Creature: Environmental Monitors/BioIndicators

What creature is able to control blood flow to their extremities, has eyes adapted for underwater vision, and spends 75% of its life at sea?

Now that I’ve been writing for Biodiversity for a Livable Climate for a while, I’ve received several requests from friends and family for creatures to feature. This piece is the result of a request from my close friend’s two children, who, after listening to their parents read my feature on sloths, emphatically asked if I could write about penguins next.

Who am I to deny such an impassioned request?

While many penguins live in more temperate climates, today we’re putting the spotlight on the species that live in Antarctica and its surrounding islands.

When people share their ideas with me, it always gives me inspiration and prompts me to ask myself:

“What does this creature have to teach me about its life on Earth?” If you’re a penguin, the answer is, “quite a lot!”

Meet Our Flightless Friends

If you play charades and act out the word “penguin,” you will probably start waddling, right? While the tendency to teeter back and forth on land is one of penguins’ most widely known (and adorable) characteristics, there is a lot more to them than that. Their countershaded plumage, flippers, and underwater vision are all features that make life as a penguin possible – and unique. But before we get to that, let me introduce you to our flightless friends.

Out of the 18 species of penguins, only eight of them live in the Antarctic. Out of those eight, only two species, Emperor and Adélie penguins, live exclusively on the ice shelves of the Antarctic continent. The rest of these cold climate birds – Macaroni, Gentoo, Chinstrap, Southern and Northern Rockhopper, and King penguins – live on the Antarctic Peninsula and surrounding sub-Antarctic islands.

In addition to their typical black and white feathers, many have distinctive features like red-orange beaks, or pale pink feet. Red eyes and yellow crests identify species like Macaroni penguins, and King and Emperor penguins can be recognized by the orange and yellow plumage on their chests and cheeks.

Here’s something you might not know: one in every 50,000 penguins are born with brown, cream-colored feathers rather than with black plumage. This washed-out look is called isabelline. While it’s not the same as albinism (which is defined by a complete lack of pigmentation) isabellinism is the partial loss of pigment.

The Birds that Swim

Penguins are highly specialized for life in ocean water, and have many adaptations that suit their lifestyle in their environment. These beautiful birds have streamlined bodies that are equipped with a well-developed rib cage, wings that have evolved into flippers with shorter and stouter bones, and a pronounced keel, or breastbone, which provides an anchor for the pectoral muscles that move the flippers. Penguins might not be able to fly in the air, but they propel themselves with incredible agility into “flight” underwater with their flippers. In the water, Gentoo penguins (pictured below) are the fastest of all penguins, and of all swimming birds. While searching for food or escaping predators, they reach speeds up to 36 km (22 miles) per hour.

Their eyes, which are their primary means of locating evasive prey and avoiding predators and fishing nets, are adapted for underwater vision. And these aren’t the only traits that make penguins incredibly well-fit for aquatic life. Their short feathers, which minimize friction and turbulence as they swim, are denser than most other birds, with up to 100 feathers per square inch in some species, such as the Emperor penguin. This close spacing helps keep penguins warm, preserving a layer of air under their plumage that not only insulates them from the cold water, but also provides them with buoyancy.

Penguins also conserve heat in other ways. They possess this remarkable vascular countercurrent heat exchanger called a humeral arterial plexus – a system of heat exchange between opposing flows of blood. This allows cold blood to absorb heat from outflowing blood that has already been warmed, limiting heat loss in their flippers and feet, ultimately helping these small animals survive in such cold.

What Else Do Penguins Have to Teach Us?

We already know that most penguins have darker feathers on their backs and wings, and lighter-colored feathers on their bellies, but why? Called countershading, it’s actually a form of camouflage. For predators like orcas, it is difficult to look up from below and distinguish the white belly of a penguin from the water’s surface and sky above it. Similarly, from above, the bird’s dark back blends into the darker ocean depths. It’s speculated that birds with extreme plumage irregularity, like isabelline penguins that don’t have the advantage of camouflage, have a decreased life expectancy as a result of increased predation. However, research shows that isabelline individuals have survived for many years.

While most penguins share incubation duties (one parent broods while the other forages at sea, switching when the other returns) species like the Emperor and King penguins have unique strategies where the males take on greater, or even sole, responsibility. But, the parents’ warm bodies are not the only thing protecting their babies: the eggs of cold-climate penguins are well-adapted to their adverse nesting environment too, with thick shells that reduce the chick’s dehydration and the risk of breakage. Once a clutch hatches and the parents go out to hunt, on their way back to their colony, some penguins use the sun as a directional aid while others rely on landmarks or even the Earth’s magnetic field to navigate, like a built-in gps. Once safely on land, parents use unique vocal calls to locate and reunite with their baby.

Did you know that even though a group of penguins is called a colony, they can also be called a “waddle” on land, and a “raft” in the water? Still, penguins don’t waddle all the time. Besides their awkward and amusing side to side rock, penguins also jump with both feet together to move more quickly across steep or rocky terrain. Can you guess what the Southern and Northern Rockhopper penguins were named for? If penguins want to conserve energy while moving quickly, they’ll do something called tobogganing, sliding on their bellies across the snow while using their feet to propel and steer themselves.

What is the Penguin’s Role in its Ecosystem?

Regardless of which ecosystem a creature calls home, Earth’s organisms always have a more significant role in their environment than we first realize. Penguins are an important part of land and ocean ecosystems. Adult penguins are prey for sharks, orcas, and leopard seals, and penguin eggs/chicks serve to sustain other land predators like pumas, mongooses, and many seabirds like skuas, petrels, and sheathbills. Our aquatic fliers use their powerful jaws and spiny tongues to grip their quarry, eating krill, small fish, crabs, and squid, and getting nutrients from the rich, well-oxygenated waters of their ecosystem. Penguins then in turn fertilize the landscape with the nutrients like nitrogen, phosphorus, and organic carbon from their ocean foraging.

Penguins also play a key role in their colony’s survival. They are incredibly social creatures, and as a result of the extreme Antarctic conditions they live in, huddle together to stay warm during violent winter storms, even rotating so each penguin gets a turn at the center of the heat pack. Many penguin species form long-term pair bonds, fostering better collaboration, sharing of responsibilities, and improving the success of breeding over time. But, some have high divorce rates, switching mates in different breeding seasons.

Threats

Most penguin specie populations are declining, with nine out of the 18 species classified as endangered or vulnerable on the IUCN Red List.

While the Antarctic Treaty has provided some legal protections for penguins, these birds are still at risk. You might have already guessed one of the reasons why: climate change. The rapid increase in temperature around the globe is altering oceanic conditions and melting sea ice, threatening penguins’ food supply, breeding grounds, and the delicate natural infrastructure of water and ice that sustains their way of life. In fact, we’ve recorded a correlation between record low sea ice in 2022 and the first-ever known large-scale breeding failure of Emperor penguins, an episode in which few (or nearly none at all) chicks are born.

Penguins are also at risk from pollution, caused by the usual suspects: littering and ecological disasters like oil spills. Development projects threaten nesting sites, and unsustainable and irresponsible fishing practices increase competition for available food in the sea.

And just last year, H5N1, so-called “bird flu,” was detected in the Antarctic region. Due to their dense breeding practice, the looming threat to penguin colonies is significant if the virus continues to spread around the region and continent.

Life on Earth

Some of these risks are more dangerous or difficult to combat than others, but doing our part to help protect penguins is not a hopeless cause. We can support marine protected areas that provide refuge for vulnerable species like penguins and conservation organizations that focus on preserving penguin populations and their habitats. We can spread awareness about the threats they face, advocate for the nature-based solutions that keep the Antarctic cool, and do our part to keep our oceans clean.

I’ve come to understand that these penguins that dwell in some of the coldest places on Earth are some of most resilient animal species on Earth. Despite the challenges their environment throws at them, they are strong and patient, and work together to survive and thrive.

Now, join me if you will in taking a deep, collective breath before I present this to some tough critics, my friend’s children. 🙂

Sources and Further Reading

• Penguins (Family Spheniscidae) · iNaturalist 
• Penguin Facts: Diet, Behavior, Habitat & Conservation | IFAW 
• Penguins Facts and Information | United Parks & Resorts
• Penguin | Habitat, Species, Predators, & Facts | Britannica 
• Penguin | Species | WWF 
• World Penguin Day 2024: 6 Facts About Endangered Penguin Species | Earth.Org
• Record low 2022 Antarctic sea ice led to catastrophic breeding failure of emperor penguins | Communications Earth & Environment 
• Sub-Antarctic and Antarctic Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza H5N1 Monitoring Project | SCAR First penguins die in sub-Antarctic of deadly H5N1 bird flu strain | Antarctica | The Guardian

What plant thrives in the harshest landscapes, conserving water like a desert camel, and produces a sweet yet spiky fruit enjoyed for centuries? The Prickly Pear Cactus!

When I’m in the south of France, nothing makes me happier than spending the day by the ocean, taking in the salty breeze and strolling along the littoral. After a long afternoon on the beach, as I make my way home, I always notice prickly pear cacti scattered throughout the local fauna. 

Prickly pear cacti are everywhere in the south of France, where I’m from. My mom, who grew up in Corsica, used to tell me stories about how she’d collect and eat the fruit as a kid. So, naturally, last summer, when I spotted some growing along the path home from the beach, I figured—why not try one myself? 

Big mistake. 

Without gloves (rookie move), I grabbed one with my bare hands. The next 20 minutes were spent with my friends painstakingly plucking hundreds of tiny, nearly invisible needles out of my fingertips. The pain wasn’t unbearable, but watching my hands transform into a pincushion was… unsettling. And to top it all off? The fruit wasn’t even ripe.

For the longest time, I just assumed prickly pears were native to the Mediterranean. They grow everywhere, you can buy them at local markets, and my mom spoke about them like they were an age-old Corsican tradition. But a few weeks ago, while researching cochineal bugs (parasitic insects that live on prickly pear cacti), I discovered something surprising—prickly pears aren’t native to the south of France at all. They actually originate from Central and South America, and were introduced to the Mediterranean from the Americas centuries ago. They’ve since become naturalized.

Curious to learn more, I dove into the biology of prickly pears—and it turns out, these cacti are far more than just a tasty (and slightly dangerous) snack. Their survival strategies, adaptations, and ecological impact make them one of the most fascinating plants out there.

Prickly pear cacti belong to the Cactaceae family, and they’re absolute survivors. In spring and summer, they produce vibrant flowers that bloom directly on their paddles, eventually transforming into edible berries covered in sneaky little thorns (trust me, I learned that the hard way). 

These cacti thrive in drylands but adapt surprisingly well to different climates. They prefer warm summers, cool dry winters, and temperatures above -5°C (23°F).Their ability to store water efficiently and withstand long dry periods has earned them the nickname ‘the camel of the plant world.’ They can lose up to 80-90% of their total water content and still bounce back, an adaptation that allows them to endure long periods of drought.

They are designed to make the most of their access to water whenever they get the chance. The cactus can develop different types of roots depending on what they need to survive, making them masters of adaptation. One of their coolest tricks? “Rain roots.” These special roots pop up within hours of light rainfall to soak up water—then vanish once the soil dries out. 

And then there are their infamous spines. Prickly pears have two kinds: large protective spines and tiny, hair-like glochids. The glochids are the real troublemakers—easily dislodged, nearly invisible, and an absolute nightmare to remove if they get stuck in your skin. (Again, learned this the hard way.)

Nopal (Cactus Pads) – A Nutrient Powerhouse 

The term “nopal” refers to both the prickly pear cactus and its pads. It originates from the Nahuatl word nohpalli, which specifically describes the plant’s flat, fleshy segments. 

These pads are highly nutritious and well-suited for human consumption, packed with essential vitamins and minerals. They are especially rich in calcium, making them an excellent dietary alternative for populations with high rates of lactose intolerance, such as in India. 

Beyond calcium, nopales also provide amino acids and protein, offering a valuable plant-based protein source. They are rich in fiber, vitamins, and minerals, making their nutritional profile comparable to fruits like apples and oranges, explaining their long-standing role in traditional cuisine. From soups and stews to salads and marmalades, they are a versatile ingredient enjoyed in a variety of dishes 

Ever wondered how to clean and grill a prickly pear pad at home?

The Fruit – Sweet & Versatile 

Prickly pears produce colorful, juicy fruits called tunas, which range in color from white and yellow to deep red and orange as they ripen. Their flavor is often described as a mix between watermelon and berries, while others compare it to pomegranate. Either way, they make for a delicious and refreshing snack. 

But before you take a bite, be sure to peel them carefully. If you don’t remove the outer layer properly, you might end up with tiny spines lodged in your lips, tongue, and throat (which is about as fun as it sounds). Once cleaned, the fruit is used in jams, juices, and is even pickled!

Prickly pear cacti produce stunning flowers that attract a variety of pollinators, particularly bees. Some specialist pollinators have evolved to depend exclusively on prickly pear flowers as their sole pollen source, highlighting an amazing co-evolutionary relationship. One fascinating example is a variety that has evolved to be pollinated exclusively by hummingbirds, demonstrating the plant’s remarkable ecological flexibility. 

If you’d like to see this incredible interaction for yourself, check out the following footage of a hummingbird feeding on a prickly pear flower. Though the video quality is low, the enthusiasm of the couple filming it makes up for it! 🙂

Another fascinating feature of prickly pear flowers are their thermotactic anthers. Okay so yeah, that’s a bit of a mouthful. Basically, the part of the flower responsible for producing pollen, the anthers, have a unique ability to respond to temperature changes—releasing pollen only when conditions are just right for pollination. Prickly pear flowers achieve this through movement; the anthers physically curl over to deposit pollen directly onto visiting pollinators. 

You can even see this in action yourself! Try gently tapping an open flower, and watch as it instinctively delivers its pollen like a built-in pollen delivery system. 

Once pollinated, the flowers transform into fruit, which then serve as an essential food source for birds and small mammals. These animals help disperse the seeds, allowing new cacti to grow in different areas. But prickly pears don’t just rely on seeds for reproduction, they also have an incredible ability to clone themselves. If a pad breaks off and lands in the right conditions, it can root itself and grow into an entirely new cactus. Talk about resilience! 

Like most cacti, prickly pears are tough survivors, thriving even in degraded landscapes. But they go a step further, not just enduring harsh conditions, but actively helping to restore them. The plant’s roots act as natural barriers, preventing erosion, locking in moisture, and enriching the soil with organic matter. Studies show that areas dense with prickly pears experience significantly less soil degradation, proving their role in restoring fragile land. 

They also improve soil structure, making it lighter and more fertile, which boosts microbial activity and essential nutrients. They act as natural detoxifiers, absorbing pollutants like heavy metals and petroleum-based toxins and offering an eco-friendly way to restore contaminated soils. 

A Tale of Two Ecosystems

Prickly pear plantations are powerful carbon sinks, pulling CO₂ from the air and storing it in the soil. In fact, research shows that prickly pear cultivations in Mexico sequester carbon at rates comparable to forests. A major factor? The cactus stimulates microbial activity in the soil, a key driver of carbon storage. 

When farmed sustainably, the CO₂ prickly pears absorb offset the greenhouse gases emitted during cultivation.

Prickly pear cacti have immense capability for land restoration and carbon sequestration, but this potential varies dramatically depending on how they are introduced and managed, and where. In some regions, like Ethiopia, they serve as a lifeline for communities facing desertification. In others, like South Africa, they’ve become invasive, disrupting native ecosystems. 

By exploring these two contrasting case studies, we can see how the same plant can either heal or harm the land—and why responsible management is key. 

Tigray, Ethiopia: A Natural Fit for Harsh Climates 

In Ethiopia, where over half the land experiences water shortages, the prickly pear cactus has become indispensable since its introduction in the 19th century. Arid lands are notorious for unpredictable rainfall, prolonged droughts, and poor soils. But the prickly pear cactus defies these challenges. Requiring minimal water, it provides a reliable food source for both humans and animals, making it an essential crop for small-scale farmers in dry regions. 

Prickly pear pads are a crucial livestock feed during droughts, providing moisture and nutrients when other forage is scarce. While it cannot be used as the sole source of nutrition for most ruminants, it’s definitely a necessary supplement in times of drought. 

Additionally, the plant’s dense growth creates natural barriers, curbing overgrazing and helping native vegetation recover. 

As a food source, prickly pear can be used to supplement human diet. The cactus is an alternative to water-intensive cereals like wheat and barley. With higher biomass yields and significantly lower water requirements, it offers a sustainable solution to food security in drought-prone areas. 

Unfortunately, prickly pear cultivation in Ethiopia is under threat from invasive cochineal infestations. These cochineal insects, originally used for dye production, were later introduced outside their native range, where they’ve become agricultural pests, devastating cactus populations.

South Africa: When Prickly Pear Becomes a Problem 

While the cactus is a valuable resource in some regions, in others, it becomes an invasive species, altering ecosystems and threatening native plants. 

In South Africa, prickly pears were introduced by European settlers, but without natural predators to control them, they spread aggressively. Today, they dominate large areas, outcompeting native vegetation and consuming scarce resources like water and soil nutrients. Their dense growth also creates impenetrable thickets that hinder livestock grazing and disrupt local ecosystems. 

To control its spread, South Africa turned to biological solutions, ironically using the same cochineal insect that threatens Ethiopia’s prickly pear. In South Africa, cochineal insects have been highly effective at curbing cactus overgrowth, selectively feeding on the invasive species and allowing native plants to recover. 

This dual role of the prickly pear cactus—as both a valuable resource and a potential ecological threat—highlights the importance of responsible management. Striking a balance between conservation and cultivation is key to harnessing the plant’s benefits while preventing unintended environmental consequences. 

Innovative Uses: From Energy to Eco-Friendly Materials

The prickly pear’s resilience extends beyond its survival in harsh environments—it’s also fueling innovation in sustainability. Scientists and entrepreneurs are finding new ways to harness this plant’s potential, from renewable energy to eco-friendly materials. 

In the search for cleaner energy sources, prickly pear biomass is being used to produce biogas and bioethanol, offering a renewable alternative to fossil fuels. Unlike resource-intensive crops, the cactus thrives with minimal water, making it a low-impact solution for sustainable energy. Meanwhile, its juice is being explored as a base for biodegradable plastics. Unlike corn-based bioplastics, which require significant land and water resources, cactus-based plastics are more sustainable and continue growing after harvesting, reducing environmental strain. 

Cactus leather, developed by companies like Desserto, provides a sustainable alternative to synthetic and animal-based materials. Unlike traditional vegan leather, which often contains petroleum-based plastics, cactus leather is biodegradable, water-efficient, and durable. As more industries embrace the potential of this remarkable plant, the prickly pear is proving that sustainability and innovation can go hand in hand.

From nourishing communities to restoring degraded land, and generating clean energy, the prickly pear is far more than just a desert plant—it’s a symbol of resilience, innovation, and sustainability. However, its impact depends on careful management. Whether cultivated as a food source or controlled as an invasive species, striking the right balance is key to unlocking its full potential. 

And if this article has inspired you to try a prickly pear fruit for yourself, please stick to the store-bought varieties. Unlike wild varieties, cultivated prickly pears are often spineless, making them easier (and safer) to eat. Plus, it would give me, the author, peace of mind knowing that no one has to suffer the same fate I did when I ended up with a hand full of spines after an ill-fated foraging attempt.

Sources and Further Reading

• Agricultural Extension, Somervell County. (2015). Prickly pear biology and management. Texas A&M AgriLife Extension. 
• Carbon Cactus Foundation. (n.d.). Carbon sequestration using Opuntia cactus
• Kumar, K. (2018). Introduction of carmine cochineal to Northern Ethiopia: Current status of infestation on cactus pear and control measures. ResearchGate. 
• Kumar, K. (2018). Cactus pear cultivation and uses. ResearchGate. 
• Rhodes University. (n.d.). Mass rearing of biocontrol agents at the Kareiga Uitenhage mass rearing facility. Centre for Biological Control. 
• ScienceDirect. (2022). The role of prickly pear in the ecological restoration process. 
• Snowden, S. (2019, July 14). Scientist in Mexico creates biodegradable plastic from prickly pear cactus. Forbes. 
• Something Over Tea. (2018, October 9). Cochineal insects: A tale of two imports. 
• Springer. (2024). Prickly pear cochineal and carmine production. Springer Link.. 
• Sustainable Jungle. (2021). Cactus leather: A sustainable alternative to traditional materials 
• Tacinga. (2013). The hummingbird-pollinated prickly pear. ResearchGate. 
• Texas A&M AgriLife Extension. (2015). Prickly pear biology and management. Somervell County Extension Office. 
• Texas Beyond History. (n.d.). Prickly pear in coastal Texas. Texas Beyond History. 
• (2023). Cultivation of Opuntia ficus indica under biofuel production conditions. 
• Wiley Online Library. (2019). Prickly pear cochineal (Dactylopius coccus) and carmine production. BES Journals. 
• (2023). Potential for biofuels from prickly pear biomass.(n.d.). Prickly pear cactus for biogas production. Anaerobic Digestion Blog.

I prowl the woods, both fierce and lean,
With golden eyes and coat unseen.
Once a ghost upon the land,
Now brought back by careful hand.
Who am I, wild and free,
Yet bound by fate and history?

Many moons ago, for two years during college and one year after, I worked at the Columbus Zoo & Aquarium in central Ohio (for those keeping score at home, that’s Jack Hanna’s zoo. Yes I met him.)

I spent thousands of hours over hundreds of days at that zoo. I got to know every path, every Dippin’ Dots stand, and every habitat under the zoo’s care. 

The Columbus Zoo & Aquarium has an incredible collection of creatures (they’re one of the only institutions outside of Florida with manatees). While I was enamored with all of them, my favorite were the Mexican Wolves, a critically imperiled species. 

In a place full of more diversity and creatures than I could ever count, the zoo’s Mexican wolves were different. As part of the (American) Association of Zoos and Aquariums’ Species Survival Plan, a nationwide conservation effort. There were excellent educators of the impact one creature can have on an ecosystem, and what can happen when we don’t take care of them.

A Predator on the Brink

The Mexican wolf (Canis lupus baileyi) is both the rarest and most genetically distinct subspecies of the more well known gray wolf. It is notably smaller than its northern relatives, with adults weighing standing about two feet tall at the top of the shoulder. Despite this (relatively) diminutive stature, the Mexican wolf is an apex predator in its environment, finely tuned by evolution for survival in the rugged, often unforgiving landscapes of the southwestern United States and northern Mexico.

Consider those landscapes for a moment. What does it take for a species already up against the ropes to survive there? What would it take for you to survive there?

You’d have to have exceptional endurance to hunt in vast, open environments. Long, slender legs and a streamlined body would allow you to cover these great distances while tracking prey, often over the course of 30 miles in a single day. You’d require an acute sense of smell and keen eyesight to pick up on the movements of smaller creatures from far away, even in the dim light of dawn or dusk when your prey is most active.

You’d be an expert of efficient thermoregulation, that is, keeping cool in the heat and warm in the cold. And you’d have to be, an expert, when your world ranges from scorching desert heat to bitter mountain cold, these wolves have developed a double-layered coat that provides insulation in winter while shedding excess warmth in summer. The coat’s coloration, a mixture of gray, rust, and buff, serves as excellent camouflage against the rocky and forested landscapes they inhabit.

A Wolf’s Role

It’s old news to you, I know, but it bears repeating. For ecosystems to function, predators must play their part. Like other wolves, the Mexican wolf is a keystone species, regulating prey populations and influencing plant communities. Without them, the system unravels.

The Mexican wolf primarily hunts elk, white-tailed deer, mule deer, and occasionally livestock, but they will also take smaller mammals like rabbits and rodents when such larger prey is scarce. When they hunt, they do so together, as cooperative pack hunters. Their strong social structure is as essential a tool as their razor sharp incisors in felling prey much larger than themselves. Beyond the hunt, these [ack dynamics are critical to their survival—each member has a role, from rearing the pups learning the ropes to experienced hunters leading coordinated chases.

Both on the hunt and at home, communication is central to the wolves’ social structure. Howling serves as both a bonding ritual and a way to locate packmates over vast distances. Body language, like tail positioning and ear movement, helps maintain hierarchy within the group. You may even recognize a few of these traits in your own dog, barking or howling to communicate, using their tail and ears to express emotion, or learning through playful wrestling as a puppy. 

Packs are tight-knit, usually number four to six members, though some may grow larger depending on prey availability. They establish territories spanning up to 200 square miles, marking them with scent and vocalizing to warn off intruding wolves and other creatures.

In the absence of wolves, prey populations, especially elk and deer, explode, stripping vegetation and weakening forests. Overgrazed lands mean fewer young trees, degraded soil, less cover for smaller animals and heightened wildfire risk. This domino effect, known more scientifically as trophic cascade, ripples through the entire ecosystem. Beavers lose the young saplings they rely on for food and dams. Birds struggle to find nesting spots. Streams warm without tree cover, altering aquatic life.

But when wolves return, balance begins to restore itself. Just ask Yellowstone National Park. Wolves keep elk and deer moving, preventing over-grazing in sensitive areas. Carcasses left behind provide food for scavengers, including ravens, eagles, foxes, and even bears. Their presence reshapes the landscape, not just through their actions but through the fear they instill in prey. They don’t just hunt; they change the way the river of life flows.

A Fragile Comeback

Conservation and reintroduction of Mexican wolves has been an uphill, if slightly progressive, endeavor since the first captive-bred wolves were reintroduced into Arizona and New Mexico in 1998.

Ranchers in the area saw them as a renewed threat to livestock, and illegal killings were common practice. Some reintroduced wolves were shot before they had a chance to establish packs. Others were relocated after venturing too close to human settlements and industry.

Populations have grown slowly. From a low of just seven wolves in 1980, there are now about 250-300 Mexican wolves in the wild today. This precarious population is still critically small, vulnerable to disease, low genetic variation, and continued conflict with humans.

Climate change has also complicated things.

Rising temperatures are altering the Mexican wolf’s habitat. More frequent and severe droughts in the American Southwest threaten prey availability, pushing elk and deer into different ranges. Increased wildfires, driven by hotter, drier, and more flammable conditions, destroy the forests that wolves depend on for cover and prey.

Last Word

I know zoos can be complicated, controversial places at times. I’m not really here to weigh in on that. But I think like many things in life, there is great value in the best parts of them. As we all continue to advocate for a less-extractive relationship with the rivers of life beyond our front door, I think the ability to educate, connect, and inspire others to care about the world around them is critically important. I saw the Columbus Zoo do that well time and time again, and I think every time we share a featured creature, post a picture of our gardens, or take someone along for a Miyawaki planting, we do the same.

What creature is mall and round 
and with a shrill sound 
it nests in the ground, 
where it hopes not to be found?

The Pika! (Ochotona)

The American Pika has a short, stocky body with large round ears and short legs. Don’t be fooled by this adorable ball of fur and ears. The pika is a hardy creature, one of the only mammals, in fact, that is able to survive its entire life in alpine terrain. The intensity of alpine environments makes it difficult for animals to thrive. The pika is believed to have originated in Asia, where 28 out of the 30 species of the lagomorph still reside. Fossil remains of ancient pika date back to over 15 million years ago, and are thought to have traveled from Asia to North America in the Miocene epoch, across the Bering land bridge.

Lagomorphs, not rodents

As a guinea pig owner, the pika first drew my attention due to its resemblance to my beloved pets. Despite its guinea-pig and mouse-like appearance, however, the pika is not, in fact, a rodent. Instead, the pika is a lagomorph, sharing the title with rabbits and hares. The pika is the smallest lagomorph, with most weighing between 125 and 200 grams, and measuring about 15 cm in length. Unlike rodents, lagomorphs have a second, smaller pair of incisors located directly behind the first. In addition to their second pair of front teeth, lagomorphs produce two separate kinds of feces, drops that are both solid and round, or black soft pellets. The soft feces contain up to five times as many vitamins as the solid droppings, and after their production are re-consumed to utilize their nutritional value. The purpose of this process is to allow the animal to access the nutrients that its body was unable to absorb upon its first digestion, an important adaptation for life in their lives in an unforgiving alpine environment.

Where do they live?

The pika reside in two very distinct and separate places, depending on the specific species. While some live in rocky, alpine terrains, others prefer to burrow in meadows. The American pika inhabits the former, on the treeless, rocky slopes of mountains, found in mountainous areas of the Sierra Nevada and the Rocky Mountains in both Canada and the United States. These pikas are social creatures, and gather to live in colonies together. These colonies provide the pikas with protection, as at any sign of danger they will squeak a warning call to their colony, a sound which is represented in the following video. Although they live together, pikas are territorial of their own den. Each pika’s den is built into the crevasse of the rocky environment, and the pika will also emit territorial cries to keep their fellow pikas away.

The pika’s breeding season is in the spring, when their aggression and territorial feelings reach a low. This change in disposition allows the creatures to mate with their den’s closet neighbor. Pika gestation lasts 30 days, and litters of one to four are born blind and hairless, to be cared for by their mother. The young pikas grow quickly, and reach adulthood in just 40 to 50 days, and adult pikas have an average lifespan of about three years. Mother pikas generally birth two litters of babies each summer, but the first litter tends to have a higher survival rate.

The American pika varies from brown to black in fur color, resembling the rocky terrain that it inhabits. Their thick coat of fur, which keeps them warm in the cold winter months, thins during the summer, allowing some relief from the summer heat. Pikas are active year-round, and do not hibernate. Instead, the pika seeks shelter within the cracks and crevices of their rocky terrain, remaining warm through the insulation of heavy snow. In addition, the American Pika makes sure to take precautions in order to prepare for the tough winter months, when grasses and wildflowers are sparse.

Winter is Coming

To prepare for harsh winter months, the pika gathers its favorite foods, grasses, weeds, and wildflowers, carrying its harvest in its mouth before depositing it into a hidden pile. This collection process is called haying, and the pikas store their clippings in crevices and under boulders, where they dry out over time. Haying allows the dry grasses to be stored for long periods of time in the pika’s den without growing moldy, perfect for saving a snack for the winter. During the summer, haying becomes the pikas primary activity, and each individual haystack can grow to be quite large in size.

A little sweet and sour, pikas also participate in kleptoparasitism, stealing precious resources from already existing haystacks. They reach peak aggression in the summer months, desperate to defend their dens and haystacks from thieving neighbors. And for good reason–because they don’t really hibernate, the pika’s winter survival hinges on its successful haying season. In order to survive the winter, one pika needs approximately 30 pounds of plant material stored. That’s a lot! Each pika may have multiple haystacks, spread out throughout its individual territory. Usually, they focus their energy on one specific haystack, which over time can grow to be two feet in height and two feet in diameter.

Up, up, up

The pika has made its home among the rugged, wind-scoured peaks of Asia and North America’s mountain ranges, thriving in an environment too harsh for most creatures. But something is changing.

As summers grow hotter and snowpacks thin out, the pika’s alpine world is shrinking. The tiny mammals, perfectly adapted to the cold, are being driven higher and higher up the slopes, chasing the last pockets of cool, livable habitat. A pika cannot sweat or pant to cool itself down; instead, when temperatures climb above 78°F, it faces a simple but devastating choice—find shade or perish.

Historically, pikas have lived at elevations as low as 5,700 feet, but now, scientists are tracking their ascent to over 8,300 feet, seeking relief from the relentless heat. But mountains have their limits. What happens when the pika reaches the summit, and there is nowhere left to climb?

We’re already starting to find out. In the Great Basin region of the western United States, seven out of twenty-five pika populations have vanished, unable to adapt fast enough to their rapidly changing circumstances. Without deep winter snows to insulate their rocky dens, some freeze in the cold months, while others struggle to gather enough food as their growing season shifts unpredictably.

The pika’s journey upward is a silent alarm, a warning from one of nature’s smallest mountaineers.

Sources and Further Reading:

• Roger Smith and Hayley Lanier, 2008
• Lagomorph, Andrew T. Smith, 2025
• Pika, Andrew T. Smith, 2025
• National Park Service, Conservation
• National Park Service, Pika
  

What creature used to live on the ground but now hangs in trees, has hair that grows in the opposite direction than most mammals, and turns green because of the algae that thrives in their fur?

The Sloth! (Folivora)

Would you be surprised if I told you that sloths aren’t lazy, but slow and careful? 

Sloths have been labeled as some of the laziest animals due to their slow movements and the (unfair and misguided) assumption that they sleep all day. This belief isn’t helped by the fact that the word sloth literally means “laziness,” as does its common name in many other languages. But as we’ll learn, there’s a lot more to this creature than meets the eye, and their chill, methodical nature is actually a quite ingenious survival mechanism. 

The six surviving species of sloths are categorized into two groups: Bradypus, the three-toed sloths, and Choloepus, the two-toed sloths. Even with this naming, all sloths have three toes on their back limbs – whereas two-toed sloths only have two digits on their front limbs. Both groups descend from ancestors that were mostly terrestrial (meaning they lived on the ground) that existed about 28 million years ago. Some of them reached sizes rivaling those of elephants! The sizes of modern sloths vary, with three-toed sloths typically ranging from 60-80 cm in length (24-31 inches) and weighing between 3.6-7.7 kg (8-17 lbs), while two-toed sloths can be slightly larger, particularly in weight.  

Found in the tropical rainforests of Central and South America, you can identify them by their rounded heads, tiny ears, and a facial structure that makes them look like they’re always smiling. They have stubby tails and long limbs ending in curved claws that, historically used for digging, now work with specialized tendons and a grip strength that is twice as strong as a humans to climb tree trunks and hang upside down from branches effortlessly. It is believed that over time, sloths evolved into a suspensory lifestyle to have easy access to plentiful food (mainly leaves), stay safe from predators (like jaguars and ocelots), and conserve energy.

Leafy Lunches

Sloths have a very low metabolism, meaning their bodies take quite a while to turn food into energy, thus the characteristically sluggish pace. Sloths move at about 4 yards per minute, and in an entire day, they may cover only around 120 feet, which is less than half the length of a football field. These languid movements are the reason why sloths can survive on a relatively low-energy diet, like leaves. While three-toed sloths are almost entirely herbivorous, two-toed sloths have an omnivorous diet that includes insects, fruits, and small lizards.

Even though leaves are the main food source for sloths, they provide very little nutrients and don’t digest easily. These lethargic tree-dwellers have large, slow-acting, multi-chambered stomachs that work for weeks to break down tough leaves. In fact, up to two thirds of a well-fed sloth’s body weight consists of the contents of its stomach. What other animals can digest in hours takes sloths days or weeks to process! Due to their slow digestion, sloths descend every week or so to defecate on the ground. Why exactly they do this is still a mystery to scientists, especially because sloths are at much more risk to predators on the ground.

Did you know that baby sloths learn what to eat by licking the lips of their mother?

Sloths, Moths, and Little Green Friends

Perhaps one of the most fascinating things about our slow-moving friends is what lives in their fur. Believe it or not, it’s a miniature world! Acting as a mobile home for a variety of different insect, fungi, and microbial species, sloths are, in fact, thriving ecosystems. But first, let’s set the scene.

Sloth fur grows in the opposite direction than it does on other animals. Normally, hair will grow towards the arms and legs, but because sloths spend so much of their lives upside down in the canopy with their limbs above their bodies (eating, sleeping, even giving birth hanging upside down), their fur grows away from their extremities and towards their bodies, giving them protection from the elements. 

The layered and grooved structure of sloths’ shaggy coat is the perfect environment to host many species of commensal beetles, mites, moths, fungi, as well as a symbiotic green algae. While the sloths don’t directly consume and gain nutrients from the algae (legend held for many years that sloths were so lazy, they’d rather eat the algae off their back than search for food), its presence helps protect the sloths from predators by aiding in their camouflage, hiding them from predators like harpy eagles.

A Slow but Important Presence in the Rainforest

Sloths are an integral part of tropical rainforest ecosystems. They regulate plant growth through their consumption of leaves, provide a unique habitat for smaller organisms like algae and moths in their fur, and contribute to nutrient cycling by depositing their feces on the forest floor, dispersing seeds and fertilizing new plant growth. 

Some species of sloths are at risk because of deforestation, contact with electrical lines, and poaching and animal trafficking. The health of these creatures is wholly dependent on the health of the tropical rainforest. If their habitat begins to deteriorate, sloths are forced to live elsewhere in places that cannot support healthy populations.

Luckily, The World Wildlife Fund (WWF) works with communities, governments, and organizations to encourage sustainable forestry, and collaborates to expand areas of forests under responsible management. WWF has worked with the Brazilian government since 2003 on the Amazon Region Protected Areas (ARPA) initiative, helping it become one of the largest conservation projects in the world. Not to mention, The Sloth Institute of Costa Rica is known for caring, rehabilitating, and releasing sloths back into the wild.

More than meets the eye

While sloths are well-known for their slow-moving pace and are labeled as lazy, to believe that that is the only notable thing about them is largely inaccurate. Similar to how judging a person based on one aspect of their personality is not an accurate judgment of their character, judging sloths based on their sluggishness is not an accurate judgment of sloths as creatures. It overlooks how they’ve adapted from life on the ground to life in the trees, how they use their muscles and long claws to hang upside down and save a ton of energy, their role as ecosystem engineers, how they create habitats for other organisms, and how they help maintain the health of the forest.

So the next time we come across a creature – whether in the wild or at a sanctuary – we might ask, “What else can this creature do?”

Sources and Further Reading:

• Sloths (Suborder Folivora) · iNaturalist
• Sloth | Species | WWF 
• The Sloth’s Evolutionary Secret
  

With leaves shaped like a spade, what plant
is known to invade and refuses to fade? 

The Japanese knotweed (Reynoutria japonica)

On a warm spring afternoon, my friend and I explored a creek off the Mill River, in Northampton Massachusetts. Thick green bushes lined the banks, making it difficult to reach the water’s edge. As we scoped for a route through, my friend pulled on a nearby branch, inspecting its leaf. 

“Japanese Knotweed,”  she identified, grasping the plant at the thick part of its stem and straining to pull it up . “This was my whole summer.” 

She’d worked on a farm the previous summer and spent countless hours eradicating weeds, which, as it turned out, were mostly Japanese knotweed.

I too am familiar with knotweed. As a child, I mistook Japanese knotweed’s hollow stems for bamboo, often wielding them as makeshift swords. At the time, I thought of the plant as little more than a plaything, unaware of the complex role it was playing in the ecosystem around me.

Where does Japanese knotweed grow? 

Japanese knotweed is native to East Asia in Japan, China, and parts of Korea and Taiwan. The plant was introduced to North America in the late nineteenth century, to be used as an ornamental plant. Its introduction, however, had unintended consequences as it invaded wetland, stream corridors, forest edges, and drainage ditches. Japanese knotweed is a herbaceous perennial plant (a non-woody plant that regrows each year from its roots), that can grow to be up to 11 feet tall, with jointed hollow stems resembling that of, yes, bamboo. So you can forgive my childhood ignorance. The stems are bright green and grow nodes which can range in color from red to purple. The knotweed’s spade-shaped leaves grow from these nodes, with a square base and sharp point. They thrive in full sun but can also grow in partial shade, and do well in a variety of soil and moisture conditions. It can often be observed on the banks of rivers, wet depressions, and woodland edges, or in more built environments, including construction sites and roadways. 

During the summer, from the nodes of the knotweed bloom small white and pale green flowers. These little flowers are 3 to 4 inches long, and grow in fingerlike clusters, with each cluster holding a couple dozen flowers. 

While Japanese knotweed is known as an invasive species in many parts of the world, including throughout the United States, in its native range it plays a much different role. There, it exists in balance with local ecosystems, kept in check by native insects, fungi, and herbivores that have evolved alongside it. Instead of forming dense monocultures that crowd out other plants, knotweed grows as part of diverse plant communities, coexisting with a wide variety of species.

Unlike in North America and Europe, where few animals or insects consume it, knotweed supports a variety of wildlife in its natural habitat, and its nectar is enjoyed by bees and butterflies, especially in late summer when other flowers have faded. Insects such as the aphid Aphalara itadori and various beetle species naturally feed on knotweed, limiting its dominance and allowing native plants to thrive alongside it. Some fungi, like Mycosphaerella leaf spot, help regulate its growth, preventing the unchecked spread seen in non-native environments. These interactions ensure that Japanese knotweed remains just one part of a broader ecosystem rather than an overwhelming force.

Ecologically, Japanese knotweed plays an important role in nutrient cycling and soil formation. Its deep, extensive rhizome network helps stabilize slopes prone to erosion in Japan’s more volcanic landscapes, helping to prevent landslides and maintaining soil structure. Additionally, the plant’s decomposition contributes to organic matter in the soil, enriching the surrounding environment. 

But when introduced elsewhere, many of these ecological checks and balances are missing, allowing knotweed to spread aggressively and disrupt local biodiversity.

How does it spread? 

Japanese knotweed reproduces through both seeds and rhizomes, an underground root-like system which produces shoots of new plants, coming up through the earth. As much as two-thirds of the plant’s biomass is stored in this network. 

The knotweed can be found around the world, far from home. It was introduced to the United Kingdom in 1825 and has since spread across Europe. The majority of Japanese knotweed populations in Europe descend from a single female genotype, though hybridization with related species has introduced some genetic variation. This female genotype is able to receive pollen from a close relative, called the giant knotweed. The combination of these two plants produces a hybrid known as the Bohemian knotweed, which is also spreading across Europe. 

In North America, however, the Japanese knotweed reproduces differently than its European counterpart. Even though the European female clone is widely dispersed around the United States, this clone is not the only genotype present. Populations of both male and female Japanese knotweed have been identified across America. The female Japanese knotweed does not produce pollen and primarily spreads through those rhizomes, though it can also reproduce via seeds when pollinated by a related species. Male Japanese knotweed, on the other hand, do produce pollen, as well as occasionally producing seeds. 

Impact

Japanese knotweed grows in thick clusters, emerging during early spring time and growing quickly and aggressively. This dense stand of plants crowds out native vegetation, depriving them of resources needed for reproduction and survival.

Japanese knotweed thrives in moist, shaded environments. On stream banks, it outcompetes native grasses and shrubs, reducing biodiversity. This lack of diversity along the bank causes instability, and makes it more likely that the soil will shear off during flooding, increasing the amount of sediment deposited into the water. This erosion sends soil and Japanese knotweed seeds into the creek, allowing the plant to spread downstream and further destabilizing the stream bank. 

Foraging Japanese knotweed 

The young, spring shoots of Japanese knotweed are not only edible, but also delicious! The plant has a tart, slightly sweet taste, similar to that of rhubarb. It can be turned into a jam, put in salads or a stir fry, and used as a crunchy addition to sushi. Where it is native in East Asia, knotweed has been used in traditional medicine for hundreds of years. Owing to the plant’s invasive nature, practicing responsible foraging is crucial to avoid accidentally spreading the knotweed populations. In order to properly dispose of the leftover plant matter, it must be boiled, burned, or thoroughly dried out before discarding in order to ensure that no knotweed is spread. Foraging and eating Japanese knotweed can be a way to help control the plant, through the repeated cutting of the stems. The following video shows a recipe for homemade  Japanese knotweed pickles!

Managing knotweed

Due to its dense clusters and deep root system, once established, Japanese knotweed is incredibly difficult to remove. Manually, populations can be managed through repeated cutting, though complete removal of rhizomes is extremely difficult and can sometimes lead to further spread of the knotweed. When it comes to cutting, the stems of the plant must be cut three separate times during the growing season in order for this to be an effective treatment. In terms of digging up the roots, this can be very labor intensive, and the process of digging Japanese knotweed can unintentionally cause the spread of rhizome fragments, which can result in even more Japanese knotweed on your hands!

Through dedicated work, such as that of my friend who spent three months eradicating Japanese knotweed on her farm, the populations and impacts of the plant, when invasive, can be mitigated. With a little time and effort, you can help control knotweed in your own backyard…and maybe even harvest some for dinner.

Sources and Further Reading:

• Japanese Knotweed, Polygonum cuspidatum (Fallopia japonica), IPSAWG, Purdue
• Art Gover, et al., 2020
• Michigan Department of Natural Resources, Michigan Natural Features Inventory, 2012
• Invasive Plant Profile: Japanese Knotweed, National Park Service
  

What insect spends years hidden underground, preparing for a brief but spectacular emergence into the sunlight, filling the air with the deafening, iconic song of summer?

The cicada (Cicadoidea)!

Every time I return to the south of France, there’s one sound that immediately signals to me that summer has arrived—the unmistakable hum of cicadas. Their chorus, loud and unrelenting, fills the air in the warm Mediterranean heat and acts as a personal cue to pause, take a breath, and unwind. For me, it’s not just the start of summer; it’s the sound of nostalgia, the reminder of countless days spent hiking through the pine forests, picnicking under the shade of olive trees, or simply soaking in peaceful serenity at the beach. The cicadas’ song is always complemented by the sweet, earthy smell of ripening figs. It’s a sensory symphony that epitomizes the region’s charm. 

These moments, marked by the rhythmic buzz of cicadas, offer a unique connection to nature—one that I’ve come to cherish as a deeply rooted part of my experience in the region. The cicadas’ song is a call to slow down, reconnect, and embrace the simple beauty of life in the south of France. 

As much as these personal experiences have shaped my connection to cicadas, there’s so much more to learn about these fascinating creatures. From their complex life cycles to the essential roles they play in ecosystems around the world, cicadas are much more than the soundtrack of summer.

The Backstory

If the name “cicada” doesn’t quite ring a bell, you might recognize it from Animal Crossing. It’s a common insect that players can encounter in the game. 

Cicadas are the loudest insect species in the world, known for their buzzing and clicking noises, typically sung during the day. This song, produced by males to attract females, is a highly specialized mating call. Each species of cicada has its own unique variation, which is genetically inherited rather than learned, unlike the calls of other animals such as birds. Some cicada species, like the double drummer, even group together to amplify their calls, deterring predatory birds by overwhelming them with noise. Others adapt by singing at dusk, avoiding the attention of daytime predators. 

If you’re curious about the fascinating science behind how cicadas create their iconic sound and want to dive deeper into their unique anatomy, I highly recommend checking out the following video. It’s a captivating look at how these incredible insects make their music!

But there’s more to cicadas than their songs. If you’ve ever tried to catch one, you might have discovered their quirky behavior firsthand—cicadas pee when they fly! This “cicada rain” is simply their way of excreting excess liquid after consuming large amounts of plant sap. While it’s harmless, it’s something to keep in mind if you’re ever under a tree full of buzzing cicadas—or reaching out to grab one! 

With more than 3,000 species worldwide, cicadas are primarily found in temperate and tropical climates, avoiding regions with extreme cold. Their life cycle consists of three stages: egg, nymph, and adult. After hatching, nymphs burrow underground and feed on plant root sap for years before emerging, molting, and transforming into adults. 

Watching a cicada emerge from its nymphal shell is like witnessing a miniature metamorphosis in real-time—its delicate wings unfurling as it prepares to take flight. If you’ve never seen this magical process, here’s a fascinating video that brings it to life. 

While most species are annual cicadas, emerging every year, some, like the periodical cicadas of North America, emerge every 13 or 17 years. These synchronized groups are referred to as “broods.” A brood consists of all the cicadas of the same lifecycle group that emerge in a specific year within a particular geographical area. This classification system helps scientists and enthusiasts track and study the various populations of periodical cicadas. 

These mass events, involving millions of cicadas, are a marvel of nature and the unique cycle remains a topic of scientific curiosity. In exceptionally rare cases, two different broods can emerge simultaneously, creating a spectacle of overlapping generations. This video explains more about these extraordinary dual emergence events and why they capture the fascination of entomologists and nature enthusiasts alike.

Showstoppers: Stunning Species from Around the World

Across the globe, these fascinating insects showcase an incredible range of colors, patterns, and sizes, rivaling even the most vibrant creatures of the animal kingdom. Here’s a look at some standout species that prove cicadas are as much visual marvels as they are auditory icons:

Cicadas vs. Locusts: Clearing Up the Confusion 

Cicadas are often mistaken for locusts, a confusion that dates back to early European colonists who likened the sudden mass emergence of cicadas to the biblical plagues of locusts. However, cicadas and locusts are very different insects with distinct behaviors and ecological impacts.

Locusts, a type of grasshopper, are infamous for forming destructive swarms that can devastate crops and vegetation, causing severe agricultural damage. In contrast, cicadas do not consume foliage in a way that harms plants or crops. While their synchronized emergences can be dramatic, cicadas are not considered pests and pose no threat to agriculture. 

Cicadas’ Impact: How They Shape the Ecosystem

Cicadas play a crucial role in maintaining ecosystem balance at every stage of their life cycle. During their subterranean nymph stage, they engage in burrowing activities that profoundly impact soil structure and health. By creating tunnels, they aerate the soil, facilitating root respiration and improving water infiltration, which enhances soil moisture distribution. Their burrowing also redistributes nutrients, mixing organic matter and minerals from different soil layers, which boosts soil fertility and supports plant growth. 

These tunnels also provide microhabitats for other soil organisms, such as insects, microorganisms, and invertebrates, fostering biodiversity. Upon their emergence, adult cicadas become a vital food source for various predators, such as birds, mammals, and reptiles, boosting the survival and reproduction of these species. 

When cicadas die, their decomposing bodies enrich the soil with nutrients, stimulating microbial activity and increasing the diversity of soil microarthropod communities (Microarthropods are like miniature insects such as springtails or soil mites). This nutrient flux improves plant productivity and even impacts the dynamics of woodland ponds and streams, underscoring their importance in nutrient cycling.

Cicadas as Ecological Signals: What They Tell Us About Nature

Cicadas are valuable bioindicators, reflecting the health of their environments. As root feeders, their abundance can tell us a lot about the integrity of root systems and the availability of water and nutrients. Cicadas also require well-structured, uncompacted soil to create their burrows, making their presence an indicator of healthy soil conditions. 

The Cicada-MET protocol, which involves counting cicada exuviae (shed skins), offers a standardized method to assess environmental quality. Additionally, acoustic methods to analyze their songs are used to study the impacts of disturbances like wildfires and can guide conservation strategies.

Challenges Facing Cicadas: The Threats to Their Survival

Cicadas face various threats that jeopardize their populations and the ecosystems they support. Habitat loss due to urbanization is a significant challenge, as forests and grasslands are replaced with buildings and infrastructure, reducing the availability of suitable

environments for their life cycles. Planting native trees, preserving green spaces, and advocating for wildlife-friendly urban planning are simple but effective ways to help restore their habitats. For example, oak, pine, and olive trees in Mediterranean areas, or sycamore and dogwood in North America, are ideal choices. Climate change is another major threat, particularly in regions like Provence, where extreme heat waves can suppress cicada singing and disrupt mating behaviors, potentially forcing them to migrate to cooler areas, altering both new ecosystems and those they leave behind.. Additionally, some cicada species are vulnerable to invasive pathogens, such as fungi like Massospora cicadina, which manipulate their behavior and spread infections. While this fungus predominantly affects periodical cicadas, similar threats could arise for other species. If you have the opportunity, I would recommend participating in citizen science projects to report sightings of infected cicadas and track population health.

A Month of Delight

Cicadas have a way of sparking curiosity and creativity in those who encounter them. Whether it’s collecting their delicate, shed exoskeletons to study, transforming them into art, or pausing to listen to their summer chorus, these insects invite us to engage more deeply with the natural world. By paying closer attention to creatures like cicada’s, we can gain a greater appreciation for their fascinating life cycles, and develop a stronger connection to the ecosystem that sustains them. 

Naturalist Jean-Henri Fabre once said, “Four years of hard work in the darkness, and a month of delight in the sun––such is the Cicada’s life, We must not blame him for the noisy triumph of his song.” By understanding and appreciating these extraordinary creatures, we can ensure their songs—and the inspiration they bring—continue to resonate for generations to come.

Lakhena

Sources and Further Reading:

• Cicadas. (2022). Australian Museum. 
• Cicadas: An Overview. (2023). National Geographic. 
• Periodical Cicada. (2022). Britannica. 
• Where Are Cicadas Located? (2023). A-Z Animals. 
• Too Hot to Chirp: Cicadas Silence in Provence During French Heatwave. (2022). The Guardian. 
• Cicadas and Pest Control. (2022). EPA. 
• Heikkinen, D. (2024). Cicadas’ pee: How these insects urinate in jets, according to new research. 
• Forest Preserve District of Will County). What’s the difference: Cicada vs. locust? 
• A Study on Cicadas and Hydrological Impact. (2021). Wiley Online Library. 
• Traces and Burrowing Behaviors of the Cicada Nymph Cicadetta calliope. (2019). Zoological Journal of the Linnean Society, 191(3), 823–834. 
• Traces and Burrowing Behaviors of the Cicada Nymph Cicadetta calliope: Neoichnology and Paleoecological Significance of Extant Soil-Dwelling Insects. (2019). HAL. 
• Burrowing Behavior and Ecological Impact of Cicadas. (2021). ScienceDirect.
• Cicada Life Cycles: Temporal and Ecological Implications. (2023). Frontiers in Ecology and Evolution. 
• Cicada Nymph Ecology: A New Perspective. (2017). PMC.