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Wingéd
chorale
In birdsong, CAS biologist hears more than male voices
By Tim Stoddard
Boston’s flowerbeds are still days away from a burst of daffodils,
but the feathered harbingers of spring arrived on campus weeks ago, belting
out their melodies from tree branches and powerlines. Songbirds like
the Northern cardinal have been adding their voices to BU’s urban
symphony, and for Ayako Yamaguchi, a cardinal’s song is more than
a pleasant assurance of spring: it’s a biological puzzle that may
shed light on how birds and whales and humans learn to vocalize.
Yamaguchi,
who recently joined the CAS biology department as an assistant professor,
has been listening closely to young cardinals, and she’s
found that the drab brown females learn to sing three times faster than
the flashy red males. It’s the most dramatic example of learning
disparities between male and female animals found to date, she says,
and it’s leading to new insights into the sexual differences in
singing.
“
People have studied birdsong for about 50 years now,” Yamaguchi
says, “and so we know a lot about how and when birds learn to sing,
and how accurately they can imitate songs. But we don’t know anything
about how females learn songs because all the research is done on males.”
Male
birds have taken center stage, she says, because in temperate zones,
there are only a few species in which both sexes sing. And since the
majority of biologists live and work in temperate zones, it’s natural
that the literature has focused on male singers. But that leaves a significant
hole in the literature concerning female songbirds, which is especially
acute in the tropics, where singing is common in both males and females.
As a graduate student, Yamaguchi decided to blaze a new trail in birdsong
research by comparing male and female vocal learning in the Northern
cardinal, one of the few temperate species in which both males and females
sing. She collected chicks in the Arizona desert and carried them in
a cotton-ball-padded yogurt container back to her laboratory at the University
of California, Davis, where she began the laborious process of raising
the little birds. “You have to feed them every half hour from six
in the morning to eight at night for the first two weeks of their lives,” she
says. “It’s a pretty intensive effort.”
The chicks
grew up in special sound chambers with microphones and speakers that
play back the songs of adult cardinals. It takes about a year for
a cardinal to learn to sing properly, Yamaguchi says, and like human
infants acquiring speech, young songbirds learn to sing by imitating
adults. The early months are part of the so-called sensitive phase, when
the chicks don’t say anything, but listen attentively to singing
adults to memorize their songs. Then the practicing begins. “Their
initial attempts are pretty miserable,” she says, “but they
practice and practice until it matches the memory that was formed earlier
during the sensitive phase.”
Yamaguchi found that male and female
cardinals actually have sexually distinctive voices, like sopranos and
baritones. Even an avid birdwatcher
would be strapped to pick out a male cardinal’s song from a female’s,
however, but in 1998 Yamaguchi analyzed the songs of juvenile birds and
found that the females sing with more overtones, creating a slightly
nasal sound. Young males also go through a nasal, warbly phase as their
testosterone kicks in, she says, but it’s as though the females
continue to sing with an adolescent male’s voice.
More important,
Yamaguchi discovered that female cardinals memorize adult songs three
times faster than males. While both sexes ultimately learned
the same number of song types, the females’ sensitive phase was
only a third as long as the males’. The different learning rates
may reflect an evolutionary adaptation. Like other songbirds, juvenile
cardinals disperse from their parents’ territory about 45 days
after hatching to establish their own turf before their first breeding
season. Away from their natal nest, the young cardinals are suddenly
immersed in the new song dialects of other adult cardinals. It appears
that females lose the ability to learn new dialects when they disperse,
while males are able to learn them and “fit in” with their
new neighbors.
“
It might be that males retain the ability to learn songs longer than
females so that they can have a better chance of establishing territory
in a new area,” Yamaguchi says. “For males, song-matching
and fitting into the crowd in a new place are really important, while
they’re not for females.” It’s not clear why female
cardinals have a shorter window of vocal learning, she says, but then
again, “we don’t really know why females sing at all, or
how they use their songs.” One hypothesis, she says, is that females
sing as a species identification tool, a greeting card to male cardinals
that says, “I’m an eligible mate; come court me.” Other
researchers have proposed that female cardinals sing to shoo away brightly
colored mates from the nest when a predator is nearby, warning the males
not to attract attention to the vulnerable chicks. “I know that
female cardinals also use songs in aggressive behavior,” Yamaguchi
says. “I’ve seen females battling each other in the field,
and they’re singing the whole time as they bang into each other.”
Pavarotti of the pond
Yamaguchi is still feathering
her lab at BU, but already she’s
found a home for the African clawed frogs that she has recently begun
studying along with songbirds. She wants to better understand the neurological
changes in male and female cardinals as they acquire song, but it’s
difficult to track changes in a bird’s brain through time. Instead,
she has turned to a simpler singer, the African clawed frog. Both male
and female frogs vocalize underwater with a single pair of muscles in
the larynx. Male frogs purr like a revving engine, while females pipe
out a slower-paced “crick . . . crick . . . crick.” In her
postdoctoral work at Columbia University, Yamaguchi discovered that both
male and female frogs were sending the same neural signals from their
brains to their voice boxes to make the sounds. But the male frog brains
somehow send the “crick” message faster and more accurately,
so that their laryngeal muscles contract at a faster rate than those
of females.
“
That finding was quite new, and it was quite a tour de force to demonstrate
it so clearly in frogs,” says Peter Marler, a songbird expert at
U.C. Davis and Yamaguchi’s Ph.D. advisor. “Ayako’s
great achievement was to show that it’s not sufficient simply to
look at the vocal apparatus to explain the difference between male and
female calling. You have to look back up into the brain for a full understanding.”
At
the larger scale, Yamaguchi’s work may someday have applications
for other species that learn to vocalize, such as Homo sapiens. Human
infants learn to speak the same way that cardinal chicks do, and the
cardinal results also parallel the subtle but consistent gender differences
in human speech acquisition. “Ultimately, the question is, how
do male and female brains work differently?” she says.
It’s
a fitting question, considering that Yamaguchi became interested in language
acquisition as she herself was learning to speak English
at the age of 15. Born and raised in Tokyo, she spent a year of high
school on an exchange program in southern Utah. “At the beginning,
I couldn’t understand a word they were saying,” she says
without a trace of accent. “Then slowly I began to understand and
imitate the vocalizations that people were making, and I thought it was
such a fascinating process, converting auditory information into motor
output.”
Returning to Tokyo, Yamaguchi enrolled in the prestigious
Japan Women’s
University, where studying biology was something of a challenge. “The
university prides itself on producing good wives and wise mothers,” she
says with an ironic grin. “Eighty percent of the prime ministers’ wives
are from our college.” A skilled experimentalist, Yamaguchi admits
that cooking and cleaning are not her forte.
Yamaguchi’s lab is
unusually quiet these days, but she expects that to change next spring
when she resumes her cardinal work. The new
cardinals will learn to sing in a sound isolation room in the basement
of the biological sciences building, hopefully out of earshot of faculty
and students upstairs. “When they start singing, the sound pressure
is about 90 decibels at one meter away,” she says, “which
is like standing on a subway platform and having a train pass by.” |
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