"Simple" is often a compliment in the human world, used to describe low-fuss dinners or closet solutions. When scientists use "simple" to describe an animal, they mean something more like, "That sac of goo has no business acting clever." An especially simple creature—a sea slug—recently demonstrated that despite its humble resources, it can learn from experience and form new hunting strategies. Smaller goo sacs, beware.
Despite its squishy stature, the sea slug Pleurobranchaea californica is a killer. It roams the sea and swallows whatever appealing morsels are in its way. Being blind, it can't tell how tasty its prey looks—or doesn't.
It can't see, for example, the flashy coloration of the "Spanish shawl" nudibranch (Flabellina iodinea). If it could, it might guess that those bright pink and orange hues are a warning: Flabellina is not nice to eat. It steals stinging cells from its own prey (such as corals and anemones) and stores those stingers in its bristles.
Rhanor Gillette, a neuroscientist at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, observed that not only do Pleurobranchaea slugs spit out Spanish shawls, but they seem to remember and avoid the animals in the future. To study how well the predatory sea slugs learn their lesson after tasting Flabellina, he and graduate student Vanessa Noboa set up a meet-and-greet between the two species.
In tanks, the large, hungry sea slugs encountered the smaller nudibranchs. Researchers recorded how long it took for Pleurobranchaea to take a taste, then waited for the slugs to change their minds and turn away from their potential prey. (Here's a great video of a Pleurobranchaea attempting to Hoover up a Flabellina, then spitting the animal back out. While the big slug pivots away in disgust, the little one does its "Don't eat me" dance like nobody's watching, which is true.)
On the first day, this interaction happened five times. By the end, most of the Pleurobranchaea slugs were much slower to take a taste of the Spanish shawls, or were ignoring them altogether. Twenty-four hours later, the sea slugs were still reluctant to approach Flabellina. Even after 72 hours, they remembered what they'd learned. Gillette and Noboa report their results in the Journal of Experimental Biology.
Since the predatory slugs seem to sniff something in the water that makes them turn away, the researchers think the noxious Spanish shawls give off a distinctive warning odor.
Gillette says the sea slugs have a decent memory, considering their elementary nervous system. "In these experiments their memory is strong at 48 hours," he says, "and in unpublished work we've seen savings up to a week, so it's not bad." (Oddly, some slugs had to be removed from the experiment because they didn't mind the taste of the stinging Flabellina at all. They sucked it up just like any other food.)
Learning from an unpleasant taste experience, then using that memory to change one's hunting strategy, is "a real cognitive trait," Gillette says—in other words, a "goal-directed use of knowledge." The Pleurobranchaea slugs learned to avoid the smell of Flabellina, although they continued to eat a related, non-stinging species without hesitation.
Being able to change their feeding strategy is a good thing, since these slugs are generalists. Everything in the path of their oozing is a potential meal. "More specialized animals, say sea-slugs that may munch on a particular kind of sponge, may not need to employ such learning abilities," Gillette says. For a hunter like Pleurobranchaea, the decisions aren't so simple.
Noboa, V., & Gillette, R. (2013). Selective prey avoidance learning in the predatory sea-slug Pleurobranchaea californica Journal of Experimental Biology DOI: 10.1242/?jeb.079384
Image: Rhanor Gillette.
