55 pages 1-hour read

The Beak of the Finch: A Story of Evolution in Our Time

Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 1994

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Part 2, Chapters 11-14Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Part 2: “New Beings on This Earth”

Chapter 11 Summary: “Invisible Coasts”

Invoking a metaphor of islands, Weiner examines the “invisible coasts,” the boundaries that exist between different species. Despite the title of his landmark work, Darwin largely ignored the question of how a species originates and what defines its borders. Darwin’s creationist detractors overstated the fixity of species as a way of refuting evolutionary theory. Evolutionists are currently examining these unresolved questions: “What holds the new species apart? What are the barriers, and what makes the barriers harder or easier to cross?” (159).


Studies indicate that species barriers are maintained by instinct and behavior. Evolution must select for behaviors that maintain these barriers; otherwise, the barriers would not persist through time. Peter Grant and a student confirmed this in an experiment observing the mating patterns of the ground finches on Daphne Major. In a thousand pairings, they observed only 26 instances of interspecies courting, all of which abruptly stopped before the ritual finished. Closer study indicated that the birds assessed mates based on their song and body type, and that females consistently preferred members of their own species and birds from their own island. Grant believes that the beak is one important factor in the finches’ recognition of their own kind and their selection of a mate.


Mating patterns and sexual tastes can change over time, evidenced by a handful of experiments performed on Drosophila (fruit fly) species and other insects. In one case, the flies’ mating habits evolved quickly in response to their immersion in darkness; in another, a researcher observed the division of a group into “sex races” within a single species. According to one researcher, Kaneshiro, sexual selection is “a powerful force in initiating the speciation process” (169), perhaps acting much more quickly than environmental change in encouraging a branch of the evolutionary tree to fork.


Beyond changes in mating rituals and physique, sexual preferences can evolve as well. Weiner meditates on the fact that small superficial details such as a beautiful facial feature (or the lack thereof) can have profound effects on the fate of future generations. Thus, diverging sexual tastes could be the first “widening wedge” that splits one gene pool into two. However, the beginnings of divergence due to sexual selection can also quickly dissolve. The Grants witnessed one such instance on Daphne’s neighboring island of Genovesa following the great drought. They recorded a pattern of divergent sexual tastes among cactus finches, a preference for either one mating song or another, that corresponded to small but consistent differences in the beaks of the different singers. Anticipating a larger divergence and possible speciation, the Grants watched the finches closely, but in the years following their initial observation, this pattern of divergence and selective preference within the single species disappeared. This anecdote closes the chapter, setting up a deeper exploration of the forces of fission and fusion to come.

Chapter 12 Summary: “Cosmic Partings”

Darwin believed that the process of evolution was so gradual that to see a species at conception would be impossible. Today, scientists are inching closer to witnessing the so-called point of divergence as it occurs. In one case, scientists unintentionally generated a new species of Drosophila in their own lab when they weren’t looking: A strain they held in captivity adapted so rapidly in isolation that, in a few years, it no longer produced fertile offspring with strains to which it had been closely related.


Critics of evolution (and Darwin himself) struggled to articulate how adaptation leads to evolution. Many insisted, echoing Paley, that nature’s most intricate and useful creations, like the human eye, could not possibly come from random variations. Modern thinkers such as British evolutionist Richard Dawkins responded with counterarguments that illustrate how a rudimentary cluster of cells—for example, one for sensing light and dark—might be gradually refined into a sophisticated visual apparatus. Scientists Craig Benkman and Anna Lindholm tested this argument in an experiment on the beaks of crossbill birds, whose overlapping upper and lower mandibles allow them to twist open pinecones and retrieve the seeds. Benkman and Lindholm trimmed the beaks of a set of crossbills to remove this overlap so that the birds could no longer open the cones. They watched as the birds’ beaks regenerated in a rough, short-term mimicry of how a variant beak with a slight overlap may have slowly evolved into the crossbill beak. As the overlap returned, the birds grew progressively better at opening cones, once again affirming that a variation of a few millimeters, preserved and amplified by natural selection, could result in the crossbill’s unique and powerful tool.


While mimicking evolution gives convincing support to the theory, observing actual evolution across generations offers proof. Dolph Schluter has initiated a long-term study of a set of fish species, sticklebacks, that live relatively isolated in freshwater lakes in Western Canada. Schluter observed that in each lake pairs of stickleback species live side by side in “mutual repulsion,” with one species feeding at the bottom of the lake and the other feeding up and down the water column but not at the bottom, suggesting that each caused “character displacement” in the other. Schluter intends to place the species into laboratory ponds, remove competition, and witness the resultant change across generations. Schluter expects to see the fish expand into each other’s niches but admits that it may take years to observe an evolutionary response. He says, “We’ve got our work cut out for us” (189), acknowledging the vast scope of his task. The chapter closes inconclusively, with the “point of divergence” still an unknown.

Chapter 13 Summary: “Fusion or Fission?”

During their sabbatical, the Grants notice new trends in the yearly seed census data, changes in the food supply, and other new ecological conditions caused by the drought and flood. They suspect the changes relate to the increased fitness of the hybrid finches. Peter Grant recalls an impactful paper on interspecies breeding that illustrated the ways that hybridization diversifies the gene pools of purebred lines. The paper asserts that a hybrid finch breeding with a purebred finch will create offspring closer in characteristics to the purebred line than its hybrid parent, but diverse genetic material will make its way into the gene pool of the extant species, enabling increased variation in future generations. In the face of drastic environmental change, hybrid individuals may hold greater potential to adapt and survive. Taken in full, Peter and Rosemary’s data indicates an oscillation between “hybrid superiority” and “hybrid inferiority” alongside changes in the landscape:



Whenever the adaptive landscape heaves and flings about, like a sea under heavy winds, the hybrids among Darwin’s finches will be favored. […] But when the landscape returns to the pattern it held before the storm, the birds will settle back to their old peaks, and the sharing of genes will slow again (198).


Following the Grants’ discoveries, the tree of life metaphor is less useful in describing the way the process works than perhaps a thicket or a net—a model known as reticulate evolution, in which branches diverge and come together again and again: “This [model] doesn’t bind lineages together forever; eventually they part ways or fuse. But it may be a general and hitherto neglected feature of the origin of species” (202). The author goes on to emphasize that neither evolutionary forces nor the conception of species are fixed; all are fluid. This passage echoes the concluding passage from Part 1, urging the reader to embrace more complex, dynamic images as truer encapsulations of life on earth.

Chapter 14 Summary: “New Beings”

Weiner ruminates on what the Grants’ work with the finches has revealed and what mysteries remain. He describes an 1879 painting called Science is Measurement by Henry Stacy Marks, depicting a befuddled Victorian gentleman standing with calipers before the skeleton of a stork. The painting appears in a historical science book alongside a quote emphasizing that unless something can be measured and quantified, it cannot be known—together, the painting and the quote implicitly critique ecology as unmeasurable and unscientific. The Grants keep a copy of this book in their lab, where they continue to sift through a massive collection of finch measurements, a testament to the progress of evolutionary science.


After they fed their data on annual seed supply into a computer, the Grants’ evolutionary formula accurately predicted the mean beak size in each species on Daphne Major for every year of their study, all within a fraction of a millimeter. The precision and consistency of the calculations confirm again that Darwin’s process is at work among the finches. The measurements of the finches’ variability suggest also that they are “new beings on this earth” (206), young species in the process of a swift evolution. Undergoing a period of hybrid superiority, “one in ten finches born […] on Daphne Major are hybrids” (206); the separate species have the potential to fuse, but forces of competition and selection are still at work pushing the species apart. This is an active, dynamic, not wholly predictable process.


Weiner concludes Part 2 with the Grants enjoying a more imaginative moment, discussing the origin of species as it relates to hybrid forms. They contemplate how such creatures might participate or themselves cause the formation of a new species. Sketching a hypothetical graph, they theorize that a new species could occur when there is exceptionally strong and relatively narrow selective pressure for a hybrid body; through that small window of opportunity, a new species might evolve. The Grants step back from any hard assertions here, acknowledging that this is a flight of fancy, currently unmeasurable. They resolve to turn back to their data, pushing the narrative forward with the mystery lingering.

Chapters 11-14 Analysis

The Grants chase the origin of species into new territory as Chapters 11-14 confront questions Darwin never directly answered. Each chapter adopts a different line of inquiry in response to the question. Chapter 11 explores what defines a species, seeking to understand how the fluctuating boundaries between species are maintained. Chapter 12 follows attempts to pinpoint the point of divergence of new species, as scientists try to bear witness in real time. In Chapter 13, the Grants synthesize their data to refine their models of divergence, moving from the simplified tree metaphor to something more like a thicket or net. Chapter 14 shows the Grants sifting through their extensive collection of data while hypothesizing about the potential of hybrids to form new species. Each chapter echoes and refines concepts from Part 1, further elucidating not just the Grants’ work but their entire field. At the end of the second part, Weiner locates the narrative at the edge of evolutionary science, taking the reader to the limit of what is currently known.


Weiner weaves motifs of isolation, coasts, and boundaries throughout Part 2. He uses the setting of Daphne Major and the Galápagos archipelago as a metaphor to emphasize that individual species are distinct, isolated entities, even as they evolve. Sexual selection and the hybridization observed by the Grants following the flood introduce a complementary metaphor of fluidity: Hybridization is a pattern that can erode boundaries, shift the “invisible coasts,” and blur sharp lines. Discussing the oscillation between hybrid success and hybrid struggle, Weiner notes that the Grants “have seen the adaptive landscape heave in slow motion like whitecaps in an invisible sea” (197). The references to water and fluidity help to show these complex evolutionary forces are as constant as the weather or as simple as rain, despite the diverse forms and systems they create. Closing Chapter 13, the model of reticulate evolution transforms Darwin’s sturdy branching tree into something “softer, messier, more tangled, and more alive,” like new growth after a heavy rain. Weiner quotes the philosopher Heraclitus: “All is flux […] everything flows” (202).


Part 2 also highlights the youth of Darwin’s finches relative to the history of life on Earth. As “new beings on this earth” (206), the finches display the force of evolution actively and quickly at work. Weiner encourages the reader to revise any stale definitions of life forms and species as stable or fixed. The finches are “not like Michelangelo’s Adam […] the first man, molded of clay […] created in an instant” (206). Weiner compares them instead to Michelangelo’s Prisoners, a series of sculptures in which partial human forms seem to emerge from uncarved marble, permanently unfinished. Weiner has revised other images this way over the course of the book: the emblem of a bird, rather than a fossil, closing Part 1, and the image of evolution as a net, or a bramble, rather than a tree. Such revisions encourage the reader to question their previous teachings and present alternative ways of understanding the world, offered by the study of evolution.

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