HENRY

Margaret Talbot in The New Yorker talks about “the woman behind the world’s chattiest Parrots”, Irene Pepperberg:

As the crowd at the Midwest Bird Expo waited for the cognitive scientist Irene Pepperberg to take the podium, the hum of human chatter was punctuated by the sound of parrots whooping it up—twittering and letting loose with wolf whistles, along with the occasional full-out jungle squawk. The birds, many of them for sale, were displayed in cages just beyond the curtained-off stage, which was inside the main hall of the DuPage County Fairgrounds, in Wheaton, Illinois. Nobody seemed particularly distracted by the commotion. …

Here were admirers who had sent in ten-dollar bills to help support her research with Alex, the African gray parrot that she worked with for thirty years; and here were people who, after Alex died, unexpectedly, of heart arrhythmia, on September 6, 2007, helped form an online community that comes together on the sixth day of every month to reflect about him.

Emma Marris in today’s Nature reviews my field of research, and chats to a number of my friends and colleagues:

In the past five to ten years, more and more non-linguists such as Pagel have used the computational tools with which they model evolution to take a crack at languages. And one can see why. Like biological species, languages slowly change and sometimes split over time. Darwin’s Galapagos finches evolved either large beaks or small; Latin amor became French amour and Italian amore. Darwin himself noted the ‘curious parallel’ between the evolution of languages and species in The Descent of Man, and Selection in Relation to Sex.

The advent of molecular genetics provided a new depth to the analogy. Just as the four nucleotides of DNA can produce a staggering variety of creatures, the alphabets of the world’s languages can generate an infinite number of sentences. These alphabets, the words they make, and the sounds and grammar rules that frame them are passed down from parent to child in a process that, at least superficially, resembles the inheritance of DNA.

Even some complications are the same. Just as species can shade off into a maddening continuum of subspecies, populations and hybrids, languages dissolve into an untidy collection of dialects and intermediate forms. And the rampant borrowing of words between languages resembles, graphically at least, the promiscuous horizontal gene transfer that microbes engage in.

The full story is here, and I’ve written about some of the (our) research here before.

Over at the Freakonomics blog, the primatologist Frans de Waal answers readers questions on …how polygamist sects mimic the mating systems of animals, and why bonobos eat after sex, amongst other things.

Today’s Nature covers the controversy about the recent paper Small-bodied humans from Palau, Micronesia by Berger et al. Last month, Berger and colleagues claimed that they’d found a collection of small bodied humans dating back between 940 and 2890 years (cal bp) in a burial cave in Palau:

Preliminary sampling of two burial caves in Palau, Micronesia has produced the remains of small-bodied recent H. sapiens, possibly representing a case of insular dwarfing. Individuals in this sample exhibit, in addition to small body size, reduction of the absolute size of the face, distinct supraorbital tori (in some individuals), a weakly developed mental eminence, relatively large dental dimensions, and dental dysplasias and agenesis.

Some of these features may be considered primitive for the genus Homo (or trending towards the primitive condition), thus the human fossils from Palau may provide important insights into the relationship between small body size and the expression of morphological features generally considered to be taxonomically diagnostic in our genus.

Given the scarcity of skeletal samples of small-bodied modern humans, and their importance for resolving taxonomic and phylogenetic issues in genus Homo paleontology, we provide here a brief description of the more salient specimens and a preliminary analysis of the material relative to small-bodied modern humans and to the holotype specimen of one small-bodied member of our genus, H. floresiensis (LB1).

(I’m not sure what “trending towards the primitive condition” means, so I’ll ignore that).

The Nature paper by Rex Dalton (Bones, Islands and Videotape) discusses a few of the technical - and rather vicious - criticisms of the Berger paper:

“The more I read their paper, the more I am convinced it is complete nonsense and cannot be accepted as serious science,” says Michael Pietrusewsky

and:

Berger, charges Fitzpatrick, “hasn’t made adequate comparisons to other skeletal material from Palau. And I don’t think he understands variance in human populations”.

That is - those bones aren’t small people and this ain’t island dwarfing. Dalton suggests that a large part of the problem is how this research is funded by the National Geographic Society. Berger features in a TV show Fossil Hunter, with the slogan “entertainment first, science second”. Now, I’m not sure where I stand on the issue of entertainment-based funding and science, and certainly I think Nat.Geo. does some really good work. However, the paper does raise the issue of how science and entertainment tend to get in each other’s way:

the Palau story illustrates how science can get caught up in the entertainment process. Like many palaeoanthropologists, Berger has long worked with film crews to document discoveries. But sometimes the demands to catch a significant finding on tape can clash with the slow, rigorous nature of the scientific process. The question anthropologists are asking now is: did entertainment needs in Palau overwhelm the evidence from field research

William Thurston on the role of humor in language change in his 1987 book “Processes of Change in the languages of North-Western New Britain”:

Many linguistic innovations arise in the context of humor, a common mechanism for mediating interpersonal relationships. For example, in 1978, during my second trip to work with the Anêm, but Goulden’s first, we had passed weeks without eating an egg. One morning, an Anêm woman proudly presented Goulden with one, and carefully enunciated the phrase nilŋêm texik ‘chicken-egg’ (nil-ŋ2 ‘egg/testicle’, texik ‘chicken’) for Goulden to repeat. (The Anêm apply Pavlovian principles to language teaching.) At this stage, Goulden’s knowledge of Anêm was at the wordlist level. He graciously accepted the gift, but in his fluster to be polite and repeat what he thought he had heard, he uttered biŋêm texik ‘chicken vulva’ instead. Both bi-ŋ2 and nil-ŋ2 belong to the genital class of nouns.

No sooner had the slip left his tongue than he knew his mistake, but it was too late. Goulden’s obvious discomfiture only accentuated the hilarity of the event. Acutely embarrassed, he returned to the house with the egg in hand. In subsequent weeks, Goulden was the recipient of all available eggs in Karaiai and Pudeling villages; each one was presented as biŋêm texik, a lexeme temporarily reassigned a new meaning for the duration of the gag. (pp. 66-67)

“if you cared about money you wouldn’t be a scientist at all would you?” — John Womersley, head of the Science and Technology Facilities Council