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The hydra is a Lovecraftian-looking microorganism with a mouth surrounded by tentacles on one end, an elongated body, and a foot on the other end. It has no brain or centralized nervous system. Despite the lack of either of those things, it can still feel hunger and fullness. How can these creatures know when they are hungry and realize when they have had enough?

While they lack brains, hydra do have a nervous system. Researchers from Kiel University in Germany found they have an endodermal (in the digestive tract) and ectodermal (in the outermost layer of the animal) neuronal population, both of which help them react to food stimuli. Ectodermal neurons control physiological functions such as moving toward food, while endodermal neurons are associated with feeding behavior such as opening the mouth—which also vomits out anything indigestible.

Even such a limited nervous system is capable of some surprisingly complex functions. Hydras might even give us some insights into how appetite evolved and what the early evolutionary stages of a central nervous system were like.

Enlarge / This is an intact phage. A tailocin looks like one of these with its head cut off. (credit: iLexx )

Long before humans became interested in killing bacteria, viruses were on the job. Viruses that attack bacteria, termed "phages" (short for bacteriophage), were first identified by their ability to create bare patches on the surface of culture plates that were otherwise covered by a lawn of bacteria. After playing critical roles in the early development of molecular biology, a number of phages have been developed as potential therapies to be used when antibiotic resistance limits the effectiveness of traditional medicines.

But we're relative latecomers in terms of turning phages into tools. Researchers have described a number of cases where bacteria have maintained pieces of disabled viruses in their genomes and converted them into weapons that can be used to kill other bacteria that might otherwise compete for resources. I only just became aware of that weaponization, thanks to a new study showing that this process has helped maintain diverse bacterial populations for centuries.

Evolving a killer

The new work started when researchers were studying the population of bacteria associated with a plant growing wild in Germany. The population included diverse members of the genus Pseudomonas , which can include plant pathogens. Normally, when bacteria infect a new victim, a single strain expands dramatically as it successfully exploits its host. In this case, though, the Pseudomonas population contained a variety of different strains that appeared to maintain a stable competition.

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The development of gene editing tools, which enable the specific targeting and correction of mutations, hold the promise of allowing us to correct those mutations that cause genetic diseases. However, the technology has been around for a while now—two researchers were critical to its development in 2020— and there have been only a few cases where gene editing has been used to target diseases.

One of the reasons for that is the challenge of targeting specific cells in a living organism. Many genetic diseases affect only a specific cell type, such as red blood cells in sickle cell anemia, or specific tissue. Ideally, to limit potential side effects, we'd like to ensure that enough of the editing takes place in the affected tissue to have an impact, while minimizing editing elsewhere to limit side effects. But our ability to do so has been limited. Plus, a lot of the cells affected by genetic diseases are mature and have stopped dividing. So, we either need to repeat the gene editing treatments indefinitely or find a way to target the stem cell population that produces the mature cells.

On Thursday, a US-based research team said that they've done gene editing experiments that targeted a high-profile genetic disease: cystic fibrosis. Their technique largely targets the tissue most affected by the disease (the lung), and occurs in the stem cell populations that produce mature lung cells, ensuring that the effect is stable.

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Lots of animals communicate with each other, from tiny mice to enormous whales . But none of those forms of communication share all but a small fraction of the richness of human language. Still, finding new examples of complex communications can tell us things about the evolution of language and what cognitive capabilities are needed for it.

On Monday, researchers report what may be the first instance of a human-like language ability in another species. They report that elephants refer to each other by individual names, and the elephant being referred to recognizes when it's being mentioned. The work could be replicated with a larger population and number of calls, but the finding is consistent with what we know about the sophisticated social interactions of these creatures.

What’s in a name?

We use names to refer to each other so often that it's possible to forget just how involved their use is. We recognize formal and informal names that refer to the same individual, even though those names often have nothing to do with the features or history of that person. We easily handle hundreds of names, including those of people we haven't interacted with in decades. And we do this in parallel with the names of thousands of places, products, items, and so on.