Tag: zeitgeist

  • German Cities for the Bees: Wanted — Young, Urban, Professional Beekeepers

    Germany is running out of bees. But urban beekeeping may just be the solution. The country’s aging beekeepers are looking to attract young city dwellers to the hobby.

    By Philip Bethge

    Emil Wiedenhöft’s bees know their way around the urban jungle. They buzz in, flying around the 71-year-old beekeeper’s head as they carry nectar and pollen to the hive. Then they swarm out again, heading back into the surrounding sea of buildings — a squadron of tiny, striped nectar collectors

    “They have to fly out of here at a steep angle to make it over the buildings,” says Wiedenhöft, as he casually wipes one of the bees from his shirt and points up into the air. The gray wall of his apartment building towers over the beekeepers’ patio. Two beehives stand in front of his apartment window.

    Wiedenhöft is a beekeeper in Berlin. “Beekeeping in the big city isn’t a problem at all,” says Wiedenhöft, who is retired. He has even managed to convince a few neighbors to take up the hobby. “I’ve trained six beekeepers in the eight years I’ve been living here,” he says, proudly. “A young beekeeper needs a role model.”

    Still, despite Wiedenhöft’s efforts, there are too few beekeepers in Germany and, as a result, not enough bees. Experts already fear that the shortfall could have serious consequences for fruit farmers, because the industrious pollen collectors are no longer adequately pollinating their plants. But beekeepers like Wiedenhöft are bucking the trend. The profession, which includes a disproportionately high percentage of older people, is trying to recruit new blood with courses and special offers — especially in cities.

    Hundreds of thousands of bees are constantly dashing through the backyards and courtyards of cities like Hamburg, Frankfurt and Munich. The densely populated Ruhr region is now home to more bees than the surrounding countryside. Bees are at home on Berlin’s balconies, rooftop terraces and hotel roofs. Bees are also popping up in larger numbers in cities around the world. In London, beehives can be seen on the roof of the Bank of England — honey from the London metropolitan area has even won the first prize at Britain’s National Honey Show. And in Manhattan, “Sheriff Beekeeper” David Graves sells his Rooftop Magic Honey at a premium price.

    Armies of Bees

    “Cities are ideally suited for bees,” says Jürgen Hans, chairman of Berlin’s beekeepers’ association. There are roughly 500 beekeepers in the German capital alone. Hamburg is home to at least 50 million bees from more than 2,100 bee colonies.

    While many city dwellers are likely to gasp at such numbers, the armies of bees are hopeful signs for beekeepers. “The animals develop marvelously in the city, because it’s warmer there than in the countryside,” says Hans, adding that cities offer “a large and constant selection of flowers for bees searching for nectar.” Hans, a beekeeper himself, waxes lyrical about the chestnut, black locust and maple trees lining the streets, and the sweet pea, briar roses and knotgrass on playgrounds.

    Hamburg’s trendy Ottensen neighborhood is the ideal place for lively city bees. On this early summer day, for example, beekeeper Georg Petrausch is checking his hives on the roof of the “Motte,” a neighborhood cultural center. “Nice flying weather today,” says the 45-year-old, as he gazes across streets and alleyways flooded with sunlight, the sound of traffic drifting up from the street below. It is a trendy quarter, with Moroccan restaurants across the street and numerous bars where hip urbanites hang out.

    Petrausch lights a bundle of hemp straw in a pipe-like device. The beekeeper uses the smoke to calm the insects. Then he carefully removes a bee-covered honeycomb from the hive and opens a few of the hexagonal cells. Petrausch has lovingly dubbed the glistening honey flowing from the cells Ottenser Wildblüte (Ottensen Wildflower).

    Bees and Bratwurst

    He harvests between 150 and 200 kilos of the sweet stuff a year, often with the help of neighborhood children. A teacher, Petrausch has also founded a beekeeping program for kids. Once a week, young bee enthusiasts meet in the garden of a school nearby where the students handle the honeycombs without protective clothing while bees buzz around their heads.

    “I’m not afraid at all anymore,” says 12-year-old Iris, “and the honey we make here also tastes better than honey from the store.”

    As enthusiastic as members of the trade are about these young, budding beekeepers, they haven’t prevented the nationwide number from continuing its decline. Today there are only 82,000 beekeepers in Germany, and they manage about 700,000 bee colonies. Experts say this is far too little, and that Germany needs at least a million bee colonies. “The honeybee pollinates 80 percent of our flowering plants,” says Jürgen Tautz of the “Beegroup” at the University of Würzburg in southern Germany. “The loss of bees is a threat to diversity.” Declining bee populations can mean a drop in the numbers and quality of apples, cherries, berries and agricultural crops. Many wild plants also do not reproduce as efficiently without the industrious insects.

    To make matters worse, bees are getting more sensitive. Like domestic pigs, they are now overbred, says Tautz, which makes them more susceptible to disease and environmental toxins. Only recently, clothianidine (sold under the commercial name Poncho), a pesticide used to treat seeds, was blamed for the deaths of large numbers of bees in southwestern Germany. The use of monocultures in agriculture is also detrimental to the insects. According to Tautz, “if bees can only find pollen from rapeseed and sunflowers, it’s about as harmful to them as it is for people to eat nothing but bratwurst.”

    But the insects’ greatest enemy is a parasitic mite called Varroa destructor. It infests the hive, sucks bee “blood” and weakens the entire colony. In the end, the bees are no longer capable of surviving winter. In the winter of 2002, for example, about 30 percent of all bee colonies in Germany died with infestations of these killer mites believed to have been one of the main causes.

    Young Beekeepers Needed

    Only experienced beekeepers are capable of controlling mite infestation, which is one of the reasons efforts to train new beekeepers are so important to the industry. The beekeeping profession is in rapid decline, with only about a dozen apprentices throughout Germany today. This highlights the importance of hobby beekeepers — about 95 percent of all bee owners — recruiting young people.

    The latest trend is beekeeping on a trial basis. Experienced apiarists lease individual colonies to young beekeepers for a year and provide them with advice and support. At the end of this trial year, the young beekeepers can opt to continue or return the bees.

    “We had 11 new beekeepers in our club last year,” says “bee godfather” Peter Schömbs of Berlin’s Zehlendorf Beekeeping Club, “and 10 of them decided to stay.” The 65-year-old trained Bert Kleinlosen. Although Kleinlosen is 58 himself, the bearded novice is, oddly enough, considered a young beekeeper. Beekeeping clubs are firmly in the hands of the 60 and old generation. Anyone who can bring down the average age is more than welcome.

    In Berlin’s Schmargendorf neighborhood, experienced and novice beekeepers work side-by-side. Together they make small frames for the honeycombs, hunt down mites or prevent the bees from swarming. This happens when the beehive becomes too crowded and the queen escapes with part of the colony. Recapturing the swarm is an arduous task.

    When bees swarm, they congregate in large groups in trees or on lampposts, as they search for a new place to start a hive. The mere sight of such a large concentration of bees leads many a city dweller to question the wisdom of urban beekeeping. What happens if the poisonous insects decide to sting, after all? Bee stings can be dangerous, even life-threatening to people who are allergic.

    ‘Don’t Try This Yourself’

    “When people and bees begin living in closer quarters, the incidence of allergies automatically rises,” says Munich allergist Bernhard Przybilla. Wolfgang Sieger, an internist from the Bavarian town of Wörth an der Donau, warns “every beekeeper should find out if there are people who are allergic to bees living nearby.” But, Sieger adds, the problem isn’t as dire as some might believe, because only about one in every 100 people is allergic to bees. Compared to wasps, says Sieger, bees are “a very peaceful species.”

    Beekeepers feel the same way. For decades, they have been trying to breed gentleness into these industrious insects. Apis mellifera carnica, or Carniolan bees, are the result of this ongoing breeding effort. “It’s the ideal city bee,” says Benedikt Polaczek, a bee researcher at the Free University of Berlin, “it’ll only sting if I try to turn it into a postage stamp.”

    Polaczek, who has been keeping bees for 40 years, teaches university courses for beekeepers and regularly hosts groups of schoolchildren and even kindergarten classes. Recently, the 51-year-old bee expert was showing the youngsters how to extract honey. Using a tool called a frame lifter, he opened the cells of a honeycomb and then placed it into a honey extractor. The device uses centrifugal force to extract the sweet, amber-colored liquid from the wax.

    “City honey has an outstanding aroma,” said the beekeeper, and gave his young visitors a taste. “And besides, it’s very clean, because they don’t spray pesticides as much in the city.” Then the researcher showed the children his hives. Using his hand, he carefully brushed several dozen worker bees from a honeycomb. The agitated animals crawled around on his fingers.

    “Look, the bees are completely peaceful,” says Polaczek. But before his guests left, he gave them a bit of advice: “Just don’t try this yourself.”

    Translated from the German by Christopher Sultan

    –> read original story at SPIEGEL Online International

  • The Taxidermy World Championships: Finding Life in Dead Animals

    Last week saw the World Taxidermy Championships take place in Salzburg, Austria — the first time the event has ever been staged in Europe. It offered an unusual glimpse of a world as unsettling as it is fascinating — one where the greatest joy comes from pulling the pelt off an alpine marmot or a white-tailed deer.

    The magic lies in the squinting eyes of the fox; she turns her head slightly away from the younger animal next to her, irritated and yet full of affection.

    Like a queen she tolerates being humbled by the others. Her muzzle is still closed, and it looks like she could yawn at any moment. But this is where Dirk Opalka’s devotion ends. “I had to do them over,” Opalka, 40, says, referring to the yellow eyes of the fox, “they were seated wrong — and then the clay in the eyelids slid too.”

    Opalka is an animal taxidermist. His mission could almost be called religious: He is seeking life in death. “The animal must look very much alive, that’s the secret,” says the man from Fuhlendorf, near Rostock, the German Baltic sea port. His great act of creation took eight weeks — and it paid off. Opalka has won a world championship of a particularly bizarre kind.

    The World Taxidermy Championships came to an end on Sunday in Salzburg, Austria. One-hundred-forty participants from 25 countries had flooded into Salzburg, the city of Mozart, to find out who could best preserve the nostril of a stag, most perfectly model the lips of a hyena, or color the anal opening of a common pipistrelle (a small bat) the rosiest shade possible. Over 500 dead animals transformed a Salzburg exhibition center into the deck of a Noah’s Ark of absurdities — full of lifeless passengers.

    (—> read original article at SPIEGEL ONLINE International)

    Animal cadavers are the objects of this eccentric craft; freezers, scalpels and de-greasing liquid the tools. And the craft unifies this unsettling passion with a nearly devout obsession for preserving the beauty of nature beyond death.

    “Taxidermy is not just a craft, it’s an art,” says Larry Blomquist, the American doyen of taxidermists and organizer of the competition, which has taken place in Europe for the first time. “I am thrilled with the quality we get to see here.”

    Practiced as far back as ancient Egypt, the art of taxidermy gained popularity in the 19th century when it became a way to preserve the trophies of colonial hunting societies. Today taxidermy — the preparing, stuffing and mounting of skin — is a multi-million-dollar business, especially in the United States, where it is estimated that 50,000 taxidermists preserve hunting trophies and other animals for American living rooms.

    Germany’s national association brings together around 260 biological taxidermists. There are professionals like former world champion Berend Koch, who has created a menagerie at the Technical University in Darmstadt that is highly esteemed in the field. But above all there are the self-employed, who fervently bathe bagged does in polyethylene glycol or give deceased ducks new dark brown eyes, diameter 9 millimeters (0.35 inches), from the German company KL-Glasaugen (KL-Glass Eyes).

    Measured against the World’s Best

    They have all come to Salzburg, to this high-performance show of animal preservation, in order to measure themselves against the best in the world. The contest is carried out by people in outdoor clothes, whose greatest joy is pulling the pelt of an alpine marmot or a white-tailed deer over its head.

    Rewind to two weeks earlier, and Dirk Grundler is preparing for the Salzburg event at his taxidermy workshop in the eastern German city of Magdeburg. His workshop has a low ceiling, and the carpeted floor is littered with hair and spare bits of foam. Paint brushes, forceps, resins, dyes, hairsprays and varnishes complete the chaos. It’s a whimsical zoo: magpies with fluttering wings, frozen in motion, dance on the floor; on the ceiling flies a huge raven. Alongside it are a bearded tit, a hoopoe and a large, black-billed Capercaillie.

    “That one comes from Lake Baikal (in Russia),” says Grundler, 43. With a full beard, gray vest and sturdy build, he doesn’t look like a man who deals in fine motor skills. But his daily bread does indeed consist of detail work. “I only preserve birds,” says Grundler. He operates according to the motto: emptied and feathered. He skins the birds, cuts bodies out of polyurethane foam and sprays the legs with formalin (“so they don’t shrivel,” he explains). Then he molds the skin over the artificial body. As a final step, he applies a substance to protect the bird from insects. Any “naked areas of skin” are colored in with an airbrush.

    The expertise of a taxidermist is vast. That’s the only way the work can succeed, says Grundler. He knows bird anatomy like the back of his hand. Neck length? “Female peregrine falcon 5.5 centimeters, mallard duck 19, ringed teal nine,” he says, ticking off data.

    “It calls for the greatest possible perfection,” explains Grundler, who is self-taught in the profession. “You have to know: How does the bird look in nature? How would it move? For example, if a pheasant looks to the side, it gets a very certain kind of swing in its neck.”

    The birds for Salzburg are already sitting ready in two boxes. Grundler wants to enter the most challenging division for the first time. Among his taxidermic preparations are a peregrine falcon, a kingfisher with iridescent blue plumage and an eagle owl, at least half a meter long. And where do all the animals come from? “All bred,” affirms the taxidermist, “anything else would be illegal.”

    This is one of the basic problems faced by taxidermists: Exotic species are both a challenge and a curse. It’s not difficult to find someone preserving a freshly shot lion for a big game hunter. Indeed, taxidermists argue that without hunting tourism, many species would be worse off than they already are. But what are people supposed to make of a person like Ron from Texas, who bags a leopard, stuffs it and then says: “I just love being able to take something that’s lifeless and give it life again, make it look like it was, you know, out there in the wild”?

    Still, whether it’s a tiger, a macaw or a Komodo dragon, taxidermy is all about high art. The work of Ken Walker, a Canadian who specializes in creating taxidermic representations of extinct species, is legendary. At the 2005 world championship, he wowed the crowds with an Irish Elk — a species that died out more than 7,500 years ago. To reconstruct the animal, Walker sewed together the skins of three stags.

    More Obssessive than a Model Train Enthusiast

    And then there’s Matthias Fahrni of Switzerland — a luminary in the art of fish taxidermy. “Since childhood” he has been obsessed with fish, says the taxidermist. “It is probably a genetic defect,” he jokes. Fahrni almost exclusively preserves scaled fish smaller than 15 centimeters. When it comes to his fastidiousness in terms of detail, he even outdoes model train builders.

    With miniature scalpels and instruments used for eye surgery, Fahrni removes the fish skin with its scales still intact. Then, like anatomist Gunther von Hagens, creator of the “Body Worlds” exhibits of human bodies, he pumps in plastic. For the head, he keeps the original. The last step is to color the fish: living animals provide the model. “A fish changes its color and the expression of the eyes in the first five minutes after death,” says Fahrni. For this reason, he has developed a technique of anesthetizing the animal he wants to observe.

    Fahrni has brought a bullhead and a perch to Salzburg and they rest, effectively lit, among the other mortal remains. A pair of men, their eyes hidden behind thick magnifying glasses, bend over the fish, whispering to one another. They are the jurors, designated experts who assign the points here.

    And the Winner Is …

    Further away, among the preserved deer, American Joe Meder shines a flashlight into the nostrils of a stag. The last fern of its life dangles from the animal’s mouth. Meanwhile, Peter Sunesen bends over a lilac-breasted roller. “This bird has problems with its anatomy,” deems the Danish judge. For this, points are deducted.

    Or take Dieter Schön of Munich’s Museum of Man and Nature. The 46-year-old taxidermist was responsible for preserving Bruno, the brown bear shot in Bavaria in 2006. Now his critical eye falls on an Eversmann’s hamster. “The whiskers are very good,” Schön says to Berend Koch. But he is skeptical: “The body is far too compacted — the animal looks half starved to death.”

    So what is taxidermy? Is it a morbid plundering of bodies or a celebration of the high art of life? It is the contrast between the loving devotion of the taxidermists and the macabre slaughterhouse atmosphere that simultaneously unsettles and fascinates.

    At the end of the event, the taxidermists stock up on plastic bear tongues and artificial lion’s teeth at the exposition stands. Dirk Grundler is satisfied: For his kingfisher, he receives 88 out of 100 possible points. The jury also agrees on 96 points for Opalka’s fox, the overall winner.

    “This entry captures the essence of the moment,” says Larry Blomquist, running his hand devoutly over the fox’s red fur. “You hardly ever get to see something like this in nature.”

    (—> read original article at SPIEGEL ONLINE International)

  • Rentiere in Flammen

    Wie gefährlich ist Weihnachten? Sehr! Von verletzten Seelen und Drogen im Lebkuchen ist zu berichten. Selbst Weihnachtsmann und Christkind bleiben nicht verschont.

    Von Philip Bethge

    Der Weihnachtsmann ist tot. Er verglühte bei dem Versuch, alle 378 Millionen Christen-Kinder der Erde binnen eines Tages zu beschenken.

    Ein Schlitten, gezogen von 214 200 Rentieren, beladen mit 321 300 Tonnen Geschenken sei notwendig für den Job, hat Rod Morgan vom US State Department errechnet. Mit 3000facher Schallgeschwindigkeit müsse das Gefährt durch die Luft rauschen zwecks termingerechter Lieferung. Der dabei auftretende Luftwiderstand erhitze die Rentiere, bis sie in Flammen aufgehen: “Das ganze Rentierteam wird in 4,26 tausendstel Sekunden vaporisiert” – Santa inklusive.

    “Wenn er jemals Weihnachtsgeschenke lieferte, ist Santa jetzt tot”, bilanziert Morgan, der im Internet über die Mission Impossible am Heiligen Abend aufklärt. Seine gar nicht frohe Botschaft: Weihnachten ist gefährlich. Sehr gefährlich – und nicht nur fürs Personal. Stapel medizinischer Literatur beweisen: Körper und Seele droht Ungemach, wenn wieder die Weisen aus dem Morgenland heraneilen.

    Schon die Vorbereitung auf das Fest birgt jede Chance auf Schadensmeldung. “Vorweihnachtliches Trauma: Die Briefkasten-Guillotine” lautet etwa der treffliche Titel einer Fallstudie britischer Mediziner, die berichten, wie sich eine 59-Jährige beim Einwerfen von Weihnachtskarten die Fingerkuppe am Briefkastenschlitz amputierte. Von Trauma muss auch die Rede sein bei der Arbeit texanischer Forscher mit dem Titel “Begegnung mit der Wirklichkeit: Die Reaktion von Kindern auf die Entdeckung der Santa-Claus-Legende”. Das überraschende Ergebnis: Nicht die Kinder reagierten verstört, als sie erfuhren, dass es den Weihnachtsmann nicht gibt. Traurig waren vielmehr die Eltern.

    Zum Menü nimmt das Desaster seinen Lauf. Truthähne, die in der Mikrowelle explodieren, gehören jenseits des Atlantiks längst zur Folklore. Nachdenklich stimmen sollte auch der Fall eines Mannes, der auf

    einem Gasbrenner zu Weihnachten Filet Mignon mit vier Tassen Brandy flambieren wollte. Der Hobbykoch hatte Glück: Einzig Augenbrauen und Nasenhaare nahmen ihm die Flammen.

    Andere Weihnachtssitten wiederum scheinen geradezu dafür erdacht, Schaden anzurichten. Von einem 23-jährigen Dänen wird berichtet, der mit einer starken Schwellung am Hals beim Arzt erschien. Erst die Intensiv-Anamnese ergab: Der Mann hatte an einem Weihnachtsessen teilgenommen. Nach jedem Gläschen verpassten sich die Teilnehmer Handkantenschläge in die Nackenregion.

    Zum Trost wird sich der Mann ein paar Lebkuchen genehmigt haben. Doch Eltern aufgepasst: Das feine Gebäck hat es in sich. Drogen wollen Prager Pharmakologen in der Leckerei ausgemacht haben. Weihnachtsgewürze wie Muskat, Zimt, Gewürznelken oder Anis enthielten Vorstufen des Suchtstoffes Amphetamin, berichten die Forscher. Der findet sich auch in Designerdrogen wie Speed.

    Oh, du fröhliche Bescherung! Was die lieben Kleinen nicht alles schlucken können. Ganze Christbaumkugeln fanden sich schon in den Mägen der Racker. Überhaupt der Christbaum: Nicht nur geht er allerorten in Flammen auf. Seine Wirkung entfaltet er an den absonderlichsten Orten. Kanadische Mediziner etwa berichten von einem jungen Patienten, dessen Lunge sich über 18 Monate hinweg immer wieder entzündete. Erst eine Operation brachte Klarheit. Ein drei Zentimeter langer Fremdkörper fand sich im Lungengewebe: “Er glich dem Ende eines Tannenzweigs.”

    “Dies ist der erste publizierte Fall eines eingeatmeten Weihnachtsbaums”, schrieben die Autoren – sie irrten. In Australien lebte ein Zweijähriger über ein Jahr lang mit einem Kunststoff-Christbaum im Rachen. Ärzte fanden das Gewächs in seinem Kehlkopf. Die Familie, dazu befragt, erinnerte sich an eine “Hustenepisode”.

    Die Spitzenplätze der weihnachtlichen Morbiditätshitliste indes nehmen jene ein, die Anspruch auf den berüchtigten “Darwin Award” hätten, jenen Preis, den erhält, wer “den Genpool verbessert, indem er sich aus selbigem entfernt”. Es sind zu betrauern:

    * Jener Möchtegern-Santa, der seine Hüfte per Seil mit seinem geparkten Auto verband, um sich mit Geschenken den Schornstein des Familiendomizils hinabzulassen. Leider versäumte der Mann, seine Frau zu informieren. Die stieg in das Auto und fuhr davon.

    * Der 35-jährige Sachbearbeiter aus Südwestfalen, der auf einer Betriebsfeier eine Weihnachtspolonaise durch ein Fenster auf ein anliegendes Flachdach führen wollte. Der Mann ententanzte durch das falsche Fenster. Fünf Meter weiter unten traf er auf Beton.

    * Ein 34-jähriger Taucher aus dem Hessischen, der bei dem Versuch, einen Weihnachtsbaum am Grund eines zugefrorenen Stausees aufzustellen, das Bewusstsein verlor und ertrank. Warum der Mann die Konifere am Seegrund verankern wollte, bleibt rätselhaft.

    Zum Lachen ist das alles natürlich gar nicht. All jenen, die tatsächlich an Weihnachten verzweifeln, sei daher zugerufen: “Fürchtet euch nicht, denn euch ist heute der Heiland geboren” (Lukas 2, 10-11). Und schon der hat unter dem Fest gelitten. Das jedenfalls legt eine Studie eines australischen Kinderarztpaares nahe. Marion und Tieh-Hee Koh analysierten 20 mittelalterliche Gemälde von Jesu Geburt aus der National Gallery in London. Auf elf Bildern war der neugeborene Jesus nackt, auf sieben beunruhigend leicht bekleidet.

    “Die Temperatur in Bethlehem zur Zeit von Jesu Geburt wird auf etwa sieben Grad geschätzt.” Den Kohs zufolge erlaubt dies nur einen Schluss: “Jesus litt an Unterkühlung.”

  • Stem Cell Flambé: Test-Tube T-Bones on the Horizon Say Researchers

    A world which is free of caged chickens, slaughterhouses and avian flu is possible, researchers claim. All that’s needed is labaratory-made meat. While test-tube T-bones are still the domain of futurists, scientists have already taken the first important steps.

    The frog steaks were sautéed in a garlic and parsley sauce, then garnished with chives. When the feast was finally ready to eat, the artists sat down for dinner at the museum.

    Two years ago, at an exhibit in the French city of Nantes titled “L’Art Biotech,” Oron Catts, Ionat Zurr and Guy Ben-Ary dined on “tiny polymers stuffed with clawed frog cell à la Davis, flambéed with Calvados.” The artists, part of the Australian “Tissue Culture Art Project,” called their installation “Disembodied Cuisine.” They had mounted tissue cells from frogs onto small biopolymer substrates — about three centimeters in diameter — and watched as they grew into small “steaks.” The four frogs from which the tissue had been taken looked on from a nearby aquarium.

    The purpose of the project was to probe the boundaries between the living and the “semi-living,” while at the same time creating “victim-free meat” — meat that doesn’t require the slaughter of a single animal. The comical biotech installation was meant to “disturb,” says Catts. But real life could one day be just as disturbing. The vision of frog-friendly frog legs could soon become reality.

    And it’s not just frog meat that may soon be jumping from Petri dishes onto your plate. Laboratories, some hope, may someday replace slaughterhouses and even now, researchers are working feverishly to pull steaks and hamburger out of their pipettes. Their goal is the development of giant bioreactors where butcher shop wares are grown out of cell cultures, potentially forever relegating mass-production chicken farms, veal calf production and pigsties to agriculture museums. One day, say some scientists, meat incubators could become standard kitchen equipment, allowing consumers to grow their own liver pâté and meat balls, turkey sausage and smoked salami.

    “Animal products without animals”

    “The technology already exists for making a sort of pressed chicken in the laboratory,” says agriculture economist Jason Matheny of the University of Maryland. Researchers in the Netherlands are even studying ways to take the next step — from laboratory meat to industrial production. The Dutch Ministry of Economic Affairs has earmarked €2 million for a four-year research project at universities in Eindhoven, Utrecht and Amsterdam. The project is being co-sponsored by the meat-processing industry, which has kicked in another €2.3 million.

    “We’re trying to develop animal production without animals,” says cell researcher Henk Haagsman, director of the research group in Utrecht. At this point, he says, researchers still haven’t figured out whether laboratory meat can be produced inexpensively enough to compete with traditional meat. “But from a scientific perspective,” says Haagsman, “the sky is the limit when it comes to meat production in the laboratory.”

    The basic concept behind what is known as in vitro cultivated meat sounds surprisingly simple. Meat is mostly made up of bundled muscle cells, interspersed with fat and connective tissue cells. If it were possible to grow these cells in the laboratory and combine them at the right ratios, test-tube meat could become a reality. The patent that serves as the basis for the Dutch research project puts the issue succinctly: “The product has the structure and flavor of lean meat, but without requiring animals to suffer and without involving religious and ethical concerns or causing environment problems, all of which are the case in today’s meat production.”

    As promising as this may sound, biotech meat production still has many hurdles to overcome. Scientists are just now beginning to experiment with ways to reconstruct knuckles of veal and pig stomachs in the laboratory. Three years ago, US researcher Morris Benjaminson of New York’s Touro College was one of the first to experiment with the concept of growing filets in a Petri dish. After placing tiny muscle particles taken from goldfish into a nutrient solution, he observed how the muscle tissue grew by up to 14 percent within a week.

    Fetal calf serum gravy

    He then presented the thumb-sized results, in fresh and sautéed form, to a jury. “The smell and appearance corresponded to that of supermarket fish,” says Benjaminson. The only problem was that no one was interested in eating his fish nuggets, perhaps because his tiny goldfish filets matured in something called fetal calf serum.

    This nutrient medium, derived from cow fetuses, is prized in biology labs all over the world as extremely effective in growing cells. But it’s hardly suitable for use as a culture medium in food production, partly because it’s a potential source of the prions that cause Mad Cow Disease (BSE) and partly because it’s prohibitively expensive. Matheny estimates that a kilogram of laboratory meat would cost about half a million dollars if it were grown in calf serum.

    In order to make faux meat a reality, then, one of the first tasks is to develop an inexpensive ersatz nutrient solution from plants or mushrooms. Maitake mushrooms, for example, have already proved to be a possible alternative.

    One additional step, though, needs to be taken to achieve the dream of meat production entirely without animals. In his pioneering experiments, Benjaminson was still using real goldfish as the starting material for his cultures. But experts now believe they can create flank steak wholly without the flanks. The key? Cells called myoblasts, the non-differentiated precursors to all skeletal muscle cells. Tiny myoblasts are capable of dividing at a tremendous rate. If conditions are right, they ultimately combine and mature into the muscle fibers that characterize meat. “Only when myoblasts fuse does muscle tissue develop, leading to the meat structure we are familiar with,” explains cell researcher Haagsman, who is currently studying the process in pigs. He adds that certain growth factors, electromagnetic fields and a sort of cellular muscle-building are necessary to encourage the cells to fuse. Otherwise, he says, “you get nothing but cell paste.”

    Scientists are already concocting methods to conduct in vitro muscle development on an industrial scale. Matheny, for example, proposes using large support membranes made of edible collagen as a substrate for the cell strains. If the frames were stretched at regular intervals, Matheny theorizes, they would pull apart and essentially train the muscle fibers growing on them. As soon as the wafer-thin sheets of muscle material reached maturity, they could be harvested and processed into meat products.

    Tissue expert Vladimir Mironov of the Medical University of South Carolina has another elegant idea. His plan is to encourage myoblasts to grow on small spheres that expand and contract in respond to changes in temperature. The muscle tissue could then develop on the slowly pulsating spheres in rotating bioreactors filled with nutrient solution. Mironov’s plan also calls for harvesting the tissue balls and then processing them further, into poultry nuggets, for example. Mironov has already produced small amounts of turkey meat using a similar approach.

    Artificial blood vessels

    Nevertheless, the results of cellular bodybuilding are unlikely to live up to the standards of gourmet cooking. “We’re still a long way from juicy steaks,” Matheny admits. The problem, he says, is that not all cells can be supplied with nutrient solution in a filet-shaped tissue base. The laboratory muscle tissue would have to be permeated with blood vessels, so that muscle cells as well as fatty and connective tissue could adhere to these vessels. These types of tissue cultures have already been developed in medical research. Scientists at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), for example, recently grew skeletal muscle tissue that develops its own blood vessels in the laboratory. When they were transplanted into the muscles of mice, a few of the blood vessels grown in the laboratory actually adhered to blood vessels in the mouse body, and then supplied the implanted tissue with nutrients.

    It’s a technology that may one day be used to repair the heart muscles of heart attack patients. But as a technology for creating artificial sirloins and chicken nuggets, it is probably not suitable, says Haagsman. “This kind of approach can only work in medicine,” he says. “It’s far too expensive and therefore virtually unusable in large-scale meat production.”

    All of which means that the world may have to wait a few more decades before the perfect flank steak emerges from a counter-top kitchen incubator. Nevertheless, the disciples of the Petri dish are firmly convinced that the technology will establish itself sooner or later.

    “The benefits for animal protection, the environment and our health are obvious,” says Matheny. He envisions an age free of large-scale animal farming with a concurrent elimination of disease risk and animal waste problems. “Meat grown in cultures doesn’t need pastures or stables, doesn’t need drugs and doesn’t contract BSE or avian flu,” he says. Matheny believes that astronauts and soldiers could be the first target group for laboratory meatballs. He even has plans to tweak the ingredients in the future: “We could make meat healthier, for example, by replacing saturated with unsaturated fatty acids.”

    Test-tube sausage is also likely to be popular among many vegetarians, especially as the culinary quality of laboratory meat is presumably similar to that of tofu cubes. Despite researcher Mironov’s claim that “the taste of meat depends on the fat; we can simply add fat cells to create taste,” the culinary delights of laboratory meat are not exactly earth-shattering at this point. The “ultimate nouvelle cuisine” created by the “Tissue Culture Art Project” artists in Nantes ultimately proved to be a flop.

    Bio-researcher Catts reported that the frog steak was gelatinous, and the substrate had the consistency of material.

    And the taste? “The sauce was good.”

    Translated from the German by Christopher Sultan

    –> read original story at SPIEGEL Online International