Elemental
From Antarctica to the Arctic Circle, musings from a freelance science writer
Elemental
Autism Article
Switching gears entirely from the arctic, the Chicago Tribune ran my story today on new autism research at UIC. A team of scientists is looking at the role of serotonin in autism, specifically its connection to the trait called "insistence on sameness," which about a quarter of people with autism have. They have a rigidity of routine and insist that daily activities occur in exactly the same way each time. When something goes awry, it can induce anything from anxiety to aggression.
The researchers are using a combination of genetic testing, experimental medication and high-resolution brain scans to try to understand this one piece of the puzzle that is autism. (Contact Kate Ernstrom’s at kernstrom@psych.uic.edu or 312-996-7835 for more information about participating in the study.)
In addition to explaining the research, I interviewed Alec Kedziora, a 17-year-old boy with autism who was part of the study.
Alec was articulate and eager to share his thoughts about having autism and how he's improved since taking the antidepressant that he was prescribed as part of the study. One of the great frustrations for families of people with autism, as well as for doctors treating them, is that people with the syndrome often can't explain what they're thinking or feeling. Talking with Alec was fascinating. Plus he has a great sense of humor and knew how to charm a journalist, often remarking "good question!" after I asked him what was different about his life since he started on the medication or what the hardest thing is about having autism.
I wasn't able to fit in nearly as much about Alec into the story as I wanted, so here is some of what ended up on the cutting room floor:
Alec Kedziora said very little until he was 5 years old. He used drawings to express himself.
Sometimes they were communiqués to his parents, Joe and NiCole Kedziora of Orland Park, like the time he drew a picture of the orange mini-golf ball he wanted to use. Other times they were purely creative pursuits, including his habit of drawing scenes from Disney movies in magic marker on the walls of his house.
Alec was diagnosed with autism when he was 3. He started talking more as he grew, but other problems appeared. He developed a rigidity that dictated that certain routines and situations stay exactly the same.
He was picky about foods, refusing anything new and subsisting on a self-selected diet heavy on Cheerios, Chex Mix and bacon. He insisted that all the doors in the house be kept closed. His morning routine was identical every day and timed perfectly. If he overslept by even a few minutes he would be late for school.
Though he was an affectionate, sweet kid, if a routine went awry, Alec often threw a fit and sometimes banged his head against a desk or wall.
In eighth grade he made a still-life drawing in art class. In soft colors, it depicts a photo of himself with his younger sister, Chloe, a jewelry box he gave his mom, and a stress ball he carried everywhere to help calm himself down. On the bottom he wrote: "I have often dreamed to have peace and happiness."
Around freshman year of high school things took a turn for the worse. His frustration used to be channeled into tears; suddenly he became aggressive.
His parents blame a combination of puberty and starting a new school with unfamiliar people and schedules. One day a boy taunted Alec a couple inches from his face, assuming Alec wouldn't understand. Alec shoved him and the two got in a fight. There were a handful of similar incidents that fall.
"We were mortified," his mother, NiCole, says.
Even Alec realized he was acting badly.
"I was suffering," Alec says. "I was sad about it."
His parents say he would apologize later for getting upset.
"It would be heartbreaking," Joe says. "He would say, 'I'm sorry I'm so difficult. I'm harder than other kids. I'm sorry I'm so sensitive. I can't let it go. I can't move on.'"
Alec's life changed immediately and dramatically as soon as he started taking the antidepressant Lexapro.
"This medicine can calm me down," he says. The best part of the Lexapro, he says, is "getting through my day so well."
He's able to vary his routine. He can change the order of dinner and a shower, something that used to be fixed, and gets to school on time if he oversleeps. He's become an adventurous eater, trying cheddar broccoli soup, which has a consistency that grossed him out in the past. And he's open to learning new things. Alec has played lacrosse for four years, but he's more coachable on Lexapro.
Mostly, he's able to keep his frustration in check and talk through his feelings if something upsets him. He hasn't gotten into fights at school since starting the medication.
He's still an avid drawer, and his room is filled with precise sketches of comic book characters he invented, haunted mansions and fairy tale castles.
He was excited to be part of the UIC study, he says, because it meant, "that I could help children who have autism disabilities."
He particularly enjoyed looking at the images from his brain scans.
"I got to see my own brain," he says, "where there is autism in it."
The researchers are using a combination of genetic testing, experimental medication and high-resolution brain scans to try to understand this one piece of the puzzle that is autism. (Contact Kate Ernstrom’s at kernstrom@psych.uic.edu or 312-996-7835 for more information about participating in the study.)
In addition to explaining the research, I interviewed Alec Kedziora, a 17-year-old boy with autism who was part of the study.
Alec was articulate and eager to share his thoughts about having autism and how he's improved since taking the antidepressant that he was prescribed as part of the study. One of the great frustrations for families of people with autism, as well as for doctors treating them, is that people with the syndrome often can't explain what they're thinking or feeling. Talking with Alec was fascinating. Plus he has a great sense of humor and knew how to charm a journalist, often remarking "good question!" after I asked him what was different about his life since he started on the medication or what the hardest thing is about having autism.
I wasn't able to fit in nearly as much about Alec into the story as I wanted, so here is some of what ended up on the cutting room floor:
Alec Kedziora said very little until he was 5 years old. He used drawings to express himself.
Sometimes they were communiqués to his parents, Joe and NiCole Kedziora of Orland Park, like the time he drew a picture of the orange mini-golf ball he wanted to use. Other times they were purely creative pursuits, including his habit of drawing scenes from Disney movies in magic marker on the walls of his house.
Alec was diagnosed with autism when he was 3. He started talking more as he grew, but other problems appeared. He developed a rigidity that dictated that certain routines and situations stay exactly the same.
He was picky about foods, refusing anything new and subsisting on a self-selected diet heavy on Cheerios, Chex Mix and bacon. He insisted that all the doors in the house be kept closed. His morning routine was identical every day and timed perfectly. If he overslept by even a few minutes he would be late for school.
Though he was an affectionate, sweet kid, if a routine went awry, Alec often threw a fit and sometimes banged his head against a desk or wall.
In eighth grade he made a still-life drawing in art class. In soft colors, it depicts a photo of himself with his younger sister, Chloe, a jewelry box he gave his mom, and a stress ball he carried everywhere to help calm himself down. On the bottom he wrote: "I have often dreamed to have peace and happiness."
Around freshman year of high school things took a turn for the worse. His frustration used to be channeled into tears; suddenly he became aggressive.
His parents blame a combination of puberty and starting a new school with unfamiliar people and schedules. One day a boy taunted Alec a couple inches from his face, assuming Alec wouldn't understand. Alec shoved him and the two got in a fight. There were a handful of similar incidents that fall.
"We were mortified," his mother, NiCole, says.
Even Alec realized he was acting badly.
"I was suffering," Alec says. "I was sad about it."
His parents say he would apologize later for getting upset.
"It would be heartbreaking," Joe says. "He would say, 'I'm sorry I'm so difficult. I'm harder than other kids. I'm sorry I'm so sensitive. I can't let it go. I can't move on.'"
Alec's life changed immediately and dramatically as soon as he started taking the antidepressant Lexapro.
"This medicine can calm me down," he says. The best part of the Lexapro, he says, is "getting through my day so well."
He's able to vary his routine. He can change the order of dinner and a shower, something that used to be fixed, and gets to school on time if he oversleeps. He's become an adventurous eater, trying cheddar broccoli soup, which has a consistency that grossed him out in the past. And he's open to learning new things. Alec has played lacrosse for four years, but he's more coachable on Lexapro.
Mostly, he's able to keep his frustration in check and talk through his feelings if something upsets him. He hasn't gotten into fights at school since starting the medication.
He's still an avid drawer, and his room is filled with precise sketches of comic book characters he invented, haunted mansions and fairy tale castles.
He was excited to be part of the UIC study, he says, because it meant, "that I could help children who have autism disabilities."
He particularly enjoyed looking at the images from his brain scans.
"I got to see my own brain," he says, "where there is autism in it."
Thermokarst
The trick with having a surface that sits on ice – which is what permafrost tundra is – is that if that ice melts, the ground falls away.
That's what's happening across the arctic in a phenomenon known as thermokarst. The underground ice melts, the water rushes away and the ground collapses into a sinkhole. That's bad news for any buildings or roadsthat straddle a thermokarst. Now scientists are starting to study what it means for the ecosystems around the holes, particularly when they abut a stream or lake.
Yesterday we visited a thermokarst on a stream that feeds into the
We took water samples and started running tests on them to see what the difference in nutrient levels was above and below the thermokarst.We've just started analyzing the data, but it looks like a significant amount of the nitrate in the
The photo below shows the stream with the thermokarst. The green grass on the bottom left is actually the stream, then it opens up dramatically into the thermokarst.
A few photos
The view from camp at 12:30 a.m. on June 21, the solstice.
The moose we saw on our drive from Fairbanks to Toolik.
Toolik River, where we sampled for nutrients today. The mountains in the background are in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.
The moose we saw on our drive from Fairbanks to Toolik.
Toolik River, where we sampled for nutrients today. The mountains in the background are in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.
Changing rivers
Linda Deegan, a senior scientist at MBL who studies an arctic fish called the grayling, doesn't need to see temperature stats to know that the climate around Lake Toolik is changing. She just has to check her travel calendar.
When Deegan started coming to Toolik in the 1980s, scientists like herself who are interested in water didn't get to station until late June or early July. In recent years the ice out date has gotten earlier and earlier and she now arrives earlier and earlier to do her science. We spent the day with her on the Kuparuk River today, testing the water for nutrients and insects.
Deegan has noticed a dramatic difference in the grayling population on the Kuparuk. In the mid-90s, when she strung a net across the river for two weeks, she'd collect 2,000 to 3,000 fish. When she did the same test a few years ago, she only caught 700.
"The biology is telling us that the system is changing," she said.
She believes the culprit is a number of dry years that are causing the rivers to dry out in spots. Grayling, like all arctic fish, must get out of the rivers during the winters because they freeze solid. Some fish, like salmon, head to the oceans. Others, including the grayling, swim to deep lakes that retain open water below an icy surface. But if the rivers don't run straight through to the lakes the grayling can't reach their winter homes and they die.
The overall population of grayling in the arctic is healthy, Deegan said. But she's worried that if the Kuparuk population gets hit with many more drought years, they may fall below sustainable levels.
Deegan is also interested in what the earlier ice out dates will mean for trout, which prey on the grayling in their winter lakes. Trout need light to feed, so the start date for their hunting is fixed. (Global warming doesn't change the cycle of daylight, of course.) So if the rivers warm up sooner and sooner and the grayling take off into the rivers sooner and sooner, the trout will have fewer days in which to eat.
When Deegan started coming to Toolik in the 1980s, scientists like herself who are interested in water didn't get to station until late June or early July. In recent years the ice out date has gotten earlier and earlier and she now arrives earlier and earlier to do her science. We spent the day with her on the Kuparuk River today, testing the water for nutrients and insects.
Deegan has noticed a dramatic difference in the grayling population on the Kuparuk. In the mid-90s, when she strung a net across the river for two weeks, she'd collect 2,000 to 3,000 fish. When she did the same test a few years ago, she only caught 700.
"The biology is telling us that the system is changing," she said.
She believes the culprit is a number of dry years that are causing the rivers to dry out in spots. Grayling, like all arctic fish, must get out of the rivers during the winters because they freeze solid. Some fish, like salmon, head to the oceans. Others, including the grayling, swim to deep lakes that retain open water below an icy surface. But if the rivers don't run straight through to the lakes the grayling can't reach their winter homes and they die.
The overall population of grayling in the arctic is healthy, Deegan said. But she's worried that if the Kuparuk population gets hit with many more drought years, they may fall below sustainable levels.
Deegan is also interested in what the earlier ice out dates will mean for trout, which prey on the grayling in their winter lakes. Trout need light to feed, so the start date for their hunting is fixed. (Global warming doesn't change the cycle of daylight, of course.) So if the rivers warm up sooner and sooner and the grayling take off into the rivers sooner and sooner, the trout will have fewer days in which to eat.
First few days
They've kept us incredibly busy so far and I haven't had a chance to write before now. We've had a bunch of interesting lectures from researchers, both in Fairbanks and during our first day at Toolik. I'll give some highlights from those talks below.
Our drive to Toolik was long and bumpy, along the mostly dirt Dalton Highway. (Call it the "haul road" if you want to sound like a local.) It was built along side the pipeline, which was our faithful companion the whole 13-hour trip, snaking next to us through spruce forest, over the Brooks Mountains and into the tundra of the North Slope. It was cloudy and drizzly most of the trip, but the scenery, particular through the jagged, craggy mountains was spectacular. We saw one moose, one rainbow and three sheep, along with several alarmingly large armies of mosquitoes. We'll drive up to Prudhoe Bay toward the end of our time here, which is on the Arctic Ocean, and are hoping for some caribou and muskox sightings en route.
The camp sits on the edge of the lake and is made up of metal trailers and half-moon shaped tents, one of which I'm sleeping in and one of which we're working in, neither of which are heated. It's about 40-45 degrees now, but we're bundled up enough to stay warm most of the time. And they feed us enough to generate plenty of fuel. The meals have been amazing so far. Green curry, corn chowder, turkey pot pie, homemade oatmeal raisin cookies, and as much cereal and candy bars as you can eat.
I'll give more details of the station once I've explored more.
As for the science, here are some of the most interesting tidbits from our lectures so far:
* 2004 was the worst year for wildfires that Alaska has ever had and 2005 was the third worst. The number of lightening strikes has increased dramatically in the past 8-10 years and because the state is so big, it doesn't try to put out fires unless they're threatening buildings. Forest fires change the make up of the plants there allowing deciduous trees to thrive in areas previously dominated by spruce.
* The largest tundra fire ever recorded (it burned an area the size of Cape Cod) happened nearby in 2007 and researchers are eager to learn what effect that will have on the ecosystem given that it appears to affect forests quite dramatically. Initial reports are that it released a large amount of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere.
* In a lecture on strategies animals use to overwinter in the arctic we learned that some animals can cleanse their blood of the things that trigger ice formation and can survive below freezing. One beetle can essentially turn itself to glass and survive down to -100C, then spring back to life when warmed.
* Researchers brought a hibernating, sedated black bear to Fairbanks and installed him in a constructed den. They trained a camera on him all winter and he slept the whole time, except for on New Year's Eve when the boom of the town's fireworks display could be heard in his den. The bear opened his eyes, looked around a few times, appeared thoroughly annoyed, then stuck his paw over his head and went back to sleep.
* Researchers are investigating whether hibernation techniques -- where animals slow down their hearts and need for oxygen -- can be used on humans. The military is funding some of the research to see if, for example, a soldier who is shot could be put into a hibernation state where he doesn't need as much blood or oxygen until he can be treated at a hospital.
* We got a tour of an old mining tunnel dug through permafrost near Fairbanks that's been taken over by the Army Corps of Engineers for research.There's ice at the back of it that's 20,000 to 40,000 years old with bacteria inside that, if thawed, come back to life. Our scientist-guide dubbed it "the real Jurassic Park."
Our drive to Toolik was long and bumpy, along the mostly dirt Dalton Highway. (Call it the "haul road" if you want to sound like a local.) It was built along side the pipeline, which was our faithful companion the whole 13-hour trip, snaking next to us through spruce forest, over the Brooks Mountains and into the tundra of the North Slope. It was cloudy and drizzly most of the trip, but the scenery, particular through the jagged, craggy mountains was spectacular. We saw one moose, one rainbow and three sheep, along with several alarmingly large armies of mosquitoes. We'll drive up to Prudhoe Bay toward the end of our time here, which is on the Arctic Ocean, and are hoping for some caribou and muskox sightings en route.
The camp sits on the edge of the lake and is made up of metal trailers and half-moon shaped tents, one of which I'm sleeping in and one of which we're working in, neither of which are heated. It's about 40-45 degrees now, but we're bundled up enough to stay warm most of the time. And they feed us enough to generate plenty of fuel. The meals have been amazing so far. Green curry, corn chowder, turkey pot pie, homemade oatmeal raisin cookies, and as much cereal and candy bars as you can eat.
I'll give more details of the station once I've explored more.
As for the science, here are some of the most interesting tidbits from our lectures so far:
* 2004 was the worst year for wildfires that Alaska has ever had and 2005 was the third worst. The number of lightening strikes has increased dramatically in the past 8-10 years and because the state is so big, it doesn't try to put out fires unless they're threatening buildings. Forest fires change the make up of the plants there allowing deciduous trees to thrive in areas previously dominated by spruce.
* The largest tundra fire ever recorded (it burned an area the size of Cape Cod) happened nearby in 2007 and researchers are eager to learn what effect that will have on the ecosystem given that it appears to affect forests quite dramatically. Initial reports are that it released a large amount of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere.
* In a lecture on strategies animals use to overwinter in the arctic we learned that some animals can cleanse their blood of the things that trigger ice formation and can survive below freezing. One beetle can essentially turn itself to glass and survive down to -100C, then spring back to life when warmed.
* Researchers brought a hibernating, sedated black bear to Fairbanks and installed him in a constructed den. They trained a camera on him all winter and he slept the whole time, except for on New Year's Eve when the boom of the town's fireworks display could be heard in his den. The bear opened his eyes, looked around a few times, appeared thoroughly annoyed, then stuck his paw over his head and went back to sleep.
* Researchers are investigating whether hibernation techniques -- where animals slow down their hearts and need for oxygen -- can be used on humans. The military is funding some of the research to see if, for example, a soldier who is shot could be put into a hibernation state where he doesn't need as much blood or oxygen until he can be treated at a hospital.
* We got a tour of an old mining tunnel dug through permafrost near Fairbanks that's been taken over by the Army Corps of Engineers for research.There's ice at the back of it that's 20,000 to 40,000 years old with bacteria inside that, if thawed, come back to life. Our scientist-guide dubbed it "the real Jurassic Park."
Off to Alaska
Tomorrow I head to Alaska for a 2.5-week science journalism fellowship at a small field camp on the North Slope. The camp, Lake Toolik, is run by the University of Alaska and houses about 100 scientists who study mostly polar ecology.
For example, they're looking at the impact of melting permafrost on future climate change. Permafrost holds an enormous amount of organic matter frozen inside. When it melts it releases CO2 and methane – both greenhouse gases – into the atmosphere, causing more warming and creating a positive feedback loop. (Click here to download a PDF of a story I wrote about a scientist focusing on methane release from melting permafrost. The story starts on Page 3.) Scientists at Toolik are also looking at whether the increase in shrubs in the arctic, which is caused by warming temperatures, might slow warming in the future.
Lake Toolik is above the Arctic Circle, about 350 miles south of the Arctic Ocean. The nine of us in the fellowship will be playing scientist while we're there, doing research in the field and then processing our samples and analyzing our findings back in the lab. The fellowship is run by the Marine Biological Lab, a research institution out of Woods Hole, Massachusetts that sends many scientists to Toolik each summer. MBL's goal for the fellowship is to educate journalists about polar science so we can do a better job of writing about it.
I'm planning to blog as frequently as possible about what we're seeing and learning, as well as my impressions of life at the camp and how it compares to McMurdo Station, Antarctica where I spent two summers as a science writer. (Click here to read my article on life at McMurdo from The American Scholar.) I'll also be blogging for Polar Field Notes, an arctic science newsletter put out by the company that runs the logistics at Toolik.
For example, they're looking at the impact of melting permafrost on future climate change. Permafrost holds an enormous amount of organic matter frozen inside. When it melts it releases CO2 and methane – both greenhouse gases – into the atmosphere, causing more warming and creating a positive feedback loop. (Click here to download a PDF of a story I wrote about a scientist focusing on methane release from melting permafrost. The story starts on Page 3.) Scientists at Toolik are also looking at whether the increase in shrubs in the arctic, which is caused by warming temperatures, might slow warming in the future.
Lake Toolik is above the Arctic Circle, about 350 miles south of the Arctic Ocean. The nine of us in the fellowship will be playing scientist while we're there, doing research in the field and then processing our samples and analyzing our findings back in the lab. The fellowship is run by the Marine Biological Lab, a research institution out of Woods Hole, Massachusetts that sends many scientists to Toolik each summer. MBL's goal for the fellowship is to educate journalists about polar science so we can do a better job of writing about it.
I'm planning to blog as frequently as possible about what we're seeing and learning, as well as my impressions of life at the camp and how it compares to McMurdo Station, Antarctica where I spent two summers as a science writer. (Click here to read my article on life at McMurdo from The American Scholar.) I'll also be blogging for Polar Field Notes, an arctic science newsletter put out by the company that runs the logistics at Toolik.
Welcome to my blog
Facebook profile? Check.
Twitter account? Check.
Digital TV converter box? Check. (With 36 hours to spare, thank you very much.)
I've taken a giant leap into the 21st century in the past six months and the next logical step was a blog. So here we are. Welcome.
I picked the name Elemental because it means that which is at the core of or is an essential part of an idea or thing. As a science writer, I try to break concepts down to their elemental parts -- first in my own brain so I can understand them and then in writing so I can explain them in a lively and engaging way.
I plan to use this space as a way to discuss the freelance stories I'm working on and offer more information and depth than can fit into the limited word count I'm allotted in print. I'll also showcase stories that I like from other writers, and offer thoughts about current events in the worlds of science and journalism. I imagine this will be a work in progress for a while, and look forward to your comments and feedback.
Bookmark me. Link me. Pass me along to your friends. And let me know what you think.
Twitter account? Check.
Digital TV converter box? Check. (With 36 hours to spare, thank you very much.)
I've taken a giant leap into the 21st century in the past six months and the next logical step was a blog. So here we are. Welcome.
I picked the name Elemental because it means that which is at the core of or is an essential part of an idea or thing. As a science writer, I try to break concepts down to their elemental parts -- first in my own brain so I can understand them and then in writing so I can explain them in a lively and engaging way.
I plan to use this space as a way to discuss the freelance stories I'm working on and offer more information and depth than can fit into the limited word count I'm allotted in print. I'll also showcase stories that I like from other writers, and offer thoughts about current events in the worlds of science and journalism. I imagine this will be a work in progress for a while, and look forward to your comments and feedback.
Bookmark me. Link me. Pass me along to your friends. And let me know what you think.