A kazoo might seem a world away from the spoken word. But our ability to produce its buzzing, Donald Duck-like sound at will was key in us ever developing the ability to speak at all. And while our capacity for speech is unique, my colleague Robert Shumaker and I have used the novelty instrument to show that great apes aren’t far behind.

Speech is one of the defining marks of humanhood. It is the interface of our social and societal relationships, and the baton through which individuals and generations pass information and knowledge from one to the other. Yet, how our species – and our species alone – developed such a powerful method of communication remains unclear.

Perhaps chief among the necessary tools for speech is voice control. That is, the uniquely advanced ability to engage our vocal folds to produce sounds at will, as opposed to the reflexive screams and cries that other animals produce as automatic responses to changes in their environment and physiology.

Scientists long thought that the capacity of great apes to control their voice was just as limited as that of their fellow mammals. However, recent evidence is suggesting that these views were misguided.

For instance, great apes can mimic the rhythm of speech, producing babbling vocalisations that could easily be confused with those of a Disney cartoon character (as in the video above). They can also match the pitch of a human voice (below). Such feats would be impossible if great apes could not deploy and use their voice on command in similar ways to us.

To find out more about these abilities, we gave captive orangutans at the US’s Indianapolis Zoo the opportunity play a membranophone –- a class of musical instrument that includes the kazoo.

Kazoos and other membranophones are unique in that despite their resemblance to a flute or a whistle, merely blowing a constant stream of air into them produces no sound. To activate the instrument, the player must hum or talk into the kazoo. This is because it is the bursts of air produced by our vocal folds opening and closing when we vocalise that make the membrane of the instrument vibrate, and the instrument play.

In our study, some of the orangutans activated the kazoo within minutes, producing sounds of varying pitches and durations in response to kazoo demonstrations by the human experimenters. The speed with which these orangutans changed the quality of their voices shows that they were producing the sounds at will, rather than through training – which, as any dog trainer will reassert, requires months of reflex building and conditioning.

These findings show that orangutan voice control lags not far behind that of humans. They confirm that the vocal abilities of great apes have been largely underestimated.

The fact that only some of the orangutans managed to play the kazoo shows us that the capacity and/or motivation to demonstrate vocal control differs between individuals. So one great ape can never be representative of the vocal abilities of a whole species. To understand the vocal control of apes further, scientists should develop tests tailored to match each individual ape’s limitations and drive. This won’t be a surprise to parents, teachers, and linguistic therapists, who know that children develop speech at different rates and manners, despite sharing virtually the same environment.

The call of the wild

Although precise tests such as these are only possible in controlled settings with voluntary participation from captive individuals, evidence suggests that wild orangutans also use vocal control in their natural environment to communicate and pass information between individuals and generations.

For example, wild orangutans can modify their alarm calls with hands and leaves to make them sound bigger, depending on how dangerous the predator they encounter is. Wild chimpanzees are more likely to produce snake alarm calls when group members are unaware of the threat, and selectively inform high-ranking group members that food is available – both indicators of intentional control of vocalisations.

More recently, I showed that wild orangutan mothers delay alarm calls in response to predators until there is no danger, before then informing their infants of the danger that just passed through the forest floor below. Such an ability not only indicates some degree of vocal control, but also another key prerequisite for speech – the ability to communicate about the past.

Understanding the extent to which great apes can “speak” offers clues as to how and when the various skills required for full-blown speech emerged in our evolutionary lineage. Scientists previously thought that great apes didn’t have the required brain circuitry. Now, it seems that they do. The question now is why our species used the last few million years to hone these neural capabilities, but our close cousins didn’t – or weren’t able to.

Having spent much time around orangutans, I’m certain that they possess a great many more skills and abilities than current science gives them credit for. They are truly fascinating and intelligent creatures, and we must make every effort to conserve and protect them and their habitat – not just to understand better our place in the natural world, but as a mark of respect for theirs.

Adriano Reis e Lameira, Marie Curie Fellow, School of Psychology and Neuroscience, University of St Andrews

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Top header image: Al Smith, Flickr

Ex-game ranger Timothy Van Vuuren captured this stellar example of elephant cohesiveness while on safari in South Africa's MalaMala Game Reserve. Van Vuuren came across the elephants enjoying a late-afternoon drink, and watched as the herd began heading back into the bush by way of a steep embankment. Anticipating that a young calf in the group would have difficulty scaling the bank, Van Vuuren began filming in the hopes of catching the herd's response to the toiling youngster.

"The calf was not left to struggle for too long before his family came to the rescue," Van Vuuren explained to Latest Sightings. In just a few moments, trunks were working in unison and the calf was successfully hoisted to safety (a task that was made tricker by the fact that the panicked calf selected the steepest part of the embankment for its ascent!). "We were ecstatic when they helped the little one up and over the embankment," Van Vuuren recalls.

Elephants form complex social connections and family bonds are essential to survival. "The sighting ended with the herd gathering and moving off back into the bush to continue feeding with the calf who was now staying very close to his mother after the ordeal." 

Top header image: Roger Smith/Flickr

For decades scientists and environmentalists have been sounding the alarm about shark population declines and calling for new and stronger laws to help sharks and related elasmobranch species recover from overfishing.

While globally many shark populations are still imperilled, efforts are starting to pay off as science-based management is leading to some shark population recoveries. Great white sharks on both coasts of the United States are starting to recover, as are leopard and soupfin sharks off the West Coast and seven species of sharks off the Southeast, for example.

In what has in some places become a “dog that caught the car moment,” many are wondering what we should do now that we’re starting to succeed. Or, as the title of a new paper published in the journal Environmental Conservation on this topic boldly asks, “Are we ready for elasmobranch conservation success?”

Shark conservationists have long touted the ecological benefits of healthy shark populations — predators help keep the food web in balance by eating sick and weak members of prey species — but the success of shark conservation means, quite simply, that there are more sharks around. That’s great for the health of the ocean, but it can lead to new conflicts if we don’t properly plan and prepare. The authors of the Environmental Conservation paper highlight three ways that increased shark populations can lead to new conflicts and suggest ways we can prepare.

Conflict With Fishers

Higher populations of marine predators mean that fishers trying to catch the same prey are having more competition.

“Sharks are consuming fish that are of importance or high value to communities,” says Michelle Heupel, director of the University of Tasmania’s Integrated Marine Observing System and a coauthor of the study. Shark consumption of fish can lower their abundance, leaving less for fishermen to catch. Or sometimes sharks directly “steal” catch from fishermen by consuming fish caught in fishing gear.

Another new study in the journal Ecology and Evolution has shown that shark population recoveries result in declines in the population of mid-level predatory fish such as those commonly fished by humans like snappers and groupers. Researchers found that “The eradication of illegal fishing allowed numbers of sharks and other large predatory fishes to rebound, which in turn resulted in lower numbers of smaller predatory fishes due to an increase in predation pressure,” says Conrad Speed, a postdoctoral researcher at the Australian Institute of Marine Science and the lead author of that study. “In other words, the recovery of sharks and large fish suppressed the abundance of smaller predatory species.”

Speed noted that this change in ecosystem structure represents a success in terms of ecological restoration, but it is undeniably a major change in the type and number of fish.

More Shark Bites

While the risk of a shark bite remains extremely low, simple math indicates that having more sharks in more places means that the risk will likely go up — especially as recovering shark populations move into areas where there haven’t been large sharks in decades.

“In general, people are happy to see wildlife conserved when it doesn’t inconvenience them in any way, and feelings are more mixed when we have to share space with wildlife and assume the risks that can entail,” says Catherine MacDonald, a lecturer in marine conservation at the University of Miami and the director of research and education organisation Field School, with whom I’ve collaborated on several past research projects involving human perception of sharks.

For example, in Cape Cod, Massachusetts, great white shark populations are beginning to recover, but Cynthia Wigren, CEO of the Atlantic White Shark Conservancy, says that even though it’s a conservation success story, they aren’t popping the champagne cork just yet.

In an act of good will toward the species, beachgoers there helped rescue a stranded great white in 2015 and the chance to see sharks is even attracting some tourists to the area, but after a swimmer died in 2018 from a shark bite on the Cape, public feelings are mixed.

“People no longer feel like they can enter the water without thinking about sharks and the need for heightened awareness about safety,” Wigren says. “For some in the community, having to change their behaviour when recreating in the ocean is a hard pill to swallow. We believe that conflict related to negative human-white shark interactions is the greatest threat to the continued conservation of the species.”

And then there are also economic considerations, too. While there’s a financial value to be gained from sharks aiding diving and wildlife tourism, preventing negative interactions between sharks and humans also takes resources. Money is often spent on “spotting planes, beach closures, boat patrols, and netting or fishing to reduce the size of local shark populations,” says MacDonald.

Protected Species at Risk

While the risk of humans being bit by sharks remains low, other species may not be as lucky.

More sharks means more sharks eating other animals, and sometimes those other animals are also threatened species we’re trying to manage and recover. “For example, increased shark predation on seals based on increased numbers of sharks can cause concern for the status of seal populations, ultimately leading to conflicts over protection of both sharks and seals,” Heupel says.

Sea otters in California are also threatened by rebounding populations of white sharks, although the otters are usually an accidental victim, as the sharks prefer meatier prey.

Sometimes sharks and their relatives are also the victims of this same problem. In Canada’s Gulf of St. Lawrence, recent research finds that a unique population of winter skates, which may represent a yet-unidentified new species, is now at risk of localised extinction because the nearby population of grey seals has recovered.

Beyond Conservation

For good reason, most conservation programs focus on stopping the decline and promoting the recovery of imperilled species, and don’t necessarily have the time or resources to think about what happens next.

“The implications of recovery happen after the initial goals are achieved, so in some ways they’re beyond the scope of the conservation program,” Heupel says. “However, if we don’t consider the factors around recovery from end to end, we may overlook competing or complicating factors that arise after conservation goals are achieved and which have the capacity to undermine conservation efforts.”

Fortunately increased public education to help people know what’s happening in their environment, and understand how to safely use the ocean as things change can go a long way toward making conservation truly successful.

“Proactively communicating with the public and stakeholders about the objectives of conservation efforts and hearing their perspective is key to formulating decisions that can suit as many needs and priorities as possible to avoid scenarios that undermine conservation efforts,” says Heupel.

Wigren agrees. “Our role is to increase knowledge and understanding of white sharks through research and to share that information with the public and beach managers,” she says. “Our hope is that informed decisions will be made based on data and facts rather than fear, and that the conservation of the species will remain a priority.”

It’s important to consider that the success of some conservation programs may lead to complications in the future, but that doesn’t mean that conservation isn’t good.

“We’re not claiming that recovering shark populations is a bad thing, despite some [potential] negative impacts,” says John Carlson, a research biologist with NOAA Fisheries and a coauthor on the Environmental Conservation paper. “But we do want the public to recognise that alternative management policies may be needed in the future.”

With more sharks around, we’re going to need to change how we fish, how we spend time at the coast for recreation and how we manage other species — all of which will require public education efforts.

And this gets to the heart of why conservation efforts are so important in the first place. The real question, MacDonald says, comes down to “whether we’re willing to accept some inconvenience and risk in order to live on a wild planet where other species can thrive.”

Top header image: Angelo Taotaotasi, Flickr

Initial attempts to capture the injured male proved unsuccessful. "As a last resort the helicopter team was called in to assist," Manyoni management explain in a blog post. "Yet again, the clever wild dog quickly figured out how to avoid our capture efforts and found refuge from the helicopter underground in an old warthog hole."

With the dog's condition rapidly deteriorating, the situation grew increasingly desperate. The male, now holed up in a burrow in a remote part of the park characterised by steep terrain, was becoming increasingly weaker and, without intervention, would likely not last long. Uncertain if the canine would emerge from the warthog hole again, a risky decision was made to capture the dog where it lay.

Team member Dane Antrobus strapped on a head torch and crawled headfirst into the dark burrow. Below the surface was a complex network of tunnels with multiple exits. Antrobus did his best to ignore the bats that fluttered around his head and managed to locate the alpha male huddled up and unresponsive deep inside one of the tunnels. 

With the dog located, veterinarian Dr Mike Toft was next to brave the burrow armed with a dart gun. After the dog was successfully sedated, it was hauled out of its hidey-hole and carried to a spot where it could be airlifted by helicopter to a more accessible area. 

Damage from a snare had badly severed the dog's leg and the only option was to amputate. The alpha dog was rushed to a nearby animal hospital where its injured leg was surgically removed. "Wild dogs are very resilient, and this male was no different," the team explains. He very quickly adjusted to life with a missing limb (something that wild animals are remarkably quick to do). "This brave wild dog male and team of passionate conservationists never gave up and achieved what seemed impossible."

Top header image: Ian White

Poaching incidents often go undetected in the Kruger Park – a sprawling stretch of bushveld in the north east of South Africa that covers almost 20,000 square kilometres (12,427 square miles) – with carcasses only discovered days or weeks after a poacher has struck. The new tech employs acoustic sensors coupled with software to quickly pinpoint the location of gunshots, allowing park rangers to respond rapidly.

"ShotSpotter changes the game by giving our rangers the exact location of the shot within seconds," Glenn Phillips, Kruger National Park’s managing executive, told IOL. "The resulting speed and accuracy of the response not only increases our chances of making contact and effecting an arrest but over time we hope will send a powerful message to poachers to stay away."

So how does it work? Strategically positioned acoustic sensors pick up the sound of gunfire and almost instantly triangulate the source of the sound based on how long it took to reach each sensor. The info is sent to an HQ where it's analysed by experts to confirm that it is a gunshot before being passed on to the relevant responders (in this case anti-poaching teams). The whole process takes less than 60 seconds.

ShotSpotter typically employ their detection systems in urban environments, so the vast expanse of the African bush posed a few challenges. Acoustic sensors were adapted to account for the terrain and its lack of electricity, a tweak that the company has had to employ in other applications such as freeway deployments with limited electricity supply. 

The technology has already led to multiple apprehensions and, in future, the company hopes to expand coverage of the system and integrate it with airborne thermal surveillance technology to enable rangers to more easily track and intercept poachers.

"I’ve seen the devastation to the rhino population first-hand in South Africa and it’s meaningful that ShotSpotter can make a difference to help these amazing animals survive for future generations,” says Ralph Clark, president and chief executive of ShotSpotter.

Word of the spotty zebra – given the name "Tira" by the guide who first found him – quickly got around and photographers and tourists in the area rushed to catch a glimpse of the unusual animal. “At first glance he looked like a different species altogether," photographer Frank Liu told National Geographic. While Tira may look like he's been crossed with an okapi, he actually owes his unique colouration to a rare genetic condition called pseudomelanism.

Skin and hair colour in mammals comes from a pigment protein called melanin which is produced by specialised cells called melanocytes. In humans, melanin acts as a natural sunscreen, darkening the skin to help protect it from harmful UV rays."There are a variety of mutations that can disturb the process of melanin synthesis, and in all of those disorders, the melanocytes are believed to be normally distributed, but the melanin they make is abnormal,” Greg Barsh, a geneticist at the HudsonAlpha Institute for Biotechnology, explained to National Geographic.

Under their striped coats, zebras have uniformly black skin as a result of melanocytes being evenly distributed across their bodies. According to Barsh, pseudomelanistic zebras like Tira have all of their melanocytes in place, but the melanin produced does not result in stripes, for unexplained reasons.

Zebras with unusual colour patterns are rare, but not unheard of. In 2014, a black zebra was photographed in Botswana's Okavango Delta, while a 'blonde' individual showed up in the Serengeti earlier this year. Unusual colouration is likely to put the animals at greater risk of falling victim to predators, according to University of California biologist Dr Tim Caro. "Some predators choose members of herds that stand out because it may signal that they are not so good at fleeing," he explained to us via email.

This does not necessarily mean that stripes are effective at deterring predators, he adds. In fact, Caro's research indicates that zebra stripes could have evolved to aid in repelling disease-carrying flies. Field experiments show that horse flies are less likely to land on striped surfaces, which puts darker animals like Tira at increased risk of contracting trypanosomiasis, African horse sickness and equine influenza, all of which are spread by biting flies.

Although Tira's sensational polka dots make him stand out in the herd, it's unlikely that his strange colouring will result in rejection from other zebras. Field studies in South Africa found two cases of zebras with atypical colouring that were able to form normal relationships with other herd members. Provided Tira can make it to adulthood, he should be able to fit right in.

In the late 1980s, staff at the Longleat Safari Park in southern England were growing increasingly frustrated with guests who refused to adhere to safety regulations. At the time, the park's drive-though lion enclosure housed 42 of the big cats – enough to comfortably polish off the human contents of a four-door sedan should the opportunity present itself. But despite the obvious dangers, many of the guests who travelled through the lion enclosure were caught hopping out of their cars to take bathroom breaks, fix flat tyres, or even, in one instance, to enjoy a quiet picnic. So the BBC put together a safety demonstration to deter the rule-breakers. The resulting video is both hilarious and horrifying.

Humanoid dummies were carefully positioned in front of an apparently broken-down vehicle. Daniel the Dummy was sporting a navy blue suit while his partner Danielle looked fetching in a pink blouse, knee-high white skirt and heels (in the 80s, folks dressed up for a visit to the safari park it seems). The lions were initially wary of the odd couple until a bold male nipped Daniel's navy jacket and – convinced that the dummy was not about to fight back – snatched poor ol' Dan by the abdomen and trotted off proudly, the dummy's limbs dropping off as he went. Danielle suffered an even more gruesome end: a gentle nudge from a lioness sent her tumbling to the ground where, upon impact, her head popped right off and her torso split in two. Her legs were quickly carried away.

The video, while a touch more hilarious than intended, highlights a long history of irresponsible wildlife viewing by humans. Lions kept in enclosures are notoriously problematic and will often climb on top of vehicles or chew on tyres and bumpers. This, coupled with visitors who refuse to adhere to the rules, can lead to disaster. "Zoos and safari parks are never completely risk-free places and it is unreasonable to expect that they would be,” Sarah Wolfensohn, a professor of animal welfare at the University of Surrey, told the Guardian last year. Regulations in safari parks and game reserves serve to protect both people and animals. When they are ignored the results are often tragic.

In January, a man was mauled to death by lions at a zoo in India after he scaled a 12-foot wall and entered their enclosure, while in 2016, a woman in China was attacked by a tiger after she alighted from her vehicle in an animal park. She survived, but another woman who rushed to her aid was fatally wounded. In South Africa, a country that is home to several controversial lion parks, stories abound of injury and death as a result of irresponsible behaviour by either tourists or park owners.

Even cats of a wilder guild have been recorded investigating unfenced campsites or getting up close with vehicles.

We should heed the warning of the powerfully 80s BBC clip. Don't be a dummy. Give the lions their space.

Black mambas are extremely dangerous reptiles – in fact, many consider the species to be one of the world’s deadliest snakes. They are found in southern and eastern Africa, and are shy, evasive creatures. They won’t seek out human interaction. But if cornered or confronted, they will strike. And their venom is lethal.

Black mambas (don’t let the name fool you – they’re very rarely black, and are more usually a dark brown – it is the inside of the mouth which is black) probably cause the largest number of snake-related deaths in southern Africa. In a recent case, a South African judge died after being bitten by a black mamba while he was travelling in Zambia. But the data for the whole continent is limited, so the precise number isn’t known. This is chiefly because most of these deaths occur in rural parts of Africa with limited health infrastructure and other resources.

Sub-optimal mortuary facilities, inadequate professional manpower, poorly developed protocols and the lack of an efficient and reliable toxicology service means many of these deaths in Africa’s more rural areas are not properly diagnosed. It is most likely that these snakebite victims get buried without a thorough forensic pathological autopsy.

The black mamba is born with two to three drops of venom per fang. It is a front-fanged snake, with fangs up to 6.5 mm in length, located at the front of the upper jaw. An adult of the species has between 12 and 20 drops per fang. It takes just two drops of venom to kill an adult human. This means that even young black mambas are extremely dangerous.

Not much is known about the pathology of trauma of black mamba bites – that is, what the black mamba’s toxin does, physically, inside a victim’s system. We do know that the venom is neurotoxic and cardiotoxic. That means that it has a direct effect on the nerves and the heart.

The more we know, the better. If we know precisely what the toxin does, hospitals and clinics might be better prepared to treat those who’ve been bitten.

A recent case study

Recently my colleagues and I examined the case of a young man who was bitten by a black mamba in South Africa. He arrived at the hospital 20 minutes after being bitten and had already suffered cardiac arrest with accompanying hypoxic brain injury.

This was my third encounter with the victim of a black mamba bite. My first encounter, in 2000, involved a 12-year-old girl who was fatally bitten on the thigh by a black mamba. The second involved a British tourist who was accidentally bitten at a snake park, and who also died.

In this latest case, the co-workers of the young man who died were certain that the snake was a black mamba. This gave us, as forensic pathologists, an excellent opportunity to thoroughly investigate this matter. Oftentimes, the history is scant, with victims unable to properly identify the snake which bit them.

The forensic examination consists of a thorough macroscopic post mortem examination, followed by histological (microscopic) examination and blood tests.

A black mamba’s venom is complex. It interferes with transmission across the motor end-plate, which is where the nerves and muscles connect, so it will result in paralysis. The venom is also cardiotoxic, which means it may have a direct effect on the heart.

How to treat it

So what should you do if you or someone around you is bitten by a black mamba?

The first priority is to transport the victim to an appropriate medical facility as soon as possible. First-aid should focus on maintaining vital functions, such as respiratory support. Keep the victim still and try limit any unnecessary movement. Remove constricting items (for example rings and clothing), especially those close to the bite site.

The first-aid treatment of black mamba bites includes lymphatic retardation with the pressure immobilisation technique – in other words try and wrap a tight crepe bandage or tourniquet close to the bite site.

Medical management comprises continuous monitoring, making sure the airways are open, treating symptoms and the immediate administration of antivenom. The antivenom is injected intravenously because absorption is poor via the muscles. It’s also important not to inject into or around the bite site. In rare instances the victim may be put on extracorporeal membrane oxygenation, which is a way of providing prolonged cardiac and respiratory support to those whose heart and lungs are unable to provide oxygen to the body.

This combination of respiratory support and antivenom may save a person’s life. Over time, the antivenom will ease muscle paralysis and set the victim on the road to recovery.

Ryan Blumenthal, Senior Specialist, University of Pretoria

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

"For more than 50 years, the Wildlife Photographer of the Year competition has attracted the world's very best photographers, naturalists and young photographers,” says Dr Tim Littlewood, Director of Science at the Natural History Museum and member of the judging panel. “But there has never been a more important time for audiences all over the world to experience their work in our inspiring and impactful exhibition. Photography has a unique ability to spark conversation, debate and even action. We hope this year's exhibition will empower people to think differently about our planet and our critical role in its future.”

Now in its 55th year, the Wildlife Photographer of the Year contest is developed and produced by the Natural History Museum, London. This year's competition attracted almost 50,000 entries from professionals and amateurs across 100 countries. The winning images will be announced on 15 October, after which they will be showcased on a UK and international tour.

Here is a selection of some of this year's shortlisted candidates (some images may upset sensitive viewers):

Touching trust 

A curious young grey whale approaches a pair of hands reaching down from a tourist boat. In San Ignacio Lagoon, on the coast of Mexico’s Baja California, baby grey whales and their mothers actively seek contact with people for a head scratch or back rub. The lagoon is one of three that comprise a grey whale nursery and sanctuary – a key winter breeding ground for this surviving breeding population of grey whales, the eastern North Pacific ones. Whaling left the western population near extinction and wiped out the North Atlantic one. Persecution may also have led to the whales’ aggression towards boats and, in San Ignacio, a long‑lasting fear among local fishermen.

But in the 1970s, a young whale approached a fisherman who dared to reach out and touch it. The trust between whales and humans built up, and today many females actively encourage their calves to interact with people. The fishermen have also gained a whale‑watching income in winter – now vital as fish populations and therefore catches decline. In San Ignacio Lagoon, a World Heritage Site, whale‑watching is carefully managed by the community – limited boats, no winter fishing, and interaction only if the whales choose it. Just a few years ago, the community – with international support – also won a lengthy battle to stop a global corporation building a salt plant in the lagoon. For Tom Peschak, a veteran marine photographer and biologist, a whale that demanded petting and got too close for him to focus was a first. In this sanctuary, it is the wild animals that call the shots.

Sleeping like a Weddell

Hugging its flippers tight to its body, the Weddell seal closed its eyes and appeared to fall into a deep sleep. Lying on fast ice (ice attached to land) off Larsen Harbour, South Georgia, it was relatively safe from its predators – killer whales and leopard seals – and so could completely relax and digest. Weddell seals are the world’s most southerly breeding mammals, populating inshore habitats around the Antarctic continent.

Reaching lengths of up to 3.5 metres (11½ feet) – with the females somewhat larger than the males – their large bodies are covered in a thick layer of blubber to keep them warm above and below the icy waters of the Southern Ocean. Feeding mainly on large fish, Weddell seals are impressive divers capable of descending to more than 500 metres (1,640 feet), with high reserves of the oxygen‑binding protein myoglobin in their muscles. This helps them to hunt under water for long periods, sometimes more than an hour. Shooting from an inflatable boat, Ralf tightly framed the sleeping seal, using the white backdrop of ice and soft light from the overcast sky to mimic the effect of a studio portrait. Converting his image to black and white accentuated the tones and textures of the seal’s dense mottled fur.

Big cat and dog spat

In a rare encounter, a lone male cheetah is set upon by a pack of African wild dogs. (Both species have disappeared from much of their former ranges, with fewer than 7,000 left of each, mainly due to habitat loss and fragmentation. Both exist at low densities.) Peter had been following the dogs by vehicle as they hunted in Zimanga Private Game Reserve, KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa.

A warthog had just escaped the pack when the leading dogs came across the big cat. At first, the dogs were wary, but as the rest of the 12-strong pack arrived, their confidence grew, and they began to encircle the cat, chirping with excitement. The elderly cheetah hissed and lunged back at the mob, his left ear tattered, the right one pinned back in the ruckus. As dust flew in the morning light, Peter kept his focus on the cat’s face. In a few minutes the spat was over as the cheetah fled.

The hair-net cocoon

Standing side-on to the wall of the WC, his face and camera pressed against it, Minghui focused on the remarkable cocoon of a Cyna moth pupa. A more typical location would be a tree trunk or rock, as in the rainforest of Xishuangbanna, southwest China, where he had just been filming. But this caterpillar had chosen a wall. It had used its long, hair-like setae to weave the delicate cocoon cage, held with silk and just 4 centimetres (11/2 inches) long, inside which it would pupate.

The cage must provide protection against some predators but probably not against the wasps that parasitise it. Once in its cage, the caterpillar spits out silk, spinning almost invisible threads to suspend itself, head first from the cage while it turns into a pupa. The cage has an aperture at either end, through which the caterpillar expels its outer layer after its final moult and then – once it has reorganised its body – emerges from the top as a beautiful white moth, decorated in red and black.

The freshwater forest

Slender stems of Eurasian watermilfoil, bearing whorls of soft, feathery leaves, reach for the sky from the bed of Lake Neuchâtel, Switzerland. Michel has photographed freshwater regions worldwide, but this was the first time he had dived in the lake nearest to his home. He was swimming near the surface – absorbed with the beauty of the plants and their small reddish flowers – when he spotted a huge pike disappearing into the mass of vegetation below. Very slowly, he sank down for a closer look. When he reached the bottom, he found himself immersed in an ‘underwater jungle with an endless view’.

Watermilfoil is native to Europe, Asia and North Africa but has spread worldwide. It can grow from fragments and so is easily transported, rapidly colonizing ponds, lakes and slow-moving water, with dense growth that can shade out native species. When Michel inspected the stems, extending up several metres, he noticed that some supported thick clusters of zebra mussels. Originating in Russia and Ukraine, these small molluscs, with characteristic banding patterns, are prolific breeders that are spread by boats and have invaded most of western Europe and North America. Their filter‑feeding significantly reduces plankton densities, increasing water clarity and disrupting ecosystems. Carefully manoeuvring his bulky diving gear in the tangle of vegetation, Michel composed his picture with a wide angle to convey the feeling of gazing up from a forest floor, among throngs of towering trees.

Beach waste

From a distance, the beach scene at Alabama’s Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge looked appealing: blue sky, soft sand and a Kemp’s ridley sea turtle. But as Matthew and the strandings patrol team got closer they could see the fatal noose around the turtle’s neck attached to the washed-up beach chair. The Kemp’s ridley is not only one of the smallest sea turtles – just 65 centimetres (2 feet) long – it is also the most endangered. Over the past 50 years, human activities – from egg and meat consumption to incidental capture in fishing nets – have greatly reduced its numbers. Today, despite protection of its limited nesting sites along the western coast of the Gulf of Mexico and a requirement for trawlers to use turtle-excluders, it is still under threat. But as Matthew witnesses on his daily nesting-patrol, another danger is injury or drowning resulting from the huge amount of discarded fishing gear and rubbish that ends up in the ocean. 

The wall of shame

Pinned to a white wall are the skins of rattlesnakes. Surrounding them are signed bloody handprints – triumphant marks of those who have skinned snakes at the annual rattlesnake round-up in Sweetwater, Texas. Each year tens of thousands of rattlesnakes are caught for this four‑day festival. In spring, wranglers use gasoline to flush the snakes out of their winter dens – a practice banned in many US states. They are kept in poor conditions before being brought to the festival and tossed into snake pits. They are then decapitated as entertainment for festival-goers, who pay to skin them. Proponents of the roundups claim they are needed to control the populations of venomous snakes to ensure the safety of people, pets and livestock. But opponents regard round-ups as an ecologically damaging, unsustainable and inhumane practice. What Jo-Anne found most unsettling about this image was ‘that so many of the bloodied handprints belonged to children’.

The climbing dead

On a night-time fieldtrip in the Peruvian Amazon rainforest, Frank spotted this bizarre-looking weevil clinging to a fern stem. Its glazed eyes showed it was dead, and the three antennae-like projections growing out of its thorax were the ripe fruiting bodies of a ‘zombie fungus’. Spreading inside the weevil while it was alive, the parasitic fungus had taken control of its muscles and compelled it to climb. When it was at a suitable height – for the fungus – the weevil held fast to the stem. Fuelled by the weevil’s insides, the fungus then started to grow fruiting bodies topped by capsules that would release a multitude of tiny spores to infect new prey. Similar ‘zombie fungi’ are known to parasitise other insects. Shooting the weevil head on, to show its characteristic elongated snout, Frank isolated the fungus against a soft background to emphasise the capsules. By the next day, the spores had been released and the fungus had withered, its mission accomplished.

Jelly baby

A juvenile jackfish peers out from inside a small jellyfish off Tahiti in French Polynesia. With nowhere to hide in the open ocean, it has adopted the jelly as an overnight travelling shelter, slipping under the umbrella and possibly immune to the stinging tentacles, which deter potential predators. In hundreds of night dives, says Fabien, ‘I’ve never seen one without the other.’ It is not clear if a jelly derives any benefit or why the relationship breaks down when water acidifies. Diving in deep open water in darkness – here at 20 metres (65 feet) down – is Fabien’s speciality. Zooplankton migrate up from the deep under cover of darkness to feed on surface-dwelling phytoplankton (which need sunlight), and other predators stream after them. Drifting with the jelly and its rider, Fabien combined all the elements of his composition at exactly the right moment.

If penguins could fly

A gentoo penguin – the fastest underwater swimmer of all penguins – flees for its life as a leopard seal bursts out of the water. Eduardo was expecting it. He had spotted the penguin, resting on a fragment of broken ice. But he had also seen the leopard seal patrolling off the Antarctic Peninsula coast, close to the gentoo’s colony on Cuverville Island. As Eduardo’s inflatable headed towards the penguin, the seal passed directly beneath the boat. Moments later, it surged out of the water, mouth open.

The penguin made it off the ice, but the seal now seemed to turn the hunt into a game. Leopard seals are formidable predators. Females can be 3.5 metres (11½ feet) long and weigh more than 500 kilograms (1,100 pounds), males slightly less. Their slender bodies are built for speed, with wide jaws bearing long canines and sharply pointed molars. They hunt almost anything, from fish to the pups of other seal species. And they also play with their prey, as in this instance, with the leopard seal pursuing the penguin for more than 15 minutes before finally catching and eating it.

Cool drink by Diana Rebman

On a bitterly cold morning on the Japanese island of Hokkaido, Diana came across a delightful scene. A flock of long-tailed tits and marsh tits were gathered around a long icicle hanging from a branch, taking turns to nibble the tip. Here, a Hokkaido long-tailed tit hovers for a split second to take its turn to nip off a beakful. If the sun came out and a drop of water formed, the tit next ‘in line’ would sip rather than nip. The rotation of activity was so fast-moving that it almost seemed choreographed. Two days later, Diana returned and found that, with temperatures still at -20°C (-4°F), the icicle remained and tits were still drinking from it. But when the sun came out and the ice began to melt, one long‑tailed tit chose to cling to the icicle instead of hovering. That instantly brought the performance to an end, as the icicle cracked and then crashed to the ground.

Circle of life

In the clear water of the Red Sea, a shoal of bigeye trevally circle 25 metres (80 feet) down at the edge of the reef. For the past 20 years Alex has travelled here, to Ras Mohammad – a national park at the tip of Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula – to photograph the summer-spawning aggregations of reef fish. "The big lure is that I always see something new," he says. This time, it was the high numbers of bigeye trevally. Their circling behaviour is a dating exercise prior to pairing up, though it also deters predators. Spawning gatherings like this are easily fished out – but not here, as the national park is a no-fishing marine reserve. Using a lens system with a 130‑degree angle of view, Alex captured the shape of the shoal against the deep blue water below, the iridescent angled fish reflecting the light from the sun and his strobes.

Last gasp

A newborn hippo, just days old, was keeping close to its mother in the shallows of Lake Kariba, Zimbabwe, when a large bull suddenly made a beeline for them. He chased the mother, then seized the calf in his huge gape, clearly intent on killing it. After trying to drown it, he tried to crush it to death. All the while, the distraught mother looked on. Adrian’s fast reaction and fast exposure captured the shocking drama. Infanticide among hippos is rare but may result from the stress caused through overcrowding when their day-resting pools dry out. A male may also increase his reproductive chances by killing young that are not his, triggering females to go into oestrus, ready to mate with him. Male hippos are also aggressively territorial, and brutal fights are not uncommon. If they feel threatened by an accidental encounter, hippos will also attack and kill humans.

Canopy hangout

When Carlos’s family planned a trip to Panama’s Soberanía National Park, sloths were high on their must-see agenda. They were not disappointed. For several days, from the observation deck of the park’s canopy tower, Carlos could photograph not only birds but also this brown-throated three-toed sloth – the orange fur and the dark stripe on its back marking it as an adult male. It hung out in a cecropia tree, resting but occasionally moving, slowly, along a branch to reach new leaves. On this morning, with the forest cloaked in fog and the sloth on the move, Carlos decided on a new composition. Climbing down, he shot from a lower level but at an angle that would still show the sloth’s key features – its three hooked claws clamped to the branch, its characteristic mask-like eye-stripe and its long, coarse fur. But by deliberately placing it in one part of the frame, he also captured the atmosphere of the forest – ‘the sloth in its environment’.

Lucky break

An ever-adaptable raccoon pokes her bandit-masked face out of a 1970s Ford Pinto on a deserted farm in Saskatchewan, Canada. In the back seat, her five playful kits trill with excitement. It was a sentiment shared by Jason, waiting silently in a nearby hide, who had been hoping for this chance every summer for several years. The only access into the car was through the small hole in the cracked safety glass of the windscreen. The gap was blunt‑edged but too narrow a fit for a coyote (the primary predator of raccoons in the area), making this an ideal place for a mother raccoon to raise a family. On this evening, she paused at the exit to check the surroundings just long enough for Jason to make his long twilight exposure. She then squeezed out to spend the night looking for food – anything from fruit, nuts and eggs to invertebrates and small vertebrates.

The undulating jelly was spotted more than 2,500 feet (762 metres) below the central Pacific Ocean by researchers working for the Ocean Exploration Trust. The team initially compared the animal to a ghost character from the classic 80s arcade game Pacman, but the jelly soon proved that it was far more versatile than that.

The deep-sea creature quickly began morphing into a formless blob revealing a small, red isopod hitchhiking beneath its sheet-like folds. The isopod, a type of segmented crustacean related to deep-sea pillbugs, is probably not being preyed on, but "it is likely that this small crustacean consumes pieces of jelly while remaining hidden from predators," the Ocean Exploration Trust explains in a blog post, adding that the relationship between the two is not yet fully understood.

The jellyfish belongs to the genus Deepstaria and is a relative of the even stranger D. enigmatica, a species only seen a handful of times. Unlike other jellyfish, these ghostly creatures do not have stinging tentacles, so scientists are not entirely sure how Deepstaria eat. It's thought that they are filter feeders, trapping prey inside their expansive bag-like bell. A geometric mesh pattern serves as a network of canals along which food can travel to the stomach at the top of the bell. "As the jelly can reach a large size when inflated, these channels help distribute nutrients across the entire expanse," the team explain online.

The Nautilus research vessel is currently exploring the Pacific Remote Islands Marine National Monument, an expansive marine protected area spanning 490,343 square miles (1,269,979 square kilometres) in the central Pacific Ocean. The team are collecting deepwater baseline information to support science and management decisions in the area. For more updates from the almost-always fascinating ocean depths, visit the Nautilus website.

Tourist Krishna Tummalapalli was on safari with his family in South Africa’s Kruger National Park earlier this year where he was able to film an astonishing interaction between a thirsty elephant and a bold rhino that (perhaps foolishly) tried to defend its position at a drinking hole.

Tummalapalli was watching a mother rhino and her calf quenching their thirst when a pair of elephants emerged on the horizon. ”We were curious about what was about to happen but we never expected them to get into a fight,” he explained to Latest Sightings.

The rhino – seemingly startled by the sudden appearance of an elephant directly behind it – turned to face the interloper before charging towards it. For a brief moment, the two grey giants faced off staring each other down in a cloud of dust until the rhino realised it was outmatched and turned tail. As it did so the elephant lunged forward pushing the rhino with its trunk and tusks, pushing its much-smaller rival into the muddy shallows where it almost trampled its own calf.

Tummalapalli and his family were shaken up by the unexpected scuffle, but “felt a bit more at ease once the rhinos started running away with seemingly no injur[ies].”

Satisfied that the rhinos were no longer a problem, the elephant turned its attention on the human spectators. “I don’t know whether it would have attacked us, but we put some more distance between the safari vehicle and the aggressive elephant before we could find out,” explains Tummalapalli.

Elephants are typically gentle creatures, however, they can become aggressive if defending young or asserting their dominance. Males can be particularly belligerent when they are in musth – a heightened hormonal state characterised by elevated levels of testosterone and more agitated behaviour.

Caitlin O’Connell, author of Elephant Don: The Politics of a Pachyderm Posse, explained to National Geographic back in 2015 that elephants are fussy about their drinking water and may fight for access to the prime spot at a watering hole. Once an individual has claimed dominance over a resource such as drinking water, it is assumed that it will have dominance over the rest of the herd.

O’Connell describes how she watched a dominant male in Namibia’s Etosha National Park claim control over a spring that fed a watering hole, allowing the big bull access to the best-quality water. ”[T]hat spot is reserved for the Don,” she said in an interview. “When he comes in, it’s like the parting of the waters. The other males step away so that he can have that spot without contest.” If other herd members wanted to drink, they would “request permission” from the Don by intertwining trunks with him. Lower-ranking herd members wouldn’t even try and simply assumed their position at the other end of the pan.

Moral of the story: Challenge a thirsty elephant at your own risk.

Top header image: Brittany H., Flickr

The footage was uploaded to Facebook last month by Sarah Vasser-Alford where it quickly went viral generating over a million views to date. According to reports, the creature was caught accidentally while Vasser-Alford and a group of her family and friends were fishing for halibut off the coast of Prince of Wales Island in Alaska. It was released back into the ocean shortly after the video was filmed. Many online commenters were more than a little unsettled by the animal's twisting arms, calling the creature an alien and describing it as "something out of Stranger Things".

So what the heck is it? We checked in with starfish-expert Dr Christopher Mah to help identify the gnarly creature. "This is an animal well-known to marine biologists. [It's] called a basket star, which is a type of brittle star or Ophiuroid," Mah explained to us via email. Distantly related to sea stars, these odd-looking animals are found in deep-sea, cold-water habitats across the world. The orange species that recently set the internet alight is more than likely Gorgonocephalus eucnemis (although telling sea basket species apart from one another can be a tricky task).                                           

Basket stars are filter feeders. Their twirly appendages are covered with spines and hooks which are useful for latching onto prey such as krill or small crustaceans (that's right, this twisty sea tree is actually a predator!). Basket stars usually position themselves on perches like soft coral, sponges, rocks or sometimes on the ocean floor where they'll extend their coiled arms to form a kind of feeding basket to trap their prey, Mah explains on The Echinoblog. Once they've snagged something, it will be worked down towards the mouth, a slightly terrifying star-shaped opening that Mah likens to the Sarlacc Pit from Return of the Jedi.

Here's a basket star in action:

Top header image: Alexander Vasenin/Flickr

Earlier this year, Gerritt Meyer was travelling through South Africa's Kruger National Park when he happened upon a leopard-porcupine showdown in the middle of a stretch of tarmac. The cat can be seen trailing a Cape porcupine (Hystrix africaeaustralis), trying in vain to get at the rodent's soft belly. 

Porcupines are equipped with a mass of quills that extend across much of their backs. Contrary to popular belief, they cannot shoot their quills like arrows. Rather, when threatened, they will see off predators by shaking their hollow tail spikes to create an intimidating rattling sound. If the shaking doesn't do the trick, they'll charge backwards at pace, skewering anything that gets in the way.

The defence strategy seemed to work for this porcupine, although we are not sure what happened after the camera stopped rolling. Leopards can be relentlessly persistent and the porcupine's tactics are not full-proof. In the majority of recorded porcupine-vs-leopard altercations, it's the felines that come out on top. Leopards that have mastered the art of porcupine hunting are able to get underneath the sharp spines or secure the animal's head. This cat definitely had the right idea, but it's unclear if it pulled off a successful hunt.

Nature. Some see it as beautiful and some as red “in tooth and claw”. Of course nature is dynamic, it changes between both the beautiful and the dangerous as in Blake’s famous words:

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

With the support of the South Australian Museum, this year’s Australian Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year competition attracted hundreds of photographers who have attempted to frame the symmetry of nature’s danger and the beauty - both in landscape and living things.

The finalists no doubt have mastered the photographers’ tools of trade - metering and focus; composition and colour; balance and visual weight. Experts have critiqued the work, announced winners, and awarded their grand prize. But does this exhibition capture the multiple dimensions of nature? Well, yes.

Nature is based on ecology and ecology is about dynamics and flows. Energy and material cycle through a balanced natural system where everything is used and nothing is lost. Sometimes, though, the balance is disrupted and cycles may be broken or forced to reform in novel ways.

The physical dimensions (length, breadth, depth) and the dangerous beauty inherent in a creature like an echidna leap out in a photograph titled “Under the Spikes” by Isaac Wilson. It captures both the fearsome spikes of an echidna and the beauty of shape and form within.

Likewise, in the “Clash of the Crabs”, the photographer Samuel Horton has captured the spiky drama of the daily dance of soldier crabs as they fight for their future.

Others see the ecology at wildly different scales, which look alien yet beautiful to our eyes. “New Life in a Far-off World” by Wade Hughes shows what appears, at first, to be destruction by an other-worldly volcano. It turns out to be a sponge’s way of spreading its desire for life as spores across the seas.

The image “Surge” by Reed Plummer returns to human scale, but shows us the awesome, daily power of nature. A breaking wave drops tons of water even as it pulls tons of sand from the sea bed.

“Barron Falls” by Neil Pritchard almost lets you hear the tumultuous violence of flood waters heading to the coast. Yet within this drama, the picture draws your eye to a single, small island of green that has found its space within the natural cycle of flooding noise and peace.

Tim Wrate’s “Above” at first looks like an Aboriginal painting. But, as you draw nearer, the image resolves into a complex maze of mangroves and salt in emerald waterways. You can feel the dynamics of the system and the interplay between life and water.

The jigsaw of cracked clay in “The Watering Hole” by Melissa Williams-Brown again draws the viewer into pattern. But as you follow the cracks out, a single kangaroo carcass reminds us of the cycles of water, with extreme droughts and floods. We disrupt or misinterpret this cycle at everyone’s peril.

In nature, death can be beautiful. In “The Ghost of the Forest” (Marcia Riederer) an elusive mushroom, feeding on dead material, illuminates the green with its bioluminescence. Without such decomposers feeding on dead things, the cycling of essential materials would cease - no beauty, no death and no life.

Some people hike for days to experience the beauty of these natural bio-lights, others avoid them for fear that the lights are the souls of the departed. In ecological terms, the luminescence attracts insects, which help disperse the mushroom spore and thus the future of this life form.

Other photographers have focused their lenses on points where the ecological cycles are disrupted. The disruption might be relatively small, like the Flying Fox new parent who almost drowns her own child while getting a drink in “Just Hanging On” (Neil Edwards).

Did you know Flying Foxes drink by dipping into water and then licking their wet fur? “Foxes on the Wing” by Paul Huntley catches them doing it just right.

Larger disruptions

In Richard Smith’s “In the Can”, tiny fish, peering out of discarded packaging hint at much larger disruptions caused by human efficiency in taking raw materials. Is there a deliberate irony here that humans efficiently take raw resources but neglect to recycle those that now litter the otherwise barren ocean floor?

Other tiny eyes peer from within a roof cavity in “A Possum’s Lookout” (Gary Meredith). These small mammals may be taking advantage of a new preferred habitat created by humans, or they may have been forced out of their usual habitats by other animals or disruptions.

Meanwhile, a Satin Bowerbird proudly surrounded by beautiful blue bottle tops adds a new symmetry in “Trash or Treasure” by Matt Wright.

In this show, each photographer has brought a different perspective on nature. Each of these can enhance your worldview - allowing you to see the dynamics and resilience; the power and quiet; the destruction and rebirth inherent in it.

Next time you step out of your front door and see a tree in the street, really look at it.

See in it the young seedling of the past, its efforts to survive to the present, and the old senescent trunk full of decomposers of the future.

See in it the life of other organisms and how they use even the dead and ugly. See in it the beauty and power of nature “burning bright”.

The Australian Geographic Nature Photographer of the Year competition is produced by the South Australian Museum. It can be seen at the Powerhouse Museum in Sydney in partnership with the Australian Museum until 20 October and at the South Australian Museum until 10 November.

Cris Brack, Associate professor, Australian National University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Earlier this month, safari guide Steve Faulconbridge was hosting a game drive in South Africa's Greater Kruger National Park for streaming service SafariLive when he spotted fresh lion tracks scattered across a gravel road. The big cats often use road networks to navigate unhindered through their territories, so guides will regularly check for signs of lion activity in the soft sand. Eager to give his online viewers a candid look at lion life, Faulconbridge followed the spoor, stopping when he reached a junction in the road to assess which direction the cats had chosen.

It was at one of these crossroads where the knowledgeable guide hopped out of the vehicle and began explaining to the camera the finer points of lion tracking. As he strolled further from the safety of the game-viewer, head bowed to examine the spoor, he overlooked a handful of tawny heads peeping out of the tall grass beside the road. "Oh my word," Faulconbridge managed when he finally spotted the cats, now just metres in front of him. Both guide and cats were startled by the encounter and, thankfully, the lions fled the scene.

Faulconbridge kept his cool. He slowly retreated, walking backwards so that he could keep a watchful eye on the lions (ProTip: if you stumble across big cats on foot, don't run). He returned to the vehicle wearing a wry smile, fully aware that SafariLive online viewers probably spotted the lions long before he did.

Our camera crews have also had their fair share of close encounters with these big cats. Here, Graham Springer explains what to do when a lioness sniffs your pants ... 

Photographs by Karine Aigner | Story by Stephanie Stone

On an already-hot summer morning in south Texas, a mother bobcat (Lynx rufus) emerges from her den and performs a quick safety check. Sensing no signs of danger, she calls her three kittens to join her on the deck above their lair, where a water bowl awaits. Aside from the obvious advantage of a reliable source of drinking water, a well-trafficked deck may seem like a strange place for a shy animal like a bobcat to raise her young – especially in rural Texas, where bobcats are considered by many to be varmints and it’s legal to hunt and trap the animals on private land year-round. But low-slung decks and porches offer excellent protection from both the heat of the sun and the threat of larger predators, and the seasoned mother has learned that the humans who frequent this particular deck pose no threat to her family.

Bobcats are the most widely distributed and abundant wild cats in North America, with a range that extends from Canada to Mexico and an estimated population of between 2 and 3.5 million individuals in the United States alone. Unlike their larger relatives, which rely on more specialized habitat and prey, these 4-to 18-kilogram (9-to 40-pound) cats can utilize a wide variety of landscapes, and their diets are both diverse and adaptable. Rabbits, hares, and rodents make up the bulk of their prey, but bobcats are also powerful enough to take down young deer and other ungulates and nimble enough to capture much smaller prey, including insects. Because of both their abundance and their hunting prowess, the cats play an important role in their ecosystems, controlling the populations of a number of species that might otherwise go unchecked, including disease-carrying rodents.

While their remarkable adaptability has made bobcats more resilient than other feline species in the face of human encroachment, they aren’t immune to such threats. Habitat loss and fragmentation have taken a toll in recent decades, creating isolated populations that are less genetically diverse and more prone to inbreeding. But hunting and trapping pose the most immediate – and growing – threat. Trophy hunting for bobcats is currently legal in 40 states, including Texas, where roundup events like the West Texas Big Bobcat Contest offer large cash prizes for killing the most and the biggest bobcats in a 23-hour period. Additionally, the cats’ beautifully spotted coats have made them a target of the international fur trade. Since the 1970s, when CITES (the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora) protections made the commercial trade of larger cat pelts illegal, bobcat pelts have become highly prized. And as fur coats have grown in popularity among the burgeoning middle classes in Russia and China, demand for bobcat fur has skyrocketed. Since 2000, the average price for a bobcat pelt has grown from $85 to a high of $589, and the number of pelts exported from the United States has quadrupled, climbing to a high of 65,000 per year.

When conservation photographer Karine Aigner first started photographing bobcats on a friend’s ranch in south Texas in 2017, she knew most of the community’s human residents were more likely to see the cats as a nuisance – or a target – than as a species to be admired and protected. In the beginning, her only goal was to see if the cats might allow her into their world. But the more time she spent watching a fiercely protective mother raise her always-curious-and-sometimes-precocious kittens, the more she began to hope that showcasing the lives of these animals might change the way they are perceived and treated. “When you’re given the opportunity to observe wild animals on a more intimate level, you end up seeing that their lives are not so different from ours,” says Aigner. “They’re mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers. They teach lessons, and they mourn losses. I would love for people to see into the lives of these animals—and to realize that we’re closer to these creatures than we think.”

“It was like a bomb went off in front of my eyes,” Charrier told Global Wildlife Conservation. “The grasses were dry and brown and we didn’t even find the carcasses of frogs, which means that it had been dry for a very, very long time … I have been working in conservation for the last 10 years with frogs and I never expected to see something like this. Never. Never.”

Charrier returned to the stream three days later with a small team on a mission to figure out what happened to the frogs and their watery abode. They had no expectations of finding live amphibians, but just 100 metres from where Charrier and his colleagues had turned back a few days before, they found a muddy pool: the last waning stretch of hope for the species. A dozen or so malnourished Loa water frogs were clinging to life in the murky water.

Their discovery triggered a rapid rescue mission. The National Zoo of Chile offered to house and nurse the frogs while Amphibian Survival Alliance and Amphibian Ark provided financial support. A short while later, Charrier and Lobos returned to the the field along with Claudio Soto Azat, co-chair of the IUCN SSC Amphibian Specialist Group, in search of survivors. They brought back 14 frogs which were weighed, sexed and examined for lesions before being placed in pairs and housed in tanks with visual barriers to reduce stress.

“I have been deeply impressed by the skill and resolve of the team in Chile acting to prevent the extinction of this species,” said Helen Meredith, executive director of the Amphibian Survival Alliance, in a press release. “So many critically endangered amphibian species risk slipping away unnoticed because they do not have an active group of people committed to their survival. This gives me great hope for the Loa water frogs – they face an uncertain future but have a group of champions committed to their survival.”

The task of saving the species is far from over, however. While the National Zoo of Chile has housed and bred a number of frog species over the years, this is the first time they have dealt with Loa water frogs. “I have experience with many species of amphibians, but this is the most difficult case I’ve ever had,” Osvaldo Cabeza, supervisor of herpetology at the National Zoo of Chile told Global Wildlife Conservation. “But every day that passes, I feel that this species is telling us its secrets and how we can contribute to their wellbeing. Seeing the frogs’ slow recovery is really exciting – it fills my heart to see how they’re gaining weight and that their health is improving.”

Nursing the frogs back to health is only one step in the process. Water is a scarce resource in the desert town of Calama, but that hasn’t stopped mining operations, farmers and real estate developers from exploiting it. Conservationists are calling on the Chilean government to prohibit illegal water extraction and to restore the frogs’ habitat and declare it a formally protected sanctuary.

“Although this is a critically important rescue, it is the first part in a multi-pronged process,” explains Ariadne Angulo, co-chair of the IUCN SSC Amphibian Specialist Group. “To achieve our shared vision of ‘amphibians thriving in nature,’ there must be nature to return amphibians to, and the Loa water frog is no exception.”

The Andean highlands in South America are home to at least 63 species of water frogs in the Telmatobius genus. Many, like the recently rescued amphibians, live in just one place and, as such, require that their habitat be carefully regulated and protected. Loa water frogs are very sensitive to changes in their environment – zoo staff tasked with looking after the recent survivors can attest to the trickiness of maintaining the water at the optimal pH level to keep the frogs happy and healthy. Habitat destruction, pollution and invasive species can be deadly to the hyper sensitive frogs.

“When people tell me that I’m a hero because I save frogs, I tell them ‘no, the frogs are the heroes for holding on,’” Charrier says. “My actions are my message to the world: these species are dying and we can and we must do something about it.”

Header image: The Ministry of Housing and Urbanism of Chile

Filmed in South Africa's Hluhluwe-iMfolozi Park, the cunning heron can be seen carefully placing an insect – either a beetle or a grasshopper – on the surface of the water. The moment a fish moves in to investigate the potential meal, the striated heron (Butorides striata) plunges its long bill into the water and spears the unsuspecting prey. 

Use of bait and lures by green-backed herons is fairly well-recorded in the scientific literature. These birds have been documented employing this crafty technique in Africa, the US, Cuba, Japan and Peru. In some cases, herons make use of lures such as feathers, fruit or flowers, while others opt for bait, like insects or even bread to attract small fish to the surface.

Header image: Gerifalte Del Sabana

Professional guide Kerry Balaam was taking guests on a game drive in the southern section of the reserve earlier this month when she came across a pride of lions. The cats were on the move so Balaam followed unaware that a leopard was lurking nearby. Suddenly two of the lions bolted towards a bush, scaring a leopard from its hiding spot and sending it running to some rocks close by. "Within moments, the whole pride was surrounding the leopard!" she told Latest Sightings.

Although it's a powerful predator, the leopard’s solitary habits and relatively small size put it at risk when facing off against carnivorous rivals. The solitary cats are outranked by most of Africa's big predators, and they lose as many as a fifth of their meals to other carnivores like wild dogs and hyenas whose strength in numbers allow them to easily chase the cats off their kills. Lions are an even bigger menace.

A study conducted recently in the Greater Kruger Park found that lions account for over 20% of leopard mortalities. Despite this, leopards do not actively avoid their bigger rivals and the cats often inhabit the same territories. For the most part, the two species coexist peacefully: leopards usually target small- to medium-sized prey, while lions opt for more sizeable quarry like adult buffaloes. When they do clash, however, it's the larger cats that almost always come out on top.

If a leopard finds itself cornered by a pride of lions, its best chance at survival is to act ultra submissive. The roly-poly routine that you can see in the video is a cat's way of saying "I know I am vanquished but I appeal to your sense of compassion," explains Dr. Paul Funston, Lion Program Senior Director and Southern Africa Regional Director for Panthera, the global wild cat conservation organisation. Funston points out that the leopard is a fully grown male, so if the cats did come to blows it's possible that there would be injuries on both sides. "I would bet if this leopard was young or perhaps even a female things might have turned out differently," he adds.

The leopard repeatedly rolled over,and cautiously waited for an opportunity to flee. "He obviously doesn't want to try running in front of them because that would instigate a reaction out of the pride," says Kris Everatt, Mozambique Lion Project Manager for Panthera. Even when the opportunity seems to present itself, the leopard continued to show submission. "He may have thought that a lion was still standing over him even after the female moved off and then jumped up and flipped over a second time because he got a fright."

Eventually, the cat spots a gap and takes it. "The lions gave a bit of a chase after the leopard, but then carried on sleeping on the rocks for the rest of the day, as lions do!" Balaam quips. 

Altercations like this likely happen more often than we know, but luckily for this leopard, the lions weren't up for a fight.

Top header image: Mihael Hercog/Flickr

Some people don’t like sharing their food – we all have a friend who gets cranky when you steal a chip from their plate. For wild animals, this makes sense, because any food shared is energy lost that could otherwise have been used to pursue more food.

So it was a big surprise to discover wild leopard seals feeding alongside one another while eating king penguins at South Georgia, a remote island in the southern Atlantic Ocean. On top of this, they may have even been cooperating with each other to eat these enormous seabirds.

We report this fascinating observation in a new study published today [5 August 2019] in the journal Polar Biology.

Can’t we just all get along?

Leopard seals have a ferocious reputation as one of the top predators in the Antarctic ecosystem. They are infamously the “principal enemy of the penguin”, as immortalised in the film Happy Feet.

But when they eat penguins, leopard seals are normally highly territorial, scaring off rivals by lunging at them with a fearsome set of teeth. Animal-mounted cameras have even revealed that leopard seals ambush each other to steal captured prey.

But that’s not what was seen when the film crew working on the Netflix documentary series Our Planet visited South Georgia. Instead, they were astonished to find wild leopard seals floating alongside one another dining together on a king penguin carcass, taking it in turns to tear off pieces of food.

Too costly to fight

Given how aggressive leopard seals normally are around food, why were these seals behaving so out of character?

Consider this: if you were at an all-you-can-eat buffet and a stranger sat at your table and began eating your food, would you chase them away or let them share with you, knowing you could easily get more afterwards?

When food is very abundant, it may well be cheaper to share than to fight. Penguin colonies offer a near-constant supply of potential prey, attracting scores of predators. In this case, up to 36 leopard seals were seen near the colony at the same time.

So if a seal paused feeding to scare or fight off a rival, there is a good chance a third seal would sneak in and steal the food. In this situation it makes more sense to focus on eating as much as possible, as fast as possible – tolerating some food theft if necessary so as to avoid wasting energy on fighting that would risk losing the prey altogether.

The seals didn’t get along perfectly all the time. We saw some aggression, but perhaps this is to be expected if they are just tolerating each other out of necessity.

Do leopard seals cooperate to eat large prey?

Another explanation for these unexpected observations is that leopard seals might be cooperating to make it easier to consume such large prey.

Unlike northern seals, leopard seals don’t have clawed paws to help them hold prey. Instead, they have paddle-like flippers with tiny claws, forcing them to vigorously thrash the prey from side to side in their teeth to tear it into pieces small enough to swallow. This energy-intensive eating style is even harder when the prey is large – like adult king penguins.

Alternatively, if two animals hold the prey between them, one can act as an anchor while the other tears off a chunk of meat. This saves a lot of energy that would otherwise be wasted shaking the prey around.

This type of cooperative food processing is actually quite common among aquatic top predators, such as killer whales and crocodiles, that can’t easily hold onto food.

The unusual case of the sharing seal

This last possibility made us rethink the interpretation of a famous encounter between a wild leopard seal and National Geographic photographer Paul Nicklen. On entering the water, Nicklen was repeatedly approached by a seal that appeared to be trying to feed him a penguin in an act of unexpected altruism. But perhaps this was not a free gift, but an offer to cooperate.

The latest discovery is a great example of how new technology can help researchers make close-hand observations of wild animals. By using a camera drone, the film-makers could fly above the animals without disturbing them, allowing them to observe behaviours that have so far gone unnoticed.

The remoteness of Antarctic ecosystems can make it hard to connect with the wildlife there, but these advances in technology are helping to provide new windows into this icy world.

David Hocking, Postdoctoral fellow, Monash University; Alistair Evans, Associate Professor, Monash University, and James Robbins, Visiting researcher, Plymouth University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.