Weird and Wonderful Animals

By Claire Eamer

I am fascinated by animals that surprise me, that make me rethink my assumptions about what is and isn't possible. Maybe they do something I'm sure they can't do. Or they find a completely unexpected way to survive in their bit of the world. Or they make me rethink how I survive in the world. 

Take, for example, the American dipper or water ouzel, scientific name Cinclus mexicanus.

American dipper. Photo by Ron Knight.

I used to live in Whitehorse, on the banks of the Yukon River in northern Canada. The river is huge and fast-flowing. And it's cold. In winter, it's mostly covered in ice with only a few patches of open water kept clear by the current.

Walking along a river trail one winter day, I saw a small black bird standing on the ice at the edge of the open water. As I watched, it dove straight into the (literally) icy water and disappeared. Just when I began to think it was drowned and frozen, it popped back out of the water and hopped onto the ice, looking none the worse for what should have been a near-death experience.

It was an American dipper, a species that pushes the boundaries of bird life. Dippers can stick their heads under water to search for food and swim underwater by using a flying movement with their short, strong wings. They can even walk along the bottom of a fast-moving stream, holding on with their extra-long toes and claws. 

An American dipper searches for food. Photo by David A Mitchell.

Watching that bird in Whitehorse led me to think about other animals that push boundaries, and that led to my book Lizards in the Sky: Animals Where You Least Expect Them (Annick Press). Snakes that glide from tree to tree, tiny worms that survive on glaciers, salamanders that live in the complete darkness of deep caves: they're all there.

My most recent animal book came from another kind of rethinking -- about why we find some animals or their habits disgusting and what they are really like if you don't just say, "Gross!" and turn away.

The result of my fascination with everything disgusting in the animal world was Extremely Gross Animals: Stinky, Slimy and Strange Animal Adaptations (Kids Can Press). It's full of animals that use puke and poop and spit and other gross stuff to survive. And if you look closely and ask questions, you'll find that they use it very well indeed.

I started by researching all things slimy and smelly (and found some great information), but I think my favourite beastie in the book is now the humble dung beetle. That might be because I found some in my own back yard.

It truth, dung beetles aren't all particularly humble. There are thousands of species of beetle that use dung as food or home or nest or all these. Some, like the elephant dung beetle, are big and showy. Elephant dung beetles actually eat elephant dung (thought it was just a name, didn't you?). Actually, they form it into a ball, roll it away, and bury it to make both a nest and food source for their young. 

[Take a look at Sci/Why contributor Margriet Ruurs's column about a trip to Africa, where she saw elephant dung balls -- and a lot more!] 

The dung beetles in my back yard aren't nearly as big or as showy. They don't roll the dung into balls. Instead, they dig little dens under it and use it as both protection and a food source for themselves and their young.

Two tiny dung beetles scurry away from the author.

I should explain that my back yard includes a couple of acres of forest on one of British Columbia's Gulf Islands -- and a lot of passing deer. I was curious about whether anything dung-beetle-like was using the deer droppings, so I went in search. 

I found a small pile of deer poop, about the size of a pocket wallet. It was dry on top and probably a few days old. I turned it over (using a stick, not my hand -- Come on! Some things really are a bit gross!). 

And there they were! Dung beetles -- two of them, peeking out of two little holes in the ground, the tunnels they had dug under the dung. Before I could tell them how pleased I was to discover them, they scooted away in search of another welcoming patch of deer droppings.

But I was pleased. It was a delight to meet some of the stars of my book face to face.

NOTE: The photos by Ron Knight and David A. Mitchell are licensed for use under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0.

The "Ew!" Factor

By Claire Eamer

I have a new book out -- and it's so disgusting that it once put my editor right off her dinner. I'm proud of that! (Sorry-not-sorry, Stacey.)

The book is called Extremely Gross Animals: Stinky, Slimy and Strange Animal Adaptations, and it's exactly what it claims to be -- a book about the animals that make you go "Ew!" 

The thing is, once you get past the "Ew!" moment, these animals are fascinating. And adaptation itself is fascinating. 

For example, when I think of mucus, I mostly think of snot and all the unpleasantness that goes with a bad cold or (currently) my over-reaction to pollen in the air. As I blow my nose for the tenth time in a morning, I am not feeling all that friendly about snot. 

But when I learned about some of nature's snot-monsters, I started to change my mind. I'll be honest, I am just as likely as anyone to have a brief "Ew!" moment, but then.... Did you know that snot can be a primo defence mechanism? Or that snot can make a nice, safe place to sleep? Or a vehicle for travelling the world? Honestly, how can that not be fascinating?

And it's all true. Consider the hagfish, a far-from-beautiful eel-like fish with a mouth out of nightmares.

Pacific hagfish poking out of a hole 150 metres below the ocean surface. Credit: NOAA/CBNMS

Then think about picking up a hagfish, or sharing a tank with it as this fellow does. When a hagfish is attacked by a predator -- or even by a television commentator having an "Ew!" moment -- it can produce enough slime (mucus, snot, whatever you fancy) by the bucketful, enough to clog the gills of any fish that fancies it for dinner. Watch here to see some high school students have their own "Ew!" moment at a hagfish research lab at the University of Guelph.

But what about that snotty but safe place to sleep? That's not hagfish, that's the parrotfish, a much prettier denizen of the world's oceans. 

A rainbow parrotfish. Photo credit: Paul Asman and Jill Lenoble

A parrotfish spends its days pottering around coral reefs, eating algae that it has scraped off the coral with its bill-like mouth parts. At night, it sleeps safe and cozy in a cocoon of mucus freshly expelled from glands near its gills. Scientists aren't sure why. After all, you can't interview a parrotfish. However, the cocoon certainly keeps it safe from sharp encounters with coral, may protect it from parasites, and also would give it advance warning of any predator considering a midnight snack of parrotfish.

And the world traveller? Meet the violet sea snail, also called the purple bubble raft snail. 

This violet sea snail washed ashore in Maui with its bubble raft intact. Public domain photo.

As soon as it's born, the snail creates a raft of air bubbles enclosed in mucus to which its single foot is firmly stuck. The snail spends its life floating around the world's oceans upside-down, its foot attached to this mucus-and-bubble raft which keeps it safely at the water's surface. Both "Ew!" and "Awesome!"

And I haven't even begun to tell you what some animals can do with poop. Or puke. Or...well, you'll have to get the book for the rest of the grossness.

Enjoy!