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Seeing what the naked eye can’t − 4 essential reads on how scientists bring the microscopic world into plain sight

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Seeing what the naked eye can’t − 4 essential reads on how scientists bring the microscopic world into plain sight

This microscopy image shows the retina of a mouse, laid flat and made fluorescent.
Kenyoung Kim, Wonkyu Ju and Mark Ellisman/National Center for Microscopy and Imaging Research, University of California, San Diego via Flickr, CC BY-NC

Vivian Lam, The Conversation

The microscope is an iconic symbol of the life sciences – and for good reason. From the discovery of the existence of cells to the structure of DNA, microscopy has been a quintessential tool of the field, unlocking new dimensions of the living world not only for scientists but also for the general public.

For the life sciences, where understanding the function of a living thing often requires interpreting its form, imaging is vital to confirming theories and revealing what is yet unknown.

This selection of stories from The Conversation’s archive presents a few ways in which microscopy has contributed to different forms of scientific knowledge, including techniques that take visualization beyond sight altogether.

1. Seeing as identifying

Over the past few centuries, the microscope has undergone a gradual but significant evolution. Each advance has allowed researchers to see increasingly smaller and more fragile structures and biomolecules at increasingly higher resolution – from cells, to the structures within cells, to the structures within the structures within cells, down to atoms.

But there is still a resolution gap between the smallest and largest structures of the cell. Biophysicist Jeremy Berg drew an analogy to Google Maps: Though scientists could see the city as a whole and individual houses, they couldn’t make out the neighborhoods.

“Seeing these neighborhood-level details is essential to being able to understand how individual components work together in the environment of a cell,” he writes.

Scientists are working to bridge that resolution gap. Improvements to the 2014 Nobel Prize-winning superresolution microscopy, for example, have enhanced the study of lengthy processes like cell division by capturing images across a range of size and time scales simultaneously, bringing clarity to details traditional microscopes tend to blur.

Cryo-ET image of SARS-CoV-2
Cryo-electron tomography shows what molecules look like in high resolution – in this case, the virus that causes COVID-19.
Nanographics, CC BY-SA

Another technique, cryo-electron microscopy, or cryo-EM, won a Nobel Prize in 2017 for bringing even more complex, dynamic molecules into view by flash-freezing them. This creates a protective glasslike shell around samples as they’re bombarded by a beam of electrons to create their photo op. Cryo-ET, a specialized type of cryo-EM, can construct 3D images of molecular structures within their natural environments.

These techniques not only generate images at or near atomic resolution but also preserve the natural shape of difficult-to-capture biomolecules of interest. Researchers were able to use cryo-EM, for instance, to capture the elusive structure of the protein on the surface of the shape-shifting hepatitis C virus, providing key information for a future vaccine.

Further enhancements to science’s visual acuity will reveal more of the fine details of the building blocks of life.

“I anticipate seeing new theories on how we understand cells, moving from disorganized bags of molecules to intricately organized and dynamic systems,” writes Berg.

2. Seeing as scoping

Microscopy images are often framed as snapshots – circumscribed parts of a whole that have been magnified to reveal their hidden features. But nothing in an organism works in isolation. After discerning individual components, scientists are tasked with charting how they interact with each other in the macrosystem of the body. Figuring this out requires not only identifying every component that makes up a particular cell, tissue and organ but also placing them in relation to each other – in other words, making a map.

Researchers have been charting the brain by stitching together multiple snapshots like a photo mosaic. They use different techniques to label a specific cell type and then image the whole brain at high resolution. Layer by layer, each run-through creates an increasingly detailed and more complete model. Neuroscientist Yongsoo Kim likens the process to a satellite image of the brain. Combining millions of these photos allows researchers to zoom into the weeds and zoom out to a bird’s-eye view.

Stiched high-resolution microscopy image of mouse brain.
Zooming in on this image of a mouse brain reveals rectangular lines where images were stitched together, with each colored dot representing a specific brain cell type.
Yongsoo Kim, CC BY-NC-ND

But building a map of a city, however detailed, is not the same as understanding its rhythm and atmosphere. Likewise, knowing where every cell is located relative to each other doesn’t necessarily tell researchers how they function or interact. Just as important as charting out the landscape of an organ is coming up with a working theory of how it all fits together and performs as a whole. Right now, Kim notes, analysis lags behind technical advances in data collection.

“Incredibly rich, high-resolution brain mapping presents a great opportunity for neuroscientists to deeply ponder what this new data says about how the brain works,” Kim writes. “Though there are still many unknowns about the brain, these new tools and techniques could help bring them to light.”

3. Seeing as recognizing

Every improvement in technology brings a parallel improvement in the data it collects, both in quality and in quantity. But that data is only useful insofar as researchers are able to analyze it – high granularity isn’t helpful if those details aren’t appreciable, and high output isn’t beneficial if it’s too overwhelming to organize.

Automated microscopes, for example, have made it possible to take time-lapse images of cells, resulting in massive amounts of data that require manual sifting. Neuroscientist Jeremy Linsley and his team encountered this dilemma in their own work on neurodegenerative disease. They’ve been relying on an army of interns to scour hundreds of thousands of images of neurons and tally each death – a slow and expensive process.

Microscopy images showing rat neurons before and after treatment with glutamate; the neurons are colored green when alive and yellow when dead
These images show living neurons colored green and dead neurons colored yellow.
Jeremy Linsley, CC BY-NC-ND

So they turned to artificial intelligence. Researchers can train an AI model to recognize specific patterns by feeding it many sample images, pointing out structures of interest and extrapolating the algorithm to new contexts. Linsley and his team developed a model to distinguish between living and dead neurons with greater speed and accuracy than people trained to do the same task.

They also opened the black box of the model to figure out how it was finding dead cells, revealing new signals of neuron death that researchers previously weren’t aware of because they weren’t obvious to the human eye.

“By taking out human guesswork, (AI models) increase the reproducibility and speed of research and can help researchers discover new phenomena in images that they would otherwise not have been able to easily recognize,” writes Linsley.

4. Seeing as appreciating

Even before they had the instruments to zoom in on samples, researchers had a tool in their arsenal to study the living world that they still use today: art.

Illustration of cells in a cork from Robert Hooke's Micrographia
This illustration from Robert Hooke’s ‘Micrographia’ shows the structure of cells in a cork.
Robert Hooke/National Library of Wales via Wikimedia Commons

Centuries ago, scientists and artists examined plants, animals and anatomy through illustration. Sketches of unfamiliar species in their natural environments aided in their classification, and drawings of the human body advanced study of its structure and function. With the help of the printing press, these artistic renderings – which later included the view under the lenses of early microscopes – popularized scientific knowledge about the natural world.

Though hand drawings have since given way to advanced imaging techniques and computer models, the legacy of communicating science through art continues. Scientific publications and BioArt competitions highlight laboratory images and videos to share the awe and wonder of studying the natural world with the general public. Using visualizations in classrooms and art museums can also promote science literacy by giving students a chance to look through the eye of the microscope as a scientist would.

Biologist and BioArt Awards judge Chris Curran believes that making visible the processes and concepts of science can grant a greater depth of understanding of the natural world necessary to being an informed citizen.

“That those images and videos are often beautiful is an added benefit,” she writes.

YouTube video
This video of cells migrating in a zebra fish embryo won first place in the 2022 Nikon Small World in Motion Competition.

And the abstract qualities of science can be made tangible in ways that don’t involve sight. Proteins, for instance, can be translated into music by mapping their physical properties into sound: amino acids turn into notes, while structural loops become tempos and motifs. Computational biologists Peng Zhang and Yuzong Chen enhanced the musicality of these mapping techniques by basing them on different music styles, such as that of Chopin. Consequently, a protein that prevents cancer formation, p53, sounds toccata-like, and the protein that binds to the hormone and neurotransmitter oxytocin flutters with recurring motifs.

Framing scientific images as art often requires no more than a change in perspective. And uncovering the poetry of science, many researchers would agree, can help reveal the artistry of life.The Conversation

Vivian Lam, Associate Health and Biomedicine Editor, The Conversation

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

The Conversation

Colors are objective, according to two philosophers − even though the blue you see doesn’t match what I see

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theconversation.com – Elay Shech, Professor of Philosophy, Auburn University – 2025-04-25 07:55:00

What appear to be blue and green spirals are actually the same color.
Akiyoshi Kitaoka

Elay Shech, Auburn University and Michael Watkins, Auburn University

Is your green my green? Probably not. What appears as pure green to me will likely look a bit yellowish or blueish to you. This is because visual systems vary from person to person. Moreover, an object’s color may appear differently against different backgrounds or under different lighting.

These facts might naturally lead you to think that colors are subjective. That, unlike features such as length and temperature, colors are not objective features. Either nothing has a true color, or colors are relative to observers and their viewing conditions.

But perceptual variation has misled you. We are philosophers who study colors, objectivity and science, and we argue in our book “The Metaphysics of Colors” that colors are as objective as length and temperature.

Perceptual variation

There is a surprising amount of variation in how people perceive the world. If you offer a group of people a spectrum of color chips ranging from chartreuse to purple and asked them to pick the unique green chip – the chip with no yellow or blue in it – their choices would vary considerably. Indeed, there wouldn’t be a single chip that most observers would agree is unique green.

Generally, an object’s background can result in dramatic changes in how you perceive its colors. If you place a gray object against a lighter background, it will appear darker than if you place it against a darker background. This variation in perception is perhaps most striking when viewing an object under different lighting, where a red apple could look green or blue.

Of course, that you experience something differently does not prove that what is experienced is not objective. Water that feels cold to one person may not feel cold to another. And although we do not know who is feeling the water “correctly,” or whether that question even makes sense, we can know the temperature of the water and presume that this temperature is independent of your experience.

Similarly, that you can change the appearance of something’s color is not the same as changing its color. You can make an apple look green or blue, but that is not evidence that the apple is not red.

Apple under a gradient of red to blue light
Under different lighting conditions, objects take on different colors.
Gyozo Vaczi/iStock via Getty Images Plus

For comparison, the Moon appears larger when it’s on the horizon than when it appears near its zenith. But the size of the Moon has not changed, only its appearance. Hence, that the appearance of an object’s color or size varies is, by itself, no reason to think that its color and size are not objective features of the object. In other words, the properties of an object are independent of how they appear to you.

That said, given that there is so much variation in how objects appear, how do you determine what color something actually is? Is there a way to determine the color of something despite the many different experiences you might have of it?

Matching colors

Perhaps determining the color of something is to determine whether it is red or blue. But we suggest a different approach. Notice that squares that appear to be the same shade of pink against different backgrounds look different against the same background.

Green, purple and orange squares with smaller squares in shades of pink placed at their centers and at the bottom of the image
The smaller squares may appear to be the same color, but if you compare them with the strip of squares at the bottom, they’re actually different shades.
Shobdohin/Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA

It’s easy to assume that to prove colors are objective would require knowing which observers, lighting conditions and backgrounds are the best, or “normal.” But determining the right observers and viewing conditions is not required for determining the very specific color of an object, regardless of its name. And it is not required to determine whether two objects have the same color.

To determine whether two objects have the same color, an observer would need to view the objects side by side against the same background and under various lighting conditions. If you painted part of a room and find that you don’t have enough paint, for instance, finding a match might be very tricky. A color match requires that no observer under any lighting condition will see a difference between the new paint and the old.

YouTube video
Is the dress yellow and white or black and blue?

That two people can determine whether two objects have the same color even if they don’t agree on exactly what that color is – just as a pool of water can have a particular temperature without feeling the same to me and you – seems like compelling evidence to us that colors are objective features of our world.

Colors, science and indispensability

Everyday interactions with colors – such as matching paint samples, determining whether your shirt and pants clash, and even your ability to interpret works of art – are hard to explain if colors are not objective features of objects. But if you turn to science and look at the many ways that researchers think about colors, it becomes harder still.

For example, in the field of color science, scientific laws are used to explain how objects and light affect perception and the colors of other objects. Such laws, for instance, predict what happens when you mix colored pigments, when you view contrasting colors simultaneously or successively, and when you look at colored objects in various lighting conditions.

The philosophers Hilary Putnam and Willard van Orman Quine made famous what is known as the indispensability argument. The basic idea is that if something is indispensable to science, then it must be real and objective – otherwise, science wouldn’t work as well as it does.

For example, you may wonder whether unobservable entities such as electrons and electromagnetic fields really exist. But, so the argument goes, the best scientific explanations assume the existence of such entities and so they must exist. Similarly, because mathematics is indispensable to contemporary science, some philosophers argue that this means mathematical objects are objective and exist independently of a person’s mind.

Blue damselfish, seeming iridescent against a black background
The color of an animal can exert evolutionary pressure.
Paul Starosta/Stone via Getty Images

Likewise, we suggest that color plays an indispensable role in evolutionary biology. For example, researchers have argued that aposematism – the use of colors to signal a warning for predators – also benefits an animal’s ability to gather resources. Here, an animal’s coloration works directly to expand its food-gathering niche insofar as it informs potential predators that the animal is poisonous or venomous.

In fact, animals can exploit the fact that the same color pattern can be perceived differently by different perceivers. For instance, some damselfish have ultraviolet face patterns that help them be recognized by other members of their species and communicate with potential mates while remaining largely hidden to predators unable to perceive ultraviolet colors.

In sum, our ability to determine whether objects are colored the same or differently and the indispensable roles they play in science suggest that colors are as real and objective as length and temperature.The Conversation

Elay Shech, Professor of Philosophy, Auburn University and Michael Watkins, Professor of Philosophy, Auburn University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

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Perfect brownies baked at high altitude are possible thanks to Colorado’s home economics pioneer Inga Allison

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theconversation.com – Tobi Jacobi, Professor of English, Colorado State University – 2025-04-22 07:47:00

Students work in the high-altitude baking laboratory.
Archives and Special Collections, Colorado State University

Tobi Jacobi, Colorado State University and Caitlin Clark, Colorado State University

Many bakers working at high altitudes have carefully followed a standard recipe only to reach into the oven to find a sunken cake, flat cookies or dry muffins.

Experienced mountain bakers know they need a few tricks to achieve the same results as their fellow artisans working at sea level.

These tricks are more than family lore, however. They originated in the early 20th century thanks to research on high-altitude baking done by Inga Allison, then a professor at Colorado State University. It was Allison’s scientific prowess and experimentation that brought us the possibility of perfect high-altitude brownies and other baked goods.

A recipe for brownies at high altitude.
Inga Allison’s high-altitude brownie recipe.
Archives and Special Collections, Colorado State University

We are two current academics at CSU whose work has been touched by Allison’s legacy.

One of us – Caitlin Clark – still relies on Allison’s lessons a century later in her work as a food scientist in Colorado. The other – Tobi Jacobi – is a scholar of women’s rhetoric and community writing, and an enthusiastic home baker in the Rocky Mountains, who learned about Allison while conducting archival research on women’s work and leadership at CSU.

That research developed into “Knowing Her,” an exhibition Jacobi developed with Suzanne Faris, a CSU sculpture professor. The exhibit highlights dozens of women across 100 years of women’s work and leadership at CSU and will be on display through mid-August 2025 in the CSU Fort Collins campus Morgan Library.

A pioneer in home economics

Inga Allison is one of the fascinating and accomplished women who is part of the exhibit.

Allison was born in 1876 in Illinois and attended the University of Chicago, where she completed the prestigious “science course” work that heavily influenced her career trajectory. Her studies and research also set the stage for her belief that women’s education was more than preparation for domestic life.

In 1908, Allison was hired as a faculty member in home economics at Colorado Agricultural College, which is now CSU. She joined a group of faculty who were beginning to study the effects of altitude on baking and crop growth. The department was located inside Guggenheim Hall, a building that was constructed for home economics education but lacked lab equipment or serious research materials.

A sepia-toned photograph of Inga Allison, a white woman in dark clothes with her hair pulled back.
Inga Allison was a professor of home economics at Colorado Agricultural College, where she developed recipes that worked in high altitudes.
Archives and Special Collections, Colorado State University

Allison took both the land grant mission of the university with its focus on teaching, research and extension and her particular charge to prepare women for the future seriously. She urged her students to move beyond simple conceptions of home economics as mere preparation for domestic life. She wanted them to engage with the physical, biological and social sciences to understand the larger context for home economics work.

Such thinking, according to CSU historian James E. Hansen, pushed women college students in the early 20th century to expand the reach of home economics to include “extension and welfare work, dietetics, institutional management, laboratory research work, child development and teaching.”

News articles from the early 1900s track Allison giving lectures like “The Economic Side of Natural Living” to the Colorado Health Club and talks on domestic science to ladies clubs and at schools across Colorado. One of her talks in 1910 focused on the art of dishwashing.

Allison became the home economics department chair in 1910 and eventually dean. In this leadership role, she urged then-CSU President Charles Lory to fund lab materials for the home economics department. It took 19 years for this dream to come to fruition.

In the meantime, Allison collaborated with Lory, who gave her access to lab equipment in the physics department. She pieced together equipment to conduct research on the relationship between cooking foods in water and atmospheric pressure, but systematic control of heat, temperature and pressure was difficult to achieve.

She sought other ways to conduct high-altitude experiments and traveled across Colorado where she worked with students to test baking recipes in varied conditions, including at 11,797 feet in a shelter house on Fall River Road near Estes Park.

Early 1900s car traveling in the Rocky Mountains.
Inga Allison tested her high-altitude baking recipes at 11,797 feet at the shelter house on Fall River Road, near Estes Park, Colorado.
Archives and Special Collections, Colorado State University

But Allison realized that recipes baked at 5,000 feet in Fort Collins and Denver simply didn’t work in higher altitudes. Little advancement in baking methods occurred until 1927, when the first altitude baking lab in the nation was constructed at CSU thanks to Allison’s research. The results were tangible — and tasty — as public dissemination of altitude-specific baking practices began.

A 1932 bulletin on baking at altitude offers hundreds of formulas for success at heights ranging from 4,000 feet to over 11,000 feet. Its author, Marjorie Peterson, a home economics staff person at the Colorado Experiment Station, credits Allison for her constructive suggestions and support in the development of the booklet.

Science of high-altitude baking

As a senior food scientist in a mountain state, one of us – Caitlin Clark – advises bakers on how to adjust their recipes to compensate for altitude. Thanks to Allison’s research, bakers at high altitude today can anticipate how the lower air pressure will affect their recipes and compensate by making small adjustments.

The first thing you have to understand before heading into the kitchen is that the higher the altitude, the lower the air pressure. This lower pressure has chemical and physical effects on baking.

Air pressure is a force that pushes back on all of the molecules in a system and prevents them from venturing off into the environment. Heat plays the opposite role – it adds energy and pushes molecules to escape.

When water is boiled, molecules escape by turning into steam. The less air pressure is pushing back, the less energy is required to make this happen. That’s why water boils at lower temperatures at higher altitudes – around 200 degrees Fahrenheit in Denver compared with 212 F at sea level.

So, when baking is done at high altitude, steam is produced at a lower temperature and earlier in the baking time. Carbon dioxide produced by leavening agents also expands more rapidly in the thinner air. This causes high-altitude baked goods to rise too early, before their structure has fully set, leading to collapsed cakes and flat muffins. Finally, the rapid evaporation of water leads to over-concentration of sugars and fats in the recipe, which can cause pastries to have a gummy, undesirable texture.

Allison learned that high-altitude bakers could adjust to their environment by reducing the amount of sugar or increasing liquids to prevent over-concentration, and using less of leavening agents like baking soda or baking powder to prevent dough from rising too quickly.

Allison was one of many groundbreaking women in the early 20th century who actively supported higher education for women and advanced research in science, politics, humanities and education in Colorado.

Others included Grace Espy-Patton, a professor of English and sociology at CSU from 1885 to 1896 who founded an early feminist journal and was the first woman to register to vote in Fort Collins. Miriam Palmer was an aphid specialist and master illustrator whose work crafting hyper-realistic wax apples in the early 1900s allowed farmers to confirm rediscovery of the lost Colorado Orange apple, a fruit that has been successfully propagated in recent years.

In 1945, Allison retired as both an emerita professor and emerita dean at CSU. She immediately stepped into the role of student and took classes in Russian and biochemistry.

In the fall of 1958, CSU opened a new dormitory for women that was named Allison Hall in her honor.

“I had supposed that such a thing happened only to the very rich or the very dead,” Allison told reporters at the dedication ceremony.

Read more of our stories about Colorado.The Conversation

Tobi Jacobi, Professor of English, Colorado State University and Caitlin Clark, Senior Food Scientist at the CSU Spur Food Innovation Center, Colorado State University

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Why don’t humans have hair all over their bodies? A biologist explains our lack of fur

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theconversation.com – Maria Chikina, Assistant Professor of Computational and Systems Biology, University of Pittsburgh – 2025-04-21 07:33:00

Some mammals are super hairy, some are not.
Ed Jones/AFP via Getty Images

Maria Chikina, University of Pittsburgh

Curious Kids is a series for children of all ages. If you have a question you’d like an expert to answer, send it to CuriousKidsUS@theconversation.com.


Why don’t humans have hair all over their bodies like other animals? – Murilo, age 5, Brazil


Have you ever wondered why you don’t have thick hair covering your whole body like a dog, cat or gorilla does?

Humans aren’t the only mammals with sparse hair. Elephants, rhinos and naked mole rats also have very little hair. It’s true for some marine mammals, such as whales and dolphins, too.

Scientists think the earliest mammals, which lived at the time of the dinosaurs, were quite hairy. But over hundreds of millions of years, a small handful of mammals, including humans, evolved to have less hair. What’s the advantage of not growing your own fur coat?

I’m a biologist who studies the genes that control hairiness in mammals. Why humans and a small number of other mammals are relatively hairless is an interesting question. It all comes down to whether certain genes are turned on or off.

Hair benefits

Hair and fur have many important jobs. They keep animals warm, protect their skin from the sun and injuries and help them blend into their surroundings.

They even assist animals in sensing their environment. Ever felt a tickle when something almost touches you? That’s your hair helping you detect things nearby.

Humans do have hair all over their bodies, but it is generally sparser and finer than that of our hairier relatives. A notable exception is the hair on our heads, which likely serves to protect the scalp from the sun. In human adults, the thicker hair that develops under the arms and between the legs likely reduces skin friction and aids in cooling by dispersing sweat.

So hair can be pretty beneficial. There must have been a strong evolutionary reason for people to lose so much of it.

Why humans lost their hair

The story begins about 7 million years ago, when humans and chimpanzees took different evolutionary paths. Although scientists can’t be sure why humans became less hairy, we have some strong theories that involve sweat.

Humans have far more sweat glands than chimps and other mammals do. Sweating keeps you cool. As sweat evaporates from your skin, heat energy is carried away from your body. This cooling system was likely crucial for early human ancestors, who lived in the hot African savanna.

Of course, there are plenty of mammals living in hot climates right now that are covered with fur. Early humans were able to hunt those kinds of animals by tiring them out over long chases in the heat – a strategy known as persistence hunting.

Humans didn’t need to be faster than the animals they hunted. They just needed to keep going until their prey got too hot and tired to flee. Being able to sweat a lot, without a thick coat of hair, made this endurance possible.

Genes that control hairiness

To better understand hairiness in mammals, my research team compared the genetic information of 62 different mammals, from humans to armadillos to dogs and squirrels. By lining up the DNA of all these different species, we were able to zero in on the genes linked to keeping or losing body hair.

Among the many discoveries we made, we learned humans still carry all the genes needed for a full coat of hair – they are just muted or switched off.

In the story of “Beauty and the Beast,” the Beast is covered in thick fur, which might seem like pure fantasy. But in real life some rare conditions can cause people to grow a lot of hair all over their bodies. This condition, called hypertrichosis, is very unusual and has been called “werewolf syndrome” because of how people who have it look.

A detailed painting of a man and a woman standing next to one another in historical looking clothes. The man's face is covered in hair, while the woman's is not.
Petrus Gonsalvus and his wife, Catherine, painted by Joris Hoefnagel, circa 1575.
National Gallery of Art

In the 1500s, a Spanish man named Petrus Gonsalvus was born with hypertrichosis. As a child he was sent in an iron cage like an animal to Henry II of France as a gift. It wasn’t long before the king realized Petrus was like any other person and could be educated. In time, he married a lady, forming the inspiration for the “Beauty and the Beast” story.

While you will probably never meet someone with this rare trait, it shows how genes can lead to unique and surprising changes in hair growth.


Hello, curious kids! Do you have a question you’d like an expert to answer? Ask an adult to send your question to CuriousKidsUS@theconversation.com. Please tell us your name, age and the city where you live.

And since curiosity has no age limit – adults, let us know what you’re wondering, too. We won’t be able to answer every question, but we will do our best.The Conversation

Maria Chikina, Assistant Professor of Computational and Systems Biology, University of Pittsburgh

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

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