cross-posted from: https://lemmygrad.ml/post/12092333

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.

cross-posted from: https://lemmygrad.ml/post/12092063

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.

cross-posted from: https://news.abolish.capital/post/61237

European astronomers on Wednesday urged the US Federal Communications Commission to block a plan led by SpaceX CEO Elon Musk to launch a total of 1.7 million satellites into the Earth's orbit, warning that the use of so many extremely bright satellites—partially to support artificial intelligence data centers—would have “devastating consequences for astronomy.”

SpaceX's Starlink telecommunications program has already rapidly increased the number of satellites orbiting the Earth, with the total now exceeding 14,000 since 2019.

Now the space exploration company led by Musk—a former special government employee under the Trump administration—has plans to send 1 million more satellites into space, which would "significantly alter the appearance of the sky," according to a new study by the European Southern Observatory (ESO).

Scientists found that 100,000 is the maximum number of satellites—ones that are faint enough to be invisible to the naked eye—that can orbit the Earth in order to allow astronomers to continue observing the sky with modern telescopes.

In addition to Musk's launches, the US startup Reflect Orbital has proposed launching a constellation of 50,000 "very large mirror-like satellites to provide sunlight at night," said ESO.

"These satellites would be the brightest ever in orbit, with damaging consequences for dark skies on Earth," said the observatory. "Seen from within a reflected beam, the satellite delivering sunlight would appear four times brighter than the full Moon. Even if no satellite points its beam directly at an observer, each would be as bright as the planet Venus, the ‘morning star.' From a light-polluted city, like Munich, Germany, these hundreds of satellites would be the only ‘stars’ visible in the night sky."

The startup E-Space and two Chinese constellations, CTC-1 and 2, would also add hundreds of thousands of satellites into orbit.

The companies' satellite project could hinder scientists' ability to observe far-away galaxies, Earth-like planets near other stars, and asteroids that could potentially endanger the planet.

"Satellites, illuminated by the sun, are much brighter than distant galaxies. When a satellite crosses what we observe, it makes a bright streak on our image, zapping whatever is behind it," said ESO astronomer Olivier Hainaut, who led the study.

Hainaut noted that the planned launches could have economic and ecological impacts on the planet and humankind as well as harming astronomy.

Extreme light pollution from the bright satellites could disrupt people's biological clocks and ecosystems across the planet, and the satellites could also directly impact air quality due to the numerous launches required to send them into space and the "atmospheric pollution caused as they burn up on reentry at the end of life."

ESO conducted the research as the FCC considers applications from SpaceX and Reflect Orbital regarding the satellite launches

“The FCC received over 1800 comments regarding Reflect Orbital and nearly 1,500 comments on the application by SpaceX,” said ESO institutional affairs officer Betty Kioko. “The ball is now in the FCC’s court, and we wait to see the determinations they make on both filings. For optical astronomy, this is an existential threat, and we hope that the regulators will share that view.”

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From Common Dreams via This RSS Feed.

cross-posted from: https://lemmygrad.ml/post/11897776

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

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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.

cross-posted from: https://lemmygrad.ml/post/11897429

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.”

spoiler

A research team from ETH Zurich and the University of Zurich (UZH) has developed a novel approach to treating spinal cord injuries: controllable microrobots deliver stem cells directly to the site of an injury, where they promote nerve cell regeneration. In animal experiments, this approach significantly improved mobility.

Spinal cord injuries can have devastating consequences for those affected. Nerve cells in the spinal cord rarely regenerate naturally, while scarring often prevents the regrowth of nerve fibres. Modern therapies attempt to influence implanted stem cells using electrical stimulation to promote the growth of new nerve cells. This approach has several drawbacks: it requires implanted electrodes, and the transplanted cells do not always survive or integrate properly into the existing tissue.

Cells and nanoparticles cleverly combined

Researchers in Zurich are pursuing a new approach, which they have published in the journal Nature Materials. This involves combining therapeutic stem cells with magnetoelectric nanoparticles in such a way that the cells can be guided magnetically to the precise site of an injury and stimulate the stem cells to accelerate repair.

To achieve this, the researchers created a biohybrid microrobot, which combines living neural progenitor cells (NPCs) with a technical component in the form of specially engineered nanoparticles. The NPCs are derived from induced pluripotent stem cells (iPS cells), which are regular body cells reprogrammed in the laboratory to regain stem cell properties. These iPS cells have the potential to differentiate into various types of nervous system cells.

The nanoparticles consist of two layers: an inner layer that responds to magnetic fields and an outer layer that converts this response into electrical signals. By combining these special nanoparticles with the progenitor cells, the researchers fabricate what are known as NPCbots.

A lab the size of a chip

The researchers create the NPCbots in specialised labs on a surface measuring one square centimetre. This process can be illustrated graphically. “We place a reservoir in the centre where we trap the cells. Then we inject the nanoparticles and wait for the two components to bind,” explains Professor Salvador Pané i Vidal of the Multi-Scale Robotics Lab at ETH Zurich.

After just thirty minutes, the NPCbots – each around six micrometres in size – are ready for use. “To scale up fabrication, we operate several lab-on-chip systems in parallel,” explains Hao Ye, senior scientist and the study’s first author. Depending on the test in question, the ETH researchers need hundreds of thousands of microrobots for cell-based studies and several million for animal experiments.

Injured zebrafish swim again

The team tested the NPCbots on zebrafish larvae with spinal cord injuries. The microrobots were injected precisely into the site of the fish’s injury, and electromagnetic fields were generated. For Pané Vidal, teamwork was vital to the experiment’s success: “Stephan Neuhauss and Jingjing Zang at the University of Zurich did extremely valuable work. They enabled us to demonstrate, in a well-characterised regenerative model system, how quickly cells differentiate using our method and how our bots repair the spinal cord.” In just three days, the zebrafish exhibited nearly normal swimming and exploratory behaviour.

The researchers also tested the NPCbots on mice with completely severed spinal cords. Here, too, the results were very promising: after 28 days, the animals’ nerve cells had reconnected at the site of the injury. During this period, the treated mice exhibited increasingly normal movement patterns – their gait, stride length, coordination and exploratory behaviour improved significantly.

This result is particularly significant because, unlike in zebrafish, the mouse spinal cord does not normally regenerate. The treatment was well tolerated by the animals, with no evidence of any adverse effects or immune reactions.

Success through minimally invasive stimulation

These successes were made possible through electrical stimulation of stem cells, greatly enhancing their differentiation after transplantation. In this process, nanoparticles convert magnetic signals directly into electrical impulses that stimulate specific stem cells. When employing NPCbots, researchers need only apply external magnetic fields around the injury site, eliminating the need for implanted electrodes or cables in previous approaches. This is crucial because the spinal cord is extremely sensitive. “Microrobotic guidance makes the treatment more precise and minimally invasive,” Hao explains.

Magnetic fields are particularly well-suited for stimulating stem cells because they can penetrate tissue easily, and their frequency and field strength can be flexibly adjusted to the specific application. Once the progenitor cells have been stimulated and differentiated into nerve cells, the NPCbots essentially dissolve within the tissue. The researchers expect the nanoparticles to be stable and minimally reactive due to their barium titanate coating. Further studies will determine whether and how the particles are degraded or excreted over the long term.

The idea can be expanded as required

The results from animal experiments are extremely promising, but further research will be needed before NPCbots can be tested in humans. “In addition to many clinical aspects, we first need to test which magnetic fields work best in humans and determine the optimal stimulation duration,” Hao explains. Nevertheless, the researchers are already considering further applications: “The reproducible and scalable production of microrobots using our lab-on-a-chip system demonstrates that the platform’s application potential extends beyond basic research,” explains Professor Pané i Vidal. It could also be adapted for other biomedical applications – for example, in cardiology, oncology, wound healing and other targeted regenerative therapies. This could make these treatments safer, more controllable and more effective.

"Capitalism charging a fortune to cure you? With stuff that has scary side effects?"

"Have no fear! Now you can buy a bunch of shit that doesn't work, from us! We're also unregulated as fuck so who knows if this stuff messes up your kidneys."

The worst thing, and anyone who had parents who fell for these scams growing up will know this, is parents who will try to 'cure' their neurodivergent kids with rat butt herb or whatever. Have fun spending your formative years incorrectly medicated!

Sure, yes I know there are natural medicines that work for certain things. But the industry as a whole is so gross and predatory. Every so often they'll 'discover' some ancient remedy so they have something new to market. Selling crystals and sage to very ill people who need real treatment. Exploiting sick people who are desperate for a cure is low as hell and I'm surprised (but not surprised) that they can just sell things that do not do the thing they say they do.

cross-posted from: https://lemmygrad.ml/post/11869863

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This spectacular pit viper was among 11 new species that were discovered in Cambodia’s karsts — ancient limestone cliffs with hidden cave systems. While its official name has not been decided, the “pit” refers to the heat-sensitive organ on its head, which it uses to detect and track down warm-blooded prey. Phyroum Chourn/Fauna & Flora

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Conservationists Sothearen Thi and Phyroum Chourn from the charity Fauna & Flora search for reptiles and amphibians deep inside a karst. For two years, the wildlife non-profit surveyed more than 60 caves across western Cambodia in an effort to document life in these unique ecosystems and ensure their protection. Manita Hem/Fauna & Flora

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Named after the Hindu god of destruction, Gekko shiva was another unique reptile found in the surveys. It was discovered in early 2025 in a Thai cave temple dedicated to the deity. Researchers warn that its striking appearance makes it a target for the exotic pet trade, and giving it a formal name is the first step toward legal protection. Manita Hem/Fauna & Flora

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Pablo Sinovas, who led the Fauna & Flora survey team across the karsts, inspects a young reticulated python. This species can grow over 7 metres, making it the world’s longest snake. Manita Hem/Fauna & Flora

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This gecko species, found across different karsts, is new to science. It belongs to the Gehyra genus — geckos with powerful claws and sticky toepads. These help them climb almost any surface. Hun Seiha/Fauna & Flora

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The ornate flying snake glides from tree to tree by flattening its rib cage and twisting through the air like a shimmering ribbon. It is increasingly threatened by illegal trade, as its vivid colors make it popular amongst reptile collectors. Phyroum Chourn/Fauna & Flora

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The Cambodian blue-crested agama was also identified in the surveys. This lizard was only recognized as a new species in 2021, and it can change its vibrant colours when threatened. Phyroum Chourn/Fauna & Flora

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Karsts are not only ecologically rich but also valued by nearby communities as sacred spaces. Many caves have become Buddhist temples, attracting worshippers and tourists alike. Phyroum Chourn/Fauna & Flora

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Despite their extraordinary biodiversity, Cambodia’s karst landscapes are unprotected, often quarried and blasted for their limestone to produce cement. Fauna & Flora warns that because some species exist only in one hill, destroying a single formation can drive species to extinction — including some we know nothing about yet. Phyroum Chourn/Fauna & Flora

Pit viper, flying snake and geckos among new species uncovered in Cambodian caves | CNN

New species uncovered in Cambodian caves

Cambodia’s largely unexplored limestone caves stretch for thousands of miles, are home to countless undiscovered species and host unique ecosystems, with creatures found nowhere else on Earth.

Now, a new survey of caves in the northwestern province of Battambang has uncovered a range of species that are new to science, including a turquoise pit viper, a flying snake, several geckos, two micro-snails and two millipedes.

The viper and three of the newly discovered gecko species are still being formally named and characterized. The other finds have been officially recognized over the course of the biodiversity survey, which explored 64 caves across 10 hills between November 2023 and July 2025, and was published in a report Monday.

Each hill and cave in Cambodia’s rocky karst landscape –– a term for a landscape created when rocks break down, forming large cave springs, sinking streams and sinkholes –– is isolated from the others. Each performs as its own individual “island laboratory” of evolution, holding numerous distinct life forms that have adapted to their niche habitat, according to UK-based conservation charity Fauna & Flora, which led the survey along with Cambodia’s Ministry of Environment and field experts.

A flying snake, documented on the expedition.

“Think of it as their own vignette of biodiversity, where nature is performing the same experiment over and over again independently,” evolutionary biologist Lee Grismer, professor of biology at La Sierra University in California, who supported the survey team, said in a statement.

“We go to these separate places and analyse the DNA of the species, and we see how the experiment has run. Some look alike, some look different, and by analysing this we can get an idea of what the driving forces are behind the way they evolve,” he added.

For instance, while researchers identified one species of the striped Kamping Poi bent-toed gecko, named Cyrtodactylus kampingpoiensis, during fieldwork in 2024, they found four different populations evolving in different ways.

“If we are truly going to conserve the biodiversity on this planet, we need to understand what is there,” Grismer continued. “We can’t protect something if we don’t know it exists.”

Globally threatened species such as the Sunda pangolin, green peafowl, long-tailed macaque and northern pig-tailed macaque were also found in the landscape during the latest survey.

Conservation biologist Pablo Sinovas led the Fauna & Flora team in Cambodia, working with local researchers to get an idea of the terrain during the day and –– the “fun part” –– look for creatures such as snakes and geckos at night, “when they are most active, when they come out of hiding,” he told CNN.

The team would head out after sunset and spend hours traversing “sharp, rocky terrain” with torches, “looking around every crevice, looking around caves in the landscape, rocks, branches, vegetation, really everywhere. It was kind of a nice search party,” said Sinovas, who is now a senior program manager at the charity.

Some caves in the region hold up to one million bats, although the research team did not enter caves with large bat colonies due to health concerns, according to the report.

Karst landscapes make up about 9% of Cambodia’s land area, at 20,000 square kilometers (or 7,722 square miles), said the report, which outlined that “a large portion of this is still unknown to science.”

Fourteen caves that had not previously been surveyed were registered on one karst hill in the Banan district of the Battambang Province.

“There is more exploration to be done,” said Sinovas, adding that they have only “scratched the surface” in terms of the biodiversity that is waiting to be discovered in the ecosystems of the wider landscape in Cambodia.

Laang Spean Cave in Battambang Province, north-western Cambodia.

As well as hosting a range of species, many of the caves are used as shrines, or for meditation and other rituals, and are visited by tourists and pilgrims, according to the report.

Even so, karst habitats are under threat from poorly planned extraction for cement, as well as overtourism, wildlife hunting, logging and wildfires.

“There is growing demand for cement and karst limestone is useful for the making of cement and, so, karst provides a very important raw material,” said Sinovas.

“But, obviously, if you destroy an area where certain species live, and those species don’t live anywhere else, then you would automatically potentially lead to the extinction of species –– in some cases, of species that haven’t even been described yet,” he continued.

“So, we are working with (the) government to ensure that these important areas are better protected,” Sinovas said, adding that there are ongoing discussions regarding “giving this area some sort of protective status, so that they can be preserved into the future.”

cross-posted from: https://lemmygrad.ml/post/11869711

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.

cross-posted from: https://lemmygrad.ml/post/11848895

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.

cross-posted from: https://lemmygrad.ml/post/11842509

'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.

Getty Images

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.

cross-posted from: https://lemmygrad.ml/post/11831906

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

cross-posted from: https://lemmygrad.ml/post/11831859

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.

https://sci-bot.ru/

kinda like perplexity with scientific papers in sci-hub database, what it writes is irrelevant but pulled citations are neat

cross-posted from: https://lemmygrad.ml/post/11799050

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.