Species data for understanding biodiversity dynamics: The what, where and when of species occurrence data collection (2021)Petersen et al., Ecological Solutions and Evidence, https://doi.org/10.1002/2688-8319.12048
With the rise of the internet, GPS’ and smartphones, the amount of openly available species occurrence data has reached previously unfathomable numbers. This increase is mostly due to the engagement of the citizen scientist – regular people getting out there in nature and taking part in data collection and research. From people taking photos of flowers in their backyard to organised salamander spotting safaris, citizen scientists have opened up data that previously would have cost massive amounts to produce.
The Global Biodiversity Information Facility (GBIF) is the largest hub of such data, collating data ranging from amateur observation to museum specimens to professional surveys. It is well-known, however, that this kind of openly available data comes with a myriad of caveats: some species groups are reported much more than others (I am looking at you, bird-watchers), and “roadside bias” (see Did You Know?) haunts the records. But how are the records distributed among different land-cover types on a country-scale, does it differ between groups of conservation concern, and does it depend on who the reporters are?
The earth is no longer dark at night – artificial lighting has degraded the dark nighttime conditions that many species have evolved with throughout their evolutionary history. This change is only accelerating, with human expansion and intensity of radiance continuing to increase annually. We already know that elevated light levels can disrupt ecological processes like pollination or migration, as well as have a litany of negative effects on individual species, from physiological stress to predation risk. But it’s hard to get an idea of how the increase in ‘light pollution’ affects free-roaming wildlife, especially large mammals, and especially at scales relevant for making conservation policy.
In areas like the American west, the rapid growth of urban areas and the accompanying spread of light pollution create a rapidly changing ecosystem, one that sees many conflicts between humans and wildlife. One particularly species of particular interest is the mule deer (Odocoileus hemionus), which seeks out sources of forage on the edges of and within towns and cities (e.g. parks, farms), especially in arid regions. The primary predator of mule deer – the cougar (Puma concolor) – also navigates and hunts near human development where their prey congregate, but tend to avoid human presence more so than deer.
Today’s authors wanted to assess how artificial lighting, both where it occurs and its intensity, can shape the behaviors and predator-prey interactions of these species across the American West ranging from the edges of bright urban regions, such as Salt Lake City (Utah) and Reno (Nevada), to areas receiving minimal light pollution like Grand Canyon National Park.
What They Did
The authors used a massive dataset that included GPS-locations from 263 mule deer, 56 cougars, and 1,562 locations where cougars successfully killed mule deer. The resulting location data were combined with estimates of anthropogenic light pollution (more on this in Did You Know?).
Several different analyses were performed on the combined light and GPS-location data, along with other variables representing environmental (e.g., snow cover, land cover, terrain) and human factors (e.g., distance to roads, housing density). The aim was to figure out whether A) light has any influence on the behavior of each species, B) cougars avoid areas with high light pollution, allowing deer to forage freely wherever and whenever they want (the ‘predator shield hypothesis’), or C) cougars exploit the higher densities of deer seeking forage around areas with elevated light pollution (e.g., parks, golf courses, agriculture; the ‘ecological trap hypothesis’).
Did You Know: A Space Agency’s Ecological Impact
In this study we used remote sensing data to determine the amount of light pollution in a given environment. Yet the sensors only pick up the total amount of light, and can’t tell us what is a product of our activity and what is a natural source of light. To separate the two, we used light data which was recently developed by the U.S. National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA). This dataset removes the contributions of natural sources of light (e.g., moonlight, fire, atmospheric spray) from our data and results in values of just the human-created nighttime light emissions.
What They Found
The behaviors of both species changed greatly with levels of light pollution, as did the predation risk for deer. The behaviour changed across different scales as well. Cougars killed deer in study sites with the high amounts of light pollution, but within those sites (e.g., edge of Salt Lake City, Utah) cougars selected to hunt and kill in the relatively darkest locations. In contrast, in the darker study areas, cougars killed deer in areas with the relatively more light pollution than the surrounding area. However, even though cougars killed deer in the darkest spots within the bright urban interface, those locations generally had much higher levels of light pollution than the brightest kill sites in the low light pollution study areas.
Deer living in brighter urban areas tended to forage at night, potentially to avoid direct human interactions. This shift might have benefited deer by avoiding humans, but as they sought out more natural and dark locations in these areas, cougars would wait in ambush.
In the end, the authors concluded that their findings fell in a gray zone between the predator shield and ecological trap hypotheses dependent on scale. Areas with high levels of light and subsequent human activities provide excellent foraging opportunities for ungulates (as this study measured as well), but adaptable predators can follow and take advantage – at least in environments that they feel are safe enough.
This is an observational study, so it’s hard to fully tease apart what effects are driven by light and what are driven by other human factors. We did our best to account for the other more traditional sources of the human footprint, reporting effect sizes for each, but there’s always a chance we’re attributing some effects to light pollution that could be caused by some other aspect of our presence.
Work like this shines a light on (pun intended) how different species will respond to the ongoing urbanization trends humans are driving in much of the planet.
Although many wildlife ecology studies consider various human alterations to habitats and the consequent changes in animal behavior, most studies fail to consider the sensory environment and the pollutants (e.g., noise, light) that can impact wildlife populations in their analyses. How wildlife use an ecosystem can impact everything from human-wildlife interactions to pulses of nutrients to the soil based on shifting areas of kill sites/carcasses.
The evolution of different methods of seed dispersal has played a huge role in shaping plant diversity and distribution. Earlier plants could only use the water or wind to disperse their offspring, but eventually plants evolved the ability to harness the movement of animals, letting their seeds disperse often further and more efficiently than before.
Seeds are also a vital form of food for many species, including small rodents and insects. Larger animals too, including wild boars, bears, and coyotes who will get stuck into berries when there’s plenty around. This leads to them leaving berry seeds mixed in with their faeces. We might be deterred by the idea of picking dinner out of another animals poop, but many of those rodents and insects don’t mind.
But what about when those faeces are from one of your predators? Do you still want that seed, or should you get the hell out of an area clearly inhabited by a threat to your livelihood? The answers to these questions can determine which seeds get left where, which in turn can determine where plants end up taking root and spreading to. That’s the focus of today’s study.
Despite the incredible variation seen in nature when it comes to flora and fauna, it always seems like the two types that most people know are predators and prey. Prey animals being those that eat plants (or other animals), and the predators being those that eat those prey animals. Because prey animals must not only eat food, but try to avoid becoming food for something else, they must always be on the lookout. This watchfulness and awareness is what creates a “landscape of fear” (See Did You Know?), but variation is inherent to the natural world, and there are likely many things that prey animals consider when they pick where they decide to forage. Today’s authors wanted to investigate what factors influence the prey animals choice of foraging areas, and if that selection varies with the environment during the dry season when there isn’t much food available.
Bowler et al. (2020) Impacts of predator-mediated interactions along a climatic gradient on the population dynamics of an alpine bird. Proceedings of the Royal Society B, 287, https://doi.org/10.1098/rspb.2020.2653.
Whether or not a species will survive in an area can usually be broken down into two broad categories: how suitable the environmental characteristics of that area are (temperature, elevation, rainfall), and how it interacts with the other species found nearby. Early ecological theory predicted that in harsh environments, how a species interacts with other species wouldn’t matter as much, and would only come into play when the area was easier for the species to inhabit.
Yet more modern work often contradicts this theory. For instance, the Alternative Prey Hypothesis (APH) suggests that in areas where there are relatively few species as a result of harsh climates, interactions between those few species will be relatively strong. For example, if a prey species declines one year, then its usual predator must find an alternative prey species. This creates an indirect interaction between the two prey species, which is particularly strong in harsh environments where there aren’t other species around.
Pelagic ecosystems (see Did You Know) make up more than 70% of the Earth’s surface, and the base of the food web is composed of primary producers like phytoplankton. Primary producers produce their own energy and provide an important service to the rest of the food web (and planet!). Not only do they provide a resource for the upper levels of the food web, but they also contribute to the global climate by making carbon available to other organisms. Because of these large-scale ramifications for any changes in phytoplankton primary production, many studies have investigated how things like nutrients, light, and temperature are able to affect phytoplankton.
A key aspect of certain phytoplankton is that they have morphological characteristics that make them more resistant to consumption by grazers further up the food web, like zooplankton. However, chytrid parasites (the same fungus that is ravaging amphibian populations the world over) are able to get around these defenses and reconnect phytoplankton to their zooplankton consumers. Chytrid infects phytoplankton, it then releases a free-living infectious stage, the zoospore, which is eaten by zooplankton. This indirect connection between inedible phytoplankton (like cyanobacteria) and zooplankton is called the mycoloop, and it can provide zooplankton with up to 40% of their food. Interestingly, studies have shown that zooplankton populations do better when their food, the inedible cyanobacteria, is infected by chytrid. Today’s study investigated how exactly chytrid is able to reduce the cyanobacteria defenses and provide zooplankton with more food.
One of the most worrying things about the global phenomena that is climate change is that we are so uncertain of its exact effects on our planet’s biodiversity. There are the more obvious questions that need to be asked, like how will warming temperatures affect species ranges, and will cold-tolerant species face significant population losses?
Yet there are other less obvious concerns out there which need to be tested. For instance, seeing as there are far more fish-like birds in Antarctica, do colder temperatures lead to birds being more fish-like? And will a warming climate therefore lead to a world devoid of fishy birds? This week’s researchers had a different theory, and used some interesting statistical techniques to test it out. The project was inspired by a particularly memorable pizza consumed by one of the researchers, in that it looked at “fishiness, birdiness, lack of fungal toxicity, and effects of prolonged heating”*.
Honey bees are one of the most familiar sights in the natural world. Even for those who know nothing about insects, many will be well acquainted with those small, black and yellow striped bugs that fly from flower to flower. Most people also know that bees live in hives, but what you may not know is that these hives make honey bees the target for many predators and opportunistic parasites. A large group of animals living together in one spot is like an all you can eat buffet for a wide variety of species that have evolved to exploit just such a collection of resources. One of the bee’s most notorious enemies is the giant hornet, an insect that has become rather famous in my home country due to its recent invasion. These large, well-armored predators not only pick off bees one-by-one, but groups of them can slaughter an entire hive of bees within a matter of hours.
The fun thing about evolution though is that when you have enemies evolve to exploit a hive, the hive has to evolve its own defenses against the enemies, otherwise they go extinct. Honey bees are known to gather into a “heat ball” (see Did You Know), but they have also been seen smearing plant matter around their nest entrances, possibly as a way of confusing the chemical-sensing ability of the giant hornets. Though researchers have seen unknown material smeared on the entrance of hives, beekeepers have reported that this material was in fact animal feces that the bees had collected. Today’s authors wanted to study if these honey bee (Apis cerana) were in fact using animal feces as one of their defenses against a formidable, but under-studied giant hornet predator, Vespa soror.
In a world with a growing human population and overfished seas, farming fish (aquaculture) could be a viable solution to our food security problems. Salmon aquaculture is already a massive industry worldwide, having grown substantially over the last half-century.
Yet the industry carries its own issues, one of which being its effect on wild salmon, which are of huge cultural importance to most lands that they’re found in. Wild salmon lifestyles see them migrate up rivers from the ocean to breed, with most salmon returning to the same rivers they were born in. Yet salmon escaping from fish farms have no spawning grounds to which to return, and can end up anywhere. This can result in deteriorating wild populations, with the farmed fish spreading disease and competing with the wild fish, as well as reducing wild fish health through interbreeding.
Because of this, figuring out where escaped salmon end up could be a major step forward for fish farms and local rivers alike. This week’s paper looks at what sort of variables lead to a river full of farmed salmon, and whether or not we can predict when and where they are likely to show up.
Microbes are everywhere in nature, and I don’t just mean out in the wild. They live inside of every plant and animal, including humans. These microbes can be harmful, beneficial, or do nothing to their hosts. When they help us, microbes take part in what’s called “defensive mutualism”, which is where they help their hosts fight off parasites. Benefiting from this mutualistic relationship depends on whether or not there are parasites around to defend against, as microbial defense mechanisms can harm not only the parasite but also the host itself.
For this symbiotic relationship to continue and not be selected against over time, the benefits of hosting the microbe must outweigh the costs. This is all well and good when there are always a lot of parasites to defend against, but that is not always the case. Today’s authors wanted to test how changes in parasite pressure over time affected the relationship between a defensive microbe and its host.