Monthly Archives: March 2015

Bonaire Photos: More

We are just about to post the photos of the setup process of the improved Box of Slugs 1.0, which will be known as BoS 1.1.  It will have two broodstock tanks, a hatchery and a sump/Bryopsis storage tank.  In the meantime, here are a few more photos from the January trip to Bonaire.  Nothing to do with slugs, but the photos are at least of marine organisms.  I hope you enjoy them.  As always, click on the images to enlarge.

Longlure frogfish on Bari Reef, Bonaire.

Longlure frogfish on Bari Reef, Bonaire.

Hawksbill and small green turtles on Bari Reef, Bonaire.

Hawksbill and small green turtles on Bari Reef, Bonaire.

Brain coral, Bari Reef. Joanna in background.

Brain coral, Bari Reef. Joanna in background.

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Coney seabass on sponge, lobster antennae extending from hole in background. Bonaire.

Healthy colony of staghorn (Acropora cervicornis). Bonaire.

Healthy colony of staghorn (Acropora cervicornis). Bonaire.

Sand diverlizardfish, Andrea I, Bonaire.

Sand diver lizardfish, Andrea I, Bonaire.

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Lionfish, Bonaire

Foureye butterfly fish, Salt Pier,Bonaire.

Foureye butterfly fish, Salt Pier,Bonaire.

Colorful Mussa coral, windward side of Bonaire.

Colorful Mussa coral, windward side of Bonaire.

 

Whitespotted filefish, Bari reef, Bonaire.

Whitespotted filefish, Bari reef, Bonaire.

Balloonfish, Andrea I, Bonaire.

Balloonfish, Andrea I, Bonaire.

Jawfish near mooring buoy, Alice in Wonderland, Bonaire.

Jawfish near mooring buoy, Alice in Wonderland, Bonaire.

Gorgonian scene, Bonaire.

Gorgonian scene, Bonaire.

Longsnout seahorse (Hippocampus reidi), Salt Pier, Bonaire.

Longsnout seahorse (Hippocampus reidi), Salt Pier, Bonaire.

Voracious iguana, Slaagbaai National Park, Bonaire.

Voracious iguana, Slaagbaai National Park, Bonaire.

Journal Club: A Sea Slug’s Guide to Plastid Symbiosis

The Elysia literature is rich, varied, and growing constantly.  From time to time, I will highlight a recent paper that strikes my fancy.

The paper of the moment is a recent review by de Vries and his colleagues that, from my point of view, demonstrates how the field of kleptoplasty in sacoglossans is maturing as a growing number of researchers apply diverse methods and approaches. Although I will summarize some of the highlights below, it is worth reading this short, nicely written paper for yourself (de Vries et al., 2014, Acta Soc Bot Pol 83: 415-421)

deVries cover

This paper illustrates a larger point that I have had to learn repeatedly during my career: as much as possible, one needs to look at the data and the biology, unfiltered by the way you think it should work.  Almost invariably, one generates a mental model to organize one’s observations about a biological system.  This model forms the basis for additional experiments, which can potentially support the model, but which almost always show you how naïve and simple your initial model was.  The model is essential to focus one’s thinking, but any biological system is more complex (and therefore more interesting) than your limited human mind can imagine.  So, there comes a time to listen to what the biology is telling you, and to think very hard about the next generation of models.

The paper by deVries and colleagues highlights that the field is at a point where researchers can, and must, think more deeply about the mechanisms and functions of kleptoplasty.  They lay out a series of fundamental unanswered questions regarding the biology of solar sacoglossans.

  1. How do the slugs sort the kleptoplasts from the stuff that gets digested? When sacoglossans feed, they pierce the wall of an algal cell with a specialized radullar tooth, and suck out the contents.  The extracted material contains mostly stuff the slugs will digest immediately (e.g., cytoplasm, nuclei, mitochondria), but also chloroplasts.  How does a slug’s digestive system handle the material, with chloroplasts segregated and moved from digestive organelles to the cytoplasm, where photosynthesis can continue?
  2. How are stolen plastids maintained? Despite initial reports of horizontal transfer of genes from the genomes of the plants to those of the slugs, more recent experiments indicate that this is not the case. So how are the kleptoplasts maintained in a functional state without an algal genome (remember, the nucleus was digested) to direct the synthesis of the structural proteins and enzymes needed to replace those that are constantly degraded?  Perhaps the kleptoplasts carry the capability with them, but the details remain mysterious.
  3. What is special about the biology of slug and algal species that participate in long-term retention (LTR) of chloroplasts for up to months at a time. There are seven species of sacoglossans known to be LTR slugs.  These seven slugs are not monophyletic (i.e., are not derived from a common ancestor), and vary in the details of their diets.  Some, like E. chlorotica, specialize on a single food plant, whereas others (e.g., E. clarki) feed on multiple species.  In some cases, LTR species feed on the same food plants as short-term retention (STR) species, which maintain plastids for only a few days or weeks (e.g., E. clarki vs. E. papillosa).  The slugs themselves, therefore must have some specializations to enable LTR.  However, in a given LTR species, retention times vary for kleptoplasts of different algal species.  These observations indicate that both the slugs and the algae have specializations, completely unknown at this point, that enable long-term survival of chloroplasts inside LTR slugs’ cells.
  4. Possibly the most fundamental question regards the functions of stolen chloroplasts: what good are kleptoplasts anyway? Multiple experiments have demonstrated that photosynthesis alone cannot support slug survival in the long term, and it is currently unclear whether starch produced by photosynthesizing kleptoplasts even enters the slugs’ cytoplasm. One hypothesis is that the plastids serve as “living larders,” being digested as needed by the slugs during periods of starvation. Kleptoplasts may also produce biochemicals needed by the slugs. For example it has been suggested that juveniles may depend on kleptoplast-derived lipids during their development.  It is surprising that the function of long-term kleptoplasty remains mysterious so many years after its discovery.
  5. I wanted to end with an issue that the authors touched on briefly, that of photobehavior. Experiments have been performed examining phototaxis and parapodial extension in response to light, with the interpretation of the data being strongly influenced by the assumption that the behaviors support photosynthesis in some way. This issue is of particular interest to me, and, although a full discussion of the literature must await a future post, a lot of the data are not really consistent with the behaviors serving to optimize photosynthesis.  Like, why aren’t slugs most active in mid-day, or why do they seem to be most affected by wavelengths in the middle part of the spectrum that are nearly useless for photosynthesis?  From my point of view, some hard thinking about experimental design and interpretation are in order.

The paper ends with a quote from Ed Yong that echoes my introduction to this blog post, but is much more eloquent: “Science is about resisting the easy pull of conclusions.  It’s about testing stories that seem like they should be right to see if they actually are right.”

As the study of kleptoplasty evolves from “gosh, wow, a photosynthetic slug” to a more complex and interesting view of the animals’ biology, the questions become more focused and more sophisticated.  It will be fun to watch, and with a little time and effort, participate in the process.

Origin Myth, Part 2

At the end of Part 1, I had discovered Elysia diomedea, and the seed was planted about diverting possible future research toward marine organisms.

A lot of changes were occurring before and during 2012.  The event that probably had the most impact was the death of my long-time mentor and Lab Chief, Howard Nash, in 2011.  Aside from the emotional consequences of such a loss, there were also the practical details associated with the closure of the lab.  Papers needed to be finished, and I needed to chart the next stage of my career.

Howard Nash, pushing flies

In retrospect, it was a great opportunity to ask myself what I would do if I could do anything I wanted.  Well, almost anything.  Astronaut or dinosaur hunter, for example, were pretty much off the table.  In the end, the direction that most excited me was teaching at the university level, hopefully with the possibility of sneaking in a little research with the undergraduates.

As luck would have it, a lecturer position in physiology and neurobiology (my two areas of expertise) opened at the Universities at Shady Grove campus of the University of Maryland College Park.  I was pleased, relieved, and amazed to be offered the position, and then overwhelmed with the amount of work that it took to do a credible job teaching undergraduate lecture and lab courses.  In the back of my mind, though, I continued thinking about involve students in studying an interesting and relevant question.

One of the first questions regarded which organism to study.  I had spent the previous 20 years or so studying Drosophila, which is a marvelous organism with an enormous experimental toolkit.  It is also extremely small (not so good for most aspects of neurophysiology) and is being studied by close to a gazillion people.  Hard to find a niche for a shoestring operation in that melee.

I had become excited about Nematostella, a little mud-dwelling anemone that is becoming an increasingly popular model organism for the study of development, genetics, and evolution of cnidarians.  These animals have a simple nervous system that may resemble that of our earliest multicellular ancestors.  It seemed like studying the activity and connections in the nervous system could provide fundamental insight into how nervous systems evolved.  They are easy to keep, and the Nematostella community is very enthusiastic and supportive.  Recording electrical activity from the teeny neurons in the Nematostella nervous system, however, was somewhat more ambitious than was practical with the available resources.

Nematostella vectensis, May 2011.

Nematostella vectensis, May 2011.

Elysia should have been the obvious choice from the beginning.  They are sizable molluscs, and molluscs are known for large, easily identifiable neurons that are accessible to relatively simple recording techniques.  There was even a small literature regarding neurobiology of E. chlorotica.  Furthermore, E. chlorotica had been reported in the Chesapeake Bay, so it seemed like an excellent way of making a connection between work in the lab on campus and the local ecology.

A plan was forming: Behavior and ecology with E. diomedea in Bahia, physiology and ecology with E. chlorotica in Maryland.

After finishing the 2014 spring semester at UM, I was again lucky enough to be able to join Ocean Discovery at Bahia de los Angeles.  Professional and personal obligations left me with less time for planning than I would have liked, but I had developed two questions for the trip.  First, is E. diomedea attracted to light, as one might expect of a photosynthetic organism?  This would lay the groundwork for more detailed experiments on spectral preference and neural circuitry.  Second, what does the slug eat?  Surprisingly, that was not (and is still not) known.  Almost all other Elysia species eat green macroalgae, but E. diomedea was rumored to feed upon Padina, a brown alga with which the slug is commonly associated.

The plan was simple: collect a small group of E. diomedea as soon as possible, and perform behavioral assays.  This was to be followed by a workshop in which I would enlist the students to help extract the chlorophylls from the slugs and perform paper chromatography to separate the pigments and compare them to those of local algae species.  I brought my electrophysiology kit, along with some LEDs and a controller for phototaxis assays, and managed (with a lot of help from Dr Talley and several trips to Dixieline Hardware), to collect the solvents, tubes, paper and other items required for chromatography.

Sadly, Drew was unable to travel down to Bahia that year.  That cost me the opportunity to spend time with a friend and colleague, and it meant that he would not be able to supervise the students studying the movement of energy from the sea to the islands (“spatial subsidy,” a.k.a. “Energy Transfer”).  Although I was far from a perfect substitute, I had spent a few summers observing, and had an adequate theoretical overview of the project, so I offered to help out with the students and staff for the few weeks I was there.  (Be patient, this will eventually be relevant to the slug project.)

The silver lining was that I was able to spend every morning out on the islands with the students.  On the trip out, there was something exciting to see almost every morning.   Dolphins, whales, sea lions and whale sharks all greeted us at one time or another.

Sea Lions Basking in Bahia de los Angeles

Sea Lions Basking in Bahia de los Angeles

Plus, the islands themselves were spectacular, and it was invigorating just to be on them.

Ocean Discovery Students on the Island of Fletcha

Ocean Discovery Students on the Island of Flecha, summer 2014.  Jorobado island in Background.

So I got to spend mornings pretending to be a biological oceanographer.  Afternoons were filled with a variety of tasks, but I tried to spend as much time as possible snorkeling in pursuit of Elysia.  (See, I told you we would return to sea slugs.).  Based on how quickly I had found them the previous summer, I fully expected to have a small pile of them in short order.  Strangely, though, there seemed to be none to be found.  I combed areas heavily grown with Padina (the potential food plant mentioned above), other areas with Codium (“dead man’s fingers,” another potential food plant), rocky areas with turf algae, but found no slugs. I looked in the shallows, and as deep as was practical with a snorkel and a few weights.  Nothing.

After almost a week, it became rather distressing.  Reviewing Hans Bertsch’s work on the distribution of opisthobranchs in Bahia de los Angeles, I noticed that there had been a steady decline during the years of his study, which worried me a bit.  Were conditions deteriorating in some way, so that E. diomedea was increasingly scarce in the bay?  Also, he had not mentioned collecting as far south as we were, so maybe conditions were not as good at our field station.  But I had found them the previous year…

The breakthrough came on a day when the students were working at the station, so we did not have to get on a boat to the islands first thing in the morning.  With a little free time, it seemed like a great opportunity for more slug hunting, even if my optimism was starting to fade.  I was pleasantly surprised to find one of the little guys within a relatively short period.  So surprised, in fact, that I had forgotten to bring any sort of container, which led to a comical juggling act of carrying a small, squishy creature back to shore in large clumsy hands.  Given their apparent rarity, the little gal was extremely valuable, and losing her would have been a huge blow.  She made it back to shore, and got her own spacious plastic tub with an airstone for circulation.  For good measure, I added a small rock with a collection of possible food plants.  Below is a photo of her, with a ruler to provide the appearance of scientific rigor.

Elysia diomedea, Bahia de los Angeles

Elysia diomedea, Bahia de los Angeles

The following morning was also available for snorkeling, and I promptly collected three more Elysia.  Although it might have been coincidence, finding four animals during a relatively short period of collecting in the morning, compared to finding zero after several hours of hunting in the exact same area during afternoons, suggests that it was the time of day, rather than the location or long-term trends, that was the important factor in success.

In retrospect, it makes sense that the slugs were most exposed in the morning.  My working model when I started the project was that “solar sea slugs” would be strongly dependent on light, and maximize their exposure by lolling about in the afternoon sun.  Recent work indicates that, despite the presence of kleptoplasts, the slugs depend almost entirely on feeding for their energy and nutrition.  My captive slugs seem to be (note that this is fully anecdotal at the moment) at their most active, especially regarding egg laying and general exploration, in the evening and early morning.  The rest of their time is mostly spent face down in their food plants, like so many squishy, aquatic cows.

The remaining time allowed for a few experiments, including a quick and dirty look at phototaxis and spectral preference.  Unsurprisingly, they are attracted to light, and appear to prefer the long wavelengths, such as the orange shown below.  The experiment was pretty crude, but the results match what had previously been shown for other species.

Elysia on orange LED.

Elysia on orange LED.

This almost closes the genesis of the Elysia project, and gets us just about to the beginning of the Solar Sea Slug Blog.  I left Bahia knowing much more about the behavior and anatomy of Elysia than when I had arrived, and realized that the little slugs were much more complex than would be expected of “crawling leaves.”

Back in Maryland, I was ready to start hunting for local E. chlorotica in the Chesapeake.  An email exchange with Dr. Sidney Pierce, now Professor Emeritus at the University of South Florida quickly disabused me of the idea.  In his opinion, reports of that species, and its food plant, here are dubious.

Perhaps it was just as well.  E. clarki is easily available and easy to fatten up on nuisance algae, and E. papillosa may be smaller, but appears to have similarly broad preferences and a rapid generation time (which will be the subject of a future post).

Very Odd Sacoglossan

In the previous post, I mentioned that there are at least five species of slugs in Box of Slugs 2.0.  Four Elysia species were described in that post, but the one in the picture below is odd enough to warrant its own spotlight.  This tiny beauty was clearly different from the Elysia, having branched rhinophores, and being adorned with cerata, outgrowths from the dorsal surface. It is more reclusive than the others, rarely making its presence known except for the occasional appearance in the early morning before lights-on.  It is also very quick to become scarce, diving behind or into a clump of algae, if the lights come on when it is out and about.  These behaviors, combined with my limitations as a photographer, explains the quality of the images so far.

Sacoglossan with cerata in Box of Slugs 2

Mystery slug with cerata in Box of Slugs 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I first saw this creature, with its frilly cerata, I believed it to be a nudibranch.  In general, marine aquarists are not pleased about seeing nudibranchs in their tanks.  They tend to be specialist predators, focusing on one or a few species of prey items.  Prey can be sponges, bryozoans, corals, or even other molluscs.  As a result, nudibranchs can either be pests, destroying prized species, or, more likely, will starve to death in the absence of preferred foods

I had removed the slug to a small container, and was debating its fate, when Joanna made it clear that killing the slug was the less preferred option.  Realizing that I did not yet know what I was dealing with, I took a few macro shots and started to go through field guides.  Looking more closely, I realized that it was not a nudibranch, but a sacoglossan like Elysia.  The lack of external gills on the posterior end (see photo below) mean that this animal is not a nudibranch, and the combination of cerata and branched rhinophores suggest that it is a species of Cyerce.  Cyerce antillensis comes from the right part of the world to have ridden in on some macroalgae, and it lives on Penicillus, so it is a promising candidate.  It is a variable species, and is the closest match I have found so far, but I have not yet seen a photo of Cyerce antillensis that is convincingly similar to our slug. In any case, the slug was returned to the Box of Slugs as a harmless curiosity.

3532_cyerce_dorsal_sm

Sacoglossan with cerata, dorsal

The photos above and below show a body filled with green stuff, presumably chloroplasts removed from its food plant(s).  According to the literature, however, Cyerce is not kleptoplastic.

With time and luck, opportunities for better photographs will present themselves.  Who knows, there may even be enough of them to start seeing young ones.

Sacoglossan with cerata, ventral

Sacoglossan with cerata, ventral

Sacoglossan, possibly Cyerce, B.o.S 2.0, 3/7/15

Sacoglossan, possibly Cyerce, B.o.S 2.0, 3/7/15

 

When two species turn into five

An interesting exercise in how parsimony and preconceptions can mislead.

As the most recent posts suggest, slugs have been added, and have appeared, in Box of Slugs 2.0.  Here is a streamlined sequence of events from my point of view.

The tank was set up, and slugs (E. clarki) & macroalgae (Penicillus, Udotea and Avrainvillea) were purchased from a collector. A few days after the new organisms settled in, we left for a little over a week.  After we got back (as described here), not only were there some E. clarki eggs masses (one of which I watched being deposited), but also some tiny sluglets.  Logical conclusion: the small slugs were baby E. clarki.  The timing seemed a bit off, because the youngsters appeared a little too soon based on the incubation times observed for E. clarki in Box of Slugs 1.0 (about 16-17 days), but [mutter about temperature or previously deposited eggs or something].

As the little guys grew, they looked like they might be more than one species (see this post), and the one that looked most closely like E. clarki stilll did not look quite right.  Maybe the big, ruffly parapodia develop as they mature?  Are they really laying eggs at such a small size? Although I did not know what baby E. clarki looked like, suspicions were becoming aroused.

It all came into focus over the past week, as a sizable cohort of baby slugs appeared and started to grow quickly on a diet of Bryopsis.  What do baby E. clarki look like?  It turns out that they look like little teeny versions of their parents, complete with broad, ruffly parapodia and loosely rolled rhinophores.

Very small E. clarki in Box of Slugs 2.0.  2/24/15

Very small E. clarki in Box of Slugs 2.0. 2/24/15

Baby E. clarki, dorsal view

Baby E. clarki, dorsal view

Baby Elysia clarki, ventral view. 2/27/15

Baby Elysia clarki, ventral view. 2/27/15

Baby E. clarki, dorsal view.

Baby E. clarki on Derbesia, dorsal view.

No doubt, they look like tiny versions of the adults lumbering around the tank.  They may have hatched from eggs laid by one of the residents, or from a clutch of almost fully developed eggs that I added a week or so back.

It turns out that, rather than the two species of slugs that were purchased from KP Aquatics, we have five.  The adult clarki and crispata that I purchased are the real deal.  Both species have the same general shape, with ruffly parapodia and loosely rolled rhinophores.  Both are very fond of Bryopsis, at least in captivity.

E. clarki are uniformly green with white spots, and seem to grow and thrive better than the other species in their captive algal world.

E. clarki in Box of Slugs 1.0

E. clarki in Box of Slugs 1.0

E. crispata may be the the glamour slug of the tank.  The bluish hue and large white spots make these slugs very eye-catching.

3692_crispata

Elysia crispata in Box of Slugs 2.0.

After looking at a lot of photos, especially at the Sea Slug Forum, I have identified the other species with some confidence.  What I had originally identified as E. clarki is most likely E. papillosa.  Looking at it side by side with E. clarki in the photo below, it is clearly not the same species.  The parapodia of E. papillosa are much smaller and simpler, the rhinophores are pinkish and more tightly rolled, and the spots are smaller and more sparse.  Unlike clarki and crispata, papillosa does not appear particularly fond of Bryopsis, preferring to hang out and feed on Penicillus most of the time. Another interesting difference is that E. papillosa uses its parapodia to swim from time to time.  Despite hundreds of hours of observations of E. clarki, including the slugs floating in the water column, I have never seen them use their parapodia for propulsion.  Maybe the less elaborate parapodia are more useful for swimming (think using a square dancing skirt vs a wedding dress).

3585_clarki&papilosa

Large adult E. clarki (left) with presumed E. papillosa (right).

The final Elysia species, which has very small parapodia, is presumed to be E. tuca.  The bright green coloration, the white rhinophores and the white areas on the head, along with the small parapodia, are anatomical features of E. tuca.  Combined with the species tendency to spend its time on Halimeda and its common occurrence in the Florida Keys, where I assume the algae were collected by KP Aquatics, and it’s a pretty good bet that these are E. tuca, and that they rode in with the first shipment of macroalgae.  They show no interest in Bryopsis, spending most of their time associated with Halimeda, and making the occasional trip to Penicillus or Avrainvillea.

Elysia tuca (left) and E. papillosa (right) on Penicillus that has been overgrazed and overgrown.

Elysia tuca (left) and E. papillosa (right) on Penicillus that has been overgrazed and overgrown.

The different species wander around the tank constantly, but tend to focus on their food plants.

A trio of Elysia: papillosa (left), crispata(top),  and tuca (bottom right)

A trio of Elysia: papillosa (left), crispata(top), and tuca (bottom right)

As far as I can tell, they do not interact socially.  In the photo below, E. tuca crawls over E. crispata as it would any other obstacle.

3712_dogpile

E. papillosa, crispata and tuca, making a dogpile.

So, rather than the two species of Elysia I purchased, there are four species.  On top of that, at least a few of them are reproducing successfully.  Not bad.

But didn’t I mention five species?  There is one more sacoglossan species in the tank that has not been discussed. Although the species above are interesting enough in their own right, the final species warrants a post of its own.

Stay tuned.