What would happen if everyone in Singapore disappears?

Have you ever wondered what would happen to the world if every human were to disappear? Perhaps you would’ve thought that since climate change is due to humans, the climate would reverse back to pre-humanity conditions, but this will take a long time (around 100,000 years actually). So what are some immediate effects, especially on our little island? Let’s take look!

Dangerous Yams?!

Do you know that NParks conducts frequent trimming of weeds in Singapore’s reserves? This ensures that native plants are not smothered by these invasive species and maintains the ecosystem balance in our reserves. An example of an invasive species is the Dioscorea sansibarensis, or Zanzibar yam.

All of these are poisonous!

It is a climber which is native to Africa. What makes it so dangerous to its environment is that essentially, the entire plant is toxic. The “yam” part of the plant is often harvested for use in making hunting poison (or even poison for suicide or homicides)! As an invasive species, the Dioscorea has been recorded to overwhelm canopies with its leaves, preventing plants below its leaves from photosynthesising. Wildlife might consume parts of the plant and risk poisoning themselves too. Many areas suffering from this plant’s overgrowth have failed to recover naturally 😦

Imagine if there are no humans around to eradicate these invasive species in our reserves – many of our native species will be out-competed! If keystone plants and primary forests are affected, it might cause a detrimental impact in larger scales.

There are monkeys jumping on the bed!

Ever seen these large banners informing park-goers to refrain from feeding the monkeys?

The reason for this is to prevent these macaques, or wildlife in general, to be dependent on humans for food. Unfortunately, most macaques in Singapore are already used to getting scraps of human food and might even attack people in hopes of getting something to eat. In fact, we always warn our participants who go on our tours to keep any plastic bags they have in their bags as these macaques have associated plastic bags with food!

Without humans, there isn’t much to stop these macaques from invading the urban areas for food and territory. Thus, if everyone were to vanish, human-dependent wildlife will definitely be the first to expand into our homes in search for new habitats and food.

Of course, it is very unlikely for us to disappear in a snap. However, it is interesting to think about what the world would’ve looked like or behaved without anthropogenic interruptions. What are some situations you think might arise from the sudden disappearance of humans? Feel free to share them in the comments below!

Written by: Hui Yi

Fragrant Frangipani Fans

Clusters of rich, pink flowers decorate its branches, sprinkled among the foliage. Yes, I’m talking about the frangipani tree! I recall that when I was very young, I loved to pick up fallen frangipani flowers and admire them. I’m sure many of you have done the same! I’ve always admired the beauty of the frangipani tree. So, allow me to share more about it with you!

Photo of the frangipani plant outside the University Health Centre in NUS

There are a few different species of frangipani, which come in a range of colours: red, yellow, white and pink. The species of frangipani commonly found in Singapore is the plumeria rubra. ‘Plumeira’ refers to the genus of the flower, while ‘rubra’ means red in Latin. It first appeared in parts of South and Central America. In Singapore, you can find the frangipani along roadsides, as well as in the Singapore Botanic Gardens. It is also found near Buddhist temples as the frangipani plant is a symbol of rebirth.

Interestingly, plumeria rubra produces no nectar, attracts pollinators with a unique floral scent which is more noticeable at night. This is how pollinators are fooled into pollinating the frangipani plants’ flowers. Sneaky, isn’t it?

If you thought that the frangipani plant was completely harmless, you’re about to get a shock! The frangipani tree contains poisonous “milky” sap, even in the leaf stems. This could irritate your skin and cause rashes. To prevent such a case, let’s not pluck leaves or flowers which are still on the frangipani tree! It is important to leave the plant alone so that we may prevent injury to ourselves and preserve the plant’s beauty.

There is a well-known spirit in Singapore – the Pontianak. A figure from Malay lore, she is an Asian vampire hungry for vengeance for wrong-doings to herself after dying during childbirth. She can make even the strongest among us tremble just thinking about her. Perhaps it is her frighteningly long, claw-like nails, or her glowing red eyes. It is said that the fragrant frangipani flower smell will hit your nose at night, right before the Pontianak pounces on her victim. There is little hope of escaping her claws. She sure is spooky!

Boo! (Art: Chern Ling)

On the flipside, in Singapore’s context, the frangipani flower holds particular significance to the Hindu community. The frangipani flower symbolises love and loyalty to your spouse in Hindu culture. Hence, it is usually included during wedding ceremonies, to welcome the couple as they embark on their journey into marriage and their future together. Frangipanis are also used as decorations and in perfume production.

Evidently, the frangipani is a plant that is deeply rooted in Asian culture. Different cultures could have different perceptions of what the frangipani symbolises. To end off, here is some food for thought: What does the frangipani represent to you?

Written by: Fang Ning

Finding Samurai

They can’t say for sure how old he is, or how healthy he is. They’re not certain which trees he sleeps in at night. But they know he is alone, and that’s how they knew to call him Samurai.

The Raffles’ Banded Langur Working Group couldn’t exist without pure optimism. Deforestation and urbanization have pushed the native critically endangered Raffles’ Banded Langur population further and further into the Central Catchment Nature Reserve, where they have dwindled down to fifty individuals. On top of that, the working group discovered in early 2018 that a male individual had been separated from his troop, and was wandering an isolated patch of forest alone. During my brief time as an intern at the Jane Goodall Institute (Singapore), I stumbled over roots and pricked my fingers on thorns as I followed the volunteers, combing the forest patch, mornings and afternoons, day after day, for the slightest sign of him.

Here’s what it all comes down to: we need every single Raffles’ Banded Langur out there; every individual that carries the genes of the Presbytis femoralis femoralis is precious. A lost male is a lost parent is a lost generation. Samurai has to be taken out of that isolated forest patch where no one but a troop of wary macaques even remotely looks like him, and returned to his own troop.

The key is the sleeping tree. When a volunteer spots him resting on a tree, a ribbon goes around that trunk. Sometimes the trees are so old that it takes two of us on either side, giving its wide girth as tight a bear hug as we can manage, so that our outstretched fingers can meet each other just long enough to pass the ribbon over. We do this over and over, because we’re not sure which ones he sleeps in at night, which ones he naps in, and which ones he just plain sits and takes a dump in. Most shifts, we don’t even see him, just the bounce in the canopy as he bolts from our sight, leaving us with a heavy rustling. But once the all-important tree is identified, a team of specialists will sneak into the forest before dawn and gather around it. They will scan the overhead boughs for Samurai’s sleeping form. They will aim and shoot a tranquilizing dart, and if all goes well, he will be falling into a net and whisked away before he even begins to understand that something’s out of the ordinary.

Once he’s determined to be healthy, he will be reunited with his troop. That is, if all goes well. If they ever find his sleeping tree. If he doesn’t get spooked and abandon his usual haunts. It would all be so much easier if they could just read his mind, but you don’t try to get into the head of a wild animal the way you invent gadgets to translate dog barks. You observe and take notes and do what you can, because you weren’t evolved to be best buddies or to gently place your hands palm to palm like in Tarzan. You’re just two components of the same world. In Singapore, not many of us become close friends with our neighbours. But we sweep the corridor and press the lift button for each other and turn down the music at night.

On my last ever shift, I was re-entering the forest for a second round, and a silhouette leapt from a disturbance in the canopy and landed on a branch just a few metres from me, low enough that I only had to raise my head a little to see. My eyes were caught off guard and unfocused, but I remember that our gazes met. I turned to softly call my companion, and then he was already nothing more than the sound of branches crashing in the distance. You must have seen the ubiquitous Long-tailed Macaque before, so imagine this: twice as large, black hair instead of brown, tinged very slightly with purple. Limbs somehow stockier. Tail always longer than you expect; white smudges on the abdomen and the inner sides of the arms and legs. Quiet, inscrutable.

Photo: Sabrina Jabbar

Written by: Qiu Jiahui

 

The Not So Common Common Myna

Don’t worry, it’s not a typo error. It is true that Common Myna are not a common sight anymore, sadly. Common Myna are native to Asia, so you might wonder what happened to them. I’ll go into that soon but before that, let me introduce you to them!

Common Myna (Acridotheres Tristis) by smarko on pixabay https://pixabay.com/en/common-myna-acridotheres-tristis-1367119/

“Wait, isn’t this the bird I see all over Singapore? I’m sure I see some in my neighbourhood. Who says it’s not common?”

Did that thought come to your mind? I honestly won’t be surprised if it did because I thought the same way too, but no! These birds are different from the one you see around which are the Javan Myna.

Let’s spot the differences between the Common Myna and Javan Myna!

Javan Myna (Acridotheres javanicus) from Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Javan_myna

Have you spotted the stark difference? Take a closer look at its eyes. You would have noticed that the skin near the eyes of the Common Myna is yellow. To me (someone who isn’t a bird person), that is one way to differentiate between these two birds. Or you could take a closer look and realise that the Javan Myna is mainly black in colour while the Common Myna is actually a dark brown. But then again, birds move, and I’m pretty sure black and dark brown are not very easy to tell apart from a distance, so let’s stick with the yellow skin around the eyes.

Now that we have learnt how to tell these 2 birds apart, would you have wondered if these 2 similar looking birds with similar names have a special relationship? Well, yes, they do! But it’s somewhat like a “you go, I stay” kind of relationship. Remember when I said that Common Mynas were actually uncommon in Singapore? Well, they were common once, until the Javan Mynas came and took over, becoming the ‘common’ mynas we see in Singapore today. How did the Javan Mynas do that? They have found ways to adapt to the urban landscape of Singapore where they can build their nests anywhere (Meng, 2011) and feed on not just insects and fruits but also, our leftover food (Yap, 2002).

Such braveness in “hunting” for food and resourcefulness in ways of survival have led Javan Myna to become one of the, if not the most common bird in Singapore. Singapore is indeed a competitive society and we all need the right attitude to survive, be it humans or animals!

Here’s a fun fact: the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) listed Common Myna to be the 3^rd most invasive species in the world (Yangchen, 2016) although the situation in Singapore is the exact opposite!

References

Meng, A. L. (2011, April 21). Lessons from two Mynas. Retrieved from Stir-fried Science: https://blog.science.edu.sg/2011/04/21/lessons-from-two-mynas/

Yangchen, L. (2016, April 22). The javan mynah: Today’s pest, tomorrow’s food? Retrieved from The Straits Times: https://www.straitstimes.com/singapore/environment/the-javan-mynah-todays-pest-tomorrows-food

Written by: Thang Hui Lin

 

Meat Lovers: Pitcher Plants

You’ve probably seen pitcher plants around. After all, they are a common sight in nurseries and at pasar malam markets. They are well known for being carnivorous, trapping small insects inside fluid-filled jugs where they unfortunately meet their sorry end. But what exactly are pitcher plants and why are they so different from normal plants?

The term “pitcher plant” generally refers to any carnivorous plant with pitchers that trap insects. This includes several families of organisms such as Nepenthaceae and Sarraceniaceae .

Image: https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/08/090804081545.htm

So, how do these plants catch their prey? Basically, insects make a beeline for the pitchers, attracted by their colour or the smell they emit. However, when they stand on the peristome, also known as the edge of the pitcher, they fall in, landing in a pool of enzyme-containing fluids where they are slowly broken down into simpler nutrients such as amino acids [2] [3].

Image: https://www.sciencesource.com/archive/-SS2521889.html

Pitcher fluid contains more than just insect-digesting enzymes. In fact, the components that make up the fluid of different types of pitcher plants vary. While generally acidic, the fluid in certain species are mostly made up of rainwater that collects in the pitcher, while those in other species contain more secretions from the plant itself. Pitchers also have an operculum, or lid. In some species, the operculum prevents rainwater from entering the pitcher diluting its fluids.

Image: https://www.bhg.com/gardening/flowers/perennials/growing-pitcher-plants/

Pitcher plants generally live in areas where the soil does not have enough nutrients for typical plants to thrive. Therefore, they rely on insects to obtain sufficient amounts of what they are unable to get from the ground. However, pitcher plants still photosynthesise to produce glucose. Insects are only a replacement for substances they would otherwise have absorbed from the soil.

It is interesting to note that many species of pitcher plants are not closely related to one another, suggesting convergent evolution – different organisms independently evolved to have this particular appearance and insect-trapping ability. For example, the Australian pitcher plant is more closely related to starfruit than to other species of pitchers [7]. It’s pretty amazing how all these different pitcher plants adapted to their situation in similar ways.

So the next time you see one of these protein-guzzling plants around, do remember that they’re simply doing what they can to live their life to the fullest, just like you and me.

References:

[1]: https://www.britannica.com/plant/pitcher-plant

[2]: https://www.sciencedaily.com/terms/pitcher_plant.htm

[3]: https://www.botany.one/2013/10/adapted-kill-pitcher-plant-traps-prey/

[4]: https://academic-oup-com.libproxy1.nus.edu.sg/aob/article/107/2/181/188441

[5]: http://www.bbc.com/earth/story/20150420-the-giant-plants-that-eat-meat

[6]: https://www.thenakedscientists.com/articles/questions/carnivorous-plants-can-photosynthesise-so-why-eat-flies

[7]: https://www.nature.com/news/how-plants-evolved-into-carnivores-1.21425