Once upon a time there were four little Rabbits Dwarves ailments, and their names were Dropsy, Croupsy, Consumption, and Pleurisy. Pleurisy, who was very naughty painful, ran straight away to Mr McGregor’s garden thoracic cavity, and squeezed under the gate ribcage and intercostal muscles. Mr. McGregor’s physician came up with a sieve thoracentesis needle, which she intended to pop combine with antibiotics to treat ….

OK, enough of that silliness. It occurred to me, as we move our anatomy lab dissection focus from the head and neck to the thorax, that the latter is the especial territory of debilitating ailments that feature prominently in Victorian literature and the confinement/suffering/deaths of characters therein. I’ve also come to the realization that specializing, anatomy instruction-wise, in the often tricksy dissection of (relatively) tiny head and neck structures was perhaps a mistake. The thorax dissections go much more quickly. There is, however, the disturbing and paradoxical matter of a malformation of the thoracic inlet causing something known as thoracic outlet syndrome. Go figure.

For the last head and neck practical exam, I had several requests from the students for particular groups of animals, including Arctic animals and deep sea fish, which I was happy to oblige:

In other news, I can has published Futures story! \o/

Sometimes I think that the “professor” part of my academic title is simply an abbreviation for “professional dissector”. Friday was one such day, in which I spent three hours in the morning dissecting superior cervical and dorsal root ganglia from E12.5 mouse embryos, for a neuronal apoptosis experiment. The afternoon was filled with four hours assisting students with dissection and identification of deep neck structures in their anatomy lab cadavers. The first type of dissection is done with the aid of a Zeiss stereo microscope, and accomplished whilst sitting. The second type of dissecting involves a lot of standing and bending over tanks, as well as moving from group to group, drawing nerve and artery diagrams on the chalkboard, and explaining the anatomy.

Sharp lab instruments

On the left are the instruments that I use for my microdissections of ganglia and other nervous system tissues. On the right are a few instruments that I use in head and neck dissections in gross anatomy lab, as well as my notes and drawings for the deep neck structures and subclavian artery.

After spending most of the work day wielding sharp instruments, I came home and prepared vegetables for roasting and for mushroom gravy (a Hobbitish dinner), using a different set of sharp instruments:

Kitchen sharp instruments, plus vegetables

Not one cut in either lab session all day, and yet I managed to gouge a chunk of flesh out of my thumb, with the ceramic vegetable peeler shown above. There’s a lesson in that experience, somewhere.

When you spend the day dissecting with sharp instruments, just make a fried egg sandwich for dinner.

One of my enduring problems with intriguing preliminary data, yielded by pilot experiments, is that I tend to be overly ambitious with the subsequent ratio of data acquisition to data analysis, especially if I’m using a technique that’s new to me. For various reasons/hypotheses, related both to the variable expressivity of an inherited cancer syndrome and to therapy-induced malignancies, I decided to compare DNA damage sensitivity and repair capacity in tumor and primary cells of the peripheral nervous system. My preliminary data indicated that the ability to repair DNA damage, induced by doxorubicin treatment or gamma radiation, varied according to the genetic background of the tumor, and to the age of the animal. Two different projects (and hopefully two publications in different journals), but the same technique: single-cell gel electrophoresis, or the comet assay.

Comets, peripheral nerve sheath tumor cell line

Last October, I wrote a post about the totems that I draw on the chalkboards, to guide students through their gross anatomy practical exams. The first such exam for the freshman medical students this year is scheduled for next Tuesday, and I’m soliciting suggestions for new animals to incorporate into my chalk menagerie.

Ideally, I’d like to incorporate more prehistoric animals into my repertoire this year, and more birds, fish, and reptiles. Invertebrates aren’t out of the question either; my current list is very mammal-intensive, but mammals are in general quite popular with the students.

Keep in mind that my drawings are necessarily simplified, because I have to render them on greasy (don’t ask) chalkboards, using sidewalk chalk, in a limited period of time. Here is the list of non-mythological animals that I have drawn as totems to date:

• gray squirrel
• weasel
• sea otter
• porcupine
• beaver (with felled tree)
• armadillo
• free-tailed bat
• opossum
• polar bear
• grizzly bear
• spotted hyena
• giraffe
• leopard
• African elephant
• gelada baboon
• aardvark
• warthog
• common genet
• rhinoceros
• hippopotamus
• tarsier
• pangolin
• quagga
• giant anteater
• red kangaroo
• narwhal
• flounder
• seahorse
• hammerhead shark
• giant squid
• emperor penguin
• toucan
• gecko
• American alligator
• diamondback rattlesnake
• stegosaurus
• saber-toothed cat

One of the four rooms always has mythological animals, but I’m more interested in suggestions for the other three rooms. It would be great to have an entire room with prehistoric animals. Also, there will be several more practical exams throughout the next half-year, so I can incorporate many new suggestions.

One of the most beautiful local bird species is the Golden-cheeked Warbler (Dendroica chrysoparia), with a breeding season range limited to 33 Central Texas counties. These insect-eating birds favor nesting habitat that consists of mature Ashe Juniper (blueberry cedar, Juniperus ashei) mixed with oak, ash, pecan, hackberry, or bigtooth maple. In particular, Golden-cheeked Warblers require a moderate to heavy density of older junipers that create an upper canopy and, more importantly, shed bark that these birds use to construct their nests. The broad-leaved trees and shrubs in the warblers’ woodland habitat shelter the caterpillars, beetles, and other insects on which the birds feed. An estimated 5 to 20 acres of mixed juniper-oak woodland comprise the nesting and foraging territory for each pair of Golden-cheeked Warblers.

Mixed juniper woodland, Lost Maples State Natural Area, Bandera County, Texas

The endangered status of the Golden-cheeked Warbler can be attributed almost exclusively to habitat loss and fragmentation. Historically, habitat was destroyed to improve rangeland for livestock, and stands of juniper trees were cut for fence posts and other timber products. Seedling oaks were lost to browsing deer and goats, and floodplains along creeks and canyons were converted to farmland for forage crops and pasture. More recently, warbler habitat has been destroyed as a result of urban development and sprawl, particularly in Bexar and Travis counties. Moreover, many landowners view the Ashe Juniper as a water-hogging tree species that should be eradicated, particularly in the canyon and wash woodlands favored by the Golden-cheeked Warblers. Nest parasitism by the Brown-headed Cowbird may also contribute to declining warbler populations.

Ashe Juniper needles and berries, and Golden-cheeked Warbler; Micron pen, Prismacolor, and Caran d’Ache watercolor pencil

Golden-cheeked Warblers return to Central Texas, from their wintering sites in Chiapas (Mexico), Guatemala, and Honduras, in early March. There are numerous places to see these birds near San Antonio, including Lost Maples SNA, Government Canyon SNA, Hill Country SNA, and Friedrich Wilderness Park. Recovery efforts are also underway on Department of Defense property at Camp Bullis and Fort Hood.

References:

Golden-cheeked warbler. Texas Parks and Wildlife Department. www.tpwd.state.tx.us/…/pwd_bk_w7000_0013_golden_cheeked_warbler.pdf

Because I’m very interested in art journals and the process of drawing, I recently purchased three books about creativity and sketching: two by Danny Gregory, and one by Richard Bell. Although all three encourage a spontaneity and quickness in drawing that may seem to be at odds with a scientific approach, there is also a substantial amount of discussion and exhibition of careful observation and attention to detail. Through having (sometimes uncharacteristically heated and emotional) arguments with, and learning from, professional artists over the years, I’ve begun to relinquish some of the tight grip on realistic and precise representation in my drawings, but, after reading these three books, I feel somewhat vindicated in retaining a certain amount of detailed observation and verisimilitude.

Danny Gregory worked in the advertising business in New York City, and when his wife Patti, a stylist, was paralyzed after falling under a subway train, he began drawing as an antidote to the depression, anger, and self-pity that he felt. Everyday Matters is an illustrated diary that chronicles the development of Danny’s journaling style, as well as his family’s struggles to rebuild their happy, productive lives together. The Creative License is a much more extensive and detailed “how-to” manual for adopting the drawing and visual journaling practices into your own daily life. As a person who produces an average of at least one or two drawings each day, I skimmed through the first chapter on Drawing, so it’s difficult for me determine whether it’s sufficient to entice someone to begin sketching regularly. I found all the subsequent chapters, however, to be very engaging, and to encourage me to explore new subjects for my drawings, even if I’m unlikely to change my methods radically. I found the second chapter, on Journaling, to be reassuring, as I was beginning to worry that filling multiple journals with sketches and paintings was a bit … well, weird. I loved the chapters on Judgment and Identity as well, and the book is filled with Gregory’s own drawings of everything under the sun, as well as samples from the journals of other artists. For me, drawing in a journal is a natural, circadian activity, though it will take some discipline for me to add as much text and description as do Gregory and his art journaling colleagues. You can visit Danny Gregory’s blog here.

Two quick sketches in my traveling art journal. Ballpoint pen and Caran d’Ache watercolor pencil

Richard Bell is one of Danny Gregory’s drawing pals; he lives in Yorkshire, and has a lovely nature diary website as well. I would have made a special trip north, when I was in the UK, to attend one of his workshops. Richard Bell’s style and subjects are more akin to my own, though he, like Gregory, is a master of the quick sketch, whereas I am rather slower. That being said, I found a lot of very useful nature journaling tips in Bell’s charming little book, Drawing on Reserves. It contains advice on art materials and on using watercolors, in the contexts of depicting natural objects such as stones and plants. There are also numerous examples of Bell’s sketches of birds, plants, and landscapes. I think the most important take-home lesson for me, from all three books, is never to be caught empty-handed, without a sketchbook and drawing instrument. The worst that can happen is that someone will ask to see what you’re drawing, which is really not so bad (unless you’re sketching an unflattering portrait).

Many of my distant and not-so-distant ancestors were dependent on horses for transportation and for labor, and spent much of their days working with and caring for their animals. Every once in awhile, I have the chance to experience a 21st century version of this lifestyle over a brief weekend, by traveling with one of my horses to a polocrosse tournament in central Texas. Polocrosse is a sort of hybrid between polo and lacrosse, developed in Australia, and imported to the US within the past few decades. It is a sport well-suited for the equestrian inhabitants of rangeland, such as South Australians, Texans, and the Rohirrim – plenty of galloping and bravado and racquet-smacking and dust.

Nevertheless, we are 21st century humans, who do not venture into the wilds northeast of Austin without our iPhones, Gatorade, or folding chairs … nor without large living quarters trailers, equipped with plumbing and electricity, like the one my friends have (in the photo below). The trailer also has a roll-out awning that creates a porch, and I’m fairly certain that my horsepeople ancestors did not lounge around in the shade during the heat of the day, drinking chilled Perrier and reading European crime fiction. This weekend’s polocrosse tournament was an informal play-day, and because daytime temperatures top out at 101-105°F, we play our matches at night, from 7:30PM to 1:00AM, on a lighted field (you can see the lights in the photo below). The horses stay in temporary pens created with electrified tape, or with portable fence panels, and are provided with plenty of water, coastal hay, and electrolyte supplements, added to their grain. Humans stay in trailers or in tents, and I always opt for a tent, because the stars in a clear Texas night sky, once the field and trailer lights are turned off, are spectacular. You know, deep in the heart of Texas, and all that. Nighttime temperatures are usually in the 70s in the summer, and perfectly comfortable. I’ve also camped out at tournaments in the winter, when temperatures can dip close to freezing, but with a decent sleeping bag it’s really not unpleasant to sleep outdoors for a couple of nights.

Team meeting over breakfast.
(Sorry for the poor-quality photo; I think I need to clean my iPhone or its case.)

On Saturday morning, a swarm of honey bees swirled through the assembled trailers, tents, and horse pens, and although they were not aggressive, they created a lot of havoc. Bee swarms develop when the colony becomes overcrowded, and the old queen takes most of the workers to relocate to a new site. There are scouts and “streaker bees” associated with the swarm, who organize the search. Since there isn’t yet a hive to defend, the workers are not aggressive when swarming, and throughout the whole swarming incident, I don’t think anyone was stung.

After buzzing the trailers and horses a few times, the queen bee and her swarm settled on the bumper of a pickup truck, under the tailgate, in a mass that was about 8 inches in diameter. The truck owner drove off to have the bees removed, leaving behind a number of disoriented workers from the swarm (or perhaps returning scouts). These bees bothered our horses – not by stinging them, apparently, but the horses just didn’t like the bees. They shuddered and stomped and kicked and bucked in their pens, and at one point, the beephobic horse on the right ran through the center lines of (barely) electrified tape, threatening to pull down the entire pen. I secured the perimeter first, but then had two mares and two geldings in the same large pen, with the center dividers collapsed. All these horses know each other well, live in adjoining paddocks 24/7, and as you can see in the photo, co-exist peacefully when there are boundaries. The two mares, on the left in the photo (the one in the foreground is my horse), cornered the beephobic gelding and proceeded to bite his neck. Not in a nice way, either. I finally got the horses separated, and restored the center lines in the pen, and (relative) peace returned to the afternoon.

In spite of the heat and dust, it was lovely to spend the weekend outdoors, engaged in fun activities, for the most part. In addition to the honey bees, we saw numerous other examples of Texas wildlife, including Whitetail Deer, Turkey Vultures, White-winged Doves, and Common Egrets. However, with a severe drought, and unusually extended periods of 100°F+ daytime temperatures, I wonder how much longer such activities will be possible in Central Texas. I suspect polocrosse players in Australia may be wondering the same thing about their sport.

Smaug, the Ford F-250 pickup truck, has been unable to fly from the Lonely Mountain my driveway for the past several weeks, due to what I had fervently hoped was una batería descargada. Fortuitously, an ad for a mobile car repair service appeared this weekend, taped to the cluster mailbox, and I hoped that the mechanic could save me a towing fee. I had to pay for the truck to be towed once, because of a flat tire; before I’m chastised for not changing the tire myself, I’ll point out that a) this is a massive truck that weighs over 6000 pounds, and b) I’m perfectly capable of changing a tire on my Honda Accord, and have done so, without assistance, twice. So, nyah.

I felt pretty certain that the battery was the problem, as I discovered corroded battery posts and leads when I opened the bonnet hood (bruising the back of my hand in the process … I think I would like working on cars if it weren’t for mashed fingers and bruised hands). I tried cleaning the posts with baking soda and water, but that didn’t work, and it made a mess on the driveway. I also tried to disconnect the leads, but that led, inevitably, to mashed fingers and barked knuckles; in any case, I doubt I could have lifted the heavy-duty battery out of its compartment. The battery is over five years old, it’s been beastly hot here for weeks, and the combination of evaporation and sulfation had killed it. Hot weather is actually tougher on car batteries than is cold weather.

Nighttime, dusk, and dawn are best for outdoor activities, during a South Texas summer plagued by drought and triple-digit temperatures. Some mammals adopt this pattern year round, and are well-suited to the local environment. One such creature is the Blacktail Jackrabbit, or Desert Hare, found throughout the western US and Mexico. If you are outdoors around dawn or dusk, you might catch this jackrabbit feeding, on cactus, mesquite, sagebrush, or perhaps clover, but during daylight hours it’s likely that you’ve disturbed the hare from its scrape. This sudden appearance of a bounding jackrabbit provides a very good excuse for your horse to feign terror and spook in a calculated and annoying manner.

Blacktail Jackrabbit, Lepus californicus. Prismacolor pencil and Caran D’Ache watercolor pencil.

In addition to the swallows and nighthawks that I described in a previous post, Mexican Freetail Bats accompany my late evening walks through the neighborhood, with my dog. Sometimes there are dozens of them, fluttering over a narrow stretch of boulevard that’s about half a mile in length. The human cochlea can detect at least some of their chirps – pit, pit, pit; I’m not sure whether other bat species would sound much different to us. There are very large colonies of freetail bats under bridges in Austin and San Antonio, and in caves throughout the Hill Country. The presence of a cave – particularly a cave with a bat colony – on your rural property will increase its value; fortunately, it seems that most Texans have a positive opinion of the freetail bats, and support their conservation. Anne-Marie Hodge has a fascinating post on aging and senescence in bat species that’s definitely worth reading.

Mexican Freetail Bat, Tadarida brasiliensis. Prismacolor pencil and Caran D’Ache watercolor pencil.

Cognitive functions slowed by extremely hot weather, so here is a silly quiz.

Examine the three photos of altered books in my possession, and identify the phylum, class, order, genus, and, indeed, species – if you can – of the vandal destructive pest hooligan book artist.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B, The Once and Future King … Tasty!

Exhibit C, Sometimes a Great Notion … to destroy a book!

Prizes? Maybe. Still owe Richard Wintle an artwork. [/indolent]

Note: Coffee stain visible in Exhibits A and B was accomplished by Homo sapiens texaniensis and Coffea arabica.