Tag Archives: shrews

Drunken Monkeys!

Good morning, sunshine. Or is it afternoon already? Did you have fun last night? How’s your head? Yep, you know you’re not supposed to mix tequila with Kahlua. I’m going to take advantage of this excruciatingly bright day in New Mexico to discuss a subject close to my heart, my aching brain, and my liver: Alcohol tolerance and abuse in the animal kingdom.

One of the many great things about booze is that it occurs naturally in the wild. Fermentation, the process by which a yeast transforms sugar into alcohol (and its by-product, carbon dioxide), needs no brewmaster or whiskey still. Yeast is blowing freely in the wind, and wild grapes were turning to wine long before we were cultivating chardonnay. Nutritionally speaking, alcohol is a double-edged sword: it’s extremely energy-rich, but it’s also toxic and makes you fall down. So it makes sense that animals which eat fruit would develop a tolerance to alcohol, gaining its energy while avoiding getting so drunk that they start hitting on their predators at the bar. (Or, if you’re a fruit bat, flying into a tree.) And the tolerance these animals have for liquor would put the most gin-blossomed tippler to shame.

Meet the greatest drinker in the world: the pen-tailed tree shrew. This tiny, unassuming nocturne from the rainforests of Southeast Asia may not look like a heavyweight, but pound-for-pound, it could drink you under the table. After all, it subsists entirely on a diet of palm nectar which is fermented by wild yeast to a fine 3.8 alcohol content. To mimic the tree shrew, you’d have to survive on only beer for your entire life. (Which is technically possible, I’ve heard from a bartender friend, but not recommended.) Despite consuming what would be, for us, the equivalent of nine glasses of wine a day, and having a blood alcohol level that is constantly above any country’s legal limit, the tree shrew remains sober. How it metabolizes its alcohol so efficiently is still a mystery, but scientists believe that the answer, when found, could present us with a cure for alcohol poisoning, and perhaps a weapon against alcoholism. Right now, most alcohol research is done on lab rats, and rodents tend to avoid alcohol by preference. But the tree shrew actually resembles the earliest primates on a taxonomic level, and could give us insight into our own alcohol tolerance and predilections. What’s more, we’re not the only primates out there that like to hit the sauce.

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Venom

I like to start each day by drinking a nice hot mug of cobra venom.

Did I say cobra venom? I meant coffee. But if I wanted to, I could certainly drink cobra venom, provided I didn’t have any cuts in my mouth or esophagus. I offer this as an example of one of the many ways that “venom” is not synonymous with “poison.” A poison can be anything that harms the body, from complex organic compounds to heavy metals to atomic radiation to bleach under the kitchen sink. But venom is special. Venom is an arrangement of proteins and enzymes that must be injected into a victim’s bloodstream through a mechanical device, such as a fang. Poisons are land mines that anyone can step on; venoms are delivered special to you.

Most of the venomous animals in the world are snakes, but there are a fair number of fish and lizards that deal death as well. The stonefish, the world’s most venomous fish, uses spines to defend itself against attackers, and can certainly kill a human, and gila monsters, one of two North American venomous lizards, produce a neurotoxin which cause an excruciatingly painful paralysis. The world’s most venomous land snake, Australia’s Inland Taipan, has never killed a human due to its reclusiveness, but the venom in one bite is powerful enough to kill 100 people. A few molluscs make the list: the golf ball-sized blue-ringed octopus — again, Australian — has a blinding, paralyzing toxin that will kill a human victim in minutes, and for which there is no antivenin. The venom is nearly identical to that of the marbled cone snail, nicknamed the “cigarette snail” because you’ve got about enough time left on Earth for one cigarette after it stabs you with its neurotoxin-tipped harpoon. But the most venomous animal in the world is the infamous box jelly, the “suckerpunch of the sea,” a nearly-invisible predator responsible for over 5,500 human deaths since 1954. Of course, its fatal deathblow usually comes from the drowning triggered by extreme pain before the venom can stop the victim’s heart.

Clearly, venoms are useful to predators across the animal kingdom: reptiles, fish, insects, cnidarians, molluscs, and even a few amphibians. Why, then, aren’t more animals venomous? And why aren’t there any venomous mammals? And here is where a few of you zoophiles say, What about the duck-billed platypus? Very good; just testing you. The male duckbilled platypus, and only the male, has venomous spurs on its hind legs. The few other venomous mammals are all types of shrew, including one of the rarest and strangest: the solenodon.

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