Gentle Giants

Both whales and porpoises are intelligent mammals who, millions of years ago, decided to evolve from a land critter back to one of the sea. That was an interesting return to life's origins—the sea. All of life began in the oceans and for a few billion years resided solely there, until some fish-like creatures crawled up on land, over 350 million years ago, and took up residence as terrestrial animals. Over time, mammals and many other species of animals evolved from those primitive, limbless, cold-blooded vertebrates; and then even later some of them (whales and porpoises) decided to return to the seas.

Whales subsequently evolved to become the largest animals on the planet—especially the blue whale, which at some 110 feet (33 m) long and 150 tons (136,000 kg), is the largest critter ever. Porpoises and dolphins are related to whales—both of which are often defined as “small-toothed whales.” The porpoise has a blunt snout and the dolphin a beaklike snout. Whales, dolphins, and porpoises are also called cetaceans, which is derived from the Greek word ketos, “whale.”

What's more, these cetaceans are very intelligent creatures, whose languages are far more complex than our simple human communication. Yes, that's right... their language is much more intricate than ours. In fact, the density of the information in their songs is such that they can transmit up to 10 million bits of data every half hour. That's about the same amount of information contained in Homer's Odyssey. So, within a half hour, they sing to each other the same amount of data that takes us a few days to read. Pretty smart, eh?

It seems sadly paradoxical that we humans have hunted down and slaughtered millions of whales, over the centuries. We obviously don't take into consideration their intelligence or their sophisticated communication, when we kill them. We don't view them as bright creatures—just as food.

What I find fascinating is that whales, being so much larger and more powerful than humans, have not used their advanced communication and brainpower to revolt and declare war on us. Scuba divers swim around whales that are up to 20 times larger and outweigh them by tens of thousands of times—yet aren't harmed. One flip of that powerful whale tail and the human is extinguished. Yet when we are in the water with them, cetaceans are overwhelmingly friendly.

Why should they be so gentle? Given how badly we've treated them, I find it remarkable that they've not turned on us. Why do they not perceive us as their enemy? They must be able to comprehend all the harm we've done to them. If they had chosen to battle us, we long ago would either have made peace with them, or eliminated them entirely—which we've done with many large land mammals. It seems to me that we could use a few lessons in nonviolence from these gentle giants. Too bad we're not smart enough to understand their language. They'd probably have a few useful things to tell us.

Allokataplixis Awe

So what is that impressive six-syllable word in the title trying to say? It's a sure bet you won't find it in any dictionary you might have, as it's been recently coined by Professor Liam Heneghan of DePaul University in Chicago. Why did he invent such a clumsy moniker, and what does it mean? Professor Heneghan wanted to express the wonder that we experience, when we encounter novel things in a foreign land—things whose residents have long ago learned to ignore. Fresh eyes often see fascinating features that accustomed eyes don't.

The professor noticed this phenomenon when he began taking some of his college students on a visit to Ireland each year. Having been born and raised on the Emerald Isle himself, but a long-time resident of the US, his eyes were neither fresh nor any longer habituated to Irish peculiarities, such as the smell of the air, eccentric architecture, local expressions, and novel foods. But his students marveled at and delighted in these and many other small things they'd never before seen.

So he coined the word allokataplixis, which is a conjunction of two Greek words: allo, meaning “other,” and katapliktiko, meaning “wonder.” He feels that the word captures the amazement and fascination that his students expressed so many times during their visits to Ireland.

I immediately identified with and was struck by this idea, as it describes a feeling I've had, whenever visiting a place I've never been before. There are so many details that capture my attention—details I find myself photographing or listing in my travel journal, each night. I often later chuckle at how many of these features are really quite ordinary, and thus become rather invisible to me, after a few days.

Sure, the magnificent views that I hoped to experience in Italy and Ireland were indeed magnificent and awe inspiring, but on the way to that overlook or that charming village, many small objects caught my attention and demanded that I pause to enjoy them. That's the biggest reason why I always keep a loose and flexible schedule when I travel: it allows stopping and smelling the flowers along the way. Many of my fondest memories of visiting a foreign land are composed of those small delights, and how they often led me to a fascinating discovery that I'd otherwise have missed, had I a strict itinerary to adhere to.

Allokataplixis can happen closer to home as well. Several decades ago I moved to the woods of northern Virginia—just a handful of miles from the West Virginia border. I found myself one day crossing for the first time the state line on my motorcycle, riding into West Virginia, where I began noticing several small, different, and novel sights—thinking, “Wow! I'm in unfamiliar and interesting territory!” Now that I've traversed that same state line countless times, it's no longer novel—it's become my familiar, ordinary neighborhood.

Professor Heneghan had another thought in mind, when he invented the word allokataplixis: that a newcomer's fascination with novel details in a new place can be contagious for long-term residents. It can reignite in them an appreciation for their surroundings. It can wake up jaded denizens. In this way, allokataplixis can become a gift to the residents of a place where travelers visit. It can show residents that there is the marvelous in the everyday. Mindfulness can do the same thing, as it can draw us out of our inattentive state of mind, to put attention to special little things. If something—anything—causes us to pause and absorb the mundane, we can come to realize it too is a true wonder.

Red Oak Grain

This is a piece of red oak that has been oiled to display the intricate grain and show the beauty of this hardwood. Click to enlarge.

Jumping Genes

When we think about who we are—our appearance, our susceptibility to diseases, and many other of our characteristics—we tend to think about our parents. We've inherited most of our traits from them, which they in turn got from their parents. That's the way evolution works. The key process is that when DNA is reproduced, tiny errors may happen, and those errors get passed down the hereditary path. If the errors are beneficial, those who possess them are more likely to survive than those who don't, and so those genes pass on the fortunate error. This is the essence of “survival of the fittest.”

So, our genetic makeup comes to each of us in this manner: from parent to child; and the child later becomes a parent and passes those genes on to their children. Our genome is mostly species specific.

Now, in addition, we do share many of our genes with the chimpanzees, because we and they have a common ancestor that lived some seven million years ago, who passed its genes to both of our species. In fact, we have about a 98% overlap with chimps. But don't we also share a few genes with cows and mice (other mammals), as well as with birds and even lizards? Don't we even share a few genes with trees and mushrooms? Yes, but again, it's simply because all life on Earth descends from the “first ancestor,” which passed on its genes to all of us.

Thus, even though we share a number of genes with other species, most of us have come to understand the story of our personal genes coming primarily through inheritance from our parents. But as so often happens in science, the accepted stories periodically become corrected and updated; a new story emerges—an improved theory comes to light.

Out of research at the University of Adelaide in Australia comes a recent update on the gene inheritance story: it seems that a portion of our genes do not come from mom and pop, but from what's termed a “horizontal transfer” of genes between significantly different species. These “jumping genes” are dubbed “retrotransposons.” The Adelaide scientists traced two particular genes across more than 700 species of plants, animals, and fungi. They found this particular pair of genes appeared repeatedly—and they also verified that these genes were not inherited from parents, but had entered the organisms, after birth, as foreign DNA.

These foreign genes behave sort of like a parasite—in that they can disrupt normal genes. In fact, the researchers conclude that retrotransposons have been a key driver in the rapid evolution of mammals over the past 100 million years. After the dinosaurs disappeared 65 million years ago, the tiny, ineffective mammals who survived were ready to rapidly evolve...and subsequently came to dominate the planet.

How do some genes jump from one kind of species to another very different species? How does a gene from a dandelion become a part of the genome of a human? As yet, the mechanism remains a mystery. Scientists theorize that the horizontal transfer process may be caused by ticks, mosquitoes, leeches, locusts, and viruses. Even bedbugs! Yikes!

Fascinating! This development raises a few crucial questions: Am I related to my tomatoes? Am I committing a crime—or even cannibalism, when I eat french fries? Am I a monkey's uncle? That last one plays upon my Mom's expression of mild disbelief in something, when she'd utter, “Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle.” I used to laugh, because she couldn't be anybody's uncle, but now I perceive a new slant on that old expression, thanks to jumping genes.