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Rare and Elusive Australian Bird, Once Thought Extinct for 100 Years, Discovered by Indigenous Rangers and Scientists

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Thursday, September 26, 2024

An illustration of night parrots by Elizabeth Gould, completed in 1890. Public domain via Wikimedia Commons The night parrot—a brilliantly colored, nocturnal bird—once thrived in Australia’s outback. The arrival of colonists and feral predators, however, brought about an almost catastrophic decline in the species’ population in the late 19th century. In fact, the vibrant, green parrots were believed to be extinct for roughly a century, until one of them was found in western Queensland in 1990. While that was heartening for scientists, there was one problem: The specimen was dead. Then, another dead night parrot was identified 16 years later. It wasn’t until 2013 that a naturalist found a small, living population in southwestern Queensland. Since then, the species’ known population has been in the tens of birds, and the night parrot remains one of the most elusive—and most endangered—birds on Earth. Now, however, a team of Indigenous rangers and scientists has discovered as many as 50 night parrots on land managed by the Ngururrpa people in Western Australia’s Great Sandy Desert. The new results from their project, which is supported with funding from Australia’s National Environmental Science Program’s Resilient Landscapes Hub, were published in the journal Wildlife Research on Monday. “We the Ngururrpa Rangers have been looking for night parrots since 2019. First, we thought they were only living in one area, on our neighbor’s country, but then we started checking in our area and ended up finding evidence that they are here,” Clifford Sunfly, a Ngururrpa ranger and co-author of the study, says in a statement. “We are still looking for them, to make sure they are safe, and we are still finding them.” Night parrots, once thought to be extinct for roughly 100 years, are among Australia's rarest and most elusive birds. Nicholas Leseberg Night parrots are generally difficult to detect—a fact that has been long recorded in Indigenous culture. The elusive species creates tunnels and nests in dense spinifex bushes and emerges at night to forage for seeds. Spotting such a creature has been called the “Holy Grail of birdwatching.” During their work, the rangers found physical evidence of night parrots, including feathers and nests with eggs, and they “knew it was a good sign,” Rudi Maxwell writes for NITV. A few years ago, they even captured a rare photograph of a night parrot—only the fourth image of the bird on record. This encounter put the team among the special group of fewer than 30 people who had seen a live night parrot in the last 100 years. The new breakthrough, though, came from sound data. Rangers used their knowledge of the environment to narrow down the parrot’s vast habitat to 31 potential roosting areas, where the team then placed sound recorders to listen for its distinctive calls, which include “whistles, croaks and bell-like sounds,” the team writes for the Conversation. “The acoustic data we gathered was then analyzed to extract any bird calls in the night parrot’s frequency range. Potential detections were verified using a reference library of known night parrot calls,” the scientists add in the Conversation. They successfully identified night parrot calls in 17 of the 31 sites they had chosen, ten of which were determined to be roost sites, since the calls sounded shortly after sunset and before sunrise. Four of the authors of the new night parrot paper—Angela Reid, Clifford Sunfly, Rachel Paltridge and Nicholas Leseberg—at the Ngururrpa Indigenous Protected Area Ngururrpa Rangers One of the night parrot’s diverse array of calls sounded like “didly dip, didly dip,” like a telephone, as study co-author Nick Leseberg, an ecologist at the University of Queensland, tells the Guardian’s Petra Stock. Another sounded like “dink dink,” resembling a bell. The team hypothesized the distribution of night parrots and the birds’ general population size by counting the number of different calls, because individuals are thought to have unique vocalizations. Researchers also took into account the volume of the call, which helps determine the location it came from. They then extrapolated these results across 58 potential habitats in the area and estimated up to 20 roosting sites may be active there, hosting a predicted total of between 40 and 50 birds. This makes the Ngururrpa Indigenous Protected Area population the largest known congregation of night parrots, since the known population in Queensland contains no more than 20 birds, per the Guardian. Having identified the night parrots by sound, the team moved on to studying threats to the endangered species using camera traps. They found that dingoes were the most present predators in the area—but the large, wild dogs were busy eating feral cats, which the team suspects are the real key predators of night parrots. So dingoes, they suggest, are actually protecting the night parrot population. A night parrot appears in a photograph captured by a camera trap. Ngururrpa Rangers Satellite imagery helped determine that lightning-caused bushfires pose a great threat to the parrots in the Great Sandy Desert. The rangers already conduct strategic land burning to manage that risk, but the new data could help them tailor their plan to protect roosting sites. Night parrots also benefit from a lack of human development in their environment, so the team argues remote habitats should be kept unindustrialized. In fact, the Great Sandy Desert “is probably one of the world’s most uninfluenced ecosystems when it comes to industrial-level footprints,” James Watson, a biogeographer at the University of Queensland who was not involved in the study, tells the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s Peter de Kruijff. “It’s these large, intact places that allow species to adapt to a changing climate, because they’ve got big, healthy populations that can move through the landscape,” he adds. Urgent action is needed to protect the newly discovered night parrot population, the scientists write in the Conversation, and to “ensure the night parrot doesn’t go missing a second time, perhaps for good.” Get the latest stories in your inbox every weekday.

Using sound recordings, the team identified the largest known population of the night parrot, a secretive species known as the "Holy Grail of birdwatching"

illustration of night parrots
An illustration of night parrots by Elizabeth Gould, completed in 1890. Public domain via Wikimedia Commons

The night parrot—a brilliantly colored, nocturnal bird—once thrived in Australia’s outback. The arrival of colonists and feral predators, however, brought about an almost catastrophic decline in the species’ population in the late 19th century. In fact, the vibrant, green parrots were believed to be extinct for roughly a century, until one of them was found in western Queensland in 1990.

While that was heartening for scientists, there was one problem: The specimen was dead. Then, another dead night parrot was identified 16 years later. It wasn’t until 2013 that a naturalist found a small, living population in southwestern Queensland. Since then, the species’ known population has been in the tens of birds, and the night parrot remains one of the most elusive—and most endangered—birds on Earth.

Now, however, a team of Indigenous rangers and scientists has discovered as many as 50 night parrots on land managed by the Ngururrpa people in Western Australia’s Great Sandy Desert. The new results from their project, which is supported with funding from Australia’s National Environmental Science Program’s Resilient Landscapes Hub, were published in the journal Wildlife Research on Monday.

“We the Ngururrpa Rangers have been looking for night parrots since 2019. First, we thought they were only living in one area, on our neighbor’s country, but then we started checking in our area and ended up finding evidence that they are here,” Clifford Sunfly, a Ngururrpa ranger and co-author of the study, says in a statement. “We are still looking for them, to make sure they are safe, and we are still finding them.”

a green bird with black speckles crouching low to the ground and looking to the right
Night parrots, once thought to be extinct for roughly 100 years, are among Australia's rarest and most elusive birds. Nicholas Leseberg

Night parrots are generally difficult to detect—a fact that has been long recorded in Indigenous culture. The elusive species creates tunnels and nests in dense spinifex bushes and emerges at night to forage for seeds. Spotting such a creature has been called the “Holy Grail of birdwatching.”

During their work, the rangers found physical evidence of night parrots, including feathers and nests with eggs, and they “knew it was a good sign,” Rudi Maxwell writes for NITV. A few years ago, they even captured a rare photograph of a night parrot—only the fourth image of the bird on record. This encounter put the team among the special group of fewer than 30 people who had seen a live night parrot in the last 100 years.

The new breakthrough, though, came from sound data. Rangers used their knowledge of the environment to narrow down the parrot’s vast habitat to 31 potential roosting areas, where the team then placed sound recorders to listen for its distinctive calls, which include “whistles, croaks and bell-like sounds,” the team writes for the Conversation.

“The acoustic data we gathered was then analyzed to extract any bird calls in the night parrot’s frequency range. Potential detections were verified using a reference library of known night parrot calls,” the scientists add in the Conversation. They successfully identified night parrot calls in 17 of the 31 sites they had chosen, ten of which were determined to be roost sites, since the calls sounded shortly after sunset and before sunrise.

four people standing in the Australian outback
Four of the authors of the new night parrot paper—Angela Reid, Clifford Sunfly, Rachel Paltridge and Nicholas Leseberg—at the Ngururrpa Indigenous Protected Area Ngururrpa Rangers

One of the night parrot’s diverse array of calls sounded like “didly dip, didly dip,” like a telephone, as study co-author Nick Leseberg, an ecologist at the University of Queensland, tells the Guardian’s Petra Stock. Another sounded like “dink dink,” resembling a bell.

The team hypothesized the distribution of night parrots and the birds’ general population size by counting the number of different calls, because individuals are thought to have unique vocalizations. Researchers also took into account the volume of the call, which helps determine the location it came from. They then extrapolated these results across 58 potential habitats in the area and estimated up to 20 roosting sites may be active there, hosting a predicted total of between 40 and 50 birds.

This makes the Ngururrpa Indigenous Protected Area population the largest known congregation of night parrots, since the known population in Queensland contains no more than 20 birds, per the Guardian.

Having identified the night parrots by sound, the team moved on to studying threats to the endangered species using camera traps. They found that dingoes were the most present predators in the area—but the large, wild dogs were busy eating feral cats, which the team suspects are the real key predators of night parrots. So dingoes, they suggest, are actually protecting the night parrot population.

a black and white camera trap image showing a small parrot in the lower left foreground
A night parrot appears in a photograph captured by a camera trap. Ngururrpa Rangers

Satellite imagery helped determine that lightning-caused bushfires pose a great threat to the parrots in the Great Sandy Desert. The rangers already conduct strategic land burning to manage that risk, but the new data could help them tailor their plan to protect roosting sites. Night parrots also benefit from a lack of human development in their environment, so the team argues remote habitats should be kept unindustrialized.

In fact, the Great Sandy Desert “is probably one of the world’s most uninfluenced ecosystems when it comes to industrial-level footprints,” James Watson, a biogeographer at the University of Queensland who was not involved in the study, tells the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s Peter de Kruijff.

“It’s these large, intact places that allow species to adapt to a changing climate, because they’ve got big, healthy populations that can move through the landscape,” he adds.

Urgent action is needed to protect the newly discovered night parrot population, the scientists write in the Conversation, and to “ensure the night parrot doesn’t go missing a second time, perhaps for good.”

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A Rare Whale Is Having an Encouraging Season for Births. Scientists Warn It Might Still Go Extinct

One of the world’s rarest whale species is having more babies this year than in some recent seasons, but experts say many more young are needed to help stave off the possibility of extinction

PORTLAND, Maine (AP) — One of the world's rarest whale species is having more babies this year than in some recent seasons, but experts say many more young are needed to help stave off the possibility of extinction.The North Atlantic right whale's population numbers an estimated 384 animals and is slowly rising after several years of decline. The whales have gained more than 7% of their 2020 population, according to scientists who study them.The whales give birth off the southeastern United States every winter before migrating north to feed. Researchers have identified 15 calves this winter, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration said Monday.That number is higher than two of the last three winters, but the species needs “approximately 50 or more calves per year for many years” to stop its decline and allow for recovery, NOAA said in a statement. The whales are vulnerable to collisions with large ships and entanglement in commercial fishing gear.This year's number is encouraging, but the species remains in peril without stronger laws to protect against those threats, said Gib Brogan, senior campaign director with environmental group Oceana. The federal government is in the midst of a moratorium on federal rules designed to protect right whales until 2028, and commercial fishing groups have pushed for a proposal to extend that pause for even longer.There is still time left for more baby whales to be born this winter, but 50 is not a reasonable expectation because of a lack of reproductive females in the population, Brogan said.“We're not going to be able to calve ourselves to recovery,” Brogan said. “We also need to be doing more to tackle the two primary causes of right whale deaths, being entanglement in fishing gear and being hit by boats.”The whales have fared better than last winter, when they gave birth to only 11 calves, according to NOAA data. The whales have reached 20 calves only twice since 2010, and they gave birth to no calves in a disastrous 2018 season. The whales are less likely to reproduce when they have suffered injuries or are underfed, scientists have said. The whales were hunted to the brink of extinction during the era of commercial whaling and have been federally protected for decades. They remain in a crisis at the moment because there have been more deaths than births in the population in the past decade, NOAA said in its statement.Copyright 2026 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – December 2025

How to kill a rogue AI

It’s advice as old as tech support. If your computer is doing something you don’t like, try turning it off and then on again. When it comes to the growing concerns that a highly advanced artificial intelligence system could go so catastrophically rogue that it could cause a risk to society, or even humanity, it’s […]

They’re here. | Costfoto/NurPhoto via Getty Images It’s advice as old as tech support. If your computer is doing something you don’t like, try turning it off and then on again. When it comes to the growing concerns that a highly advanced artificial intelligence system could go so catastrophically rogue that it could cause a risk to society, or even humanity, it’s tempting to fall back on this sort of thinking. An AI is just a computer system designed by people. If it starts malfunctioning, can’t we just turn it off? Key takeaways A new analysis from the Rand Corporation discusses three potential courses of action for responding to a “catastrophic loss of control” incident involving a rogue artificial intelligence agent.  The three potential responses — designing a “hunter-killer” AI to destroy the rogue, shutting down parts of the global internet, or using a nuclear-initiated EMP attack to wipe out electronics — all have a mixed chance of success and carry significant risk of collateral damage.  The takeaway of the study is that we are woefully unprepared for the worst-case-scenario AI risks and more planning and coordination is needed. In the worst-case scenarios, probably not. This is not only because a highly advanced AI system could have a self-preservation instinct and resort to desperate measures to save itself. (Versions of Anthropic’s large language model Claude resorted to “blackmail” to preserve itself during pre-release testing.) It’s also because the rogue AI might be too widely distributed to turn off. Current models like Claude and ChatGPT already run across multiple data centers, not one computer in one location. If a hypothetical rogue AI wanted to prevent itself from being shut down, it would quickly copy itself across the servers it has access to, preventing hapless and slow-moving humans from pulling the plug.  Killing a rogue AI, in other words, might require killing the internet, or large parts of it. And that’s no small challenge. This is the challenge that concerns Michael Vermeer, a senior scientist at the Rand Corporation, the California-based think tank once known for pioneering work on nuclear war strategy. Vermeer’s recent research has concerned the potential catastrophic risks from hyperintelligent AI and told Vox that when these scenarios are considered, “people throw out these wild options as viable possibilities” for how humans could respond without considering how effective they would be or whether they would create as many problems as they solve. “Could we actually do that?” he wondered. In a recent paper, Vermeer considered three of the experts’ most frequently suggested options for responding to what he calls a “catastrophic loss-of-control AI incident.” He describes this as a rogue AI that has locked humans out of key security systems and created a situation “so threatening to government continuity and human wellbeing that the threat would necessitate extreme actions that might cause significant collateral damage.” Think of it as the digital equivalent of the Russians letting Moscow burn to defeat Napoleon’s invasion. In some of the more extreme scenarios Vermeer and his colleagues have imagined, it might be worth destroying a good chunk of the digital world to kill the rogue systems within it.   In (arguable) ascending order of potential collateral damage, these scenarios include deploying another specialized AI to counter the rogue AI; “shutting down” large portions of the internet; and detonating a nuclear bomb in space to create an electromagnetic pulse. One doesn’t come away from the paper feeling particularly good about any of these options.  Option 1: Use an AI to kill the AI Vermeer imagines creating “digital vermin,” self-modifying digital organisms that would colonize networks and compete with the rogue AI for computing resources. Another possibility is a so-called hunter-killer AI designed to disrupt and destroy the enemy program.  The obvious downside is that the new killer AI, if it’s advanced enough to have any hope of accomplishing its mission, might itself go rogue. Or the original rogue AI could exploit it for its own purposes. At the point where we’re actually considering options like this, we might be past the point of caring, but the potential for unintended consequences is high.  Humans don’t have a great track record of introducing one pest to wipe out another one. Think of the cane toads introduced to Australia in the 1930s that never actually did much to wipe out the beetles they were supposed to eat, but killed a lot of other species and continue to wreak environmental havoc to this day.  Still, the advantage of this strategy over the others is that it doesn’t require destroying actual human infrastructure.  Option 2: Cut the cord Vermeer’s paper considers several options for shutting down large sections of the global internet to keep the AI from spreading. This could involve tampering with some of the basic systems that allow the internet to function. One of these is “border gateway protocols,” or BGP, the mechanism that allows information sharing between the many autonomous networks that make up the internet. A BGP error was what caused a massive Facebook outage in 2021. BGP could in theory be exploited to prevent networks from talking to each other and shut down swathes of the global internet, though the decentralized nature of the network would make this tricky and time-consuming to carry out.   There’s also the “domain name system” (DNS) that translates human-readable domain names like Vox.com into machine-readable IP addresses and relies on 13 globally distributed servers. If these servers were compromised, it could cut off access to websites for users around the world, and potentially to our rogue AI as well. Again, though, it would be difficult to take down all of the servers fast enough to prevent the AI from taking countermeasures. The paper also considers the possibility of destroying the internet’s physical infrastructure, such as the undersea cables through which 97 percent of the world’s internet traffic travels. This has recently become a concern in the human-on-human national security world. Suspected cable sabotage has disrupted internet service on islands surrounding Taiwan and on islands in the Arctic.  But globally, there are simply too many cables and too many redundancies built in for a shutdown to be feasible. This is a good thing if you’re worried about World War III knocking out the global internet, but a bad thing if you’re dealing with an AI that threatens humanity.  Option 3: Death from above In a 1962 test known as Starfish Prime, the US detonated a 1.45-megaton hydrogen bomb 250 miles above the Pacific Ocean. The explosion caused an electromagnetic pulse (EMP) so powerful that it knocked out streetlights and telephone service in Hawaii, more than 1,000 miles away. An EMP causes a surge of voltage powerful enough to fry a wide range of electronic devices. The potential effects in today’s far more electronic-dependent world would be much more dramatic than they were in the 1960s.  Some politicians, like former House Speaker Newt Gingrich, have spent years warning about the potential damage an EMP attack could cause. The topic was back in the news last year, thanks to US intelligence that Russia was developing a nuclear device to launch into space. Vermeer’s paper imagines the US intentionally detonating warheads in space to cripple ground-based telecommunications, power, and computing infrastructure. It might take an estimated 50 to 100 detonations in total to cover the landmass of the US with a strong enough pulse to do the job.  This is the ultimate blunt tool where you’d want to be sure that the cure isn’t worse than the disease. The effects of an EMP on modern electronics — which might include surge-protection measures in their design or could be protected by buildings — aren’t well understood. And in the event that the AI survived, it would not be ideal for humans to have crippled their own power and communications systems. There’s also the alarming prospect that if other countries’ systems are affected, they might retaliate against what would, in effect, be a nuclear attack, no matter how altruistic its motivations.  No good options Given how unappealing each of these courses of action is, Vermeer is concerned by the lack of planning he sees from governments around the world for these scenarios. He notes, however, that it’s only recently that AI models have become intelligent enough that policymakers have begun to take their risks seriously. He points to “smaller instances of loss of control of powerful systems that I think should make it clear to some decision makers that this is something that we need to prepare for.” In an email to Vox, AI researcher Nate Soares, coauthor of the bestselling and nightmare inducing polemic, If Anyone Builds It, Everyone Dies, said he was “heartened to see elements of the national security apparatus beginning to engage with these thorny issues” and broadly agreed with the articles conclusions — though was even more skeptical about the feasibility of using AI as a tool to keep AI in check.  For his part, Vermeer believes an extinction-level AI catastrophe is a low-probability event, but that loss-of-control scenarios are likely enough that we should be prepared for them. The takeaway of the paper, as far as he is concerned, is that “in the extreme circumstance where there’s a globally distributed, malevolent AI, we are not prepared. We have only bad options left to us.” Of course, we also have to consider the old military maxim that in any question of strategy, the enemy gets a vote. These scenarios all assume that humans were to retain basic operational control of government and military command and control systems in such a situation. As I recently reported for Vox, there are reasons to be concerned about AI’s introduction into our nuclear systems, but the AI actually launching a nuke is, for now at least, probably not one of them.  Still, we may not be the only ones planning ahead. If we know how bad the available options would be for us in this scenario, the AI will probably know that too.  This story was produced in partnership with Outrider Foundation and Journalism Funding Partners.

Eight Fascinating Scientific Discoveries From 2025 That Could Lead to New Inventions

By studying the natural world, scientists find blueprints for innovations that can improve human lives—in the genes of a shark, the fur of a polar bear and the flipper of an extinct reptile

Eight Fascinating Scientific Discoveries From 2025 That Could Lead to New Inventions By studying the natural world, scientists find blueprints for innovations that can improve human lives—in the genes of a shark, the fur of a polar bear and the flipper of an extinct reptile Carlyn Kranking - Associate Web Editor, Science December 30, 2025 8:00 a.m. Golden apple snails have eyes that are similar to humans’—and they can regenerate an amputated eye in just a month. Scientists uncovered a gene related to that process, laying the groundwork for more research that could help humans with eye injuries. Stowers Institute Humans are excellent inventors, but the best ideas aren’t formed in a vacuum. Sometimes, the spark for innovation comes from learning how things work in the world around us—and taking a page out of nature’s notebook. Biomimicry, or biomimetics, is the principle of creating technology, medications, artistic designs or environmental solutions that are based on the natural world. One day, for example, drones and robots might fold up in ways that resemble an insect’s wings or the creases in a cell wall. In 2025, scientists made new observations about animal biology and behavior that might have implications for solving human problems down the line. Researchers calculated how ants exert force, identified remarkable venom resistance in frogs and watched snails regrow their eyes. Among other findings, these studies are laying the groundwork for technological advances in the future. Here are eight scientific discoveries from the past year that might lead to new inventions. Lizards withstand levels of lead that would kill other animals Brown anole lizards (Anolis sagrei) in New Orleans survive despite high levels of lead in their blood. WebCrawley at English Wikipedia via Wikimedia Commons under CC BY-SA 3.0 Brown anoles in New Orleans might look like regular lizards from the outside, but a study published in August in Environmental Research revealed these reptiles are quietly tolerating some of the most extreme levels of lead exposure ever recorded. Based on the known lead tolerance of other vertebrates on Earth, researchers would have expected these anoles to be severely ill—and, more than likely, dead. Instead, the lizards are thriving. The animals examined by the researchers appeared healthy, had only minor damage to their liver and brain tissue, and performed well in speed, endurance and balance tests. But bone and blood samples from 40 anoles in high-exposure areas revealed they had almost 1,000 micrograms of lead per deciliter of blood on average, and one individual had more than three times that amount. Health experts say there is no safe level of lead exposure for children, and public health interventions would likely be initiated if a child’s blood-lead content reaches a mere 3.5 micrograms of lead per deciliter. New Orleans has “a long history with things like lead paint and leaded gasoline,” co-author Alex Gunderson, an evolutionary biologist at Tulane University, told Popular Science’s Andrew Paul. That lead has found its way into soils and dust, which both lizards and human children can ingest. The study suggests lizards with high levels of lead in their blood could serve as a proxy for finding locations in the city where humans might be at an elevated risk of exposure. And down the line, figuring out the molecular basis for how brown anoles tolerate lead could help scientists develop interventions for humans with heavy metal poisoning.Polar bear fur remains ice-free with natural oils The sebum, or oil, in polar bear fur has natural de-icing properties. Alan D. Wilson via Wikimedia Commons under CC BY-SA 3.0 Even in near-freezing temperatures, polar bears plunge into cold Arctic waters, chasing down seals or moving between patches of sea ice. Then, when they emerge into the frigid air, the mammals don’t get large clumps of ice clinging to their fur. In fact, when researchers have worked with sedated polar bears in the wild, they find the animals are almost inexplicably dry. To measure the ice resistance of polar bear fur, a team of scientists tested how much force was required to move an ice block across four different surfaces: washed and unwashed polar bear fur, human hair and chemical-coated mohair ski skins, which are hair-based coverings for skis used to decrease adherence to the ice. The findings, published in Science Advances in January, suggest the unwashed, greasy polar bear fur was comparable to the best ski equipment, outperforming both the human hair and the washed fur. That’s because the unwashed fur is coated in sebum, or natural oil, that acts as a built-in ice repellant. The researchers analyzed the components of polar bear sebum and found cholesterol, diacylglycerols and fatty acids. But they didn’t find a fatty oil called squalene, which is present in the hair of humans, sea otters and other mammals. They think the polar bears’ lack of squalene is another key to their ice-free fur. Polar bear fur’s de-icing properties have long supported human innovation. For instance, Inuit people have affixed patches of fur beneath the legs of stools to help them slide along the ice without sticking. And now that researchers have an understanding of the components that make polar bear sebum resistant to ice, they might be able to create new alternatives to ice repellants that rely on PFAS. Also known as “forever chemicals,” PFAS compounds remain in the environment for a long time and are typically used for producing nonstick materials and anti-ice coatings. “If we do it in the right way, we have a chance of making [these products] environmentally friendly,” study co-author Bodil Holst, a physicist at the University of Bergen in Norway, told the Washington Post’s Dino Grandoni. Ichthyosaur flippers were primed for stealth An illustration of the Jurassic ichthyosaur Temnodontosaurus (left) and the fossil of its wing-like flipper at Lund University in Sweden (right). Joschua Knüppe (left); Katrin Sachs (right) Maybe you’ve seen an owl swooping through a forest at twilight—but you probably didn’t hear it. With specialized feathers on their wings, the birds of prey can move almost soundlessly through the air. Now, it turns out that ichthyosaurs—massive, predatory marine reptiles that lived during the age of dinosaurs—might have stalked the seas with the same degree of stealth. In 2009, fossil collector Georg Göltz was searching around a road construction site in Germany when he spotted several fossil bits that together formed nearly an entire front flipper of an ichthyosaur. The pieces, incredibly, had soft tissue intact, making the discovery a “once in a lifetime” find. By examining the fragments, a team of scientists found that the rear edge of the flipper was not smooth but serrated—and the toothy serrations were made from cartilage reinforced with calcium. A study describing the flipper, published in Nature in July, used simulations to suggest this structure helped the ichthyosaur, called Temnodontosaurus, to move silently. What’s more, the shape suggests the flipper extended past the end of the skeleton, culminating in a cartilaginous tip that could likely flex to reduce drag, like the winglet on the end of an airplane’s wing. This would have made the predator a more efficient swimmer, reducing the need for it to thrash its tail to move. “Less movement means less noise,” lead author Johan Lindgren, a paleontologist at Lund University in Sweden, told London’s Natural History Museum. This prehistoric flipper might help engineers today by inspiring quieter propellers and hydrofoils on watercraft, ultimately reducing noise pollution in the oceans, Lindgren added. Teams of weaver ants become “superefficient” when building complex nests Scientists stumped by weaver ants complex teamwork In many cases, two hands are better than one—but that idea can quickly get messy as additional people join a team. Imagine a group project where some individuals end up doing more work while others sit idly. Or a tug-of-war match, when having more people pull on the rope only helps to a certain degree—eventually, a large group might get in each other’s way or fail to coordinate their tugs. This phenomenon is known as the Ringelmann effect, named for the 19th-century French engineer Max Ringelmann. It suggests that as more members get involved with a team, each individual becomes less productive. Robots, however, don’t suffer from the Ringelmann effect. With more robots involved in a task, they can be programmed to coordinate their efforts efficiently. But in a Current Biology study published online in August, scientists discovered that weaver ants can outperform even robots: As they increase the size of their team, pulling on leaves to use in building their nests, the ants don’t merely avoid losing efficiency, they actually become stronger—or “superefficient.” In other words, one weaver ant could pull about 60 times its body weight. But put together with a group of 15 comrades, an ant could almost double that, pulling nearly 100 times its weight. The researchers measured this by giving ants paper cutouts of leaves and using a force meter to track the strength of the insects in real time as they linked their bodies into long chains to pull. The key to this power is a system the researchers call the “force ratchet,” in which ants take on different roles depending on their place in the chain. Ants at the front pull on the leaf, while those at the back stretch out their bodies and act as anchors to counterbalance the leaf’s weight. Another part of the ants’ success comes from their six legs, which help them make solid contact with the ground while pulling. Combining this knowledge with the newfound setup of the force ratchet, the team hopes to examine how groups of multi-legged robots might be able to boost their collective force. “Programming robots to adopt ant-inspired cooperative strategies, like the force ratchet, could allow teams of autonomous robots to work together more efficiently, accomplishing more than the sum of their individual efforts,” Chris Reid, a co-author of the study and biologist at Australia’s Macquarie University, said in a statement. Snails regrow amputated eyes within a month Stowers scientists establish apple snail as a research organism for investigating eye regeneration Humans have gone to great lengths to innovate in service of our eyes, from early artificial stand-ins to rare tooth-in-eye surgeries meant to restore vision. But so far, one thing we haven’t been able to achieve is total eye regeneration. On the other hand, golden apple snails—a common aquarium species native to South America—can regenerate their eyes quite quickly. In a study published in Nature Communications in August, scientists describe how the snails grow a new eye after one is amputated—and they do it in just about a month. Within the first 24 hours after amputation, the wound heals enough to prevent fluid loss and infection. The body then sends unspecialized cells to the site, which, over the next week and a half, multiply and specialize into the beginnings of eye structures. All the structures are present within 15 days, but they continue to mature over the following weeks. The eyes of golden apple snails share some key traits with human eyes, despite their seemingly supernatural ability. Both are known as “camera-type” eyes, which operate with a single lens, a protective cornea and a retina with light-detecting cells. What’s more, the development of both species’ eyes is regulated by a gene called pax6: In an experiment, snails that had both copies of that gene deactivated developed without eyes. Now, the researchers want to verify that pax6 is also involved in the regeneration of apple snails’ eyes. Such a discovery could ultimately point to ways to help humans with eye diseases or injuries. “If we find a set of genes that are important for eye regeneration, and these genes are also present in vertebrates, in theory we could activate them to enable eye regeneration in humans,” lead author Alice Accorsi, a biologist at the University of California, Davis, said in a statement. Greenland sharks defy aging, living as long as 400 years Greenland sharks can live for several centuries, and researchers are looking at their DNA to try to figure out how they do it. Hemming1952 via Wikimedia Commons under CC BY-SA 4.0 Next year, the United States will celebrate its 250th birthday. But some sharks might be reaching their 400th. Dwelling within the frigid north Atlantic and Arctic waters, Greenland sharks hold the title of the longest-living fish, reaching maturity at the age of roughly 150 and living as long as 400—or maybe even 500—years. The sharks move very little when they swim, and they’re adapted for cold with a low metabolic rate. Scientists thought these traits might play a role in their longevity, but those factors alone couldn’t explain how the sharks outlive every other vertebrate on Earth. So, researchers looked at their genes. Scientists sequenced the Greenland shark’s genome, which is exceptionally long. In their genetic code, the creatures have roughly 6.5 billion base pairs—the “rungs” in the ladder-like structure of the DNA molecule—which is twice as many as humans have. In a preprint paper posted to bioRxiv in February, which has not yet undergone peer review, researchers report the shark’s long genome has many extra copies of genes tied to the NF-κB signaling pathway, which plays a role in the immune system, managing inflammation and regulating the growth of tumors. Shark species with shorter lifespans have fewer copies of these genes, per the study. “Since immune responses, inflammation and tumor formation significantly affect aging and lifespan, the increase in genes involved in NF-κB signaling might be related to the Greenland shark’s longevity,” study co-author Shigeharu Kinoshita, a researcher at the University of Tokyo, told New Scientist’s Chris Simms. Adding support to that idea is the red sea urchin, which is known to live beyond 100 years. A 2024 study found that the spiny invertebrate also has several copies of genes associated with the NF-κB signaling pathway. If researchers can learn more about the Greenland shark’s genome, they might be able to target places in our own genome with pharmaceuticals or gene therapies that might increase the amount of time humans can stay healthy. Pond frogs make an easy meal out of venomous hornets Pond frog preys on a giant hornet / トノサマガエルはオオスズメバチを捕食する The largest hornet in the world grows up to two inches across—and with its quarter-inch-long stinger, it can deal a potent dose of venom. Known as the northern giant hornet—or the “murder hornet”—the insect has a sting that can kill a mouse or put a human in serious pain. But in a December study in Ecosphere, Shinji Sugiura, an ecologist at Kobe University in Japan, watched black-spotted pond frogs devour these hornets without a second thought. The amphibians sustained multiple stings—and they didn’t even flinch. In a series of experiments, Sugiura tested 45 frogs—15 for each of three hornet species—and presented every one with a single insect. The frogs attacked with staggering success. Nearly 80 percent of the frogs given a northern giant hornet were able to swallow it, while 87 percent of frogs devoured a yellow-vented hornet and 93 percent ate a yellow hornet. Some amphibians produce their own toxins, which might give them an edge when it comes to venom resistance. But now, scientists hope to learn more about the pond frogs’ apparent resistance to the murder hornet’s sting, testing whether the amphibians can withstand other animals’ venoms and measuring just how many stings they can endure. “If pond frogs do possess physiological mechanisms that suppress pain or resist hornet venom, understanding them could one day help us develop new ways to reduce pain or inflammation in humans,” Sugiura told Gizmodo’s Ed Cara. Flamingos form tornado-like vortices as they probe for prey Tornado flamingo chattering A feeding flamingo looks to be performing an odd dance. Head down, with its bill below water, the bird stomps its feet and bobs its neck up and down. While it may look strange, the technique makes the flamingo an extremely effective filter-feeder capable of pulling shrimp and worms from nutrient-poor waters. To study this behavior, a team of scientists set up high-speed video cameras and lasers to record flamingos at the Nashville Zoo as they fed from tubs of water. Using 3D models of the birds’ heads, feet and beaks—as well as a real flamingo bill mounted to a machine that snapped it open and shut—the team modeled how the birds move the water. They published their findings in PNAS in May. As it turns out, the flamingos’ stomping stirs up food from the sediment. Then, the birds chatter their bills and move their tongues, altering the water flow in a way that draws in seven times more prey. And, when they pull their beaks rapidly out of the water, the birds create tiny tornado-like vortices, according to the research. The team suggests that harnessing vortices could lead to technologies that might gather up toxic algae or microplastics from oceans. Researchers are already testing filtration systems based on flamingos’ beaks that might improve wastewater treatment or water desalination. Taking another approach, the mechanics of flamingos’ webbed feet—and the animals’ habit of sliding their feet into the water rather than placing them flat—could inspire robots that walk successfully in mud. Regarding these future goals, co-author Saad Bhamla, a biophysicist at Georgia Tech, told Science News’ Elie Dolgin, “I’m cautiously optimistic.” Get the latest stories in your inbox every weekday.

With every extinction, we lose not just a species but a treasure trove of knowledge

Every new extinction ripples out beyond the affected species, from ecosystems to human knowledge across culture, spirituality and science.

The extinct desert rat kangaroo John Gould, Mammals of Australia (1845)The millions of species humans share the world with are valuable in their own right. When one species is lost, it has a ripple effect throughout the ecosystems it existed within. But there’s a hidden toll. Each loss takes something from humanity too. Extinction silences scientific insights, ends cultural traditions and snuffs out spiritual connections enriching human life. For instance, when China’s baiji river dolphin vanished, local memory of it faded within a single generation. When New Zealand’s giant flightless moa were hunted to extinction, the words and body of knowledge associated with them began to fade. In these ways, conservation is as much about safeguarding knowledge as it is about saving nature, as I suggest in my research. We’re currently living through what scientists call the planet’s sixth mass extinction. Unlike earlier events triggered by natural catastrophes, today’s accelerating losses are overwhelmingly driven by human activities, from habitat destruction to introduced species to climate change. Current extinction rates are tens to hundreds of times higher than natural levels. The United Nations warns up to 1 million species may disappear this century, many within decades. This extinction crisis isn’t just a loss to broader nature – it’s a loss for humans. New Zealand once had nine species of moa, large flightless birds. Richard Owen, Memoirs on the extinct wingless birds of New Zealand (1879), via Biodiversity Heritage Library/Unsplash, CC BY-NC-ND Lost to science Extinction extinguishes the light of knowledge nowhere more clearly than in science. Every species has a unique genetic code and ecological role. When it vanishes, the world loses an untapped reservoir of scientific knowledge – genetic blueprints, biochemical pathways, ecological relationships and even potential medical treatments. The two species of gastric-brooding frog once lived in small patches of rainforest in Queensland. These extraordinary frogs could turn their stomachs into wombs, shutting down gastric acid production to safely brooding their young tadpoles internally. Both went extinct in the 1980s under pressure from human development and the introduced chytrid fungus. Their unique reproductive biology is gone forever. No other frog is known to do this. Studying these biological marvels could have yielded insights into human conditions such as acid reflux and certain cancers. Ecologists Gerardo Ceballos and Paul Ehrlich called their extinctions a tragic loss for science, lamenting: “Now they are lost to us as experimental models”. Efforts at de-extinction have so far not succeeded. Biodiversity holds immense potential for breakthroughs in medicine, agriculture, materials and even climate change. As species vanish, the library of life shrinks, and with it, the vault of future human discoveries. Lost to culture Nature is deeply woven through many human cultures. First Nations people living on traditional lands hold detailed knowledge of local species in language, story and ceremony. Many urban residents orient their lives around local birds, trees, rivers and parks. When species decline or vanish, the songs, stories, experiences and everyday practices built around them can thin out or disappear. Extinction erodes our sense of companionship with the natural world and diminishes the countless small interactions with other species which help root our lives in joy, wonder and reverence. The bioacoustics researcher Christopher Clark has likened extinction to an orchestra gradually falling silent: everywhere there is life, there is song. The planet is singing – everywhere. But what’s happening is we’re killing the voices […] It’s like [plucking] the instruments out of the orchestra … and then it’s gone One haunting example of a vanished voice comes from Hawaii. In 2023, a small black-and-yellow songbird, the Kauaʻi ʻōʻō, was declared extinct. All that’s left is a last recording, where the last male sings for a female who will never come. Illustration of the extinct Kauaʻi ʻōʻō (Moho braccatus), adult and juvenile. John Gerrard Keulemans/Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-NC-ND Disturbingly, birdsong is declining worldwide, diminishing the richness of our shared sensory world. From an ecocentric perspective, each loss leaves the whole community of companion species poorer – humans included. Scientists call this the “extinction of experience”. As biologist David George Haskell writes, extinction is leaving the future: an impoverished sensory world […] less vital, blander. The loss of species is not only an ecological crisis but also a rupture in the communion of life – a deep injury to the bonds uniting beings. Loss of spiritual knowledge For many communities, nature is imbued with sacred meaning. Often, particular species or ecosystems hold deep spiritual significance. Australia’s Great Barrier Reef is venerated by Indigenous custodians, whose traditions describe it as part of a sacred, living seascape. As the reef’s biodiversity declines under climate stress, these spiritual connections are eroding, diminishing the sources of wonder, reverence and existential orientation which help define human belonging in the world – across and beyond faith traditions. Some ecotheological traditions regard nature as a book – a way to reveal divine truth alongside scripture. Nature holds deep significance for the varied communities and traditions viewing the land and its creatures as sentient, interconnected and sacred. Extinction weakens nature’s capacity to embody transcendent meaning. The natural world dims and dulls, leaving us with fewer opportunities to experience awe, beauty and a sense of the sacred. In this sense, extinction is more than biological loss. It severs spiritual ties between human and other beings in ways transcending worldviews. How do we grieve extinction? Extinctions often evoke grief, which is a way of knowing through feeling. Grieving a lost species points to the scale of the loss across scientific, cultural and spiritual dimensions. For Indigenous communities, this grief can be profound, born of deep environmental attachment. Scientists and conservationists witness cascading losses and bear the burden of foresight. Their grief may trigger anxiety, burnout and sorrow. But mourning the lost also makes the crisis tangible. Grieving for extinct life isn’t pointless. It can compel us to look closely at what remains, to recognise the intrinsic value of a species and to resist reducing biodiversity to its instrumental uses. This kind of mourning carries the seeds of ecological responsibility, inviting us to protect life not just for our purposes but because of its irreplaceable role in the communion of life. Johannes M. Luetz does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

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