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Spiders in Borneo: The Music of Biodiversity

This article was published in Scientific American’s former blog network and reflects the views of the author, not necessarily those of Scientific American


On the plane flight home, I feel the afterglow of five weeks of walking on paths in Bornean rainforest, of living smells and stubborn itches, of jumping spider faces looking up at me. So many little faces, so many newly met. I'd never seen a living Hispo before, nor most of the other species we found. It's a wonderful feeling, to have my mind full of all these spiders.

Indulge me, please, as I explain that last comment (mind full of spiders -- wonderful?), and tell you why I am a scientist. When asked about our motivations, we scientists are trained to answer that we're interested in such-and-such conceptually challenging question because of its broad applicability to this-and-that. These are valid answers as to why these studies should be done. These are the reasons resources should be invested in this research. But, is that really why most of us are scientists?

When that Phidippus audax female looked up at me 4 decades ago, I didn't think "Ah, what a perfect study organism to experiment on!" I was, simply, fascinated by her actions, by her reactions to the world around her. I was amazed by her eyes, her metallic green jaws and by the intricately diverse pelage arranged over her body. Seeing her, a whole world opened up, the world of Phidippus audax, as deep and detailed as the world of any species -- dogs, or roses -- but altogether mysterious.


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But, it was when I began to look at other jumping spiders that I heard the music. I found other jumping spider species with forms and colors that differed from hers just a bit, or a lot. Her singular nature extended through her colleagues to a melody, to rhythms, variations on a theme full of patterns and yet surprises. As beautiful as an ornamented male salticid may be, ready to dance to the female, what caught my eye were the patterns in diversity. Here is a plate from my doctoral thesis, showing a part of the spider's body and how it appears in each of 35 different species (2 are the same species). Not only is each a small, abstract sculpture, but together the array of them almost dances as my eye moves from one species to the next.

There are moments when I feel I am not a scientist at all, but a curator of the most beautiful art gallery ever assembled. Each species is a work of art. Together, they make the music of diversity.

The static variation of forms we see around us makes but a short moment in this four-billion-years symphonic epic. Now that we know that Life diversified by the splitting of ancestral species repeatedly, genetic lineages branching to form the evolutionary tree of life, we can begin to hear the entire symphony. A single voice, complex in overtones, sings. It splits into two voices, almost the same, but they begin to diverge. And so the voices proliferate into a chorus as the tree of life branches. It would be cacophony, except for three principles. They are all bound by the integrity demanded for survival. They will interact, ecologically, in counterpoint, or dissonance. And, in different parts of the evolutionary tree, voices will stumble on the same melody, converging as they solve life's challenges similarly. The complexity of this evolutionary symphony is overwhelming. But there is pattern, a dynamic pattern, and hence music. This is the beauty of biodiversity. This is why I am a scientist.

Leaving Sarawak, the music of jumping spider diversity is stuck in my head.

Previously in this series:

Spiders in Borneo: Introduction

Spiders in Borneo: Undiscovered biodiversity

Spiders in Borneo: The guests of honor: Salticidae

Spiders in Borneo: Team Salticid

Spiders in Borneo: Mulu National Park

Spiders in Borneo: Dreaming about salticid spiders

Spiders in Borneo: Jumping spiders in the forest

Spiders in Borneo: Beating around the bushes

Spiders in Borneo: Spiders in leaf litter

Spiders in Borneo: A Vertical Life

Spiders in Borneo: Leeches and eyeballs

Spiders in Borneo: Breaking News!

Spiders in Borneo: Falling from above

Spiders in Borneo: What I carry

Spiders in Borneo: Entangled and pierced

Spiders in Borneo: Scattered literature

Spiders in Borneo: Mulu wrap-up

Spiders in Borneo: Lambir Hills

Spiders in Borneo: Replaying the Tape of Life

Spiders in Borneo: More Hispo at Lambir

Spiders in Borneo: Geometrical Jumping spiders

Spiders in Borneo: Trees that grow from sky to ground

Spiders in Borneo: The spiders who wouldn’t be

Text and images © W. Maddison, under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 license (CC-BY)

Wayne Maddison is a biologist who studies the diversity and evolution of jumping spiders. When he was thirteen years old in Canada, a big jumping spider looked up at him with her big dark eyes, and he's been hooked ever since. Jumping spiders hunt like cats, creeping and pouncing, and the males perform amazing dances to females. His fascination with the many species of jumping spiders led to an interest in their evolutionary relationships, and then to methods for analyzing evolutionary history. He received a PhD from Harvard University. He is now a Professor at the University of British Columbia, and the Scientific Director of the Beaty Biodiversity Museum. He has taken it as his mission to travel to poorly known rainforests to document the many still-unknown species before they are gone, and to study them and preserve them in museums for future generations.

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