Peptidoglycan: slimming and body sculpting! The Spanx of biochemicals, really. Peptidoglcyan forms a cage around the bacterial cell the authors of this study call it a “shape-determining” macromolecule, which is a fantastic euphemism. bacteriovorus directs the remodeling of its victims’ walls to suit its own designs.īacterial cell walls are built of peptidoglycan, a mesh of short chains of amino acids – the building blocks of proteins - called oligopeptides, and chains of sugars called NAG and NAM. Recently, scientists were curious to what extent B. Due to a turbo-charged sheathed propeller called a flagellum, they can achieve velocities of 100 body lengths-per-second, making them the current bacterial land-speed record holders – the cheetahs of the bacterial Serengeti ( actual cheetahs make 16 body lengths/second). Which means there could be some inside you right now ( Cool!). They’ve been detected in soil, rivers, the ocean, water treatment plants, crab gills, oyster shells, chicken s***, and even human waste. What is known is that predatory bacteria, while not abundant (what predators are?), are widespread in nature. Though bacteria-on-bacteria predation like this is likely common, scientists have spent a lot more time studying viruses, protists, and animals that kill and eat bacteria, and the extent to which bacterial predators of bacteria are important remains fuzzy. Credit: Estevezj Wikimedia (CC BY-SA 3.0) The predator keeps its victim's body intact for another four hours, however, to permit what the authors of a new study on Bdellovibrio coolly refer to as “private dining”. The entire process takes only four hours, but the prey is dead within 20 minutes. There, the predator steals food and grows like a demonic sausage before dividing into links of equally ill-intentioned offspring that burst from their victim’s corpse. After torpedoing toward its prey, it drills a porthole not quite as wide as itself, squeezes into the space between the cell wall and the inner membrane, and then plugs the opening. īdellovibrio bacteriovorus's job is to ambush and kill other bacteria, and it approaches that calling with verve. But there's one more important item on that list: avoid Bdellovibrio. The typical bacterial to-do list is not long. If you ever want to reach out to chat or ask a question, make a request, or give me an idea, you can reach me at or on Twitter. Who do I want in this community? Anyone who is interested in a humorous, vivid take on the planet’s abundant, unsung life is welcome here. Finally, unlike the last incarnation of TAA, I plan to capitalize on the Substack format to link to others’ work I think may be of interest to readers here (so you can go read it), and also to give you my two cents. I have also found there is a dearth of media outlets that publish columns or essays like mine, and Substack seeems like a good place to fill that void. Why relaunch? Because there are still so many other wonderful, funny, interesting and/or overlooked short biology stories to write about, and I want to continue sharing my take on them with you. Since that consumes a fair amout of time, work here will be irregular for a while, and this Substack will be free for the time being. The old Artful Amoeba blog at Scientific American (2011-2020)Īnd I have more news: I am working on my first book. My post-blog essays for the Opinion section at SA. My most recent print publication in Scientific American magazine on bacteria that are effectively immortal, and its 15 seconds of fame on “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert”. My most recent opinion piece for Scientific American, published in September, on the crazy world of bacterial predators. My two guest appearances on RadioLab, From Tree to Shining Tree and Smarty Plants. Here are some highlights of my past and most recent work: When I’m doing it right, my work combines wonder and humor in equal measure. For those of you who are new to my work, think of it as a Mary Roach-style approach to natural history, biodiversity and biology, particularly of things without fur, feathers, skin, or scales. Now I’m bringing The Artful Amoeba back on Substack. Then, in early June 2020, the SA blog network closed. I am still grateful to all editors past and present at SA for the opportunity. In 2011, I lucked into my dream job at Scientific American, writing humorous and wondrous takes on Earth’s obscure or overlooked life.
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