10/18/2006
Predators
In past columns, I’ve mentioned seeing a praying mantis in an elevated parking lot at our local mall and then a picture in National Geographic of a mantis chewing on a hummingbird. More recently, just off the green on the first hole of our municipal golf course, I saw my second praying mantis of the year. I’ve never seen two mantises in one year. I couldn’t tell whether this one was praying, preying or applauding my putt for a par on that hole. A couple of days later, I found that Brian Trumbore had marked for my attention a very brief item on the praying mantis in the October Smithsonian magazine.
The female mantis is not a very sociable critter, often cannibalizing a male mantis with which it has mated. The Smithsonian item referred to the work of Jonathan Lelito and William Brown at the State University of New York (SUNY) at Fredonia. In the August issue of The American Naturalist, they published the results of a study aimed at deciding whether the male mantis accepts this fate as the price of sexual dalliance or does he try to avoid his demise? Were I a male mantis, I certainly would opt for the latter!
The hungrier the female, the more likely she is to bite off the male’s head. The SUNY researchers found that a male mantis can tell when a female is hungry. When a male approaches a hungry female, it approaches more cautiously, takes longer to court the gal and mounts her from a greater distance than if she were well fed. After mating, the male hangs on as much as three times longer than with a satiated female. This apparently gives the male time to await his chance to quickly dismount and get away with head intact. The males are not suicidal!
Eating pesky insects, hummingbirds and even each other, the mantis is a predator to be reckoned with. When it comes to human predators, there’s the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted List. But did you know about the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s Top Ten Weeds List? At least one these top ten weeds is a true predator. This is Cuscuta pentagona, more commonly known as dodder. A relative of the morning glory, dodder is also known as strangleweed or witches’ shoelaces, indicative of its fearsome nature. Dodder is a parasitic vine that overwhelms its plant host in a mass of swirling yellowish tendrils or stems that somewhat resembles a cobweb of sturdy threads. There was a good picture of the dodder in action in an article by Sarah Everts in the October 2 issue of Chemical and Engineering News (C&EN).
The C&EN article alerted me to what may be a landmark paper by Justin Runyon, Mark Mescher and Consuelo DeMoraes at Pennsylvania State University in the September 29 issue of Science. The Penn State researchers have shown that dodder somehow “sniffs” volatile chemical compounds elicited by its favorite tomato and other plants. Like a bloodhound, the dodder follows the scent. As a parasite, the dodder has to quickly find and settle on a host in order to gain sustenance.
When a dodder seedling sprouts, there’s only enough energy stored in the seed for the dodder to grow and travel a few centimeters. It doesn’t have any leaves and isn’t good at photosynthesis like most familiar plants. It can’t grow by utilizing sunlight, CO2 and water. It grows by attaching itself to a plant and sucking out stuff from inside the plant. When the dodder seed sprouts, the tendril heads for a host plant and wraps itself around the plant. It looks rather like a growing strand of spaghetti heading out from the seed and wrapping itself around the plant stem. Once the dodder is attached to a host plant, it picks up the nutrients it needs to keep growing and entwining itself haphazardly around the rest of the plant.
Dodder has to find a host plant to survive, but how does it locate the plant? At Penn State, the researchers placed a dodder seedling in a vial of water at the center of a disc of filter paper. As they put it, they then allowed the seedling to “forage” for 4 days, tracing its circuitous growth on the filter paper and marking the spot where the growing tip ended up. They repeated this 30 times each under three different sets of conditions: (1) a pot of moist soil was placed near an edge of the paper disc; (2) a 20-day old tomato plant was substituted for the moist soil; (3) a mix of volatile chemicals found in tomato plants was released from a rubber septum near an edge of the disc.
The filter paper discs were marked into four equal sections or quadrants; one quadrant centered on the pot of moist soil, potted tomato plant or the volatile chemicals emitted from the septum. If the seedlings grew randomly, out of 30 seedlings you’d expect a quarter of them, roughly 7 or 8, to end up in each quadrant. With the tomato plant, 15 ended up in the quadrant closest to the tomato plant. With the septum releasing tomato plant volatile compounds, 17 headed for the septum. With the moist soil, only 6 were in the quadrant closest to the soil. Bottom line – half or more of the seedlings grew towards the tomato plant or its smelly equivalent while only a fifth of the seedlings grew towards the moist soil. Does dodder have a nose?
The researchers also ran other experiments with 10-day old tomato plants (17), vials of red or green colored water (5, 5) and an artificial tomato plant (5) as the targets. The numbers in parentheses are the number of seedlings out of 30 ending up in the closest quadrant to the target. Again, dodder favored a real tomato plant over the faux targets. Lest there be any possible visual clues that the clever dodder might use, the Penn State workers ran an experiment in which the odor from a bunch of tomato plants was transmitted through a plastic pipe with a 90- degree angle bend in it. The dodder seedlings still headed preferentially towards the end of the pipe, following the tomato plant odor.
Dodder prefers tomato to wheat plants, given a choice. The researchers ran numerous experiments of the same type using individual volatile compounds found in tomato plants and in wheat. They found that tomato and wheat plants shared at least one volatile compound. However, they also found that wheat had one volatile that appeared to have a repellant effect on the dodder seedlings. More of the seedlings ended up in the quadrant opposite to the quadrant centered on the septum. This finding raises the possibility of controlling the dodder if a repellant volatile compound can be used to fend off dodder attacks on farmers’ crops. Perhaps other weeds on the Top Ten Weed List could also be controlled in this manner.
How does the dodder sense the attractive volatile compounds and know how to travel in the right direction? The whole field of plant communication is ripe for innovative research to figure out the plant’s equivalent of a nose. I believe that I’ve mentioned in a past column research that has shown, for example, that if certain plants are attacked by a pest, the attacked plant may emit some sort of chemical signal that’s picked up by another plant. The latter plant then starts producing a chemical that tends to repel the pest or the plant takes some action that makes it less attractive to the pest. This may be in the form of attracting another insect that is a sworn enemy of the pest.
Maybe a tomato plant will learn about the wheat volatile that repels dodder and start making the compound on its own.
Allen F. Bortrum
|