, residents had the opportunity to become immune to hepatitis without ever falling ill and facing its dangerous effects through Dr. Krugman’s experiments. Even if they did, they had access to excellent care from his team of doctors and nurses. However, Krugman missed a key component of any study’s ethical backing. Purposefully infecting children with hepatitis, no matter how “likely” it is they will get it in the future, puts them needlessly in harm’s way. No matter how well cared for the patients were, hepatitis is known to be a potentially fatal disease. Additionally, the infection method of feces-contaminated food and drink is a deplorable method that hints at possibly worse conditions of the Willowbrook study. Nobody, no matter what they’ve consented to, should be unwittingly drinking human excrement. This egregious violation of moral and ethical standards, even to professionals in the 1950s and 60s, shows how poorly these patients were treated. Every physician takes an oath to first do no harm. Dr. Krugman violated this with his treatment of intellectually disabled children at Willowbrook State School.
Other issues regarding the Willowbrook Study were the methods of informed consent. On paper, everything seemed fine. Potential patients’ parents were given a tour of the facility, allowed to ask questions to the researchers, and were given various forms of education on the purpose of the study. They met with a social worker and were allowed to discuss the study with their private doctors if they wanted to. Parents knew they could withdraw from the study at any time. No orphan or ward of the state was allowed to become a potential participant in the hepatitis studies. Dr. Krugman also asserts that their methods of informed consent were innovative, and paved the way for the standard of human experimentation. However, there is evidence to suggest that the undue influence of admittance to Willowbrook is a further kink in Krugman’s ethical armor. Willowbrook was already inundated but was one of the only state institutions for intellectually disabled children operating in New York State. Parents believed that the only way to get their child into the selective school was by allowing them to participate in the hepatitis study, as that gave them priority registration. Otherwise, these caregivers had practically no options. State institutions were some of the only interventions available at the time. Willowbrook already had a huge waitlist while operating at 1.5x capacity. Although sending your child to an overpopulated institution may not seem like the best option, sometimes it was all these families had to provide care for their loved ones. This instance of undue influence further establishes how unethical Dr. Krugman’s study was.
What brought the downfall to a 20-year study? Geraldo Rivera, an up-and-coming investigative reporter, created a documentary airing on ABC in 1972 showing the horrible abuse and neglect people at the Willowbrook State School had to endure. Willowbrook: The Last Great Disgrace led a call-to-arms from the people of Staten Island, who were horrified such an atrocity could occur on their very shores. A class-action lawsuit was filed that same year, with a final ruling that Willowbrook had to begin closing procedures in 1975. Around this time, other members of the medical field started criticizing Dr. Krugman’s studies and questioned the necessity of human experimentation for immunization studies. Dr. Krugman’s later studies developing hepatitis B vaccines using chimpanzees created conflict in the medical community, as chimpanzees are considered an acceptable model for human epidemiology studies for vaccine development, yet Krugman decided on human trials before primates. However, even after the study ended at Willowbrook, Dr, Krugman was still lauded for his advancements in the epidemiology field with not just hepatitis, but also developments of measles and rubella vaccinations later in his time at Willowbrook. Until the very end, Krugman defended his choices and decisions regarding the treatment and methods used at Willowbrook State School.
Public outrage over the conditions at Willowbrook spurred several laws and acts into being over the 70s and 80s. After the 1972 class action lawsuit was settled in 1975, the Willowbrook Consent Decree was signed, stating that the institution had to start deflating its population from around 5,000 to 250 in six years, among other reforms regarding the treatment of patients at the facility. Other acts, such as the Education for All Handicapped Children Act (1975) and the Bill of Rights Act (1975) worked to ensure disabled populations were protected in society. Other programs, such as the Protection and Advocacy System of the Developmental Disabilities Assistance were formed to further preserve the rights of disabled individuals. The Belmont Report, published in 1976, also worked to establish ethical standards regarding human experimentation revolving around their three principles: Respect of Persons, Beneficence, and Justice.
The tragedy of Willowbrook State School is a permanent mark on the scientific community’s mistreatment of human research participants. The unacceptable treatment and conditions that children and adults were forced to face while institutionalized were a disgrace to scientific research. While there have been many scientific discoveries resulting from this study, including the creation of a hepatitis A & B vaccine, the ends never justify the means in human experimentation.
A Warmer World Leading to a Health Decline
By Abigail Lin, Biological Sciences.
INTRODUCTION
Rising temperatures due to global climate change cause several detrimental impacts on the world around us. This paper will analyze the consequences of climate change, specifically temperature changes, within California. Livelihoods of farmers and fishermen, distribution of disease, and fire intensity are examples of how California is affected by this crisis. Climate change in California is especially visible because California dominates the nation’s fruit and nut production, two water-intensive crops. The state’s reliance on large quantities of water to fuel its agricultural system makes it particularly susceptible to drought. Proliferation of detrimental disease vectors, loss of beneficial crops, and elevated levels of dryness imply a complex interaction between California ecosystems and climate change.
Crops
There are many farmers and agricultural workers in California impacted by changing climates, as the state is a major agricultural hotspot. Two-thirds of the nation’s fruits and over one-third of the nation’s vegetables are produced in California [1]. Crops such as apricots, peaches, plums, and walnuts are projected to be unable to grow in 90% or more of the Central Valley by the end of the century because of the increase of disease, pests, and weeds that accompany rising temperatures [1].
Figure 1. Projection of crop failure by the end of the century. Heat increases diseases, pests, and weeds. Plum, apricot, peach and walnut crops will be unable to grow in 90% of Central Valley as a result.
Crop yields significantly decrease when heat sensitive plants are not grown in cool enough conditions. Fruits and nuts require chill hours, when the temperature is between 32 and 45 degrees Fahrenheit, to ensure adequate reproduction and development [2]. However, with increasing temperatures, crops are receiving less chill hours during the winter. California grows 98% of the country’s pistachios, but changes in chill hours have affected fertilization [3]. A study found that pistachios need 700 chill hours each winter, yet there have been less than 500 chill hours over the past four years combined [1]. As a result, in 2015, 70% of pistachio shells were missing the kernel (the edible part of the nut) that should have been inside [3].
Repeated crop failures have also left farmers mentally taxed. Evidence suggests that suicide rates for farmers are already rising in response to farm debt that accumulates in response to poor crop yields [4]. Not only is people’s financial well-being threatened by climate change, but so is their mental health. Mental stress threatens to rise as climates warm around the world, causing economic loss and upheaving agricultural careers.
Crab Fisheries
Crab fisheries and fishers in California are also negatively impacted by the rise in temperatures. Warming oceans have led to an uncontrollable growth of algal blooms, which contaminates crab meat with domoic acid, a potent neurotoxin that causes seizures and memory loss [5]. The spread of this toxin has forced many fisheries to close. California fishers lost over half the crabs they regularly catch per season, and qualified for more than 25 million dollars of federal disaster relief, during 2015 to 2016 [5]. In response to financial loss, fishers adapted by catching seafood species other than crab, moved to locations where algal blooms have not contaminated their catch, or in the worst case, stopped fishing altogether [5]. California crab fishers’ careers have already been dramatically altered by global warming, and the amount of algal blooms will only continue to increase if warming continues.
Disease
Temperature plays a major role in the prevalence of infectious diseases because it increases the activity, growth, development, and reproduction of disease vectors, living organisms that carry infectious agents and transmit them to other organisms. It is predicted that warm, humid climates will allow bacteria and viruses, mosquitoes, flies, and rats (all common disease vectors) to thrive [6]. Most animal disease vectors are r-selected, meaning they put little parental investment into individual offspring, but produce many. Warm temperatures allow r-selected species to grow quickly and reproduce often. However, warm temperatures speed up biochemical reactions and are very energy demanding on organism metabolism [7]. In response, disease vector ectotherms, organisms requiring external sources of heat for controlling body temperature, have successfully adapted to changing temperatures. These organisms thermoregulate, or carry out actions that maintain body temperature [7]. Behavioral thermoregulation has shifted the geographical distribution of infectious diseases as disease vectors move to the warm environments that they favor [7].
Initial models about the distribution and prevalence of disease suggested a net increase of the geographical range of diseases, while more recent models suggest a shift in disease distribution [7]. Recent models recognize that vector species have upper and lower temperature limits that affect disease distribution [7]. It is estimated that by 2050, there will be 23 million more cases of malaria at higher latitudes, where previously infections were nonexistent, but 25 million less cases of malaria at lower latitudes, where previously malaria proliferated rapidly through populations, because the conditions necessary for malaria transmission will shift [7].
Figure 2. Shift of malaria disease distribution by 2050. Higher latitudes will have 23 million more cases of malaria while lower latitudes will have 25 million less cases. Although habitat suitability changed, there is little net change in malaria cases.
Cases of Coccidioidomycosis (Valley fever), an infectious disease spread from inhaling Coccidioides fungal spores, have recently reached record highs in California [8]. Valley fever is especially prevalent in areas experiencing fluctuating climates, vacillating between extreme drought and high precipitation [8]. After studying 81,000 cases collected over 20 years, researchers identified that major droughts have a causal relationship with increasing Coccidioidomycosis transmission rates [8]. Initially, drought will suppress disease transmission because it prevents proliferation of the Coccidioides fungi. However, transmission rebounds in the years following drought because competing bacteria die off in high heat [8]. Fungi have a number of traits that make them more tolerable to drought compared to bacteria including osmolytes for maintaining cell volume, thick cell walls to mitigate water loss, melanin which aids in thermoregulation, and hyphae that extend throughout the soil to forage for water [9]. Disease spikes are seen after drought, such as the wet season between 2016 and 2017, which had about 2,500 more cases of Valley fever in comparison to the previous year. [8].
The role of rising temperatures in increasing Valley fever cases is evident in Kern County, one of the hottest and driest regions of California. Kern Country has the highest Valley fever incident rates in California; 3,390 cases occurred in a 47-month drought from 2012 to 2016 [8]. Kern County has many cases of Valley fever because of its drought-like conditions. As climate change pushes areas throughout California that are usually cool and wet year-round into alternating dry and wet weather conditions, Valley fever cases are projected to increase.
Fires
Climate change is also associated with an increase in fire season intensity. The Western United States experienced three years of massive wildfires from 2020 to 2022, with each year burning more than 1.2 million acres [10]. The ongoing drought has led to an accumulation of dry trees, shrubs, and grasses [10]. A 2016 study found that this increase of dry organic plant material has more than doubled the number of large fires in the Western United States since 1984 [10]. One of the ways that dry matter may ignite is by lightning. Projections show that by 2060, there will be a 30% increase of area burned by lightning-ignited wildfires compared to 2011 [10].
Residents in California are in danger of losing their lives and property to fire damage. A single fire can lead to massive destruction. In 2018, the Woolsey Fire burned 96,949 acres and hundreds of homes, and killed three people [11]. Over one million buildings in California are within high-risk fire zones, and this number is projected to increase as temperatures continue to rise [10]. With the amount of dry organic matter increasing and wildfire incidence surging, there will be more cases of property damage and loss of life in California. High temperatures and extreme weather events make it more likely that people will fall victim to these life-threatening disasters.
CONCLUSION
Increases in global temperature have a negative effect on human physical health and mental wellbeing. Climate change is making it more difficult to secure a livelihood, changing the spread of disease, and destroying lives and property. However, projections about rising temperatures allow farmers the chance to make informed decisions about which crops to grow, fishermen to relocate to areas that are less impacted by algal blooms, health experts to predict when and where outbreaks of certain diseases might occur, and fire protection services to increase their presence in high-risk areas. Projections help people predict where and when a climate change associated event is likely to occur, so that they may hopefully respond quicker and more efficiently. Consequences of climate change can be mitigated by using models as a guide for what to expect in California’s future.
REFERENCES
- James I. 2018. California agriculture faces serious threats from climate change, study finds. The Desert Sun. Accessed January 31, 2023. Available from www.desertsun.com/story/news/environment/2018/02/27/california-agriculture-faces-serious-threats-climate-change-study-finds/377289002/
- U.S. Department of Agriculture. Climate Change and WINTER CHILL. Accessed December 23, 2023. Available from www.climatehubs.usda.gov/sites/default/files/Chill%20Hours%20Ag%20FS%20_%20120620.pdf
- Zhang S. 2015. Time to Add Pistachios to California’s List of Woes. WIRED. Accessed February 15, 2023. Available from www.wired.com/2015/09/time-add-pistachios-californias-list-problems/
- Semuels A. 2019. ‘They’re Trying to Wipe Us Off the Map.’ Small American Farmers Are Nearing Extinction. TIME. Accessed January 31, 2023. Available from time.com/5736789/small-american-farmers-debt-crisis-extinction/
- Gross L. 2021. As Warming Oceans Bring Tough Times to California Crab Fishers, Scientists Say Diversifying is Key to Survival. Inside Climate News. Accessed January 31, 2023. Available from insideclimatenews.org/news/01022021/california-agriculture-crab-fishermen-climate-change/
- Martens P. 1999. How Will Climate Change Affect Human Health? The question poses a huge challenge to scientists. Yet the consequences of global warming of public health remain largely unexplored. Am Scien. 87(6):534–541.
- Lafferty KD. 2009. The ecology of climate change and infectious diseases. Ecol Soc Amer. 90(4):888-900.
- Hanson N. 2022. Climate change drives another outbreak: In California, it’s a spike in Valley fever cases. Courthouse News Service. Accessed March 8, 2023. Available from www.courthousenews.com/climate-change-drives-another-outbreak-in-california-its-a-spike-in-valley-fever-cases/
- Treseder KK, Berlemont R, Allison SD, & Martiny AC. 2018. Drought increases the frequencies of fungal functional genes related to carbon and nitrogen acquisition. PLoS ONE [Internet]. 13(11):e0206441. doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0206441
- National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. 2022. Wildfire climate connection. Accessed January 31, 2023. Available from www.noaa.gov/noaa-wildfire/wildfire-climate-connection#:~:text=Research%20shows%20that%20changes%20in,fuels%20during%20the%20fire%20season
- Lucas S. 2019. Los Angeles is the Face of Climate Change. OneZero. Accessed January 31, 2023. Available from onezero.medium.com/los-angeles-is-burning-f9fab1c212cb
Floating Photovoltaics (FPVs): Impacts on Algal Growth in Reservoir Systems
By Benjamin Narwold, Environmental Science and Management major ’23
Author’s Note: I wrote this review paper to learn more about the environmental impacts of floating photovoltaics (FPVs) because this topic directly applies to my work as an undergraduate researcher position with the Global Ecology and Sustainability Lab at UC Davis. I wanted to focus specifically on the impacts of FPV on algae because of the biological implications of disturbing ecologically important photosynthesizers in reservoirs. I want readers to develop an understanding of FPVs as a climate change mitigation solution, how these systems may disturb algae, and the uncertainties in whether expected and observed changes in algae growth are beneficial or detrimental to the aquatic environment.
ABSTRACT
Floating photovoltaics (FPVs) are typical photovoltaics mounted on plastic pontoon floats and deployed on man-made water bodies. If FPVs are developed to cover 27% of the surface area of US reservoirs, they would provide 10% of the electricity in the US. Freshwater reservoirs are host to vulnerable ecosystems; therefore, understanding the water quality impacts of FPVs is necessary for sustainable development. This review aimed to fingerprint the impacts of FPVs on reservoir aquatic ecology in terms of algal growth and identify the uncertainties in FPV-induced algae reduction to present our current understanding of the environmental impacts of reservoir-based FPVs. The UC Davis Library database was searched for papers from peer-reviewed journals published from 2018 to 2022 that covered “floating photovoltaics”, “algae reduction”, and “environmental impacts”. A consistent result across studies was that FPVs reduce algal growth by reducing the sunlight entering the host waterbody, and this can disrupt phytoplankton dynamics and have cascading effects on the broader ecosystem. Modeling and experimental approaches found that 40% coverage of the reservoir by FPVs is optimal for energy production while maintaining the necessary algae levels to support the local ecosystem. The lack of research on the ideal percent coverage of FPVs to reduce algal growth but not disrupt ecosystem dynamics emphasizes the need for future research that addresses FPV disturbance of local microclimates, algae response to reduced sunlight, and the corresponding cascading impacts on other organisms dependent on the products of algal photosynthesis.
Keywords: floating photovoltaics, algae reduction, environmental impacts, water and ecology management, energy and water nexus
Caption: Floating photovoltaic (FPV) system in Altamonte Springs, Florida. One of four sites monitored by the Global Ecology and Sustainability Lab for water quality impacts of FPV.
INTRODUCTION
Climate change is a global problem of increasing intensity and poses challenges to food, water, and energy security. Global climate models predict a 2-4°C increase in global temperatures from now until 2100, which will degrade human health and threaten ecosystems [1]. Renewable energy is a critical component of reducing anthropogenic greenhouse gas emissions, and the widespread transition away from fossil fuels is becoming increasingly feasible with new technologies. One of these new renewable energy systems is floating photovoltaics (FPVs), standard photovoltaic (solar panel) modules mounted to a polyethylene pontoon float system, positioned off the water’s surface, and anchored to the bottom or shore of the host waterbody [2]. FPVs represent an intriguing and novel renewable energy solution because they can be deployed on human-constructed water bodies and improve land-use efficiency. Ground-mounted solar projects compete for land against agricultural and urbanization interests, whereas many artificial and semi-natural water bodies, such as wastewater discharge pools, have no conflicting human interests [3]. FPV development thus presents an opportunity to sustainably increase solar energy production without interfering with agricultural and urban development, which will continue to expand as world populations increase. In addition to optimizing land use, FPVs can produce up to 22% more power than conventional solar due to evaporative cooling [4]. The solar panels are located just above the water’s surface, so the local water evaporation contributes to a reduction in solar panel temperature, thus increasing efficiency. Generating electricity using FPVs is intended to augment solar power generation capacity and supply more renewable energy to the grid for households and industry.
Among the most abundantly available space to develop this pivotal land-use optimization and climate change mitigation solution are reservoirs, lakes formed from damming a river for water storage and hydropower production. A GIS analysis found that covering 27% of the surface area of reservoirs in the United States with FPVs would generate enough electricity to meet 9.6% (2116 Gigawatts) of the country’s 2016 energy demands [4]. But reservoirs and similar bodies of water nevertheless represent vulnerable freshwater ecosystems, so developing an understanding of the water quality and species impacts of FPVs represents the primary hurdle to informing sustainable development of these systems.
FPVs reduce the amount of sunlight reaching the surface of their host waterbody, which reduces the amount of evaporative water loss and results in significant changes to algae growth [5]. Several studies have found that FPVs alter phytoplankton dynamics and can have cascading effects on the other organisms in the ecosystem [6–8]. A key agent of uncertainty surrounding reservoir FPVs is determining the equilibrium range of algal growth needed to support reservoir food webs. In some reservoir systems, we see strong summertime algal blooms. An algal bloom is a rapid increase in or overaccumulation of an algal population that can result in oxygen-depleted waterbodies called “dead zones,” where the algae eventually die and decompose [9]. FPV-induced shading can counter harmful algal blooms, providing environmental benefits to augment renewable energy generation. Alternatively, in reservoirs that do not have problematic algal blooms, adding an FPV system may reduce healthy algal populations and cause adverse rippling effects to other species in the ecosystem. Developing an understanding of what percent of the total water surface area of the reservoir covered by FPVs is enough to reduce algal growth and bloom potential but not too large to disrupt ecosystem dynamics will require further research. Specifically, assessing the disturbance of local microclimates caused by FPVs, algae response to reduced sunlight conditions, and the impact on other aquatic species dependent on the ecosystem functioning provided by algae. Due to climate change, we predict an increase in temperature and shifting precipitation patterns; therefore, it is important to contextualize the water quality impacts of FPV and its influence on algae, given this variability.
Figure 1. Impact of FPVs on algal in reservoir ecosystems. FPV-induced shading can provide additional environmental benefits in reservoirs with algal blooms and may cause adverse effects in healthy reservoirs.
Methods
This review surveys what we know regarding the impacts of FPVs on algal growth in reservoir systems. The UC Davis Library database was searched for papers from peer-reviewed journals using the following keywords: “floating photovoltaics,” “algae reduction,” and “environmental impacts.” I looked at experiments on reservoir-based FPVs from 2018-2022 to analyze plot scale impacts on algal growth, quantified with chlorophyll-a monitoring data, and assessed global-scale changes in algal growth from a climate change perspective, with consideration of FPV materials and design. Although a study on crystalline solar cells incorporated in this review is from 2016 and falls outside the 5-year range of focus, it represents a necessary juxtaposition to the semitransparent polymer cell technology. Overall, I analyzed the methods and results of site-specific, laboratory, and global-scale studies to fingerprint the current state of knowledge on the impacts of FPVs on algae and algal blooms to inform reservoir management.
Algal Growth and FPV Coverage Scenarios
Algae are responsible for producing oxygen in the waterbody, and the impact of FPVs on algae growth depends on the percentage of the waterbody covered by the FPV and is measured by looking at chlorophyll-a (ch-a) differences. Ch-a, a pigment present in all photosynthetically active algae, is often used as a proxy measurement to assess algal growth dynamics within a waterbody [10]. Ch-a is measured using optical sensors and wavelengths of light, so it is an indirect measurement of algal concentration. FPVs reduce the amount of sunlight reaching the surface of their host waterbody and disrupt phytoplankton dynamics. Hass et al. (2020) and Wang et al. (2022) investigated different FPV coverage scenarios and used ch-a as a proxy for algal growth. Hass et al. used the ELCOM-CAED model to evaluate ten different FPV coverage scenarios, and Wang et al. simulated 40% coverage relative to 0% coverage control ponds using black polyethylene weaving nets as a proxy for an FPV array. Both the model output and experiment-based approach settled on 40% FPV coverage as an equilibrium development target [7, 11]. The results of these studies show continuity; however, Hass et al. did not consider the difference in absorption wavelength range for different microalgal taxa, and Wang et al. did not use actual solar panels in their experimental design. Additionally, Andini et al. (2022) investigated the difference in algae between 0% and 100% coverage at Mahoni Lake in Indonesia by experimenting with mesocosms, isolated systems that mimic real-world environmental conditions while allowing control for biological composition by taking samples at the same water depths. These researchers found that 100% FPV coverage reduced ch-a between 0 and 1.25 mg/L, average temperature between 0 and 2.5℃, dissolved oxygen between 0 and 1.5 mg/L, and electrical conductivity categorically in the waterbody. However, the researchers only considered directly measured water quality variables and did not assess the long-term trophic consequences of 100% FPV coverage [6]. Clearly, the study was designed to show the polarity between 0% and 100% coverage in terms of several water quality parameters; however, realistic intermediate FPV coverages incorporated into both Hass et al. and Wang et al. were absent from this study. Given these compiled results, future research can continue to work toward the broader question of determining what percent FPV coverage can be applied to a reservoir to maximize energy production and minimize environmental disturbance.
Algal Blooms and Mitigation Potential
Algal blooms are a product of high productivity conditions that favor rapid algae growth, and the shading provided by FPV systems could mitigate the intensity and negative impacts of summertime algal blooms. High productivity conditions include high water temperature, intense sunlight, and abundant nutrients such as nitrogen and phosphorus. The first two variables can be controlled by FPV coverage. In a study of the global change in phytoplankton blooms since the 1980s, Ho et al. (2019) found that most of the 71 large lakes sampled saw an increase in peak summertime bloom intensity over the past three decades, and the lakes that showed improvement in bloom conditions experienced little to no warming. Temperature, precipitation, and fertilizer inputs were the considered variables, and this study could not find significant correspondence of blooms to any of these variables exclusively [12]. This insignificant result suggests a diversity of causal agents on a per-lake basis. Thus, conducting site-specific studies and monitoring these water quality variables will help establish algal bloom causation and the relative intensity of the confounding variables and, therefore, whether FPV coverage would be an effective mitigation agent. If the algae in a reservoir are linked to less-controllable variables like carbon dioxide concentration in the water or nutrient loading from agricultural runoff, FPV-shading will have a negligible effect on algae [6, 7]. Such considerations are critical to informing the potential environmental co-benefits of an FPV installation.
FPV Solar Cell Design
The properties of solar cells within the photovoltaic panels themselves are instrumental in determining what wavelengths of light interact with the surface of the host waterbody under the panels. Crystalline silicon solar cells absorb radiation wavelengths from 300-1300 nm and have a thick active layer of about 300 µm, responsible for high photon absorption [13]. These properties result in opaque solar panels that do not allow photons to travel through the panel and interact with the waterbody. Conversely, semitransparent polymer solar cells (ST-PSCs) represent an alternative material and technological approach, and algae growth can be regulated by engineering the panels to provide specific transmission windows and light intensities. Zhang et al., 2020 found that the growth rate for the algal genus Chlorella was minimized under the opaque treatment; however, the changes in photosynthetic efficiencies did not significantly affect the growth rate of Chlorella during the 24-hour experimentation window. While the researchers were able to show the variability in the number of photons penetrating the panels from 300-1000 nm across three treatments of different layering of material within the ST-PSCs, they were unable to yield a significant result in their study [5]. These results have limited scope because this study was conducted in a lab and did not assess real-sized PV panels in the field; however, it highlights how algae species may prefer different light wavelengths for photosynthesis that may be discontinuous with the wavelengths an FPV system best controls. Therefore, it is vital to coordinate solar panel material design in order to reflect and absorb the primary wavelengths that support algal photosynthesis. The viability of prioritizing this component of FPV is uncertain; however, new materials and technologies are being developed and utilized, and this relationship must be considered as we work to maximize FPV coverage in reservoir systems with minimal ecological complications (Figure 2).
Figure 2. Relationship between FPV transparency, light profiles entering the waterbody and interacting with algae, and FPV coverage optimization. Solar cell design influences light transmission, and photosynthetic rates in algae vary with light wavelength and intensity, providing site-specific design opportunities.
CONCLUSION
FPVs are relatively untapped climate change mitigation solutions and can potentially reduce algae, benefitting water quality in freshwater ecosystems and reservoirs that suffer from strong summertime algal blooms. Algae are critical primary producers in reservoir ecosystems; therefore, areas for future research include microalgae response to the reduced sunlight conditions created by FPVs and the ecological role of algal taxa within the reservoir ecosystem. Further laboratory studies of solar panel designs in this context are needed. Future research on FPVs and water quality must also account for climate change, shifting baselines, and environmental variables. From a reservoir management viewpoint, this includes studying whether reservoirs have lower nutrient loading and whether the algae can be managed with FPV arrays, fingerprinting the inter-reservoir variability to determine where we should spatially place FPV arrays and localize impacts, and further modeling the relationship between warming and algal blooms to understand the long-term effectiveness of FPV-based algae management. Climate change will continue to operate in the background, and energy security issues will intensify. Our understanding of the environmental impacts of FPVs is currently limited to the point where we cannot safely approve and construct these systems on most reservoirs; therefore, future studies are needed to incorporate this modern technology into the global renewable energy portfolio.
REFERENCES
- Ara Begum R, Lempert R, Ali E, Benjaminsen TA, Bernauer T, Cramer W,Cui X, Mach K, Nagy G, Stenseth NC, Sukumar R, Wester P. 2022. Point of Departure and Key Concepts. In: Pörtner HO, Roberts DC, Tignor M, Poloczanska ES, Mintenbeck K, Alegría A, Craig M, Langsdorf S, Löschke S, Möller V, Okem A, Rama B (eds.). Climate Change 2022: Impacts, Adaptation and Vulnerability. Contribution of Working Group II to the Sixth Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Cambridge (UK) and New York (NY): Cambridge University Press. 121–196. doi:10.1017/9781009325844.003.
- Energy Sector Management Assistance Program, Solar Energy Research Institute of Singapore. 2019. Where Sun Meets Water: Floating Solar Handbook for Practitioners. Washington, DC (USA): World Bank.
- Cagle AE, Armstrong A, Exley G, Grodsky SM, Macknick J, Sherwin J, Hernandez RR. 2020. The Land Sparing, Water Surface Use Efficiency, and Water Surface Transformation of Floating Photovoltaic Solar Energy Installations. Sustainability [Internet]. 12(19):8154. doi:10.3390/su12198154
- Spencer RS, Macknick J, Aznar A, Warren A, Reese MO. 2019. Floating Photovoltaic Systems: Assessing the Technical Potential of Photovoltaic Systems on Man-Made Water Bodies in the Continental United States. Environ Sci Technol [Internet]. 53(3):1680–1689. doi:10.1021/acs.est.8b04735
- Zhang N, Jiang T, Guo C, Qiao L, Ji Q, Yin L, Yu L, Murto P, Xu X. 2020. High-performance semitransparent polymer solar cells floating on water: Rational analysis of power generation, water evaporation and algal growth. Nano Energy [Internet]. 77:105111. doi:10.1016/j.nanoen.2020.105111
- Andini S, Suwartha N, Setiawan EA, Ma’arif S. 2022. Analysis of Biological, Chemical, and Physical Parameters to Evaluate the Effect of Floating Solar PV in Mahoni Lake, Depok, Indonesia: Mesocosm Experiment Study. J Ecol Eng [Internet]. 23(4):201–207. doi:10.12911/22998993/146385
- Haas J, Khalighi J, de la Fuente A, Gerbersdorf SU, Nowak W, Chen PJ. 2020. Floating photovoltaic plants: Ecological impacts versus hydropower operation flexibility. Energy Conversion and Management. Energy Convers Manag [Internet]. 206:112414. doi:10.1016/j.enconman.2019.112414
- Pimentel Da Silva GD, Branco DAC. 2018. Is floating photovoltaic better than conventional photovoltaic? Assessing environmental impacts. Impact Assess [Internet]. 36(5):390–400. doi:10.1080/14615517.2018.1477498
- Sellner KG, Doucette GJ, Kirkpatrick GJ. 2003. Harmful algal blooms: causes, impacts and detection. J Ind Microbiol Biotechnol [Internet]. 30(7):383–406. doi:10.1007/s10295-003-0074-9
- Pápista É, Ács É, Böddi B. 2002. Chlorophyll-a determination with ethanol – a critical test. Hydrobiologia [Internet]. 485(1):191–198. doi:10.1023/A:1021329602685
- Wang TW, Chang PH, Huang YS, Lin TS, Yang SD, Yeh SL, Tung CH, Kuo SR, Lai HT, Chen CC. 2022. Effects of floating photovoltaic systems on water quality of aquaculture ponds. Aquac Res [Internet]. 53(4):1304–1315. doi:10.1111/are.15665
- Ho JC, Michalak AM, Pahlevan N. 2019. Widespread global increase in intense lake phytoplankton blooms since the 1980s. Nature [Internet]. 574(7780):667–670. doi:10.1038/s41586-019-1648-7
- Battaglia C, Cuevas A, De Wolf S. 2016. High-efficiency crystalline silicon solar cells: status and perspectives. Energy Environ Sci [Internet]. 9(5):1552–1576. doi:10.1039/C5EE03380B
How does prenatal nicotine exposure increase the chance of a child developing asthma?
By Madhulika Appajodu, Cell Biology ’24
Author’s Note: My name is Madhulika Appajodu and I am a 3rd Year Cell Biology major at UC Davis. I am a pre-medical student and hope to go on to medical school. I chose Cell Biology as a major because I found the focus on cell organization and function to be very interesting. I am a volunteer at Shifa Community Clinic and a member of MEDLIFE, SEND4C, and H4H. I am also a BioLaunch Mentor and a Learning Assistant for the Physics Department. I wrote this piece to answer the question: “How does prenatal nicotine exposure increase the risk of asthma in offspring?” I wrote this for undergraduate students in the field of epigenetics/prenatal exposures and experts/professors in the field but also for the general public who have some knowledge in science. I chose this topic in particular because epigenetics interests me greatly. I find that environmental factors likely play a large part in the life outcomes of people who may be genetically similar but grew up in different environments. I hope that readers will understand how important environmental factors are in the grand scheme of physical, emotional, and mental health for not just the reader but their future families (if they choose to have them) health as well.
ABSTRACT:
Previous studies have studied prenatal nicotine exposure and its effects which follow offspring over the course of their lives. One of these effects is asthma. Asthma is a chronic respiratory condition characterized by the narrowing of one’s airways in response to an allergen or irritant. It is a widespread condition, affecting over 25 million people currently in the US alone. The mechanisms of asthma and its causes are currently being investigated. However, researchers agree that prenatal nicotine exposure increases the risk of asthma in offspring exponentially.
There is currently no cure for asthma, only methods to lessen the intensity of asthmatic episodes, such as through the use of an inhaler. This literature review details the mechanisms through which prenatal nicotine exposure increases the risk of asthma in offspring, according to current research. The three potential causes of this increased risk are placental damage, epigenetic alteration, and nicotine exposure alone. The mechanisms will be evaluated through a synthesis of experimental and survey data in mice and human models in studies done in the past seven years. Comparisons will be drawn between articles that cite the same mechanism as the cause of the increased risk of asthma. Once the mechanism(s) are identified, research can be done to identify a solution so asthma due to prenatal nicotine exposure can be prevented.
INTRODUCTION
In the United States, approximately 25 million people are currently diagnosed with asthma [1]. Asthma is a respiratory condition characterized by difficulty breathing due to narrowing airways, caused by inflammation and excess mucus production. This inflammatory response is often triggered by viruses or air-borne allergens. Researchers are currently investigating the underlying immune mechanisms that cause the intense inflammatory response, which is often more intense when someone has been subjected to risk factors such as prenatal nicotine exposure. Since there is currently no cure for asthma, research about the underlying mechanisms of the inflammatory response is vital so that asthma can be prevented rather than simply managed.
Researchers have studied prenatal nicotine exposure and its effects on offspring for decades, focusing on human subjects who smoked while pregnant. Over the past thirty years, there has been a shift toward using animal trials to investigate the mechanisms associated with the risk factors for asthma.
The primary model in asthma research in mice is the house dust mite (HDM) model. The HDM model involves exposing one group of pregnant mice to tobacco smoke-infused air and another group of pregnant mice to filtered air. The offspring of both groups are exposed to house dust mites– a common allergen– and their inflammatory immune response is examined. There are variations to the model, such as exposing the fathers to nicotine prior to mating or exposing the female mice to nicotine prior to or during pregnancy.
Current literature cites three main factors that contribute to an increased risk of asthma: nicotine smoke exposure alone, placental damage induced by nicotine, and epigenetic alterations induced by nicotine. Nicotine passes from the mother’s blood to the fetus through the umbilical cord during pregnancy. Nicotine can also damage the placenta through vasoconstriction of blood vessels and alter the fetus’ epigenetic markers through DNA methylation.
The purpose of this literature review is to examine precisely how prenatal nicotine exposure increases the risk of asthma, first in experimental data using the HDM model and then in experimental & survey data regarding humans.
Prenatal Nicotine Smoke Exposure
In 2015, Eyring et al proposed that nicotine use in pregnant women increased the risk of asthma in offspring through epigenetic alterations [2]. Eyring et al exposed one group of female mice to tobacco infused smoke (ETS) for five weeks and mated them to male mice and examined the offspring. The pregnant female mice were then exposed to ETS until they gave birth. There was also a control group of female mice exposed to filtered air and mated to male mice. The offspring of the ETS exposed group did display an increased inflammatory response when exposed to house dust mites compared to the control group. However, the level of DNA expression of both groups were not statistically different. Thus, Eyring et al. came to the conclusion that prenatal nicotine exposure can cause an increased risk of asthma in offspring, but was unable to identify the mechanism through which prenatal ETS causes an increased inflammatory response [2]. It is possible that the Bisulfite sequencing equipment at the time of Eyring et al.’s study was not sensitive enough to detect the difference in methylation that newer studies observed.
Figure 1. Expression levels of IL-5 (Th2 cytokine producing protein) are the same for the CS (ETS exposed group) and FA (filtered air group) mice when exposed to house dust mites (HDM). This indicated that the gene expression levels were not affected by ETS.
A three-generation survey study on human subjects found a correlation between maternal smoking and the increased risk of asthma in offspring, as well as a correlation between grandmothers smoking during pregnancy and their grandchildren having an increased risk of asthma, regardless of the intermediate generation’s smoking habits [3]. The researchers also found a correlation between paternal smoking and an increased risk of asthma in the offspring [3]. They have hypothesized that paternal smoking causes altered microRNA (miRNA) in the sperm. MiRNA is a nucleic acid that regulates expression of genes. During fertilization, this altered miRNA can change the gene expression of the progeny, increasing the risk of asthma in the offspring. The conclusion of this study is that maternal, paternal, and grandmaternal nicotine exposure is correlated with an increased risk of asthma in offspring. The researchers also proposed epigenetic alteration as the mechanism of increased asthma risk, but due to the nature of the study, they were unable to confirm this hypothesis [3].
Placental Damage
A survey of mothers who smoked and mothers who did not smoke by Zacharasiewicz et al. concluded that prenatal exposure to nicotine causes placental damage by decreasing nutrient delivery to the fetus [4]. Prenatal nicotine exposure decreases alveolar surface area, thereby decreasing the tidal volume of fetal lungs after birth [5]. Tidal volume is the amount of air that enters the lungs per breath. A decreased tidal volume results in less oxygen entering the body under standard conditions and a vastly reduced amount of oxygen entering the body when exposed to an allergen. Placental damage also results in the increased aging of the fetus’ lungs as pulmonary cells perform less glycogenolysis and glycolysis, causing cells to die prematurely [6]. The premature death of lung cells means the lungs are weaker, unable to exchange a normal amount of oxygen, and therefore more prone to intense allergic reactions.
Similarly, a study by Cahill et al. using the HDM mice model found that inhaling nicotine causes vasoconstriction– the narrowing of blood vessels– in the mother, resulting in less oxygen and nutrients delivered to the fetus [7]. They also found that placental HSD2 (a crucial enzyme in fetal development) is decreased when pregnant mothers are exposed to nicotine. Cahill et al also observed placental damage from nicotine use which resulted in decreased birth weights and lung size in fetuses [7]. Decreased lung size leads to intense asthmatic episodes because the airways are smaller and narrower than the airways of an individual not exposed to nicotine prenatally. Ultimately, Zacharasiewicz and Cahill came to the same conclusion that nicotine consumption or exposure in pregnant women increases the risk of asthma in their offspring by negatively affecting the offspring’s lungs [4,7].
Epigenetic Alteration
Researchers agree that DNA methylation is the one of the mechanisms leading to an increased asthma risk [8]. DNA methylation, the primary form of epigenetic alteration that occurs when a fetus is exposed to nicotine, is a chemical reaction where a methyl (-CH3) group is added to a cytosine base. This methyl group prevents transcription factors from binding to DNA and recruiting repression proteins, resulting in underexpressed genes, which in this case is a disproportionate inflammatory response. However, there is disagreement among researchers about which genes are being alternatively methylated. Christensen et al. conducted an HDM mouse study and found that methylation of genes which produce and regulate Th2 cytokines was decreased in the offspring of mothers exposed to ETS [9]. Cytokines are small proteins that regulate the immune response; Th2 cells produce cytokines that encourage inflammation. Thus the increased expression of Th2 intensifies the inflammatory response that occurs in response to the asthma trigger of house dust mites. Christensen et al. found that Th1 cytokine levels remained constant and methylation was unaffected [9].
Conversely, Singh et al. found that Th1 cytokine levels decreased due to hypermethylation [10]. Singh et al. did also find that Th2 cytokine levels increased due to hypomethylation, which concurs with the findings of Christensen et al [9-10].
Figure 2. Expression levels of IL-3 (Th2 producing gene) in the groups that were exposed to tobacco infused smoke (SS) or filtered air (FA). There is a statistically significant increase in expression in the SS group indicating a decrease in methylation.
Christensen et al. exposed pregnant female mice to either tobacco smoke-infused air or filtered air and then examined the offspring [9]. Singh et al. exposed both male and female mice to tobacco smoke-infused air or filtered air prior to mating and then examined the offspring [10]. This variation in experimental methods could contribute to the difference seen in the methylation of Th1 cytokine-producing genes. However, both researchers concluded that the nicotine-induced DNA methylation levels changed in genes that produced inflammatory responses to allergens [9-10].
Zakarya et al. found that DNA methylation levels were altered in genes associated with fetal growth and nicotine detoxification [11]. This review examined epigenome-wide association studies (EWAS) on patients suffering from asthma whose mothers smoked or vaped during pregnancy. These studies showed increased methylation in placental, whole blood, and fetal lung genes [12]. These results differed from the research done by Singh et al. and Christensen et al. both in the affected genes and the way that methylation was altered [9-10]. The difference in results can be attributed to the difference between mice and humans as well as the variation in experimental design. Christensen and Singh used the HDM model on mice and controlled the levels of nicotine the mice were exposed to [9-10]. Zakarya et al. used data from children of women who reported smoking during pregnancy [11]. The levels of nicotine that the subjects were exposed to was not controlled and varied greatly. These differences between the studied species and experimental design could explain the different conclusions that the researchers drew.
CONCLUSION
There is not a simple answer about the mechanism by which nicotine use during pregnancy increases the risk of asthma in offspring. However, both epigenetic alterations and placental damage due to nicotine exposure play a role in increased asthma risk.
Research citing nicotine-induced epigenetic alteration as the main cause of the increased risk of asthma identifies various genes being altered by DNA methylation. The HDM studies cited in this review conclude that genes producing cytokines had a decrease in methylation, while a study using human subjects concluded that genes involving fetal growth and nicotine detoxification had an increase in methylation. Further research should determine which altered genes are increasing the risk of asthma so that methylation can be induced or repressed in those genes as a preventive measure for asthma. Further research should also focus on which aspect of nicotine-induced placental damage is the biggest factor in the increased risk of asthma so that a solution can be found to address that aspect.
Future research studies should continue to investigate the two presented mechanisms and identify the factors that are increasing the risk of asthma so that nicotine-induced asthma can be prevented in future generations.
Your genes and you: Examining the effect of direct-to-consumer genetic testing visualizations on conceptions of identity
By Adyasha Padhi, Biochemistry & Molecular Biology and Sociocultural Anthropology ’25
Author’s Note: I wrote this paper for my ANT 109: Visualization in Science Course and we chose a specific visualization and entity connected to it to focus on. 23&Me has always been a company that has interested me and in looking deeper into their business practices, I think that it’s really important that we consider how our identities and our perception of our identity has changed, especially in the 21st century.
Introduction
In recent years, direct-to-consumer (DTC) genetic testing has become widespread, and with it, consumers have had more access to our genetic code than ever before in human history. More than 26 million people—roughly 8% of the US population—have taken at-home DNA tests and as a multi-billion dollar industry, the DTC market is rapidly becoming more widespread. 23&Me, a personal genomics and biotech company based in California, was the first company to begin offering autosomal genetic testing for ancestry, and remains a giant in the field, becoming near ubiquitous in the market of DTC and the minds of many consumers.
23&Me, as they say on their website, aims to provide its customers “DNA testing with the most comprehensive DNA breakdown,” allowing them to “know [their] personal story, in a whole new way.” For consumers who are typically not geneticists themselves, this analysis and breakdown of their DNA is what they are primarily looking for, expecting to receive information on what their genes mean from their ancestry to health. The interpretation and visualization of DNA test results are what nearly all companies operate as their main product and selling point, more specifically, the idea that they can provide the consumer with a way to know themselves better and understand their ancestry and family history on a deeper level.
Because of this, the way that companies create and present this genetic information is paramount to understanding the ways that DTC impacts consumers and the wider society’s conception of ancestry and identity. This review will look at a specific case study of 23&Me’s “Ancestry Composition” visualization, looking into how it is created, interacted with, and what it communicates about ancestry and identity, examining the broader impact of quantitative tools on personal/community identity and how the way our genes impact us on both a biological level and on how our understanding of genes and genetics influences the way that we move through the world.
23&Me’s “Ancestry Composition” Visualization:
Figure 1: A sample “Ancestry Composition” report from 23&Me’s website
23&Me’s “Ancestry Composition” visualization is typical of similar genetic ancestry results in the field and is composed of 3 main parts: a pie-chart representing the consumer’s percent ancestry, a list breaking down those percentages by world region, then by ethnicity or nationality country/ethnic group, and then a map that illustrates the different regions of the world in different colors depending on the ancestry found. This iconography dominates most visual communication about ancestry in this day and age with the rise of DTC.
First, it is important to understand what DNA is. Deoxyribonucleic acid, or DNA for short, is a complex molecule that contains genetic information for the development and functioning of an organism, acting as the hereditary material in nearly all organisms through sequences of nucleotides. DNA in a sense acts as the blueprint that an organism’s cells use to create more cells, growing from a single cell to a fetus and eventually a full human being. As hereditary material, genes are passed from parents to their biological offspring and the complete set of genes or genetic material present in a cell or organism is known as the genome, with genes being organized into chromosomes. DNA that codes for functional molecules called proteins is the most commonly known, however, so-called coding DNA only makes up a tiny percentage of the total genome, only about 1-5%, with the rest composed of non-coding regions. In addition, genetic material is constantly changing through not only mutations but also epigenetic changes. These modify chemical marks on the DNA called the epigenome and change how genes are expressed, and consequently the phenotype of a person, without altering the genetic sequence itself. In some cases, epigenetic changes can be inherited such as through the germ-line transmission of altered epigenomes between generations in the absence of continued environmental exposures (Nilsson 2015). As such, analyzing and drawing conclusions from DNA is a complex process and is not as simple as it may seem.
23&Me goes through a process to take the DNA sample that the consumer provides into a visualization that is accessible to the consumer, translating DNA into ancestry information that they can understand. 23&Me specifically analyzes your DNA by looking for specific genetic variants across your entire genome including autosomal DNA, sex chromosomes, and mitochondrial DNA (mtDNA). The locations in the genome that vary from person to person are called single nucleotide polymorphisms (SNPs for short), with different versions of SNPs called alleles. Everyone carries two alleles at most SNPs, one allele from each parent, and while each single-nucleotide polymorphism only contains a small amount of information, by combining events across many SNPs, their algorithm can develop a picture of your genetic ancestry. It is not the SNPs themselves, but instead their variation over time in populations that can be used to map human migration, isolation, and population development (Henn 2012). As such, ethnicities can’t be determined simply by single genes.
There are six main steps that 23&Me goes through when determining ancestry composition and creating this visualization: preparing for genotyping (amplifying the DNA from the provided sample), training the artificial intelligence algorithms using reference data sets, phasing and determining which genetic information was inherited together on the same chromosome, estimating ancestry for each window of the genome, smoothing window assignments (making adjustments so that the result is more cohesive and understandable), and calibrating and returning the results to the individual in the form of the “Ancestry Composition” visualization (Durand 2021).
Social context of direct-to-consumer genetic ancestry tests
DTC genetic testing addresses a series of existing social desires with new technological means, particularly combining the modern enthusiasm for science with primal interests in asserting the “natural” of one’s identity and postmodern emphasis on radical individualism (Lang and Winkler 2021). Being just among the latest of ways that we as humans have tried to understand our relationships with others, looking into its history can lend insight into the practice in its current form. Throughout history, ancestry has been used to solidify relations and thus power in many societies, such as hierarchical monarchies or caste systems (Lang and Winkler 2021). Biological relations allow membership into communities and into structures of power, so being able to prove ancestry and have a record of ancestry in some way has been important. Fundamentally, as humans, we have always been trying to make sense of ourselves and the world around us.
However, with this desire to organize the world, structures of power and groups who want power arise; the easiest way to gain power is by dividing people up and creating hierarchies. This is where movements such as racism, eugenics, and other movements serve as justification for dehumanization and violence, creating system-driven violence that cannot be easily dismantled as the violence is no longer individual-to-individual but part of a wider pattern of systemic violence. This includes historical slavery, colonialism, and recent racially motivated violence.
Impact of DTC on the social construction of Ancestry & Identity
To understand the impact of DTC on consumer identity, we can start by examining the sociotechnical architecture of 23&Me. The products and visualizations created by DTC companies are often structured in such a way that the user is not provided with sufficient context to understand the results that they receive. As seen in the sample results, there is limited information provided on the most prominent consumer-facing pages, with the results pages primarily showing simply a percentage of the consumer’s DNA associated with a certain heritage. This can be attributed in part to the sociotechnical architecture of 23&Me’s consumer-facing information architecture and UX design more generally. In a similar way that a building’s architecture is an organization of materials and components that together define the building, the sociotechnical architecture of the technology explores how the way that a technology’s technical aspects (its physical system and the task it aims to do) interacts with the social aspects (the structure and organization and how it impacts people cognitively and socially).
While they do disclose the difficulty with quantifying ancestry, their marketing and product presentation do not do enough to recognize the broader socio-cultural and historical context of which they are a part of. Furthermore, compared to similar companies, 23&Me provides as much raw information to its consumers as possible and builds off the idea that a user possesses the expertise and autonomy to determine the reliability/utility of test results presented to them. This absolves them from the responsibility of misinterpretation, which downplays the difficulty of understanding SNP test results (Parthasarathy 2010). As a whole, by presenting the consumer’s results in a very quantitative manner, and pushing these ideas in their marketing while not providing much information in an accessible way near these results, 23&Me’s products can push onto its customers a genetic essentialist bias, cognitive biases arising from exposure to beliefs that genes are relevant for behavior, condition, and social grouping (Dar-Nimrod & Heine 2011). This leads to the erroneous perception that conditions associated with genetic attributions are more immutable, determined, homogenous, and natural.
Another core aspect of this process is its pool of reference genotypes that are used at multiple points throughout the process of visualization production. The groups that are most represented in these reference genotypes are people of European ancestry (Wapner 2020). This is for a range of reasons, one being structures of power that have allowed those populations to have access to those resources and thus their ancestry records and methods of ancestry remembrance preserved. The data and information that these tests provide is not trivial, especially when it comes to 23&Me’s other half, health genetic testing. Therefore, marginalized groups should have more accessibility, representation, and thus accurate utilization of these tools, though it is also important to recognize the flaws in this system and not blindly encourage individuals to seek out giving their data to these companies without understanding the full picture. There are also no genes specifically associated with specific ethnic groups.
More broadly, research investigating the impact of genetic ancestry tests on racial essentialism found that while there was no significant average effect of genetic testing on views of racial essentialism, there were significant differences between individuals with high genetic knowledge versus individuals with the least genetic knowledge. Roth found that “essentialist beliefs significantly declined after testing among individuals with high genetic knowledge, but increased among those with the least genetic knowledge”, and also found that this trend was not impacted by the specific genetic ancestry found, demonstrating that this difference was due to different understanding of genetics (Roth 2020). Recognizing that those who have the least genetic knowledge are those who are most likely to develop essentialist beliefs demonstrates how important it is that education about the process behind genetic testing and how the results are generated is easily accessible and should be more prominent in DTC companies’ products and marketing.
Conclusion
As direct-to-consumer genetic testing becomes more and more prevalent, it is impacting the way that we communicate about and conceptualize ancestry, promoting the construction of essentialist identities through the process of DTC genetic ancestry testing, from the marketing to the final visualization. The impacts of this push disproportionately affect individuals of marginalized communities within wider society and increased education about genetics and how these systems work is essential to combating essentialism, both within the companies themselves and the wider society.
Works Referenced
News Articles:
- Bahrampour, Tara. “They considered themselves white, but DNA tests told a more complex story.” The Washington Post, 6 February 2018, https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/social-issues/they-considered-themselves-white-but-dna-tests-told-a-more-complex-story/2018/02/06/16215d1a-e181-11e7-8679-a9728984779c_story.html.
- Brown, Kristen V. “23andMe to Use DNA Tests to Make Cancer Drugs.” Bloomberg.com, 4 November 2021, https://www.bloomberg.com/news/features/2021-11-04/23andme-to-use-dna-tests-to-make-cancer-drugs
- Copeland, Libby. “Opinion | DNA and Race: What Ancestry and 23andMe Reveal.” The New York Times, 16 February 2021, https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/16/opinion/23andme-ancestry-race.html.
- Molla, Rani. “What 23andMe and other genetic testing tools can do with your data.” Vox, 13 December 2019, https://www.vox.com/recode/2019/12/13/20978024/genetic-testing-dna-consequences-23andme-ancestry.
- Pomerantz, Dorothy. “23andMe had devastating news about my health. I wish a person had delivered it.” STAT News, 8 August 2019, https://www.statnews.com/2019/08/08/23andme-genetic-test-revealed-high-cancer-risk/.
- Servick, Kelly. “Frustrated U.S. FDA Issues Warning to 23andMe.” Science Insider, 25 November 2013, https://www.science.org/content/article/frustrated-us-fda-issues-warning-23andme.
Scientific Articles:
- Bryc, Katazyna, et al. “The Genetic Ancestry of African Americans, Latinos, and European Americans across the United States.” AJHG, vol. 96, no. 1, 2015, pp. 37-53, https://www.cell.com/ajhg/fulltext/S0002-9297(14)00476-5.
- Durand, Eric Y., et al. “Ancestry Composition: A Novel, Efficient Pipeline for Ancestry Deconvolution.” bioRxiv, 2014, https://www.biorxiv.org/content/biorxiv/early/2014/10/18/010512.full.pdf.
- Durand, Eric Y., et al. “Reducing Pervasive False-Positive Identical-by-Descent Segments Detected by Large-Scale Pedigree Analysis.” Molecular Biology & Evolution, vol. 31, no. 8, 2014, pp. 2212-2222, https://academic.oup.com/mbe/article/31/8/2212/2925728.
- Durand, Eric Y., et al. “A scalable pipeline for local ancestry inference using tens of thousands of reference haplotypes.” bioRxiv, 2021, https://www.biorxiv.org/content/10.1101/2021.01.19.427308v1.
- Henn, Brenna M., et al. “Cryptic Distant Relatives Are Common in Both Isolated and Cosmopolitan Genetic Samples.” Plos One, 2012, https://journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=10.1371/journal.pone.0034267.
- Henn, Brenna M., et al. “Hunter-gatherer genomic diversity suggests a southern African origin for modern humans.” PNAS, vol. 108, no. 13, 2011, pp. 5154-5162, https://www.pnas.org/doi/full/10.1073/pnas.1017511108.
- Kim, Soyeon, et al. “Shared genetic architectures of subjective well-being in East Asian and European ancestry populations.” Natural Human Behavior, 2022, https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/35589828/#affiliation-1.
Documentaries:
- DNA Testing: The Promise & the Peril. Performance by Scott Wapner, 2020, https://www.peacocktv.com/watch/asset/tv/dna-testing-the-promise-and-the-peril/55fc9111-fb6e-399f-a921-5c036dfe54f3?orig_ref=https://www.google.com/.
- “Identity | Tribeca.” Tribeca Film Festival, https://tribecafilm.com/studios/identity-short-film-series.
- Gray, Edward. “Secrets in our DNA | NOVA.” PBS, 13 January 2021, https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/video/secrets-in-our-dna/.
STS Articles:
- Abel, Sarah. “Reading DNA ancestry portraits against the grain.” Slaveries and Post-Slaveries, 2020, https://journals.openedition.org/slaveries/2343.
- Boas, Franz. “The Race Problem in Modern Society.” 1909, https://www.jstor.org/stable/1634659#metadata_info_tab_contents.
- Dar-Nimrod, Ilan, and Steven J. Heine. “Genetic Essentialism: On the Deceptive Determinism of DNA.” Psychol Bull., 2011. https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3394457/.
- Duello, Theresa M. “Race and genetics versus ‘race’ in genetics – PMC.” NCBI, https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC8604262/.
- Gelman, Susan A. “Essentialism in everyday thought.” Psychological Science Agenda, 2005. American Psychological Association, https://www.apa.org/science/about/psa/2005/05/gelman.
- Heine, Steven J., et al. “Making Sense of Genetics: The Problem of Essentialism.” Genetic Essentialism and Its Vicissitudes, 2019, https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1002/hast.1013.
- Lang, Alexander, and Florian Winkler. “Co-constructing ancestry through direct-to-consumer genetic testing.” https://irihs.ihs.ac.at/id/eprint/5817/1/Lang-Winkler-2021-co-constructing-ancestry-through-direct-to-consumer-genetic-testing.pdf.
- Montagu, MF Ashely. “THE CONCEPT OF RACE IN THE HUMAN SPECIES IN THE LIGHT OF GENETICS.” Journal of Heredity, Journal of Heredity, https://academic.oup.com/jhered/article-abstract/32/8/243/817951.
- Oh, Jeongmin, and Uichin Lee. “Exploring UX issues in Quantified Self technologies.” IEEE, https://ieeexplore.ieee.org/document/7061028.
- Parthasarathy, Shobita. “Assessing the social impact of direct-to-consumer genetic testing: Understanding socio-technical architectures.” Genetics in Medicine, vol. 12, 2010, pp. 544–547, https://www.nature.com/articles/gim201090.
- Prainsack, Barbara. “Understanding Participation: The ‘Citizen Science’ of Genetics | 17 |.” Taylor & Francis eBooks, 2014, https://www.taylorfrancis.com/chapters/edit/10.4324/9781315584300-17/understanding-participation-citizen-science-genetics-barbara-prainsack.
- Templeton, Alan R. “Biological Races in Humans – PMC.” NCBI, 16 May 2013, https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3737365/.
- Roth, Wendy D., et al. “Do genetic ancestry tests increase racial essentialism? Findings from a randomized controlled trial.” Edited by Mellissa H. WithersDo genetic ancestry tests increase racial essentialism? Findings from a randomized controlled trial. PLoS One, 2020, https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6988910/.
- Swan, Melanie. “The Quantified Self: Fundamental Disruption in Big Data Science and Biological Discovery.” Big Data, vol. 1, no. 2, 2013, https://www.liebertpub.com/doi/10.1089/big.2012.0002.
Miscellaneous:
- “The 23andMe Ancestry Algorithm Gets an Upgrade.” WP Engine, https://blog.23andme.com/articles/algorithm-gets-an-upgrade.
- “Ancestry Composition.” 23andMe, https://www.23andme.com/ancestry-composition-guide/
- “Understanding The Difference Between Your Ancestry Percentages And Your Genetic Groups.” 23andMe Customer Care, https://customercare.23andme.com/hc/en-us/articles/5328923468183-Understanding-The-Difference-Between-Your-Ancestry-Percentages-And-Your-Genetic-Groups.
Current threats to the Greater Everglades Ecosystem by invasive Burmese pythons
By Jessica Baggott, Evolution Ecology and Biodiversity Major, Professional Writing Minor, ’23
Author’s note: I wrote this piece in the Spring Quarter of 2022 for UWP 102B, Writing in the Disciplines: Biology. I wrote this piece partially because I have always fostered an interest in invasive species — how they enter, alter, and succeed in ecosystems. And, how we as scientists and policymakers address these threats to native ecosystems. I was also compelled to write this review because of the abundance of recent literature and the lack of another review, to my knowledge, that covered the same topics as I intended to.
I hope that readers walk away from this piece with a greater understanding of the Burmese python in the Florida Everglades — their invasion, success, and alterations to a fragile and precious ecosystem. I wish for readers to recognize the connections that I have made, combing through the literature, and I wish for them to make their own connections, too. There is no greater gift than your engagement with my work.
INTRODUCTION
Southern Florida’s Greater Everglades Ecosystem (GEE) once included over 8 million acres of 0.5-2.0 foot deep wetland from the Kissimmee Chain of Lakes just south of Orlando to the southern tip of Florida Bay [1]. Now, the GEE is estimated to be half of its historical size and is fragmented into various national, state, regional, and local parks as well as more than 12 wildlife refuges and marine preserves [2, 3, 4]. Everglades National Park (ENP), one of the federally protected regions of the GEE, only includes 1.5 million acres of this vast ecosystem [5]. However, even within the protected region of ENP, canals, pump stations, and roads have been constructed to increase human accessibility to the Everglades, severely altering precise hydrological processes [1, 6]. These hydrological alterations, encroaching human settlements, degraded water quality, anthropogenic climate change, and the introduction of invasive species all pose significant threats to the GEE, and work in conjunction to increase negative effects on the GEE [4].
Perhaps the most infamous invasive species in the U.S., the Burmese python is the most well known threat to the GEE (Python molurus bivittatus). The snakes’ long lifespan, high fecundity or ability to produce offspring, as well as their generalist lifestyle which allows them to adapt their behavior and dietary habits to their environment, has allowed a small number of pythons to establish and thrive in the GEE [7]. Currently, Burmese pythons are drastically altering trophic structures as well as introducing and transmitting disease in the GEE. Furthermore, Burmese pythons have and have the potential to extend their range northward, putting other ecosystems and species at risk. A comprehensive literature review is required to inform policy decisions and assess the risk posed by Burmese pythons beyond the GEE.
Background
Native to Southeast Asia, the Burmese python was introduced into the GEE in the 1980s during a boom in the exotic pet trade and the subsequent release of the snakes into the Everglades by owners [7]. Since being first recognized in ENP in 2000, the invasive range of the Burmese python has rapidly expanded to the entirety of ENP and much of Big Cypress National Preserve [8]. However, population estimates have been hindered by the combination of cryptic python behavior (including long periods of inactivity), excellent natural camouflage, and human park management goals that include the removal of every python encountered without necessarily documenting the removed numbers [9]. These factors have caused extremely low python detection probabilities, ranging from 0.0001 to 0.0146 using visual surveys and radio transmitters [9]. Given low detection probability, population estimates range from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands [9, 10]. Better population estimates are required for effective management strategies and to monitor changing populations of pythons [9].
Northward Range Expansion
Burmese pythons exhibit seasonal habitat preference, primarily choosing covered habitats close to water, though recent studies have found evidence that they may also be attracted to human development [11-17]. Smith et al. (2021) found that within their native range in Thailand, Burmese pythons do not avoid human dominated landscapes. Similarly, Bartoszek et al. (2021) found that in a northwest portion of ENP, within their invasive range, Burmese python hotspots were merely 515 meters from urban development on average. Researchers attributed this proximity to high quantities of readily available prey in these areas, in the form of livestock and birds attracted to the artificial lakes [11, 16]. However, egg clutches deposited in or near urban areas may exhibit lower survival rates than those in other habitats [8]. Though juveniles can travel long distances, particularly through use of agricultural canals, Pittman & Bartoszek (2021) hypothesize that in fact adult pythons with more sophisticated navigational capacities are the population driving expansion [18]. Adult sufficiency in and attraction to urban environments indicates that northward Burmese python expansion may not be hindered by human settlements.
Besides suitable habitat, the range of ectotherms such as the Burmese python is typically limited by climate and/or the possession of behavioral adaptations such as retreating into underground refugia during winter months [19]. Though a conservative estimate allows Burmese pythons to survive for short periods of time at 5 °C,, temperatures must be above 16 °C in order for them to maintain digestion [19]. In isolation, these requirements make further expansion of the Burmese python in more northern parts of Florida extremely unlikely without the additional development of hibernation behaviors [19]. However, other researchers have found evidence of rapid adaptation for increased thermal tolerance after an extreme cold event in 2010 that caused high python mortality [20]. Adaptations included the maintenance of an active digestive system and changes in gene expression related to regenerative organ growth and behavior [20]. This rapid evolution by natural selection may permit Burmese pythons to expand their range northward into more temperate climates.
However, there have been no studies in the last decade examining Burmese python’s potential for northward expansion, despite advances in climate and habitat models, tracking, and a greater understanding of Burmese python cold physiology. What studies do exist were inconclusive and results varied greatly: Rodda et al. (2009) and Pyron et al. (2008) provided oppositional potential range estimates. Rodda et al. (2009) concluded that the potential Burmese python range could include most of the southern U.S., from California through North Carolina. In contrast, Pyron et al. (2008) only included southern Florida and extreme southern Texas as the potential range of Burmese python expansion. Previous studies examining potential Burmese python range primarily agreed with Pyron et al. (2008) and all but two directly refuted the range suggested by Rodda et al. (2009) [19, 23-25]. Furthermore, climate change is projected to decrease the frequency and intensity of cold events in North America, allowing tropical species historically found at or near the equator, such as the Burmese python, to move poleward [26]. A literature review examining potential northward expansion of tropical organisms as a whole, with brief mentions of the Burmese python in Florida, posits that Burmese python range expansion is likely given the evidence for rapid adaptation for cold tolerance presented by Card et al. (2018) [26]. However, a complete understanding of the adaptive capacity of species, ecosystems, and biomes to climate change still remains lacking [26].
In addition to rapid adaptation to cold temperatures, Burmese pythons have shown evidence of hybridizing with another closely related invasive species, the Indian python (Python molurus) [27]. Hybridization has increased the population’s genetic diversity and allowed Burmese pythons to mitigate the founding and bottleneck effects — loss of genetic diversity due to a small founding population size or environmental effects [27]. Additionally, Hunter et al. (2018) found evidence of multiple paternity—the insemination of a female by more than one male during a single reproductive event—in Burmese pythons, also increasing python diversification rate. These behaviors allow for pythons to increase genetic diversity and will likely increase fitness, increasing the probability of northward expansion.
Burmese Python Presence (1979–2016), Conyers & Sen Roy 2021.
Disease
The invasion of the Burmese python in the GEE has introduced at least one pathogen, a lung parasite known as Raillietiella orientalis. Lacking coevolution with North American hosts, the spread and severity of this pathogen has increased in native species. This parasite now affects 13 species of native snakes and has extended beyond the python range into north central Alachua County, Florida, approximately 170 miles from the northernmost point of the GEE [28-30]. Researchers observed higher infection intensity, prevalence, and body size of R. orientalis in native snakes than in Burmese pythons, as native snakes do not share evolutionary history with R. orientalis and therefore are immunologically naive [29]. Infection by R. orientalis may be lethal or sublethal, and may be the cause of population decline of the pygmy rattlesnake [29, 31]. Additionally, R. orientalis’ native snake hosts have the highest rate of competence, or are most likely to transmit a resultant infection to a new host or vector after being exposed to a parasite. Furthermore, as R. orientalis’ native snake hosts are three of the most abundant snakes in North America [29], the parasite has a high likelihood of continued expansion throughout North America and possibly beyond [29]. Since the snakes of North America have not coevolved with R. orientalis, infections will be more severe and may cause population wide declines potentially resulting in devastating trophic cascades. The negative effects of the introduced parasite compound with those of Burmese python predation create weakened native populations more susceptible to parasitism, disease, and other stressors. More research is needed to ascertain the complete range of R. orientalis, expansion rate, intermediate hosts, sublethal effects on native snakes, and impact on populations.
In addition to introducing a novel pathogen, Burmese pythons are competent hosts of at least one native pathogen and are suspected to be competent hosts of more [28, 32]. As a competent host to native pathogens, the Burmese python likely acts as a reservoir for these pathogens, and increases transmission to native species and humans [28, 32]. However, Burmese pythons are also able to change disease transmission through alteration of host communities via predation. Such is the case with the endemic Everglades Virus (EVEV), which can cause inflammation of the active tissues of the brain, known as clinical encephalitis, in humans. Decreased mammal diversity as a result of Burmese python predation was found to increase blood meals on amplifying hosts—hosts in which infectious agents multiply rapidly to high levels—increasing EVEV infection in mosquitoes [12]. Thus, it is possible that Burmese pythons could increase disease prevalence in humans as well, though contact with infected hosts is required for spread and therefore human disease may be driven by different factors than those in the mosquito-rodent cycle [12]. Understanding of the complex relationship between Burmese python predation on host species while also acting as hosts themselves remains lacking for many other important diseases, and presents an opportunity for future research. Additionally, studies should be conducted to estimate human risk as a result of the Burmese python altering host communities.
Further disease spillback is mediated by elevated rates of mosquito feedings on Burmese pythons [32]. The mosquitos that prefer feeding on Burmese Pythons also feed on a range of other species, including mammals, birds, reptiles, and amphibians [32]. Additionally, mosquito ranges extend beyond that of the Burmese python [32]. Thus, through both preferential feeding by mosquitoes on Burmese pythons and large mosquito range, the introduction of the Burmese python into the Everglades has increased disease spread beyond the python range.
Predation
The Burmese python has more than 40 prey documented in the Everglades, including a wide range of mammals and birds, and occasionally American alligators [33]. Given their appetite and potentially large population numbers, Burmese pythons are able to exert control over species populations. The decline of particular species relative to others can then cause ecosystem-wide cascades. Pythons have been found to cause severe mammal population declines through predation in their invasive range including 99.3%, 98.9%, and 87.5% decreases in observation frequency of raccoons, opossum, and bobcats respectively [33, 34]. Additionally, pythons have caused a complete local extinction of marsh rabbits, once one of the most commonly seen animals in ENP [33, 35, 36]. When reintroduced to ENP, marsh rabbits were able to establish a breeding population five months after translocation, but by 11 months after reintroduction, 77% of deaths were attributed to Burmese pythons and the population was unable to reestablish [35]. This disproportionate predation makes the reestablishment of this and other similarly affected species impossible as long as the python persists. Similarly, an analysis of anthropogenic stressors and those posed by pythons found that the strongest predictor for marsh rabbit occurrence was distance from the epicenter of python invasion [36]. These results indicate that pythons have profound effects on ecosystem composition through predation and are able to cause trophic cascades, damaging the ecosystem. Additionally, as is the case with Marsh Rabbits, species may be unable to reestablish in the core invasion area, even with translocation efforts. This demonstrates that without removal of Burmese pythons from the GEE, biodiversity and community composition of the GEE may be irreparably damaged.
Large, highly fecund species with wide habitat breaths were found to be the least susceptible to increased pressure from pythons, so the decline of a highly fecund and habitat generalist such as the marsh rabbit is especially concerning [37]. Using trait relationships, researchers predicted exclusively negative responses in occupancy probabilities to the presence of Burmese pythons regarding five unobserved species of concern: the everglades mink, feral hog, gray fox, red fox, and Key Largo woodrat [37]. Though rodent populations were previously thought to be resistant to the effects of pythons, declines in these populations have also been observed, and due to their lack of evolutionary history, one species, the Eastern woodrat, has even been suggested to be attracted to python scent [34, 38]. These results and research conducted on mammal resilience to pythons have shown that there is little evidence of resilience among mammals within the core invasion area, which only further contributes to the homogenization of the ecosystem [34]. Additionally, it is likely that loss of diversity and competition will allow other invasive species to establish more easily [34]. The results show the need for continued monitoring of species to analyze trends, research on response to novel predators, and the mechanisms for negative responses of native species to Burmese pythons. Furthermore, these results suggest that removal or significant population reduction of Burmese pythons may be the only way to curb their negative impacts.
CONCLUSION
The purpose of this review was to examine the effects of the Burmese python in the GEE through predation, introduction and alteration of disease transmission, and potential range expansion. It is evident from this review that the Burmese python, through predation trophic alteration, has had severe effects on the native fauna of the GEE. Ultimately, it is the lack of coevolution between the Burmese python and native fauna that have led to the acute and persistent problems in the GEE. Burmese python establishment in the GEE has proved to be extremely detrimental to an ecosystem already facing considerable anthropogenic stressors. Given this, special attention should be paid to curb further Burmese python expansion to avoid similar ecological catastrophes due to the Burmese python. Further studies should be conducted regarding native resilience and recovery as populations eventually enter the third stage of invasion. Additionally, studies should be conducted to better quantify python density as to frame future understanding of ecosystem dynamics. The Burmese python is a prime example of many regarding invasive species across the globe. So, it is not only critical to better understand these aspects of python success and native fauna response, but the results may be applicable in the broader effort to manage invasive species.
REFERENCES
- South Florida Water Management District. 2022. History of the Greater Everglades Ecosystem: Role of the Everglades in the Greater Everglades ecosystem.
- Office of Economic & Demographic Research. 2022. Annual Assessment of The Everglades. 5:1-19.
- Congressional Research Service. 2017. Everglades Restoration: Federal Funding and Implementation progress.
- Defenders of Wildlife. Greater Everglades.
- National Park Service. 2021. Everglades National Park Frequently Asked Questions.
- Florio. 2021. Removing the cork in the bottle: Reconstructing Tamiami Trail to restore water flow to Everglades National Park.
- Willson, et al. 2011. Biol Invasions. 13: 1493-1504.
- Pittman & Bartoszek. 2021. BMC Zoology. 6(33).
- Nafus, et al. 2020. Journal of Herpetology. 54(1): 24-30.
- Janos. 2020. How Burmese Pythons Took Over the Florida Everglades. History.
- Bartoszek, et al. 2021. Ecosphere. 12(6).
- Burkett-Cadena, et al. 2021. Communications Biology. 4(804).
- Conyers & Sen Roy. 2021. Spatial Information Research. 29: 749–760.
- Hart, et al. 2015. Animal Biotelemetry. 3(8).
- Mutascio, et al. 2018. Landscape Ecology. 33, 257–274.
- Smith, et al. 2021. Sci Rep-UK. 11(7014).
- Walters, et al. 2016. Journal of Herpetology. 50(1): 50-56.
- Pittman, et al. 2014. Biology Letters. 10(3).
- Jacobson, et al. 2012. Integrative Zoology. 7(3): 271-285.
- Card, et al. 2018. Molecular Ecology. 27(23): 4744-4757.
- Rodda, et al. 2009. Biol Invasions. 11: 241–252.
- Pyron, et al. 2008. PLOS ONE. 3(8): e2931.
- Avery, et al. 2010. Biol Invasions. 12: 3649–3652.
- Dorcas, et al. 2011. Biol Invasions. 13: 793–802.
- Mazzotti, et al. 2016. Ecosphere. 7(8): e01439.
- Osland, et al. 2021. Glob Change Biol. 27(13): 3009-3034.
- Hunter, et al. 2018. Ecol Evol. 8(17): 9034-9047.
- Miller, et al. 2018. Ecol Evol. 8(2): 830–840.
- Miller, et al. 2020. Ecosphere. 11(6): e03153.
- Walden, et al. 2020. Frontiers in Veterinary Science. 7:467.
- Farrell, et al. 2019. Herpetological Review. 50(1): 73-76.
- Reeves, et al. 2018. PLOS ONE. 13(1): e0190633.
- Dorcas, et al. 2012. PNAS. 109(7): 2418-2422.
- Taillie, et al. 2021. Biol Conserv. 261: 109290.
- McCleery, et al. 2015. P. Roy Soc B-Biol Sci. 282(1805).
- Sovie, et al. 2016. Biol Invasions. 18: 3309–3318.
- Soto-Shoender, et al. 2020. Biol Invasions. 22: 2671–2684.
- Beckmann, et al. 2021. J Mammal. 103(1): 136–145.
Recovering Individual Based Model Outcomes on Spatiotemporally Coarsened Data
By Sameerah Helal, Applied Mathematics, Under supervision of Stephanie Dodson
Author’s Note: Individual Based Models (IBMs) are commonly used to study animal migrations and foraging behaviors. These flexible models are powerful in identifying the mechanisms driving animal movement; however, when fed spatially or temporally coarse environmental data, IBMs can often produce inaccurate model outcomes. Here, we investigate how model adaptations can mitigate negative consequences of poor data using an IBM of blue whales. Specifically, we find that models running on coarse data lead the simulated whale agents to clump together in their foraging behaviors and migrations paths. Algorithm adaptations, like altering the rate at which the whales update their locations, can reduce the locational clustering effect incited by spatially coarse data, and introducing available fine data to coarse data can mitigate the behavioral inaccuracies caused by temporally coarse data. These changes improve verified utilization distributions of whale positions, behavioral state plots, and associated metrics.
1 Introduction
Recognizing how species interact and forage within their environment is an important aspect for understanding animal migrations. Predicting movement and behaviors given environmental conditions is crucial for understanding how changes in environment, like climate change, will affect future migrations. Though many species migrate, we focus on the foraging behaviors of Northern Pacific blue whales.
The largest animal to have ever lived, North Pacific blue whales are well known marine mammals and seasonal migrators [1]. In winter, they can be found in breeding grounds off the coast of Mexico and Baja California; during summer and fall, they migrate to foraging grounds off the coast of California. Blue whales forage only on krill and need to consume large amounts of prey to meet their energetic needs. Their seasonal foraging is timed with coastal upwelling in the California current system, which leads to high densities of krill. Blue whales are also a threatened species, and their population growth is hindered by human intervention in the form of shipping lanes, discarded fishing gear, and changing climate [1].
Modeling is a common method used to understand animal migrations and foraging behavior. Individual Based Models, or IBMs, treat individual animals as autonomous agents whose movements and behaviors are governed by a set of probabilistic rules. An example of this is the IBM in [2]. This model has individual, autonomous, simulated blue whale agents interact with and move through a domain: a restricted geographic area throughout which the agents are allowed to move; at any time they occupy either a transit or forage state. The state is selected based on krill density and sea surface temperature (SST) [2]. This model was used to evaluate the relative importance of prey and environmental factors in driving movement distributions of whales. Previously, the IBM was only run effectively on very fine spatiotemporal resolution Regional Ocean Modeling System (ROMS) data: computer generated sea data that is assimilative and hindcast, meaning that it gives realistic ocean conditions constructed from past observations. With ROMS being computationally expensive to generate and not available in real time, ROMS data is not feasible to use for current prediction purposes.
Our long-term goal is to predict real whale locations and behaviors by simulating whale agents on current environmental conditions using real-time satellite data. However, satellite data is messy and often of poor resolution, having spatiotemporal resolutions as coarse as 12 km grid cells and 8 day time-steps compared to the ROMS data’s 3 km and 1 day resolutions. A time-step is the length of time between each day for which the satellite has collected data. This poor resolution data yields inaccurate predictions and misleading results when applied to the blue whale IBM models.
Figure 1, created using output from our own models, highlights that models run on low resolution data return misleading predictions of whale positions, forecasting them to be clustered in much smaller areas than they actually are. In Figure 2, which shows the proportion of whale agents foraging over time and gives a sense of population-level behaviors, it can be seen that the models inaccurately recreate whale behavior by causing a behavioral update lag that corrects itself in jumps. Similarly unrealistic predictions are expected for IBMs of other animal populations.
In this study, our objective is to understand how to adapt the IBM developed by Dodson et al., as well as the data, to produce realistic predictions in spite of poor input resolution [2]. To do so, we will coarsen the original ROMS data to mimic poor satellite data, then compare the results of the IBM run on the coarse data to the results of the model run on the unaltered ROMS data. From there, we will formulate model adaptations that will yield accurate results from the IBM, even when run on coarse data.
In the methods section, we detail the functions of the IBM, our data manipulation methods, and
Figure 1: Contour map comparing the 95% utilization distribution map for the Gold Standard and 12 km resolution on September 1, 2008. Points are whales from the 12 km population.
our proposed adaptations, as well as the metrics to compare outputs of the IBM. In the results, we describe the efficacy of our solutions, showing quantitatively and qualitatively how they improve the model output. We analyze these results, their advantages, shortcomings, and future implications in the discussion section.
2 Methods
2.1 The ROMS Data
Throughout the study, we utilized ROMS (Regional Ocean Modeling System) Data, with two geospatial fields: sea surface temperature (SST) and krill [3] [4]. The domain is located off the California coast (32 − 42◦N Latitude and 116 − 128◦W Longitude) for the year 2008.
The datasets are identical in shape and structure, but contain different information: SST is sea surface temperature in Celsius and krill is the relative density with values between 0 and 1. The resolution of this data, which we will henceforth refer to as the ‘gold standard’, is 3 km spatial and 1 day temporal. Imagine the environmental data to be two-dimensional maps stacked vertically, one for each time interval (Figure 3).
2.2 Description of the IBM
Our IBM, or individual based model, takes inputs of sea surface temperature (SST) and krill data as environmental information that whale agents interact with and use to inform their movements around the domain. This choice of input is motivated by the fact that real-life whales partially decide their movements based on krill availability, which is influenced by sea surface temperature. Note that all mentions of whales from this point onward refer to the simulated whale agents in the IBM. As they progress through the model, the whales can occupy either a transit state (S1), where they simply travel through the domain, or a foraging state (S2), where they “forage” for krill; the movement distribution of each state is dictated by the step length and turning angle variables. These behavioral states are inspired by the analysis of blue whale tagging data in [5]. This type of model
Figure 2: Proportion of population foraging over time for the Gold Standard and 8 day resolution.
is also referred to as a “state-switching” or “semi-Markovian” model, respectively because the whales switch to random states and because the switch depends largely on their current and previous locations. In a fully Markovian model, the state variable would not depend at all on past information, only current.
Movement updates are parametrized by step lengths and turning angles. On any position update, the turning angle determines at what angle from its current trajectory a whale should turn, and the step length determines how far in that direction to travel. For each whale these parameters are drawn from respective Gamma and Von Mises, two probability distributions with their own parameters µ and σ. Distinct distributions are defined for whales in the foraging versus transit state. The distributions of the step length and turning angle are also functions of the time intervals given as parameters in the model. They have moments µ = h · 3700, σ = h · 2150 for the transiting state, and µ = h · 1050, σ = h · 970 foraging state [5]. Here, h represents the number of hours in one time-step (the amount of time between a location update) as follows:
Figure 3: Visualization of the SST and krill data as a 3-dimensional tensor.
(a) Forage state
(b) Transit state
Figure 4: Step length probability distributions for whales in forage or transit state for rate 1, 2, and 4.
Note that, while the step length and turning angle themselves are random, the absolute direction in which the whale turns depends on its current and previous location, which form the start of the zero degree angle from which the whale will turn. Hence, the “semi-Markovian” reference. At every update, each individual reads its local SST and krill conditions, which influence the probability of foraging through a distribution defined by
where z = 3 is a normalization parameter that ensures that the probability does not exceed 1, w1 = 1 and w2 = 2 are weights, and P SST and P krill are the respective probability distributions of foraging given SST and krill.
Lower SST and higher krill densities in a whale’s surroundings are associated with an increased likelihood of it either switching to or continuing in the foraging state (Figure 5).
(a) Based on surrounding SST
(b) Based on surrounding krill density
Figure 5: Probability of a whale foraging based on its environment.
To summarize the process: the IBM is initiated on May 1st in the southern portion of the domain, and at each update, the whales’ movement aligns with a movement distance based on the distributions in Figure 4 and their current location. Their foraging state is determined from their environmental conditions. This update cycle repeats until the end of the simulation, which, in this case, is the end of the year.
2.3 Data Coarsening in Space and Time
We manipulated the ROMS data to mimic the data collection shortcomings of satellites to achieve data coarsening. Specifically, satellite readings are plagued by coarse spatial and temporal resolutions. These are in part due to a satellite’s movement, type of readings, and presence of cloud cover. Making the ROMS data ‘bad’ in the way that satellite data is flawed required coarsening the data in space and time.
Spatial coarsening of the SST and krill ROMS data was accomplished through Matlab’s meshgrid and interp3 functions, for which the input data was the original 3 km spatial resolution, and returned it in lower resolutions of 6 km, 9 km, and 12 km. These coarser resolutions were selected to match available satellite data and test the limits of our methods.
To make up for missing data over time, satellites tend to use moving means: averaging the data over an interval, shifting the interval forward, and repeating the process; thus, our temporal coarsening was accomplished through averaging the data over time. To obtain coarsened data with an n−day resolution, we averaged the data in every n time-slices. The n slices were compressed into a single slice, resulting in a total of 1/n times the number of original time-slices. We performed this temporal averaging for 3 days and 8 days to mimic time resolutions consistent with satellite data.
Figure 6: SST data from September 1, 2008, coarsened temporally and spatially. The axes of each map show the number of grid cells from the bottom left corner.
Note that minor alterations to the IBM’s parameters, not mentioned because of their triviality, were required so that the model would run given the new dimensions of the data.
2.4 Issues from Coarser Data
Once we had coarsened the data, feeding it into the IBM no longer resulted in the same whale behavior or locations as the gold standard, which used data with 3 km, 1 day spatiotemporal resolution. Unlike many of the models based on coarser data, the gold standard results in whale locations spread over the coast with continuous population foraging behavior. In model iterations parametrized by the more extreme resolutions, like 12 km in space or averaged over 8 days in time, using the coarse data resulted in perceiving the whale population to act completely differently.
When tracking movement based on data coarsened in space (Figure 1), the whales tended to move closer to each other as the simulation progressed, resulting in them clustering unrealistically at the coast instead of being spread over the domain. Adding temporal coarsening to the data only exacerbated this clumping effect.
In addition to causing the whales to cluster over time, temporal coarsening alone also altered
Figure 7: Zoomed in utilization distribution maps of spatially coarse data vs. the gold standard. Curves show the 95% contour of the UDs. The full domain is shown on the right, with the regions on the left indicated by the orange box.
whale behavior. Abrupt jumps in the percentage of whales foraging became apparent at the end of each time-slice, making the whales’ feeding behavior appear unrealistically stepwise for extremely coarse time (Figure2).
Figure 8: Percentage of population foraging over time for temporally coarse data vs. the gold standard.
These deviations from the gold standard output required that we alter the IBM or its inputs such that the IBM would continue to produce realistic results, even with poor data.
2.5 Model Adaptations: Spatial
In an effort to have the IBM running on coarse data reproduce the same movement and behavioral patterns as the gold standard IBM running on the gold standard ROMS data, we modified parts of its algorithm; in particular, we scaled the time-steps of the IBM.
To mitigate the issues that arose specifically from spatially coarse data, we adjusted the rate at which the whales’ locations and behavioral states were updated. In the gold standard model, the whales take 4 steps per day (every 6 hours), with step length selected from a Gamma distribution with parameters µ0 and σ0. In order to recover realistic whale movements, i.e. to have the whales move the same distance over the same amount of time, we scaled this distribution by a parameter h, defined in equation 1, to accommodate for the increased size of grid cells caused by coarse spatial data.
From the gold standard model’s rate of 4 time-steps, we changed our rates to 1 and 2, corresponding, respectively, to time-steps of 24 and 12 hours. This way, the whales updated locations less often, but took larger steps that were matched to the larger grid cells [5], preventing them from getting trapped in grid cells due to limited movement ability, allowing them to move freely as they did when basing their movements on the ROMS data.
2.6 Model Adaptations: Temporal
To mitigate the disruption to whale behavior caused by temporally coarse data in the IBM, we introduced temporally finer data (when available) to the coarsened data, resulting in a hybrid coarse-fine environmental dataset that we could pass to the IBM. Our intention was to develop a methodology for handling temporally coarse input data while remaining consistent with the available satellite data. Temporally finer satellite data (e.g. 1 day, or daily) is often prohibitively sparse for IBM use due to missing data from clouds or the location of the satellite, but 8-day averages are sufficiently dense. We used this structure to our advantage and augmented the coarse data with available finer resolutions.
We regard the coarse data as our primary input, and the fine data as our secondary input. First, we created gaps in the coarse data by using Matlab’s randi function to select 30% of the indices in the data matrix uniformly at random. Then, to fill in the gaps in the coarse data, we replaced the randomly selected indices of the coarse data with the fine. In short, given temporally coarse data, we backed it up, or combined it with data of similarly coarse spatial, but finer temporal (1 day) resolution. For example, we might modify the 6 km, 8 day coarse data by replacing 30% of it with the finer 6 km, 1 day data.
Note that combining data of different resolutions in this way required some interpolation of the coarser data to the larger dimensions of the fine.
Before selecting 70% as the ratio of temporally coarse data, we analyzed real GOES (Geostationary Operational Environmental Satellites) satellite data recorded from the same area of the ocean as our ROMS data. Measurements of the GOES data are gathered by the GOES Imager, a multi-channel radiometer carried aboard the satellite. This satellite data is available in 6 km spatial resolution (about 0.05 degree latitude-longitudinal resolution) and in 1, 3, 8, 14, and 30 day composites averaged in time. Satellite SST data was extracted from NOAA GOES Imager Western Hemisphere satellite and accessed via [6]. Examples of data with few holes and many holes can respectively be found in Figure 9.
(a) A day with very few holes
(b) A day with many holes
Figure 9: SST GOES satellite data on days with varying amounts of holes. Dark blue indicates missing data.
Plotting the percentage of the data that was missing (Figure 10) showed that the highest percentage of clouds at any time, for the first temporal resolution (1 day), was 80%, with an average of 40%. That is, on any given day, there is a wide range of data that might be missing. We also tested a range of coarse to fine ratios (i.e. percentages of missing data) on our own data, and the lowest percentage of fine data that returned reasonably improved results from no fine data at all was 30%. Thus, in what follows, we fix 30% as the amount of fine data to introduce, and 70% as the amount of ‘missing’ or coarse data. The improvements will be further discussed in the Results section; see table 3.
2.7 Metrics
The behaviors that we are trying to replicate in the gold standard are the foraging behaviors over time and over the whales’ habitat area. We used two established metrics to compare model outputs between the adjustments, as well as a third that we designed to be a combination of the two.
The L2 norm, or the Mean Square Error, was used to measure how close the whales’ foraging behavior resulting from any of the models was to that of the gold standard model output. We extracted the vector of the percentage of whales foraging over time for both models and, after applying a moving mean, compared them using the L2 norm of the data. This metric provided an understanding of the foraging behaviors of the whale population through time. We define
Note that XGS represents the output produced by the gold standard model. Lower L2 norms indicate a more accurate reproduction of the gold standard outcomes, and an L2 norm of zero indicates that the models have identical foraging behavior.
Figure 10: Percentage of the missing data for real, daily satellite GOES data. Dashed vertical lines indicate the beginning of each month.
Utilization distributions are probability distributions built from the data points of individual positions and are commonly used to understand and compare animal habitats. To quantify the accuracy of the utilization distribution produced by a given model, we used the volume intersection (‘VI’ in the adehabitathr R package) between the utilization distribution of the final positions of the whales from the given model versus the gold standard model. The positions were taken from September 1, 2008, a date by which the whales had had sufficient time to explore and interact with the domain. This gives a measure of how close the model output is to the gold standard in terms of whale positions. We refer to this volume as the ‘VI’. The equation for the VI integral is
for model run X compared to the gold standard model at all points (x, y) in our domain.
Because we are measuring overlap of the utilization distributions, a higher value indicates better model performance, with the maximum being 1. Due to the stochastic, meaning somewhat random, nature of the model, a VI value of 1 was not achieved even by comparing two of the same model runs from the gold standard, which returned an overlap value of around 99%; thus, for our purposes, VI values near 0.9 are considered good.
The UDs and VI values were computed using R. We formatted the final whale positions of each model, labeled by the resolution of its input data, into a dataframe, then used the kerneloverlap and kernelUD functions from the R (version 4.0.2) package adehabitatHR to return the VI overlap value [7]. Our choice of setting the method argument to ’VI’ gave us the computed volume of intersection between the gold standard and coarse data model outputs.
Finally, our own ∆ metric is the combination of the L2 and VI norms: for a model outcome X, we defined
Since all efforts to adapt the model were done in order to produce equivalent results to the gold standard when fed into the simulator, our goal was to minimize the ∆ of the model; i.e. minimize the L2 and maximize the VI values. We measured the effectiveness of a model adjustment by quantifying model improvement using the fold decrease in ∆ values before and after the adjustment was applied.
3 Results
3.1 Changing Rate Counteracts Spatially Coarsened Data
We focus first on purely spatially coarsened data, which has the same 1 day temporal resolution as the data used in the gold standard. The model run on spatially coarsened data resulted in unrealistic behaviors from the whales: resolutions lower than the gold standard of 3 km prevented the whales from exploring the entirety of the domain and caused them to move closer together as the IBM progressed. In particular, the agents ended up in clusters near the coast instead of spread over the domain. In an attempt to recreate the spread-out behavior of the gold standard IBM, we decreased the rate at which the whales updated their locations and behavioral states.
Without any temporal coarsening, adjusting the rates significantly mitigated the clustering effects of spatial coarsening on the locations of the whales. Changing the rate in the IBM caused the whales to forage in generally the same areas with coarse data as they did with the gold standard data. The utilization distributions of the whales’ positions on the date September 1, which we noted was chosen as a sufficiently advanced time in the simulation to show model- representative whale behaviors (Figure 7), became visibly more similar to that of the gold standard.
Table 1: Original and corrected VI for spatially coarsened data, with fold decrease in ∆ values.
The original VI values for the coarse data for 9 km, and 12 km were 0.705, 0.480, and 0.256 respectively. Recall that higher VI values, closer to the maximum of 1, are more desirable. After adjusting the rate, these values became 0.710, 0.654, and 0.549; all improvements, even to the 6 km, which show less dramatic improvement due to already being relatively close to the gold standard. In addition , before changing the rate, the ∆ values were about 1.9, 2.8, and 3.0; all very high and
Figure 11: Utilization distribution maps of spatially coarsened data with and without altered rates.
indicative of undesirable model results that did not align with the gold standard. After changing the rate, these values reduced to 1.2, 1.4, and 1.7; at minimum a 1.6-fold decrease each, with the 9 and 12 km resolutions seeing the greatest favorable impacts.
3.2 Introducing Finer Data Counteracts Temporally Coarsened Data
We now consider purely temporally coarsened data, keeping the spatial resolution constant at 3 km. Recall that coarsening the data temporally caused issues with population-level whale foraging behavior. For lower temporal resolutions than the gold standard’s 1 day, the whales experienced abrupt, en masse changes in foraging state, causing the percentage of whales foraging over time to look unrealistically segmented. To mitigate this effect, we introduced finer data as a replacement for 30% of the coarse data as described in the Methods section. With the addition of the finer data, the foraging percentages were visually less step-like and numerically closer to the gold standard results.
Table 2: L2 norms for temporally coarsened data before and after the addition of 30% 1 day data, with fold decrease in ∆ values.
When naively fed temporally coarse data, i.e. when no changes are made to the data or the model to counter the effects of the temporal coarseness, the IBM results had ∆ values of 1.4 and 2.0 respectively for 3 day and 8 day. These high ∆ values are largely due to jump-like behaviors in the percentage of whales foraging. After replacing 30% of the coarse data with available fine data, we found that the ∆ values decreased over 1.6-fold and 2-old, to a value near 1. Similarly, the L2 norms decreased, as desired, from 1.2 and 1.7 to 0.77 and 0.93 for the coarse temporal resolutions of 3 day and 8 day.
Figure 12: Proportion of the population foraging over time for temporally coarsened data with and without added finer data.
3.3 Combined Spatial and Temporal Fixes
Negative influences on whale foraging behaviors were amplified when the environmental data had both poor spatial and temporal resolutions: with no fixes, the spatiotemporally coarsened data had a minimum ∆ of 3 across all resolutions. Combining the fixes by substituting available fine data, then changing model rate was successful in improving the behaviors in the combined coarseness scenario. By reducing the jumps in the number of whales in each behavioral state, and increasing the overlap between the utilization distributions of the corrected and gold standard models, we were able to decrease the ∆ value to be capped at 1.6. This was at least a 2.6-fold decrease in ∆s for each of the spatiotemporally coarsened datasets, greater than for any of the adjustments applied to data that was coarse in only one dimension.
Table 3: Fold decrease in ∆ for all spatiotemporal coarsening combinations.
Figure 13: Bar chart of ∆ values for spatiotemporally coarse data before and after algorithm modifications.
4 Discussion
Our long-term goal was to run the IBM on satellite data to predict real-time locations of blue whales. However, the IBM had only been shown to produce realistic predictions on fine-scale input data. Specifically, gaps and poor resolution of SST and krill data would lead to inaccurate simulations and predictions of whale movements. To the end of mimicking this ‘bad’ data, we coarsened our data spatially and temporally. By decreasing the rate at which the whales updated their locations and introducing available fine data to the coarse data, we successfully improved the results of the IBM when running on coarse data, as measured by the VI, L2, and ∆ metrics,.
Of our two directions of coarsening, the first we dealt with was spatial. The lower spatial resolution (e.g. 12 km instead of the gold standard 3 km), or larger grid cells, caused the whales to clump together over time instead of exploring the entire domain. We anticipated that this was because the increased size of grid cells caused the whales to be trapped in areas of high foraging; the whales’ step lengths were too short to exit areas with high foraging probability. Since the step lengths are a function of the step rate, with larger average lengths corresponding to lower rates, by decreasing the rate at which the whales updated locations, the step length became better aligned with the spatial size of the grid cells. Larger step lengths prevented the whales from getting stuck in rich foraging locations and allowed agents to step out of a grid cell and continue to explore the domain. For example, changing the update from 6 to 24 hours (rate 4 to rate 1) shifted the average step length of foraging from 6.3 km to 25 km. The larger average step length then allowed individuals to exit a 12 km grid cell and continue to explore the domain.
Our second direction of coarsening was temporal; lower temporal resolutions were apparent in sudden changes in the percentage of whales foraging. The jump-like behaviors were due to the whales operating on old information: the coarser the temporal resolution, the more outdated the whales’ knowledge of their surroundings. Our model correction was to provide the agents with the most up to date information when possible. Adding finer data into the coarse data removed the unrealistic jumps in the whales’ behavior and yielded population-level foraging activity that better resembled the gold standard.
Our solution for temporal coarsening is particularly powerful because of its scale: we only required 30% of the coarse data to be randomly replaced with the fine to see great improvement. Analysis of GOES satellite data showed that the average missing data during the summer and fall, commonly due to cloud cover, is usually less than 40% and rarely exceeds 70%. Thus, utilizing 30% of 1 day temporal resolution data with 70% of temporally coarse data is a realistic quantity, and actually uses the upper bound of 70% for the amount of missing satellite data. We introduced the fine data to the coarse data uniformly at random as the natural first step, since it did not require any assumptions about the locations or shapes of the missing data. One next step would be to target localized, perhaps even moving, regions for more ‘cloud-like’ replacement.
The methods we develop here are not at all unique to modeling blue whale populations; they can be applied to any individual based model in which the agents make decisions based on environmental input data. These solutions are particularly useful for models that, like ours, have inputs that are dynamic in space and time; nearly any IBM for animal movement could be similarly adapted. By incorporating finer temporal data when possible and aligning the step lengths to be of the same order as the spatial grid resolution, we believe other individual based models can be used with coarse environmental data to make predictions that are considerably more similar to those they might make with finer, more accurate data.
The problem of predicting animal behavior based on environmental conditions is an important one, especially with continually changing impacts from humans and climate change. With these results and further exploration in our suggested direction, it is our hope that it will be possible to make accurate, real-time predictions of whale positions based on satellite data.
References
- Scales KL, Hazel EL, Jacox Mg, Edwards CA, Boustany AM, Oliver MJ, Bograd SJ. 2017. Scale of inference: on the sensitivity of habitat models for wide-ranging marine predators to the resolution of environmental data. Ecography [Internet]. 40:210-220. doi:10.1111/ecog.02272.
- Dodson S, Abrahms B, Bograd SJ, Fiechter J, Hazen EL. 2020. Disentangling the biotic and abiotic drivers of emergent migratory behavior using individual-based models. International Journal on Ecological Modelling and Systems Ecology [Internet]. 432. doi:10.1016/j.ecolmodel.2020.109225.
- Rose KA, Fiechter J, Curchitser EN, Hedstrom K, Bernal M, Creekmore S, Haynie A, Ito S, Lluch-Cota S, Megrey BA, Edwards CS, Checkley D, Koslow T, McClatchie S, Werner F, MacCall A, Agostini V. 2015. Demonstration of a fully-coupled end-to-end model for small pelagic fish using sardine and anchovy in the California Current. Progress in Oceanography [Internet]. 138(B): 348-380. doi:10.1016/j.pocean.2015.01.012.
- Fiechter J, Huckstadt LA, Rose KA, Costa DP. 2016. A fully coupled ecosystem model to predict the foraging ecology of apex predators in the California Current. Marine Ecology Progress Series [Internet]. 556:273-285. doi:10.3354/meps11849.
- Bailey H, Mate BR, Palacios DM, Irvine L, Bograd SJ, Costa DP. 2009. Behavioural estimation of blue whale movements in the Northeast Pacific from state-space model analysis of satellite tracks. Endangered Species Research [Internet]. 10:93-106. doi:10.3354/esr00239.
- 2019. SST, GOES Imager, Day and Night, Western Hemisphere. https://coastwatch. pfeg.noaa.gov/erddap/index.html.
- Calenge C. 2006. The package adehabitat for the R software: tool for the analysis of space and habitat use by animals. Ecological Modelling 197:516-519. doi:10.1016/j.ecolmodel.2006.03.017.
Making Brain Stimulation a Mainstream Treatment for Aphasia
By Eva Clubb, Cognitive Science, ’21
Author’s Note: I started research on aphasia for an upper-division writing class, and was intrigued by the potential of brain stimulation as an effective and practical treatment option for aphasia, with potential to treat other brain disorders. Finding an intersection between neuroscience, technology, and linguistics is critical to broaden speech therapy treatment. I hope readers will be excited by the possibilities that advancements in neuroscience have in healthcare.
Forms of “language” are found in many kinds of species. This suggests an innate desire for communication and a neural predisposition to do so. The human brain is specialized for spoken language, such that acute damage or acute stimulation to language processing areas can modulate a person’s fluency of speech. From having a heart-to-heart with a good friend, chatting with a local barista, or updating your doctor on your symptoms: verbal communication mediates a casual relationship between your inner world and the outer one. Wants, needs, worries, and tiny little things you just have to get off your chest can be articulated without second thought.
Now, imagine being stripped of the ability to communicate with the outer world. An individual’s increasing forgetfulness or tendency to stumble over their words might not be indicative of normal cognitive decline as a result of aging. Instead, subtle decreases in fluency might be symptoms of aphasia: a common and incurable language disorder, usually an effect of underlying brain damage. People with aphasia are perfectly intelligent and cognizant, but are limited in their ability to read, speak, and understand language.
Aphasia affects almost 2 million Americans; nearly a third of those who experienced a stroke develop aphasia because of damaged language processing areas in the brain [2]. Aphasia refers to language impairments that disrupt the ability to access ideas and thoughts through language; it does not disrupt the ideas and thoughts themselves. The onset of aphasia is associated with brain damage, developed concurrently with a disease like Dementia or following an injury like a stroke. Patients with aphasia may have trouble verbalizing their thoughts in several ways: jumbling words together, speaking gibberish, substituting one word for another, poor grammar, speaking in short sentences, trouble retrieving words or names.
Gradual yet consistent symptom improvements are typically nurtured by a speech language pathologist. To increase working vocabulary, common speech therapy techniques include conversational therapy, word finding, and naming tasks during weekly or bi-weekly sessions over the course of months or years. Although prior research in stroke patients suggest that increasing duration of sessions, sessions per week and the number of weeks of speech therapy are best for improving speech, the inconvenience and cost is a significant impediment to its implementation [3]. So how can people learn and retain more linguistic information at a faster rate? This is where neuroscientists enter the conversation. Non-invasive brain stimulation can mimic and amplify the effects of activities we regard as ‘mentally stimulating.’
Non-invasive imaging technology can pinpoint brain areas associated with speech impairments, and applying acute electrical current triggers neural changes associated with language learning. The neural changes as a result of therapy can be observed either through functional neuroimaging, like fMRI, revealing the areas of activation, or by quantifying changes in brain structure, in the number and volume of fiber bundles in processing areas [4]. Neural connections, or synapses, are the physical mechanism of learning. When synaptic connections become vulnerable due to the applied electrical currents, having higher neuroplasticity, learning occurs most rapidly. Often neuroplasticity is cited in the context of infants whose brains develop at an incredible rate. However, any experience, task, or event will modify the connections in your brain. Therefore, artificially increasing neuroplasticity through electrical brain stimulation amplifies the effects of a learning experience. It is unclear whether brain stimulation induces true ‘learning’, or the reactivation of dormant, inaccessible information [4].
In the context of aphasia, brain stimulation is paired with conventional speech therapy tasks to accelerate the rate of language improvements. Brain stimulation can be performed at little cost to patients, typically through transcranial direct current stimulation (tDCS). tDCS involves placing two electrodes on the surface of the scalp and sending a small electrical current to the brain.
Figure 1: Two electrodes placed at the surface of the scalp deliver a small electrical current. Common targets are language processing centers Wernicke’s area and Broca’s area.
The process is completely non-invasive, described by patients as a tingly feeling. tDCS treatment is in the experimental stages for other types of disorders where brain abnormalities are relatively localized and widely researched, including depression and anxiety.
Neuroscientists have identified and experimented with tDCS to major language processing areas in the brain, where damage is linked to aphasia. Within the left Inferior Frontal Gyrus, ‘Broca’s area’ is primarily responsible for speech production. Damage to Broca’s area causes trouble naming and may restrict speech to short, ungrammatical sentences. Research in stroke patients shows combining tDCS to Broca’s area with word-repetition tasks improves accuracy in speech production, while conversational therapy enhances picture, noun, and verb naming [2]. Likewise, ‘Wernicke’s area’ in the Superior Temporal Gyrus is associated with speech comprehension. Predictably, impairments to Wernicke’s area cause deficits in understanding others’ speech and writing. Researchers found the combined stimulation of this area and speech therapy improved verbal comprehension. While Broca’s and Wernicke’s area have been thoroughly investigated, several studies have used MRI to locate brain damage before experimenting with the application sites of tDCS. Other studies have applied tDCS to unconventional brain areas with mixed effects. Stimulation to the cerebellum has enhanced spelling ability, while stimulation to the primary motor cortex improved naming ability on trained words [5].
The effectiveness of tDCS is verifiable through controlled clinical trials. ‘Sham-tDCS’ acts as a placebo: it produces a tingling sensation in the scalp without affecting neural functions, leading patients to believe they were receiving true tDCS. In many instances, the groups receiving sham-tDCS showed some improvements, although not as significant as the group receiving true-tDCS. This could be attributed to effective speech therapy tasks themselves or a mild placebo effect. Regardless, the superiority of the treatment group was exacerbated over time: after 6 months the sham-tDCS group showed a significant decrease in the initial improvements made [5]. This suggests tDCS not only promotes learning but is important for long-term maintenance.
Scientists’ understanding of the short-term and long-term impacts of tDCS, the specifications of the treatment, and how exactly speech therapy modifies the brain is growing. Unanswered questions remain about the parameters and expected outlook for the treatment. What is the best combination of speech therapy tasks and stimulation sites? How many sessions of tDCS are necessary? How long should electrical current be applied for? What kind of results should be expected? How should you expect conversational ability to change?
Tentative answers to these questions establish tDCS as a feasible supplement to speech therapy. Knowledge about brain structure and linguistic function create an interdisciplinary approach to aphasia treatment. Modern treatments like tDCS are enabled by technology and mitigate the time and cost barrier of intensive speech therapy. Healthcare workers and neuroscientists, and patients might benefit from investigating how to make brain stimulation a mainstream treatment for aphasia.
References:
- Chomsky, N. “On the Biological Basis of Language Capacities.” In The Neuropsychology of Language: Essays in Honor of Eric Lenneberg, edited by R.W. Rieber, 1-24. Boston, MA: Springer. 1976
- Biou, Cassoudesalle, Cogne, Sibon, De Gabory, Dehail, Aupy, Glize. 2019. Transcranial direct current stimulation in post-stroke aphasia rehabilitation: A systematic review. Ann Phys Rehabil Med . 2019 Mar;62(2):104-121. doi: 10.1016/j.rehab.2019.01.003
- Breitenstein, Grewe, Flöel , Ziegler, Springer, Martus, Huber, Willmes, Ringelstein, Haeusler, Abel, Glindemann, Domahs, Regenbrecht, Schlenck, Thomas, Obrig, Ernst de Langen, Rocker, Wigbers, Rühmkorf, Hempen, List, Baumgaertner. 2017. Intensive speech and language therapy in patients with chronic aphasia after stroke: a randomised, open-label, blinded-endpoint, controlled trial in a health-care setting. Lancet. 389(10078):1528-1538. doi: 10.1016/S0140-6736(17)30067-3.
- Crosson B, Rodriguez AD, Copland D, Fridriksson J, Krishnamurthy LC, Meinzer M, Raymer AM, Krishnamurthy V, Leff AP. 2019. Neuroplasticity and aphasia treatments: new approaches for an old problem. J Neurol Neurosurg Psychiatry. 90(10): 1147–1155. doi:10.1136/jnnp-2018-319649.
- Meinzer M, Darkow R, Lindenberg R, Floel A. 2016. Electrical stimulation of the motor cortex enhances treatment outcome in post-stroke aphasia. Brain. 139(Pt 4):1152-63. doi: 10.1093/brain/aww002
The Impact of vasopressin and oxytocin and pair-bonding on social development in prairie voles (Microtus ochrogaster)
By Hera Choi, James Hagerty, Ananya Narasimhan, Elyza Ramirez, Rana Sherkat, Karen Bales, Logan Savidge, Academic Editors
Acknowledgement: We offer our sincerest appreciation to Dr. Karen Bales and Logan Savidge for their continued guidance and support throughout our writing process for this literature review. The edits and remarks provided on their behalf not only allowed us to polish up the paper, but also gave us many opportunities to learn more about the nature of the prairie voles we work with. We would also like to thank the editors of the Aggie Transcript for providing us excellent feedback, tools, and edits to bring us to our finished literature review.
Abstract:
Prairie voles are a monogamous rodent species that exert a variety of human-like social behaviors. Voles are often used as animal models to study certain behavioral patterns in humans. This paper attempts to review the neurobiology of prairie vole pair-bonding. Hormones such as oxytocin and vasopressin are known to have biological effects on prairie vole pair-bonding development. We hypothesize that the introduction of oxytocin and vasopressin may facilitate behaviors such as aggression since it has been revealed that pair-bonding highly impacts social behavioral displays.
Introduction:
Microtus ochrogaster, commonly known as the prairie vole, exhibits many similar behavioral patterns to humans, including biparental care, alloparenting (the presence of non-breeding male and female voles participating in pup care), pair-bonding, and social attachment. As such, prairie voles have been used widely in studies investigating various mental health disorders, namely autism spectrum disorder, depression, addiction, and schizophrenia, providing researchers with more information on human behaviors related to cognition, parenting, and interpersonal relationships [1]. This review aims to demonstrate that pair-bond formation, in conjunction with the hormones oxytocin and vasopressin, aids prairie vole social development. Although these conclusions can be made with current research, further research should can address limitations such as including more female prairie voles in these studies and comparing oxytocin uptake between both sexes.
Prairie voles live in communal groups, typically consisting of males and females with their offspring [2]. Pair-bonding between male and female prairie voles can facilitate the biparental care of their offspring as opposed to monoparental care. As a biparental species, both male and female prairie voles divide postpartum parental activities relatively equally. Both maintain and build their nest, cache food, lick, groom, and brood pups [4]. The only parental activity strictly maternal is the nursing of pups [4]. Biparental care is not the only form of parenting that vole pups can receive. Parenting styles can also vary in duration of contact and the presence of alloparental care. Extended family lines often exist, in which juveniles remain in the natal nest as alloparents [5].
Once a male and female pair form an established pair-bond, they remain socially monogamous. A standard method of measuring a pair-bond in animals in the lab is partner preference testing, or measuring the mate’s preference for their partner over a stranger of the opposite sex. Through partner preference testing, researchers have demonstrated that injecting high doses of oxytocin (OT) or vasopressin (AVP) is associated with the development of a pair-bond in both male and female prairie voles [6]. Antagonists of OT or AVP receptors interfere with pair-bond formation, further supporting that both OT and AVP are necessary for pair-bonding behaviors [5]. AVP also regulates nonresident males’ exclusion by the resident male, also known as mate-guarding, further maintaining the pair-bond between the resident male and female vole [2].
Social monogamy is a characteristic that is rarely seen in the animal kingdom. Critical hormones combined with prairie voles’ social environment make these coinciding behaviors possible.
The Role of Hormones in Affiliative Behaviors
Although hormones do not directly cause behavioral changes by influencing the three behavioral components (sensory systems, central nervous systems, and effectors), hormones can increase the possibility that appropriate responses will be expressed in response to certain stimuli [6]. Studies have aimed to reveal mechanisms in which hormones act on pair-bonding behavior. Receptor autoradiographic binding procedures, in which radioactive molecules are attached to ligands to visualize receptor distributions, showed higher vasopressin receptor (V1aR) densities in the medial preoptic area of the brain in pair-bonded male prairie voles compared to that of sexually naïve male voles [7]. It has been supported that the V1aR is necessary for both the formation and maintenance of pair-bonds in prairie voles, suggesting AVP has a significant role in pair-bonding behavior, particularly once male prairie voles reach sexual maturity [8].
However, in female prairie voles, AVP inhibition appears to have little effect on altering pair-bonding behaviors. Instead, the use of oxytocin receptor antagonist, ornithine vasotocin (OTA), results in inhibition of partner preference formation [8]. It has been demonstrated that the administration of OT with dopamine (DA) can induce partner preference without mating in female prairie voles [8,9]. Some studies have expanded on the role of OT and DA in pair-bond formation, revealing that the presence of OT and DA D2-type receptors in the nucleus accumbens (NAcc), the mediator of motivation and action, are both vital in pair-bond formation in female voles [10]. This is further supported by findings that have determined a positive correlation between affiliative behavior and oxytocin receptor density within the NAcc [11,12]. High concentrations of both OT and DA D2-type receptors within the NAcc suggest that affiliative behaviors and pair-bonding are extremely rewarding for female prairie voles.
While the effects of AVP and OT inhibition on vole pair-bonding behavior are well studied, there have also been studies that have looked at the direct impact of administration of these hormones. Through partner preference testing, researchers have demonstrated that injecting high doses of AVP or OT is associated with the development of a pair-bond in both male and female prairie voles [13]. However, it has been shown that AVP administration to juvenile male voles can later result in impediments in partner preference formation [14]. Similar to what was observed in adult female voles, treatment of OT during the neonatal stage significantly decreases the display of partner preference-related behaviors in female voles [15]. These findings demonstrate possible dual effects of a single hormone determined by the dose, age, and duration of administration.
The Role of Hormones in Social Aggression
Social recognition is an integral component of prairie vole behavior, permitting this species to distinguish one conspecific from another for protection, inbreeding avoidance, monogamous mate selection, and comfort [16]. Aggression or affiliation displays are based on the lack or presence of recognition, respectively, likely mediated by oxytocin receptors (OXTR) [16]. Prairie voles commonly show aggression towards non-familiar individuals, especially after forming a pair-bond with another vole [6]. In many species of mammals, gonadal hormones have a prominent role in mate guarding and mating-related aggression [6]. However, it has been supported in prairie voles that the removal of gonads has little effect in decreasing aggression [17,18]. Instead, AVP and OT, rather than gonadal hormones, appear to control aggressive behaviors in prairie voles. For example, injection of AVP in adult male prairie voles increases intermale aggression. Meanwhile, developmental exposures of AVP can induce post-mating-like aggressive behaviors in sexually naïve males [19]. Sexually dimorphic roles are also present in aggression behaviors, with AVP administration having less effects on aggression in female voles. AVP receptor antagonists do block female aggression, highlighting the need for AVP receptors in aggression behaviors, even in female voles [19].
Aggression in female voles and its mechanisms have not been studied as extensively as it is in males. There are indications that OT may play a significant role in female vole aggressive behaviors. Females treated with OT following weaning show increased intrasexual aggression, while males treated with the same procedures are not affected [20]. Developmental OT treatment also results in decreased social behaviors in female voles [20]. Overall, further investigation on the effects of OT on male prairie vole guarding and aggression as opposed to female prairie voles is needed to make comparative conclusions.
Vole Behavior and Hormones
This review looked in depth at prairie vole behaviors related to the hormones AVP and OT. Together, both hormones induce social behaviors in male and female prairie voles, particularly those related with affiliation and pair-bonding. It is important to note that hormonal treatment may result in very different effects based on the developmental stage of the voles, the dosage of hormones, and the surrounding environment. This may be particularly important when experimenting with voles across multiple developmental stages, but this has yet to be studied. Further research should investigate whether AVP and OT have differential effects on prairie vole development, as hormonal influences tend to change over time.
Sexual Dimorphism
In all behavioral aspects, including aggression and pair-bonding, sexual dimorphism was observed in response to specific hormone inhibitors and hormone treatments. AVP has been found to be more important for adult male prairie vole pair-bonding, whereas OT and DA are necessary for pair-bonding in adult female voles. However, the effects of AVP and OT become more complex depending on when additional injections have been administered during the prairie vole’s life. Although AVP is significant for male prairie vole pair-bonding, administration during the juvenile stage can actually impair the formation of partner preferences. This effect is also seen in neonatal females, but with OT and not AVP. The difference in hormonal physiology may be a factor in the sexually dimorphic behaviors we see in the two sexes, though more research is needed for conclusive remarks. It may also suggest that the neurobiology between males and females is different from one another, at least in the aspect of pair-bonding.
A general trend that was discovered was that there had been more research done regarding male prairie voles. Due to the fact that the two sexes of voles show dimorphic behaviors, it is important to study both sexes of voles separately to prevent generalization of prairie vole neurobiology.
Prairie voles have become valuable organisms through which we can observe many aspects of human behavior. Although prairie vole neurobiology is incredibly complex, it paves the way for more research to be done to clarify the link between hormonal activity and behavior for both prairie voles and humans alike. Further routes of research that we suggest are quantifying the relationship between AVP receptors and aggression in female voles, since current studies mostly address this relationship in males. Similarly, we can address the effect of OT on intrasexual aggression in male prairie voles to comparatively study the effects of OT between sexes. Research of these factors may also be enhanced by including trials on prairie voles of different developmental stages to study the long-term outcomes of these hormones on behavior. Overall, our hypothesis linking OT and AVP to the neurobiology of pair-bonding and subsequent behaviors is supported by the literature, but there are many gaps to fill regarding the comprehensive impact of these hormones and pair-bonding on social displays and behavior between both sexes and across developmental stages.
References:
- McGraw, L., & Young, L. 2010. The prairie vole: an emerging model organism for understanding the social brain. Trends In Neurosciences. 33(2): 103-109. Doi: =10.1016/j.tins.2009.11.006
- Carter, C. S., & Getz, L. L. 1993. Monogamy and the Prairie Vole. Scientific American. 268(6):100–106.
- Thomas, J. A., & Birney, E. C. 1979. Parental Care and Mating System of the Prairie Vole, Microtus ochrogaster. Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology. 5(2): 171–186.
- Roberts, R., Zullo, A., & Carter, C. 1997. Sexual Differentiation in Prairie Voles: The Effects of Corticosterone and Testosterone. Physiology & Behavior. 62(6): 1379-1383. doi: 10.1016/s0031-9384(97)00365-x
- Cho, M. M., De Vries, A. C., Williams, J. R., & Carter. C. S. 1999. The Effects of Oxytocin and Vasopressin on Partner Preferences in Male and Female Prairie Voles (Microtusochrogaster). Behavioral Neuroscience. 113(5): 1071-1079. doi:10.1037//0735-7044.113.5.1071
- Nelson, R. J., & Kriegsfeld. L. J. 2018. An Introduction to Behavioral Endocrinology (5th ed). Massachusetts : Siauner.
- Gobrogge, K. L., Liu, Y., Young, L. J., & Wang, Z. 2009) Anterior Hypothalamic Vasopressin Regulates Pair-Bonding and Drug-Induced Aggression in a Monogamous Rodent. PNAS. 106(45): 19144-19149. doi:10.1073/pnas.0908620106
- Insel, T. R., & Hulihan, T. J. 1995. A Gender-Specific Mechanism for Pair Bonding: Oxytocin and Partner Preference Formation in Monogamous Voles. Behavioral Neuroscience,\. 109(4): 782-789.
- Williams, J. R., Catania, K. C., & Carter, S. 1992. Development of Partner Preferences in Female Prairie Voles (Microtus ochrogaster): The Role of Social and Sexual Experience. Hormones and Behavior. 26: 339-349.
- Liu, Y., & Wang, Z. X. (2003). Nucleus Accumbens Oxytocin and Dopamine Interact to Regulate Pair Bond Formation in Female Prairie Voles. Neuroscience, 121, 537-544. doi:10.1016/S0306-4522(03)00555-4
- Olazábal, D. E., & Young, L. J. (2006a). Oxytocin receptors in the nucleus accumbens Facilitate “spontaneous” maternal behavior in adult female prairie voles. Neuroscience, 141(2), 559–568. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.neuroscience.2006.04.017
- Olazábal, D. E., & Young, L. J. (2006b). Species and individual differences in juvenile Female alloparental care are associated with oxytocin receptor density in the striatum and the lateral septum. Hormones and Behavior, 49(5), 681–687. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.yhbeh.2005.12.010
- Ross, H. E., & Young, L. J. (2009). Oxytocin and the neural mechanisms regulating social cognition and affiliative behavior. Frontiers in Neuroendocrinology, 30(4), 534–547. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.yfrne.2009.05.004
- Simmons, T. C., Balland, J. F., Dhauna, J., Yang, S. Y., Traina, J. L., Vazquez, J., & Bales, L. (2017). Early Intranasal Vasopressin Administration Impairs Partner Preference in Adult Male Prairie Voles (Microtus ochrogaster). Frontiers in Endocrinology, 8: 145. doi:10.3389/fendo.2017.00145
- Bales, K., Westerhuyzen, J. A. V., Lewis-Reese, A. D., Grotte, N. D., Lanter, J. A., Carter, S. (2007). Oxytocin has dose-dependent developmental effects on pair-bonding and alloparental care in female prairie voles, Hormones and Behavior, 52 (2), 274-279. doi: 10.1016/j.yhbeh.2007.05.004.
- Blocker, T. D., & Ophir, A. G. 2015. Social recognition in paired but not single male prairie voles. Animal Behaviour. 108: 1–8. doi:10.1016/j.anbehav.2015.07.003
- Demas, G. E., Moffatt, C. A., Drazen, D. L., & Nelson, R. J. 1999. Castration Does not Inhibit Aggressive Behavior in Adult Male Prairie Voles (Microtus ochrogaster). Physiology & Behavior. 66(1): 59-62.
- Bowler, C. M., Cushing, B. S., & Carter, C. S. 2002. Social Factors regulate Female-Female Aggression and Affiliation in Prairie Voles. Physiology & Behavior. 76: 559-566.
- Stribley, J. M., & Carter, S. 1999. Developmental Exposure to Vasopressin Increases Aggression in Adult Prairie Voles. PNAS. 96(22): 12601-12604.
- Bales, K. L., Carter, C. S. 2003. Sex Differences and Developmental Effects of Oxytocin on Aggression and Social Behavior in Prairie Voles (Microtus ochrogaster). Hormones and Behavior. 44: 178-184. doi:10.1016/S0018-506X(03)00154-5
- Arias del Razo, R., & Bales, K. L. 2016. Exploration in a dispersal task: Effects of early experience and correlation with other behaviors in prairie voles ( Microtus ochrogaster). Behavioural Processes, 132, 66–75. doi: 10.1016/j.beproc.2016.10.002
- Carter, C. S., & Roberts, R. L. 1997. The psychobiological basis of cooperative breeding in rodents. In N. G. Solomon & J. A. French (Eds.). Cooperative breeding in mammals. Cambridge University Press. 231-236.
- DeVries, A. C., DeVries, M. B., Taymans, S., & Carter, C. S. 1995. Modulation of pair bonding in female prairie voles (Microtus ochrogaster) by corticosterone. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 92(17): 7744–7748. doi: 10.1073/pnas.92.17.7744
- Donaldson, Z. R., Spiegel, L., & Young, L. J. 2010. Central Vasopressin V1a Receptor Activation is Independently Necessary for Both Partner Preference Formation and Expression in Socially Monogamous Male Prairie Voles. Behavioral Neuroscience, 124(1): 159-163. doi:10.1037/a0018094
Physiological and Psychological Factors in Developing Comorbid Mood Disorders in Complex Regional Pain Syndrome Patients
By Clara Brewer, Neurobiology, Physiology, and Behavior ’22
Author’s Note:
In 2015, I was diagnosed with a rare pain disorder- Complex regional pain syndrome (CRPS). Not only does this disorder cause unimaginable pain, it is also virtually invisible to others, creating a discrepancy between the outside world’s perception of CRPS and the actual struggle that CRPS patients deal with, both physically and emotionally. Current trends for CRPS treatment are focused on the physical aspects of the disorder- increasing mobility and use of the affected limb. Oftentimes, this approach fails to treat the simultaneous psychological changes that can increase a patient’s risk for developing a concurrent mental health disorder. Even though I had access to a top CRPS treatment facility, I still experienced depression and anxiety which made my recovery from CRPS much harder. While writing a different paper focused on educating newly diagnosed individuals on the causes, symptoms, and available treatment options for CRPS, I realized that most of my findings addressed the physical symptoms and not the psychological changes. This discrepancy between both my own experiences and the experiences of many others who were diagnosed with CRPS and the treatment options available inspired me to try to understand this connection between CRPS and the increased diagnosis of comorbid mental health disorders.
While many students who read this paper may not go on to change the treatment for one rare disorder- it is important for anyone who wants to go into the medical field to begin reshaping their approach to medicine by reading articles like mine. I hope to shed light on the importance of reevaluating current treatment protocols for a wide range of disorders to include more mental health support for patients- a topic directed for students hoping to pursue a career in the medical field. By viewing medical diagnosis- in this case CRPS- as an interconnection between mind and body, future medical professionals will be able to holistically address disorder, instead of treating only the more obvious physical symptoms.
Complex regional pain syndrome (CRPS), a neuroinflammatory disease, ranks number one on the McGill Pain Scale, topping fibromyalgia, cancer, and amputation without anesthetics. The development of CRPS typically occurs after trauma to the arm or leg (e.g., breaking of a bone, dislocation of a joint, surgical trauma to a limb) that results in a disproportionately high sensation of pain. This painful response is chronic and characterized by constant pain with additional flare-ups that last different amounts of time from person to person. As a result, those with CRPS will often experience perpetual pain that can be made even worse with stress.
After the initial injury and subsequent chronic pain, a CRPS diagnosis follows the Budapest Diagnostic Criteria, where patients must report symptoms in three of four categories and must present symptoms in two of four categories at the time of evaluation. The categories are as follows: sensory, vasomotor (relating to blood vessels), sudomotor (relating to sweat glands), and motor/tropic (relating to muscles and bones). Symptoms include swelling of the limbs, skin discoloration, abnormal sweat response, and painful responses to non-painful or slightly painful stimuli, among others [1].
CRPS affects 200,000 people in the United States each year. Among those affected, half are also diagnosed with a psychiatric disorder [2]. More specifically, CRPS patients have a much higher prevalence of depression than the general population, with 15.6 percent of CRPS patients diagnosed with depression compared to 3.4 percent of people diagnosed with depression worldwide [2]. Since the pain in CRPS is so intense and the length of a painful flare-up varies from person to person, many patients come to develop a fear of the pain itself, altering their fear-brain circuits and creating a negative relationship between pain and their psychological state [3]. Mood disorders like depression and anxiety also have similar pathophysiology as CRPS, so the onset of CRPS can instigate the development of a comorbid mood disorder without an external trigger like grief, loss, or substance abuse. Within the physiology of CRPS, cytokine and astrocyte levels become dysregulated, mimicking the pathophysiology noted in certain psychiatric disorders and thus increasing rates of comorbid psychiatric disorders. Similarly, the fear-brain circuit is altered during the onset and prolonged management of CRPS, eventually transforming from pain-related fear to an overall manifestation of anxiety.
While the number of patients being diagnosed with comorbid mood disorders is growing, the current CRPS treatment protocol does not typically include the management of these psychiatric disorders. As more research is conducted to explore the physiological and psychological changes that occur with the onset of CRPS, mounting evidence suggests more mental health resources should be provided to alleviate CRPS-related symptoms, both physiological and psychological, and speed up the recovery timeline [4].
Dysregulation of Biomarkers in CRPS and Mood Disorders
TNF-α and Cortisol
During CRPS, depression, and anxiety, plasma levels of the pro-inflammatory cytokine tumor necrosis factor-α (TNF-α) are increased by a statistically significant degree [5]. This cell-signaling protein is integral to maintaining a healthy immune response and stimulates the release of a corticotropin-releasing factor. With CRPS, TNF-α activates and sensitizes primary afferent nociceptors, leading to the characteristic excessive pain [5]. TNF-α not only plays an important role in the development of CRPS, but also in the development and severity of depression. In fact, the more severe the reported depressive symptoms, the higher the concentrations of plasma TNF-α [6].
The increased concentration of TNF-α may be explained by its role in the regulation of the hypothalamic pituitary adrenal (HPA) axis which is responsible for neuroendocrine modulation of the body’s stress response. With an upregulation of pro-inflammatory cytokines like TNF-α in CRPS, the HPA axis increases the secretion of a corticotropin-releasing factor, adrenal-corticotropin hormone, and eventually cortisol. Prolonged elevations of cortisol lead to a shift in tryptophan usage from the tryptophan-serotonin pathway to the tryptophan-kynurenine pathway instead [7]. The shift away from the tryptophan-serotonin pathway greatly limits the production of serotonin, eventually interfering with mood stabilization, sleep cycle regulation, and neuronal communication [8]. Metabolites are then used in the tryptophan-kynurenine pathway instead, leading to the production of two neurotoxic chemicals, 3-hydroxyanthranilic acid, and quinolinic acid.
Quinolinic acid contributes to neurodegeneration seen in conditions like depression through free radical formation, mitochondrial malfunction, and energy store depletion. These changes trigger the mass destruction of neuronal cells which leads to the degeneration of brain functions such as memory and learning [9]. In fact, it has been suggested that elevated TNF-α levels is one precursor to the development of depression [5]. Therefore, TNF-α could be a potential biomarker for comorbid depression in CRPS patients.
Figure 1: TNF-a’s role in the dysregulation of tryptophan metabolism. Under normal conditions, tryptophan is transformed into serotonin in the brain and gut, producing regulatory effects on mood and the sleep cycle as well as promoting health communication between neurons. Under inflammatory conditions, like those seen in CRPS and depression, TNF-a secretion inhibits the production of serotonin through the upregulation of adrenal-corticotropin. Tryptophan is then utilized in the liver for production of neurotoxins through the Kynurenine pathway.
Catecholamines
Following the acute stage of CRPS, stimulation of the sympathetic nervous system and the resulting release of catecholamines increase the production of another important cytokine, interleukin-6 (IL-6). When the body undergoes acute stress, the sympathetic nervous system is activated and causes the release of two catecholamines, epinephrine and norepinephrine. These hormones increase blood pressure, heart rate, breathing rate, and dilate the pupils. Catecholamines are also regulators of IL-6, a cytokine that plays an important role in nociceptor sensitivity while also increasing chances of developing comorbid anxiety. Norepinephrine upregulates the translation of IL-6 by 49-fold, therefore increasing the plasma concentration of IL-6 after sympathetic stimulation [10]. In the case of CRPS, the initial trauma to the affected limb activates this fight-or-flight response and increases IL-6 levels. The chronic elevation of IL-6 not only leads to chronic inflammation, but also increases nociceptor sensitization and the transmission of signals between sensory neurons, both of which are linked to chronically elevated levels of pain [11].
Not only does IL-6 play an important role in inflammatory and pain responses and the onset of CRPS, the cytokine also modulates the expression of another cytokine, interleukin-1 (IL-1). IL-1 is critical for the onset of anxiety-type symptoms by dampening the activation of endocannabinoid receptor CB1R (GABA), which limits GABA’s anti-anxiety effects [12]. In fact, general anxiety disorder patients had statistically significant high levels of IL-6 through environmental stimulation of the sympathetic nervous system [7]. By adding the excitatory effects of CRPS on the sympathetic nervous system, there is no need for external stimulation to begin anxiety symptoms. For this reason, it has been suggested that elevated levels of IL-6 from the onset of CRPS can stimulate IL-1 and induce comorbid anxiety [12].
Figure 2: Sympathetic stimulation following acute CRPS results in an increase in catecholamines. The subsequent upregulation of interleukin-6 and interleukin-1 dampens GABA’s anti-anxiety effects and leads to increased nociceptor activation.
Astrocytes
In conjunction with the changes to cytokines in CRPS, anxiety and depression, subsequent changes to the functioning of astrocytes have been noted in all three diagnoses [13]. Astrocytes are a subclass of glial cells that hold a supportive function for neurons. Under typical conditions, astrocytes are responsible for modulating neuroendocrine functions, regulating synaptic transmission, and regulating glutamate levels in the body [14]. With CRPS, astrocytes become upregulated and activated via stimulation from excess pro-inflammatory cytokines, changing their gene expression to become A1 reactive astrocytes. A1 reactive astrocytes then go on to secrete neurotoxins and more pro-inflammatory cytokines [15]. The activation of A1 reactive astrocytes also induces higher levels of glial fibrillary acidic protein, thus increasing the number of glial glutamate transporters on astrocytes [16]. This hyperactivity and hypersensitivity of astrocytes to glutamate trigger calcium release that increases neurotransmission within nociceptors and ultimately contributes to the intense and chronic pain associated with CRPS [15].
Additionally, patients with major depressive disorder show an mean increase of 35 μmol/L of glutamate concentration in the cortex, a statistically significant changeincrease that is indicative of the severity of depressive symptoms [17]. The shift in gene expression in astrocytes and upregulation of glutamate with the onset of CRPS not only increases nociceptor activation but also neurodegeneration through the reinforcement of the tryptophan-kynurenine pathway discussed earlier. Interestingly, the increased concentration of glutamate inhibits the production of kynurenic acid and instead promotes the production of quinolinic acid [18]. As discussed, quinolinic acid is a potent neurotoxic compound that can lead to neurodegeneration associated with depression. The upregulation and activation of A1 reactive astrocytes in response to inflammation from CRPS increases extrasynaptic glutamate concentrations, causing hyperactivation of nociceptors and increased production of quinolinic acid. With this in mind, there is evidence that the pathophysiology of astrocytes during CRPS may increase the risk of comorbid depression.
CRPS Psychology: Cycle of Pain-Related Anxiety
The fear of pain, also known as harm-avoidance, complicates treating chronic pain conditions like CRPS. This is because certain treatments like physical or occupational therapy methods used in CRPS rehabilitation can quickly become unsuccessful if patients begin to avoid activities that increase symptoms or pain. These treatment techniques can include graded motor imagery, range-of-motion exercises, mirror therapy, desensitization, and electrical stimulation. Although these rehabilitation techniques may temporarily increase CRPS-related pain, therapy is an essential part of treatment and by avoiding painful activities, not only does the CRPS become increasingly worse, but the fear of pain is also cognitively reinforced.
This reinforcement is seen in the fear-learning neural pathway, a series of neurons that extend from the left amygdala to the hippocampus, cerebellum, brainstem, and other parts of the central nervous system. The chronic pain of CRPS and subsequent fear of pain continuously activates neurons that extend to this fear-learning circuit, strengthening the connection between the left amygdala, the fear control center, and the hippocampus, the learning and memory center. This repetitive activation ultimately intensifies the fear brain circuit [19]. Consequently, the cycle of pain-related anxiety begins, transitioning from a fear of pain to an avoidance of pain which then further reinforces the fear of pain [2]. This phenomenon is identified in multiple studies, suggesting a more quantitative link between CRPS and anxiety.
In one study, a group of 64 CRPS patients were evaluated to determine psychological comorbidities. Twenty-eight individuals received a psychiatric diagnosis following the onset of CRPS, with 10 of those 28 diagnosed with anxiety disorders [20]. Not only did the study reveal these diagnoses, they also found that increased anxiety was directly linked to increased pain through the fear-brain pathway [13]. In fact, another study reported that 70 percent of CRPS patients had elevated pain-related fear scores [19]. While the anticipation of pain can elicit pain response, it can also lead to an avoidance of daily responsibilities, physical inactivity, disability, poorer long-term recovery, and higher rates of anxiety and other mood disorders [20]. As a result, the altered fear-brain circuits associated with CRPS increase the likelihood of developing comorbid anxiety.
Conclusion
CRPS alters the body’s physiology and changes certain psychological processes, increasing the chances for developing a comorbid psychiatric disorder. With the dysregulation of cytokines and astrocytes, the immune system’s functioning is disturbed, which leads to abnormal levels of kynurenine and serotonin similar to that of depression [5]. As the levels of kynurenine increase, so does the concentration of extrasynaptic glutamate, upregulating processes that signal both pain and depression [9]. The fear-brain circuit is also altered as pain signals become stronger and more frequent with CRPS, catastrophizing pain and ultimately leading to elevated levels of both pain and anxiety [3]. While pain itself can be debilitating, the simultaneous occurrence of pain and comorbid psychiatric disorders seen in CRPS can lead to avoidance of daily life, thereby worsening both disorders.
Today, most patients managing CRPS disorders are reluctant to express their psychological symptoms and look for help on their own, yet neglecting the psychological side often worsens the symptoms of their diagnosis and makes recovery more difficult [19].Current research suggests that CRPS treatment should shift towards focusing on the psychological components that intensify pain in order to holistically treat CRPS. Over the past few years, more studies have explored the relationship between CRPS and psychiatric disorders, but there has been less research into treatments that would help with both disorders simultaneously. Just as CRPS is often misdiagnosed as an invisible disorder, psychological symptoms may be overlooked or undertreated when physiological responses garner priority. A new perspective of CRPS that acknowledges this association is needed to gain a more comprehensive understanding of the disorder.
References:
- Wie, C., Gupta, R., Maloney, J. et al. 2021. Interventional Modalities to Treat Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. Curr Pain Headache Rep. 25, doi:10.1007/s11916-020-00904-5
- Bean,. J., Johnson, H., Heiss-Dunlop, W., Lee, C., & Kydd, R. 2015. Do psychological factors influence recovery from complex regional pain syndrome type 1? A prospective study. Pain. 156(11), 2310–2318, doi:10.1097/j.pain.0000000000000282
- Antunovich, D.,, Horne, J., Tuck, N., Bean, D. 2021. Are Illness Perceptions Associated with Pain and Disability in Complex Regional Pain Syndrome? A Cross-Sectional Study. Pain Medicine. 22 (1): 100–111, doi:10.1093/pm/pnaa320
- Park HY, Jang YE, Oh S, Lee PB. 2020. Psychological Characteristics in Patients with Chronic Complex Regional Pain Syndrome: Comparisons with Patients with Major Depressive Disorder and Other Types of Chronic Pain. J Pain Res. 13:389-398, doi:10.2147/JPR.S230394
- Üçeyler, N., Eberle, T., Rolke, R., Birklein, F., Sommer, C. 2007. Differential expression patterns of cytokines in complex regional pain syndrome. Pain. 132(2007): 195-205. doi: 10.1016/j.pain.2007.07.031
- Zou, W., Feng, R., Yang, Y. 2018. Changes in the serum levels of inflammatory cytokines in antidepressant drug-naive patients with major depression. Plos One. 13(6): e0197267. doi: 10.1371/journal.pone.0197267
- Strong, J., Jeon, S., Jeon, S., Zhang, J., & Kim, Y. 2020. Glial Cells and Pro-inflammatory Cytokines as Shared Neurobiological Bases for Chronic Pain and Psychiatric Disorders. Overlapping Pain and Psychiatric Syndromes: Global Perspectives. doi:10.1093/med/9780190248253.003.0003
- Carhart-Harris, R. & Nutt, D. 2017. Serotonin and brain function: a tale of two receptors. J Psychopharmacol. 31(9): 1091-1120. doi: 10.1177/0269881117725915
- Pérez-De La Cruz, V., Carrillo-Mora, P., & Santamaría, A. 2012. Quinolinic Acid, an endogenous molecule combining excitotoxicity, oxidative stress and other toxic mechanisms. Int J Tryptophan Res. 5: 1–8, doi: 10.4137/IJTR.S8158
- Burger, A., Benicke, M., Deten, A., Zimmer, H. G. (2001). Catecholamines stimulate interleukin-6 synthesis in rate cardiac fibroblasts. Am J Physiol Heart Circ Physiol. 281: H14-H21. doi:10.1152/ajpheart.2001.281.1.H14
- Zhou, YQ., Liu, Z., Liu, ZH., Chen, SP., Li, M., Shahveranov, A., Ye, DW., & Tian, YK. 2016. Interleukin-6: an emerging regulator of pathological pain. J Neuroinflammation. 13: 141. doi: 10.1186/s12974-016-0607-6
- Rossi, S., Sacchetti, L., Napolitano, F., De Chiara, V., Motta, C., Studer, V., Musella, A., Barbieri, F., Bari, M., Bernardi, G., Maccarrone, M., Usiello, A., Centonze, D. 2012. Interleukin-1β cauSeS anxiety by interacting with the endocannabinoid system. J Neurosci. 32(40): 13896-13905. doi: 0.1523/JNEUROSCI.1515-12.2012
- Ji, RR., Donnelly, C.R. & Nedergaard, M. 2019. Astrocytes in chronic pain and itch. Nat Rev Neurosci. 20: 667–685, doi:10.1038/s41583-019-0218-1
- Jauregui-Huerta, F., Ruvalcaba-Delgadillo, Y., Gonzalez-Castaneda, R., Garcia-Estrada, J., Gonzalez-Perez., Luquin, S. 2010. Response of glial cells to stress and glucocorticoids. Curr Immunol Rev. 6(3): 195-204. doi: 10.2174/157339510791823790
- Li, T., Chen, X., Zhang, C., Zhang, Y., & Yao, W. 2019. An update on reactive astrocytes in chronic pain. J Neuroinflammation. 16: 140. doi: 0.1186/s12974-019-1524-2
- Wesseldijk, F., Fekks, D., Huygen, F., van de Heide-Mulder, M., Zijlstra, F. 2008. Increased plasma glutamate, glycine, and arginine levels in complex regional pain syndrome type 1. Acta Anaesthesiol Scand. 52(5): 688-94. doi: 10.1111/j.1399-6576.2008.01638.x
- Mitani, H., Shirayama, Y., Yamada, T., Maeda, K., Ashby, C., Kawahara, R. 2006. Correlation between plasma levels of glutamate, alanine and serine with severity of depression. Pro Neuro Psychoph. 30(6): 1155-1158. doi: 10.1016/j.pnpbp.2006.03.036
- Schwarcz, R. & Stone, T. 2018. The kynurenine pathway and the brain: challenges, controversies and promises. Neuropharmacology. 122(Pt B): 237-247. doi: 10.1016/j.neuropharm.2016.08.003
- Simons, L. E. 2016. Fear of pain in children and adolescents with neuropathic pain and complex regional pain syndrome. Pain. 157: 90-97, doi:10.1097/j.pain.0000000000000377
- Brinkers, M., Rumpelt, P., Lux, A., Kretzschmar, M., & Pfau, G. 2018. Psychiatric Disorders in Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS): The Role of the Consultation-Liaison Psychiatrist. Pain Res Manag. doi:10.1155/2018/289436