One year on from the first-ever collisions of oxygen at the Large Hadron Collider (LHC), the main LHC Collaborations – ALICE, ATLAS, CMS and LHCb – have each reported signs of the state of matter known as quark–gluon plasma (QGP) originating from these collisions.

QGP is a state of matter that forms under intense pressure and at temperatures over 100 000 times hotter than the centre of the Sun. Under these extreme conditions, composite particles break down into quarks and the gluons that ordinarily hold them together. Scientists believe that this was the state of the Universe in the first millionths of a second after the Big Bang...

It was previously thought that colliding heavy ions such as lead – which is over 200 times heavier than the protons typically collided at the LHC – was the only way to create the conditions necessary to form QGP. But recently this premise has been thoroughly challenged, including earlier this year when the ALICE Collaboration, which specialises in the study of this extreme state of matter, reported a new sign of QGP from proton–proton and proton–lead collisions. And last year, the LHC Collaborations opened up a new probe of QGP when they found the first hints of QGP from oxygen–oxygen collisions. Now, having searched even more deeply, the LHC experiments have seen multiple signs of QGP formation in oxygen–oxygen and neon–neon collisions...

Banner image: Dorymyrmex ants clean workers of a different ant species. Image by Moffet, 2026 (CC BY 4.0).

Unusual ant interaction hints at mutualistic ‘cleaning’ system

Some coral reef ecosystems famously have “cleaning stations,” where fish line up to be cleaned by other species of fish and shrimp. Entomologist Mark Moffet recently published observations of what appears to be a similar relationship in ants.

In the Chiricahua Mountains of the U.S. state of Arizona, Moffet, from the National Museum of Natural History, was watching harvester ants (Pogonomyrmex barbatus) collecting seeds when he noticed something odd. He saw several harvester ant workers frozen in place. When he zoomed in with his camera, Moffet saw the harvester ants covered with cone ants (Dorymyrmex spp.).

At first Moffet assumed he was seeing aggression between the species. On closer inspection however, he observed that the small cone ants were licking and nibbling the larger harvester ant workers, not fighting with them. Moffet observed the cone ants inspecting the harvester ants’ open mandibles, which could easily crush the smaller cone ants.

Moffet observed at least 90 individual harvester ant workers being tended this way and concluded that they might be getting cleaned by the cone ants. He even watched harvester ants approach the nests of cone ants and wait for cone ants to attend to them, which reminded him of reef fish lining up for a cleaning by cleaner fish species.

The big question is: What is each species getting out of the arrangement? Moffet consulted colleagues and came up with several possible explanations. Perhaps the ants exchange microbes, which create a healthier microbiome for both species. Or maybe they swap pheromones, to keep harvester ants from attacking cone ants later on. Maybe the cone ants impart an antifungal substance they’re known to produce.

Another possibility is that the cone ants get a free meal. “The Pogonomyrmex are called ‘harvester ants’ because they harvest seeds and store them in underground larders,” Moffet told Mongabay by email. “Seeds are high in calories and a carbohydrate-rich dust from them are likely all over the ant’s body surfaces — an energy rich snack that would be invisible to the eye.”

In return for that snack, the cone ants may be helping the harvester ants stay free from disease by eating seed dust that could potentially contain harmful microbes.

The cleaner ant system might be an example of mutualism — a symbiotic relationship that benefits both species — but this hypothesis needs more research. “I want to go back and take a further look. But proving that this is a mutualism would take quite a bit of time — what we need is an interested PhD student!” Moffet wrote.

Daniel Kronauer, an ant biologist at Rockefeller University in the U.S., who wasn’t involved with the cleaner ant research, told The New York Times that “It’s a pretty unique observation” that could lead to new directions in research.

Why these toads are evolving faster than anyone expected

An invasive cane toad (Rhinella marina) is measured in Australia. (Chris Barlow / Macquarie University via SWNS)

By Stephen Beech

Cane toads have leapt ahead of evolution theories by growing bigger and changing more rapidly than expected, according to new research.

The invasive species has bulged in size since being introduced into Japan less than 50 years ago, reveals the study.

Scientists say their findings suggest environmental pressures can drive rapid biological change.

The study comparing invasive cane toads in Japan and Australia found "substantial" changes in body size and shape have developed much more rapidly than suggested by long-held ideas of the pace of evolution.

Researchers measured and weighed wild-caught cane toads on Ishigaki Island in southern Japan and compared them to toads measured in Australia, Hawaii and South America.

A large cane toad outside. (Photo by Flávio Santos via Pexels)

The most striking difference was in body size with adult toads from Ishigaki weighing an average 190 grams (0.4 lbs) compared to 135g (0.3 lbs) for toads from Australia, while their average length was 122 millimeters (4.8 inches) compared to 111mm (4.3 ins).

The findings, published in the journal Royal Society Open Science, also showed that Ishigaki toads had wider heads, shorter arms and longer legs than toads from other locations.

Cane toads have spread to more than 40 countries worldwide from their ancestral habitat in north-eastern South America.

They first spread to Puerto Rico and then to Hawaii and from there to Australia in the 1930s.

The toads of Ishigaki were introduced from Hawaii, via Taiwan and the Daito Islands, in 1978.

Senior researcher Rick Shine said: "Given these populations of toads in Japan and Australia shared a common history in Hawaii until the 1930s, these differences in size and body shape have developed in less than 100 years.

"The idea that evolutionary change happens at a glacially slow pace is being challenged by recent evidence showing rapid changes in species confronted with novel challenges, like being translocated to a different habitat."

The study didn't collect sufficient data to allow researchers — from Macquarie University and the University of Sydney in Australia plus Kyoto University in Japan — to test alternative theories about what might be driving the changes in body size.

But the research team speculated that the larger body sizes of Ishigaki toads could reflect favorable climatic conditions, particularly year-round rainfall or the impact of lower pressure from predators on the island.

Shine, an evolutionary biologist and ecologist at Macquarie University in Sydney, added: "We don't have a clear idea of the evolutionary forces that might be involved, so we can't say why body mass and shape has changed among the toads in the Japanese system."

Some rays flash decoy eyes while others never do, as evolution's hidden trade-off comes into focus

Pacific Starry Skate. Credit: Andy Murch.

From butterflies to peacocks, bold circular "eyespots" are among nature's most eye-catching patterns. But why do they appear in some animals and not others? A new study of skates and rays finally provides an answer—and it lies in the full range of defenses an animal has at its disposal.

In a study examining more than 580 species—over 90% of all known skates and rays—researchers from Stockholm University have mapped the evolutionary history of conspicuous markings across this ancient group of cartilaginous fishes.

By analyzing multiple anti-predator defenses together, rather than studying eyespots in isolation, they were able to explain why such dramatic visual signals appear in some groups but are completely absent in others. The work has been published in Nature Ecology & Evolution.

"Our results show that you have to look at the full range of options for avoiding predators. Eyespots evolve only under certain ecological and defensive conditions. They are one solution among many in the evolutionary arms race between predator and prey," says lead author Madicken Åkerman.

Mediterranean Rough Skate. Credit: Andy Murch

Rasptail Skate. Credit: Andy Murch.

Different species, different toolkits

Skates and rays face a wide range of predators, including sharks, marine mammals and large fish. Some species defend themselves with powerful electric organs or venomous spines. Others rely more heavily on camouflage, burying themselves in sand on the ocean floor.

The researchers found that species equipped with such robust defenses rarely evolved conspicuous markings. In contrast, smaller-bodied species without those weapons were much more likely to develop bold spots or eyespots—particularly if they lived in well-lit, shallow waters less than 200 meters deep.

"Eyespots are far from random. They tend to evolve in species that lack strong physical defenses, such as venomous tail stings or electric shocks, and that live in bright, shallow waters where visual signals are effective," says senior author John Fitzpatrick.

John Fitzpatrick at Stockholm University. Credit: Anette Gärdeklint Sylla/Stockholm University

"Evolution seems to favor different defensive toolkits. If you already have a strong mechanical or electrical defense, you don't also need a visual warning signal," says Madicken Åkerman.

A stepwise process

The study also uncovered a surprising evolutionary pattern: eyespots almost never evolved directly. Instead, species typically first gained simpler markings—such as bold spots—which were later refined into the classic concentric-ring eyespots seen in some skates. In evolutionary terms, gaining simple markings was about 100 times more likely than gaining eyespots outright.

"It appears to be a stepwise process. Other markings come first, and over time they refine into eyespots," says John Fitzpatrick.

Yet conspicuous markings are also frequently lost. This makes sense when considering the trade-off at play. In deep, dark waters where little light penetrates, a visual signal cannot be seen—and therefore offers no protection. Under those conditions, the cost of being conspicuous outweighs the benefit—and the markings disappear.

Banner image: Lilac-breasted roller in Etosha National Park, Namibia. Image courtesy of Giles Laurent via Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 4.0.

How Namibia's bird conservation projects build community resilience (commentary)

• Droughts and land degradation often erode communities’ social bonds, but in the Karas region of Namibia, bird conservation initiatives have become a rallying point.
• Women and youth are at the forefront of these initiatives, which has inspired confidence among peers and shown that conservation is not the domain of scientists alone, but also a practice of everyday community resilience.
• “It is time for policymakers, NGOs, and donors to support these initiatives not just as biodiversity projects, but as investments in community well-being,” a new op-ed argues.
• This article is a commentary. The views expressed are those of the author, not necessarily of Mongabay.

In Namibia’s Karas Region, birds are more than symbols of freedom or beauty — they are teachers of resilience. Their survival in arid landscapes mirrors the endurance of the communities who live alongside them. Grassroots bird conservation projects here have revealed something profound: protecting birds can also strengthen families, nurture hope, and build social cohesion.

Across villages in Karas, parents and children tend habitats together, restoring nesting sites and planting native vegetation. These acts of care are not only ecological interventions; they are lessons in patience and problem solving. When a child sees a weaverbird return to a reed bed that the community has protected, it is a moment of triumph that teaches perseverance in the face of environmental challenges.

Women and youth are at the forefront of these initiatives. In one community, a group of young women organized bird walks for schoolchildren, teaching them to identify species like the sociable weaver and the pale chanting goshawk. Their leadership has inspired confidence among peers and shown that conservation is not the domain of scientists alone — it is a practice of everyday resilience.

Sociable weavers nesting in acacia trees, Karas Region, Namibia. Image courtesy of Martha Karas.

These projects also counter the isolation that environmental stress can bring. Droughts and land degradation often erode social bonds, but bird conservation has become a rallying point. Families gather to monitor nesting sites, share stories, and celebrate small victories. In doing so, they weave resilience into the social fabric. Conservation here is not only about biodiversity; it is about belonging.

The ecological benefits are clear. Protecting bird habitats safeguards pollination, seed dispersal, and pest control — services that sustain agriculture and livelihoods. But equally important is the emotional strength these projects cultivate. In Karas, conservation has become a human resilience strategy: a way to confront uncertainty with collective action and hope.

This perspective challenges the conventional view of conservation as a technical exercise. Too often, policies focus narrowly on species counts or protected areas. While these metrics matter, they overlook the lived experience of communities who find strength in caring for nature. By recognizing conservation as both ecological and social, we broaden its value and deepen its impact.

Lappet-faced vultures like this are native to the arid plains of the Karas Region, and organizations like Vultures Namibia ensure there’s awareness of them. Image courtesy of Martha Karas.

The lesson from Karas is urgent. As climate change intensifies, resilience will be as critical as resources. Grassroots bird projects show that resilience can be cultivated through simple, shared acts of care. They remind us that conservation is not only about saving species, but about sustaining the human spirit.

It is time for policymakers, NGOs, and donors to support these initiatives not just as biodiversity projects, but as investments in community well-being. Funding should prioritize programs that empower women and youth, foster intergenerational learning, and strengthen social bonds through conservation.

Birds in Namibia’s Karas Region are survivors of harsh landscapes. But they are also mentors of resilience, teaching us how to endure, adapt, and thrive together. By listening to the voices of those who lead grassroots efforts, we can reimagine conservation as a strategy for human strength as much as ecological survival.

Supporting these projects is not charity — it is foresight. In every nest protected, in every child inspired, we see the seeds of resilience that will carry communities through the challenges ahead.

Conservation, at its best, is a story of hope. And in Karas, that story is being written by birds and the people who care for them.

Martha Karas is a Namibian writer based in the Karas region.

If you are ever confronted by a toad, you soon see why there is little chance of confusing it with its froggy cousin.

I realised this after discovering a glorious, warty specimen settled on damp concrete in the garage one autumn. It was not only its copper-coloured eyes, squat boxer face and bumpy, waterproof skin — allowing it to survive away from water for longer — but its size that impressed. Wild toads can live for more than a decade; this creature may have been as old as my son.

After some deliberation (and Googling) I moved my toad to a pile of logs and fallen leaves near the pond. It was silent as I transported it, in gloved hands to protect its skin from mine, which meant it must have been a female: only male toads squeak when picked up.

Sadly, a report recently found that the chance to perform a toad relocation may become rarer than ever. Led by Dr Silviu Petrovan of the University of Cambridge in collaboration with the charity Froglife last October, it used one of the biggest data-sets ever gathered for amphibian population trends; between 1986 and 2021, a dedicated team of volunteers counted migrating toads during the spring breeding season. The findings were sobering: over the past 40 years, the UK population has declined by nearly half. The common toad (Bufu bufo), now reassessed as ‘near threatened’ in England and Scotland, may soon need a new name.

'In 2025, 275 active patrols helped almost 135,000 toads complete their lust-driven journey to reproduce'

(Image credit: Getty Images/Westend61)

One of two species native to Britain, the common toad has a place in our culture not enjoyed by the natterjack, whose home on sandy coasts and modest population has meant few of us will ever encounter one. The common toad, however, has had a near-ubiquitous presence in Britain since the last Ice Age: a study of frog and toad bones at Repton in Derbyshire found evidence of local populations as far back as the 8th century. The excavation concluded there was a toad boom in the 14th century, which might explain why the creature begins then to creep from folklore into literature.

From magic and medicine to myth, toads have been linked always to the suspicious and powerful: a toad is the first ingredient Shakespeare’s witches drop into their cauldron in Macbeth, the 15th-century Scottish poet Robert Henryson makes his toad treacherous and Milton’s Paradise Lost has Satan himself choosing to inhabit one for his disguise.

As with all folklore, there is confusion: what is bad is also powerful and power is something people try to harness. Across medieval Europe, women were advised that a toad effigy clamped between the knees during childbirth could ease labour pains. Meanwhile, toads were thought to carry a jewel in their heads that changed colour to warn of poison and protect against evil — or, as Shakespeare wrote in As You Like It, the toad was ‘ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head’.

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These ‘toad-stones’, mentioned since the Middle Ages, became especially popular between the 14th and 17th centuries. They were, in fact, often fossilised fish teeth, but that did not stop people believing the proper way to extract one was to sit a toad on a red cloth until it belched the stone up, to be caught and set into a ring or amulet for luck.

'Frequently one comes upon shapeless masses of 10 or 20 toads rolling over and over, one clinging to another without distinction of sex'

Two toads, inspiring enough for George Orwell.

(Image credit: Getty Images/Stephan Gehrlein/500px)

Modern literature has given the poor old toad a gentler reputation. In his superb 1946 essay Some Thoughts on the Common Toad, George Orwell describes the creature after hibernation as having ‘a very spiritual look, like a strict Anglo-Catholic towards the end of Lent’. The essay credits the toad — not the cuckoo — as the herald of spring. His description of toad copulation brings to mind a particularly lively urban Saturday night, with the creature entering ‘a phase of intense sexiness. All he knows, at least if he is a male toad, is that he wants to get his arms round something and if you offer him a stick, or even your finger, he will cling to it with surprising strength and take a long time to discover that it is not a female toad. Frequently one comes upon shapeless masses of 10 or 20 toads rolling over and over, one clinging to another without distinction of sex’.

My own re-homed toad did not hop into her new refuge, but crawled, stretching her limbs across the leaves like an aged yogi. The glands in her bumpy skin contain toxins that deter predators, meaning that, unlike the frog, she can stroll away from trouble rather than leap. I never saw her again, nor any sign of the alien-like double-rowed strings of eggs she might have left clinging in the pond. Around St Valentine’s Day, amorous toads leave hibernation and begin their migration to ancestral breeding ponds, sometimes many hundreds of feet away. Most return to the very pond of their birth, using chemical signals and magnetic orientation to find their way — regardless of whether a new A-road now crosses their route. The long, jelly-like strings of eggs hatch within days. It takes two or three months for a tadpole to become an inch-long toadlet, which must then brave cars and predators as it leaves the water to find new ground for feeding and hibernation.

Toads return to the same ponds, which means when those ponds are drained or built over it breaks a link that is both ancient and ecological. Although a toad’s skin may look tough enough for a witch’s cauldron, it is porous. Agricultural pesticides seep through it, poisoning the animal, at the same time as killing off its food sources, such as spiders, beetles, worms and slugs. The creatures that prey on pesticide-poisoned toads are also affected, hedgehogs and otters among them, which often skin the toad inside out to avoid its toxic glands. Climate change, too, plays its part. Last year saw the driest spring in more than a century, disrupting hibernation and the availability of a toad’s choice of food, and milder winters cause toads to wake too soon, losing body condition and producing fewer eggs.

Why should we care about the much-maligned toad, apart from the fact that a world with one hiding in your garage is richer than a world without? The answer lies in the natural cycle. As with birds and insects, the decline of once-common species sends ripples along the food chain. As Froglife’s report notes: ‘It is not extinction, but the population decline of abundant species that will have the most serious ecological consequences. Abundant species tether food webs, account for much of the interaction diversity in a given community, and carry out ecosystem services’.

There is some good news. Froglife reports that, although toad populations crashed by 68% per cent between 1985 and 2013, efforts in the past eight years have brought ‘regional recoveries’, reducing the total decline to under half. Much of this is thanks to the Toad Patrols — volunteers who literally carry toads across roads by the bucketful. In 2025, 275 active patrols helped almost 135,000 toads complete their lust-driven journey to reproduce.

'It would be a shameful thing to have created a landscape that in only 40 years manages to kill off a creature that has survived 400 million, through the extinction of the dinosaurs to the Industrial Revolution'

It takes two or three months for a tadpole to become an inch-long toadlet, which must then brave cars and predators as it leaves the water to find new ground for feeding and hibernation.

(Image credit: Getty Images/Naturfoto Honal)

Community-led action can sound worthy, but futile. In fact, there is precedent in the revival of another creature once commonly squashed on tarmac: the hedgehog. As rural populations continue to fall, urban hedgehogs are making a comeback. The excellently named HogWatch project has seen dramatic rises in hedgehog populations in Highgate Wood, north London, in only eight years, thanks solely to citizen action. In October 2024, the National Hedgehog Conservation Strategy—launched by the People’s Trust for Endangered Species and the British Hedgehog Preservation Society — became the world’s first of its kind, providing a frame-work for NGOs, government, landowners and communities. The Hedgehog Street campaign has already recruited more than 100,000 ‘hedgehog champions’.

Are toads the new hedgehogs? Let’s hope so. It would be a shameful thing to have created a landscape that in only 40 years manages to kill off a creature that has survived 400 million, through the extinction of the dinosaurs to the Industrial Revolution.

In the meantime, anyone with a garden can help. Despite not being able to build amphibian tunnels for commuting juveniles, Jenny Tse-Leon, head of conservation and Impact at Froglife, says that ‘the restoration and creation of more and better-connected ponds and habitats such as woodlands and grasslands are essential to their survival’. No matter the size of your garden, a small pond, log pile, stones or even an upturned flowerpot can become a summer refuge and a winter hibernaculum.

One day, perhaps, the sight of a toad making its slow, dignified way through the garden may become as common as it once was — and our children, too, might move one from a garage to a bed of leaves and see for themselves why these characterful creatures have long been woven into the fabric of British culture.

The River Otter's Remarkable Comeback

The first sign isn’t the otter itself. It’s the ripple – small, nearly invisible – spreading across the marsh. Then a blur of brown breaks the morning water’s silver surface. A head lifts, whiskers dripping, eyes alert. For a second, it lingers. Then it’s gone again, leaving only widening rings.

Not long ago, this scene, in this place, would have been impossible. In the 1980s, the chances of spotting a river otter anywhere along much of the Great Lakes shoreline were close to zero. Pollution, trapping, habitat loss – together they’d driven otters out. What remained were faded accounts, the odd specimen in a museum, a memory. Their return isn’t just welcome. It’s a sign the lakes themselves are healing.

The Great Lakes. Credit: Philroc/Wikimedia Commons.

A freshwater giant

North America's Great Lakes – Superior, Michigan, Huron, Erie and Ontario – form the world’s largest group of freshwater lakes. Together, they hold about one-fifth of all surface fresh water on Earth. Their basin straddles the border of Canada and the United States, sheltering more than 3,500 species of plants and animals, and tens of millions of people.

These waters aren’t simply vast storage tanks. They are living systems. Marshes filter runoff. Rivers swell with migrating fish. Wetlands cradle frog eggs and sedge roots. For millennia, Indigenous nations and fishing communities have relied on these shorelines. But stressed systems can break – and for decades, this one did.

The disappearance

River otters (Lontra canadensis) once moved almost everywhere in this basin. They swam with ease, hunted with precision and thrived in backwaters and bays thick with vegetation. But by the mid-20th century, they had vanished from the state of Ohio and become scarce across most of the watershed.

The reasons stacked up quickly. Over-trapping for fur. Pollution that loaded fish with PCBs and other toxins. Wetlands drained for farms and cities. Rivers and streams straightened, dammed, stripped bare. By the 1970s, the silence spoke volumes: the otter was gone, and with it an apex predator vital to the food chain.

A river otter at Muskatatuck National Wildlife Refuge. Photo: Don Sniegowski/Flickr.

The comeback

In 1986, Ohio’s Department of Natural Resources (ODNR) began reintroducing river otters to streams they had not seen in decades. Over the next seven years, 123 otters from Louisiana and Arkansas were released into rivers selected for their clean water, abundant food and protective cover.

They weren’t the only ones bringing otters back. In the late 1990s, New York’s River Otter Project relocated 279 otters – drawn from the Adirondacks, Catskills and Hudson Valley – to 16 sites across western and central New York state. Many of those waterways had been without otter populations longer than most residents could remember.

In Ontario, biologists have documented otters recolonizing areas such as Algonquin Provincial Park and the north shore of Lake Superior, where they had been scarce for much of the 20th century. Across western Canada, populations have rebounded more broadly. Aside from rare remnant areas on Prince Edward Island, river otters are now considered stable or expanding in nearly every province and territory.

Meanwhile, restoration of the habitat itself was gathering pace. Drained croplands were being reflooded as wetlands, riparian buffers were planted to shore up streambanks, and old dams were being removed to reconnect fragmented waterways. All of these efforts were bolstered by the 1972 Great Lakes Water Quality Agreement, a landmark U.S.–Canada treaty that pushed both countries toward reducing toxic discharges and restoring damaged habitats. By the 1990s, many of these rivers – once pollutants’ dumping grounds – were visibly cleaner and healthy enough once again to sustain apex predators.

The Maumee River at Defiance, Ohio. Photo: Bob Dilworth/Flickr.

Where the otters are now

Today, river otters once more slip through marshes and estuaries across the Great Lakes basin. Breeding populations are thriving along the Sandusky, Maumee and Grand rivers in Ohio. Sightings are increasingly common in Georgian Bay (part of Lake Huron) and along Ontario’s north shore of Lake Erie. Otters have returned to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula too, where quiet backwaters and fish-filled streams are ideal habitat.

As predators at the top of the chain, otters help regulate fish and invertebrate numbers. Their presence signals something deeper, too: the water is clean, the system productive, the ecosystem whole enough to support them again.

Challenges ahead

Recovery, unfortunately, doesn’t mean safety. Roads remain a serious threat. Highways cut through wetland corridors, and otters are killed crossing them. Wildlife officials map these blackspots and add underpasses, fencing and warning systems – but progress is slow.

New contaminants are appearing as well. PFAS, the so-called “forever chemicals,” are showing up in Great Lakes fish, their long-term impacts still unknown. Shoreline development eats away at denning sites. Climate change threatens to shift prey distribution and alter seasonal ice cover. Any of these pressures could slow or even reverse otters’ recovery.

Otters in the harbour in Grand Marais, Minnesota, on Lake Superior. Photo: Sharon Mollerus/Flickr.

More than a species

To many Indigenous communities, the otter represents more than biology. In Anishinaabe culture, for example, it symbolises resilience, adaptability, play. Seeing otters return is a cultural renewal as much as a biological one – a sign that healthy ecosystems sustain people as well as wildlife.

For others, the meaning is simpler. Otters spark joy. A sudden flash through cattails. The clean dive of a plunge. A slide down mud or snow. In this way, they’ve become unofficial guardians of fresh water, their vitality pulling people into conversations about wetlands and rivers.

The folks in charge of the comeback

The otters’ recovery is the work of many. ODNR’s reintroduction laid the foundation, but protection and monitoring continue through agencies, non-profits and volunteers.

The Alliance for the Great Lakes fights pollution and protects shorelines. The River Otter Ecology Project spreads knowledge and research. The Wetlands Initiative rebuilds marshes and floodplains that support countless species, otters among them. Together, they form a safety net for the otters’ future.

Photo: Carlos Porrata

Forward thinking

The next phase is keeping waterways open, clean and full of prey. As otters spread into smaller rivers and lakes, careful planning will matter – especially in regions under pressure from development.

Cross-border cooperation will be critical, since the lakes cross Canada and the U.S. – and otters do not care for borders. Public participation will matter too: reporting sightings, volunteering, supporting wetland projects. Each action helps.

The return of otters – and possibility

On a quiet morning, an otter surfaces with a fish flashing in its jaws. It climbs a half-sunken log, shakes itself in a spray, then slides back into the water with barely a ripple. The rings spread, then fade. The lake seems unchanged – yet it isn’t.

What matters is simple: otters are back. And their presence proves something worth remembering. Healing is possible. Ecosystems can recover. The story of the Great Lakes – its waters, its people, its wildlife – is still unfolding.

Snuffleupagus, a newly described species, is an adorable little predator

S. snuffleupagus, a newly described species of fish, is named after the beloved Sesame Street character, Mr. Snuffleupagus, to which it bears an "uncanny" resemblance.

Solenostomus snuffleupagus, a newly described species of fish, is named after the beloved Sesame Street character, Mr. Snuffleupagus. (David Harasti)

Scientist David Harasti never had any doubt what he would name the tiny orange creature he first spotted on a diving expedition in Papua New Guinea in 2003.

But it would take another two decades for Harasti and his colleague Graham Short to find the elusive fish again, study it, and officially designate it a new species.

Meet Solenostomus snuffleupagus, named after the beloved Sesame Street character, Mr. Snuffleupagus.

"Snuffy for short," Short, an ichthyologist at the California Academy of Sciences and the Australian Museum, told As It Happens host Nil Kӧksal. "The resemblance was quite uncanny."

Short and Harasti have now written a new paper, published in the journal Fish Biology, describing S. snuffleupagus as a new species of ghost pipefish that makes its home along coral reefs, and disguises itself as red algae.

'The awesome power of natural selection'

The fish has quite a few things in common with its namesake — mainly its orange-brown colouring, the long filaments that look like shaggy hair, and its elephant-like snout.

Milton Love, a marine biologist at the University of California’s Marine Science Institute in Santa Barbara, Calif., says the fish's muppet-like appearance demonstrates "the awesome power of natural selection."

"Clearly, all of the morphological features that we find endearing are of some value to the animal," Love, who was not involved in the research, said in email.

"Or, and here is another hypothesis, Gaia created this fish after having one too many of those rum drinks that come with those little umbrellas."

A snuffy fish photographed by a diver in Tonga. (Darren Rice/Matafonua Lodge)

But its similarity to Snuffleupagus goes deeper than meets the eye.

It's also extremely elusive, much like Mr. Snuffleupagus, who, in his early appearances on Sesame Street, was only ever seen by Big Bird, leading the other characters to mistakenly suspect he was imaginary.

Harasti and Short tried for years to spot a snuffy fish again after that first 2003 sighting to no avail.

Their luck changed in 2021 when some scuba diver buddies started seeing the little creatures on the Great Barrier Reef and got in touch. The scientists headed to Australia to see for themselves, and on their second dive, they found the fish.

"It's an understatement to say that we screamed under water," Short said. "We high-fived, gave each other a hug, and we were just so excited."

An itty-bitty carnivore

In order to describe the fish and confirm it as a previously undocumented species, the scientists looked at CT scans of specimens first collected in 1993 during exhibition to far north of Queensland, Australia, in the Torres Strait.

Short says they were collected alongside several hundred other fish specimens and tucked away until he and his colleague came looking. But even back then, he says ichthyologist Helen Larson, who was part of the expedition, suspected it was a new species.

S. snuffleupagus, like other ghost pipefish, is a cousin of the seahorse.

The newly described Snuffleupagus fish is smaller than a matchstick. (Darren Rice/Matafonua Lodge)

Using iNaturalist, the citizen science platform, the scientists confirmed sightings of it in Tonga, Papua New Guinea and New Caledonia, suggesting distribution across the southwestern Pacific.

And while it may look like Big Bird's beloved bestie, there are a few significant differences between S. snuffleupagus the fish and Snuffleupagus the muppet.

While Snuffleupagus is famously big — bigger even than Big Bird — S. snuffleupagus is roughly four to five centimetres long, about the size of an airpod.

The Sesame Street character Snuffleupagus, pictured here rehearsing for the 2019 Macy's Day Thanksgiving Parade in New York City, is much bigger and less predatorial than its fish counterpart. (John Lamparski/Getty Images)

And while Snuffleupagus would never harm a fly, S. snuffleupagus is a natural-born killer.

"They look adorable, very cute. They're very delicate and slow moving in the water. And it's been assumed that they only eat small crustaceans like small shrimp," Short said.

Not so, he says. The CT scans found tiny fish skeletons in the specimens' stomachs.

"Every fish has a role, and they are either eating or being eaten. It turns out, ghost pipe fish and in particular, snuffy … they're just like other fish," Short said. "They're predators."

Short says the widespread interest in S. snuffleupagus has been a delight, and he hopes it won't be the last fish he brings attention to.

He and his colleague already have their eyes on another species of ghost pipe fish that is known to divers around the Pacific, but hasn't been formally described.

If it works out, they plan to name it after another muppet, but Short wouldn't say which one.

"Not yet, because I need approval," he said.

Scientists Capture First-Ever Photos of the Elusive 'Cozumel Dwarf Fox' | PetaPixel

First-ever photograph of a Cozumel dwarf fox taken on September 17, 2023 | Image credit: Rafael Chacón

The Cozumel dwarf fox, a tiny animal so elusive that scientists were unsure whether it even existed, has been photographed for the first time.

Last month, researchers published the first-ever photographs and confirmed sighting of the Cozumel dwarf fox in more than 20 years in the journal Neotropical Biology and Conservation. The images show the adult male dwarf fox on the island of Cozumel, Mexico.

Close up of the Cozumel dwarf fox | Image credit: Rafael Chacón

While the images were only made public recently, the photographs date back to September 2023, when scientists located and safely recovered the Cozumel dwarf fox following online reports of a disoriented animal near the coastal highway on the island’s eastern side. After being held under observation and receiving a full health assessment, it was released into the Laguna Colombia State Reserve in Cozumel, a protected area chosen for its suitability and distance from road hazards.

Although the Cozumel dwarf fox was recovered, released into a protected reserve, and photographed, scientists say little is known about the species.

“The biggest challenge facing the Cozumel dwarf fox is that we still know almost nothing about it, including its remaining population size, distribution, or ecology,” Travis Bayer of Pathos Wildlife says in a statement. “That uncertainty alone is dangerous, because it makes effective conservation extremely difficult”.

A Tiny Animal That is Likely on the Brink of Extinction

The Cozumel dwarf fox is one of the rarest canine animals on the planet and represents a unique population that has inhabited the island of Cozumel for millennia, with subfossil remains suggesting its presence may predate early Mayan settlement.

This extensive period of isolation led to rapid evolutionary divergence and “insular dwarfism.” The Cozumel dwarf fox is estimated to be 60 to 80% the size of its mainland relative, the gray fox. Prior to this rediscovery, physical evidence of the Cozumel dwarf fox was entirely limited to these subfossil remains, and the last second-hand sighting had been reported in 2001.

Despite its long history on the island, the Cozumel dwarf fox has never been formally described or designated as taxonomically unique. Because its habitats in the southern portion of the island are increasingly threatened by land-use change, development, invasive species, and natural disasters, the scientific community considers the dwarf fox to be critically endangered and likely on the brink of extinction.

“One of the most important takeaways from this research is that species can quietly disappear without the world even realizing they are gone,” Bayer explains. “We often think extinction is something dramatic and obvious, but in reality, it can happen gradually and silently, especially for rare species living in remote or understudied habitats.”

Bayer adds: “The rediscovery of the fox is not a conservation success story yet, but it represents a second chance.”

...In 2013, a team of anthropologists led by Lee Berger unearthed the remains of more than 20 small-bodied hominins (ancient relatives of humans), all 335,000 to 236,000 years old, from the Rising Star Cave System in South Africa. Excavations at Rising Star have sparked debate about whether these little hominins had all ended up in the caves by tragic accident, or whether they’d been carefully placed there by other members of their enigmatic species, dubbed Homo naledi.

Now there’s a plot twist that may speak to how the remains got there: All of the hominins in Rising Star are female, at least according to the proteins in their dental enamel...

There’s an ongoing debate about Neanderthal art and abstract thought despite a growing pile of evidence. And that sort of debate rises in intensity when the early hominins in question have brains as relatively small as Homo naledi’s, which is about the size of a chimpanzee’s.

“There is a divide in the field between those that think that humans evolved from cultural species that were before us, and those that believe that culture originated with modern humans,” says Hawks, “so they resist any claims of culture earlier unless they have some sort of extraordinary evidence.”...

“This is our first contact with a—and I think it’s important to repeat this—a non-human species. Their brains are not human brains,” says Berger. And he’s deeply concerned about how humanity navigates that first contact.

...no other hominin species, meaning none of the Australopithecines and not even Homo erectus, have presented us with such clear evidence that they tended to their dead and etched art or symbols on the cave walls nearby. In other words, Homo naledi might have thought and felt in ways that we have to recognize as on a level with our own cognition...

...He hopes the protein study will prompt anthropologists and Homo sapiens in general to seriously think about the ethics of digging up the graves of an intelligent and cultured but non-human species.

“It certainly will mean we have to stop digging hominins like dinosaurs,”...

Scientists Have Been Studying Fire Salamanders for More Than 250 Years. They Just Discovered That the Creatures Glow Under UV Light

Fire salamanders—one of Europe’s most well-researched amphibians—are biofluorescent, which means they can absorb light from an external source at one wavelength, then re-emit it at another

Fire salamanders are among the most-studied amphibians in Europe, yet until now, no one realized they are biofluorescent. Bernat Burriel-Carranza

First described more than 250 years ago, fire salamanders are among the most-studied amphibians in Europe. Yet researchers are still making new discoveries about these charismatic creatures. Most recently, scientists learned that fire salamanders emit a bluish-green glow after being exposed to ultraviolet light, wavelengths that humans usually can’t see.

It’s the first time the phenomenon, known as biofluorescence, has been documented in the species, researchers report in a study published May 27 in the journal Royal Society Open Science. Though the ecological functions of biofluorescence remain unclear, scientists suspect that the amphibians might use the glow to communicate with one another, select mates or ward off predators.

Biofluorescence occurs when organisms absorb light from an external source at one wavelength, then re-emit it at another. Scientists used to think that only marine creatures and arthropods—a group that includes insects and arachnids—were biofluorescent. But in recent decades, they’ve been finding the trait in more animals, including some reptiles, birds and amphibians.

The bright, sparkly pattern is concentrated in the yellow spots on the creatures’ skin. Bernat Burriel-Carranza

“We are in a thrilling period of discovery in terms of biofluorescence in amphibians and other [four-limbed vertebrates],” Jennifer Lamb, a biologist at St. Cloud State University who was not involved with the research, tells National Geographic’s Jack Tamisiea.

Studies like this one, she adds, “help fill some of the gaps in our understanding, both in terms of what species fluoresce and in terms of the mechanisms likely responsible for that fluorescence.”

Against this backdrop, Bernat Burriel-Carranza, an evolutionary biologist at the Natural Sciences Museum of Barcelona, decided to start taking an ultraviolet (UV) flashlight, also known as a blacklight, with him on evening field expeditions. On a rainy night in Spain, he spotted a fire salamander crossing the road and pointed the beam at it. The flashlight revealed a bright, speckled pattern along the creature’s flanks.

Did you know? Biofluorescence vs. bioluminescence

Biofluorescent animals require an external light source to glow, while bioluminescent creatures produce their own light through chemical reactions in their cells.

Common throughout Europe, fire salamanders are small, black-and-yellow amphibians that range from 6 to 12 inches long. These nocturnal critters tend to live in cool, damp forests near bodies of water, where they feast on worms, slugs and other insects. If they feel threatened, fire salamanders can protect themselves via toxins in their skin or by spraying poisonous liquid from glands behind their eyes. They breathe through their skin, can regrow their limbs and tails and give birth to live young.

After the initial field observation in Spain, Burriel-Carranza and his colleagues decided to investigate biofluorescence in fire salamanders further. Between April 2024 and November 2025, they searched for fire salamanders in Spain and Germany, illuminated them with a UV flashlight and took photographs to capture the bright, speckled glow. The fluorescence seemed to be coming mostly from the yellow spots on the creatures’ skin and concentrated along their sides and stomachs.

Scientists think the yellow splotches might serve as warning signs to potential predators. Andrés Brunetti

Researchers also swabbed the salamanders’ skin to collect samples of their toxic secretions. When they exposed the slime to UV light, it glowed, too, suggesting the biofluorescence may be coming from the glands that produce the poisonous goo.

CW: animal cruelty

To confirm that hypothesis, the team dissected two preserved fire salamanders. When they looked at tissue samples under a microscope, they found fluorescent chemical compounds in the glands and bloodstream, which suggests the substances circulate throughout the creatures’ bodies. That’s something that had previously been observed only in some tree frogs, which use fluorescent compounds known as hyloins to illuminate their translucent skin.

Researchers suspect that the biofluorescence plays a role in communication. Bernat Burriel-Carranza

“We still don’t know what the compound responsible for this fluorescence is, but everything indicates that it is a molecule unknown until now in this species,” says study co-author Salvador Carranza, a biologist at the Institute of Evolutionary Biology in Spain, in a statement. “Identifying it will be key to understanding its origin and function.”

Though humans usually need a UV light to see the salamanders’ blue-green glow, it might be more clearly visible to other animals. Because salamanders are nocturnal and live in dense forests, one possible explanation is that they fluoresce so they can see one another better at night. The researchers say this proposal is supported by the fact that, compared with daylight, full moonlight contains more UV and violet wavelengths, the ones that are absorbed by the animals and re-emitted at different wavelengths. Additionally, the amount of moonlight that reaches the forest floor peaks in the fall, when the salamanders usually breed.

The toxic secretions that fire salamanders produce from their skin also glow under UV light, the researchers discovered. Bernat Burriel-Carranza

Beyond flagging down potential mates, the amphibians might also be using their natural fluorescence as a warning to predators. The scientists think the creatures use their bright yellow splotches as natural “keep away” signs, and because the fluorescence is concentrated in those markings and their toxic secretions, it may help reinforce that warning.

No matter how fire salamanders use their biofluorescence, Burriel-Carranza finds it “fascinating” that such a well-studied species could still hold undiscovered traits, he says in the statement.

“It reminds us that even the most familiar organisms can hide secrets that are only revealed when they are observed with new tools,” he adds.

On a flat dry lakebed in Death Valley National Park, heavy rocks sit at the end of long grooves they have plowed across the mud. The trails run for tens of meters, some bending in sharp turns or doubling back, yet no one had ever watched a rock actually move. For more than sixty years the question of how they travel sat unanswered, the subject of guesses that ranged from hurricane-strength winds to floating sheets of ice.

In 2014 a research team published the first direct scientific observation of the rocks in motion, and the mechanism turned out to be far gentler than the leading theories. The stones glide when a thin sheet of ice, only three to six millimeters thick, covers a shallow winter pond, starts to melt in the late morning sun, and breaks into floating panels that a light wind nudges across the water. The ice shoves the rocks along at a walking pace of a few meters per minute...

Malaysian scientists have discovered a new species of parasitic fungus in Borneo's jungles that preys on "zombie fungi" known to infect insects before subjecting them to a gruesome death...

Banner image: Turquoise dwarf gecko. Image © Ardgard Essau via iNaturalist (CC BY-NC 4.0).

How trade bans and local conservation helped save a dazzling blue gecko

Beauty is a curse — at least for the turquoise dwarf gecko of central Tanzania. Between December 2004 and July 2009, demand for this gecko from collectors in Europe boomed, leading to the capture and export of an estimated 40,000 of these striking reptiles from Tanzania.

“I remember when I saw them for the first time [at] a fair, it was about 600 euros per specimen,” or about $700, Dennis Rödder, a herpetologist at the Leibniz Institute for the Analysis of Biodiversity Change in Germany, told Mongabay in a video call. “I think within three or four years, the species appeared everywhere across Europe. You could buy them in every pet shop.”

Turquoise dwarf geckos (Lygodactylus williamsi) grow to a length of 6-9 centimeters (about 2.5-3.5 inches) and are known from only two small patches of forest in Tanzania: The Kimboza and Ruvu forest reserves. These protected areas cover a combined 34 square kilometers (13 square miles). Adult females have a green-brownish color that mimics the leaves of the trees they live in, but the males’ skins are a vivid contrasting blue, one of the rarest colors in nature, meant to stand out and attract females.

Turquoise dwarf gecko (Lygodactylus williamsi). Image © Simon via iNaturalist (CC BY-NC 4.0).

Active during the day, and so fiercely territorial they evict their young hatchlings from their home trees soon after birth, this species lives exclusively on screwpines (Pandanus rabaiensis), a tree found in Kenya and Tanzania. Standing anywhere from 3-20 meters tall (up to 66 feet), these trees feature long, spiked leaves and a fountain-shaped architecture that provide the ideal habitat for the reptiles, giving them shelter to hide and reproduce, a platform to bask, and a feeding place where water for cooling and insects accumulate.

“It’s the perfect environment for them,” Charles Kilawe, a forest ecologist at Tanzania’s Sokoine University of Agriculture, told Mongabay in a video call. “The leaves of the Pandanus have spines, and it protects [the lizards] against predators like snakes or … eagles.”

But the gecko’s reliance on the screwpine as protection against natural predators has left it vulnerable to another predator: using machetes, poachers cut down large screwpines to grab their helpless resident geckos. The logging to capture these animals was so intense that by 2009, screwpines had gone from covering more than half of Kimboza to only 17.6% of the forest reserve’s area.

That year, researchers estimated that only around 150,000 of these beautiful geckos remained in the wild.

“When I started to work there in 2016, it was difficult to spot them,” Kilawe said.

In 2009, herpetologist Morris Flecks and colleagues from the Leibniz Institute interviewed one group of gecko collectors from the communities around Kimboza and estimated that they had captured between 32,000 and 42,000 turquoise dwarf geckos from the forest reserve over the previous five years. The researchers noted that this total — which they believed represented at least 15% of the wild population at the time — could be even higher as it didn’t account for many more geckos collected by other groups known to be operating in the forest.

Collection or export of the geckos — or any other wildlife species from a protected forest reserve — required a license, but officials from the Tanzania Wildlife Research Institute told the researchers no such permits were ever issued.

This frenzied collection for the pet trade and the rapid destruction of their already limited habitat led to a steep decline in the geckos’ population size; Rödder, Flecks and other herpetologists recommended that the species should be listed as critically endangered by the IUCN. This was done in 2012. It took another five years before international trade in turquoise dwarf geckos was banned when the species was added to Appendix I of CITES, the global treaty on the wildlife trade.

By this time, the wholesale capture of the geckos in the shadow of Tanzania’s Uluguru Mountains had tapered off; overseas markets were saturated, and while the reptiles remained popular, captive-bred geckos were widely available across Europe, pushing the price of a turquoise dwarf gecko from a peak of $1,500 per specimen to just $40 each.

“Population sizes are back to pre-collecting events. So that’s the good part,” Rödder told Mongabay.

“The not-so-good part is that after a couple of years after our study, there was a wildfire in one of these reserves.”

The white-chested alethe (Chamaetylas fuelleborni) is one of several species that have returned to Kimboza, thanks to restoration efforts involving members of the local community. Image © Zein et Carlo via iNaturalist (CC BY-NC 4.0).

Habitat loss due to illegal logging, collection of firewood, conversion of forest to agricultural land, mining, and the growing presence of the invasive Spanish cedar (Cedrela odorata) inside and outside the two forest reserves where L. williamsi is found continue to put pressure on the geckos.

Spanish cedar was introduced to Kimboza in 1960, ironically as a means to relieve logging pressure on native tree species. The idea was that this fast-growing tree, native to the Americas, could provide a reliable source of quality timber and firewood.

The idea was too successful. The exotic cedar, which can grow to a towering 40 m (130 ft), turned out to be very invasive: because it produces seeds twice a year that are dispersed by wind and germinate easily in open areas, the species has taken advantage of gaps and changes to forest structure caused by illegal logging and fires to replace screwpine in many areas.

“By 2016, Cedrela was the most dominant tree in the forest, covering nearly 32% of the big trees area,” Kilawe told Mongabay.

In 2022, Kilawe published a study of Kimboza aimed at determining if turquoise dwarf geckos were directly affected by the presence of Spanish cedars. He found screwpines still thriving in swampy areas and on limestone outcrops, but where a similar survey 40 years earlier found P. rabaiensis in more than half of plots it surveyed, screwpines occurred in barely half the plots Kilawe examined — a severe reduction in habitat for geckos. The presence of cedars, meanwhile, had moved in the opposite direction, found in 16% of plots in 1982, but 52% in Kilawe’s study.

While he found turquoise dwarf geckos just as frequently in screwpines growing under the taller cedars, results from the surveyed plots showed that the number of lizards in screwpines shadowed by dense exotic canopy was considerably lower than in areas where there were fewer cedars or none at all.

Further research is needed to understand what the direct effect of the cedars’ presence on geckos is, but the invasives’ steady expansion into forest areas opened up by fire or tree falls raises fears that cedars will continue to displace gecko habitat. Similar impacts on native biodiversity have been reported from other places where the tree has been introduced, such as Ghana and the Galápagos Islands.

Screwpine (Pandanus rabaiensis) in Morogoro, Tanzania. Image © Andrey Vlasenko via iNaturalist (CC BY-NC 4.0).

Today, people from the villages surrounding Kimboza Forest Reserve assist rangers in managing the forest, Kilawe said. Led by Kilawe, they have cut down nearly 100,000 Spanish cedar trees since 2016, and reduced forest fires by around 80%.

They have also planted about 5,000 native trees per year since 2018, working step by step to rebuild the original structure of Kimboza’s forest. Kilawe told Mongabay 10 “ambassadors” drawn from the different villages are paid for their efforts; guiding tourists is another source of occasional income linked to protecting this ecosystem.

“We are hoping that if the removal process continues, in about five years, maybe the forest might be Cedrela-free,” Kilawe said. “It is very important and effective to work with the community in conservation.”

Once caught between the devil and the blue sea, the turquoise dwarf gecko is recovering thanks to these reforestation efforts and the prohibition on trade worldwide. Kilawe said the restoration of Kimboza’s forests has also allowed other animals, such as blue monkeys (Cercopithecus mitis) and birds like the white-chested alethe (Chamaetylas fuelleborni) and the trumpeter hornbill (Bycanistes bucinator) to return to the forest, showing that collaborative hard work can save species and places from the fragile edge of extinction.

Hidden in plain sight: the race to discover new species before they’re gone

When most people imagine scientists discovering new species, they probably still picture an expedition into the unknown.

A naturalist travels somewhere remote, perhaps on a wooden ship, and traipses through the jungle to encounter an animal or plant never before described by science. The intrepid explorer brings back specimens or observations to a museum, where they can be compared, named and described.

There is some truth to this stereotype. Between 1854 and 1862, scientist Alfred Russel Wallace travelled through the Malay Archipelago, discovering animals and insects unknown to Western science. This led him to the theory of evolution by natural selection, contemporaneously with Charles Darwin.

Antarctica had its own era of discovery. In 1840, scientists on a French expedition encountered what we now know as Adélie penguins. Imagine seeing penguins for the first time: strange black-and-white birds waddling over the ice, sliding on their bellies, leaping from freezing seas.

Of course, “discovery” is a loaded word. Many animals and plants described by Western science were already known to Indigenous peoples and local communities. What changed was their entry into the formal scientific naming system – the global process by which species are compared, classified and recognised.

Today, scientists are still finding new life in remote places and hidden inside the DNA of animals we thought we already knew.

We still explore unknown worlds

Scientists still discover species this way: by probing Earth’s nooks and crannies and travelling to remote places to study what lives there.

Last year, I was onboard the scientific vessel R/V Falkor (too) in Antarctica’s Weddell Sea, where one scientific team was searching for seafloor methane seeps.

These are not just geological curiosities. Methane seeps create unusual habitats that harbour strange communities of life fuelled not by sunlight, but by chemicals rising from below. Scientists have already found new microbial diversity at Antarctica’s first known active methane seep.

Not all hard-to-reach worlds are underwater. In Papua New Guinea’s Southern Fold Mountains, camera traps captured a shy, ground-dwelling bird slipping through rugged limestone forest. Scientists described it as a new species in 2025, the hooded jewel-babbler.

But there is another kind of discovery happening too.

White microbial mats underwater are telltale signs of seeping methane. Andrew Thurber, CC BY-ND

Hidden species in familiar animals

Some species are not hidden because they live at the bottom of the sea or deep in a mountain forest. They are hiding in plain sight.

Gentoo penguins are a good example. With their bright orange bills and comic waddle, they are familiar to anyone who has visited Antarctica. To most observers, they are simply “gentoos”.

But our new research shows gentoo penguins are not one widespread species, but four. Our 2020 study first showed major genetic and physical differences between gentoo penguins from different islands.

Now, using whole genomes – the complete set of genetic instructions inside an animal – and ecological modelling, we found these penguins are not just separated by distance, but have adapted to different Southern Ocean worlds.

Gentoo penguins on Cuverville Island, Antarctica. David Stanley/flickr, CC BY-ND

Learning to see in higher resolution

Discoveries like this are often called “hidden” species. They look very similar to their relatives, but if we study their DNA, body measurements, behaviour and ecology, it’s clear they are separate species.

Species discovery has always depended on the tools available. Early naturalists relied on what they could collect: feathers, skins, eggs and bones. These museum collections are like time machines and remain incredibly important.

Today, whole genomes tell us if animals have different coding. Ecological models show whether animals live in different environmental conditions. Mathematical approaches test whether groups are evolving independently.

In other words, we are learning to see biodiversity in higher resolution.

This sharper view is changing how we understand familiar animals. For a long time, giraffes were considered one species, but genetics suggests they are four. My own work on forest birds in Madagascar found a new species of Newtonia bird.

The Tapanuli orangutan is a powerful example. This Indonesian great ape from Sumatra was described as a new species in 2017, based on genomic, anatomical and behavioural evidence. It was extraordinary to recognise a new great ape in the 21st century, and sobering to realise fewer than 800 may remain.

Again and again, the message is the same. The natural world is more complex than we know. And sometimes, by the time we recognise that complexity, a species may already be in deep trouble.

The Tapanuli orangutan is a species of orangutan restricted to South Tapanuli in the island of Sumatra in Indonesia. It is one of three known living species of orangutan. Prayugo Utomo/Creative Commons, CC BY

Why names matter

Taxonomy – the science of naming and classifying life – can sound like an old-fashioned labelling exercise. But it’s how we map life on Earth.

Conservation laws, threatened species lists and monitoring programs usually work at the species level. If several species are mistakenly treated as one, a declining species can be hidden inside a larger group that looks secure.

As we stand at the precipice of Earth’s sixth mass extinction, this has never been more important.

Recognising hidden biodiversity does not solve conservation problems by itself. But it helps us ask better questions. Which species are increasing? Which are declining? Which have not been counted for decades?

These questions are urgent, because we are racing to understand biodiversity while climate change and habitat loss reshape life on Earth.

Even now, in an age of satellites and genome sequencing, Earth still has secrets. Not only in the most remote places, but in the first animals we learn to recognise as children: penguins, giraffes, orangutans.

The closer we look, the more life reveals itself. Our task now is to keep looking and protect the richness that was there all along.

Cover image:

Two individuals of Thecacera sesama sp. nov. feeding on a bryozoan. Image credit: Ho-Yeung Chan et al.

Tiny sesame sea slug species discovered in the waters of northern Taiwan | Blog

This tiny nudibranch, which measures less than three millimetres in length, was first spotted by lead author Ho-Yeung Chan during a recreational dive in 2019.

Translucent, speckled, and barely the size of a grain of rice, a new species of sea slug has been identified in the coastal waters of Keelung, Taiwan. Because of its minute size and distinctive black and yellow markings, researchers from National Taiwan Ocean University, National Museum of Natural Science and National Taipei University of Education have named the creature Thecacera sesama.

“Taiwanese divers call it ‘sesame’ in Chinese and it is also small like a sesame seed, hence the name,” the research team explained regarding their decision to honour the local nickname in the scientific nomenclature. This tiny nudibranch, which measures less than three millimetres in length, was first spotted by lead author Ho-Yeung Chan during a recreational dive in 2019.

Thecacera sesama sp. nov. Details of appearance and morphological features, hand-drawn on a tablet PC by Chen-Lu Lee.

The discovery was a stroke of luck that began during Chan’s undergraduate studies:

“During a recreational dive in the summer during the undergraduate study of HY Chan in 2019, he accidentally discovered Thecacera sesama sp. nov. in northern Taiwan waters.”

The Research Team

Despite its unique appearance, the importance of the find was not immediately obvious. In a modern twist on traditional taxonomy, Chan “never realised Thecacera sesama was a new species until he consulted the sea slug expert ‘Hsini Lin teacher’ on Facebook.”

Living specimens of Thecacera sesama sp. nov. Image credit: Ho-Yeung Chan et al.

Documenting the species proved to be a significant logistical feat due to the volatile environment of the Keelung coast. The research team noted that the most challenging part of the study was the unique weather conditions of the region.

Taiwan experiences frequent typhoons in the summer and large waves during the winter monsoon season, with sea temperatures often dropping below 16 degrees Celsius. These factors mean that diving for nudibranch research is only possible for about four months of the year, making sightings of such tiny creatures entirely a matter of chance.

Living specimens of bryozoan with Thecacera species. Image credit: Ho-Yeung Chan et al.

The life of T. sesama is remarkably focused, as the researchers observed that the species exhibits only four primary behaviours: feeding, searching, mating, and laying eggs on bryozoans, which are tiny aquatic invertebrates often called “moss animals”. Interestingly, the specific bryozoan that T. sesama calls home may itself be a species new to science.

From a broader ecological perspective, these vibrant molluscs play a vital role in the marine environment:

“Nudibranchs are one of the key players in the marine food web. They are extremely colourful and can be spotted on coral reef ecosystems. However, many nudibranchs are very small in size and are extremely difficult to spot underwater with the naked eye.”

The Research Team

The researchers believe that the discovery of T. sesama is just the tip of the iceberg for Taiwanese marine biology. Because many species are so small, many more are likely awaiting discovery and formal study. The full research on Thecacera sesama was published in the open-access journal ZooKeys on 11 May 2026.

Original source:

Chan H-Y, Lee C-L, Chen W-C, Chang C-H, Shao Y-T, Pang K-L (2026) Thecacera sesama sp. nov. (Nudibranchia, Polyceridae) from Taiwan, evident from morphology and phylogenetic analyses of the 16S rDNA and cytochrome c oxidase I gene. ZooKeys 1279: 269-284. https://doi.org/10.3897/zookeys.1279.184298

'Lethally salty' waters hinder rare toad's recovery

Getty Images

The study found toad survival and size was affected by the salt levels in the water

Salty water could be preventing the recovery of one of the UK's rarest amphibians by making former breeding sites unsuitable for their survival, a study has concluded.

The natterjack toad is found in just a handful of locations.

In Scotland, its only remaining homes are along the Solway Coast, including the RSPB's Mersehead Reserve near Southerness.

Scientists have found that the salt level in water from former breeding sites in south-west Scotland was linked to failed hatching, smaller growth and altered development.

The research is published in the academic journal Ichthyology and Herpetology.

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The study took samples at various sites to check their salt levels

The project was led by Dr Frances Orton, an environmental biologist at Edinburgh's Heriot-Watt University.

"Natterjack toads have declined across the UK, not just in Scotland," she said.

"We wanted to find out why these tiny toads were surviving in the nature reserve in Dumfries and Galloway, but had disappeared from sites along that coast.

"We used anecdotal reports from farmers and local wildlife groups to identify former breeding ponds in Caerlaverock, Southerness and several farms."

The team analysed water samples from Mersehead, where the natterjack toad survives, and other sites.

They measured temperature, pH and salinity and exposed natterjack spawn to water from each of the sites.

Getty Images

Scotland's only remaining natterjack toad colonies are along the Solway Coast

Orton said: "Some of the former breeding sites had such a high level of salinity that no embryos survived to hatching.

"Some weren't as lethally salty, but what we saw there was that the toads were much smaller.

"That doesn't sound like a big deal, but when you're a frog, size really does matter. 95% of tadpoles are eaten by predators.

"For the 5% that make it to the next stage of development, they need to be as big as possible for a chance at survival."

She said the findings could help improve work to revive numbers.

"Until now, a lot of natterjack toad restoration efforts have focused on improving terrestrial habitat, like clearing scrub or controlling vegetation," she said.

"That's still important, but now we know that unless the salinity of the water is tackled, the tiny toads will have no chance of survival."

The biologist added that action needed to be taken soon.

"Amphibians are the fastest-declining vertebrate group globally," she said.

"They've been around for 350 million years, but now species like the natterjack toad are disappearing, quickly.

"They play a huge ecological role as both predators and prey - they feed lots of animal species and, as gardeners will tell you, they eat lots of slugs and midges.

"Natterjack toads are on the verge of extinction and it's vital we understand ways to protect and boost the populations that remain."

Orton and her team conducted the research - supported by the Carnegie Trust and NatureScot - across seven sites in Dumfries and Galloway.

Banner image of a koala by Bernard Spragg. NZ via Flickr (CC0).

Australia has the money to protect nature. It just isn't spending it, expert says

“I think the international community really does need to put more pressure on Australia to do better,” says Euan Ritchie, a professor of wildlife ecology and conservation at Deakin University in Australia, in a recent episode of Mongabay’s Newscast.

From animals like kangaroos, koalas and platypuses, to plants like waratah, kangaroo paw and climbing heath, Australia has exceptionally high biodiversity, with a unique assemblage of wildlife found nowhere else on the planet.

The Australian government claims the country is on track to meet many of its targets under the Kunming-Montreal Global Biodiversity Framework, the landmark agreement that aims to halt and reverse the decline of biodiversity, and ensure the sustainable use of biodiversity equitable sharing of benefits, among other goals, by 2050.

However, Ritchie, who’s also the president of the Australian Mammal Society and a councilor for the country’s Biodiversity Council, argues that “Australia is failing miserably” on all those measures. This is despite Australia being one of the wealthiest nations on Earth in terms of GDP per capita, with a “huge number of really knowledgeable scientists,” he tells Newscast host Mike DiGirolamo.

“If we look at the number of threatened species in Australia, it’s more than 2,200 now, and that list continues to increase,” Ritchie says. “We have ecosystems that are collapsing, 17 in total within Australia and two more further south into sub-Antarctic and Antarctic regions that are collapsing.”

The iconic koala (Phascolarctos cinereus) is also now endangered in the states of Queensland and New South Wales, and in the Australian Capital Territory (ACT), he adds.

Ritchie and other researchers argue that just 1% of Australia’s annual federal budget, or about A$7 billion ($5 billion), would help save the country’s threatened species and protect ecosystems. However, Australia’s latest annual budget allocates only 0.06% to nature conservation — and this is expected to decline in the future.

At the same time, the government is estimated to spend more than A$26 billion ($19 billion) annually to support or subsidize harmful industries like fossil fuels, DiGirolamo says.

One of the government’s strategies to finance nature protection is to create a “nature repair market,” a voluntary biodiversity market, where industry and private players can earn biodiversity certificates.

A biodiversity market would be very complex to navigate and get right, Ritchie says. Instead, he says Australia should just pony up the money for conservation, which he says it can “afford to [at] a much larger degree today.”

Surveys by the Biodiversity Council also show that 95% of Australians polled support the increased government spending on the environment.

“Australia is a sovereign nation. It’s really rich. If we want to fund something that we think is really important, the government could literally do that today,” Ritchie says. “It’s just a case of whether they have the political appetite to do that.”

Listen to the full conversation with Euan Ritchie here.

New miniature bright-orange toadlet found in southern Brazil and named after Lula

In a small stretch of the Atlantic Forest in southern Brazil lives a bright-orange species of frog that’s new to science, researchers report in a recent study. The miniature amphibian measures just over a centimeter long, less than half an inch, or the length of an average fingernail.

The team has named the toadlet Brachycephalus lulai, in honor of Brazil’s president, Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva.

The genus Brachycephalus, also called flea toads or saddleback toads, are all tiny and live among leaf litter in Brazil’s Atlantic rainforest. Of the 42 known species, 35 have been described since 2000.

Individuals of the latest species to be described, B. lulai, were found hidden in the leaf litter of the montane Atlantic Forest at two nearby sites on the southeastern slopes of Serra do Quiriri in the state of Santa Catarina, southern Brazil.

The researchers collected 32 individuals and compared different features of the frogs, including their DNA and vocalizations, with those of other Brachycephalus species. Their analysis showed that it was indeed a new-to-science species.

B. lulai has a bright-orange body dotted with tiny green and brown spots. Males measure just 8.9-11.3 millimeters (0.35-0.44 inches) in length, while females are slightly larger at 11.7-13.4 mm (0.46-0.53 inches). The males produce a very distinct call to attract females that’s unique to the species, the researchers found.

Currently, the sites where B. lulai was found appear to be intact, without any significant threats. As such, the researchers suggest the species be categorized as least concern under the IUCN Red List classification.

“The new species occurs in highly preserved forests that are very difficult to access, which means it is not threatened with extinction,” Marcos R. Bornschein, study co-author from the Institute of Biosciences at São Paulo State University, told Popular Science. “It is one of the few Brachycephalus species that are not threatened, which is very reassuring for us.”

However, “it is essential to continue systematically monitoring this scenario,” the researchers write. This is because the broader Serra do Quiriri range — which includes threatened frog species like B. quiririensis, B. auroguttatus, and Melanophryniscus biancae — faces impacts from regular burning of grasslands, cattle grazing, mining, invasion of pine trees, and development for tourism.

Banner image: The newly described Brachycephalus lulai. Image courtesy of Luiz Fernando Ribeiro.

...In the new study, the researchers also found signs in the same set of samples of an extended fungal bloom tens of thousands of years before the asteroid impact. This coincides with intense volcanic activity in what is now India and supports the idea that volcanism was a factor in the mass extinctions in that period.

Fungal surges are presumably due to the availability of dead plants and animals as food sources following disasters and disruptions...

“If you ask most people what killed the dinosaurs, they’ll say it was that asteroid, but our fungal microfossil-based results suggest that the world already had been undergoing a cataclysm when the asteroid struck,”...

How homing pigeons keep navigation simple when winging their way home together

Credit: Altaf Shah from Pexels

When it comes to flocking together, homing pigeons use a simple strategy to find better ways home, according to a recent report. The study, published in the journal eLife, suggests that homing pigeons use simple route averaging when navigating as a group. eLife's editors say the work addresses an important question, and provides compelling evidence based on multiple models and data on how homing pigeons can generate social routes from solitary ones.

The findings open avenues for future research to investigate the evolution of the mechanisms used by homing pigeons and other social animals when deciding on the best route to travel.

How pigeons pick their routes

How animals navigate complex environments depends on their cognitive abilities. When traveling in groups, some animals pool individual information to improve their navigation. This can be achieved by following experienced leaders, which requires recognizing the experts of the group, or by using simpler mechanisms, such as the "wisdom of crowds" principle, which averages the routes of all individuals. These strategies therefore range from cognitively complex to simple, but their prevalence or interplay in nature remains unexplored.

"This is where the homing pigeon comes in: as a social species that has been studied extensively for their ability to develop and recall routes, these birds are an ideal model organism for studying navigational strategies," says author Shoubhik Banerjee, a Ph.D. student in senior author Albert Kao's lab at the University of Massachusetts Boston (UMass Boston), US. Banerjee and Kao conducted the study with Postdoctoral Researcher Fritz Francisco, also a member of the Kao Lab.

A previous study published in 2017 showed that pairs of experienced and naïve homing pigeons could continuously improve their homing routes over the course of the experiment. The study proposed the key driver to be cumulative cultural evolution (CCE), where chains of birds improve their routes by exploring different options and choosing better ones. However, a detailed mechanistic understanding of how these route improvements emerge is still lacking.

"Building on that study, we aimed to investigate the mechanisms that pigeons use to improve their route efficiency and whether those mechanisms fall under the criteria required for CCE," Banerjee adds.

Inside the experimental design

The previous work involved creating "chains" of birds, similar to a game of telephone, and allowing them to fly back home repeatedly from a release site 8.4km away. Each chain was composed of five "generations" and included an experienced bird that knew about the homing task from the previous generation, paired with a naïve bird that lacked this information.

At the end of the generation (12 flights), the experienced pigeon was replaced with a new, naïve pigeon that traveled with the remaining, now-experienced bird. Working as control groups, solo and fixed pairs of birds carried out the same number of flights as the experimental group (a total of 60 flights). The study found that the experimental chains of birds significantly outperformed both the solo and fixed pair controls by the end of the fifth generation—a result attributed to CCE.

Illustration of the hypothesized social learning strategies. Credit: eLife (2026). DOI: 10.7554/elife.108054.3

Testing different learning strategies

Banerjee, Francisco and Kao set out to explore which navigation mechanism is necessary and sufficient to replicate those experimental results. They developed seven plausible learning mechanisms, categorized into three types with increasing cognitive complexity.

The first type represents the simplest process, where birds have no knowledge of their partner's level of experience or performance, and includes only the averaging strategy. The second type assumes that birds can recognize the more experienced individual in the pair and maximize their performance using this knowledge. And the third type introduces the highest level of cognitive complexity, which requires birds to actively evaluate their individual or paired performance, aligning with the mechanistic criteria required for CCE.

The team then compared the results of the seven mechanisms with the experimental data to identify which strategies are most likely to be used by real birds. In particular, they explored whether the cognitive requirements of CCE are necessary for the observed improvement in navigation ability.

Simple averaging comes out on top

They found that all of the strategies resulted in route improvements, regardless of their underlying complexity, which suggests that a wide range of decision-making mechanisms can lead to navigational improvements—not just the ones compatible with the definition of CCE. However, when they combined the results with those from a social weight analysis, they found that the experimental data aligned best overall with the simplest strategy: averaging individual routes.

"We show that an improvement in route efficiency alone is not sufficient evidence for cultural transmission, as the experimental birds did not demonstrate some of the criteria of CCE," says author Fritz Francisco. "This could be due to the wisdom of crowds improving routes 'for free' without placing additional cognitive load on the birds. On average, birds in this experiment influenced each other's routes equally, disregarding any differences in experience, which raises broader questions about which social learning mechanisms truly align with the requirements for CCE."

What this means for future research

The team further observed that mixed strategies, while not supported by the experimental data, theoretically combined advantages from both averaging and active selection of better routes, resulting in even greater performance.

"Our results therefore pave the way for future studies to investigate the evolution of social learning and trade-offs among the different decision mechanisms that may be available to animals in the wild," concludes senior author Albert Kao, Assistant Professor and Principal Investigator at UMass Boston.

"For this navigation task, simple averaging is sufficient to explain the experimental results in homing pigeons, but other tasks may be less amenable to the wisdom of crowds—there's a lot of complexity in this area. It would be interesting to explore how collective navigation strategies evolve in different contexts, taking into account, for example, typical group sizes, error rates, and how many times a task is repeated, to better understand social decision-making in homing pigeons and other animals."

Study clarifies conditions for amphibian species richness on marine islands

Ecology

Study clarifies conditions for amphibian species richness on marine islands

Analysis of data from over 5,000 territories and 1,924 species of toads and frogs shows that two of the main theories about the biodiversity of plants, birds, and mammals in these habitats do not explain the richness of anuran amphibians on their own.

Ecology

Study clarifies conditions for amphibian species richness on marine islands

Analysis of data from over 5,000 territories and 1,924 species of toads and frogs shows that two of the main theories about the biodiversity of plants, birds, and mammals in these habitats do not explain the richness of anuran amphibians on their own.

The Brazilian white-edged tree frog (Boana albomarginata) lives on the mainland and on islands, but the island populations are much larger than the mainland populations (photo: Raoni Rebouças/IB-UNICAMP)

By André Julião | Agência FAPESP – A Brazilian study published in the journal Ecography indicates that the biodiversity of anuran amphibians (toads and frogs) on islands is determined by factors encompassed in two previously opposing theories.

“Biodiversity models that consider island size, distance from the mainland, and productivity [of organic matter per area] have been confirmed with relative success for plants, birds, and mammals, but they hadn’t yet been tested with anuran amphibians, which can’t tolerate salinity and therefore face an insurmountable barrier in the sea,” says Raoni Rebouças, first author of the study, which he conducted as part of his postdoctoral research at the Institute of Biology of the State University of Campinas (IB-UNICAMP) with a fellowship from FAPESP.

To verify whether the models applied to anuran amphibians, the researchers compiled data from over 5,000 marine islands worldwide. Size, distance from the mainland, and climate were among the factors taken into account. The database also included information on the ecological characteristics of 1,924 anuran amphibian species found on marine islands.

The researchers analyzed the number of species on each island, as well as other measures of diversity. These include functional or ecological niche diversity, which considers whether a species is terrestrial, aquatic, arboreal, or fossorial (meaning it lives underground), and phylogenetic diversity, which measures how many evolutionary lineages exist in the area.

“If there are 200 species on an island, but they all belong to the same family and are all aquatic, then there’s high species richness, but low phylogenetic and functional diversity,” explains Matheus Moroti, co-author of the article and a postdoctoral researcher at IB-UNICAMP funded by FAPESP.

In addition to the global analysis, which included all islands and species, the researchers analyzed the biodiversity of anuran amphibians according to climate, distinguishing between tropical and temperate regions.

“Our results show that distance from the mainland, size, and productivity are important for explaining the diversity of anuran amphibians on islands, but their relevance differs depending on the climate [tropical or temperate] and the diversity being considered – whether it’s species richness, functional diversity, or phylogenetic diversity,” says Moroti.

Mantella baroni is one of more than 300 species of anuran amphibians in Madagascar, a large island off the southeast coast of Africa (photo: Leslie Poulson/Creative Commons license via Raoni Rebouças)

Complementary theories

According to the theory of island biogeographic equilibrium, developed based on two papers by Robert MacArthur and Edward O. Wilson, one from 1963 and the other from 1967, the larger the island and the shorter the distance to the mainland, the greater the species richness. This is because species can easily migrate between islands, and larger islands have more space to support many individuals.

On small islands far from the mainland, migration rates would be lower and extinction rates higher, resulting in lower diversity. Subsequently, the theory was tested and confirmed for various groups.

“But for those that can’t tolerate salt, any marine island is distant. That’s why we had to test this theory with anuran amphibians,” recalls Rebouças.

Another important theory regarding island biodiversity considers a factor overlooked by MacArthur and Wilson: the amount of energy available for species to live and evolve on an island, regardless of its size.

Proposed by David Wright in 1983, the species-energy theory suggests that the availability of energy in the form of organic matter productivity per area alone determines diversity on islands.

: Islands seen from Ubatuba, on the coast of the state of São Paulo. Island environments influence amphibian biodiversity differently than they do other animals and plants (photo: Raoni Rebouças/IB-UNICAMP)

Thus, islands of the same size can have different species richness depending on their productivity. The greater the energy produced, the greater the capacity to support a large number of individuals.

“A good example is the world’s largest island, Greenland. Covered in ice for much of the year, it has no frog species. Meanwhile, the second-largest, Borneo, has over 400,” Rebouças explains.

After cross-referencing the available data, the researchers concluded that neither theory alone explains the diversity of anuran amphibians on islands. Rather, both theories are complementary, each providing a better explanation depending on the type of biodiversity measured (species, functional, or phylogenetic) and the climate regime (tropical or temperate).

For example, when considering species and lineage richness, global and tropical data point to a strong correlation with island size. However, in temperate regions, this relationship is weak, as seen in Greenland.

Functional diversity, or the diversity of ecological niches such as terrestrial, aquatic, arboreal, and fossorial, is closely linked to climate when considering the entire world and temperate regions. However, the relationship is weak in tropical regions, which do not depend as much on climate for different niches.

Future studies should examine historical factors influencing diversity on islands. Additionally, a finer-grained analysis could be conducted that includes river islands and considers the extent of water bodies present on the islands.

This study received support from FAPESP through three projects (16/25358-3, 19/18335-5, and 20/12658-4). Two of these projects were part of the Research Program on Biodiversity Characterization, Conservation, and Sustainable Use (BIOTA-FAPESP).

The article “Environmental and geomorphological drivers of frog diversity on islands worldwide” can be read at nsojournals.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/ecog.07818.

^The\ Puerto\ Rican\ crested\ toad\ is\ the\ only\ toad\ native\ to\ Puerto\ Rico\ and\ was\ once\ thought\ to\ be\ extinct\ in\ the\ wild.\ Today,\ the\ species\ persists\ through\ one\ of\ the\ world's\ longest-running\ amphibian\ reintroduction\ efforts\ but\ remains\ listed\ as\ endangered\ by\ the\ International\ Union\ for\ Conservation\ of\ Nature\ (IUCN).\ Credit:\ Brookfield\ Zoo\ Chicago^

Behind the scenes at Brookfield Zoo Chicago, a record-breaking conservation milestone is helping secure the future of one of the world's most imperiled amphibians. Months of meticulous care and coordination enabled Brookfield Zoo Chicago to successfully breed and raise 12,244 Puerto Rican crested toad tadpoles to be released in the wild, supporting species recovery efforts.

This marks Brookfield Zoo Chicago's largest tadpole count from a single breeding cycle. Over the last decade, the Zoo has contributed nearly 40,000 Puerto Rican crested toad tadpoles to island-wide recovery efforts led by the Puerto Rican Crested Toad Conservancy (PRCTC) in partnership with the Puerto Rico Department of Natural and Environmental Resources (DRNA), the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS), and 16 accredited zoos and aquariums.

"Conservation work like this can be incredibly detailed and time-consuming, but that's what makes these milestones so meaningful," said Mike Masellis, Brookfield Zoo Chicago lead animal care specialist.

"From carefully coordinating breeding pairs to hand-counting thousands of tadpoles and tracking toads in the field, every step plays an important role in helping restore this species. Our hope is that years from now, some of these tadpoles will return to the breeding ponds as adults and continue establishing future generations in the wild."

(Click for video)

^Behind\ the\ scenes\ at\ Brookfield\ Zoo\ Chicago,\ a\ record-breaking\ conservation\ milestone\ is\ helping\ secure\ the\ future\ of\ one\ of\ the\ world's\ most\ imperiled\ amphibians.\ Months\ of\ meticulous\ care\ and\ coordination\ enabled\ Brookfield\ Zoo\ Chicago\ to\ successfully\ breed\ and\ raise\ 12,244\ Puerto\ Rican\ crested\ toad\ tadpoles\ to\ support\ species\ recovery\ efforts\ in\ the\ wild\ led\ by\ the\ Puerto\ Rican\ Crested\ Toad\ Conservancy\ (PRCTC).\ Credit:\ Brookfield\ Zoo\ Chicago^

The Puerto Rican crested toad is the only toad native to Puerto Rico and was once thought to be extinct in the wild. Today, the species persists through one of the world's longest-running amphibian reintroduction efforts but remains listed as endangered by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN), threatened by the USFWS, and endangered by DRNA.

Primary threats include habitat loss, invasive species, rising sea levels, and saltwater intrusion into breeding wetlands. The last naturally occurring population remains in the Guánica Commonwealth Forest in southwestern Puerto Rico.

Each year, breeding is carefully timed to align with Puerto Rico's rainy season, when survival conditions are highest for tadpoles released into the wild.

The months-long process involves close coordination with conservation partners to manage recommended breeding pairs for population biodiversity and mimic seasonal environmental changes to encourage breeding behaviors.

Once counted and transported to Puerto Rico, tadpoles are placed into managed aquatic habitats where they are monitored through metamorphosis before dispersing into the surrounding landscape.

Last fall, two Brookfield Zoo Chicago animal care specialists traveled to Puerto Rico to support the PRCTC's field conservation efforts at a release site. Working alongside conservation partners, the team spent a week monitoring toads to better understand habitat use, predator pressures, and environmental conditions affecting survival after reintroduction.

Brookfield Zoo Chicago currently cares for about 20 Puerto Rican crested toads, most of which are cared for behind the scenes as part of conservation efforts.

Earlier this year, guests were able to see two of these toads on habitat in "The Swamp" for the first time, offering a new opportunity to connect with a species that has gained global recognition in recent years. Millions of fans were introduced to Puerto Rico's only native toad as a visual part of Puerto Rican artist Bad Bunny's Grammy Award-winning album "DeBí Tirar Más Fotos."

Guests can learn more about Puerto Rican crested toads and Brookfield Zoo Chicago's conservation efforts by visiting The Swamp, watching the latest episode of Wild Rounds with Dr. Mike, and exploring more at brookfieldzoo.org/animals/puerto-rican-crested-toad.

Banner image: Poison dart frog of the species Ranitomeya aetherea, described from the Juruá River Basin, western Amazon, in 2023. Image courtesy of Alexander Mônico.

Scientists race to study the Amazon’s frogs before they disappear

• The Amazon is home to the world’s greatest amphibian diversity, with an estimated 1,525 species, of which only 810 have been formally described by science.
• This megadiversity is under pressure from climate change and human activity, threatening the risk of species going extinct before scientists even get a chance to describe them.
• Recent research indicates that the combination of increased temperature and exposure to pesticides can alter tadpoles’ growth and development in the Amazon.
• Amphibians play a central role in controlling insects, including disease-transmitting mosquitoes, while also contributing to natural control of agricultural pests — a service valued in Brazil at more than a billion dollars annually.

MANAUS, Brazil — Crouched over the leaf litter, where dry leaves accumulate on the forest floor, a researcher tries to capture a distinct croak using a directional microphone. Identifying the sound of a small frog is often one of the conclusive proofs that a new species has been found. It’s nighttime. He wears long clothing as protection against mosquitoes and ants, and boots to keep his feet dry. Finding amphibians in the Amazon doesn’t require high-tech equipment; it actually dates back to explorations by early-20th-century naturalists.

That’s how biologist Igor Kaefer, a professor at the Federal University of Amazonas in Brazil, describes a typical day of fieldwork in search of amphibians in the Amazon. Kaefer was part of a group responsible for describing Amazophrynella bilinguis in 2019. The very description of the little toad gives an idea of ​​how difficult it is to find: females measure about 2 centimeters (less than an inch), and their brown head and back make them “disappear” among the leaves and branches.

Home to an estimated 1,525 species of amphibians, the Amazon Basin is the most diverse ecosystem in the world when it comes to frogs, an order that includes toads and tree frogs. However, occurrence records have been confirmed for only about 810 of those. So going into the field and finding a new-to-science species is not unlikely.

“In almost every inventory conducted in a remote area, you come back with more than one new species for synthesis,” Kaefer says.

But finding a species in the field, analyzing it, and publishing the description takes “at least five,” he adds.

This constant stream of new-to-science discoveries masks another fact: from 2001 to 2010, only 12% of studies on Brazilian amphibians focused on Amazonian species, compared to 60% in the Atlantic Forest. This shows that studies are concentrated in Brazil’s southeast and points out some of the difficulties of conducting research in the world’s largest tropical rainforest, such as limited infrastructure, hard-to-reach areas, and lack of personnel.

“Biologists who know about amphibians are the real threatened species in the Amazon,” Kaefer says.

More than 2,000 amphibian species are threatened worldwide, making them the most vulnerable group of vertebrates on the planet. Of this total, 48% are directly threatened by habitat loss. This adds another layer of complexity to the knowledge gap regarding Amazonian amphibians: we may be losing entire populations before we even know they exist.

Biologist Guilherme Azambuja searches for tadpoles in a puddle in the Amazon. Image courtesy of Guilherme Azambuja.

Why are there so many species of amphibians in the Amazon?

Viewed from above, the Amazon Rainforest looks like a seamless green block, but it’s composed of a mosaic of distinct habitats: dry land, floodplains, streams, and seasonally flooded areas. This heterogeneity is even more pronounced when it comes to amphibians that are just a few centimeters long. Even in a stretch of forest that seems homogeneous to the human eye, some variations regarding moisture, forest height, soil type, and water type are decisive for amphibians.

“Over millions of years, species have diversified and specialized in these many habitats and in different environmental conditions,” Kaefer says. “This means that they have adapted in very distinct ways to different places. Even within a large group of amphibians, we find species with differences that are very subtle but enough for us to recognize a new one.”

The most significant example of these subtle differences is found in species from the genus Synapturanus, called disc frogs because of their round, flat profiles. These species live underground and have short reproductive periods, which makes them difficult to observe. Lineages that used to be seen as a single species are now only distinguished by approaches that combine genetic examination, vocalization monitoring and bone analysis based on 3D models.

Neblinaphryne imeri, a species described only in 2024, from Pico da Neblina. Image courtesy of Taran Grant.

It was precisely this diversity that attracted Kaefer to the Amazon. Originally from the southern state of Rio Grande do Sul, he arrived in Manaus, the capital of Amazonas state, in 2008 to pursue his doctoral studies, accompanied by his friend, Daiani Kochhann, now a professor at the State University of Vale do Acaraú, in Ceará state. While Kochhann’s career was focused on the study of Amazonian fish, she was convinced by her colleague to invest in the little frogs as well — a field where scientists still have much to discover.

Kochhann says Amazonian diversity isn’t defined only by the sheer number of species, but also includes the richness of reproductive behaviors. She cites the case of frogs, which most schoolchildren are taught go through two life stages, first as tadpoles, before metamorphosing into adults.

“In the Amazon, however, some species face very complex variations regarding this pattern, such as parental care, or tadpoles that hatch from the egg and live freely right away,” Kochhann says. “Some lay eggs in water; others in damp soil. And there are species that we only know in their adult phase, whose tadpoles we have never seen.”

These differences also pose a challenge for Kochhann’s research area of physiology: scientists need to know these organisms’ functions and processes, from cells to tissues and organs. Above all, they need to understand how they function in the face of increasing environmental strain, including climate change impacts.

“When we talk about climate change and amphibians, the big questions are which species will survive, which will not, and how this process will occur,” Kochhann says. “In the case of amphibians, the urgency is greater because they have characteristics that make them especially vulnerable to rising temperatures and drier climates, such as cutaneous respiration, which depends on skin moisture. Having little data on the Amazon means not understanding enough about these processes and risks.”

Data from Brazil’s National Council for Scientific and Technological Development (CNPq) indicate that only five groups in the country’s Northern region, which includes much of the Brazilian Amazon, formally study amphibians in their research; three of them are systematically focused on amphibian ecology and physiology.

A search by Mongabay found 9,062 scientific articles on Amazonian amphibians published in the last 10 years, only 3% of which explicitly describe new species. Climate, on the other hand, has been a central topic in the scientific literature: the keyword comes up in 3,411 of the papers, even though a data gap persists regarding amphibians’ tolerance to higher temperatures and their adaptive capacities.

Adult female of the species Ranitomeya aetherea, described from the Juruá River Basin, western Amazon, in 2023. Image courtesy of Alexander Mônico.

Climate change and pesticides: Emerging extinction risks

Climate change scenarios for the Amazon region include not only hotter days but also more severe periods of drought, as already observed in 2023-2024. Studies indicate that the increase in prolonged drought will cause an increase in habitat loss of up to 33% for frogs.

In addition to this risk, climate change interacts with other factors that also affect amphibians, such as water contamination by pesticides and heavy metals. Biologist Guilherme Azambuja investigates precisely these interactions, which are still little explored in the literature on the Amazon.

“One of the biggest challenges I faced was the lack of studies in this field for tropical environments such as the Amazon,” he says. “We end up resorting to results obtained in Europe or North America, which compromises comparisons with our reality.”

The darker colors show the areas of the planet with higher projected risks for frog species due to increased aridity. Image courtesy of Wu et al., 2024.

In a paper published in February this year, Azambuja tested the isolated effects of warming and exposure to the insecticide methomyl — an extremely toxic substance used in crops, with high water solubility — on tadpoles from two species, Osteocephalus taurinus and Scinax ruber. In a second phase, exposure to methomyl was tested at two temperatures: 26.5° and 30° Celsius (79.7° and 86° Fahrenheit).

In both species, the higher temperatures reduced the animals’ final mass. “When the temperature increases, their metabolism accelerates, hindering mass gain,” Azambuja says.

With higher temperatures and faster metabolism, tadpole respiration also increases, which may explain their greater susceptibility to absorbing substances present in water in warmer scenarios. In the case of O. taurinus, the link was clear: heat doubled methomyl’s lethal toxicity.

But the results also showed there are no absolutes in nature, with species responding differently to multiple stress factors. In terms of lethality, the tree frog S. ruber proved to be sensitive to methomyl regardless of temperature.

For Azambuja, this variation between species is the central point. It is precisely because species diversity is so high that responses to the same conditions also vary. Therefore, the lack of knowledge about these animals and their lifestyles means we can’t fully understand the impacts of these challenges or which species may be at greater risk.

In any case, Azambuja says, adaptation to temperature or substances takes a toll on amphibians, even the most resistant ones. “Body size decreases, resulting in thinner and smaller animals. While they are resistant, they may have lower sexual fitness and face reproductive challenges. Sometimes an animal tolerates warmer environments but remains at a level of stress that may not be sustainable in the long run, leading to organism collapse,” he says.

Harlequin toads of the species Atelopus spumarius, endemic to the Amazon. Image courtesy of Jaime Culebras/ASI.

What are we about to lose?

Making the case for amphibian conservation can be difficult: considered “disgusting” by society, these little frogs face invisible threats, and their contribution to ecosystems is rarely appreciated. At the Federal University of Ceará, Karoline Ceron is trying to change this reality with a powerful argument: money.

“By proposing research to assign economic value to amphibians in Brazil, we want to work alongside those who influence decision-making in the country, considering agribusiness’s major role in policymaking,” she says. “We want to establish a dialogue between two worlds: that of conservation and that of production.”

Still in progress, her research estimates that amphibians help prevent $1.18 billion in agricultural losses in Brazil, simply by consuming insects that attack crops. In soy plantations in the Cerrado biome, for example, amphibians likely save around half a million dollars a year in pesticides, by eating approximately 300 million invertebrates in those areas.

They also play a role in public health, especially in the tropics. With amphibians’ decline, part of the natural control of disease vectors like mosquitoes, which can transmit malaria and dengue fever, becomes lost. Research conducted across Central America found an increase in malaria cases related to the loss of amphibian populations.

“There is a synergistic risk, therefore,” Ceron says. “Loss of amphibian populations can lead to increased use of pesticides and insecticides in both rural and urban areas, which in turn would create new contamination and environmental poisoning.”

This story was first published here in Portuguese on April 13, 2026.

Banner: Secretarybird. Photo: Ronelle Visagie, Author provided (no reuse)

Birds of prey in South Africa are in trouble – a study analyses data from 16 years of road counts

Birds of prey and vultures (raptors) play a vital role in ecosystems, both as top predators and key scavengers. However, compared to many other bird species, raptor populations are declining faster. This is because they need large areas to live in, have low population densities, and reproduce slowly. For these reasons they are vulnerable to human impacts like farming with pesticides, electrocution, collision with wind turbines, or poaching.

In many cases, by the time scientists and conservationists fully understand how bad the declines are, it may be too late to act. Thus, having good population monitoring is vital to act as an early warning system of declines. Many countries in the global south host important populations of raptors but lack effective monitoring programmes.

Africa is an important continent for raptor diversity. Several studies across Africa have used road counts (counting birds from repeated transects across routes) to monitor how raptor populations have changed over time. A recent study went one step further, combining trends from these different surveys from across Africa to better understand these changes at a pan-African scale. Unfortunately, no data from South Africa were available to be incorporated into this analysis.

Monitoring on the road.

In our recent study we took advantage of data that was collected by one dedicated fieldworker, Ronelle Visagie, who drove nearly 400,000 km (the distance from Earth to the moon) across the central area of South Africa (see map) between 2009 and 2025, while she worked for the Birds of Prey Programme of the Endangered Wildlife Trust.

Map of the study area showing the distribution of all road counts conducted between 2009 and 2025. The black polygon indicates the core survey area.

During these 16 years, Ronelle counted all the raptors and large birds that she saw on these work trips. Comparing how the rate of these observations (numbers of individuals per 100km driven) changed over time allowed us to explore species population trends. We had enough data to examine trends for 18 raptors and eight other large bird species over this period. Unfortunately, we did not find a good news story.

These road counts revealed that 50% of the species (13 out of 26) declined significantly, while only three species (12%) showed significant increases. The remaining ten species (38%) showed no significant trends (see Figure 2).

The declining trends raise serious concerns about the conservation status of several species in a region known to host important raptor populations. Thus, urgent conservation actions are needed, especially for species declining by more than 50%. Given that several of these species are not currently listed as threatened either globally or regionally, their conservation status may need to be reassessed.

Fig.2: Estimated population change for 26 species from road counts between 2009 and 2025 in South Africa. (a) Negative and (b) positive trends. The dashed vertical black line indicates a −50% population change. Author provided (no reuse)

Trends in raptor populations

According to our results, 42% of the assessed species declined by more than 50% in the last 16 years.

Notable declines included all of the three migratory species assessed (lesser kestrel, amur falcon and steppe buzzard). These trends match other studies from their breeding grounds in the northern hemisphere, which also suggested declines. Protecting migratory species is especially challenging because action may be needed in breeding areas, non-breeding areas, and along migration routes, where the threats they face may differ.

We also found declines of several resident raptors, including jackal buzzard, Verreaux’s eagle and secretarybird. Populations of these species declined by over 50% in our study region.

In contrast, populations of white-necked raven, greater kestrels, and white-backed vulture increased. The latter is a critically endangered species, but seems to be increasing within our study area.

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Read more: Nigeria’s Hadejia wetlands are a vital stopover for migrating birds: new survey records species found in the park

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Amur Falcon. Ronelle Visagie, Author provided (no reuse)

Some of the trends we detected were similar to a recent study that explored raptor population trends from across Africa using similar approaches to our study. For example, our findings of large declines for secretarybird and lesser kestrel were very similar to those reported in Kenya and Botswana. Additionally, similar population changes for secretarybird were detected during winter (but not summer) using road counts in the Nama Karoo (a major part of our study area) during the period just before our study (a 61% decline between the late 1980s and early 2010s). This suggests that the decline detected earlier may have continued into the mid-2020s.

Secretarybird. Megan Murgatroyd, Author provided (no reuse)

We compared the direction of trends (whether species numbers were going up or down) from our road counts and the Southern African Bird Atlas Project (SABAP2). But only about half of the trends agreed between the two methods (road counts and the bird atlas). Species with consistent trends between the methods included amur falcon and lesser kestrel – both showing declines – and greater kestrel and white-backed vulture – both showing increases. Species with inconsistent trends all showed decreases according to our road counts but increases according to the bird atlas project. These included Ludwig’s bustard, blue crane, secretarybird, black-winged kite, and southern pale chanting goshawk.

If we assume that our road counts trends are reliable, these findings suggest that although the bird atlas project data can provide valuable information on the changes in distribution of birds, atlas data may be less well suited to capture changes in abundance at large spatial scales and across multiple species.

Across Africa, declines in birds of prey are often linked to human population growth, agricultural expansion and climate change. In our study area, there have been no major recent changes in land use or population density, but more subtle or long-term human impacts may be driving these changes.

Conflicts between people and raptors, including illegal killings, could play a role. Climate change and infrastructure like power lines and wind farms are adding further pressure by fragmenting aerial habitat and affecting survival and reproduction.

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Read more: Finding space for both wind farms and eagles in South Africa

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Trends in human populations

Ronelle Visagie. Author provided (no reuse)

Human populations in Africa are expected to grow significantly over the next three decades, which will increase pressure on biodiversity.

Given the projected human population growth in Africa (79%), and a corresponding rise in demand for resources and energy, threats to vulnerable bird species are likely to get worse.

Gareth Tate. Author provided (no reuse)

It is therefore essential that we have reliable tools to monitor species trends and better understand the impacts of these pressures.

This is crucial for understanding the current biodiversity crisis and preventing severe wildlife loss.

Ronelle Visagie and Gareth Tate of the Endangered Wildlife Trust contributed to this research.