What tree wears needles in summer, gold in autumn, and nothing at all in winter, yet never forgets to bloom again?
Photo by Adrianna Drindak
The trees are silent. Last fall’s leaves crunch under my feet as I follow a faint trail through the woods. I know every rock and overturned leaf of this forest. Here I trampled over ferns, snowshoed in the light of a full moon, splashed in the gentle brook, and wandered for hours upon hours of my childhood. I wander back into these woods, dense with Eastern Hemlock, American Beech, hobblebush, trillium, and suddenly I’m young again, young enough to only see the beauty in the world, and I’m home. The old trail fades, and it’s time to journey beyond, along a path that lives in my mind like a memory. I recognize the surrounding trees, the pull of a small clearing in the distance. I may be off the trail, but I know where to walk, which steps will lead me through the thicket of trees, curving past the rickety rock wall, down by the bog, where a grove of evergreens grows, hemlocks and pines, and where a rare find in this forest thrives. Meet the tamarack.
In this forest, at the foothills of the Adirondacks, tamaracks are an uncommon sight. I’ve wandered through these woods for years, and these are the only ones I’ve been able to find. The marsh here, tucked into the creaky wood, creates an ecosystem where the tamarack thrives. Just beginning to grow, this small pocket of evergreens and tamaracks reminds me to remember my roots, deep in the bog, on a path I’ve come to know.
The name “tamarack” originates from “Hackmatack”, which is an Abenaki word meaning “wood for making snowshoes.” (Source) Tamaracks (Larix laricina) are found throughout North America, including all Canadian provinces and territories (Source). These trees thrive in bogs, but are also found in upland areas in the northern extent of their range (Source).
Tamarack trees are special. Known as deciduous conifers, they shift their appearance through the seasons. “Deciduous” refers to trees that drop their leaves for a portion of each year, while “evergreen” trees keep their leaves throughout the seasons (Source). “Conifer,” on the other hand, defines the tree as one that reproduces using a cone structure, thus a cone-bearing plant (Source). While many conifers are evergreen, the tamarack is rare in its ability to drop and regrow its needles in response to seasonal changes throughout the year. In bundles of 10 to 20, the needle clusters of these trees fade from a vibrant green to bright yellow during the fall months, alongside many other tree species in the northeast (Source). These yellow needles fall as the cold weather returns, a golden blanket over the tamarack’s roots (Source).
By Adrianna Drindak
It has been years since I visited this small pocket of tamaracks in person. Yet I am here often in this is the place of my dreams. It has always been a place of wonder and peace, which lives on in my imagination. I close my eyes, and I’m back there, winding between trees, following the path imprinted in my soul. This is a place I know. How powerful it is to know the trees, the esker that runs along through the forest, the curve of the river as it bends away from my course.
I know this place, but it’s changed – I’ve changed. I’m not the same young girl who used to look for colorful rocks in the riverbed, my camera steady in my hands as the heron landed gracefully in its nest, and observed the beaver dams protruding from the murky marsh. But this place will always be a part of me, no matter where I find myself in the future, no matter how much I change, no matter how much this forest changes. The little pocket of evergreens and whimsical tamaracks, tucked in the bog entrenched in my memory, continue to grow, evolving and shifting with the seasons. There is such beauty in change.
Adrianna Drindak is a rising senior at Dartmouth College studying Environmental Earth Sciences and Environmental Studies. Prior to interning at Bio4Climate, she worked as a field technician studying ovenbirds at Hubbard Brook Experimental Forest and as a laboratory technician in an ecology lab. Adrianna is currently an undergraduate researcher in the Quaternary Geology Lab at Dartmouth, with a specific focus on documenting climate history and past glaciations in the northeast region of the United States. This summer, Adrianna is looking forward to applying her science background to an outreach role, and is excited to brainstorm ways to make science more accessible. In her free time, Adrianna enjoys reading, baking gluten free treats, hiking, and backpacking.
On the fringes of my mind, there lies a lake. I can’t recall what it looks like, now just a fragmented memory, but I know it’s there. I imagine that it’s shimmering, with small ripples that echo and a deep blue that beckons, brightened by the sun. I imagine how time passed through this landscape, with the basin painstakingly carved out by a glacier, then pooling with the tears of retreat and the cry of melting snow. I imagine the lake resting, a wooded mountain towering above. Here, I am at peace.
A bird emerges from the water. It peers down, neck craned, to gaze into the depths of the lake. In a flash, the creature dives. Beneath the surface, the bird’s black and white feathers glimmer, and its stark, red eyes skillfully search the darkness. Under the bird’s sleek exterior lies a solid bone structure, allowing it to swim deeper and deeper, reaching depths of 250 ft as it races through the dim waters. The water is clear, allowing the bird to spot a small fish swimming, just a few feet below. Five minutes pass before the bird re-emerges, a small fish tucked in its beak.
The bird may be diving for fish in a faint memory, but it continues to swim at the forefront of my mind. Meet the common loon.
Mirror Lake, Thornton, NH (Photo credit: Adrianna Drindak)
Growing up, my grandparents spent one week of each summer along Blue Mountain Lake, nestled within the Adirondack Mountains in upstate New York. I remember going up to visit with my parents. We would sit outside and chat for hours, dipping in the lake to cool down and cooking meals for our small, close family. The details of these visits are now hazy. After all this time, it’s not the smell of the lake or a stunning evening sunset that lingers. It’s a sound that we cherished, a beckoning that would dance in our ears, a noise that both chilled and calmed my spirit – the call of the loon.
Even now, the loon calls to me. The common loon has four distinctive calls, with its voice most likely to be heard from May to June.
The hoot is a terse call that often allows for family units to converse over small distances.
A male loon might produce a yodel when defending its territory from nearby males, predators, and other threats.
The tremolo is a sound often released over water, as the loon flies over lakes inhabited by other loons.
But, of all the loon’s calls, there is one that settles in your bones, demanding you to listen – the wail. Often a call into the night, the wail serves as a way for mated loons to communicate over the expanse of a large lake. The sound haunts you. It is a cry that mourns, a cry that beckons, a cry that celebrates all that is living and has lived.
…
It is a few days after my grandmother’s funeral.
I hold a small, carved loon in the palm of my hand. This wooden loon is just one of the many objects remaining in my grandparents’ empty home. I hold the loon, and I’m pulled back to Blue Mountain Lake. Even if years separate me from the memory, I can still imagine the gentle whispers of my grandparents as a loon calls.
Mirror Lake, Thornton, NH (Photo credit: Adrianna Drindak)
Now I hear the loon and I feel its own mourning. There is a raw grief, as watersheds are polluted and habitats are destroyed, but there is also the need to communicate and seek partnership. A yearning for what is lost and what is loved. If grief is an expression of love, maybe the loon’s call is one for the world, a call to the wild, to the marshlands and lakes, to the ecosystems that once were, to the future and what our world can be.
Our planet has so much to share, and it’s up to us to listen.
Adrianna Drindak is a rising senior at Dartmouth College studying Environmental Earth Sciences and Environmental Studies. Prior to interning at Bio4Climate, she worked as a field technician studying ovenbirds at Hubbard Brook Experimental Forest and as a laboratory technician in an ecology lab. Adrianna is currently an undergraduate researcher in the Quaternary Geology Lab at Dartmouth, with a specific focus on documenting climate history and past glaciations in the northeast region of the United States. This summer, Adrianna is looking forward to applying her science background to an outreach role, and is excited to brainstorm ways to make science more accessible. In her free time, Adrianna enjoys reading, baking gluten free treats, hiking, and backpacking.
What creature often looks blue, but isn’t, is found on every continent but Antarctica, and inspired a train’s design?
Kingfishers! (Alcedinidae)
Patagonian Ringed Kingfisher, Megaceryle torquata ssp. stellata (Image Credit: Amelia Ryan via iNaturalist)
Kingfishers are kind of like snowflakes. They both float and fly through the air, and no two are really alike. It’s what I love so much about them. Each kingfisher presents characteristics unique to their own lifestyle. They make me think of people. Like kingfishers, we live almost everywhere on Earth and we’ve all adapted a little differently to our diverse environments. I hope as you get to know the kingfisher, you’ll start to feel a small connection to these birds as I have.
Kingfishers are bright, colorful birds with small bodies, large heads, and long bills. They’re highly adaptable to different climates and environmental conditions, making them present in a variety of habitats worldwide. Many call wetland environments like rivers, lakes, marshes, and mangroves home. Now, their name might lead you to think all kingfishers live near these bodies of water, but more than half the world’s species are found in forests, near only calm ponds or small streams. Others live high in mountains, in open woodlands, on tropical coral atolls, or have adapted to human-modified habitats like parks, gardens, and agricultural areas.
Common Kingfisher, Alcedo atthis (Image Credit: Alexis Lours via iNaturalist)
Even so, you’re most likely to spot them in the tropical regions of Africa, Asia, and Oceania, but they can also be found in more temperate regions in Europe and the Americas. Some species have large populations and massive geographic ranges, like the Common Kingfisher (Alcedo atthis), pictured above, which resides from Ireland across Europe, North Africa and Asia, as far as the Solomon Islands in the Pacific. Other kingfishers (typically insular species that evolved on islands) have smaller ranges, like the Indigo-banded Kingfisher (Ceyx cyanopectus), which is only found in the Philippines.
Birds of a Feather
Kingfishers are small to medium sized birds averaging about 16-17 cm (a little over 6 inches) in length. They have compact bodies with short necks and legs, stubby tails and small feet, especially in comparison to their large heads and long, pointed bills. While many species are proportioned the same way, some are quite distinct. Paradise Kingfishers (Tanysiptera), which are found in the Maluku Islands and New Guinea like the one pictured below, are known for their long tail streamers. The African Dwarf Kingfisher (Ispidina lecontei) is the world’s smallest kingfisher at just 10 cm (barely 4 inches) long, and is found in Central and West Africa. The largest is the Laughing Kookaburra (Dacelo novaeguineae), coming in at a whopping 41-46 cm (15-18 inches) long, and is native to Australia.
Buff-Breasted Paradise Kingfisher, Tanysiptera sylvia (Image Credit: Peter and Shelly Watts via iNaturalist)
Now, I know what you’re thinking: ‘Wait, are kookaburras and kingfishers the same thing? Sometime. Out of all 118 species, only four go by the name kookaburra: the Laughing Kookaburra (Dacelo novaeguineae), the Blue-winged Kookaburra (Dacelo leachii), the Spangled Kookaburra (Dacelo tyro), and the Rufous-bellied Kookaburra (Dacelo gaudichaud). Native to Australia and New Guinea, the kookaburra are named for their loud and distinctive call that sounds like laughter. Sometimes their cackles can even be mistaken for monkeys!
So, are they as colorful as everyone says?
Yes! If you ask anyone who has seen a kingfisher to describe what it looks like, they will most likely go on and on about its color. Kingfishers are bright and vividly colored in green, blue, red, orange, and white feathers, and depending on the species, can be marked by a single, bold stripe of color. These features all accent the bird’s most recognizable feature, which is the blue plumage on their wings, back, and head. But here’s where things get interesting: Kingfishers don’t actually have any blue pigment in their feathers.
Laughing Kookaburra, Dacelo novaeguineae (Image Credit: Angela Quinn via Pixabay)African Dwarf Kingfisher, Ispidina lecontei (Image Credit: Niall Perrins via iNaturalist)Woodland Kingfisher, Halcyon senegalensis (Image Credit: Paweł Pieluszyński via iNaturalist)
So, what gives? It’s something called the Tyndall effect. What’s happening is that tiny, microscopic keratin deposits on the birds’ feathers (yes, the same keratin that’s in your hair and nails) scatter light in such a way that short wavelengths of light, like (you guessed it) blue, bounce off the surface while all others are absorbed into the feather.
It sounds a little strange, but you see it every day. It’s why we see the sky as blue, too.
Azure Kingfisher, Ceyx azureus (Image Credit: David White via iNaturalist)
Are kingfishers Really Kings of Fishing?
Yes! And no. Kingfisher species are split into three subfamilies based on their feeding habits and habitats: the Tree Kingfishers (Halcyoninae), the River Kingfishers (Alcedininae), and the Water Kingfishers (Cerylinae). Despite their name, many of these birds primarily prefer insects, taking their prey from the air, the foliage, and the ground. They also eat reptiles (like skinks and snakes), amphibians, mollusks, non-insect arthropods (like crabs, spiders, scorpions, centipedes, and millipedes), and even small mammals like mice.
Tree Kingfishers reside in forests and open woodlands, hunting on the ground for small vertebrates and invertebrates. River Kingfishers are more often found eating fish and insects in forest and freshwater habitats. Water Kingfishers, the birds found near lakes, marshes, and other still bodies of water, are the fishing pros, specialize in catching and eating fish, and are actually the smallest subfamily of kingfishers, with only nine species.
New Zealand Sacred Kingfisher, Todiramphus sanctus ssp. vagans, eating a crustacean (Image Credit: Ben Ackerley via iNaturalist)
Because the diets of kingfishers vary, so does the size and shape of their bills. Even though all species have long, dagger-like bills for the purpose of catching and holding prey, those of fishing species are longer and more compressed while ground feeders have shorter and broader bills that help them dig to find prey. The Shovel-billed Kookaburra (Clytoceyx rex) has the most atypical bill because it uses it to plow through the earth looking for lizards, grubs, snails, and earthworms.
Shovel-billed Kookaburra, (Clytoceyx rex) (Image Credit: Mehd Halaouate via iNaturalist)
Can the blue-but-not-really-blue kingfisher get any more interesting?
Oh yes, yes it can. Ready for another physics lesson? Kingfishers have excellent binocular vision, which means they’re able to see with both eyes simultaneously to create a single three-dimensional image, like humans. Not only that, but they can see in color too! But what makes them so adept at catching fish is their capability to compensate for the refraction of light off water.
When light travels from one material into another (in this case, air into water), that light will refract, or bend, because the densities of air and water are different. This makes objects look as though they are slightly displaced when viewed through the water surface. Kingfishers are not only able to compensate for that optical illusion while hunting, but they also can accurately judge the depth of their prey as well.
But, triangulating underwater prey is only half the battle. Then you’ve got to catch it.
Fishing species of kingfishers dive no more than 25 cm (10 inches) into the water, anticipating the movements of their prey up until impact. Again, what happens next differs depending on which kingfisher we’re talking about. Many have translucent nictitating membranes that slide across their eyes just before impact to protect them while maintaining limited vision. Others, like the Pied Kingfisher (Ceryle rudis leucomelanurus), actually have a more robust bony plate that slides out across its eye when it hits the water—giving greater protection while sacrificing vision.
Pied Kingfisher in action
Kingfishers usually hunt from an exposed vantage point, diving rapidly into the water to snatch prey and return to their perch. If the prey is large (or still alive), kingfishers will kill it by beating it against the perch, dislodging and breaking protective spines and bones and removing legs and wings of insects. The Ruddy Kingfisher (Halcyon coromanda) native to south and southeast Asia, removes land snails from their shells by smashing them against stones on the forest floor.
Typically, kingfishers have eyes so dark brown they’re nearly black. In this photograph, however, you can see these Common Kingfishers’ nictitating membranes, most likely activated on land to remove sand or any other debris that may be hindering their vision. Image Credit: misooksun via iNaturalist
Learning from kingfishers
Occupying a place fairly high in their environments’ pecking orders (trophic level) makes kingfishers susceptible to effects of bioaccumulation, or the increasing concentration of pollutants found in living things as you climb the food chain. This phenomenon, coupled with the kingfisher’s sensitivity to toxins, makes the bird a fairly reliable environmental indicator of ecosystem health. If a kingfisher population is strong, that can indicate their habitat is healthy because the small aquatic animals they feed on aren’t intaking poisons or pollutants. When problems are detected in a kingfisher population, it can serve as an early warning system that something more systemic is wrong.
But that’s not the only thing we can, or have learned, from kingfishers. In 1989, Japan was looking for a way to redesign its Shinkansen Bullet Train to make it both faster and quieter. As the train flew through tunnels at 275 km/h, massive amounts of pressure would build up, reigned in by the front of the train and the tunnels’ walls. Upon exiting the tunnels, that pressure would release, sending roaring booms through the homes of those living nearby. Engineer Eiji Nakatsu was not only the project’s lead, but birdwatcher as well. Noting the kingfisher’s ability to plunge into dense water at incredible speeds with hardly a splash, Nakatsu and his team remodeled the front of the train with the bird’s beak in mind. The result not only solved the problem of the boom, but also allowed the train to travel faster while using less energy.
Kingfishers: A Little More Like You Than You Think
In learning about the kingfisher, I saw a little bit of us. We all come from the same family, even if we each do things a little differently. I think for me, this gets to the root of why finding our connections with all living things matters, not just because they give us inspiration to solve human problems or because we depend on them to keep natural systems in balance, but because this is just as much their Earth as ours.
Let’s do our part,
Abigail
Abigail Gipson is an environmental advocate with a bachelor’s degree in humanitarian studies from Fordham University. Working to protect the natural world and its inhabitants, Abigail is specifically interested in environmental protection, ecosystem-based adaptation, and the intersection of climate change with human rights and animal welfare. She loves autumn, reading, and gardening.
What bog-builder can hold 15-20 times its dry weight in water? Sphagnum moss!
by David McNicholas
The distinctive brown color of Sphagnum beothuk forming a large hummock on a raised bog. (Photo courtesy David McNicholas)
As an ecologist working on Ireland’s peatland restoration, I’ve seen firsthand the profound transformation of re-wetting former industrial peatlands, and its capacity to enhance biodiversity and carbon storage. Working as a member of the Bord na Móna Ecology Team with funding provided by the EU’s Recovery and Resilience Facility as part of Ireland’s National Recovery and Resilience Plan, I’ve have seen more than 60 peatland sites undergo this incredible transformation. Following extensive ecological, hydrological and engineering studies to create the optimal conditions for Sphagnum moss establishment, it is exciting to now move towards the active planting of Sphagnum moss back onto these peatlands. This will accelerate the establishment of Sphagnum-rich bog vegetation that will have greater biodiversity and climate benefits at scale.
Raised bog formation
Sphagnum moss species are key plants in the development and existence of bog habitats. Some species can hold 15 to 20 times their dry weight in absorbed water and tolerate very harsh conditions such as nutrient deficiency, high acidity and waterlogged environments. This ability of Sphagnum to hold water creates the quaky surface conditions that are characteristic of raised bogs in good condition. Bogs simply would not exist as we know them without Sphagnum.
Raised bogs begin to develop in wet shallow depressions, often shallow lakes. Over time, wetland vegetation such as reeds, rushes and other plants leave dead matter behind in the substrate. As the amount of dead vegetation accumulates, the layer of growing vegetation on top is eventually lifted above the influence of the local groundwater. At this point, this layer has become ombrotrophic (exclusively rain fed). The result, in wetter climates, is the development of a wet, nutrient poor and acidic environment in which Sphagnum species thrive. Sphagnum is known as an “ecosystem engineer”. This moss can change its environment, making it wetter and more acidic, suiting these mosses and creating perfect peat-forming raised bog. As the living plants grow upward, the Sphagnum tissue beneath the living surface of the bog is submerged beneath the weight of the growing layer above. This dead material does not completely decay in the anoxic, waterlogged conditions. Instead, it will become peat over time, while the living material will continue to grow, driving the formation of a raised bog dome.
Sphagnum cuspidatum occurring within a bog pool. This species occurs in pools and the wettest parts of peatlands. (Photo courtesy David McNicholas)
Sphagnum’s role in carbon sequestration
The growth habit of Sphagnum is directly responsible for the development of one of nature’s most efficient carbon traps. A metre squared of intact, good quality raised bog sequesters a small amount of carbon annually, but over time these peatlands can accumulate and store much more carbon than the same area of other ecosystems like tropical rainforest. As such, Sphagnum moss is very important to help tackle climate change by taking in carbon and by creating peat-forming conditions to secure this carbon in the ground within healthy peatlands.
The ability of Sphagnum to store water also plays an important role in regulating heavy rainfall events within a catchment. Healthy peatlands can store water in Sphagnum moss, then slowly release this water over time, thereby helping to mitigate potential downstream impacts associated with sudden heavy rainfall.
Sphagnum papillosum, with round leaved sundew growing on top. (Photo courtesy David McNicholas)
Sphagnum as an indicator species
Different Sphagnum species can be used as valuable indicators of peatland type and their overall condition. However, Sphagnum mosses are widely believed to be tricky to identify and so many ecologists simply aggregate them, classifying them as “Sphagnum species”. In doing so, ecologists are forfeiting valuable information on nutrient availability, hydrology and habitat condition that these species provide. Like any other plant group, there are generalist and specialist Sphagnum species. For example, Sphagnumrubellum can be found on nearly any bog habitat in Ireland. Small red cushions and hummocks can be found from relatively dry cutover bog to the wettest parts of an active raised bog.
Sphagnumbeothuk has a very characteristic chocolate brown colouring and is one of the prettiest raised bog species. While S. austinii has a range of colours, the large size of the individual capitulums (the top of the plant) and the relative compactness of the hummocks as a whole can be used to reliably identify the species. Both species generally inhabit the wetter parts of a bog and if abundant and healthy, can be used as an indicator of raised bogs in good condition. Sphagnum cuspidatum is one of the most aquatic species and is generally found in the acidic bog pools in the wettest parts of the bog. Interestingly, it can be found within the drainage ditches of industrially harvested bogs where no other Sphagnum species may be present. There are some Sphagnum mosses that are found in less acidic and more nutrient rich, fen conditions. To get to know Sphagnum species is to open a large encyclopaedia on the various natural history processes and conditions of our peatlands. However, don’t be put off getting to know the more readily identifiable species and build on this. Knowing just a few species can really add to the satisfaction of exploring our unique peatlands.
Moss growth (courtesy David McNicholas)
Use of Sphagnum moss in peatland restoration
Planting Sphagnum moss across re-wetted cutaway bog as a rehabilitation technique is a key objective of the Peatlands and People LIFE Integrated Project (IP). We’re on track to plant one million Sphagnum plugs across over 270 hectares of rehabilitated peatland by November 2024, with ambitious plans for further planting in 2025 and beyond.
Revegetating these areas provides new and more resilient habitat over the longer term. Sphagnum moss will recolonise these sites naturally in time; however, the work we’re doing aims to speed up this trajectory, and we’re establishing a network of peatland sites to develop best practices in restoration and rehabilitation. This involves the design of robust methodologies to monitor and analyse Sphagnum and carbon storage.
While monitoring is ongoing and we have a lot of research ahead of us, initial evaluations of the planted Sphagnum material is already showing positive survival and growth rates.
As I continue my work with Bord na Móna, we’re grateful for the support provided by the European Union’s Recovery and Resilience Facility as part of Ireland’s National Recovery and Resilience Plan, a key instrument at the heart of NextGenerationEU. The primary aim of this scheme is to optimize climate action benefits of rewetting the former industrial peat production areas by creating soggy peatland conditions that will allow compatible peatland habitats to redevelop.
David McNicholas is an Ecologist at Bord na Móna where he works with a multidisciplinary team to deliver an ambitious peatland restoration programme, post-industrial peat production. As a member of the Bord na Móna Ecology Team, David is involved in rehabilitation planning and implementation, while also planning and undertaking monitoring and protected species surveys.
Flamingos are among the most recognizable birds in the world. These long-legged wading birds are known for their vibrant pink plumage and distinctive S-shaped necks, and rank among the most iconic inhabitants of wetlands across the globe.
They are known to congregate in large flocks, standing (often perched on one leg) in the shallows of their habitat. Given their unmistakably flashy appearance, it is apt that a group of flamingos is known as a “flamboyance.”
Flamingos boast a slender body, stilt-like legs, and a characteristic downward-bending bill, making them instantly recognizable. Though they are most often depicted as a bright pink, their plumage ranges from a subtle pink to crimson. This hue is actually derived from carotenoid pigments found in their diet of algae, crustaceans, and small invertebrates. So as flamingos’ range and available food sources vary, so too might their color. Interestingly, this same pigment responsible for the flamingo’s iconic pink is also what makes carrots orange and ripened tomatoes red.
Flamingos thrive in saline or alkaline lakes, mudflats, and shallow lagoons, where they feed on algae, invertebrates, larvae, small seeds, and crustaceans like brine shrimp. Their long legs enable them to wade into deeper waters, utilizing their uniquely adapted bills to filter food from the mud and water. In fact, though the term usually calls to mind creatures like oysters or whales, flamingos are also considered “filter feeders” in their behavior and diet.
While most flamingo species are not endangered, habitat loss and human activities pose significant threats to their populations. Conservation initiatives, such as the establishment of protected reserves and the monitoring of wild populations, are crucial for safeguarding these charismatic birds and their habitats. As indicators of environmental health and key feeders in the wetlands, flamingos play a vital role in maintaining the delicate balance of their ecosystems.
Lifestyle and relationships
Flamingos are highly social creatures, forming large flocks that can number in the thousands. They engage in intricate mating displays and rituals, characterized by synchronized movements and vocalizations. Once a couple has chosen to mate, breeding pairs construct simple mud nests, where they raise their offspring, feeding them a specialized “crop milk” produced in their upper digestive tract.
With a lifespan of 20 to 30 years in the wild, and up to 50 years in captivity, flamingos exhibit remarkable longevity. They typically lay a single chalky-white egg, which both parents incubate and care for until hatching. Young flamingos, born with gray downy feathers, gradually develop their iconic pink plumage over time.
Over time, these bright birds form strong social bonds that characterize their lives and behaviors. Remarkably, it has been observed that some flamingos will make friends for decades. Researchers have speculated that the bonds, which are influenced by factors such as personality traits and physical characteristics, may aid survival.
This long lasting affinity has led to comparisons and speculations about different forms of love in the animal kingdom. Though we see lots of courtship, pairing, and even mating for life in different species, friendship is one of those underrated forms of love well worth celebrating. And while these social relationships may indeed help with survival, it also might just be true that life is better with friends by your side.
Feeling the love,
Maya
Maya Dutta is an environmental advocate and ecosystem restorer working to spread understanding on the key role of biodiversity in shaping the climate and the water, carbon, nutrient and energy cycles we rely on. She is passionate about climate change adaptation and mitigation and the ways that community-led ecosystem restoration can fight global climate change while improving the livelihood and equity of human communities. Having grown up in New York City and lived in cities all her life, Maya is interested in creating more natural infrastructure, biodiversity, and access to nature and ecological connection in urban areas.
Venturing into the world of fishing cats unveils a marvel of feline prowess and adaptability. These incredible creatures, found across 11 countries in Southeast Asia, possess a unique combination of features that defy conventional feline stereotypes.
Their distinct traits include a squat, stocky build, equipped with short, webbed feet, and an olive-gray coat adorned with black spots and stripes. Contrary to the belief that cats avoid water at all costs, fishing cats exhibit an unparalleled affinity for aquatic habitats. Indeed, these exceptional swimmers and adept hunters inhabit wetlands, marshes, and mangrove forests.
One of the most striking features aiding the waterborne adventures of the fishing cat is the webbing between their toes, facilitating seamless navigation through muddy wetlands without sinking. Additionally, their fur boasts a dual-layered composition: a short, dense undercoat shields their skin from the elements while swimming, while longer guard hairs contribute to their distinctive coloration, providing ideal camouflage for hunting in varied terrains.
Hunting primarily near water bodies, fishing cats display remarkable adaptability in their diet, feasting not only on fish but also on crustaceans, amphibians, and various aquatic creatures. These agile predators employ ingenious techniques, using their paws to scoop fish from shallow waters or even diving headfirst into deeper areas to secure a meal with their teeth. Their versatile diets extend to snakes, rodents, and even larger prey like young deer and wild pigs, but fish comprise about three quarters of their food.
Watch a juvenile try to learn the process:
Fishing cats navigate diverse ecosystems with ease, forging their existence in habitats ranging from freshwater landscapes to coastal regions. While much of their behavior in the wild has eluded observation, fishing cats, which are nocturnal animals, are thought to have no natural predators besides humans. They tend to roam wetlands and areas that larger cats and predators aren’t well suited to inhabit. However, humans provide plenty of issues to contend with, and due to the pressures of habitat encroachment, development, and poaching, fishing cats are classified as a vulnerable species.
Smithsonian’s National Zoo, Jessie Cohen
Human and Habitat Pressures
In India, conservationists and researchers have embarked on a pivotal journey to safeguard these elusive creatures. The country’s many wetland ecosystems, integral to the fishing cat’s survival, face mounting threats from human encroachment, urbanization, and environmental degradation. Increasing development comes with issues of draining wetlands, polluting them, or altering their composition and natural salinity of the soil due to aquaculture operations.
Many organizations, like the Wildlife Institute of India and the Eastern Ghats Wildlife Society, have sprung up to champion the cause of fishing cats and understand more about these creatures. Studies conducted in sanctuaries and wildlife reserves have shed light on the behavior, habitat preferences, and dietary patterns of fishing cats in captivity. Initiatives to map their territories and understand their population dynamics have proven more challenging, yet vital for conservation strategies. Camera trap surveys in regions like the Coringa Wildlife Sanctuary and the Krishna Wildlife Sanctuary have uncovered pockets of fishing cat populations, offering valuable insights into their distribution across diverse landscapes.
Juvenile Fishing Cat on a Branch (Photo by Michael Bentley from Wikipedia, CC 2.0)
The evolving understanding of fishing cats has inspired conservation campaigns aimed at raising awareness among local communities. Educational programs, including the “Children for Fishing Cats” initiative, have empowered younger generations to become advocates for wildlife conservation, fostering harmony between human activities and the preservation of vital ecosystems.
Amidst the growing threats posed by habitat loss, human-wildlife conflicts, and climate change, conservationists advocate for stronger legislation and reinforced protection measures for wetlands and associated habitats. Efforts to mitigate conflict situations, prevent retaliatory killings, and promote sustainable practices among fishing communities stand as cornerstones in safeguarding these resilient creatures and their fragile environments.
As researchers navigate the delicate balance between human activities and wildlife conservation, the overarching goal remains clear: preserving the wetlands that sustain the extraordinary fishing cats is indispensable for safeguarding biodiversity, ensuring ecological resilience, and fostering coexistence between humans and these remarkable felines. More people and organizations are also coming to appreciate the benefits of healthy wetland ecosystems for buffering against storm surges, protecting water quality, contributing to the water cycle, and helping fight climate change.
As we protect and restore our wetlands, we can safeguard the future for fishing cats, the ecosystems they regulate, and the web of life that connects us.
For my fellow water lovers everywhere,
Maya
Maya Dutta is an environmental advocate and ecosystem restorer working to spread understanding on the key role of biodiversity in shaping the climate and the water, carbon, nutrient and energy cycles we rely on. She is passionate about climate change adaptation and mitigation and the ways that community-led ecosystem restoration can fight global climate change while improving the livelihood and equity of human communities. Having grown up in New York City and lived in cities all her life, Maya is interested in creating more natural infrastructure, biodiversity, and access to nature and ecological connection in urban areas.
At Bio4Climate, we LOVE beavers. We’re borderline obsessed with them (or maybe not so borderline) because they do SO much for Earth’s ecosystems, natural cycles, and biodiversity. These furry, water-loving creatures are finally beginning to receive the recognition they deserve in mainstream media now that more people see how their existence and behaviors lead to numerous benefits for everyone’s climate resilience.
We are one of the many organizations advocating for their reintroduction across North America and some places in Europe. For this reason, when I spotted one on a hike during my time in Tennessee, I did what any Bio4Climate team member would do: jump in excitement, yell out “Oh my gosh it’s a BEAVER!” and take a picture that I’ll treasure forever.
Photo by Tania Roa
The rockin’ rodent
Beavers live in family groups of up to eight members. Offspring stay with their parents for up to two years, meanwhile helping with newborns, food gathering, and dam building. To create dams, beavers use their large teeth to cut down trees and lug over branches, rocks, and mud until they successfully slow down the flow of water. These dams include lodges that beavers use as bedrooms and to escape from predators. Dams are designed according to the water’s speed: in steady water, the dam is built straight across, and in rushing water the dam is built with a curve. These engineers build their dams in a way that makes them nearly indestructible against storms, fires, and floods.
Look at those bright orange teeth! The color is thanks to an iron-rich protective coating. Beaver teeth grow continuously, and require gnawing on trees for trimming.
Beaver dams are what make these rodents, the largest ones in North America, so special. When dams alter the flow of water, they create ponds that stretch out a river into a wide wetland. These ponds filter pollutants and store nutrients that then attract a variety of wildlife including fish seeking nurseries, amphibians looking for shelter, and mammals and birds searching for food and water sources.
The abundance of wildlife and the storage of necessary nutrients in beaver ponds classifies these places as biodiversity hotspots, meaning they are “biogeographic regions with significant levels of biodiversity that are threatened by human habitation” (Wikipedia). Beaver ponds also store sediment, and this helps recharge groundwater. Due to the sheer wetness of these ponds, and how deep the water filters into the soil, fires are often extinguished as soon as they reach a beaver pond. In this way, beavers are nature’s firefighters, of which we need many more in areas where extreme heat is increasing.
“There’s a beaver for that” — Ben Goldfarb
Wetland Creation
Biodiversity Support
Water Filtration
Erosion Control
Wildlife Habitat
Flood Management
Drought Resilience
Forest Fire Prevention
Carbon Sequestration
They’re Cool (pun intended)
Beavers are considered ‘ecosystem engineers’ because they actively shift the landscape by fluctuating the flow of water and the placement of plants and trees. Muskrats, minks, and river otters also find refuge in beaver lodges. When beavers take down trees, they create pockets of refuge for insects. Using their constructive talents, beavers significantly modify the region and, in turn, create much-needed habitat for many. Numerous creatures rely on beaver dams for survival, and the local ecosystem dramatically changes when a beaver family is exterminated; for these reasons, we also consider them ‘keystone species.’
Disliked dam builders
Despite the positive impact beavers have on biodiversity and ecosystems, we humans have viewed them as fur, pests, and perfume. By 1900, beavers went nearly extinct across Europe and North America. We hunted them for their fur in response to fashion trends, and trapped them for their anal musk glands, or castors, which produce castoreum, a secretion that beavers use to mark their homes and that humans use to make perfume. When beaver populations plummeted, so did the number of dams and ponds, meaning vast swaths of land were drastically altered during this time – and not for the better. To this day, we kill beavers when they wander into military bases or near urban areas since we see their dam-building behaviors as potentially damaging to man-made properties.
Thankfully, as more ‘Beaver Believers’ speak out against these practices and more authorities recognize the importance of beaver benefits, these rodents are beginning to return to their original homes. California recently passed a program specifically for beaver reintroduction efforts across the state. Washington, Utah, and Massachusetts are other states witnessing the return of beavers. People like Skip Lisle of Beaver Deceivers are designing culverts that prevent beaver dams from damaging infrastructure, but allow the beavers to create their biodiverse-filled ponds. These are just a few examples of the ways we can coexist with beavers, and in turn heal our communities.
There are places in North America where water sources are decreasing for all living things, and in other regions the amount of rainfall is increasing while the amount of snow is decreasing. These weather conditions are detrimental to all of our health, unless we welcome back beavers.
As the effects of climate change and biodiversity loss increase, storing water, preventing runoff and erosion, and protecting biodiverse hotspots become more important by the hour. By restoring local water cycles, beaver ponds provide a source of life. By spreading water channels and creating new ones, beaver dams prevent flooding and stave off wildfires. By encouraging the cycling and storage of nutrients, beaver ponds nurture soil health and that leads to carbon sequestration. We all have something to gain from beavers as long as we allow them to do what they do best: build those dams.
To learn more about beavers, watch the video below and the two in the ‘Sources’ section. We also highly recommend Ben Goldfarb’s Eager: The Surprising Secret Life of Beavers and Why They Matter for further reading.
Dragonflies were some of the first winged insects to evolve, about 300 million years ago. When they first evolved, their wingspans measured up to two feet! In contrast, today’s dragonflies have wingspans of about two to five inches.
Although in this feature we speak of dragonflies in a general sense, there are more than 5,000 known species of them, each with its own characteristics.
Dragonflies begin as larvae. During this almost 2-year stage, they live in wetlands such as lakes or ponds across every continent except Antarctica. Despite their small size, their appetite is huge, and they are not picky eaters. In their larval to nymph stages, they will eat anything they can grasp including tadpoles, other insect larvae, small fish, mosquitos, and even other dragonfly larvae.
After their nymph stage, dragonflies emerge as if they were reviving from the dead. They crawl out of the water, split open their body along their abdomen, and reveal their four wings- along with their new identity. Then, they spend hours to days drying themselves before they can take to the skies as the insects we know and love.
Once a dragonfly is dry and ready to fly, their voracious appetite continues. As usual, they’ll eat almost anything, but now they will only eat what they catch mid-flight. These feasts consist of butterflies, moths, bees, mosquitoes, midges, and, yet again, even other dragonflies. They seem to embrace the motto “every fly for themself.”
Check out their dramatic transformation:
Engineered for Optimal Flight
Dragonflies emerge after their larval stage as masters of the air. Their four independently moving wings and their long, thin bodies help them maneuver the skies. They hunt and mate in mid-air and they can fly up to 60 miles per hour. They are also able to fly backwards, sideways, and every which way in a matter of seconds or less.
This incredible ability requires excellent vision. (Or else we would likely see them crash much more often!) Thankfully, dragonflies have just the answer. Their head mostly consists of their eyes. Their multiple lenses allow them to see nearly everything around them, covering every angle except one: right behind them. The insect’s vision not only reaches far and wide, but allows them to see the world at faster speeds than we can.
How are human activities impacting dragonflies?
Since dragonflies consume a variety of organisms, and rely on healthy bodies of water to grow, they are considered important environmental indicators. In other words, when dragonfly populations plummet, conservationists have something to worry about. Nymphs and dragonflies will eat just about anything, so they will only go hungry if there is no available food. Looks like those big appetites came in handy after all.
Declines in dragonfly populations also indicate water pollution and habitat loss. These are consequences of agricultural methods that favor chemicals and synthetic fertilizers, and forest management that disregards the importance of maintaining balance within an ecosystem. One solution is regenerative agriculture which ensures fewer toxins in our environment.
Overall, the more green (and blue) space for wildlife, the more likely these iconic insects will thrive.
Tania graduated from Tufts University with a Master of Science in Animals and Public Policy. Her academic research projects focused on wildlife conservation efforts, and the impacts that human activities have on wild habitats. As a writer and activist, Tania emphasizes the connections between planet, human, and animal health. She is a co-founder of the podcast Closing the Gap, and works on outreach and communications for Sustainable Harvest International. She loves hiking, snorkeling, and advocating for social justice.
.jpg){kind=link}