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| The Song of the Dodo, by David Quammem. |
Quammen is not surprised that the central idea of biology, natural selection, was proposed by two scientists who studied islands: Charles Darwin and the Galapagos, and Alfred Russell Wallace and the Malay Archipelago. The book begins by telling Wallace’s story. Quammen calls him “the man who knew islands.” Wallace was the founder of the science of biogeography: the study of how species are distributed throughout the world. For example, Wallace’s line lies between two islands in Indonesia that are only 20 miles apart: Bali (with plants and animals similar to those native to Asia) and Lombok (with flora and fauna more like that found in Australia). Because islands are so isolated, they are excellent laboratories for studying speciation (the creation of new species through evolution) and extinction (the disappearance of existing species).
Quammen is the best writer about evolution since Stephen Jay Gould. I would say that Gould was better at penning essays and Quammen is better at authoring books. Much of The Song of the Dodo deals with the history of science. I would rank it up there with my favorite history of science books: The Making of the Atomic Bomb by Richard Rhodes, The Eighth Day of Creation by Horace Freeland Judson, and The Maxwellians by Bruce Hunt.
Yet, The Song of the Dodo is more than just a history. It’s also an amazing travelogue. Quammen doesn’t merely write about islands. He visits them, crawling through rugged jungles to see firsthand animals such as the Komodo Dragon (a giant man-eating lizard), the Madagascan Indri (a type of lemur), and the Thylacine (a marsupial also known as the Tasmanian tiger). A few parts of The Song of the Dodo are one comic sidekick away from sounding like a travel book Tony Horwitz might have written. Quammen talks with renowned scientists and takes part in their research. He reminds me of George Plimpton, sampling different fields of science instead of trying out various sports.
Although I consider myself a big Quammen fan, he does have one habit that bugs me. He hates math and assumes his readers hate it too. In fact, if Quammen’s wife Betsy wanted to get rid of her husband, she would only need to open Intermediate Physics for Medicine and Biology to a random page and flash its many mathematical equations in front of his face. It would put him into shock, and he probably wouldn’t last the hour. In his book, Quammen only presents one equation and apologizes profusely for it. It’s a power law relationship
S = c An .
This is the same equation that Russ Hobbie and I analyze in Chapter 2 of IPMB, when discussing log-log plots and scaling. How do you determine the dimensionless exponent n for a particular case? As is my wont, I’ll show you in a new homework problem.
Section 2.11Let me explain to mathaphobes like Quammen how to solve the problem. Assume that on one island there are S0 species and the area is A0. On another island, there are 2S0 species and an area of 10A0. Put these values into the power law to find S0 = cA0n and 2S0 = c(10A0)n. Now divide the second equation by the first (c, S0, and A0 all cancel) to find 2 = 10n. Take the logarithm of both sides, so log(2) = log(10n), or using a property of logarithms log(2) = n log(10). So n = log(2)/log(10) = 0.3. Note that n is positive, as it should be since increasing the area increases the number of species.
Problem 40½. In island biogeography, the number of species on an island, S, is related to the area of the island, A, by the species-area relationship: S = c An, where c and n are constants. Philip Darlington counted the number of reptile and amphibian species from several islands in the Antilles. He found that when the island area increased by a factor of ten, the number of species doubled. Determine the value of n.
When I finished the main text of The Song of the Dodo, I thumbed through the glossary and found an entry for logarithm. “Aww,” I thought, “Quammen was only joking; he likes math after all.” Then I read his definition: “logarithm. A mathematical thing. Never mind.”
About halfway through, the book makes a remarkable leap from island biogeography—interesting for its history and relevance to exotic tropical isles—to mainland ecology, relevant to critical conservation efforts. Natural habitats on the continents are being broken up into patches, a process called fragmentation. The expansion of towns and farms creates small natural reserves surrounded by inhospitable homes and fields. The few remaining native regions tend to be small and isolated, making them similar to islands. A small natural reserve cannot support the species diversity that a large continent can (S = c An). Extinctions inevitably follow.
The Song of the Dodo also provides insight into how science is done. For instance, the species-area relationship was derived by Robert MacArthur and Edward Wilson. While it’s a valuable contribution to island biogeography, scientists disagree on its applicability to fragmented continents, and in particular they argue about its relevance to applied conservation. Is a single large reserve better than several small ones? In the 1970s a scientific battle raged, with Jared Diamond supporting a narrow interpretation of the species-area relationship and Dan Simberloff advocating for a more nuanced and less dogmatic view. As in any science, the key is to get data to test your hypothesis. Thomas Lovejoy performed an experiment in the Amazon to test the species-area relationship. Parts of the rainforest were being cleared for agriculture or other uses, but the Brazilian government insisted on preserving some of the native habitat. Lovejoy obtained permission to create many different protected rainforest reserves, each a different size. His team monitored the reserves before and after they became isolated from adjacent lands, and tracked the number of species supported in each of these “islands” over time. While the results are complicated, there is a correlation between species diversity and reserve size. Area matters.
One theme that runs through the story is extinction. If you read the book, you better have your hanky ready when you reach the part where Quammen imagines the death of the last Dodo bird. Conservation efforts are featured throughout the text, such as the quest to save the Mauritius kestrel.
The Song of the Dodo concludes with a mix of optimism and pessimism. Near the end of the book, when writing about his trip to Aru (an island in eastern Indonesia) to observe a rare Bird of Paradise, Quammen writes
The sad, dire things that have happened elsewhere, in so many parts of the world—biological imperialism, massive habitat destruction, fragmentation, inbreeding depression, loss of adaptability, decline of wild populations to unviable population levels, ecosystem decay, trophic cascades, extinction, extinction, extinction—haven’t yet happened here. Probably they soon will. Meanwhile, though, there’s still time. If time is hope, there’s still hope.
An interview with David Quammen, by www.authorsroad.com
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