By Jill Hahn / Special To The Tab
Here’s a story about a blacklegged tick, a white-footed mouse, an unpleasant
bacterium, and how reducing biodiversity in our own backyards can literally make us
sick.
Lyme disease, which now accounts for about 90
percent of the vector-borne disease (spread by an
animal carrier) in the U.S., is caused by the
bacterium Borrelia burgdorferi, transmitted by the
bite of an infected blacklegged tick, Ixodes
scapularis. A new-born tick does not carry the
bacterium. In order to acquire the bacterium, the
larval tick must take its blood meal from an infected
animal. And here’s where the I. scapularislarvae are
the kind of eaters you wish your children were: they
are not picky. They will feed on a wide variety of
mammalian, bird, or even reptile hosts. The larva
takes one blood meal from the host it happens to
encounter, and then molts into its next stage, called
a nymph.
Most people contract Lyme disease from the nymphal stage of the blacklegged tick,
partly because the nymph is small and hard to spot, partly because it is active in June
and July, when we’re likely to be out enjoying the woods.
What determines whether the nymphal tick that just bit you is likely to give you Lyme
disease? Dr. Richard Ostfeld, senior scientist at the Institute of Ecosystem Studies
(Millbrook, NY), conducted a series of elegant, if messy, experiments to find out. Since
a nymph can only acquire B. burgdorferi during its larval meal, Dr. Ostfeld’s first task
was to determine whether feeding on different animals resulted in differing proportions
of infected nymphs. To do this, he and his colleagues trapped individuals from every
potentially important bird and mammal species in his study site in Duchess County,
NY. This list included deer, robins and other songbirds, white-footed mice, chipmunks,
raccoons, possums, skunks, shrews, and squirrels. The animals (deer excepted) were
caged for 72 hours. Any tick larvae attached to them fell off into pans of water under
the cages. They were collected (a dirty job, because more than just ticks dropped into
those pans during the 72 hours) and tested for the presence of the Lyme disease
bacteria.
Dr. Ostfeld discovered that over 90 percent of the ticks that fed on white-footed mice
tested positive for B. burgdorferi. 40-55 percent of the ticks from shrews or chipmunks
tested positive, and the proportion of positive ticks collected from the other species
ranged from around 15 percent to less than 2 percent. So the host species a larval tick
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Photo courtesy of Frontiers in Ecology
and the Enivronment
White-footed mouse female
and pups
fed on dramatically affected whether the resulting nymph would be able to transmit
Lyme disease.
Since different species of animal have differing abilities to pass the Lyme disease
bacterium to the tick, this suggests that increased host biodiversity might lower the
prevalence of infected ticks. Dr. Ostfeld dubbed this hypothesis the Dilution Effect.
Ecologists know that, as you fragment forest into smaller and smaller pieces, the
number of animal species found in those forested "islands" declines. If the Dilution
Effect holds true, then the proportion of infected nymphal ticks should increase as
forest area goes down and biodiversity decreases. Dr. Ostfeld and his colleagues set
out to test that prediction.
They measured the density of nymphal ticks in forest fragments of different sizes
(ranging from less than two acres to almost 19 acres) by dragging drop cloths through
the forest and counting the number of nymphs collected. When Dr. Ostfeld tested the
ticks, he discovered that, as the Dilution Effect predicted, the proportion of ticks
infected with B. bergdorferi increased as the forested area decreased.
Why would this be? In the smaller forest fragments,
many potential host species disappeared. One
species, however, whose numbers conspicuously
explode as forest area decreases is the white-footed
mouse. White-footed mice, as Dr. Ostfeld had
already shown, are incredibly efficient at infecting
ticks with Lyme disease.
What does this mean for human health? Simply put,
biodiversity protects us from Lyme disease. If you go
hiking, say, in the White Mountains of New
Hampshire, and you get bitten by a blacklegged tick
nymph, you know that tick had a wide variety of
species from which it could have taken its larval
meal, and most of those wouldn’t be likely to infect it
with the Lyme disease bacterium. On the other
hand, if you’re out on a small plot of forested land in
your suburban hometown - especially if it’s smaller than about five acres - that nymph
that bit you most likely got its last meal from a white-footed mouse, and most likely did
contract the bacterium during that meal. So your chances of contracting Lyme disease
from a tick bite are much higher in the forest fragment near your house than in the
National Forest.
If those cute little white-footed mice are the problem, why not simply get rid of them?
Attempts to eradicate rodents to a level at which they can no longer transmit disease
are notoriously unsuccessful. Attempting to rid the woods of ticks is a similarly
Sisyphean task. There is another solution: let the Dilution Effect work for us by
changing the way we manage our landscape.
Dr. Ostfeld’s work has shown that the loss of biodiversity through the fragmentation of
our native forests has real health consequences. The Dilution Effect holds true for
Lyme disease and may play a role in other vector-borne diseases as well. It’s time to
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stop thinking of biodiversity as something that would be nice to preserve, but of no
practical value. The next time a local interest in your community wants to break up an
existing parcel of forest into smaller pieces for the sake of development, think about
the health consequences, and think twice.
Jill Hahn, a Newton Highlands resident, is a biologist, a writer, and a mom. All three
roles contribute to her passion about environmental issues. She can be reached at
jkkhahn@comcast.net.
This article is archived at www.greendecade.org/tabarchive.asp.
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