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What Happens When Animals Cross the Road

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Thursday, April 18, 2024

As highways encroach ever further into animal habitats, drivers and wildlife are in greater danger than ever. And off the beaten path, decaying old forest roads are inflicting damage as well. “Roads are this incredibly disruptive force all over the planet that are truly changing wild animals’ lives and our own lives in almost unfathomable, unaccountable ways,” says science journalist Ben Goldfarb, author of the 2023 book Crossings: How Road Ecology Is Shaping the Future of Our Planet. Goldfarb wrote about this problem for the March 2024 issue of Smithsonian. For Earth Day, we’ll talk to him about what’s being done to make the relationship between roads and lands more harmonious, and we’ll meet Fraser Shilling—a scientist at the University of California, Davis, who’ll tell us what he’s learned from his rigorous scholarly examination of … roadkill. A transcript is below. To subscribe to “There’s More to That,” and to listen to past episodes on the devastating effects of wildfires, a NASA mission to capture asteroid dust and the 2024 North American total solar eclipse, find us on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts. Chris Klimek: Fraser Shilling was out driving in California one day when he saw something unusual in the road. Fraser Shilling: There was this brown, fluffy thing, and I thought, “What is that? It’s such a strange-looking animal.” Klimek: Most people don’t have a habit of stopping to check out roadkill when they see it on the highway, but this is Fraser’s job. He actually studies roadkill. More specifically, he’s the director of the Road Ecology Center at the University of California, Davis. Shilling: I’ve done some sketchy pullovers on interstates, because if it’s a porcupine, if it’s a bear, I really want to make sure that’s what it is. Klimek: Road ecology is the study of how roads and highways impact local ecosystems. So, to Fraser, a dead animal in the road is important scientific evidence. Shilling: I think it’s a really important activity, obviously, and I have to do my part. I can’t just expect other people to collect the data. Klimek: But on this day in particular, it was a false alarm. Shilling: And I pulled over, and it was a teddy bear. Klimek: From Smithsonian magazine and PRX Productions, this is “There’s More to That,” the show that may definitively solve, right here in this episode, why a chicken would want to cross a road. This week, just in time for Earth Day and spring migration season, we’ll learn all about road ecology, what our roads are doing to our ecosystems and how we can fix it. I’m Chris Klimek.Klimek: One dead squirrel or dead deer in a road might not be that much cause for concern, but if you keep finding dead deer in the same stretch of road, then there’s obviously a problem, both for the deer and for the people that use that road. Shilling: This has happened to me. I’ve driven around a curve, you don’t have time to stop if you see something around that curve, and I had, in one stretch of Highway 12 in California, three male deer within a mile of each other. They’re just standing in or about to enter the road. Very alarming. I don’t think I would’ve died. I was probably only going 50, but it definitely would’ve been a noticeable impact on my life. But most of the animals are not a safety concern. Most of the animals that are being hit are smaller, like newts. There are places where newts are migrating across roads between where they spend their adult phase and where they’re going to reproduce. They’re just annihilated by traffic. And some areas, you think, “Well, they’ve always been doing that, so what’s the big deal?” But where it becomes a big deal is that you get fewer and fewer and fewer newts over time. Part of that is just loss from the regular traffic that’s occurring, but also, as you increase traffic, you’re increasing the number of newts that are getting killed, and, eventually, you’re going to wipe out the population. These are real-time ecological disasters, some of them. Klimek: Do people generally get it, or does it take a bit of explaining for you to say like, “No, this is actually valuable data that we can collect and learn from?” Shilling: Well, at the beginning, as you might imagine, there were people trying to be funny, ways of asking questions. I had a SiriusXM station interview, probably the weirdest media discussion about roadkill that I’ve had. But it was interesting. You’ve got these shock jocks, initially they were making fun of it, but then they started to get into it.Ben Goldfarb: There are just so many different ways in which our transportation infrastructure disrupts animal lives. Klimek: Ben Goldfarb is the author of an acclaimed book called Crossings: How Road Ecology Is Shaping the Future of Our Planet. Goldfarb: The dead deer or raccoon or squirrel we’ve all seen by the side of the road, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Roads are this incredibly disruptive force all over the planet that are truly changing wild animals’ lives and our own lives in almost unfathomable, unaccountable ways. Generally, roads are enormous sources of pollution, right? Our cars are constantly bleeding cadmium and copper and zinc and microplastics. One of the big issues that scientists have only recently discovered is that tire particles are a huge problem. I think there’s something like 6 million tons of tire particles that enter the environment every year, and they contain this chemical called 6PPD, which kills salmon in huge numbers. Another big issue is invasive species. In Oregon, there’s a fungus that actually rides in truck tire treads and gets dispersed up the road network that way and kills trees. There’s all kinds of novel agents, both chemical and biological, that are using these roads to spread through our forests. Klimek: These particularly toxic roads, are they concentrated in a few geographic areas, or are they dispersed all over? Goldfarb: I think it’s a pretty widespread problem, but road salt, which is in some ways probably the most transformative, consequential pollutant along our road networks, and obviously that’s something that we use as a de-icing chemical. So that’s really a Northern issue. I think Minnesota is the most profligate user of de-icing salt, and that’s turning all of these freshwater rivers and lakes and streams into functionally brackish estuaries. There are some cases where ocean crabs have entered these freshwater ecosystems, because that’s just how salty they’ve gotten. And then, another big issue, too, is that: Look, animals like salt. If you’ve got these salty roadsides and you’re luring all of these deer and moose and other critters to the roadside, well that’s also a huge roadkill issue. Klimek: Are there other de-icing agents available that don’t have such severe consequences for the environment? Goldfarb: Beet juice has been used in some places. It doesn’t smell great, so it hasn’t really caught on, and it’s also a little bit eerie to see bright red bloody-looking roads that are covered in beet juice. So the quest for a universally beloved, non-salt de-icer continues. Klimek: Yeah. On the beet juice note, I do use a citrus-based chain degreaser on my bicycle. It’s ground up orange peels or something that they claim is eco-friendly and as effective as any artificial chemical. So I hope that’s right. Goldfarb: Well, the fact that you’re getting around via bicycle, that’s a big win right there. So, Chris, you’re doing pretty good, man. Klimek: Is there any way in which our roads are a good thing for animals? Goldfarb: It depends who you are, right? The scavengers, for example, the turkey vultures or the coyotes that use roadkill as this resource, essentially. Or think about the Midwest, we’ve turned all of the landscape into corn and soy monoculture, and some of the only strips of native prairie vegetation remaining are those roadsides and road medians that end up being pretty good habitat for animals like monarch butterflies. Roads are ultimately ecosystems in their own right, and every ecosystem has winners and losers. Klimek: Yeah. You opened the door to this a little bit when you mentioned de-icing salt, but how do roads alter biodiversity more broadly than just animals being struck by cars? Goldfarb: I think a lot about that barrier effect. These walls of traffic that animals don’t even attempt to cross in many places. Lots of big interstate highways actually have very little roadkill, because animals never even try to cross the highway. And yet, they’re having enormous impacts on wildlife distribution. You end up, in some cases, with very inbred populations. Famously, in Southern California, there’s this cluster of mountain lions living near Los Angeles surrounded by freeways. And those animals have ended up having to mate with their own daughters and granddaughters and even great-granddaughters because they just can’t cross the highway to escape this little island of habitat, and no new animals can cross to enter the population. So even without killing animals directly, these roads are dramatically changing their lives and influencing where they can live and who they can mate with. Klimek: So, conversely, how are humans impacted by animals in the roadway? Goldfarb: Roadkill is a really dangerous event for drivers as well as for animals. There are up to 2 million large animal crashes in this country every year, most of them with white-tailed deer, and several hundred drivers die in those incidents. And road collisions with animals are costing society more than $8 billion every year, in vehicle repairs and hospital bills and tow trucks and so on. This epidemic of wildlife-vehicle collisions is a human public health and safety crisis, in a lot of ways. Klimek: Are there other ways in which animals have adapted to this influx of road construction? Goldfarb: Certainly animals have ingenious strategies for living alongside all of this infrastructure. In Chicago, there’s this very famous population of urban coyotes that looks both ways and crosses at the crosswalks. They’re very intelligent animals. There are even cases of evolution that have occurred due to road construction. There’s a very famous example in Nebraska where cliff swallows, which are those birds who build their little mud nests on highway overpasses and bridges, they’ve actually evolved over time to have shorter wings. Because if you have a long wing as a bird, that’s good for flying long, straight directions, whereas having a short wing is good for maneuverability and making lots of tight rolls and turns to avoid an 18-wheeler. The long-wing swallows have gotten weeded from the population by roadkill, and the shorter-wing swallows remain, and now the whole population is becoming less susceptible to roadkill. That’s just incredible to think about, right? That evolution is usually this process that unfolds over the course of thousands or millions of years, but roads and cars are such a powerful selective pressure that they’re literally driving evolution in a matter of decades. Klimek: Have road construction techniques evolved over the decades? Are we building them in a more eco-conscious way now or not so much? Goldfarb: It is true that roads are one of the technologies that are least amenable to disruption. One thing we’ve become much more cognizant of, and better about, is the need to build wildlife crossings: overpasses and underpasses and tunnels that allow animals to safely cross highways. And, typically, whenever there’s a big highway modification or expansion, they’ll include some wildlife crossings. We’ve got the equipment out there already—let’s just put it in a tunnel or something like that to facilitate animal movements. Klimek: And from what we’ve seen, do animals use these crossings when we build them? Do they figure out that’s a safer way to get across the eight lanes or however many there are? Goldfarb: Absolutely. Yeah, crossings are extremely effective. Typically, they reduce vehicle collisions by 90 percent or so, in part because, typically, you’ve got a crossing and then you’ve got roadside fences that funnel the animals to the crossings and allow them to safely cross the highway. So there’s lots of research showing that animals definitely use these things. And in many cases, they actually pay for themselves. Sometimes the transportation department will propose a new $5 million wildlife overpass, and everybody shakes their head about the idea of spending $5 million on helping elk cross a highway. But actually, by preventing all of these really dangerous, expensive crashes with animals and vehicles, these crossings are actually recouping their own construction costs. And that’s a big part of the reason that so many transportation departments around the country are really embracing them. Klimek: What do these crossings look like? Are they similar to what a pedestrian bridge or tunnel would be? Goldfarb: In some ways, yeah. The basic technology isn’t all that different, but you want to make them look like habitat. You want an animal to feel comfortable crossing this novel, weird structure. So typically, the overpasses especially will have shrubs and even whole trees and dirt. And one of the cool things that’s happening now in road ecology is that we’re thinking about different species. It used to be that engineers and biologists were very focused on the big animals, the deer and the elk. And now we’re also thinking, “Well, wait a second, what does a meadow vole or a snake or a lizard need to feel comfortable on these crossings?” You tend to see lots of rock piles and log jams and other little micro-habitat features that might induce an animal to run across. Klimek: Yeah. I know you mentioned deer specifically as one of the major sources of roadkill and accidents. Are there other significant categories of animals that changed their patterns as a result of these crossings being made available? Goldfarb: There are incredibly successful crossings for grizzly bears and pronghorn antelope and salamanders. There have been crossings built for this incredible diversity of species, and they’re really effective. But it’s important to really think about what different species need. For example, the difference between black bears and grizzly bears. Grizzly bears were plains animals who lived out into the prairies. That was where Lewis and Clark saw them in eastern Montana. So they like to be out in the open. They like having a big, open bridge to walk across so they can confront their enemies with their power and speed. Whereas black bears are more forest dwellers and more comfortable in tighter spaces, potentially, and they’re typically happier using smaller underpasses that a grizzly bear would probably avoid. So different species just have different requirements for these crossing structures, and that’s one of the things that road ecologists do, is to think, “OK, in this given place where we want to build one of these crossings, what are the species we have to account for, and how do we account for them in the design of this structure?” Klimek: Salamanders is not one of the species I was picturing as I was reading the excerpt from your book Crossings. So tell us more about that. How do you get a salamander to cross where you want it to cross? Goldfarb: Amphibians, even though they’re small, they’re also migratory. They travel proportionately very large distances, and they’re typically moving between their upland forest habitat, going down to their breeding ponds, and they’re often moving in large numbers on these warm, wet spring nights. The problem is that we tend to build our roads in the same low-lying areas where water collects and amphibians breed. So in many cases, you get these big squishing events of salamanders and frogs and toads and other amphibians. Again, those warm, wet spring nights in the Northeast are just the most dangerous times. Yeah, the phrase “massive squishing event” is actually in a road ecology textbook. Klimek: Oh, wow. Goldfarb: There are a number of great salamander and frog tunnels, these little narrow passages that go under roadways. You could drive over them a thousand times and never know they were there, but they do tend to work really well. Klimek: The roads we drive on every day are only one of Ben’s concerns. Ben recently wrote an article for Smithsonian magazine about roads that have fallen out of use. He says that you can’t just leave an old, decaying road to sit and expect nature to reclaim it. Goldfarb: There’s just this huge road density out there. In some places, there are more roads per square mile in national forests than there are in New York City, which is pretty hard to fathom. And those roads, even though they’re out in the middle of nowhere, they still have a big environmental impact. What my story’s about, in a lot of ways is, OK, what do we do about those impacts? If roads cause problems in these otherwise wild areas, can we eliminate those roads? And that’s what the Forest Service and its many partner organizations are doing in many cases, is getting in there with the same heavy machinery that built the roads—in some cases, the big, yellow Tonka toys—and just tearing that roadbed up and allowing nature to reclaim it. Which is really exciting. Klimek: So generally, if one wants to decommission a road safely with minimal environmental impact, how could that be done? Goldfarb: One of the challenges is that often the soil is really compacted. You’ve got 30 years of big, heavy logging trucks rolling down these dirt roads, and so all of that pressure and weight over time has really compacted the soil. So it’s super-hard for any vegetation to really effectively take root there. What firms that do road decommissioning and the Forest Service does is rip up that roadbed to loosen up the soil, and then you can replant it, and that vegetation will have a much greater chance of success. It’s funny, I visited a lot of these sites where road decommissioning was in progress, and it looks like a war zone. The earth is just ripped up everywhere, and there are saplings lying over the road that they tear up and use to cover the roads so that seedlings and wildflowers and stuff can shelter in the vegetative cover. So the whole thing looks like a tornado went through or something like that. But you come back in 20 years, and it truly looks like a forest. I visited a bunch of sites in Idaho and Montana where roads were decommissioned 20 or 30 years ago, and you truly would have no idea that a road had ever been there, if there wasn’t a scientist telling you so. So it can be pretty inspiring. Klimek: What are the barriers to this always being done in the most conscientious way? Expense? Politics? A combination of factors? Why doesn’t this always happen the way we might wish? Goldfarb: You put your finger on the two big ones. Expense and politics. The expense, the U.S. Forest Service, this giant federal agency that manages something like 190 million acres of American public land, is also the largest road manager in the world, I think. Unbeknownst to most people, the Forest Service has something like 370,000 miles of road. You get to the moon and most of the way back on Forest Service roads. In general, you’re looking at $5,000 to $15,000 per mile of decommissioned road—that tends to add up quickly. The Forest Service is also chronically a funding-challenged agency. So much of its budget goes toward fighting wildfires, and there’s often very little left over for anything else, including road decommissioning. So expense is definitely a big one. And then there’s also, oftentimes the Forest Service proposes closing some roads, and there’s a lot of uproar from locals who don’t want to see those roads taken out of commission. So it can definitely be politically contentious at times. Klimek: To back up a few decades, how did the Forest Service become the keeper of these tens of thousands of miles of road? Goldfarb: Initially, a lot of those roads were built with really good intentions. The Forest Service was created in the early 1900s, and its first generation of rangers basically said, “We have been tasked with stewarding these forests, and we need roads to do that. We need to be able to fight fires and to remove trees that have been killed by beetles and keep an eye on the elk population. We need these roads to manage this land.” That was where a lot of those early roads came from, I would say. And then in the 1950s, after World War II, there was this huge economic boom, a lot of home construction going on. And a lot of the private timber lands in America had been clear-cut already, and those national forests were the site of all of this industrial logging. And suddenly those early roads, those Forest Service roads, became the basis for this vast new network of logging roads. And in many cases, it was these private timber companies that the Forest Service was effectively paying to build logging roads on public land. And so that’s where, when we talk about forests that have higher road densities than New York City, what we’re talking about are these incredibly dense networks of logging roads. One biologist told me that you go to some forests and it looks like the loggers must have driven to every single tree, because the roads are just so thick. And it’s actually very poignant to read the journals and memoirs of some of these early Forest Service rangers, as I did, because they talk about the pain of seeing these forests that they love just totally overrun with roads that they helped facilitate. Klimek: Here’s the good news: Ben says there’s a lot of cause for optimism right now. Goldfarb: Earlier we were talking about funding being one of the primary limitations for road decommissioning. And now, there’s just a lot more funding available, really thanks to these two giant pieces of legislation passed under the Biden administration, the Bipartisan Infrastructure Act and the Inflation Reduction Act. And both of those giant laws have different pots of money embedded within them that can be used for road decommissioning. In the Infrastructure Act, there’s this thing called the Legacy Roads and Trails Program, which is, basically, $250 million for road restoration and rehabilitation. And then, in the IRA, the Inflation Reduction Act, there’s also all of this money that can be used by the Bureau of Land Management, which is the Forest Service’s sister agency, for road restoration. So there are just these big new pots of money coming online now and being distributed. And everybody I talked to for this story was just really excited about the prospects for road removal in the years ahead. Klimek: That Smithsonian story you wrote was really focused on the removal of forest roads, rural roads, but what about the freeways and roads we were discussing earlier that remain heavily used? Are there ways of reducing the environmental harm that they cause? Goldfarb: Yeah, it’s a great question. I think that one of the exciting things in that bipartisan Infrastructure Act that also has money for road removal, is that it also has $350 million for those new wildlife crossings that we were talking about. Which is easily the largest pot of money for animal passages ever put together. Historically, it’s been the Western states that have built a lot of these animal passages, but now states like Pennsylvania and South Dakota and Nebraska are getting interested. I think that in the next five to ten years, thanks to this big federal grant program, we’re going to have lots more wildlife crossings popping up all over the country. And granted, that’s not going to solve the problem of roads in nature, obviously, but hopefully it’ll at least help to alleviate some of the really negative impacts. Klimek: Smithsonian magazine contributor Ben Goldfarb is the author of Crossings: How Road Ecology Is Shaping the Future of Our Planet. This has been a really illuminating conversation, Ben. Thank you. Goldfarb: Thank you so much, Chris. Yeah, I appreciate your time and interest. Klimek: To read Goldfarb’s latest article in Smithsonian about safely decommissioning roads, and to learn more about how to report roadkill sightings to Shilling’s database at UC Davis, check out the links in our show notes.Klimek: And speaking of Shilling, we couldn’t leave you without sharing one more story from him. We like to end all of our episodes with a “dinner party fact.” This is an anecdote or piece of information to stoke the conversation at your next social gathering. And for me, well, I can’t stop thinking about what Fraser told me about the culinary aspect of his roadkill research. Hold onto your dinners, folks. Shilling: It falls a little bit into that shock jock kind of category of, “Oh, roadkill is so weird. What is that? What are you talking about?” But there’s a huge population of people that do collect and eat animals fresh off the road. I’ve done that. I’ve stopped on the side of I-5, 101, 395, and I have sliced out parts of deer from a fresh carcass and taken them home. Klimek: Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, I guess. Shilling: Steak in a grocery store or chicken, how many days ago was that thing alive? But I would bet anything that the meat I’m cutting out from inside a deer that was killed a day ago has way less bacteria on it than that steak in a supermarket. Klimek: After the New York Times published an article about his research in 2010, Fraser got an unexpected call. Shilling: A chef in San Francisco called me up and said, “Hey, I do these unique meals for wealthy people, and we want to do a really just incredible dinner made from roadkill. Can I use your system to find out where to get something?” And I thought about it and I said, “Yeah, actually,” because our reporting’s real-time. So I said, “Well, how about this?” I knew he was in San Francisco, “I’m going to look at our system, as soon as something comes in that looks like it was probably fresh, especially if there’s a photograph, I’m going to forward the location to you, and you can just zip out there and go get it.” And he did. He did exactly that, and did a meal of raccoon, which I was kind of surprised about. And rabbit, which makes more sense, based on that data collection. It was not at all legal, but definitely interesting. Klimek: “There’s More to That” is not legal advice, but it is a production of Smithsonian magazine and PRX Productions. From the magazine, our team is me, Debra Rosenberg and Brian Wolly. From PRX, our team is Jessica Miller, Genevieve Sponsler, Adriana Rozas Rivera, Ry Dorsey and Edwin Ochoa. The executive producer of PRX Productions is Jocelyn Gonzales. Our episode artwork is by Emily Lankiewicz. Fact-checking by Stephanie Abramson. Our music is from APM Music. I’m Chris Klimek. Thanks for listening. Get the latest Science stories in your inbox.

Our byways are an unnatural incursion into the natural world, especially when they’re allowed to fall into disuse. Meet a roadkill scientist and a journalist tracking how roads mess with nature—and what we can do about it

Smithmag-Podcast-S02-Ep05-Roads-article.jpg

As highways encroach ever further into animal habitats, drivers and wildlife are in greater danger than ever. And off the beaten path, decaying old forest roads are inflicting damage as well. “Roads are this incredibly disruptive force all over the planet that are truly changing wild animals’ lives and our own lives in almost unfathomable, unaccountable ways,” says science journalist Ben Goldfarb, author of the 2023 book Crossings: How Road Ecology Is Shaping the Future of Our Planet.

Goldfarb wrote about this problem for the March 2024 issue of Smithsonian. For Earth Day, we’ll talk to him about what’s being done to make the relationship between roads and lands more harmonious, and we’ll meet Fraser Shilling—a scientist at the University of California, Davis, who’ll tell us what he’s learned from his rigorous scholarly examination of … roadkill.

A transcript is below. To subscribe to “There’s More to That,” and to listen to past episodes on the devastating effects of wildfires, a NASA mission to capture asteroid dust and the 2024 North American total solar eclipse, find us on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts.


Chris Klimek: Fraser Shilling was out driving in California one day when he saw something unusual in the road.

Fraser Shilling: There was this brown, fluffy thing, and I thought, “What is that? It’s such a strange-looking animal.”

Klimek: Most people don’t have a habit of stopping to check out roadkill when they see it on the highway, but this is Fraser’s job. He actually studies roadkill. More specifically, he’s the director of the Road Ecology Center at the University of California, Davis.

Shilling: I’ve done some sketchy pullovers on interstates, because if it’s a porcupine, if it’s a bear, I really want to make sure that’s what it is.

Klimek: Road ecology is the study of how roads and highways impact local ecosystems. So, to Fraser, a dead animal in the road is important scientific evidence.

Shilling: I think it’s a really important activity, obviously, and I have to do my part. I can’t just expect other people to collect the data.

Klimek: But on this day in particular, it was a false alarm.

Shilling: And I pulled over, and it was a teddy bear.

Klimek: From Smithsonian magazine and PRX Productions, this is “There’s More to That,” the show that may definitively solve, right here in this episode, why a chicken would want to cross a road. This week, just in time for Earth Day and spring migration season, we’ll learn all about road ecology, what our roads are doing to our ecosystems and how we can fix it. I’m Chris Klimek.


Klimek: One dead squirrel or dead deer in a road might not be that much cause for concern, but if you keep finding dead deer in the same stretch of road, then there’s obviously a problem, both for the deer and for the people that use that road.

Shilling: This has happened to me. I’ve driven around a curve, you don’t have time to stop if you see something around that curve, and I had, in one stretch of Highway 12 in California, three male deer within a mile of each other. They’re just standing in or about to enter the road. Very alarming. I don’t think I would’ve died. I was probably only going 50, but it definitely would’ve been a noticeable impact on my life. But most of the animals are not a safety concern. Most of the animals that are being hit are smaller, like newts. There are places where newts are migrating across roads between where they spend their adult phase and where they’re going to reproduce. They’re just annihilated by traffic.

And some areas, you think, “Well, they’ve always been doing that, so what’s the big deal?” But where it becomes a big deal is that you get fewer and fewer and fewer newts over time. Part of that is just loss from the regular traffic that’s occurring, but also, as you increase traffic, you’re increasing the number of newts that are getting killed, and, eventually, you’re going to wipe out the population. These are real-time ecological disasters, some of them.

Klimek: Do people generally get it, or does it take a bit of explaining for you to say like, “No, this is actually valuable data that we can collect and learn from?”

Shilling: Well, at the beginning, as you might imagine, there were people trying to be funny, ways of asking questions. I had a SiriusXM station interview, probably the weirdest media discussion about roadkill that I’ve had. But it was interesting. You’ve got these shock jocks, initially they were making fun of it, but then they started to get into it.


Ben Goldfarb: There are just so many different ways in which our transportation infrastructure disrupts animal lives.

Klimek: Ben Goldfarb is the author of an acclaimed book called Crossings: How Road Ecology Is Shaping the Future of Our Planet.

Goldfarb: The dead deer or raccoon or squirrel we’ve all seen by the side of the road, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Roads are this incredibly disruptive force all over the planet that are truly changing wild animals’ lives and our own lives in almost unfathomable, unaccountable ways.

Generally, roads are enormous sources of pollution, right? Our cars are constantly bleeding cadmium and copper and zinc and microplastics. One of the big issues that scientists have only recently discovered is that tire particles are a huge problem. I think there’s something like 6 million tons of tire particles that enter the environment every year, and they contain this chemical called 6PPD, which kills salmon in huge numbers.

Another big issue is invasive species. In Oregon, there’s a fungus that actually rides in truck tire treads and gets dispersed up the road network that way and kills trees. There’s all kinds of novel agents, both chemical and biological, that are using these roads to spread through our forests.

Klimek: These particularly toxic roads, are they concentrated in a few geographic areas, or are they dispersed all over?

Goldfarb: I think it’s a pretty widespread problem, but road salt, which is in some ways probably the most transformative, consequential pollutant along our road networks, and obviously that’s something that we use as a de-icing chemical. So that’s really a Northern issue. I think Minnesota is the most profligate user of de-icing salt, and that’s turning all of these freshwater rivers and lakes and streams into functionally brackish estuaries. There are some cases where ocean crabs have entered these freshwater ecosystems, because that’s just how salty they’ve gotten.

And then, another big issue, too, is that: Look, animals like salt. If you’ve got these salty roadsides and you’re luring all of these deer and moose and other critters to the roadside, well that’s also a huge roadkill issue.

Klimek: Are there other de-icing agents available that don’t have such severe consequences for the environment?

Goldfarb: Beet juice has been used in some places. It doesn’t smell great, so it hasn’t really caught on, and it’s also a little bit eerie to see bright red bloody-looking roads that are covered in beet juice. So the quest for a universally beloved, non-salt de-icer continues.

Klimek: Yeah. On the beet juice note, I do use a citrus-based chain degreaser on my bicycle. It’s ground up orange peels or something that they claim is eco-friendly and as effective as any artificial chemical. So I hope that’s right.

Goldfarb: Well, the fact that you’re getting around via bicycle, that’s a big win right there. So, Chris, you’re doing pretty good, man.

Klimek: Is there any way in which our roads are a good thing for animals?

Goldfarb: It depends who you are, right? The scavengers, for example, the turkey vultures or the coyotes that use roadkill as this resource, essentially. Or think about the Midwest, we’ve turned all of the landscape into corn and soy monoculture, and some of the only strips of native prairie vegetation remaining are those roadsides and road medians that end up being pretty good habitat for animals like monarch butterflies. Roads are ultimately ecosystems in their own right, and every ecosystem has winners and losers.

Klimek: Yeah. You opened the door to this a little bit when you mentioned de-icing salt, but how do roads alter biodiversity more broadly than just animals being struck by cars?

Goldfarb: I think a lot about that barrier effect. These walls of traffic that animals don’t even attempt to cross in many places. Lots of big interstate highways actually have very little roadkill, because animals never even try to cross the highway. And yet, they’re having enormous impacts on wildlife distribution. You end up, in some cases, with very inbred populations. Famously, in Southern California, there’s this cluster of mountain lions living near Los Angeles surrounded by freeways. And those animals have ended up having to mate with their own daughters and granddaughters and even great-granddaughters because they just can’t cross the highway to escape this little island of habitat, and no new animals can cross to enter the population.

So even without killing animals directly, these roads are dramatically changing their lives and influencing where they can live and who they can mate with.

Klimek: So, conversely, how are humans impacted by animals in the roadway?

Goldfarb: Roadkill is a really dangerous event for drivers as well as for animals. There are up to 2 million large animal crashes in this country every year, most of them with white-tailed deer, and several hundred drivers die in those incidents. And road collisions with animals are costing society more than $8 billion every year, in vehicle repairs and hospital bills and tow trucks and so on. This epidemic of wildlife-vehicle collisions is a human public health and safety crisis, in a lot of ways.

Klimek: Are there other ways in which animals have adapted to this influx of road construction?

Goldfarb: Certainly animals have ingenious strategies for living alongside all of this infrastructure. In Chicago, there’s this very famous population of urban coyotes that looks both ways and crosses at the crosswalks. They’re very intelligent animals.

There are even cases of evolution that have occurred due to road construction. There’s a very famous example in Nebraska where cliff swallows, which are those birds who build their little mud nests on highway overpasses and bridges, they’ve actually evolved over time to have shorter wings. Because if you have a long wing as a bird, that’s good for flying long, straight directions, whereas having a short wing is good for maneuverability and making lots of tight rolls and turns to avoid an 18-wheeler. The long-wing swallows have gotten weeded from the population by roadkill, and the shorter-wing swallows remain, and now the whole population is becoming less susceptible to roadkill.

That’s just incredible to think about, right? That evolution is usually this process that unfolds over the course of thousands or millions of years, but roads and cars are such a powerful selective pressure that they’re literally driving evolution in a matter of decades.

Klimek: Have road construction techniques evolved over the decades? Are we building them in a more eco-conscious way now or not so much?

Goldfarb: It is true that roads are one of the technologies that are least amenable to disruption. One thing we’ve become much more cognizant of, and better about, is the need to build wildlife crossings: overpasses and underpasses and tunnels that allow animals to safely cross highways. And, typically, whenever there’s a big highway modification or expansion, they’ll include some wildlife crossings. We’ve got the equipment out there already—let’s just put it in a tunnel or something like that to facilitate animal movements.

Klimek: And from what we’ve seen, do animals use these crossings when we build them? Do they figure out that’s a safer way to get across the eight lanes or however many there are?

Goldfarb: Absolutely. Yeah, crossings are extremely effective. Typically, they reduce vehicle collisions by 90 percent or so, in part because, typically, you’ve got a crossing and then you’ve got roadside fences that funnel the animals to the crossings and allow them to safely cross the highway. So there’s lots of research showing that animals definitely use these things.

And in many cases, they actually pay for themselves. Sometimes the transportation department will propose a new $5 million wildlife overpass, and everybody shakes their head about the idea of spending $5 million on helping elk cross a highway. But actually, by preventing all of these really dangerous, expensive crashes with animals and vehicles, these crossings are actually recouping their own construction costs. And that’s a big part of the reason that so many transportation departments around the country are really embracing them.

Klimek: What do these crossings look like? Are they similar to what a pedestrian bridge or tunnel would be?

Goldfarb: In some ways, yeah. The basic technology isn’t all that different, but you want to make them look like habitat. You want an animal to feel comfortable crossing this novel, weird structure. So typically, the overpasses especially will have shrubs and even whole trees and dirt.

And one of the cool things that’s happening now in road ecology is that we’re thinking about different species. It used to be that engineers and biologists were very focused on the big animals, the deer and the elk. And now we’re also thinking, “Well, wait a second, what does a meadow vole or a snake or a lizard need to feel comfortable on these crossings?” You tend to see lots of rock piles and log jams and other little micro-habitat features that might induce an animal to run across.

Klimek: Yeah. I know you mentioned deer specifically as one of the major sources of roadkill and accidents. Are there other significant categories of animals that changed their patterns as a result of these crossings being made available?

Goldfarb: There are incredibly successful crossings for grizzly bears and pronghorn antelope and salamanders. There have been crossings built for this incredible diversity of species, and they’re really effective. But it’s important to really think about what different species need.

For example, the difference between black bears and grizzly bears. Grizzly bears were plains animals who lived out into the prairies. That was where Lewis and Clark saw them in eastern Montana. So they like to be out in the open. They like having a big, open bridge to walk across so they can confront their enemies with their power and speed. Whereas black bears are more forest dwellers and more comfortable in tighter spaces, potentially, and they’re typically happier using smaller underpasses that a grizzly bear would probably avoid.

So different species just have different requirements for these crossing structures, and that’s one of the things that road ecologists do, is to think, “OK, in this given place where we want to build one of these crossings, what are the species we have to account for, and how do we account for them in the design of this structure?”

Klimek: Salamanders is not one of the species I was picturing as I was reading the excerpt from your book Crossings. So tell us more about that. How do you get a salamander to cross where you want it to cross?

Goldfarb: Amphibians, even though they’re small, they’re also migratory. They travel proportionately very large distances, and they’re typically moving between their upland forest habitat, going down to their breeding ponds, and they’re often moving in large numbers on these warm, wet spring nights. The problem is that we tend to build our roads in the same low-lying areas where water collects and amphibians breed. So in many cases, you get these big squishing events of salamanders and frogs and toads and other amphibians. Again, those warm, wet spring nights in the Northeast are just the most dangerous times. Yeah, the phrase “massive squishing event” is actually in a road ecology textbook.

Klimek: Oh, wow.

Goldfarb: There are a number of great salamander and frog tunnels, these little narrow passages that go under roadways. You could drive over them a thousand times and never know they were there, but they do tend to work really well.

Klimek: The roads we drive on every day are only one of Ben’s concerns. Ben recently wrote an article for Smithsonian magazine about roads that have fallen out of use. He says that you can’t just leave an old, decaying road to sit and expect nature to reclaim it.

Goldfarb: There’s just this huge road density out there. In some places, there are more roads per square mile in national forests than there are in New York City, which is pretty hard to fathom. And those roads, even though they’re out in the middle of nowhere, they still have a big environmental impact.

What my story’s about, in a lot of ways is, OK, what do we do about those impacts? If roads cause problems in these otherwise wild areas, can we eliminate those roads? And that’s what the Forest Service and its many partner organizations are doing in many cases, is getting in there with the same heavy machinery that built the roads—in some cases, the big, yellow Tonka toys—and just tearing that roadbed up and allowing nature to reclaim it. Which is really exciting.

Klimek: So generally, if one wants to decommission a road safely with minimal environmental impact, how could that be done?

Goldfarb: One of the challenges is that often the soil is really compacted. You’ve got 30 years of big, heavy logging trucks rolling down these dirt roads, and so all of that pressure and weight over time has really compacted the soil. So it’s super-hard for any vegetation to really effectively take root there. What firms that do road decommissioning and the Forest Service does is rip up that roadbed to loosen up the soil, and then you can replant it, and that vegetation will have a much greater chance of success.

It’s funny, I visited a lot of these sites where road decommissioning was in progress, and it looks like a war zone. The earth is just ripped up everywhere, and there are saplings lying over the road that they tear up and use to cover the roads so that seedlings and wildflowers and stuff can shelter in the vegetative cover. So the whole thing looks like a tornado went through or something like that.

But you come back in 20 years, and it truly looks like a forest. I visited a bunch of sites in Idaho and Montana where roads were decommissioned 20 or 30 years ago, and you truly would have no idea that a road had ever been there, if there wasn’t a scientist telling you so. So it can be pretty inspiring.

Klimek: What are the barriers to this always being done in the most conscientious way? Expense? Politics? A combination of factors? Why doesn’t this always happen the way we might wish?

Goldfarb: You put your finger on the two big ones. Expense and politics. The expense, the U.S. Forest Service, this giant federal agency that manages something like 190 million acres of American public land, is also the largest road manager in the world, I think. Unbeknownst to most people, the Forest Service has something like 370,000 miles of road. You get to the moon and most of the way back on Forest Service roads.

In general, you’re looking at $5,000 to $15,000 per mile of decommissioned road—that tends to add up quickly. The Forest Service is also chronically a funding-challenged agency. So much of its budget goes toward fighting wildfires, and there’s often very little left over for anything else, including road decommissioning. So expense is definitely a big one.

And then there’s also, oftentimes the Forest Service proposes closing some roads, and there’s a lot of uproar from locals who don’t want to see those roads taken out of commission. So it can definitely be politically contentious at times.

Klimek: To back up a few decades, how did the Forest Service become the keeper of these tens of thousands of miles of road?

Goldfarb: Initially, a lot of those roads were built with really good intentions. The Forest Service was created in the early 1900s, and its first generation of rangers basically said, “We have been tasked with stewarding these forests, and we need roads to do that. We need to be able to fight fires and to remove trees that have been killed by beetles and keep an eye on the elk population. We need these roads to manage this land.” That was where a lot of those early roads came from, I would say.

And then in the 1950s, after World War II, there was this huge economic boom, a lot of home construction going on. And a lot of the private timber lands in America had been clear-cut already, and those national forests were the site of all of this industrial logging. And suddenly those early roads, those Forest Service roads, became the basis for this vast new network of logging roads. And in many cases, it was these private timber companies that the Forest Service was effectively paying to build logging roads on public land.

And so that’s where, when we talk about forests that have higher road densities than New York City, what we’re talking about are these incredibly dense networks of logging roads. One biologist told me that you go to some forests and it looks like the loggers must have driven to every single tree, because the roads are just so thick. And it’s actually very poignant to read the journals and memoirs of some of these early Forest Service rangers, as I did, because they talk about the pain of seeing these forests that they love just totally overrun with roads that they helped facilitate.

Klimek: Here’s the good news: Ben says there’s a lot of cause for optimism right now.

Goldfarb: Earlier we were talking about funding being one of the primary limitations for road decommissioning. And now, there’s just a lot more funding available, really thanks to these two giant pieces of legislation passed under the Biden administration, the Bipartisan Infrastructure Act and the Inflation Reduction Act. And both of those giant laws have different pots of money embedded within them that can be used for road decommissioning.

In the Infrastructure Act, there’s this thing called the Legacy Roads and Trails Program, which is, basically, $250 million for road restoration and rehabilitation. And then, in the IRA, the Inflation Reduction Act, there’s also all of this money that can be used by the Bureau of Land Management, which is the Forest Service’s sister agency, for road restoration. So there are just these big new pots of money coming online now and being distributed. And everybody I talked to for this story was just really excited about the prospects for road removal in the years ahead.

Klimek: That Smithsonian story you wrote was really focused on the removal of forest roads, rural roads, but what about the freeways and roads we were discussing earlier that remain heavily used? Are there ways of reducing the environmental harm that they cause?

Goldfarb: Yeah, it’s a great question. I think that one of the exciting things in that bipartisan Infrastructure Act that also has money for road removal, is that it also has $350 million for those new wildlife crossings that we were talking about. Which is easily the largest pot of money for animal passages ever put together. Historically, it’s been the Western states that have built a lot of these animal passages, but now states like Pennsylvania and South Dakota and Nebraska are getting interested.

I think that in the next five to ten years, thanks to this big federal grant program, we’re going to have lots more wildlife crossings popping up all over the country. And granted, that’s not going to solve the problem of roads in nature, obviously, but hopefully it’ll at least help to alleviate some of the really negative impacts.

Klimek: Smithsonian magazine contributor Ben Goldfarb is the author of Crossings: How Road Ecology Is Shaping the Future of Our Planet. This has been a really illuminating conversation, Ben. Thank you.

Goldfarb: Thank you so much, Chris. Yeah, I appreciate your time and interest.

Klimek: To read Goldfarb’s latest article in Smithsonian about safely decommissioning roads, and to learn more about how to report roadkill sightings to Shilling’s database at UC Davis, check out the links in our show notes.


Klimek: And speaking of Shilling, we couldn’t leave you without sharing one more story from him. We like to end all of our episodes with a “dinner party fact.” This is an anecdote or piece of information to stoke the conversation at your next social gathering. And for me, well, I can’t stop thinking about what Fraser told me about the culinary aspect of his roadkill research. Hold onto your dinners, folks.

Shilling: It falls a little bit into that shock jock kind of category of, “Oh, roadkill is so weird. What is that? What are you talking about?” But there’s a huge population of people that do collect and eat animals fresh off the road. I’ve done that. I’ve stopped on the side of I-5, 101, 395, and I have sliced out parts of deer from a fresh carcass and taken them home.

Klimek: Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, I guess.

Shilling: Steak in a grocery store or chicken, how many days ago was that thing alive? But I would bet anything that the meat I’m cutting out from inside a deer that was killed a day ago has way less bacteria on it than that steak in a supermarket.

Klimek: After the New York Times published an article about his research in 2010, Fraser got an unexpected call.

Shilling: A chef in San Francisco called me up and said, “Hey, I do these unique meals for wealthy people, and we want to do a really just incredible dinner made from roadkill. Can I use your system to find out where to get something?” And I thought about it and I said, “Yeah, actually,” because our reporting’s real-time. So I said, “Well, how about this?” I knew he was in San Francisco, “I’m going to look at our system, as soon as something comes in that looks like it was probably fresh, especially if there’s a photograph, I’m going to forward the location to you, and you can just zip out there and go get it.”

And he did. He did exactly that, and did a meal of raccoon, which I was kind of surprised about. And rabbit, which makes more sense, based on that data collection. It was not at all legal, but definitely interesting.

Klimek: “There’s More to That” is not legal advice, but it is a production of Smithsonian magazine and PRX Productions. From the magazine, our team is me, Debra Rosenberg and Brian Wolly. From PRX, our team is Jessica Miller, Genevieve Sponsler, Adriana Rozas Rivera, Ry Dorsey and Edwin Ochoa. The executive producer of PRX Productions is Jocelyn Gonzales. Our episode artwork is by Emily Lankiewicz. Fact-checking by Stephanie Abramson. Our music is from APM Music.

I’m Chris Klimek. Thanks for listening.

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Giant Sloths and Many Other Massive Creatures Were Once Common on Our Planet. With Environmental Changes, Such Giants Could Thrive Again

If large creatures like elephants, giraffes and bison are allowed to thrive, they could alter habitats that allow for the rise of other giants

Giant Sloths and Many Other Massive Creatures Were Once Common on Our Planet. With Environmental Changes, Such Giants Could Thrive Again If large creatures like elephants, giraffes and bison are allowed to thrive, they could alter habitats that allow for the rise of other giants Riley Black - Science Correspondent July 11, 2025 8:00 a.m. Ancient sloths lived in trees, on mountains, in deserts, in boreal forests and on open savannas. Some grew as large as elephants. Illustration by Diego Barletta The largest sloth of all time was the size of an elephant. Known to paleontologists as Eremotherium, the shaggy giant shuffled across the woodlands of the ancient Americas between 60,000 and five million years ago. Paleontologists have spent decades hotly debating why such magnificent beasts went extinct, the emerging picture involving a one-two punch of increasing human influence on the landscape and a warmer interglacial climate that began to change the world’s ecosystems. But even less understood is how our planet came to host entire communities of such immense animals during the Pleistocene. Now, a new study on the success of the sloths helps to reveal how the world of Ice Age giants came to be, and hints that an Earth brimming with enormous animals could come again. Florida Museum of Natural History paleontologist Rachel Narducci and colleagues tracked how sloths came to be such widespread and essential parts of the Pleistocene Americas and published their findings in Science this May. The researchers found that climate shifts that underwrote the spread of grasslands allowed big sloths to arise, the shaggy mammals then altering those habitats to maintain open spaces best suited to big bodies capable of moving long distances. The interactions between the animals and environment show how giants attained their massive size, and how strange it is that now our planet has fewer big animals than would otherwise be here. Earth still boasts some impressively big species. In fact, the largest animal of all time is alive right now and only evolved relatively recently. The earliest blue whale fossils date to about 1.5 million years ago, and, at 98 feet long and more than 200 tons, the whale is larger than any mammoth or dinosaur. Our planet has always boasted a greater array of small species than large ones, even during prehistoric ages thought of as synonymous with megafauna. Nevertheless, Earth’s ecosystems are still in a megafaunal lull that began at the close of the Ice Age. “I often say we are living on a downsized planet Earth,” says University of Maine paleoecologist Jacquelyn Gill.Consider what North America was like during the Pleistocene, between 11,000 years and two million ago. The landmass used to host multiple forms of mammoths, mastodons, giant ground sloths, enormous armadillos, multiple species of sabercat, huge bison, dire wolves and many more large creatures that formed ancient ecosystems unlike anything on our planet today. In addition, many familiar species such as jaguars, black bears, coyotes, white-tailed deer and golden eagles also thrived. Elsewhere in the world lived terror birds taller than an adult human, wombats the size of cars, woolly rhinos, a variety of elephants with unusual tusks and other creatures. Ecosystems capable of supporting such giants have been the norm rather than the exception for tens of millions of years. Giant sloths were among the greatest success stories among the giant-size menagerie. The herbivores evolved on South America when it was still an island continent, only moving into Central and North America as prehistoric Panama connected the landmasses about 2.7 million years ago. Some were small, like living two- and three-toed sloths, while others embodied a range of sizes all the way up to elephant-sized giants like Eremotherium and the “giant beast” Megatherium. An Eremotherium skeleton at the Houston Museum of Natural Science demonstrates just how large the creature grew. James Nielsen / Houston Chronicle via Getty Images The earliest sloths originated on South America about 35 million years ago. They were already big. Narducci and colleagues estimate that the common ancestor of all sloths was between about 150 and 770 pounds—or similar to the range of sizes seen among black bears today—and they walked on the ground. “I was surprised and thrilled” to find that sloths started off large, Narducci says, as ancestral forms of major mammal groups are often small, nocturnal creatures. The earliest sloths were already in a good position to shift with Earth’s climate and ecological changes. The uplift of the Andes Mountains in South America led to changes on the continent as more open, drier grasslands spread where there had previously been wetter woodlands and forests. While some sloths became smaller as they spent more time around and within trees, the grasslands would host the broadest diversity of sloth species. The grasslands sloths were the ones that ballooned to exceptional sizes. Earth has been shifting between warmer and wetter times, like now, and cooler and drier climates over millions of years. The chillier and more arid times are what gave sloths their size boost. During these colder spans, bigger sloths were better able to hold on to their body heat, but they also didn’t need as much water, and they were capable of traveling long distances more efficiently thanks to their size. “The cooler and drier the climate, especially after 11.6 million years ago, led to expansive grasslands, which tends to favor the evolution of increasing body mass,” Narducci says. The combination of climate shifts, mountain uplift and vegetation changes created environments where sloths could evolve into a variety of forms—including multiple times when sloths became giants again. Gill says that large body size was a “winning strategy” for herbivores. “At a certain point, megaherbivores get so large that most predators can’t touch them; they’re able to access nutrition in foods that other animals can’t really even digest thanks to gut microbes that help them digest cellulose, and being large means you’re also mobile,” Gill adds, underscoring advantages that have repeatedly pushed animals to get big time and again. The same advantages underwrote the rise of the biggest dinosaurs as well as more recent giants like the sloths and mastodons. As large sloths could travel further, suitable grassland habitats stretched from Central America to prehistoric Florida. “This is what also allowed for their passage into North America,” Narducci says. Sloths were able to follow their favored habitats between continents. If the world were to shift back toward cooler and drier conditions that assisted the spread of the grasslands that gave sloths their size boost, perhaps similar giants could evolve. The sticking point is what humans are doing to Earth’s climate, ecosystems and existing species. The diversity and number of large species alive today is vastly, and often negatively, affected by humans. A 2019 study of human influences on 362 megafauna species, on land and in the water, found that 70 percent are diminishing in number, and 59 percent are getting dangerously close to extinction. But if that relationship were to change, either through our actions or intentions, studies like the new paper on giant sloths hint that ecosystems brimming with a wealth of megafaunal species could evolve again. Big animals change the habitats where they live, which in turn tends to support more large species adapted to those environments. The giant sloths that evolved among ancient grasslands helped to keep those spaces open in tandem with other big herbivores, such as mastodons, as well as the large carnivores that preyed upon them. Paleontologists and ecologists know this from studies of how large animals such as giraffes and rhinos affect vegetation around them. Big herbivores, in particular, tend to keep habitats relatively open. Elephants and other big beasts push over trees, trample vegetation underfoot, eat vast amounts of greenery and transport seeds in their dung, disassembling vegetation while unintentionally planting the beginnings of new habitats. Such broad, open spaces were essential to the origins of the giant sloths, and so creating wide-open spaces helps spur the evolution of giants to roam such environments. For now, we are left with the fossil record of giant animals that were here so recently that some of their bones aren’t even petrified, skin and fur still clinging to some skeletons. “The grasslands they left behind are just not the same, in ways we’re really only starting to understand and appreciate,” Gill says. A 2019 study on prehistoric herbivores in Africa, for example, found that the large plant-eaters altered the water cycling, incidence of fire and vegetation of their environment in a way that has no modern equivalent and can’t just be assumed to be an ancient version of today’s savannas. The few megaherbivores still with us alter the plant life, water flow, seed dispersal and other aspects of modern environments in their own unique ways, she notes, which should be a warning to us to protect them—and the ways in which they affect our planet. If humans wish to see the origin of new magnificent giants like the ones we visit museums to see, we must change our relationship to the Earth first. Get the latest Science stories in your inbox.

How changes in California culture have influenced the evolution of wild animals in Los Angeles

A new study argues that religion, politics and war affect how animals and plants in cities evolve, and the confluence of these forces seem to be actively affecting urban wildlife in L.A.

For decades, biologists have studied how cities affect wildlife by altering food supplies, fragmenting habitats and polluting the environment. But a new global study argues that these physical factors are only part of the story. Societal factors, the researchers claim, especially those tied to religion, politics and war, also leave lasting marks on the evolutionary paths of the animals and plants that share our cities.Published in Nature Cities, the comprehensive review synthesizes evidence from cities worldwide, revealing how human conflict and cultural practices affect wildlife genetics, behavior and survival in urban environments.The paper challenges the tendency to treat the social world as separate from ecological processes. Instead, the study argues, we should consider the ways the aftershocks of religious traditions, political systems and armed conflicts can influence the genetic structure of urban wildlife populations. (Gabriella Angotti-Jones / Los Angeles Times) “Social sciences have been very far removed from life sciences for a very long time, and they haven’t been integrated,” said Elizabeth Carlen, a biologist at Washington University in St. Louis and co-lead author of the study. “We started just kind of playing around with what social and cultural processes haven’t been talked about,” eventually focusing on religion, politics and war because of their persistent yet underexamined impacts on evolutionary biology, particularly in cities, where cultural values and built environments are densely concentrated.Carlen’s own work in St. Louis examines how racial segregation and urban design, often influenced by policing strategies, affect ecological conditions and wild animals’ access to green spaces.“Crime prevention through environmental design,” she said, is one example of how these factors influence urban wildlife. “Law enforcement can request that there not be bushes … or short trees, because then they don’t have a sight line across the park.” Although that design choice may serve surveillance goals, it also limits the ability of small animals to navigate those spaces.These patterns, she emphasized, aren’t unique to St. Louis. “I’m positive that it’s happening in Los Angeles. Parks in Beverly Hills are going to look very different than parks in Compton. And part of that is based on what policing looks like in those different places.” This may very well be the case, as there is a significantly lower level of urban tree species richness in areas like Compton than in areas like Beverly Hills, according to UCLA’s Biodiversity Atlas. A coyote wanders onto the fairway, with the sprinklers turned on, as a golfer makes his way back to his cart after hitting a shot on the 16th hole of the Harding golf course at Griffith Park. (Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times) The study also examines war and its disruptions, which can have unpredictable effects on animal populations. Human evacuation from war zones can open urban habitats to wildlife, while the destruction of green spaces or contamination of soil and water can fragment ecosystems and reduce genetic diversity.In Kharkiv, Ukraine, for example, human displacement during the Russian invasion led to the return of wild boars and deer to urban parks, according to the study. In contrast, sparrows, which depend on human food waste, nearly vanished from high-rise areas.All of this, the researchers argue, underscores the need to rethink how cities are designed and managed by recognizing how religion, politics and war shape not just human communities but also the evolutionary trajectories of urban wildlife. By integrating ecological and social considerations into urban development, planners and scientists can help create cities that are more livable for people while also supporting the long-term genetic diversity and adaptability of the other species that inhabit them.This intersection of culture and biology may be playing out in cities across the globe, including Los Angeles.A study released earlier this year tracking coyotes across L.A. County found that the animals were more likely to avoid wealthier neighborhoods, not because of a lack of access or food scarcity, but possibly due to more aggressive human behavior toward them and higher rates of “removal” — including trapping and releasing elsewhere, and in some rare cases, killing them. In lower-income areas, where trapping is less common, coyotes tended to roam more freely, even though these neighborhoods often had more pollution and fewer resources that would typically support wild canines. Researchers say these patterns reflect how broader urban inequities are written directly into the movements of and risks faced by wildlife in the city.Black bears, parrots and even peacocks tell a similar story in Los Angeles. Wilson Sherman, a PhD student at UCLA who is studying human-black bear interactions, highlights how local politics and fragmented municipal governance shape not only how animals are managed but also where they appear. (Carolyn Cole / Los Angeles Times) “Sierra Madre has an ordinance requiring everyone to have bear-resistant trash cans,” Sherman noted. “Neighboring Arcadia doesn’t.” This kind of patchwork governance, Sherman said, can influence where wild animals ultimately spend their time, creating a mosaic of risk and opportunity for species whose ranges extend across multiple jurisdictions.Cultural values also play a role. Thriving populations of non-native birds, such as Amazon parrots and peacocks, illustrate how aesthetic preferences and everyday choices can significantly influence the city’s ecological makeup in lasting ways.Sherman also pointed to subtler, often overlooked influences, such as policing and surveillance infrastructure. Ideally, the California Department of Fish and Wildlife would be the first agency to respond in a “wildlife situation,” as Sherman put it. But, he said, what often ends up happening is that people default to calling the police, especially when the circumstances involve animals that some urban-dwelling humans may find threatening, like bears.Police departments typically do not possess the same expertise and ability as CDFW to manage and then relocate bears. If a bear poses a threat to human life, police policy is to kill the bear. However, protocols for responding to wildlife conflicts that are not life-threatening can vary from one community to another. And how police use non-lethal methods of deterrence — such as rubber bullets and loud noises — can shape bear behavior.Meanwhile, the growing prevalence of security cameras and motion-triggered alerts has provided residents with new forms of visibility into urban biodiversity. “That might mean that people are suddenly aware that a coyote is using their yard,” Sherman said. In turn, that could trigger a homeowner to purposefully rework the landscape of their property so as to discourage coyotes from using it. Surveillance systems, he said, are quietly reshaping both public perception and policy around who belongs in the city, and who doesn’t. A mountain lion sits in a tree after being tranquilized along San Vicente Boulevard in Brentwood on Oct. 27, 2022. (Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times) Korinna Domingo, founder and director of the Cougar Conservancy, emphasized how cougar behavior in Los Angeles is similarly shaped by decades of urban development, fragmented landscapes and the social and political choices that structure them. “Policies like freeway construction, zoning and even how communities have been historically policed or funded can affect where and how cougars move throughout L.A.,” she said. For example, these forces have prompted cougars to adapt by becoming more nocturnal, using culverts or taking riskier crossings across fragmented landscapes.Urban planning and evolutionary consequences are deeply intertwined, Domingo says. For example, mountain lion populations in the Santa Monica and Santa Ana mountains have shown signs of reduced genetic diversity due to inbreeding, an issue created not by natural processes, but by political and planning decisions — such as freeway construction and zoning decisions— that restricted their movement decades ago.Today, the Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing, is an attempt to rectify that. The massive infrastructure project is happening only, Domingo said, “because of community, scientific and political will all being aligned.”However, infrastructure alone isn’t enough. “You can have habitat connectivity all you want,” she said, but you also have to think about social tolerance. Urban planning that allows for animal movement also increases the likelihood of contact with people, pets and livestock — which means humans need to learn how to interact with wild animals in a healthier way.In L.A., coexistence strategies can look very different depending on the resources, ordinances and attitudes of each community. Although wealthier residents may have the means to build predator-proof enclosures, others lack the financial or institutional support to do the same. And some with the means simply choose not to, instead demanding lethal removal., “Wildlife management is not just about biology,” Domingo said. “It’s about values, power, and really, who’s at the table.”Wildlife management in the United States has long been informed by dominant cultural and religious worldviews, particularly those grounded in notions of human exceptionalism and control over nature. Carlen, Sherman and Domingo all brought up how these values shaped early policies that framed predators as threats to be removed rather than species to be understood or respected. In California, this worldview contributed not only to the widespread killing of wolves, bears and cougars but also to the displacement of American Indian communities whose land-based practices and beliefs conflicted with these approaches. A male peacock makes its way past Ian Choi, 21 months old, standing in front of his home on Altura Road in Arcadia. (Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times) Wildlife management in California, specifically, has long been shaped by these same forces of violence, originating in bounty campaigns not just against predators like cougars and wolves but also against American Indian peoples. These intertwined legacies of removal, extermination and land seizure continue to influence how certain animals and communities are perceived and treated today.For Alan Salazar, a tribal elder with the Fernandeño Tataviam Band of Mission Indians, those legacies run deep. “What happened to native peoples happened to our large predators in California,” he said. “Happened to our plant relatives.” Reflecting on the genocide of Indigenous Californians and the coordinated extermination of grizzly bears, wolves and mountain lions, Salazar sees a clear parallel.“There were three parts to our world — the humans, the animals and the plants,” he explained. “We were all connected. We respected all of them.” Salazar explains that his people’s relationship with the land, animals and plants is itself a form of religion, one grounded in ceremony, reciprocity and deep respect. Salazar said his ancestors lived in harmony with mountain lions for over 10,000 years, not by eliminating them but by learning from them. Other predators — cougars, bears, coyotes and wolves — were also considered teachers, honored through ceremony and studied for their power and intelligence. “Maybe we had a better plan on how to live with mountain lions, wolves and bears,” he said. “Maybe you should look at tribal knowledge.”He views the Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing — for which he is a Native American consultant — as a cultural opportunity. “It’s not just for mountain lions,” he said. “It’s for all animals. And that’s why I wanted to be involved.” He believes the project has already helped raise awareness and shift perceptions about coexistence and planning, and hopes that it will help native plants, animals and peoples.As L.A. continues to grapple with the future of wildlife in its neighborhoods, canyons and corridors, Salazar and others argue that it is an opportunity to rethink the cultural frameworks, governance systems and historical injustices that have long shaped human-animal relations in the city. Whether through policy reform, neighborhood education or sacred ceremony, residents need reminders that evolutionary futures are being shaped not only in forests and preserves but right here, across freeways, backyards and local council meetings. The Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing under construction over the 101 Freeway near Liberty Canyon Road in Agoura Hills on July 12, 2024. (Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times) The research makes clear that wildlife is not simply adapting to urban environments in isolation; it is adapting to a range of factors, including policing, architecture and neighborhood design. Carlen believes this opens a crucial frontier for interdisciplinary research, especially in cities like Los Angeles, where uneven geographies, biodiversity and political decisions intersect daily. “I think there’s a lot of injustice in cities that are happening to both humans and wildlife,” she said. “And I think the potential is out there for justice to be brought to both of those things.”

Something Strange Is Happening to Tomatoes Growing on the Galápagos Islands

Scientists say wild tomato plants on the archipelago's western islands are experiencing "reverse evolution" and reverting back to ancestral traits

Something Strange Is Happening to Tomatoes Growing on the Galápagos Islands Scientists say wild tomato plants on the archipelago’s western islands are experiencing “reverse evolution” and reverting back to ancestral traits Sarah Kuta - Daily Correspondent July 9, 2025 4:29 p.m. Scientists are investigating the production of ancestral alkaloids by tomatoes in the Galápagos Islands. Adam Jozwiak / University of California, Riverside Some tomatoes growing on the Galápagos Islands appear to be going back in time by producing the same toxins their ancestors did millions of years ago. Scientists describe this development—a controversial process known as “reverse evolution”—in a June 18 paper published in the journal Nature Communications. Tomatoes are nightshades, a group of plants that also includes eggplants, potatoes and peppers. Nightshades, also known as Solanaceae, produce bitter compounds called alkaloids, which help fend off hungry bugs, animals and fungi. When plants produce alkaloids in high concentrations, they can sicken the humans who eat them. To better understand alkaloid synthesis, researchers traveled to the Galápagos Islands, the volcanic chain roughly 600 miles off the coast of mainland Ecuador made famous by British naturalist Charles Darwin. They gathered and studied more than 30 wild tomato plants growing in different places on various islands. The Galápagos tomatoes are the descendents of plants from South America that were probably carried to the archipelago by birds. The team’s analyses revealed that the tomatoes growing on the eastern islands were behaving as expected, by producing alkaloids that are similar to those found in modern, cultivated varieties. But those growing on the western islands, they found, were creating alkaloids that were more closely related to those produced by eggplants millions of years ago. Tomatoes growing on the western islands (shown here) are producing ancestral alkaloids.  Adam Jozwiak / University of California, Riverside Researchers suspect the environment may be responsible for the plants’ unexpected return to ancestral alkaloids. The western islands are much younger than the eastern islands, so the soil is less developed and the landscape is more barren. To survive in these harsh conditions, perhaps it was advantageous for the tomato plants to revert back to older alkaloids, the researchers posit. “The plants may be responding to an environment that more closely resembles what their ancestors faced,” says lead author Adam Jozwiak, a biochemist at the University of California, Riverside, to BBC Wildlife’s Beki Hooper. However, for now, this is just a theory. Scientists say they need to conduct more research to understand why tomato plants on the western islands have adapted this way. Scientists were able to uncover the underlying molecular mechanisms at play: Four amino acids in a single enzyme appear to be responsible for the reversion back to the ancestral alkaloids, they found. They also used evolutionary modeling to confirm the direction of the adaptation—that is, that the tomatoes on the western islands had indeed returned to an earlier, ancestral state. Among evolutionary biologists, “reverse evolution” is somewhat contentious. The commonly held belief is that evolution marches forward, not backward. It’s also difficult to prove an organism has reverted back to an older trait through the same genetic pathways. But, with the new study, researchers say they’ve done exactly that. “Some people don’t believe in this,” says Jozwiak in a statement. “But the genetic and chemical evidence points to a return to an ancestral state. The mechanism is there. It happened.” So, if “reverse evolution” happened in wild tomatoes, could something similar happen in humans? In theory, yes, but it would take a long time, Jozwiak says. “If environmental conditions shifted dramatically over long timescales, it’s possible that traits from our distant past could re-emerge, but whether that ever happens is highly uncertain,” Jozwiak tells Newsweek’s Daniella Gray. “It’s speculative and would take millions of years, if at all.” Get the latest stories in your inbox every weekday.

Lifesize herd of puppet animals begins climate action journey from Africa to Arctic Circle

The Herds project from the team behind Little Amal will travel 20,000km taking its message on environmental crisis across the worldHundreds of life-size animal puppets have begun a 20,000km (12,400 mile) journey from central Africa to the Arctic Circle as part of an ambitious project created by the team behind Little Amal, the giant puppet of a Syrian girl that travelled across the world.The public art initiative called The Herds, which has already visited Kinshasa and Lagos, will travel to 20 cities over four months to raise awareness of the climate crisis. Continue reading...

Hundreds of life-size animal puppets have begun a 20,000km (12,400 mile) journey from central Africa to the Arctic Circle as part of an ambitious project created by the team behind Little Amal, the giant puppet of a Syrian girl that travelled across the world.The public art initiative called The Herds, which has already visited Kinshasa and Lagos, will travel to 20 cities over four months to raise awareness of the climate crisis.It is the second major project from The Walk Productions, which introduced Little Amal, a 12-foot puppet, to the world in Gaziantep, near the Turkey-Syria border, in 2021. The award-winning project, co-founded by the Palestinian playwright and director Amir Nizar Zuabi, reached 2 million people in 17 countries as she travelled from Turkey to the UK.The Herds’ journey began in Kinshasa’s Botanical Gardens on 10 April, kicking off four days of events. It moved on to Lagos, Nigeria, the following week, where up to 5,000 people attended events performed by more than 60 puppeteers.On Friday the streets of Dakar in Senegal will be filled with more than 40 puppet zebras, wildebeest, monkeys, giraffes and baboons as they run through Médina, one of the busiest neighbourhoods, where they will encounter a creation by Fabrice Monteiro, a Belgium-born artist who lives in Senegal, and is known for his large-scale sculptures. On Saturday the puppets will be part of an event in the fishing village of Ngor.The Herds’ 20,000km journey began in Kinshasa, the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Photograph: Berclaire/walk productionsThe first set of animal puppets was created by Ukwanda Puppetry and Designs Art Collective in Cape Town using recycled materials, but in each location local volunteers are taught how to make their own animals using prototypes provided by Ukwanda. The project has already attracted huge interest from people keen to get involved. In Dakar more than 300 artists applied for 80 roles as artists and puppet guides. About 2,000 people will be trained to make the puppets over the duration of the project.“The idea is that we’re migrating with an ever-evolving, growing group of animals,” Zuabi told the Guardian last year.Zuabi has spoken of The Herds as a continuation of Little Amal’s journey, which was inspired by refugees, who often cite climate disaster as a trigger for forced migration. The Herds will put the environmental emergency centre stage, and will encourage communities to launch their own events to discuss the significance of the project and get involved in climate activism.The puppets are created with recycled materials and local volunteers are taught how to make them in each location. Photograph: Ant Strack“The idea is to put in front of people that there is an emergency – not with scientific facts, but with emotions,” said The Herds’ Senegal producer, Sarah Desbois.She expects thousands of people to view the four events being staged over the weekend. “We don’t have a tradition of puppetry in Senegal. As soon as the project started, when people were shown pictures of the puppets, they were going crazy.”Little Amal, the puppet of a Syrian girl that has become a symbol of human rights, in Santiago, Chile on 3 January. Photograph: Anadolu/Getty ImagesGrowing as it moves, The Herds will make its way from Dakar to Morocco, then into Europe, including London and Paris, arriving in the Arctic Circle in early August.

Dead, sick pelicans turning up along Oregon coast

So far, no signs of bird flu but wildlife officials continue to test the birds.

Sick and dead pelicans are turning up on Oregon’s coast and state wildlife officials say they don’t yet know why. The Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife says it has collected several dead brown pelican carcasses for testing. Lab results from two pelicans found in Newport have come back negative for highly pathogenic avian influenza, also known as bird flu, the agency said. Avian influenza was detected in Oregon last fall and earlier this year in both domestic animals and wildlife – but not brown pelicans. Additional test results are pending to determine if another disease or domoic acid toxicity caused by harmful algal blooms may be involved, officials said. In recent months, domoic acid toxicity has sickened or killed dozens of brown pelicans and numerous other wildlife in California. The sport harvest for razor clams is currently closed in Oregon – from Cascade Head to the California border – due to high levels of domoic acid detected last fall.Brown pelicans – easily recognized by their large size, massive bill and brownish plumage – breed in Southern California and migrate north along the Oregon coast in spring. Younger birds sometimes rest on the journey and may just be tired, not sick, officials said. If you find a sick, resting or dead pelican, leave it alone and keep dogs leashed and away from wildlife. State wildlife biologists along the coast are aware of the situation and the public doesn’t need to report sick, resting or dead pelicans. — Gosia Wozniacka covers environmental justice, climate change, the clean energy transition and other environmental issues. Reach her at gwozniacka@oregonian.com or 971-421-3154.Our journalism needs your support. Subscribe today to OregonLive.com.

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