【推荐1】In our human-centric view, the ability to shoot ink or change colors may seem odd, but you know what’s really odd? Menopause (更年期). You can count species other than humans known to experience and outlive menopause on one hand. Only Oracs (虎鲸) and some whale populations have females that live long past their reproductive years to become grandmothers. But a new, landmark study confirms that at least one population of chimpanzees can now be added to the list.

The discovery comes as the result of 21 years’ worth of observing the Ngogo community of wild chimpanzees in Kibale National Park, Uganda. Studying urine from 66 Ngogo females, aged 14 to 67, showed that their hormone levels changed after approaching 50, confirming they were in menopause. Interestingly, 50 is also the age when many people begin to experience menopause. “It’s really cool to finally have that piece of the puzzle come into place,” says Catherine Hobaiter, a primatologist who was not part of the new study.

But Catherine points out that the Ngogo community lives in a chimp paradise: the resource-rich, well-protected Kibale National Park that also lacks leopards, their main predator. And because the Noggo community is found in the heart of the park, its only neighbors are other chimps — not humans who can expose chimpanzees to viruses that have devastated other communities. “The Ngogo population may be an outlier (局外人) when it comes to the rest of the species,” she cautions.

And there is a question concerning “the grandmother effect”, according to which a grandmother has a decidedly beneficial effect on her children and grandchildren. Chimpanzees do not form long-term pair-bonds and females leave in search of new communities when they reach maturity, which means grandmother chimpanzees likely don’t know who their grandchildren are in the same way humans or even orcas do. What they do after the menopause remains a question of interest. “And that’s all future work to be done.” said Catherine.

【推荐2】Polar bear mothers invest a huge amount into their cubs (幼兽), isolating themselves in dens (兽穴) dug with great effort into piles of snow to provide care through the unforgiving conditions of Arctic winter. It’s little wonder that the bears are hesitant to leave when disturbed, even when oil drilling equipment is in operation nearby.

“We found that bears wouldn’t abandon their dens even with vehicles driving right overhead,” says Wesley Larson, who worked his way from office assistant to a graduate student position with Utah’s Brigham Young University, monitoring polar bears on Alaska’s North Slope.

Scientists have recorded an increase in human-wildlife conflict in the area, as offshore pack ice has decreased, forcing the bear population to create their dens closer to petrol industry activity. With increased industry interest in oil and gas leasing (租赁) in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, strong evidence to help support and carry out protective measures for the species has never been more important.

Wildlife managers in Alaska depend on a rule that industrial activity and research cannot take place within 1. 6 km of a den with newborn babies in it. Working with 15 years of monitoring records, and 30 years of notes concerning interactions between the industry and the bears, Larson and colleagues were able to confirm that the regulation was sufficient, but that more needed to be done to actively locate dens. He explains that with entrances quickly covered by snow and dens closed-up until spring, they are effectively undetectable to the naked eye.

“While technology such as forward-looking infrared cameras can be used to try to pick up a heat signature inside the den, it only works when conditions are perfect, and they rarely are in Arctic winter,” says Larson. He is now consulting on a project using radar technology to identify dens and ensure protection for the animals symbolic of the Arctic.

【推荐3】Not long ago, my wife and I tried a new diet—not to lose weight but to answer a question about climate change. Scientists have reported that the world is heating up even faster than they predicted just a few years ago. The consequences, they say, could be severe if we don’t keep reducing emissions of carbon dioxide (CO₂) and other greenhouse gases that are trapping heat in our atmosphere. But what can we do about it as individuals? And will our efforts really make any difference?

We decided to try an experiment: For one month we would track our personal emissions of CO₂ to see how much we could cut back. The average U.S. household produces about 80 kilos of CO₂, a day by doing commonplace things like turning on air conditioning or driving cars. This is more than twice the European average and almost five times the global average. But how much should we try to reduce?

I checked with Tim Flannery, author of The Weather Makers: How Man Is Changing the Climate and What It Means for Life on Earth. In his book, he challenged readers to make deep cuts in personal emissions to keep the world from reaching critical tipping points, such as the melting of the ice sheets in Greenland or West Antarctica. “To stay below that limitation, we need to reduce CO₂ emissions by 80 percent,” Tim Flannery said. “That sounds like a lot,” my wife said. “Can we really do that?”

It seemed unlikely to me, too. How close could we come to a lifestyle the planet could handle? Finally, we agreed to aim for 80 percent less than the U.S. average: a daily diet of about 13 kilograms of CO₂. Our first challenge was to find ways to convert our daily activities into kilos of CO₂ so that we could change our habits if necessary.

To get a rough idea of our current carbon footprint, I put numbers from recent bills into several calculators on websites. The results that came out were not very flattering. The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) website figured our annual CO₂ emissions at 24,618 kilos, 30 percent higher than the average U.S. family with two people. Clearly, we had further to go than I thought.

【推荐2】Plants may tell us when they’re in trouble. Thirsty tomato and tobacco plants make clicking sounds, researchers have found. The sounds are ultrasonic (超声波的), meaning they are too high-pitched for human ears to hear. But when the sounds are transformed to lower pitches, they sound like popping bubbles (爆破的泡泡). Plants also make clicks when their stems (茎) are cut.

“It’s not like the plants are screaming,” says Lilach Hadany, an evolutionary biologist working at Tel Aviv University in Israel. “Plants may not mean to make these noises. We’ve shown only that plants create informative sounds.”

Hadany and her colleagues first heard the clicks when they set microphones next to plants on tables in a lab. The microphones caught some noises. But the researchers needed to make sure that the clicking was coming from the plants. So, the scientists placed plants inside soundproof boxes in the basement, far from the noise of the lab. There, microphones picked up ultrasonic pops from thirsty tomato plants. Though it was outside humans’ hearing range, the clicking made by plants was about as loud as a normal conversation.

Cut tomato plants and dry or cut tobacco plants clicked, too. But plants that had enough water or hadn’t been cut stayed mostly quiet. Wheat, corn and grapevines also made sounds when stressed out.

The researchers don’t yet know why plants click. Bubbles forming and then popping inside plant tissues that transport water might make the noises. But however they happen, pops from crops could help farmers, the researchers suggest. Microphones, for example, could monitor fields or greenhouses to detect when plants need to be irrigated (灌溉).

Hadany wonders whether other plants and insects already tune into plant pops. Other studies have suggested that plants respond to sounds. And animals from pests (害虫), moths to mice can hear in the range of the ultrasonic clicks. Sounds made by plants could be heard from around five meters away. Hadany’s team is now studying what the living things near the plants will do after hearing the sounds.

【推荐3】A couple carved out a life on a small rock island, among the seabirds. The Bass Rock is a small volcanic island just off the east coast of Scotland. Remarkable in the Scottish imagination for its landform and location in the Firth of Forth near Edinburgh, the island has had a thin and intermittent(断断续续)human population across the centuries. Its most notable and sustained inhabitants are the northern gannets that have lived on the island throughout recorded history. With a population of roughly 150,000 birds, their home is the largest in the world.

The English naturalist June Nelson is one of the few people who have lived on the Bass Rock. For three years in the early 1960s. she and her late husband, the ornithologist Bryan Nelson. who was researching gannets at the University of Oxford, made the island their temporary home. Living and working out of a small church, they devoted themselves to observing and recording the behaviors and ecology of the birds. The then-newly-married had little contact with the outside world, but led a happy life together.

In the short documentary Life on the Rocks, Nelson revisits her full and focused years on the Bass Rock. Combining cinematic black-and-white shots of the island with music. the UK director George Pretty creates a vivid account of Nelson’s unforgettable time there, as well as her emotional return. Mining Nelson’s memories and old photographs, the film explores how the husband-and-wife team found happiness on this unique patch of Earth, and among its many birds. But, more than just a fondness for the past, Nelson communicates an urgency to protect the plummeting(暴跌)global sea-bird population, which has declined by 70% in her lifetime, asking “What right have we to deprive(剥夺)future generations of this wonderful place?”