Not At All Controversial
The musings, brain droppings, and research interests of Nick D. Waters
The musings, brain droppings, and research interests of Nick D. Waters
Old rocks for science. This rock is alive. Don't believe me? I have a meme for you. Now if only I could remember that meme.
October 16, 2026.
See how far down the rabbit hole this goes. I dare you.
How far does a desert snail travel from its natal site? The answer tells us how likely a fresh pocket of habitat is likely to be colonized, and allows us to gauge the frequency of gene flow among adjacent populations. The same question applies to all organisms. How do we go about answering this query? Metapopulation dynamics is the term for a study of this type. But there is more here than population study.
We must also understand microhabitat. The choices the snails make are crucial to understanding and conserve them, should the need or desire arise to design artificial habitat for exhibits or serious conservation measures. Our best model habitat can be as simple as a rockfall. Load heterogeneous scoops of rock into a front loader and dump them out onto a slope. Non-Newtonian fluid dynamics does the rest; the big rocks go to the front and everything smooshes up behind it, creating a heterogeneous matrix of air pockets, a moisture sponge of varying porosity. Simulate rain by spraying with a hose. Throw some seeds across it and voila. But how do we begin to understand the machinations of the snail as to where it rests, reproduces, and feeds within? These are details necessary to successfully conserve species in need of intervention and guesswork is not good enough. Tracking snails is not a trivial matter. Snails don't use credit cards... you can't track their movement by where they swipe to pay for travel, accomodations, and food.
Generations of snails may emerge from the same natal site for countless millenia, and I'm not saying that for dramatic effect. There are rockpiles in the Sonoran and Mojave deserts that have persisted for nearly a million years due to low rates of differential erosion, with sufficient uplift to keep them elevated. All it takes is a lazy sunday of casual bulldozing and it's all gone. The surface scraped clean, interstitial space filled. Hundreds of thousands of years of erosion and continuous decomposition reduced that thick layer of strata into a pile of smaller rock, and those rocks pressed downward on each other, shedding rubble that creates microhabitat, accumulating wind-blown dust, the funk of millenia, and ancient pack-rat middens and all it takes is one person in a skyscraper on the other side of the planet with a desire to make a flat place to wipe it out. The power humanity wields over nature is staggering.
To answer the germane question, we can catch some snails and glue some nifty RFID tags onto them. This knowledge can help us figure out how big a rockpile is needed as well, because not all habitable locations in the rockpile are necessarily inhabitated. Some fail due to predation, parasites, or disease. New habitat opens up due to a fresh rock fall or slide. Snails must move around, but can they travel only to immediately adjacent habitat? Can they frequent and hop-scotch areas that are apparently of poor habitat quality and start a new colony at range leaving little to no evidence of their passing? What is their rate of travel, and how many years might it take to travel for a new colony to be founded? Do they random walk by chance alone?
How frequently does a snail come to the surface? There is no law stating that every snail has to come to the surface. They nibble at the soil and decaying vegetation. Nutrients can be brought in by passive forces and dragged in by wood rats or insects. Ants are fond of dragging in food. Termites are fond of decaying vegetative matter. All of that activity constantly replenishes the subsurface soil environment where the snails dwell.
The first hurdle we encounter from an RFID tag is size. A snail can only pack so much around, and then in tight spaces, we don't want the poor guys to get blocked in by their tag, or hung up on debris. It needs to fit within the working dimensions of the shell.
Desert snails are tiny, they go underground and disappear never to be seen again. Who knows how deep they travel. No one has yet looked with an endoscope, but I don't think there is one good enough, ala War of the Worlds eyestalks, to peer and inspect every nook and cranny for meters deep. We can get an idea but we need powerful gear and strong arms to detect their passive signal and should we desire, recover them. At minimum, it requires a lot of wattage to penetrate rocky substrate. If we can measure the strength of the signal reflection, we can use that to determine how deep it emanated if we have calibrated the source material. Metal rich rock would be more dense and reduce signal strength, possibly beyond usefulness.
My limited research on the subject finds that 13.56 Mhz passive RFID tags can be detected upto 15m away, straightline distance. If active RFID tags were in use, then up to 100m detection range could be achieved. I don't see a 15mm-20mm snail lugging around an active tag. If a sensitive enough antenna were brought to the rocky surface and scanning could be done near the rocky crevices, some signal might be detected.
For some questions, It might be simpler to superglue a spool of thread, perhaps ultrafine filament onto the shell. Why not. Let's do that as a pilot study, as well as RFID and see what we find out. The bias presents itself immediately. We need large snails and snails that are surface dwellers. How adventive are the hatchlings, juveniles and subadults. There are going to be more of those, but it is more difficult to find them, and harder to equip them with something to locate them in the future. All we really can do is measure adult activity and make some assumptions and inferences about the other age groups.
What proportion of snails are never seen? How far do they travel under the surface among the interstices? Are there interstitial networks connecting remote habitat? So many questions, and we must be careful to state our objectives and consider the possibilities. I'm not sure there is a way to answer any of this with complete confidence, but we can approach a more enlightened state of knowledge. This fact is the only justification needed for the most humble of scientific enquiries.
Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle states that we can only really ever know one property of a phenomenon with certainty, as any form of interaction with the object of interest affects its other properties in a potentially chaotic manner. Bringing this back to our rock pile, some questions require disturbing habitat. In so doing we effect the movement of snails within and choices they make on where to travel and nest. That would invalidate the entire study. If you did, though, you would need an analog habitat. Destroying native habitat is just not an option, but destroying manmade is. Road cuts, fill, and overburden dumps are ideal.
I point out to others that desert snails regularly invade manmade habitat. This is politically dangerous, because talussnails are considered sensitive species in Arizona; rightfully so. Many are narrow endemics. A mining company that wants to extract commercially and economically important ore may have a snail in the way, and a multi-year environmental impact study to conduct. Native species are a problem, and that becomes a very touchy subject with national implications. The economic importance of minerals found in Arizona elevates these matters, and it's not just snails.
I personally do not wish to see the poor things loathed at, nor fellow biologists and ecologically tuned in folks thought poorly of. I also don't wish to see the people who work the mines suffer, nor deprive them of their livelihood. Some voices will carry the implication of "Won't somebody think of the snails" in their voices, but that backfires and besmirches the species plight by the "they are just bugs" mentality pervasive in human thinking. If I publish results of my work I also don't want to be seen as greenlighting the mining industry per se.
It is common knowledge that freshly extracted, unweathered ore is toxic to surface life. Only the uppermost surface rock layer will be suitable for conservation purposes, and only that is useful in potential manmade habitats. The demands of of industry and the necessity of wildlife survival must be met. The same was true of old growth forest ecology and the necessity for managed forestry practices.