The nature of the wheel is just not in our nature

The nature of the wheel is just not in our nature

One method of getting around • Photo by Steve (CC BY 2.0)

Originally published 29 November 1993

Inch­worms inch. Whirligigs whirl. Sidewinders wind. Grasshop­pers hop.

It’s called get­ting around, and the ani­mal king­dom has devised a thou­sand ways to do it.

Fleas have springs in their legs that store up ener­gy and then release it explo­sive­ly with a trig­ger mechanism.

Hov­er­ing insects do a thing with their wings called “clap and fling.”

Bush­ba­bies leap from tree to tree with their bushy tails as balance.

Ani­mals swim, fly, creep, slith­er, glide, slide, and walk on water. The only mode of trans­port not wide­ly exploit­ed by nature is the wheel, at least not this side of Dr. Seuss.

Why not? There is no more effi­cient way for humans to trav­el than on a bike. Why did­n’t crea­tures evolve that were a cross between humans and bicy­cles? Bicy­clus sapiens.

The answer, as biol­o­gy teach­ers will tell you, has to do with the nature of the wheel.

A wheel (and its cousin the pro­peller) must turn freely and con­tin­u­ous­ly about its axle. But ani­mals need con­nec­tions between their parts for the trans­fer of nutri­ents, blood, and nerve impuls­es. Con­tin­u­ous rota­tion would not appear to be an option for evolution.

As it hap­pens, nature did invent the con­tin­u­ous­ly turn­ing wheel. Cer­tain bac­te­ria swim by spin­ning a sin­gle whip­like fla­gel­lum. This tiny appendage is attached to a base that fits into a cav­i­ty in the bac­teri­um’s body, and — aston­ish­ing­ly — it spins con­tin­u­ous­ly, dri­ven by a bio­chem­i­cal motor.

How is this pos­si­ble? Nutri­ents move between the bac­teri­um and its rotat­ing appendage by dif­fu­sion: that is, mol­e­cules drift across the gap.

This works only for bac­te­ria-sized crea­tures, says biol­o­gist Stephen Jay Gould. As an ani­mal’s parts gets big­ger, the ratio of sur­face area (length squared) to vol­ume (length cubed) decreas­es. Dif­fu­sion, which depends on sur­faces, can no longer sup­ply the larg­er vol­umes with nutri­ents. Phys­i­cal con­nec­tions — pipes and wires, if you will — are necessary.

Dr. Seuss’s fish with a “pin­wheel-like tail” is impossible.

But per­haps Gould is exces­sive­ly pes­simistic about nature’s lim­i­ta­tions. Con­tin­u­ous­ly-spin­ning elec­tric motors have com­mu­ta­tors to pass elec­tric­i­ty between rotor and hous­ing. Cer­tain chem­i­cal reac­tor ves­sels use some­thing called pos­i­tive-pres­sure mechan­i­cal seals to trans­mit lubri­cants and coolants from bear­ings to axle. It is dif­fi­cult to imag­ine how such things might be imple­ment­ed bio­log­i­cal­ly, but what human engi­neers can accom­plish is sure­ly pos­si­ble — in prin­ci­ple — for nature.

Anatomist Michael LaBar­bera has sug­gest­ed that the main rea­son evo­lu­tion eschews rota­tion is adap­tion to envi­ron­ment, rather than any intrin­sic bio­log­i­cal lim­i­ta­tion. Wheels and pro­pellers, says LaBar­bera, aren’t nec­es­sar­i­ly the best ways to get around.

For ani­mals in water and air, the flap­ping of a flex­i­ble foil (a fish’s tail or bird’s wing) is a more effi­cient propul­sive mech­a­nism than a rotary pro­peller. Pro­pellers on ships are about 60 per­cent effi­cient at con­vert­ing pow­er to thrust. A typ­i­cal air­craft pro­peller is about 80 per­cent effi­cient. Oscil­lat­ing flex­i­ble foils, accord­ing to LaBar­bera, can reach effi­cien­cies of 96 per­cent. Flap­ping is bet­ter than propellering.

Wheels also have lim­it­ed advan­tages for land organ­isms. A wheel­chair is an effi­cient mode of trans­port, but a six-inch-high curb can be an insur­mount­able obsta­cle. A bicy­cle is the most ener­gy-effi­cient of all ter­res­tri­al modes of human trans­port, but only on hard, smooth, unre­strict­ed ter­rain. There are few nat­ur­al envi­ron­ments where wheels are the best way to travel.

How­ev­er, if the Earth­’s sur­face were hard, flat and smooth, who knows what evo­lu­tion might have brought forth? LaBar­bera writes: “When­ev­er rotat­ing sys­tems are a fea­si­ble mode of trans­porta­tion, organ­isms have evolved to use them.”

Con­sid­er, for exam­ple, the small marine crus­tacean, Nan­nosquil­la decem­spinosa, that is found on sand beach­es of the Pacif­ic coast of Pana­ma. Adults of this species have short lat­er­al­ly-pro­ject­ing legs, and can­not walk when out of water. Cast up on the sand by waves, they move along by back­wards som­er­saults. For near­ly half of each som­er­sault cycle, their curled-up bod­ies roll along the hard, smooth sand.

Nan­nosquil­la decem­spinosa solves the prob­lem of con­tin­u­ous rota­tion by mak­ing its whole body a wheel and doing away with the axle. This lit­tle organ­ism demon­strates the won­drous cre­ativ­i­ty of nat­ur­al selection.

What Dr. Seuss imag­ined may not, after all, be impos­si­ble. Per­haps on a smooth-skinned plan­et near anoth­er star evo­lu­tion got off to a more rotary start and has per­fect­ed fish with pin­wheel-like tails.

Who knows? When E.T. arrives in its fly­ing saucer it may come free­wheel­ing down the ramp on spin­ning appendages.

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