As the second-largest object in the main asteroid belt, Vesta attracts a healthy amount of scientific interest. While smaller asteroids in the belt are considered fragments of collisions, scientists think Vesta and the other three large objects in the belt are likely primordial and have survived for billions of years. They believe that Vesta was on its way to becoming a planet and that the Solar System's rocky planets likely began as protoplanets just like it. But new research is casting doubt on that conclusion.
Reader Debra Coplan made a trip to Baja, and today sends us photos. Her captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.
I had the opportunity to visit the Baja Peninsula this past weekend, and would like to share some of the wonderful vegetation I saw from the that area. We went as far south as the Sonora Desert region to Catavina, east of the Pacific Ocean. Catavina is about 300 miles south of the border.
We had to drive from the north which had Mediterranean desert foliage to the Sonora Desert which had little rain. The Mediterranean desert gets hurricanes which dump water to an area in that more northern part of the desert.
The Mediterranean desert is north of Sonora desert, but they abut next to each other. Sometimes we saw Mediterranean desert on one side of the road and Sonora-type vegetation on the other . A clearer transition between the 2 areas became evident as we went south into drier region: one side being lush with taller plants and the other side dry with low plants.
I am not a biologist, so hopefully I’ve identified the plants correctly.
Boojum Tree – Cirio Idria columnaris
This is an plant endemic to this Catavina area of the desert. It is the signature plant of the region, and can get to 70 feet tall. The flame of leaves on the top are golden like a flame at the top of a candle. See top photo.The second Boojum had a stalk that was in an area of more water so it looks more lush. The name Boojum is in reference to Lewis Carroll’s poem, “The Hunting of the Snark”. It is looks a bit like an upside down carrot with a whitish stalk.
On the road on the way out of Catavina we were stopped by the military police checking to make sure we did not steal a Boojum tree to transplant up north. Cardon. Pachycereus pringleiLThis particular cardon had a genetic mutation so instead of growing up, it grew sideways. The man is about 6’ tall. I was fascinated by the one limb that wasn’t affected by the mutation.
California penstemon; Penstemon californicus:
I am including this penstemon flower because it was my favorite story. I loved how it gets pollinated. Unfortunately, the plant was down below a steep creek so I did not get a photo.
Various species of bees in the region are guided into the flower by the purple lines pointing the way to the back of the flower. It reminds me of an airplane coming in for a landing.
As the bees go in, the pollen rubs from the antlers (male part) off onto the bee. You can see the long anthers but unfortunately there was no pollen in this one. The bees then fly off to another penstemon where the pollen interacts with the stigma (female part) deeper in the flower to pollinate.
Nightshade Mariola, Solanum hindsianum
Unfortunately I don’t have a picture of a flower on this plant either, but was amazed by the pollination story. This plant had very tiny opening at the end of the yellow anthers. It’s very hard for bees to get into the tiny opening to get the pollen so they use buzz pollination. The bees grab hold of the yellow anthers and vibrate their bodies, which forces the pollen out and onto their bodies, where it gets distributed.
Hedgehog cactus, Echinocereus:
In Catavina, inland from the Pacific Ocean, we visited a cave of the Cochimis, the indigenous inhabitants of this area.
A steep 10-minute hike up huge boulders of the Sonora desert reveals a cave with some paintings that were about 4,000 years old. I have no idea what dyes they used, but heard they were not from plants of this area.
There is the head of a hummingbird in the painting below:
In my previous post I wrote about how we think about and talk about autism spectrum disorder (ASD), and how RFK Jr misunderstands and exploits this complexity to weave his anti-vaccine crank narrative. There is also another challenge in the conversation about autism, which exists for many diagnoses – how do we talk about it in a way that is scientifically accurate, useful, and yet not needlessly stigmatizing or negative? A recent NYT op-ed by a parent of a child with profound autism had this to say:
“Many advocacy groups focus so much on acceptance, inclusion and celebrating neurodiversity that it can feel as if they are avoiding uncomfortable truths about children like mine. Parents are encouraged not to use words like “severe,” “profound” or even “Level 3” to describe our child’s autism; we’re told those terms are stigmatizing and we should instead speak of “high support needs.” A Harvard-affiliated research center halted a panel on autism awareness in 2022 after students claimed that the panel’s language about treating autism was “toxic.” A student petition circulated on Change.org said that autism ‘is not an illness or disease and, most importantly, it is not inherently negative.'”
I’m afraid there is no clean answer here, there are just tradeoffs. Let’s look at this question (essentially, how do we label ASD) from two basic perspectives – scientific and cultural. You may think that a purely scientific approach would be easier and result in a clear answer, but that is not the case. While science strives to be objective, the universe is really complex, and our attempts at making it understandable and manageable through categorization involve subjective choices and tradeoffs. As a physician I have had to become comfortable with this reality. Diagnoses are often squirrelly things.
When the profession creates or modifies a diagnosis, this is really a type of categorization. There are different criteria that we could potentially use to define a diagnostic label or category. We could use clinical criteria – what are the signs, symptoms, demographics, and natural history of the diagnosis in question? This is often where diagnoses begin their lives, as a pure description of what is being seen in the clinic. Clinical entities almost always present as a range of characteristics, because people are different and even specific diseases will manifest differently. The question then becomes – are we looking at one disease, multiple diseases, variations on a theme, or completely different processes that just overlap in the signs and symptoms they cause. This leads to the infamous “lumper vs splitter” debate – do we tend to lump similar entities together in big categories or split everything up into very specific entities, based on even tiny differences?
The more we learn about these burgeoning diagnoses the more the diagnostic criteria might shift away from a purely clinical descriptive one. Perhaps we find some laboratory marker (such as a result on a blood test, or finding on an MRI scan of the brain). What if that marker has an 80% correlation to the clinical syndrome? How do we use that as a diagnostic criterion? The more we learn about pathophysiology, the more these specific biological factors become part of the diagnosis. Sometimes this leads to discrete diagnoses – such as when it is discovered that a specific genetic mutation causes a specific disease. The mutation becomes the diagnosis. But that is often not the case. The game changes again when treatments become available, then diagnostic criteria tends to shift toward those that predict response to treatment.
One question, therefore, when determining the best way to establish a specific diagnostic label is – what is your purpose? You might need a meaningful label that helps guide and discuss basic science research into underlying phenomena. You may need a diagnosis that helps predict natural history (prognosis), or that guides treatment, or you may need a box to check on the billing form for insurance, or you may need a diagnosis as a regulatory entity (for FDA approval for a drug, say).
ASD has many of these issues. Researchers like the spectrum approach because they see ASD as different manifestations of one type of underlying neurological phenomenon. There are many genes involved, and changes to the pattern of connectivity among brain cells. Clinicians may find this lumper approach a double-edged sword. It may help if there is a single diagnostic approach – scoring on standardized tests of cognitive, motor, language and social functioning, for example. But it also causes confusion because one label can mean such dramatically different things clinically. The diagnosis is also now often attached to services, so there is a very practical aspect to it (and one major reason why the diagnosis has increased in recent years – it gets you services that a less specific diagnosis might not).
Now let’s go to the social approach to the ASD diagnosis. The purely scientific approach is not clean because “science” can refer to basic science or clinical science, and the clinical side can have multiple different approaches. This means science cannot currently solve all the disputes over how the ASD diagnosis is made and used in our society. It’s ambiguous. One aspect of the debate is whether or not ASD should be considered a disease, a disorder, or just a spectrum of natural variation within the human species. Anti-vaxxers want to see is as a disease, something to be prevented and cured. This approach also tends to align better with the more disabled end of the spectrum. At the high functioning end of the spectrum, the preference is to look at ASD as simply atypical, and not inherently inferior or worse than neurotypicals. The increased challenges of being autistic are really artificially created by a society dominated by neurotypicals. There are also in fact advantages to being neuroatypical in certain areas, such as jobs like coding and engineering. Highly sociable people have their challenges as well.
Here’s the thing – I think both of these approaches can be meaningful and useful at the same time. First, I don’t think we should shy away from terms like “profound” or “severe”. This is how neuroscience generally works. Everyone does and should have some level of anxiety, for example. Anxiety is adaptive. But some people have “severe” anxiety – anxiety that takes on a life of its own, or transitions from being adaptive to maladaptive. I don’t want to minimize the language debate. Words matter. Sometimes we just don’t have the words that mean exactly what we need them to mean, without unwanted connotations. We need a word that can express the spectrum without unwanted assumptions or judgement. How about “extreme”? Extreme does not imply bad. You can be extremely athletic, and no one would think that is a negative thing. Even if autism is just atypical, being extremely autistic implies you are at one end of the spectrum.
Also, as with anxiety, optimal function is often a mean between two extremes. No anxiety means you take unnecessary risks. Too much anxiety can be crippling. Having mildly autistic features may just represent a different set of neurological tradeoffs, with some advantages and some challenges, and because it is atypical some accommodation in a society not optimized for this type. But as the features get more extreme, the downsides become increasingly challenging until you have a severe disability.
This reminds me also of paranoia. A little bit of paranoia can be seen as typical, healthy, and adaptive. A complete absence of any suspiciousness might make someone naive and vulnerable. People with above average paranoia might not even warrant a diagnosis – that is just a personality type, with strengths and weaknesses. But the more extreme you get, the more maladaptive it becomes. At the extreme end it is a criterion for schizophrenia.
Or perhaps this is all just too complex for the public-facing side of this diagnosis (regulation, public education, etc). Perhaps we need to become splitters, and break ASD up into three or more different labels. Researchers can still have and use a technical category name that recognizes an underlying neurological commonality, but that does not need to be inflicted on the public and cause confusion. Again – there is no objective right or wrong here, just different choices. As I think I amply demonstrated in my prior post, using one label (autism) causes a great deal of confusion and can be exploited by cranks. What often happens, though, is that different groups make up the labels for their own purposes. When researchers make the labels, they favor technical basic-science criteria. When clinicians do, they favor clinical criteria. When regulators do, they want nice clean categories.
Sometimes all these levels play nicely together. With ASD I feels as if they are in conflict, with the more research-based labels holding sway and causing confusion for everyone else.
At the same time there is a conflict between not imposing inaccurate and unnecessary judgement on a label like autism, while at the same time recognizing that can come with its own challenges that need just awareness at the mildest end of the spectrum, accommodation for those who experience challenges and have needs, and then actual treatment (if possible) at the more extreme end. These do not need to be mutually exclusive.
I do think we are evolving in a good direction, with more thoughtful diagnostic labels that explicitly serve a purpose without unnecessary assumptions or judgement. We may not be entirely there yet, but it’s a great conversation to have.
The post The Other End of the Autism Spectrum first appeared on NeuroLogica Blog.
Super mushrooms are claimed by some to provide vague health benefits beyond their known nutritional values.
Learn about your ad choices: dovetail.prx.org/ad-choicesOur current Medical Establishment doesn't seem to grasp that they are no longer just Fox News and Twitter celebrities who can comment from the sidelines as if they were passive observers.
The post Goodbye to the Novavax Vaccine? Our Flailing Medical Establishment Rejects Medical Freedom and Refuses to Fund Gold-Standard Science. first appeared on Science-Based Medicine.What will a human experience while standing on the surface of Saturn’s largest moon, Titan, even with the protection of a pressurized spacesuit? This is what a recent study presented at the 56th Lunar and Planetary Science Conference hopes to address as William O’Hara, who is the Executive Director of Explore Titan investigated what physical attributes a human will experience when standing on Titan’s surface. This study has the potential to help scientists, engineers, mission planners, and the public better understand the risks associated with sending humans to far-off worlds for long periods of time and how to develop technologies to mitigate these risks.
Star birth is a process hidden inside dense crèches of gas and dust. Yet, if you know what to look for, you can see the products of this essential cosmic process across the sky. The Circinus West molecular cloud is a starbirth crèche some 2,500 light-years away. It boasts everything from dark nebulae to protostellar objects and newborn stars to the faint ghosts of stars that have already died.