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Thousands of Glendale Unified students ordered to shelter-in-place due to wayward bear cub

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Wednesday, November 13, 2024

When the ranger’s away, the bear cub will play — and the kids will stay locked in school.At least that’s what happened Tuesday in La Crescenta, where multiple law enforcement and wildlife personnel spent the afternoon monitoring a bear cub hanging out in a tree in front of Crescenta Valley High School, powerless to compel the creature to go home.As authorities determined what to do, Glendale Unified School District officials ordered the high school and nearby La Crescenta Elementary to shelter in place.“We want to stress that things are OK, and the situation is actively being monitored,” said district spokesperson Kristine Nam.Classes continued as scheduled on each campus, though students were not allowed to go outside, Nam said. The school issued the shelter-in-place order from 10 a.m. to shortly after noon and then again at 1 p.m.Though the district occasionally sends out warnings about bears and mountain lions, this is the first time Nam said she had seen a bear-induced shelter-in-place order since she joined the district nine years ago.One parent of an elementary school student confirmed to The Times that La Crescenta dismissed students at their regularly scheduled 2:40 p.m. release time, while Crescenta Valley High dismissed students out a back exit.There are about 2,950 students, total, enrolled in the two schools.Nam said she’d received texts from parents who claimed the bear was one of a group seen in the area that included a mama bear and another cub.The cub in the tree, however, was the only one that deputies from the L.A. County Sheriff’s Department Crescenta Valley station were monitoring.Deputies first received reports at 1 a.m. of a cub around Crescenta Valley High.Lt. Michael Gonzalez said his office contacted a local humane society and the California Department of Fish and Wildlife to report the creature.“Unfortunately, we didn’t receive assistance from either,” Gonzalez said. “We don’t have personnel trained for this situation or have equipment to handle or transport animals back to their homes.”Gonzalez said deputies could only respond with lethal force in a life-and-death situation.Nonetheless, he said, deputies were monitoring the bear and would continue to do so.“We hoping that, by nightfall, the bear will move out and back into its habitat,” Gonzalez said. “We’re not allowed to subdue or really do anything to move the bear home.”Steve Gonzalez, a California Department of Fish and Wildlife information officer, lamented that his office’s bear wrangler was sick and that his department did not have on-the-ground personnel to help.The department was attempting to send an environmental scientist to the school to help with the bear’s reunification with its family and eventual return home.Steve Gonzalez confirmed that the bear was not tagged, so the department was not certain of the bear’s exact home, though it’s likely the nearby national forest.“I wouldn’t say this is a highly uncommon occurrence,” the Fish and Wildlife officer said. “In this case, though, we’re deferring to local law enforcement.”

Multiple agencies were monitoring an adolescent cub as it sat in a tree in front of Crescenta Valley High School, unable to compel the creature to go home.

When the ranger’s away, the bear cub will play — and the kids will stay locked in school.

At least that’s what happened Tuesday in La Crescenta, where multiple law enforcement and wildlife personnel spent the afternoon monitoring a bear cub hanging out in a tree in front of Crescenta Valley High School, powerless to compel the creature to go home.

As authorities determined what to do, Glendale Unified School District officials ordered the high school and nearby La Crescenta Elementary to shelter in place.

“We want to stress that things are OK, and the situation is actively being monitored,” said district spokesperson Kristine Nam.

Classes continued as scheduled on each campus, though students were not allowed to go outside, Nam said.

The school issued the shelter-in-place order from 10 a.m. to shortly after noon and then again at 1 p.m.

Though the district occasionally sends out warnings about bears and mountain lions, this is the first time Nam said she had seen a bear-induced shelter-in-place order since she joined the district nine years ago.

One parent of an elementary school student confirmed to The Times that La Crescenta dismissed students at their regularly scheduled 2:40 p.m. release time, while Crescenta Valley High dismissed students out a back exit.

There are about 2,950 students, total, enrolled in the two schools.

Nam said she’d received texts from parents who claimed the bear was one of a group seen in the area that included a mama bear and another cub.

The cub in the tree, however, was the only one that deputies from the L.A. County Sheriff’s Department Crescenta Valley station were monitoring.

Deputies first received reports at 1 a.m. of a cub around Crescenta Valley High.

Lt. Michael Gonzalez said his office contacted a local humane society and the California Department of Fish and Wildlife to report the creature.

“Unfortunately, we didn’t receive assistance from either,” Gonzalez said. “We don’t have personnel trained for this situation or have equipment to handle or transport animals back to their homes.”

Gonzalez said deputies could only respond with lethal force in a life-and-death situation.

Nonetheless, he said, deputies were monitoring the bear and would continue to do so.

“We hoping that, by nightfall, the bear will move out and back into its habitat,” Gonzalez said. “We’re not allowed to subdue or really do anything to move the bear home.”

Steve Gonzalez, a California Department of Fish and Wildlife information officer, lamented that his office’s bear wrangler was sick and that his department did not have on-the-ground personnel to help.

The department was attempting to send an environmental scientist to the school to help with the bear’s reunification with its family and eventual return home.

Steve Gonzalez confirmed that the bear was not tagged, so the department was not certain of the bear’s exact home, though it’s likely the nearby national forest.

“I wouldn’t say this is a highly uncommon occurrence,” the Fish and Wildlife officer said. “In this case, though, we’re deferring to local law enforcement.”

Read the full story here.
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Crews Are Working to Fix Alaska Native Villages Devastated by Flooding. but Will Residents Return?

Crews are working to repair remote Alaska Native villages that were devastated by the remnants of a typhoon last month

KWIGILLINGOK, Alaska (AP) — Darrel John watched the final evacuees depart his village on the western coast of Alaska in helicopters and small planes and walked home, avoiding the debris piled on the boardwalks over the swampy land.He is one of seven residents who chose to remain in Kwigillingok after the remnants of Typhoon Halong devastated the village last month, uprooting homes and floating many of them miles away, some with residents inside. One person was killed and two remain missing.“I just couldn’t leave my community,” John said while inside the town’s school, a shelter and command post where he has helped solve problems in the storm's aftermath.But what will become of that community and others damaged by the severe flooding — whether their people, including John's children, will come back — is an open question as winter arrives.The office of Alaska Gov. Mike Dunleavy says the state's focus is on repairing the villages and supporting the more than 1,600 people who were displaced. It could take 18 months. Hundreds are in temporary housing, many in Alaska's biggest city, Anchorage, where they must accustom themselves to a world very different from the subsistence lifestyle they're used to.Even with short-term repairs, residents question whether their villages can persist where they are as rising seas, erosion, melting permafrost and worsening storms threaten inundation year after year. John hopes repairs can keep the community together long enough to come up with a plan to move the village.“A lot of people have claimed they’re not returning. They don’t want to do this again,” said Louise Paul, a 35-year resident of Kipnuk, the hardest-hit village, who evacuated about 100 miles away to the regional hub city of Bethel. “Every fall, we have a flood. It might not be as extreme as this one was, but as the years have set in, we’re seeing it. The climate warming is increasing the storms and they’re just getting worse and worse.” A region of natural abundance — and floods Where the Yukon and Kuskokwim rivers enter the Bering Sea is one of the largest river deltas in the world — a low-lying area roughly the size of Alabama, with dozens of villages and a population of about 25,000 people. For thousands of years Athabascan and Yup’ik people were nomadic, following the seasons as they fished for salmon and hunted moose, walrus, seals, ducks and geese. They settled into permanent villages around churches or schools after missionaries and then government arrived. Those villages remain off the road system — connected by plane or boat, with all-terrain vehicles or snowmachines in winter.Flooding has long been a problem. Strong winds can push high tides and even sheets of ice onto land. In the 1960s, tidal floods prompted some frustrated residents of Kwigillingok to start another village, Konkiganak, about 10 miles (16 kilometers) away. Alaska Native villages on the front lines of global warming With climate change, storms have grown more intense. Shorter periods of ice coverage means less protection from erosion. Melting permafrost undermines villages.Kwigillingok spent years seeking state and federal help as well as working to raise some houses on pilings and to move others to higher ground, according to a 2019 report from the Alaska Institute for Justice. But that “high ground” is only about 3 feet (0.9 m) above the rest of the village on the flat, treeless tundra.In Kipnuk, the Kugkaktlik River has cut ever closer. This year, the Trump administration canceled a $20 million grant for a rock wall to reinforce the riverbank — a step recommended by the Army Corps of Engineers in 2009 — amid the administration’s efforts to cut government spending.Some 144 Alaska Native communities face threats from warming, said a 2024 report from the Alaska Native Tribal Health Consortium. Over the next 50 years, some $4.3 billion will be needed to mitigate damage, it found.Relocating villages is no easy task. Newtok began planning in the mid-1990s and only moved its last residents into the new town of Mertarvik, northwest of Kwigillingok, last year. The relocation cost more than $160 million in state and federal money. A storm surge unlike others Harry Friend has lived through many floods in Kwigillingok in his 65 years, but nothing like what the remnants of Typhoon Halong brought the night of Oct. 11. Other homes, loosed from the ground, bashed his before floating upriver. The Coast Guard plucked dozens of survivors from rooftops.“When the water started coming in, my house was floating, shaking, floating, shaking," he said. The next morning, the homes of his older sisters and brother, who lived next door, were gone.His family has settled with relatives in a nearby village, but he returned to see what he could salvage and to retrieve his shotguns so he can hunt.Unmoored homes are scattered across the tundra like game pieces on a board. One building rested on its corrugated metal roof and rocked in the wind. Others had smashed into boardwalks. Coffins lodged in above-ground cemeteries washed away.But work crews have arrived with large earth movers, gravel and other material brought by barge. Some residents have come back to help, such as by repairing boardwalks, recovering coffins or righting fishing boats that overturned.Efforts to rebuild, which include repairing water and fuel lines, will proceed as long as the weather allows, said state emergency management spokesman Jeremy Zidek.Kwigillingok resident Nettie Igkurak stayed behind to cook traditional food for the workers, search crews and remaining residents. The school freezer works, and it's stocked with moose meat.“I knew I had to stay and cook for them because they had no one,” she said.Friend has since rejoined his family. He couldn't remain at the home for the winter: The power outage spoiled his stockpile of seal, walrus, moose and beluga whale. And because the storm surge forced salt water from the Bering Sea into the village, there's little access to fresh water.He knows the village will likely need relocation.“This is our land," Friend said. “You’ve got to come back to your home."Some 500 miles (800 km) away, Darrell John of Kipnuk — not related to the Darrel John who remained in Kwigillingok — is realizing his idyllic subsistence life may be over.“We’re probably never going back home,” he said as he took a break from filling out assistance applications at a shelter in Anchorage.Like other residents, he was airlifted twice — first to the regional hub of Bethel, and then to Anchorage when shelters in Bethel became too crowded. He and his family are staying in a motel room.They abandoned their home for the village school as the water rose at 2 a.m. When he returned, it was gone, along with his shed full of freezers packed with berries, fish, moose and seal.He got in a boat, found his house far upriver, and retrieved some clothing and birth certificates.As they were airlifted out, he saw that most of the village cemetery's graves were gone. He felt like he was abandoning his late mother and brother.Anchorage has its advantages, he said: “Flushing toilets; we don’t have them back home.”But to hunt, he now needs permits and for the animals to be in season — hurdles foreign to subsistence hunters.And he will need a job — but what?“I have no idea,” John said. “This was not a plan to be here."Johnson reported from Seattle and Bohrer from Juneau, Alaska.___ The Associated Press’ climate and environmental coverage receives financial support from multiple private foundations. AP is solely responsible for all content. Find AP’s standards for working with philanthropies, a list of supporters and funded coverage areas at AP.org.Copyright 2025 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See – Oct. 2025

Researchers Found Hundreds of Mysterious Dimples on the Seafloor Near Antarctica. Now They Know What Creature Made Them

The indentations are nests of fish called yellowfin notie, and they are not randomly scattered—rather, they appear to have been arranged in distinct patterns

Researchers Found Hundreds of Mysterious Dimples on the Seafloor Near Antarctica. Now They Know What Creature Made Them The indentations are nests of fish called yellowfin notie, and they are not randomly scattered—rather, they appear to have been arranged in distinct patterns Sarah Kuta - Daily Correspondent November 6, 2025 8:56 a.m. While seaching for Ernest Shackleton's lost ship Endurance in 2019, researchers stumbled across clusters of indentations on the seafloor. Weddell Sea Expedition 2019 Scientists were using an underwater robot to explore the waters around Antarctica when they came across a peculiar scene: The seafloor was dotted with hundreds of mysterious dimple-like indentations. At first, the researchers were totally perplexed. Working aboard the polar research vessel S.A. Agulhas II, they went back and forth, debating what the imprints might be—and what might have made them, reports BBC Wildlife Magazine’s Melissa Hobson. Now, the scientists say they have an answer. The depressions were nests created by yellowfin notie (Lindbergichthys nudifrons), a type of fish that thrives in the extreme cold of Antarctic waters. Researchers describe their discovery in a new paper published October 28 in the journal Frontiers in Marine Science. Fun fact: A big berg When the giant iceberg A68 broke free from the Larsen C ice shelf in 2017, it made news, even becoming a social media star. It's no wonder: The iceberg was twice as large as the entire country of Luxembourg and was even visible from space, before breaking up into smaller pieces. The discovery “goes to show that exploration of our world is still underway, with constant new findings,” lead author Russ Connelly, a marine biologist at the University of Essex in England, tells CNN’s Ashley Strickland. Researchers discovered the yellowfin notie nests during the 2019 Weddell Sea Expedition. The mission, which took place in January and February 2019, included scientists from around the world. It had several goals. A big one was to find Ernest Shackleton’s lost ship Endurance, which became trapped in sea ice and sank in 1915. But the team also wanted to investigate ice shelves in the Weddell Sea, particularly a largely unexplored region of the Larsen C ice shelf on the Antarctic Peninsula. In July 2017, a massive, 2,200-square-mile iceberg called A68 broke free from the ice shelf, revealing a huge swath of newly accessible seafloor below. “That calving event provided a unique opportunity to study a region undergoing rapid environmental change, specifically the first chance to study previously inaccessible areas of the seabed that were once underneath A68,” Connelly writes in a commentary accompanying the paper.The researchers didn’t find the Endurance—though another group located it three years later in 2022—but they did learn plenty about the Weddell Sea, one of the most remote and least studied regions on the planet, Connelly writes. The yellowfin notie nests, for example, were a major find. In total, the team documented 1,036 nests across five sites. The researchers found larvae in and around 72 of them. Video footage also revealed new insights about the creatures, including how they arrange their nests to ensure the survival of their young. The nests, which had all been cleared of plankton, were not randomly scattered. Instead, they were “organized into distinct patterns, forming a vast, geometric fish neighborhood on the seafloor,” Connelly writes. Over 1,000 Strange Markings Discovered On Antarctic Seafloor Many of the nests were arranged in clusters, and the scientists suspect this setup helps keep the eggs safe from hungry predators, like brittle stars and ribbon worms. Once the eggs are laid, males stand guard for roughly four months to ensure the little ones don’t get eaten. Since yellowfin notie males are known to defend the area surrounding their nest—up to about 9.8 inches away—the clusters likely make everyone safer. Some of the nests were more isolated, perched on the outskirts of the communities. Researchers think those are inhabited by larger, stronger fish that are better suited to defend themselves and their eggs on their own. The arrangement is an example of the “selfish herd” theory, which posits that animals “reduce their domain of danger by putting other individuals between themselves and an approaching predator,” the researchers write in the paper. Similar defensive nesting patterns have been observed in other species of fish, though this is the first time scientists have documented it in yellowfin notie. “The entire community is a dynamic interplay between cooperation and self-preservation,” Connelly writes. Nearly 15 percent of the active nests had pebbles in and around them, and some had been built next to rocks. The researchers suspect the fish might be taking advantage of stones that fall off icebergs as they melt. These rocks “are ideal to lay eggs on as they allow good oxygenation of the eggs, helping to prevent rotting on the seafloor, whilst also providing a barrier to animals living within the muds to eating the eggs,” Autun Purser, an ecologist at the Alfred Wegener Institute who was not involved with the research but reviewed the paper for the journal, tells CNN. Zooming out, the scientists hope their findings will help support efforts to get the Weddell Sea designated as a marine protected area. The move would not only help protect charismatic creatures like penguins and seals, but also “these hidden nurseries that form part of the Antarctic food web,” Connelly writes. “These underwater environments are a powerful reminder that even in the planet’s most extremes, life finds a way to build complex, resilient communities,” he adds. Get the latest stories in your inbox every weekday.

The David vs. Goliath Story of a Ranching Family and an Oil Giant

They were cowboys amid the mesas in a corner of New Mexico. For years they coexisted with an oil company — until one day they couldn’t. The post The David vs. Goliath Story of a Ranching Family and an Oil Giant appeared first on .

About two months ago, a slow fall hit rock bottom for Richard Hodgson and his son Kaleb Hodgson when a white pickup truck drove through the middle of an elk hunt on their property in far northwest New Mexico. Elk scattered, their hunting clients left, and the Hodgsons realized that the oil companies that had drilled their land for decades might not be their friends after all. “It just drives me totally insane,” Richard said.  He’s the patriarch of three generations of Hodgsons who live on a spread he started 42 years ago in the high, dry country he loves. Richard was born and grew up in nearby Farmington but always wanted to be a cowboy in the San Juan Basin, among the region’s green and tan mesas under an electric blue sky.  As a young man he bought the ranch’s initial parcel with money made from driving trucks and working as a roustabout for oil and gas companies. In lean ranching years he’d go back to the oil patch for the money, using that to buy more land.  Today the family runs around 200 mother and calf pairs on the 5,600 acres it owns and roughly 32,000 it leases from the U.S. Bureau of Land Management. And everywhere you look on that land, there’s an oil or gas well — the family doesn’t know how many. “I don’t know if we really want to know,” said Kaleb, Richard’s eldest son. “It’s kind of overwhelming, honestly.” Kaleb said a movie crew came to the ranch a few years ago to shoot scenes for a film and loved the place — but won’t be back. Crew members told him it cost too much to digitally remove all the wells that appeared in the background. Father and son think they have room enough to run another 60 to 100 cow-calf pairs, but recent droughts have shriveled the forage and dried up the natural watering holes. The oil and gas that come out of the ground in the San Juan Basin contribute to the changing climate that’s drying the region. This summer, the dust was so thick on the grass that it wore down the cows’ teeth. “It takes years off their life,” Kaleb said. “Everything’s an uphill battle out here,” Richard said. “All I ask for is respect.” Kaleb Hodgson, Luke Whitley and Richard Hodgson stand in a pasture on the Hodgson ranch. Years ago, the well tanks behind them leaked and flooded the pasture with produced water and oil. And the family feels it isn’t getting any from its biggest neighbor, Hilcorp Energy Co. The Houston-based company is one of the largest privately held oil and gas producers in the country, with operations in nine states. In 2017 the company began a massive acquisition campaign in the San Juan Basin when it bought ConocoPhillips’ assets. In the New Mexico portion of the basin, it now operates 11,400 wells. Roughly 1,600 of them pepper the area on and around the Hodgsons’ lands. Hilcorp and the Hodgsons are close neighbors because of a legal quirk called a split estate, under which the property rights to the surface land are separate from those of the minerals that lie beneath. The Hodgsons own the surface rights, and the federal government owns the underlying mineral rights, which, in this area, it leases primarily to Hilcorp. By law, landowners must allow subsurface rights owners to have access to those minerals. For the Hodgsons, that access takes shape in a spiderweb of roads and wells stitching their thousands of acres of pine-dotted mesas and valleys.  For years, that arrangement between the Hodgsons and Hilcorp worked —  until very recently, when it didn’t. Hilcorp did not respond to Capital & Main’s repeated requests for comment. *   *   * Over the years, relations with oil companies were manageable, if not always great.   Richard recalled his days as a roustabout and truck driver decades ago and what he called the industry’s almost complete lack of environmental controls at the time.  One example: He said that companies used natural gas to flush out newly drilled wells, then lit the polluted mixture on fire in massive flares. “This whole country at night was orange,” he said. “It was so wasteful.” Richard Hodgson. Another example: Wastewater from oil production — often called produced water and  laden with hydrogen sulfide — was dumped in ditches and ponds throughout the region. “I done it. I was sent out to do it,” Richard said. He’s sure that all of the ground beneath waste pits near older wells are contaminated from that dumping. Another example: A few years ago, he watched a neighbor’s cow drink from a puddle of filthy water pooled beneath a pumpjack. The cow stumbled off, bellowing, then fell in a ditch and died. And another: On a hot summer day, before he could grab its collar, one of Richard’s dogs jumped into an open waste pit to cool off. The dog swam around and came out covered in grease, immediately got sick and went deaf. The dog lived for a couple of years before it was run over by a truck it couldn’t hear. One more: In November, 2023, there was a spill at a well he could see from his front door. He worked for a whole day alongside a crew hired by Hilcorp to dig out 1,000 yards of petroleum soaked soil. “We got out of the hole, and everybody had a headache [from the fumes]. It was that dirty,” he said.  Richard said he left for a few hours. When he returned, the company had fenced off the pit and said their work was done. In April, 2024, Richard called the New Mexico Oil Conservation Division — the state’s primary oilfield enforcer — to get Hilcorp to remove more contaminated soil. Nothing more was removed, and two weeks later Hilcorp submitted a closure report to the Division, saying the company had finished its cleanup work. The Division closed the case the same day. The Division’s response read, in part, “Since the release occurred within an area reasonably needed for production operations (on-pad), the reclamation report will be due after the gas well has been plugged and abandoned.” That may be a while. Last year the well produced 25,500,000 cubic feet of natural gas, worth roughly $56,000.  When a previous company wanted to put a well atop the untouched mesa behind Richard’s home, he offered a spot at the base of the mesa, 500 feet from his front door. “I’d rather have that than destroy this last piece of land we got,” he said. There are now 30 active gas wells within a mile of Richard’s house. The family coped with all of it over the years with different companies.  “We did have a good working relationship to them,” Kaleb said. A truck hauling sand for a fracking job passes Kaleb Hodgson as he drives a road on his ranch. And the Hodgsons do a lot of work in their three main businesses on the ranch: raising cattle, hosting elk hunts and maintaining the maze of dirt roads connecting all the wells on the property. That maintenance happens — happened — through a long-running series of agreements with oil companies going back years. Richard and Kaleb said that earlier this year, a new landman — the person companies hire to deal with landowners — began slowly cutting them off. They don’t know why. The landman didn’t take their calls. He said if the Hodgsons had anything to say, they could call Hilcorp’s lawyers. The Hodgsons said Hilcorp also canceled its agreement with them to maintain the roads on the property. In addition to clearing access to the wells, that work channeled the region’s intermittent — and occasionally torrential — rains off the roads and well pads and onto surrounding grasslands. The work was good for the oil crews, good for the Hodgsons and good for the livestock and wild game. Plus, there was no way the Hodgsons could afford to do the work without the contract. “They come up fighting like I’ve never seen an oil company do after 40 years,” Richard said. “I’ve never had a company just stomp their feet … and say, ‘We ain’t going to deal with you.’” In September, after months of deteriorating relations with Hilcorp, a line was crossed.  The Hodgsons nurture the elk population on their land. “We take care of them all year round,” Richard said. “We provide feed, shelter and water. And then we do harvest some.” Hunters pay thousands of dollars for that privilege. But it’s not easy to track wild animals over thousands of acres, and successful hunts aren’t guaranteed. Many factors can spoil a hunt. To keep some variables in their favor, every year Richard and Kaleb have negotiated with Hilcorp and its predecessor companies to keep trucks off certain roads in the early mornings and early evenings. That allows elk to gather in herds to eat and drink, increasing the chance that hunters can find them amid the mesas. Kaleb said he texted the landman the day before a scheduled bow hunt, asking Hilcorp to keep trucks away from specific areas, and the landman agreed.  It was 6 a.m. the next day, just before dawn. One of Kaleb’s nephews was walking slowly between pine and cedar trees in the faint light atop a mesa, leading a small group of bow hunters. They had spent the night in a camp to be ready at first light. At that point, they could see elk gathering in the valley below.  Then they heard a truck, and the elk scattered. The nephew texted Kaleb to explain what happened, but the damage was done. The hunters hiked to the next valley over, hoping to find more elk, but didn’t. “We’ve had these hunters for five years,” Richard said. “They’ve always paid a deposit for next year, and [this time] they didn’t pay no deposits. I don’t think they’re coming back.” The spoiled hunt was a clarion call for the family. “It showed us that they put a bullseye on us,” Richard said. Meanwhile, other problems grew. A week and a half after the botched hunt, water from a colossal cloudburst ran off the mesa behind their houses, washed over one of the untended roads and flooded a well pad with two and a half feet of water. The water flushed the sludge from two open-top below-ground storage tanks, creating a pond of black goo. Kaleb kept a mason jar filled with a sample, which had the consistency of old motor oil. Kaleb Hodgson holds a mason jar filled with oily sludge he collected from a spill site in September. Several days later, while standing next to the muddy well pad, Kaleb explained how much waste Hilcorp told him was flushed from the tanks. “They say it was only 21 barrels, but it covered that whole entire berm,” he said. At two and a half feet deep, the 5,400-square-foot area inside the berm could hold roughly 2,400 barrels of liquid. Kaleb said that much of the oil and water simply sank into the ground. As he spoke, workers from a cleanup company shoveled contaminated soil into a vacuum truck that could hold 80 barrels, the second that Kaleb had seen at the site.  “Contaminated dirt should have been dug out,” he said. Kaleb said he sees the resulting problem as twofold. There’s the obvious groundwater contamination from the spilled sludge, and then there’s the wasted rain water. If the roads had been maintained, the runoff would have bypassed the well pad and filled a pasture the Hodgsons have nurtured over the years, turning two hundred acres of scrubby dirt to a grassland that feeds cattle and other animals. “We wasted all that water,” Kaleb said. And the waste may have polluted the land where the family’s cattle and elk graze. A cleanup crew sucks up the oily remnants of waste sludge that was sluiced from two underground tanks by a rainstorm on the Hodgson ranch in September. *   *   * Though Hilcorp didn’t respond to requests for comment for this story, after Capital & Main visited the ranch, the Hodgsons said company representatives asked them if they had been talking with journalists. “I think we somewhat got their attention,” Richard said.  He said Hilcorp sent a new landman, who allowed the Hodgsons to fix the washed-out road near the flooded well pad so it wouldn’t flood again. Hilcorp also tested the soil there. “They did some core drilling, but I won’t accept that,” Richard said. “We’ll have to dig it out and find out what we got.” He said Hilcorp also hired a company to take care of another spill he recently came across. After months of problems, Richard and Kaleb are skeptical of the quick about-face. “They’re getting really worried about these spills because they know that I’m upset, and I’m going to make some noise,” Richard said. “I’m not saying, ‘Do not drill.’ I’m just saying, ‘Do it reasonably,’” he added. “I mean, hell, the country’s making you just very, very wealthy. Why would you not put a little bit back into what you tear up?” he asked. “That’s all I want these companies to do. Just be reasonable.” After the Hilcorp truck spoiled the elk hunt, Richard and Kaleb got in touch with their nearest neighbors, Don and Jane Schreiber, who live about 15 miles away. “There are not very many of us that live out here,” Richard said. “So anybody who can live out here and appreciate the land is a friend of mine.” The Schreibers are known for fighting oil and gas companies that thoughtlessly drill or poorly maintain wells on their land. And like Richard, Don grew up in Farmington and harbored a dream of running a ranch. Also, like the Hodgsons, the Schreibers’ own land is split-estate.  Don Schreiber looks over paperwork from a years-long battle with Hilcorp Energy about a spill on his ranch. The Schreibers bought their ranch in 1999 and over the years they have slowly sold off their cattle and leased the land to other ranchers. “I turned my back on my dream,” Don said. Instead, they spend much of their time raising awareness about how oil and gas drilling has degraded the landscape in the northwest corner of the state.  “We had two blissful years out here,” Don said of their earliest ranching days. “But then the fights started.” He said a childhood friend who worked for an oil company explained to him what companies thought of the Schreibers’ ranch and lands like it: “Pard, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but we’d just as soon have this S.O.B. paved.” After a half-dozen years of contesting sporadic oil and gas well proposals on their land — which they lost — the Schreibers’ big fights with oil and gas companies began in earnest in late 2007, when a company proposed drilling 44 new wells on their property. The Schreibers thought most of those should be “twinned,” by adding the new wells to existing well sites, which would preserve untouched ranch land from more well pads and connecting roads. After an “intense fight,” the company put in just 22 new wells, all “twinned” on existing pads, Don said.  “So in the end, we did win,” he said. But, he added, “I mean, every time you drill a well, you lose a bit.”  Over the years, Don and Jane recorded each tussle, filling binders with letters, emails and documents recording the slow but relentless fights to protect their land. Don also keeps a small display with photos of nine separate incidents in which he got a company to clean up an unacknowledged mess or unnecessary well. He shows it off at public meetings and to company representatives at their first meetings. He said its message for them is clear: “I don’t know if it’s gonna take four years or 14 years — we’re gonna beat you.” In his experience, constant, determined pressure gets a company to do what you want it to do. It’s a style of work familiar to the Hodgsons. In late September on an afternoon spent driving to a far corner of the ranch, a thin column of diesel smoke from a distant fracking site was the only thing that marred a crisply blue sky. The San Juan Mountains in southern Colorado sketched a dark jagged blue line on the horizon. Richard, his grandson Luke Whitley and Kaleb were out to round up some cows that had wandered off a pasture.  One of the Hodgson’s dogs corners loose cows near a natural gas compressor station on the family’s ranch. Aside from their Ford dually pickup and cellphones peeking from their pockets, the three could have walked off a Western film set a century ago. Each wore a cowboy hat — Kaleb’s in black felt — as well as scuffed boots with worn spurs. Later, they donned scarred chaps to protect their pants from the sage, juniper and piñon trees. Three calm horses and a clutch of excitable ranch dogs rode in the trailer behind. The leather on the horses’ saddles was dull on the sides and polished in the seats from years of use. As he drove, Kaleb described how he and his family trained horses — an integral part of running the ranch.  “Horses are very smart, complicated animals. But also they’re very simple,” he said. “They react off of your pressure.” Pressure from the reins, pressure through the knees. Pressure and release. Slowly pressure the horse in the direction you want it to go — then release the pressure.  “You do that a few times. And then you ask for half an inch. And then you do that a few times and you work your way up to an inch. Then you’re asking at the end of it for a foot,” he said. Kaleb said all horses react to pressure and release in some way. “Even bucking horses,” he said. “They’ll react to pressure and release if you’re just consistent with it.” Eventually, no matter how big or powerful the horse, careful, determined pressure gets it to do what you want it to do.  The same principle appears to be working in their relationship with Hilcorp. After meeting with the Schreibers and calling Capital & Main, the Hodgsons said Hilcorp honored their recent late-September elk hunt hours and have been working on the spill sites. But Kaleb and Richard remain ready to apply more pressure.  “I don’t know where we’re going to go with all of it,” Richard said. “[We’re] just not letting anything lie.” One of Richard Hodgson’s ranch dogs joins him in the field. Copyright 2025 Capital & Main. All photos by Jerry Redfern.

Our bodies are ageing faster than ever. Can we hit the brakes?

All over the world people are ageing more rapidly and succumbing to diseases that typically affected the elderly. But there are ways to turn back the clock on your biological age

A decade or so ago, I had my biological age measured. I was in my mid 40s at the time and was fit, slim and a disciplined eater. When the results came back, I was gratified to discover that I was, biologically, quite a bit younger than my age. Around six years, if I remember correctly. I dread to think what it is now. In the intervening years, I have gained weight, stopped exercising as much, experienced multiple heatwaves and been through an extremely traumatic event, the suicide of my wife. I definitely feel all of my 55 years, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m biologically older. If so, I wouldn’t be alone. In the past few years, scientists have discovered a troubling trend in biological ageing. All over the world, people are getting older faster. Those born after 1965 are ageing, biologically, more rapidly than people born a decade earlier, and diseases that were once considered to be a scourge of the elderly are becoming ever-more common in younger people. People born before 1965 are ageing, biologically, more slowly than those born more recentlySTR/AFP via Getty Images “Cancers are increasing in younger age populations, people under 40 years of age have more heart attacks, more diabetes,” says Paulina Correa-Burrows, a social epidemiologist at the University of Chile in Santiago. “Why? My answer is because we’re ageing faster.” The reasons for this shift are starting to become clear. Some, unfortunately, are unavoidable. Many, thankfully, are modifiable. So, how can we endeavour to keep our biological and chronological ages in step? The best way to measure how rapidly somebody is ageing is by measuring their biological age and then doing so again a few months or even years later. The most accepted tool for this, says Antonello Lorenzini at the University of Bologna in Italy, is epigenetic clocks, tests that analyse modifications to DNA. These aren’t perfect – precise biological ages should be taken with a grain of salt – but they are enough for telling who, out of a group of participants, is ageing faster or slower. “ Some people are 10 years or more younger or older, biologically, than their actual age “ These tests recognise that chronological age – the number of years someone has lived – isn’t always a good indicator of how far along the ageing trajectory they are. In fact, it can be way off. For most people, there is a reasonably good correspondence, but some people are 10 years or more younger or older, biologically, than their actual age. And unlike chronological age, biological age can go down as well as up. The first suggestions that biological ageing is accelerating came from the world of obesity research. In 2016, a team led by Beatriz Gálvez at the National Centre for Cardiovascular Research in Madrid, Spain, noted that the biological effects of obesity overlap substantially with those of ageing. Both are hallmarked by dysfunction of the white adipose (fat) tissue, leading to metabolic conditions, widespread inflammation and damage to multiple organs, including the kidneys, bones and those of the cardiovascular system. Impacts of obesity These effects are usually directly attributed to obesity itself. But Gálvez wondered whether the causality is more indirect: obesity leads to premature ageing, which leads to the early onset of the diseases of old age. She and her colleagues coined the term “adipaging” to capture this relationship, and proposed that “to a great extent, obese adults are prematurely aged individuals”. A couple of years later, Lorenzini and his colleagues took the idea and ran with it. They started from an influential 2013 research paper called “The hallmarks of aging”, which describes nine molecular and cellular causes of age-related diseases. Lorenzini compared these with the consequences of obesity and found strong parallels. Both obesity and ageing lead to imbalanced nutrient sensing, altered intercellular communication, disturbances in protein metabolism, dysfunction of energy-producing mitochondria in cells, and cell senescence, when cells stop dividing but remain alive. “I think that fits very well with accelerating ageing,” says Lorenzini. “For many of the chronic diseases of our time, the major factor is ageing. So, of course, if you accelerate ageing, you will accelerate everything.” That includes death: the life expectancy of people over 40 with obesity is reduced, by about six years in men and seven in women. The biological clocks of people with obesity tick fasterALDOMURILLO/GETTY IMAGES Various attempts have also been made to measure whether the biological clocks of people with obesity really do tick faster. In 2017, for example, a team largely from the University of Tampere in Finland reanalysed archived blood samples from a group of 183 people taken 25 years apart: first during the teenage years or young adulthood, then again in middle age. The participants’ body mass index (BMI) was recorded when the samples were taken, so the researchers knew which of them had become obese. As expected, those who had gained a lot of weight had aged more biologically than they had aged chronologically, some by more than 10 years. Those who had remained lean had less of a mismatch. (The team also wanted to see what had happened to the rate of ageing in people who had lost weight, but there weren’t enough people in this category to do the analysis.) A similar study in women in their 20s, 30s and 40s also found that a higher BMI was associated with an older biological age, with each rise of 1 kilogram of weight per metre of height squared adding about 1.7 months. Another discovered that increased biological age was associated with various measures of obesity – BMI, waist-to-hip ratio and waist circumference – in women aged 35 to 75. Those with a BMI of 35 or more, putting them firmly in the obese category, were on average 3.15 years biologically older than women of the same chronological age who were a healthy weight. Cause and effect None of these studies, however, proved the direction of causality. It is possible that obesity accelerates biological ageing, but also that an increase in biological age somehow leads to obesity. Last year, researchers in Beijing teased these possibilities apart. They reanalysed data on tens of thousands of people who had been enrolled in a previous study and whose BMI, waist circumference and waist-to-hip ratio had been recorded on several occasions, along with five measures of their biological age. Applying a statistical method that can indicate the direction of causality, the researchers showed that obesity causes accelerated ageing compared with people of a healthy weight, to the tune of around three years. These studies all point in the same direction, says Lorenzini. “We are moving from hypothesis to data. The data is piling up.” The latest addition to this pile comes from the lab of Correa-Burrows and her colleagues at the University of Chile. They piggybacked on a research project called the Santiago Longitudinal Study, which started in 1992 and followed around 1000 people from birth up to their late 20s, originally to study the effects of nutrition on health in children and young adults. Correa-Burrows and her team recruited 205 participants who had made it all the way through the study. They were aged between 28 and 31 and comprised three groups: those who had maintained a healthy weight throughout life, those who had been obese since adolescence and those who had been obese since early childhood. There were already masses of data on these people, including their BMI throughout the study, but Correa-Burrows also used epigenetic clocks to measure their biological age. What she found was very clear. Those in the healthy weight group had, on average, biological ages slightly lower than their chronological age. But those in both obese groups were biologically older than their chronological age. This was by an average of 4.2 years in the obese-since-adolescence group and 4.7 in the obese-since-childhood group. A few had biological ages over 40. “We were expecting to find that, but we never expected the magnitude of difference that we saw in some individuals,” says Correa-Burrows. “Some of them had a 50 per cent gap between their biological age and the chronological age, which is huge.” It is now generally accepted in geroscience circles that obesity speeds up the ageing process, she says. Accelerated ageing is also attracting the attention of researchers outside the obesity field. Premature ageing is a well-known phenomenon among adult survivors of childhood cancer, who often become frail and die early as a result of the aftereffects of their illness and treatment. They are also at a higher-than-average risk of developing an unrelated cancer in later life. That may be because they are genetically predisposed to cancer, but this can’t fully explain the elevated risk. The cancer factor Last year, Paige Green at the US National Cancer Institute in Bethesda, Maryland, had a brainwave. Cancer is typically a disease of old age, and the survivors of childhood cancer were ageing prematurely. Maybe they were more vulnerable to cancer because they were biologically older than their chronological age. And not just that: accelerated ageing in the general population might also explain the rise in early-onset cancer, heart failure and strokes. “Cancer used to just be considered a disease of ageing,” says Jennifer Guida, an independent researcher who was formerly Green’s colleague. “Now people are being diagnosed with colon cancer in their 30s, breast cancer in their 30s. Why is that? Perhaps some of the processes of ageing are acting earlier and causing ageing to accelerate, which then causes early-onset cancer.” Green, Guida and their colleague Lisa Gallicchio wrote the idea up in the journal JAMA Oncology as a challenge to others to test it. “We put it out there as a hypothesis,” says Guida. “Maybe somebody will run with it and do the work to show that this is true, or disprove it.” The way to do it would be to measure the biological ages of a large number of people already enrolled in a large-scale study and tally that with early-onset cancers, she says. In fact, a team has already done that. Last year, Ruiyi Tian at Washington University in St. Louis, Missouri, told the American Association for Cancer Research’s annual meeting in San Diego, California, that she and her colleagues had analysed blood samples from nearly 150,000 people stored in the UK Biobank, looking for signs of accelerated ageing. The participants were aged between 37 and 54 when they had their blood taken. Measuring their biological age revealed that those on the younger end of the age spectrum, who had been born after 1965, were 17 per cent more likely to show signs of accelerated ageing than the older ones, born between 1950 and 1954. The researchers also found that accelerated ageing increased the risk of early-onset cancers of the lungs, gastrointestinal tract and uterus. “Accumulating evidence suggests that the younger generations may be ageing more swiftly than anticipated,” Tian told the association’s press office at the time. (The results haven’t been published in a peer-reviewed journal and Tian and her supervisor didn’t respond to requests for further information.) The “obesogenic” environment of many industrialised nations promotes ageing, but there is promise that weight-loss drugs can reverse thisDhiraj Singh/Bloomberg via Getty Images All in all, it seems we have created a world that not only promotes obesity – known as the obesogenic environment – but also ages us. Perhaps we need a new shorthand for it. I suggest the “senesogenic environment”, derived from the Latin verb senescere (“to grow old”). So, if younger people are ageing more rapidly, what is the cause? Obesity is the main one. “We have a huge obesity problem in places that have a Western-type diet,” says Guida. Obesity rates in 5 to 19-year-olds increased 1000 per cent between 1975 and 2022, according to the World Obesity Federation, and children with obesity tend to remain obese as adults. “Obesity’s prevalence has kept rising despite governmental efforts to try to reduce the rates, and by 2030, 1 billion people in the world will be obese,” says Correa-Burrows. What drives accelerated ageing? The mechanism by which obesity leads to accelerated ageing is a bone of contention. It may be that carrying around too much fat is a direct cause, possibly because it promotes long-term inflammation. “When you have chronic inflammation, it triggers these biochemical ageing signatures,” says Correa-Burrows. Alternatively, it could be that flooding the body with excess calories causes both obesity and ageing. Lorenzini favours this hypothesis, noting that many of the pathways associated with the ageing process are involved in nutrient sensing. It is well established that switching these pathways off in animal models – using drugs or caloric restriction – activates repair processes and retards ageing. Maybe people with a high-calorie, morning-noon-and-night diet chronically stimulate the pathways, so their body never has a chance to fix the damage that leads to ageing. Obesity isn’t the only culprit, however. “Anything that increases hormones related to stress, particularly cortisol, is going to have an adverse effect in terms of your biological ageing rate,” says Correa-Burrows. “Pollution has this effect. Early childhood adversity also. Trauma.” Exposure to heatwaves has also been found to speed up biological ageing (see “Heatwaves and premature ageing“), maybe because it activates stress hormones. People are also more sedentary than they used to be, says Guida. “All these things feed into each other to create this perfect storm.” Winding back the biological clock So how can you avoid becoming old before your time? “A lot of it comes down to lifestyle change,” says Guida. “Exercise is probably the biggest thing that you can do to slow your ageing. We know caloric restriction works too, but it’s not always feasible for everybody. Sleep is a great way to promote restoration and repair. And avoiding alcohol and smoking.” Avoiding obesity through healthy eating and exercise is key for slowing down biological ageingAlexander Spatari/Alexander Spatari Down the road, drugs might also help. The type 2 diabetes medicine Ozempic, a GLP-1 receptor agonist, was recently shown to slow the rate of ageing, and another study found that this drug family is also linked to a lower risk of obesity-related cancers. But we don’t yet know enough about the long-term effects to recommend them as an anti-ageing strategy, says Correa-Burrows. The good news, however, is that even if your biological clock has outpaced your chronological clock, lifestyle changes can throw it into reverse. “There are ways to synchronise both clocks or even put your biological clock below your chronological clock,” says Correa-Burrows. “Most of the interventions are based on changes in your lifestyle: exercising and changing your diet.” OK, I get it. Time to lose some weight and get active again. I doubt I can get back to being biologically six years younger than my age. Fifty-five would suit me just fine, though. Need a listening ear? UK Samaritans 116123; US 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline 988; hotlines in other countries Heatwaves and premature ageing Accelerated ageing isn’t just caused by obesity, stress and pollution (see main story). Climate change is also making us age faster. Earlier this year, Eun Young Choi and Jennifer Ailshire at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles analysed biological age data from 3686 adults aged 56-plus across the US, and cross-referenced it against climate records going back six years. They found that people who had been exposed to more hot days were ageing more rapidly, with each 10 per cent increase in exposure adding 1.4 months to their biological age. And in August, a team led by Cui Guo at the University of Hong Kong analysed data from nearly 25,000 adults in a medical screening programme in Taiwan. The researchers estimated the participants’ biological age and tallied their exposure to heatwaves – defined as periods of abnormally hot weather lasting for more than 48 hours – in the preceding two years. They found that people with a greater cumulative exposure to heatwaves were ageing faster than those with less exposure. Each four-day increase in total heatwave exposure was associated with a rise in biological age of about nine days. Totted up over a typical lifetime, this adds up to about five months. The mechanism by which heatwaves accelerate ageing isn’t clear, according to Paul Beggs, an environmental health scientist at Macquarie University in Sydney, Australia. But we know that acute heat exposure can damage the brain, heart and kidneys, and disrupt sleep.

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