Friday Squid Blogging: The Mystery of Humboldt Squid Beaks
They’re sharp:
There are many weird things about the giant Humboldt squid, but here’s one of the strangest: Its beak. The squid’s beak is one of the hardest organic substances in existence—such that the sharp point can slice through a fish or whale like a Ginsu knife. Yet the beak is attached to squid flesh that itself is the texture of jello. How precisely does a gelatinous animal safely wield such a razor-sharp weapon? Why doesn’t it just sort of, y’know, rip off? It’s as if you tried to carve a roast with a knife that doesn’t have a handle: It would cut into your fingers as much as the roast.
Paper here.
Andrew Garland • September 12, 2008 5:36 PM
“It would cut into your fingers as much as the roast” is a bit breathless.
My kitchen knife is razor sharp at one end, and my fingers have the consistency of stiff jello. How is it possible for me to handle that knife?
Sharpness has some drawbacks, as it makes the edge more fragile. I guess that the squid needs so sharp a beak just because its flesh is relatively weak. It needs to concentrate a limited force into that edge, and it accepts some edge-weakness as a result, from the perspective of squid evolution.