Dear Readers, this week scientist  Angela Oliverio of Syracuse University revealed that an amoeba had been found which could survive temperatures of 70 degrees Celsius (158 degrees Fahrenheit), ten degrees Celsius higher than the previous record. This is really quite something. One of the main problems with high temperatures for most organisms is that at a certain point, the structure of the proteins in the body starts to unravel, meaning that they can’t do their essential jobs – proteins are involved in practically every major function in the body. This is known as ‘denaturing’, and to see a classic example, just crack an egg into a hot frying pan – as the proteins in the egg white unfold and become ineffective, they turn white. So to find a complex organism that can live in temperatures this high (found in the hot springs of Lassen Volcanic National Park in California) was quite something. In the photo above, the amoeba is splitting into two organisms, something that stops at 63 degrees Celsius. At 64 degrees Celsius, the amoeba stops moving and forms itself into a protective cyst but is still clearly alive.

Amoebae are quite advanced animals – they are eukaryotes, which means that their cells have a nucleus, just as ours do. This particular species is a predator of the heat-loving (thermophilic) bacteria which live in the hot spring, Whilst simpler organisms which don’t have a nucleus can survive at even higher temperatures – Methanopyrus kandlerii, for example, can survive at up to 122 degrees Celsius – the discovery of a higher organism which can live at such high temperatures gives a lot of potential material for study. How do they do it?

One thing that the amoeba seems to have in abundance is a range of molecules called heat shock proteins – these help to stabilise unravelling proteins, including those that live in cell membranes and are essential for transporting vital chemicals through the cell wall. DNA can also be damaged by high temperatures, but as the temperature goes up, more DNA repair molecules are secreted. Interestingly, both advanced and simpler organisms have very similar heat-resistance mechanisms, meaning they probably evolved separately when similar stresses were applied. All in all, this extends the possibilities for where life might exist, both here and (potentially) on other planets too.

The New Scientist article is here.

The research paper is here.

Dear Readers, there is something very special about walking in ancient woodland, and Symondshyde Great Wood has been recorded since the time of the Normans – it was part of the Bishop of Ely’s deer park in medieval times, and has a series of ancient banks, ditches and quarries which are difficult to decipher, at least for an amateur like me. In the middle of the wood is a conifer plantation from the 1950s – the pine trees will not be replaced when they die, to allow the native trees to regenerate.

I was with my friend L, and between us we tried to ‘read’ the wood and the individual trees. The experts on this include the people who attend the Ancient Tree Forum, and I’m becoming increasingly interested in the way that, if you have the knowledge, you can tell a lot about a tree’s history just from studying it. It’s also a way of understanding what has happened to a tree so that you can find the best way to help it.

But, here in Symondshyde, there is so much going on that it’s difficult to get your head around.

The trees in the photos above, for example, were all planted on top of a ditch, probably originally as hedging, to mark a boundary and/or prevent animals from entering the wood. The way the hornbeams have grown seems to indicate that they were intended to throw up a lot of shoots which could be interwoven into a hedge. At some point, that process ceased, and so the hedge became a row of trees instead. As my garden has shown me, a hedge is just a linear forest if you don’t prune and train it regularly.

I just love the muscularity of hornbeam trees. Once you learn that the bark is smooth and ripples like well-honed biceps, they become easy to identify.

Anyhoo, we cross a field at the side of the wood that’s full of chicory and bristly oxtongue…

And enter the remnant wood on the other side, which is truly extraordinary.

I have absolutely no idea what’s going on here – the whole thing looks more like a skateboard park than anything I’ve ever seen. There are ditches, and what could be pits and quarries. I know from the Historic England records that Iron Age artefacts have been found very close to here, but how this area relates to that, I don’t know. I will be doing some research and will get back to you. But for now, it remains an intriguing enigma.

Looks like a sparrowhawk has been at work. I loved the water drops on the feather.

There were some fine fungi on an ash tree too.

Back in the main wood, this magnificent oak tree made me dizzy. Oaks in woodland often grow straight and tall, whilst in the open they have a wider, more domed shape.

The 1950s pine plantation is the only place where bracken grows, probably because the fallen pine needles make the soil more acidic than it is in the rest of the wood.

 

I love the way that the larvae of this leaf miner have followed the veins, making this lacy silvery tracery…

And look at the strange patterns on this oak bark, it all looks very 1960s psychedelic.

So, this was a first visit to Symondshyde Great Wood, but it won’t be the last – what a spectacular place. Furthermore, we were walking around for hours and only saw two other people and one poodle. Well worth a visit if you’re craving some time amongst magnificent trees and bird song.

A map of the area is here.

I loved this ‘Poem on the Underground’ by Young Poet on the Underground Rebecca Hawkes. Let’s not forget that this amazing tapestry is propaganda, after all…