Witnessing Evolution and Learning how to Think about it in the Wonderful Swiss Alps
The first “Evolutionary Biology in Guarda” workshop took place in 1988.
I had the pleasure of being part of the 28th group of young biologists who spent a week taking refuge in the internet-free Alps to learn how to construct clear projects in order to test hypotheses on evolution.
Everywhere you look: the Alps
Upon arrival, I was in awe. Guarda was the loveliest village I had ever visited. You might know it from Selina Chönz’s classic Swiss children’s story “A Bell for Ursli”. I assure you, it is as wonderful as Alois Carigiet’s illustrations.
After the meet-and-greet, we received instructions for the upcoming work, which was to begin the following day.
Our mission: find a question and construct a testable hypothesis… offline!
First working day: I went to the designated house №61 and was introduced to my team members, all of whom were new to me. There’s this initial, typical awkward silence… But we knew that we had been brought together deliberately, likely owing to common interests. I thought that could be a nice icebreaker.
“So… what did you write down as interests?”
Between all of us, there were twelve evolutionary biology topics on the table. We had two days to come up with a first written draft of our project, including a testable hypothesis. I should remind you: no available Internet or bibliography whatsoever!
Our only research tools were acquired knowledge and imagination
I think we were a pretty good team: there was Eva who was passionately into theoretical modeling; Paul and me as fair connoisseurs of genomics and adaptation; and Lisa and Felix who possess awesome experimental design wisdom. Felix had heard about a cool natural pattern called “geographical parthenogenesis” and, upon discussion, we realized that this nicely accommodated our common interests.
Evolution united us even as we all worked on different organisms; our skills were diverse and yet complementary. This allowed us to fill each other’s knowledge gaps while learning cool things from one another.
Our project even included a species of butterfly born of our imagination: Guarda vinumbibens (yes, the Guarda wine-drinking butterfly). Let’s just say that a lot (all?!) of our hard working days ended late, at the local bar, where we enjoyed very nice local white wine. Despite this, we still met the deadlines!
The fearless freedom to ask and disagree
Inevitably, when you work with ideas and other humans, you will disagree. Now, what’s also true is that science does not make sense without peer discussion. So, even though disagreement is sometimes received as an insult, it is something that we should empower and cultivate in academia.
During that week, discussion and disagreement were not only allowed, they were central to every task!
The professors, who would visit us every day during the project’s evolution, constantly encouraged debate, making sure everyone expressed their opinion and the facts supporting it. This is not only a great exercise — it’s how science should be practiced.
It’s not just about the science!
Every day, we would cook dinner for a different professor so that we could then share the more human side of knowledge. Sometimes academic life can be scary, so it was very nice to hear personal stories of successful people, which were then complemented by their scientific evening tales.
Hiking, smelling orchids and witnessing evolution
On day five, we got a (very welcome) break. The idea was to let the biologists get lost in nature, and to nature we all flocked! At 4:00 am, I was tying the shoelaces of my hiking boots and leaving the house to join the group led by Sebastian Bonhoeffer. You would think that after five intensive days of constant focus on the works of evolution, your brain turns that topic off. But it doesn’t, because:
The beautiful part of studying evolution is to see, smell, and hear the biodiversity it creates.
Sebastian works mainly on viruses, but he’s also a botanic nerd! During our hike up the mountain, he would identify and point us toward the alpine flora growing on and along our path.
A few moments in, I was madly addicted to smelling the Black Vanilla Orchid (Nigritella nigra): it has a perfectly intoxicating vanilla-cocoa smell!
But despite the fields of fragrant orchids and beautiful gentianas, the flower that truly fascinated me was a small, slender, purple one. Just by looking at it, I doubt anyone would notice it, but if you know its story, then I bet you’ll feel nothing but wonder: the Alpine Snowbell (Soldanella alpina).
Adaptation to the alpine ice
Legend has it that Soldanella was a young girl who could live only in springtime. However, this plant is not dead during winter; it’s taking cover under the snow. Many alpine plants actually depend on snow to survive. Besides moisture and nutrients, it offers cover from wind and cold. While the outside air might be as cold as -33ºC, the temperature under the white blanket may be a little toastier, close to zero (-0.6ºC), allowing the plant to be in a dormant state. When the ice starts melting in spring, light can finally reach the Soldanella, “waking up” the photosynthetic process. The heat that results from its metabolism melts the surrounding snow, helping the flower’s crusade towards the spring sky, becoming one of the first blooms of the season.
So, although we associate ice with desolation, to quote Dr. Ian Malcolm:
“Life finds a way” — through evolution!
This was further proven by the evening talks of Dolph Schluter and Dieter Ebert, as they told us how ice influenced the evolution of their focal organisms. It was the glaciers melting 12,000 years ago that allowed sticklebacks to colonize lakes, and the cyclic freezing of rocky pools that drove (and still drives) the population dynamics of some Daphnia species.
Anyway, the hike — which was supposed to be four hours long — turned into twelve awesome hours.
Next day (legs still sore), I was up at birdwatcher’s time: 6:00 am. Peter and Rosemary Grant, and Dolph guided us. We were going for a bird watching tour with a special target: a sparrow.
Once again, an inexperienced eye might fail to find anything interesting about the sparrows we so eagerly followed.
But when you put your evolution goggles on, there’s a whole new world out there.
Not just any kind of sparrow!
We are still trying to answer the centuries-old question of how new species arise in nature. One of the ways in which this might happen is through the rare process of hybrid speciation. This is the case of the Italian sparrow (Passer italiae), a hybrid between the House sparrow (Passer domesticus) and the Spanish sparrow (Passer hispaniolensis).
In Guarda, we are in a special place: the very narrow hybrid zone, where you can find the widespread House sparrow and the Italian sparrow!
Peter and Rosemary told us to look for male sparrows with a chestnut-brown crown, white over the eye and larger black bibs. After repeated inquiries (“Is that the one?!”), there they suddenly were. Not just any sparrow: a rare and beautiful evolutionary event, spotted through our binoculars.
It was the first time I’d seen a homoploid hybrid, but Peter and Rosemary had seen it before. They have been following its origin for 31 years.
In 1981, in Daphne Major (Galapagos), they discovered one somewhat odd bird: it resembled a familiar species, but was 70% larger, and sang a melody they had never heard before… However, despite unusual, this individual had no problems surviving or reproducing. Fast-forward… a new lineage of Darwin’s finches arises, right in front of their eyes: the Big Bird lineage.
A single individual originated a new species, and thus — after this story — Rosemary gave us some very important advice:
“Treasure your exceptions!”
The Guarda legacy
It was, overall, a week of wonder, discovery, and excitement. At the end, we had a fantastic barbecue and went home more knowledgeable on the two main aspects of the scientific life:
I) how to look at nature and ask questions
II) how to convince others that those questions deserve investment
There are plenty more beautiful evolution stories all around us, waiting to be told. We just need to do more than just look: we need to marvel and wonder (and get a grant)!
If you would like to participate in the next Guarda workshop (2019), check the website and keep an eye on application dates, and don’t forget to pack your binoculars, camera and field-guides!
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