Dispatches
CWD Puts Campus Experts On Call
As chronic wasting disease ravages southwestern Wisconsin's deer population, UW-Madison has become a nerve center in the quest to stop the epidemic in its tracks.
CWD was discovered in Wisconsin's whitetail deer herd in March, igniting fear and concern about next steps. The neurological disease, similar to mad cow disease, destroys the brain tissue of infected deer and elk, causing emaciation and, eventually, death. The disease is highly contagious, transferring easily among deer through proteins known as prions. The potentially devastating effects of the disease have had state officials searching for answers.
At UW-Madison, Professor Judd Aiken has studied CWD and other prion-related diseases for the past decade. He and colleagues in the UW Department of Animal Health and Biomedical Sciences have shifted their work to focus on CWD. After the state began its controversial plan to kill deer in infected regions, UW experts stepped in to help test deer and offer assistance.
The UW's Veterinary Diagnostic Laboratory is testing about 25 to 30 percent of the deer from targeted areas, Aiken says. "We're also working closely with a number of campus experts in the areas of infectious disease and wildlife biology, as well as local corporations, to get to the bottom of this," he adds.
CWD was discovered in Wisconsin's whitetail deer herd in March, igniting fear and concern about next steps. The neurological disease, similar to mad cow disease, destroys the brain tissue of infected deer and elk, causing emaciation and, eventually, death. The disease is highly contagious, transferring easily among deer through proteins known as prions. The potentially devastating effects of the disease have had state officials searching for answers.
At UW-Madison, Professor Judd Aiken has studied CWD and other prion-related diseases for the past decade. He and colleagues in the UW Department of Animal Health and Biomedical Sciences have shifted their work to focus on CWD. After the state began its controversial plan to kill deer in infected regions, UW experts stepped in to help test deer and offer assistance.
The UW's Veterinary Diagnostic Laboratory is testing about 25 to 30 percent of the deer from targeted areas, Aiken says. "We're also working closely with a number of campus experts in the areas of infectious disease and wildlife biology, as well as local corporations, to get to the bottom of this," he adds.
In Aiken's lab, researchers are scrambling to understand the breakout - whether it's related to past CWD epidemics west of the Mississippi River, why it has arisen here, and how it spreads. Aiken supports the state's decision to depopulate, saying that while there isn't yet a good option for controlling the disease, "leaving it alone is the worst of the bunch."
"If you do nothing, most animals will catch the disease," he says. "If you wait a few years, the infected group will multiply exponentially." Experts estimate that by fall, up to 25,000 Wisconsin whitetails will have contracted the disease. Aiken says, "If I were Illinois, I'd be getting worried."
Aiken expects the state will develop a good understanding of the scope and presence of CWD within a year. Among the concerns is whether CWD poses any threat to humans who eat venison. While Aiken says there's little concern that humans can get prion disease from infected deer, he doesn't recommend eating venison from a deer killed in the endemic area. "There are still a lot of unknowns," he says.
Wisconsin is receiving $3.5 million in federal aid to assist the state's disease management program. Of that, about $2 million will go to support staff and equipment at the UW's diagnostic lab.
—Christine Lampe '92
"If you do nothing, most animals will catch the disease," he says. "If you wait a few years, the infected group will multiply exponentially." Experts estimate that by fall, up to 25,000 Wisconsin whitetails will have contracted the disease. Aiken says, "If I were Illinois, I'd be getting worried."
Aiken expects the state will develop a good understanding of the scope and presence of CWD within a year. Among the concerns is whether CWD poses any threat to humans who eat venison. While Aiken says there's little concern that humans can get prion disease from infected deer, he doesn't recommend eating venison from a deer killed in the endemic area. "There are still a lot of unknowns," he says.
Wisconsin is receiving $3.5 million in federal aid to assist the state's disease management program. Of that, about $2 million will go to support staff and equipment at the UW's diagnostic lab.
—Christine Lampe '92
Deja Phew
For the second year in a row, visitors flocked to Birge Hall to witness one of nature's biggest and oddest flowers. The titan arum, a plant native to the rain forests of Indonesia, is known for the distinctive stench it releases when in full bloom. It's also known as the "corpse flower" - and that's by its fans.
Titan arums rarely bloom in cultivation. Only about twenty have opened in the United States, including one at UW-Madison last June. When that plant blossomed in the UW's greenhouses, it created a community stir that drew thousands of people to campus. Botanists were shocked in late July to discover another one of the rare plants appeared ready to open.
"I couldn't believe it when I saw it," says Mohammad Fayyaz MS'73, PhD'77, director of the botany greenhouses, who missed last year's bloom. "I talked to it. I said, 'You're a leaf. You're not going to be a flower. You're a leaf.' But it's a flower!"
Titan arums rarely bloom in cultivation. Only about twenty have opened in the United States, including one at UW-Madison last June. When that plant blossomed in the UW's greenhouses, it created a community stir that drew thousands of people to campus. Botanists were shocked in late July to discover another one of the rare plants appeared ready to open.
"I couldn't believe it when I saw it," says Mohammad Fayyaz MS'73, PhD'77, director of the botany greenhouses, who missed last year's bloom. "I talked to it. I said, 'You're a leaf. You're not going to be a flower. You're a leaf.' But it's a flower!"
Going Up?
It's possible that this winter, Laurel Clark '83, MD'87 will give new meaning to the phrase "higher education."
Clark is one of seven astronauts scheduled to crew the Space Shuttle Columbia on a sixteen-day research mission assigned to perform experiments in biology, physics, and chemistry.
Unlike recent shuttle missions to the International Space Station, this flight is about pure science. With more than eighty on-board experiments to conduct, the Columbia crew will have their hands full with around-the-clock operations.
"We haven't had a research-dedicated flight for quite some time," says Clark. "So we're doing as many experiments as we possibly can on this one. I specifically asked to work on astroculture experiments, because I knew they were sponsored by UW-Madison."
Clark is one of seven astronauts scheduled to crew the Space Shuttle Columbia on a sixteen-day research mission assigned to perform experiments in biology, physics, and chemistry.
Unlike recent shuttle missions to the International Space Station, this flight is about pure science. With more than eighty on-board experiments to conduct, the Columbia crew will have their hands full with around-the-clock operations.
"We haven't had a research-dedicated flight for quite some time," says Clark. "So we're doing as many experiments as we possibly can on this one. I specifically asked to work on astroculture experiments, because I knew they were sponsored by UW-Madison."
Those experiments, designed under the direction of Weijia Zhou '90, PhD'94 of the Wisconsin Center for Space Automation and Robotics, involve using bacteria to transfer genes into food and other crops. The astronauts hope to learn how to control the bacteria so that they do not harm the seedlings.
The flight, originally scheduled for July 19, has been delayed, keeping Clark on edge. "It's kind of like running a marathon," she says. "It's like you're running along, and the finish line is only about a mile away, and then someone tells you, 'Oh, no, we moved the finish line. Now it's ten miles away.' Now we have to take a breath and take stock of what's happened, and try to go into the mission more prepared than we would have been."
—Candice Andrews '77
The flight, originally scheduled for July 19, has been delayed, keeping Clark on edge. "It's kind of like running a marathon," she says. "It's like you're running along, and the finish line is only about a mile away, and then someone tells you, 'Oh, no, we moved the finish line. Now it's ten miles away.' Now we have to take a breath and take stock of what's happened, and try to go into the mission more prepared than we would have been."
—Candice Andrews '77
Sprechen Sie Learning
If you don't speak German, the hall chatter around Richardson House this fall could be all Greek to your ears. Two floors of the residence have been converted to Stockwerk Deutsch, where students will live, learn, and loaf almost entirely in German.
The house represents the newest option in a growing trend, where students live in environments that augment their learning. Bradley Hall opened in 1995 as the university's first so-called residential learning community, and UW-Madison has created three others since. Last year, more than 1,200 of the 6,700 students who lived in university housing took part in these communities, and that number will go up this year with the new German house, part of an expanded International Learning Community, which has been relocated from Merit Hall and now will occupy three houses of Adams Hall.
—Michael Penn MA'97
The house represents the newest option in a growing trend, where students live in environments that augment their learning. Bradley Hall opened in 1995 as the university's first so-called residential learning community, and UW-Madison has created three others since. Last year, more than 1,200 of the 6,700 students who lived in university housing took part in these communities, and that number will go up this year with the new German house, part of an expanded International Learning Community, which has been relocated from Merit Hall and now will occupy three houses of Adams Hall.
—Michael Penn MA'97
Practcing the Sweet Science
A few years ago while vacationing in Cape Cod, Rich Hartel watched the proprietor of a fudge shop stir a gooey concoction into a copper kettle the size of a bass drum. Eventually, the man began to describe his technique for making fudge. "It's not rocket science," he said.
"No," Hartel replied. "But it is candy science."
As the stuff of childhood fantasies, candy science may get short shrift in intellectual glamour. But a science it is, and a particularly complex one, at that. Few people know, for example, that it requires thirty coats of sugary syrup to create the shell of a single M&M. "There's a lot more that goes into it than most people realize," says Hartel.
"No," Hartel replied. "But it is candy science."
As the stuff of childhood fantasies, candy science may get short shrift in intellectual glamour. But a science it is, and a particularly complex one, at that. Few people know, for example, that it requires thirty coats of sugary syrup to create the shell of a single M&M. "There's a lot more that goes into it than most people realize," says Hartel.
Hartel, a professor of food science, directs UW-Madison's annual short course on confectionery technology, which took place this June for a landmark fortieth time. The summertime session is one of the only university courses in the country that acquaints industry professionals with the science of sweet.
Co-sponsored by the National Confectioners Association, it often draws enrollees from industry leaders such as Hershey, Godiva, LifeSavers, and M&M/Mars. During the course, students live on campus and immerse themselves in the sticky technical aspects of making candy - everything from mints to chocolates to gums and jellies.
"What sets us apart from other candy courses is the scientific nature of the material," says Hartel, one of a handful of UW experts researching candy.
Co-sponsored by the National Confectioners Association, it often draws enrollees from industry leaders such as Hershey, Godiva, LifeSavers, and M&M/Mars. During the course, students live on campus and immerse themselves in the sticky technical aspects of making candy - everything from mints to chocolates to gums and jellies.
"What sets us apart from other candy courses is the scientific nature of the material," says Hartel, one of a handful of UW experts researching candy.
Emeritus Professor Joe von Elbe '59, MS'60, PhD'64 organized the course for more than three decades. He saw it as an opportunity for candymakers to refine their craft and talk shop. Many of the instructors are from within the industry, and the discussions are laced with advanced concepts such as sugar crystallization and lipid migration.
About half of the course takes place in two basement laboratories in Babcock Hall, where enrollees get to work in small groups to make ... bad candy. Hartel says the lab experiments are often designed to fail - leading to gummies that are too gummy, for instance, or hard candy that might shatter a tooth if eaten. The experiences help illustrate how ingredients interact and react to the candymaking process, he explains.
Among this year's students was Lee Cohen '01, who majored in finance before taking a job in sales with Blommer Chocolate Company, based in Chicago. Cohen says he rarely made it to the life sciences side of campus. "When I first started my job, I thought this would be a pretty easy industry," he says. "Now I know that there are thirty different viscosities and forty different kinds of chocolate. I definitely have a new respect for candymakers."
—Michael Penn
About half of the course takes place in two basement laboratories in Babcock Hall, where enrollees get to work in small groups to make ... bad candy. Hartel says the lab experiments are often designed to fail - leading to gummies that are too gummy, for instance, or hard candy that might shatter a tooth if eaten. The experiences help illustrate how ingredients interact and react to the candymaking process, he explains.
Among this year's students was Lee Cohen '01, who majored in finance before taking a job in sales with Blommer Chocolate Company, based in Chicago. Cohen says he rarely made it to the life sciences side of campus. "When I first started my job, I thought this would be a pretty easy industry," he says. "Now I know that there are thirty different viscosities and forty different kinds of chocolate. I definitely have a new respect for candymakers."
—Michael Penn
