A type specimen is a preserved specimen designated as a permanent reference for a new species, new genus or some other taxon. The type is the first specimen bearing the new scientific name, and the one true example of the species.
Biologists have amassed type specimens for hundreds of thousands of different species. But by the mid-twentieth century it had occurred to some of them that they were missing a type specimen for one very important species: Homo sapiens.
In 1959, the botanist William Stearn offered a solution to this problem: Make Carl Linnaeus, the founder of modern taxonomy, the type specimen for all of humanity.
The story is told by Jason Roberts in Every Living Thing (his new biography of Carl Linnaeus):
The concept of type specimen is central to Linnean taxonomy. Since a species is defined by a physical description, that description necessarily requires looking at a physical object (either a preserved specimen or a detailed illustration). This object becomes the "type," the fixed standard by which all subsequent specimens are identified as "typical" of the species.
The methodology had relaxed somewhat in the first part of the twentieth century, with some scientists substituting instead a syntype, a listing of several examples of a species, none of which had priority over the other. But Stearn was writing in light of a recent crackdown. The keepers of the International Code of Botanical Nomenclature had announced a return to Linnean orthodoxy: All new species would henceforth again be defined by a single instance only, called either a holotype (if chosen by the first describer of the species) or a lectotype (if chosen at a later date). Linnaeus's specimens became holotypes as soon as he used them in compiling Systema Naturae... Its specimens were the definitive examples- the embodiments, so to speak- of their respective species.
Yet Linnaeus had neglected to collect the type specimen of one important species. He had never supplied a holotype for Homo sapiens, and for that matter had defined the species only with the terse phrase nosce te ipsum, Latin for "know yourself." Stearn proposed a novel means of correcting this omission. Since "the specimen most carefully studied and recorded by the author is to be accepted as the type," he wrote, the appropriate lectotype was obvious. Linnaeus had presumably examined himself for decades, even if only by glancing in the mirror while shaving.
"Clearly," Stearn concluded, "Linnaeus himself. .. must stand as the type of his Homo sapiens!"
Seven years later the International Committee on Zoological Nomenclature adopted Stearn's suggestion and officially made the body of Linnaeus (entombed in Uppsala Cathedral) the type specimen for all of humanity.
If humans are ever going to colonize another planet in the Solar System, the obvious choice would be Mars. But a vocal minority has long made the case for Venus. They argue that Venus has one huge advantage over Mars — it has almost the same gravity as Earth.
However, there's the problem of its scalding-hot temperature. Back in the early 1980s, French scientist Christian Marchal proposed a way to cool Venus by creating a giant cloud of dust between it and the sun.
Idaho Statesman - Oct 3, 1982
source: Terraforming: Engineering Planetary Environments (1995), by Martyn Fogg
Cooling Venus in this way might be doable, but critics have noted that, even if you succeeded in cooling it, Venus has no water, and you need water to get rid of the carbon in its atmosphere.
Marchal's supporters have subsequently expanded his idea by proposing that we could first hydrate Venus by bombarding it with hundreds of icy asteroids. Of course, doing this would significantly increase the difficulty and cost of the whole terraforming project.
Basically, none of us will ever live to see any of this happen.
1928: Emmett Price of the US Bureau of Animal Husbandry swallowed the larvae of an unknown parasite he found in the liver of a dead giraffe. His boss explained that it was considered tradition within the parasitology section of the Bureau to self-experiment in this way.
In 2011, researchers from Northumbria University published an article in the journal Biology Letters about male dance moves. They used motion-capture technology to "precisely break down and analyse specific motion patterns in male dancing that seem to influence women's perceptions of dance quality."
Here's the key part of their finding (for those men seeking to improve their dance moves):
We find that the variability and amplitude of movements in the central body regions (head, neck and trunk) and speed of the right knee movements are especially important in signalling dance quality. A ‘good’ dancer thus displays larger and more variable movements in relation to bending and twisting movements of their head/neck and torso, and faster bending and twisting movements of their right knee.
Below are two videos from their study showing male dance moves that women like, versus those that they don't.
Arrow storks (in German Pfeilstörche) are storks that got arrows stuck in their body while wintering in Africa but nevertheless managed to fly back to their summer habitats in Europe. To date, around twenty-five Pfeilstörche have been documented.
The first and most famous Pfeilstorch was a white stork found in 1822 near the German village of Klütz, in the state of Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. It was carrying a 75-centimetre (30 in) spear from central Africa in its neck. The specimen was stuffed and can be seen today in the zoological collection of the University of Rostock.
Image & text: Overlooked Sights. German Places. By Michaela Vieser and Reto Wettach.
The song was commission by Dr. Lekelia Jenkins especially for the Human Dimensions of the Ocean Symposium at the University of Washington in 2012. This is an example of how art can be blended with science to express scientific concepts in novel ways.
The singer really pulls out all the stops starting about 45 seconds in. But I'm stumped about what scientific concepts the song is expressing. Is the singer trying to sound like a humpback whale?
Paul Di Filippo
Paul has been paid to put weird ideas into fictional form for over thirty years, in his career as a noted science fiction writer. He has recently begun blogging on many curious topics with three fellow writers at The Inferior 4+1.