August 13, 2012

Google Logo Add Us On GoogleAdd SciAm

#DispatchesDNLee: Do African Pouched Rats have belly pouches or cheek pouches?

By DNLee

Join Our Community of Science Lovers!

This article was published in Scientific American’s former blog network and reflects the views of the author, not necessarily those of Scientific American

I'm loving "Dispatches from Tanzania!" I had no idea that some rats have pouches. I'm guessing that the pouches are a similar to those of kangaroos. Does this species of rats use their pouches for their young as kangaroos do? ~Art For Life Member

No, they don't; but this actually is a very common misunderstanding. The Pouches are in their mouth, not on their bellies. When people hear of an animal with a pouch, most automatically think of belly pouches that Marsupials would have. Kangaroos, Koalas, even the opossums (of North America) are Marsupials. They birth very under-developed young that complete their natal development in the mother's belly pouch.

Since, some people assume rats have belly pouches, they may confuse them with wombats. Wombats and Pouched rats (that rhymes!) are ecologically similar: both live under ground, dig extensive burrows, live in very similar habitats and mostly active at nigh; but the pouched rat gets its name from its mouth or cheek patches.

On supporting science journalism

If you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.

Cricetomys have pouches like chipmunks: two pockets indie of their jaw, one on each side. They use them for storing food when they are out on foraging runs. When they return to their burrows, they empty the pouches and store the food (usually grains, seeds, and nuts) for later consumption.

I've seen my rats in the lab stuff their faces with rodent pellets and dump them in the corners where they sleep. Here in Tanzania, I've captured a subject who gobbled up all of the corn from the cob (bait) and had it sitting in her pouch. She let me do all of my measurements and handling and hardly spilled a kernel.

Interested in learning more about this adventure? Follow along on Twitter #DispatchesDNLee or submit your name address for a Postcard from Tanzania.

DNLee is a biologist and she studies animal behavior, mammalogy, and ecology . She uses social media, informal experiential science experiences, and draws from hip hop culture to share science with general audiences, particularly under-served groups.

More by DNLee

It’s Time to Stand Up for Science

If you enjoyed this article, I’d like to ask for your support. Scientific American has served as an advocate for science and industry for 180 years, and right now may be the most critical moment in that two-century history.

I’ve been a Scientific American subscriber since I was 12 years old, and it helped shape the way I look at the world. SciAm always educates and delights me, and inspires a sense of awe for our vast, beautiful universe. I hope it does that for you, too.

If you subscribe to Scientific American, you help ensure that our coverage is centered on meaningful research and discovery; that we have the resources to report on the decisions that threaten labs across the U.S.; and that we support both budding and working scientists at a time when the value of science itself too often goes unrecognized.

In return, you get essential news, captivating podcasts, brilliant infographics, can't-miss newsletters, must-watch videos, challenging games, and the science world's best writing and reporting. You can even gift someone a subscription.

There has never been a more important time for us to stand up and show why science matters. I hope you’ll support us in that mission.

Thank you,

David M. Ewalt, Editor in Chief, Scientific American

Subscribe