The Rare and Spooky Black Seadevil Anglerfish, on Video
Good luck sleeping tonight. The video above shows the extremely rare female black seadevil, a terrifying-looking anglerfish replete with a large mouth and rows of sharp teeth, famous for its use of a “luminescent orb” hanging from their heads to lure prey.
The deep-water beast (admittedly small, at around 4 inches long) was captured on camera by a Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute (MBARI) submersible vehicle, apparently marking the first time that the anglerfish has been caught on video “alive and at depth.”
The MBARI scientists came across the anglerfish at a depth of around 2,000 feet, but the fish are known to live at depths up to four times that. Which, obviously, explains the irregularity of seadevil sightings. According to MBARI research division chairman Bruce Robison, this was only the third sighting of the species in the Monterey Canyon in the past 25 years.
Save the Parasites!
Species reintroductions are some of the most dramatic and compelling stories in conservation. Bringing back wolves, black-footed ferrets, condors, and other animals to landscapes that have lost them gives a satisfying sense of closure. Wrong righted; ecosystem healed.
And the conservation biologists who undertake these reintroductions often emphasize that it isn’t just about preserving the species that they are bringing back but restoring their ecological linkages to other species, thereby reknotting the web of life.
But conservationists may be prone to the cuddle-centrism that afflicts so many of us, preferring charismatic animals over other species. Ironically, at least two species reintroductions have been responsible for the permanent severing of one of the tightest ecological relationships in nature: that between parasite and host.
Environmental historian Dolly Jørgensen of Umeå University in Sweden explains in a paper published in Conservation Biology this month:
When the black-footed ferret (Mustela nigripes) was deloused during captive breeding after extinction in the wild, the ferret louse (Neotrichodectes sp.) may have become extinct. Similarly, the louse Colpocephalum californianus was intentionally removed from the endangered California condor (Gymnogyps californianus) during captive breeding and is presumed extinct. It is unfortunate that these programs did not account for the parasite’s conservation.
Um … what? Here we have expensive, complex, and much-lauded programs to bring back species from the brink of extinction, and then we just rinse two other highly endangered species down the drain with the Rid?
Presumably the intention was to ensure the health of the precious remaining condors and ferrets. But there are ways to achieve both objectives. Jesus Perez at the University of Jaén in Granada, Spain, suggests that researchers working on reintroducing the Iberian Lynx manually remove its species-specific lice and transfer them to captive lynxes, or raise them in the lab until the wild Iberian lynx population is robust enough to allow them back out in the wild.
All species are important, and adding back only the cute and charming ones undercuts the notion that reintroduction programs are about ecosystems, not just aesthetics. I’m considering making up some bumper stickers that say “Save the Whales … and Their Ecto- and Endo-Parasites!”
Thanks for Nothing, New York City
In 1890, representatives from a group called the American Acclimatization Society released 40 pairs of nonnative European starlings into Central Park. The release was possibly part of a larger effort to introduce to North America every species mentioned in the works of Shakespeare. (Henry IV, Part 1, Act 1, Scene 3: “I’ll have a starling shall be taught to speak / Nothing but ‘Mortimer,’ and give it him / To keep his anger still in motion.”) But more likely it was just to see if the birds would stick. Stick they did, and the European starling spread from New York to become an invasive pest and perhaps the most numerous bird in the country.
In 1904, a forester with the Bronx Zoo noticed that a fungus was killing his American chestnut trees. The fungus had been carried on decorative Asian chestnut trees brought by nurseries to New York as early as 1876. The Asian variety had long ago evolved resistance to the fungus, but the American species had no defense. The carnage was astonishing: The chestnut blight killed billions of American chestnuts, which once grew on nearly 200 million acres of eastern forest, all but completely eliminating the species from its native range in less than 50 years.
Thanks for nothing, New York City.
There’s no doubt that a lot of great things got their start in the Big Apple: hip-hop, the roller coaster, Scrabble. But we shouldn’t forget that it’s also been the site of introduction for a great many of our country’s worst invasive species. As the city has changed the American landscape culturally, so too has it changed the landscape physically. And not for the better.
I know you know this already, but in case you didn’t: Invasive species are awful. They belly flop onto ecosystems, throwing everything out of whack. They prey on creatures unprepared for defense. They muscle out native species looking for a home or food. They destroy crops and fisheries. They’re just crappy, and a lot of them came here first through New York.
Sometimes introductions were intentional, as in the case of the nitwits from the Acclimatization Society, who released not just starlings but also pheasants, Java sparrows, brown trout, largemouth bass, and any other “foreign varieties of the animal and vegetable kingdom as may be useful or interesting.” In the spring of 1851, Colonel Nicholas Pike of the Brooklyn Institute released eight pairs of European house sparrows into that borough. The birds feasted on grain spilled from the feedbags of thousands of city horses, and within just 30 years of their introduction to Brooklyn, house sparrows had spread from coast to coast and numbered in the millions.
Other times the introductions came as a result of good old-fashioned New York opportunism. House finches taken from the southwestern United States in the 1940s were sold in New York as “Hollywood finches.” They inevitably escaped and have since spread all across the East. Mute swans from Europe were sold to romantic collectors in Long Island and the Hudson Valley in the early 1900s and have expanded throughout the Northeast, using their long necks to outcompete other plant-eating waterfowl.
Most times, though, it was accidental. New York’s busy port brings ships from all over the world, sometimes carrying invasive cargo. In the 1980s, sections of pipe were imported from China for a sewer project in Brooklyn. Burrowed into the wooden pallets that held the pipe were large, voracious, black-and-white Asian long-horned beetles. The beetles were first found in Greenpoint, Brooklyn in 1996, killing trees by eating them from the inside out. They’ve since killed more than 80,000 trees, are spreading throughout the Northeast, and threaten almost all of America’s hardwood species.
And those are just the ones we know for sure. Pinpointing the introduction of a species is tricky business—they don’t get their passports stamped, after all. A bunch of invasives probably started in New York, though I can’t say for sure. Purple loosestrife, a European weed that has invaded marshland pretty much everywhere except Florida, snuck into the United States in ship ballast, likely in New York harbor. Garlic mustard has invaded forests all over the Northeast and Midwest, but it was first seen on Long Island in 1868. Cheatgrass was first discovered in New York in 1861, possibly the result of contaminated grain shipments, and now is found in all 50 states and is a major driver of wildlfires in the West, where it covers an area more than 4,000 times the size of Manhattan.
New York isn’t our only point of introduction for invasives, of course. Asian carp were introduced in Arkansas. Zebra mussels were first sighted in the Great Lakes. South Florida is practically an open-air zoo for introduced species, hosting all manner of tropical lizards, birds, and plants. Texans looking for exotic things to shoot introduced several species of Asian and African ungulates, including nilgai, blackbuck, and axis deer, that have since established wild populations. These nonnative creatures aren’t much of a threat to spread to other parts of the country though, because the habitats that allow them to thrive—arid in Texas or tropical in South Florida—are limited. New York’s temperate climate isn’t restrictive at all. To paraphrase Frank Sinatra, if species can make it in New York City, they’ll make it anywhere.
Of course, there’s one nonnative species that hasn’t been mentioned yet, one that’s become as symbolic of the city as a floppy slice of pizza: the rock dove, the pigeon. Oddly enough, the pigeon is one of the few widespread invasives that didn’t get its start in New York; it made its North American debut in 1606, in Port Royal, Nova Scotia. Thanks for nothing, Canada.
The World Recently Protected an Area Almost the Size of Australia
Some good news for the environment: The world is on track to meet its goals for expanding protected areas by 2020. On Thursday the United Nations Environment Programme released a report on these targets, part of a larger set of initiatives aimed at protecting biodiversity. It’s not quite time to pull out the organ and sing the Hallelujah chorus, however.
In terms of sheer area, we’re doing great. Since 2010, countries around the world have designated new protected lands that add up to 6.1 million square kilometers—an area almost as big as Australia (7.7 million square kilometers). Protected areas are a proven, cost-effective way to address climate change, food insecurity, and other threats to human health and well-being, according to the report, Protected Planet 2014. They’re also essential for protecting biodiversity, which contributes a significant chunk to the global economy. The only problem with these newly protected areas is that they don’t necessarily include the places most important for biodiversity and ecosystem services.
Last month, alarming reports on biodiversity showed just how precarious the conservation effort is. The World Wildlife Fund reported that the planet’s population of vertebrates is about half what it was 40 years ago. Blame falls on the usual culprits: habitat loss, hunting and fishing, and climate change. Later in October, the U.N. reported that the world is on track to meet only five of its 55 biodiversity protection goals for 2020, and has worsened or made no progress on 15. Six of those target indicators involved expansion and management of protected areas. Now Protected Planet provides a closer look at these six targets and what it will take to get all of them on track.
By 2020, the U.N. aims to conserve at least 17 percent of terrestrial and inland water areas and 10 percent of coastal and marine areas. Areas of “particular importance for biodiversity and ecosystem services” should receive special attention, according to the report, and protected areas should also be ecologically representative of the planet’s ecosystem as a whole.
In terms of area, we are still on track, but the bigger problems emerge upon closer inspection of what areas are being protected, and how well they align with areas that most need protection.
Biodiversity protection is the first sticking point. In 2013, Protected Planet reports only 22 percent of Important Bird and Biodiversity Areas and 23 percent of Alliance for Zero Extinction sites were completely protected. To help policymakers better determine what areas to protect, a global standard is being finalized that incorporates both of those site classifications.
If there’s one thing we’re actually good at when it comes to environmental issues, it’s talking about them. Public awareness of biodiversity has improved in both developed and developing nations (albeit to varying degrees), the U.N. noted in October. But for all our talking, we might not be driving the right message home: Studies indicate that while people know biodiversity loss is a global issue, they don’t perceive it as a local concern. They also are not sure what direct actions are beneficial or harmful to biodiversity.
The majority of the U.N.’s broader biodiversity targets can still be met, the October report said, but it won’t be easy. Individuals, organizations, and governments will have to make some changes.
On a macro scale, societies need to use land, water, energy, and other resources more efficiently. The report also called for “major transformations of food systems,” noting that agriculture and related activities account for 70 percent of projected loss of terrestrial biodiversity. Efforts for conservation, Protected Planet suggests, should focus especially on preventing biodiversity decline and extinction.
Simple consumer choices can also impact biodiversity. Some of these are obvious, like recycling and not buying things made from endangered animal parts; turning lights off; closing the faucet on our sprinklers when it’s raining. Some are more subtle: When was the last time you checked to see where your new wood floor was coming from? WWF estimates that each year the world loses an area of natural forest the size of Greece. The Forest Stewardship Council seal on a product means it was legally logged, and therefore more eco-friendly to use. Just food for thought next time you redecorate. And there’s always local politics, where smaller environmental battles are fought. Those seemingly small decisions add up.
All of this boils down to one thing: We’re making progress, but if we want to continue living on a biologically diverse planet, we’re going to need to do more, and do it better—both as individuals and societies. Protecting the environment involves incremental steps—the turning over of several small leaves, if you will.
Bulldogs Are Inexplicably Overrated. Why Not Adopt a Welsh Springer Spaniel?
Excerpted from Knowledge Is Beautiful: Impossible Ideas, Invisible Patterns, Hidden Connections—Visualized by David McCandless, out now from Harper Design.
Dear Discovery Channel: A Man Getting Eaten Alive by an Anaconda Isn’t Educational
“You have to go in head first” when getting eaten alive by an anaconda, according to the Discovery Channel’s sneak peek of Eaten Alive, its newest affront to televised science. On Dec. 7, Discovery will air one brave man’s quest into (and back out of) the belly of the beast—an anaconda, to be exact. This move is only the newest entry in a growing collection of pseudoscience and outright fiction clogging the airwaves of the once-educational TV channel.
On its surface, watching a “naturalist and wildlife filmmaker” survive feeding himself to a giant snake in the Amazon sounds pretty awesome—unless, of course, you’re the giant snake. But it’s gratuitous cruelty. If this were an attempt to understand snake digestion, the filmmakers could easily feed the snake a camera. If this were about gawking at a snake eating something huge, there’s always that YouTube video of the python eating a crocodile—a true act of nature wherein no animal was duped into wasting its energy eating (and then regurgitating) a guy who covered himself in pig’s blood. Discovery has already shot the program, and it says both man and snake are alive and well. In fact, stuntman Paul Rosolie has been tweeting about the program.
This is about pushing the envelope and garnering shock views—which is fair enough, until you factor in an abused snake and the fact that this is part of a series of unscientific endeavors by a channel whose reputation at least somewhat still involves education. A petition to stop the program from airing has garnered more than 20,000 signatures. Discovery told People magazine that it consulted three herpetologists before signing off on the stunt, but that didn’t stop PETA from calling it animal cruelty. Snakes often regurgitate their prey, but it’s usually a response to stress or outside threats, said David Steen, a wildlife ecologist at Auburn University. He added that retrieving a food item from a snake would be “stressful at the very least” to the snake.
“Done wrong, I can easily see how the snake could be injured,” Steen said. “For example, if I were to yank something out of a snake's stomach (rather than have the snake regurgitate it on its own), I would be concerned about causing internal injuries.”
Steen said he hoped the show had some educational goals, and noted it certainly has more potential to draw viewers than feeding a small camera to a snake would. Perhaps these viewers might become interested in snakes and seek out more educational material after watching. But he also fears the motivation here is “primarily exploitation of animals for ratings.”
This concern has been voiced before about Discovery programming. Shark Week, arguably one of Discovery’s biggest pieces of viewer bait, has been accused of capitalizing on people’s fear of sharks while simultaneously misinforming the public about an animal that is actually in danger. It’s also not the channel’s first foray into shock programming—last Sunday it aired Nik Wallenda traversing the Chicago skies on a tightrope with no safety net or tether. Animal Planet, which is also owned by Discovery Communications, has made two documentaries on mermaids that are so ineffectively marked as fictional that the U.S. government has had to issue a statement informing the public that mermaids aren’t real. It’s also home to Finding Bigfoot. (I’m not going to elaborate on this.) The History Channel, which is owned by Disney, airs shows about aliens. And let’s not even talk about TLC, another Discovery Communications channel, which has long stopped calling itself “The Learning Channel.”
When did educational television become so unenlightening?
It’s not a new question, but the answer isn’t easy to stomach: It’s kind of viewers’ fault. TV channels, after all, are just businesses. As businesses, it’s their job to make money. And to make money, they need viewers—and this is where our culpability lies. Put simply, if people didn’t reliably swarm in to watch these shows, they wouldn’t continue to air. Animal Planet hit record viewership last year with its second mermaid documentary. If it makes money, why stop?
“Somewhere along the line they realized that airing sensational nonsense tended to generate higher ratings and more advertising revenue than the wildlife documentaries I remember growing up,” Steen said. “So, it's a no-brainer. Education is not their mission.”
The problem is that many viewers still don’t know that—ask all the people who tweeted about mermaids. These channels have enduring reputations as informational, accurate sources. These don’t get undone in a few years—or even a decade, necessarily. The result is a viewership that can get severely duped, find out they’ve been misinformed, and then develop a mistrust not only for these channels, but for science in general, Steen said.
“In many cases, these shows even foster a distrust towards scientists and the scientific method; this was particularly evident in the wake of the programs making the case that mermaids exist or megalodon never went extinct.”
For most of us, channels like Discovery are our everyday link to the information about science and the environment. But now you can actually come out of these shows knowing less information than when you tuned in—again, ask people who got uneducated by watching documentaries about species that don’t exist today.
An anaconda eating a guy doused in animal blood might not misinform anyone—it’s not like anyone believes this happens in everyday life (I hope). But it plays into a larger business of exploitation and misinformation. Not to jump down anybody’s throat, but it would be nice if these channels used their influence for good, not evil—and for viewers to realize their voyeurism is turning the exploitation of animals into a veritable cash cow.
Watch an Orphaned Baby Sea Otter Learn How to Act Like a Sea Otter
Awwwww. That is all. The video above shows an orphaned, 6-pound female sea otter pup arriving at her new home, the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago. It also shows, essentially, her first attempts at … well, being an otter.
Somehow separated from her mother near the San Francisco coast five weeks ago, the absurdly cute young pup—for now known by the placeholder name “Pup 681”—was discovered when a jogger heard her (probably soul-crushingly sad) cries for help. Per CBS News, the pup was first taken to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, a top facility for sea otter rehabilitation, before an arrangement was made for her to be sent to Shedd permanently.
Now that she’s there, her new aquarium family will need to collectively fill the role of the pup’s mother. The first order of business? “We have to teach her to groom,” Christy Sterling, Shedd’s assistant supervisor of penguins and otters, told CBS Chicago. “We’ll put her on a white towel and get a white washcloth and she kind of has picked up on working on spots herself, but we’ll help out as well and she’ll learn to rub on the white towel and get that water out of her fur.”
In addition to the huge self-esteem boost that (likely) comes with sporting a clean, dry coat, the grooming process is also essential to her health, as sea otters are kept warm not by blubber, but rather through the insulation provided by their coats. Which makes sense, given that their fur is the thickest of all mammals.
Once she’s gotten the hang of that, one imagines she’ll move on to learning the really important things in the Standard Sea Otter Behavior playbook—like adorably holding hands with fellow otters while she sleeps.
Watch a Porcupine Go Head-to-Head with a Pride of Lions
Note to Democrats: When you're outnumbered, surrounded by an angry horde that is licking its chops at the thought of feasting on your defeated carcass, this is how you respond. The living political metaphor in question—and on display in the video above—is a porcupine, and it shows its exemplary resilience by single-handedly fighting off a pride of 17(!) lions.
Captured on camera at the Londolozi Game Reserve in South Africa by guide Lucien Beaumont, the encounter looked, until the very end, to be lights out for the prickly rodent. But the little guy just would not go gentle into that good night. While the circling pride had every advantage—size, numbers, top-of-the-food-chain status—the would-be victim had a combination of some serious tail-shaking (called a “rattle”) and impressive fearlessness, and the porcupine was helped by a general reluctance on the part of the lions to take a face full of barbs. That all kept it alive and off of the dinner menu.
As you’ll see, contrary to common belief, porcupines don’t actually shoot their quills, but that clearly doesn’t matter much in confrontations like these. Per Beaumont, “if the porcupine manages to get close enough to a predator, it does not shoot its quills, as many people may think. Rather the quills have micro-barbs, which hook into the face or paws of a predator that may get too close.”
In addition to quills likely being exactly as painful as that sounds, quills can break off, leaving parts embedded in the skin of the predator and often resulting in major infection. Apparently, that was ample motivation for the lions to ultimately retreat, stomachs empty.
That, and a valiant display of heart. Lots and lots of heart.
GoPro Captures Rare POV Footage of a Lion on the Hunt
Is there currently a scenario rattling around your head in which you could possibly outrun, outwit, or outhunt a lioness on the prowl? Well, you should probably go ahead and delete that one from your mental checklist of survival skills. Thanks to the man aptly dubbed “the lion whisperer,” we can now see, firsthand (in the video above), just how lethal lions are on the hunt.
Animal behaviorist Kevin Richardson’s close, familylike relationship with a pride of lions outside of Pretoria, South Africa (of which I am more jealous than anything in the world) allowed him to strap a GoPro camera to the back of Meg, an impressive lioness whom Richardson describes as “boisterous” and “game for anything.” Once the action cam was mounted between her imposing, muscle-bound shoulders, it didn’t take long before it captured some action, as Meg quickly took off in pursuit of her next meal.
“Lions are what is known as an apex predator. They’re the top of the food chain, very strong, very agile, and very fast,” says Richardson in a voiceover, as the POV footage of Meg stalking her prey rolls. “If they do hunt alone, they’ll generally sneak up as close as possible to the prey, and then make a sprint for it.”
Check, and checkmate. Meg sticks to the apex predator playbook the whole way, the unlucky waterbuck barely entering the camera’s view before it’s in her mouth. Silent, fast, and deadly—the poor thing never stood a chance. Thus proving, once again, that lions are the most badass animals on the planet.
For more on Meg, Kevin, and why we should all be doing more to protect the world’s remaining lion population, you can watch a short documentary here.
Big, Old, Fat, Fertile, Female Fish Keep Fisheries Afloat
No, the name is not an insult. Big, old, fat, fertile (or fecund) female fish, or BOFFFF, is a term of respect among scientists. These fish are actually a much better breeding bet than their younger, more svelte counterparts, according to a new study published in a special issue of the ICES Journal of Marine Science. The merits of these older (certainly wiser) aquatic matriarchs have long gone underappreciated. BOFFFFs are prolific baby-makers—which means they’re better at helping fisheries stay sustainable and fend off stock collapse.
Unfortunately, their ample bodies also make great trophies for fishermen.
The study compiled research from around the world and found that BOFFFFs are vital in keeping fishery stocks sustainable.
These fish produce more and larger eggs than smaller mature females. Their eggs, the study found, may also develop into larvae that grow faster and are less susceptible to starvation. BOFFFFs also enjoy longer spawning seasons, and might spawn in different places from their slimmer counterparts. These features, the study points out, hint that BOFFFFs are simply a better bet because they can outlive unfavorable reproduction conditions, and still be ready to “spawn profusely” next season. Scientists call this “the storage effect,” but most people would probably just call it “being a tough cookie.”
"Increasingly, fisheries managers are realizing that saving some big old fish is essential to ensure that fished populations are stable and sustainable," said study author Mark Hixon of the University of Hawai'i at Mānoa in a press release.
But despite their survival savvy, keeping BOFFFFs alive might not be as simple as it sounds. Fishermen love a good trophy, and bigger fish also just look more delectable than punier fish. The study says the two most viable options to protect these fertile females are “slot limits” and marine reserves. The former is regulation that says only medium-size fish may be captured—none smaller or larger than a strict size limit. The latter makes certain parts of the ocean off-limits to fishing entirely, which allows some fish to spawn through their entire lifespan, and for their offspring to replenish fished populations outside the reserve.
These ideas aren’t new, but the study suggests one factor slowing their adoption is the perceived difficulty of implementing them. But, the study also says, “Change is in the air.” The study says stock assessments, sets of biological information that helps fisheries regulate their stocks, for 12 of 19 rockfish species now include age or size-dependent relationships with relative fecundity—in effect giving BOFFFFs their due. Perhaps having this information on hand could turn the tide and motivate fisheries to keep their big, old, fat, fertile, female fish around longer.