Consider the miracle of the wild columbine

Consider the miracle of the wild columbine

Wild columbine (Aquilegia canadensis) • Photo by Tom Raymo

Originally published 1 August 1983.

For almost 20 years I have ranged the woods and fields near my home in east­ern Mass­a­chu­setts. Most of the plants and ani­mals have become famil­iar friends. By pay­ing close atten­tion to the weath­er, I can pre­dict almost to a day when the first red-wing black­bird will reap­pear along the brook, or when the first cin­na­mon fern will unfurl its fid­dle­heads near the pond. There is a plea­sure in the famil­iar, in the recur­ring pat­terns of the seasons.

But there is also a spe­cial plea­sure in the unex­pect­ed. Con­sid­er the wild columbine. Not a par­tic­u­lar­ly rare wild­flower, I am told. But around here it is rare enough that in all my years of walk­ing, I have seen only one plant. I found it grow­ing on a rocky out­crop in the deep woods. It came, appar­ent­ly, from nowhere, and left with­out prog­e­ny. A mir­a­cle, it seems, of cre­ation from nothing.

No, not a mir­a­cle. Some­how a columbine seed had made its way to my rocky out­crop. That tiny pack­age con­tained the blue­print for the fin­ished plant. The orange, five-part nod­ding blos­soms. The trail­ing spurs. The gold­en sta­mens, show­er­ing like fire­works from the bells. They were all there, mar­velous­ly encap­su­lat­ed in a tiny seed that some­how made its way to my out­crop like a cos­mic space traveler.

The ori­gin of my columbine was a mys­tery which is enfold­ed with­in the greater mys­tery which is the ori­gin of life itself. That greater mys­tery has been poked and prod­ded by sci­ence, it has yield­ed secret after secret, and yet the mys­tery remains as deep as ever.

I can be cer­tain that my wild columbine grew from a seed, and that the ori­gin of the seed was anoth­er columbine plant in some­one else’s woods. But how did the first liv­ing thing come to be, the crea­ture with­out a parent?

The first living creatures

The first liv­ing crea­tures were sin­gle-celled organ­isms, per­haps sim­i­lar to the sim­plest bac­te­ria exist­ing today. Those prim­i­tive cells had the abil­i­ty to sur­vive over the short run by extract­ing ener­gy from their envi­ron­ment, and to sur­vive the long run by repro­duc­tion of their species. They were the first ten­ta­tive steps on life’s pre­car­i­ous journey.

The bac­teri­um and the blue whale, the ele­phant and the columbine, all share the same chem­istry under the skin. The mol­e­c­u­lar build­ing blocks of life are sur­pris­ing­ly lim­it­ed — car­bo­hy­drates, fats, pro­teins and nucle­ic acids — the sorts of things you find list­ed on the side of your break­fast food box. The orig­i­nal build­ing blocks for life were fab­ri­cat­ed from mate­ri­als avail­able in the ear­ly oceans and atmosphere.

A series of exper­i­ments in the 1950s, and repeat­ed and refined since, hints at how life hap­pened. Researchers intro­duced ammo­nia and methane with water into a flask and sub­ject­ed the mix­ture to a con­tin­u­ous elec­tri­cal dis­charge. When the spark was turned off, the walls of the flask were coat­ed with a scum of organ­ic com­pounds. In par­tic­u­lar, the amino acids, which are the sub­units of the pro­teins, were found in the flask.

The exper­i­ments were an attempt to recre­ate the con­di­tions that exist­ed on the ear­ly earth. The same chem­i­cal reac­tions that occurred in their flask can be pre­sumed to have hap­pened in the ear­ly environment.

Build­ing organ­ic mol­e­cules out of sim­ple gas­es and water requires ener­gy. In the exper­i­ments, the ener­gy source was an elec­tric spark. On the ear­ly earth the main sources of ener­gy were ultra­vi­o­let light from the sun and the crack­le of light­ning in the atmosphere.

As time passed, organ­ic mol­e­cules began to accu­mu­late in ancient seas. The waters of the earth became a chem­i­cal store­house, a rich broth of organ­ic ingre­di­ents. The stage was set for anoth­er lev­el of synthesis.

Next, the threads of life

The next step was a big one: the cre­ation of the very large mol­e­cules, the pro­teins and nucle­ic acids which are the threads of life. Pro­teins are chains of hun­dreds of amino acids, linked togeth­er in a par­tic­u­lar sequence. The nucle­ic acids are even more com­plex than the pro­teins. The nucle­ic acid DNA, which con­tains the genet­ic code of liv­ing organ­isms, is a chain of sug­ars, phos­phates, and organ­ic bases which can have more than a bil­lion links.

Water was nec­es­sary to col­lect and con­cen­trate the mol­e­c­u­lar sub­units of the pro­teins and nucle­ic acids. Cre­at­ing the chem­i­cal links that held the sub­units togeth­er in a chain required dehy­dra­tion. How these appar­ent­ly con­tra­dic­to­ry con­di­tions were real­ized simul­ta­ne­ous­ly is some­thing of a mystery.

It is a fur­ther big step between the appear­ance of the first pro­teins and nucle­ic acids and the first liv­ing cells. It is like the step between a stack of pipes and valves and an oper­at­ing petro­le­um refin­ery. At this point, sci­en­tists can do lit­tle more than guess at how the step was taken.

The assem­bly of pro­teins, nucle­ic acids, and final­ly liv­ing cells spon­ta­neous­ly from non­liv­ing mat­ter involved a sen­si­tive bal­ance of raw mate­ri­als, ener­gy, envi­ron­ment and time. Sci­en­tists may nev­er see life leap spon­ta­neous­ly from a lab­o­ra­to­ry flask. Even if they could some­how recre­ate the phys­i­cal con­di­tions that pre­vailed on the earth 3.8 bil­lion years ago, the one ingre­di­ent they can­not repro­duce is time.

The unan­tic­i­pat­ed wild columbine on the woody out­crop seemed a bit of a mir­a­cle. The ori­gin of life on earth seems still more mirac­u­lous. Research in mol­e­c­u­lar biol­o­gy has tak­en us a long way toward under­stand­ing how the “mir­a­cle” hap­pened. The mys­tery may yet yield to exper­i­ment and rea­son. “Noth­ing,” said the 19th cen­tu­ry physi­cist Michael Fara­day, “is too won­der­ful to be true.”

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