Environment + Energy – The Conversation

One family’s ocean paddle almost ended in tragedy. It reminds us coastal weather is notoriously changeable

2026-02-04T21:58:34Z

The extraordinary rescue this week in Geographe Bay, Western Australia has been described as heroic. A 13-year-old boy swam four hours to shore in rough seas after his family was swept far from the beach. This boy’s bravery in raising the alarm is to be commended.

For the public, it’s useful to consider how the family found itself in this predicament. The boy’s mother told the ABC the weather conditions had rapidly changed. This is similar to other recent marine rescues.

According to the boy’s mother, conditions were calm when she and her three children set out on inflatable paddle boards and a kayak. But in a short time, strong winds and waves pushed them steadily out to sea, leaving them clinging to a board about 14 kilometres from shore.

How does weather change so quickly at sea – and why does it catch even careful people by surprise?

Why ‘good’ weather can change rapidly

Coastal weather is notoriously dynamic. Unlike conditions on land, which are shaped by friction from terrain, the atmosphere over the ocean can change rapidly as wind systems move unobstructed across large distances.

In southern WA, afternoon sea breezes are a key factor, such as the Fremantle Doctor. On warm days, air rises over land and draws cooler air in from the ocean. These sea breezes can strengthen rapidly in the late afternoon or early evening, sometimes increasing by around 10 knots or more over a few hours.

In Geographe Bay, about 220 kilometres south of Perth, a strengthening afternoon south-westerly sea breeze could plausibly drive a light inflatable craft away from shore. Owing to the orientation of the Quindalup–Dunsborough coastline, prevailing summer sea breezes strike the coast obliquely, creating cross-shore drift that can steadily increase the distance from land once paddlers lose their ability to make headway.

Sudden wind shifts can also occur when cold fronts approach. Even if a front is hours away, pressure changes ahead of it can cause winds to freshen unexpectedly, particularly later in the day.

Paddleboarding has become extremely popular as ocean craft become more affordable. Oxk/Unsplash, CC BY-ND

Winds, waves and currents

Wind alone is dangerous enough, but when combined with waves and currents it can dramatically reduce a person’s ability to return to shore, even with a craft.

Strong winds striking the coast obliquely create surface drift, pushing lightweight vessels – such as inflatable paddleboards and kayaks – steadily offshore. At the same time, wind-driven waves increase drag, making paddling or swimming far more exhausting.

Ocean currents compound the problem. Even modest currents of 1–2 knots can exceed a swimmer’s sustainable speed over long distances. Against waves and wind, fatigue sets in quickly, increasing the risk of panic, hypothermia and drowning.

Research consistently shows people overestimate their ability to swim or paddle against environmental forces. Once offshore drift begins, the distance to shore can increase much faster than people realise.

Inflatables – a boon and a potential bane

Inflatable craft, such as stand-up paddle boards, are increasingly popular as they’re often cheap, portable and easy to use.

But they’re also particularly vulnerable to wind, even light breezes.

Because inflatables sit high on the water and have little mass, they act like sails. Even moderate winds can overpower a paddler’s strength, especially when conditions deteriorate. Marine safety agencies repeatedly warn inflatables should only be used close to shore, in light winds, and with constant attention to changing conditions.

In coastal Australia, large-scale wind changes often unfold over hours, but conditions on the water can feel dramatically worse within minutes once waves build and fatigue sets in. The weather can shift from benign to hazardous within minutes, particularly in the afternoon and early evening.

This is why marine forecasts often emphasise timing, not just wind strength.

A forecast of “10–15 knots increasing to 20 knots in the afternoon” may sound manageable. But for paddlers and swimmers, that increase can mark the difference between control and crisis.

Clouds developing, rising wind, whitecap waves forming further offshore and a sudden drop in temperature are all warning signs that conditions are changing, and a cold front is approaching.

What to do if caught out

First, stay calm. Staying with the craft, such as the inflatable paddle board, is imperative. It provides flotation and – crucially for rescue – visibility. If you have a life jacket, you should keep it on.

If you don’t have a flotation device, you should float on your back. Remember, Float to Survive. Floating on your back, keeping limbs relaxed, and pacing your effort can extend survival time significantly.

If you must swim, swimming diagonally across waves or with the waves, rather than directly against them, may help reduce exhaustion. Crucially, raise the alarm as soon as possible. Early notification gives rescue crews a far greater chance of success.

How to avoid this situation

Prevention remains the most effective safety strategy.

Before heading out, check marine forecasts – not just general weather apps – and pay close attention to wind strength, direction and timing. Avoid inflatables when winds are forecast to increase later in the day.

Always wear a life jacket, even in calm conditions, and carry a waterproof communication device if possible.

Stay close to shore, set clear limits on how far you’ll go, and be prepared to turn back early. Always let other people know you’re heading out to sea, even if you plan on staying very close to shore.

The Geographe Bay rescue had a remarkable outcome, thanks to the extraordinary courage and determination of the young boy. But it also highlights a sobering reality: the ocean doesn’t need to be stormy to become dangerous. Sometimes, it just needs the weather to change – and it often does, faster than we expect.

Samuel Cornell does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Victoria’s mountain ash forests naturally thin their trees. So why do it with machines?

2026-02-04T04:13:46Z

David Clode/Unsplash, CC BY-ND

There has been much global discussion about the best ways to manage Earth’s forests in an era of climate change and more frequent bushfires.

Some foresters and forest managers support and recommend large-scale industrial thinning of forests, where a proportion of the trees are removed (thinned) with machines to increase the size of the remaining trees. Thinning is commonly used in timber plantations, as it accelerates the development of timber trees.

In its new forest plan, the Victorian government has funded a “healthy forests” program. This will likely entail reducing the number of trees in the forest and increasing the space between trees. This plan could lead to extensive mechanical thinning in the state’s forests. Large-scale mechanical thinning has already been used in native forests in western Victoria.

Plans for mechanical thinning of forests raises important questions: what effect will this have? Could it be harmful? And is it necessary for forest health?

In our new study, we describe how mountain ash forests naturally change over time, from young, dense and uniform forests 15 years after wildfire, to forests with lower densities of large trees (and smaller trees) in older age. Our work suggests human intervention is not needed to reduce the density of trees or create a diversity of tree sizes needed for wildlife.

What we know about thinning

Some research suggests thinning can reduce the risk of severe wildfires in some forests (such as some pine forests in the United States). But in other types of forests, including in some of Australia’s eucalypt forests, thinning either has no effect on fire or can even make fires worse. Indeed, Australian forestry management manuals clearly warn of increased fire risks from thinning.

Thinning has also been shown to increase water yield and drought resilience in some forests (including tall eucalypt forest), but these benefits are short-lived as plants quickly regenerate in the new gaps formed by thinning.

Last October, the Victorian government released its Future of State Forests report. It describes a “healthy forests” program in which widespread mechanical thinning is very likely to be employed. Large-scale mechanical thinning has already been used in native forests in western Victoria, such as the Wombat State Forest, to reduce trunk density and increase space between trees. Current government policy will likely see it applied in the state’s Central Highlands and East Gippsland.

Using mechanical thinning can be counterproductive. For example, thinning with large machines can compact soils, increase the risk of bushfire, degrade habitat for wildlife, and produce carbon emissions. It’s also expensive (in the US, it costs about $US1270 ($A1830) per hectare, with the costs likely to significantly outweigh the short-term benefits.

What many people might not realise is forest trees naturally reduce and “thin” over time. This reduction happens as the size of the remaining trunks increase, a process of natural “self thinning”. In fact, natural self-thinning is a key ecological principle that shapes almost all forests and woodlands globally.

What we found in Victorian forests

In our new study, we describe the process of natural self-thinning in Victorian forests of mountain ash, the tallest flowering plants in the world.

Our work quantifies how these forests naturally reduce the numbers of trees by 50 to 60%, from young forests regenerating from fires in 2009, through to old growth forests (greater than 120 years). This natural self-thinning occurs because less competitive trees lose the race for light and other resources and die.

As mountain ash forests matured, the number of trees declined naturally and markedly. In young forests (15 years old) tree densities were high (7000 trees per hectare), but in old forests (120 years old) tree densities were much lower (1450 trees per hectare). Not all tree species reduced at the same magnitude as others. For example, young forests were dominated by thousands of wattles and eucalypts per hectare. This profile changed significantly in old growth forests to less than 100 eucalypt trees and about 20 wattle trees per hectare on average.

In a mountain ash forest, the number of trees on a given site also varied if it was on a steep slope or flat area, and at different elevations. This variation is likely to be the result of light, moisture and soil properties.

Importantly, as the number of trees in mountain ash forests reduce naturally over time, trees become larger and more varied in size. This is because older forests contain trees of different ages, some shorter and smaller, and others larger and taller. Other studies have shown forests with a diversity of tree sizes are important for animals such as arboreal marsupials and birds.

What forests look like without intervention

Our new study of natural self-thinning is significant for many reasons. First, it sets the benchmark for how large trees will grow in mountain ash forests over time, and what these forests look like without human intervention. This can be used to guide restoration practices. Second, it demonstrates mechanical thinning is not needed to help these forests to develop into older stages.

Getting forest management right is critical — under the current climate, forests face a hotter and more uncertain future. Evidence-based ecological management is essential in forests and we must aim to avoid risky management, such as the use of widespread mechanical thinning in these forests.

Instead, the limited funding available for forest management should be employed to support other restoration activities with a higher chance of success. These could include targeting areas of forest where restoration has failed after past logging operations. Logging has devastated Victoria’s native forests, and new research shows 20% has failed to grow back.

Forest managers and policymakers need to understand mountain ash forests naturally self-thin and interventions like mechanical thinning are not needed. At best, large-scale mechanical thinning operations are essentially a waste of money. At worst, they degrade forests, making them more flammable, eroding habitat, compromising water security and compacting soils.

Elle Bowd receives funding from the Australian government, the NSW government, and the ACT government.

David Lindenmayer receives funding from the Australian government, the Victorian government, and the Australian research Council. He is a councillor with the Biodiversity Council, and a Fellow of the Australian Academy of Science, the American Academy of Science, the Ecological Society of America and the Royal Zoological Society of NSW. He is a member of Birdlife Australia.

Potoroos digging for ‘truffles’ keep their forests healthy – but for how long?

2026-02-03T19:08:57Z

Think truffles and you’ll probably think of France. But Australia is actually a global hotspot for truffle-like fungi, boasting hundreds of different species. Like culinary truffles, these truffle-like fungi produce underground sporing bodies rather than send up mushrooms.

Living underground has its challenges. Fungi which form mushrooms above ground can easily disperse their spores (the fungal equivalent to a plant’s seed) on the wind. But truffle-like fungi can’t do this. Instead, they rely on native mammals to follow their pungent smells, dig up the underground sporing body, eat it and disperse their spores in their scat.

Many native mammals eat fungi when they are easily available, including common brushtail possums (Trichosurus vulpecula), swamp wallabies (Wallabia bicolor), bush rats (Rattus fuscipes), and greater bilbies (Macrotis lagotis), but they generally don’t rely on them for a large part of their diet in the same way as potoroos and bettongs do. Among these fungi fans, there’s one species which stands out.

Australia’s most specialised fungi-eater is the long-footed potoroo (Potorous longipes), which relies on these fungi for over 90% of its diet. It’s likely to be one of the most fungi-dependent mammals in the world. Their nocturnal work digging up and eating fungi supports forests in southeastern Australia by helping to maintain the fungi-tree symbiosis.

The long-footed potoroo has long been rare due to habitat loss and fox predation. It’s been endangered for decades. Once considered more widespread, their range is now restricted to two regions between Victoria and New South Wales, much of which burned during the 2019-2020 megafires.

But there’s a newer threat: climate change.

In our new research, we analyse a rare long-term collection of potoroo scats. We found that as conditions get hotter, these potoroos are eating a much smaller range of fungi. This has significant implications for potoroo diets, fungal dispersal, and the health of our forests.

What’s in that scat?

Many truffle-like fungi live in ectomycorrhizal symbiosis with native trees such as eucalypts. This means they trade nutrients between their threadlike hyphae and the tree’s root system, a remarkably ancient relationship which supports tree growth and health and provides their fungal partners with a source of energy.

To explore whether climate change has been affecting the truffle-like fungi consumed by the long-footed potoroo, we partnered with colleagues at the Royal Botanic Gardens Victoria, CSIRO and the Victorian Department of Energy, Environment and Climate Action. We then turned to an extensive and extremely rare collection of potoroo scats.

These scats have been painstakingly collected over 23 years (1993-2016) by department staff. Collections of scats are enormously valuable to researchers, as they give us clear evidence of what an animal has been eating – and if their diets have changed over time.

Long-footed potoroos forage for fungi at night. This potoroo was captured on a trail camera. Emily McIntyre, CC BY-NC

We used DNA analysis to track which species of truffle-like fungi these potoroos had eaten over time. This process involved sequencing fungal DNA present in potoroo scats, and matching these DNA sequences to a fungal species database. This left us with a list of fungal species that were present in each potoroo scat.

Overall, we found potoroos ate fewer species of truffle-like fungi in warmer conditions. This trend was visible from season to season, as well as between years. As temperatures continue to increase due to climate change, we expect that long-footed potoroos will continue to consume fewer species of truffle-like fungi.

More heat, less fungal variety

During warm conditions, potoroos ate less of some genera of truffle-like fungi and more of others such as Mesophellia, a genus of truffle-like fungi producing hard-cased sporing bodies between five and 40 cm underground.

We already know these fungi are eaten in abundance by hungry bettongs after a bushfire. As climate change brings warmer temperatures, we expect Mesophellia may increasingly act as an important food source for long-footed potoroos when other resources are scarce.

Overall, our findings suggest climate change may make it harder for potoroos to get as wide a range of fungi to eat, which might make it harder for these marsupials to get the nutrients they need. The nutrition in sporing bodies varies widely between species, so eating a narrower fungal diet may mean less diverse nutrients.

If this happens, it’s possible potoroos could shift their diets and eat more insects or plants. But it’s not a guarantee, given these animals are such specialised fungi-eaters.

This, in turn, could have wider flow-on effects. If potoroos consume fewer species of truffle-like fungi, some species may have fewer chances to spread around landscapes. If they become rarer, it could disrupt the long symbiosis between fungi and ectomycorrhizal forest trees in lowland coastal forests through to tall mountain forests.

This three-way relationship benefits long-footed potoroos, truffle-like fungi, and the native trees that form ectomycorrhizal partnerships with these fungi. Each member of this relationship depends on the others.

Ripple effects

Not many people have seen these shy potoroos. But they have an importance far beyond their modest size. The simple act of digging up and eating truffle-like fungi is vital for the potoroo, the fungi and the forests around them.

Many of Australia’s once-common digging marsupials have become rare or been driven to extinction since European colonisation. The long-footed potoroo, too, is endangered by historic and ongoing threats, ranging from habitat loss to fox predation to climate change.

We don’t know yet how climate change will affect the complex relationship between potoroo, fungi, and the forests around them. Understanding these complex relationships is essential if we are to protect them against an uncertain future.

Craig Nitschke receives funding from the Department of Energy, Environment and Climate Action, the Australian Research Council, and Australian Forest and Wood Innovations.

Emily McIntyre does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Renewables over 50%, wholesale prices down – is the energy transition… succeeding?

2026-02-03T05:32:36Z

Richard Pan/Pexels, CC BY-NC-ND

Ten years ago, if a heatwave as intense as last week’s record-breaker had hit the east coast, Australia’s power supply may well have buckled. But this time, the system largely operated as we needed, despite some outages.

On Australia’s main grid last quarter, renewables and energy storage contributed more than 50% of supplied electricity for the first time, while wholesale power prices were more than 40% lower than a year earlier.

Australia’s long, complicated and difficult energy transition is finally working. As our recent research suggests, if these trends continue – and nothing new goes wrong – we should begin to see lower retail electricity bills by mid-2026. As more coal plants close and new transmission and storage infrastructure is delivered, electricity prices could rise again. But overall, shifting demand from gas and coal for power and petrol for cars is likely to deliver significantly lower energy bills for households.

It’s not yet job done and challenges remain, but the immediate trends are positive.

Renewables and batteries up, wholesale prices down

Last quarter, wind generation was up almost 30%, grid solar 15% and grid-scale batteries almost tripled their output. Gas generation fell 27% to its lowest level for a quarter century, while coal fell 4.6% to its lowest quarterly level ever.

Gas has long been the most expensive way to produce power. Gas peaking plants tend to fire up only when supply struggles to meet demand and power prices soar. Less demand for gas has flowed through to lower wholesale prices.

That doesn’t mean consumers will see immediate benefit, as wholesale prices are only about 40% of a power bill and most retailers move prices once a year. But if lower wholesale prices are sustained, it should begin to bring relief to consumers.

Power system holding up under strain

Last quarter was unusually good for the system. In recent years, many ageing coal plants have become less reliable. But the old plants held up at critical times. Rain filled Snowy Hydro’s reservoirs, giving hydro power a boost, while solar and wind produced well.

In early January, intense bushfires ripped through grasslands, forests and several Victorian towns. Some areas lost power when timber power poles burned or when trees fell on transmission lines. Sustained heat can cause power substations or transformers to fail more often. But these issues were mostly localised.

Until recently, summer heatwaves put real strain on the power grid, as millions of people fired up their air conditioners at once. But this summer, the system largely dealt fine. Not only were most fossil generators available most of the time, but high output from rooftop solar pairs exceptionally well with demand for air-conditioning.

Electricity storage expanding

Until very recently, electricity had to be made immediately before use. Storing it was only possible in expensive and uncommon pumped hydro facilities. This is why batteries are proving revolutionary. For the first time, power can be made and easily stored for later use.

Plummeting battery prices have led to a surge in installations in Australia. Since 2024, close to 4,000 megawatts of grid storage has come online. Until recently, grid batteries found more use stabilising the grid than powering it. But the growing fleet of grid-scale batteries is now beginning to outcompete gas by soaking up surplus solar and wind and releasing it during evening peaks.

At smaller scale, the government’s home battery rebate has been hugely popular, leading to cost blowouts and very rapid uptake. Many householders have found them a lifeline during power outages.

In the future, medium-scale community batteries able to power towns or suburbs could help boost grid resilience.

Transmission delays mean coal is needed longer

Hitting higher levels of renewables will require new transmission lines. Some of these are on track, but others are well behind.

This is one reason NSW’s Eraring coal plant will sensibly keep running until 2029. Delays completing the new NSW-South Australia transmission line, EnergyConnect, also pushed back the planned closure of the Torrens Island gas power plant near Adelaide.

Gas plays an important role

Gas will be needed for longer than coal, given it can fire up quickly and fill gaps when wind and sun aren’t abundant. It won’t be used much, but will be an essential backup.

The role of gas is changing, but the gas market has its own challenges. Governments are trying to address longstanding gas market problems. Late last year, the federal government flagged a mandatory east coast gas reservation scheme.

Victoria at the pointy end

There are problems looming for Victoria, Australia’s most gas-dependent state. Bass Strait wells are running dry and most of Queensland and WA’s gas is exported as liquefied natural gas (LNG). The Victorian government recently opened up new areas for gas exploration after previously rejecting the idea.

A new plan by federal, state and territory energy ministers may see the Australian Energy Market Operator gain more power to intervene in the gas market, potentially through contracting for new infrastructure such as pipelines and import terminals.

The state government is trying to shift away from gas, but it’s a slow process.

The Victorian government has high hopes for offshore wind farms to take advantage of the stronger and more reliable winds whipping across Bass Strait. But progress towards the goal of 2 gigawatts by 2032 has been slow and no turbines have yet been installed.

Some developers have withdrawn applications amid global uncertainty and delays to the auction process. Last week, Victoria announced the process would finally begin in August. The question is whether there’s enough time left to replace retiring coal plants with new offshore wind.

Victoria is pinning its hopes on Bass Strait’s strong, reliable winds. Mitchell Luo/Pexels, CC BY-NC-ND

Yes, it’s progress

It wasn’t so long ago it was popular to claim Australia’s grid could never accommodate more than 20% renewables. Now we’re at 50%.

That’s not to say it will be smooth sailing. The government’s goal of 82% renewables in four years looks to be a stretch. But it’s clear real progress is being made – and not a moment too soon.

Tony Wood does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

These voices are the loudest in Australia’s ‘climate wars’

2026-02-03T03:03:07Z

The Conversation, CC BY-SA

There’s a reason political commentators refer to Australia’s “climate wars”. Every time a climate policy is put on the table, supporters and opponents come out in force and duke it out.

Last year, debates over Australia’s greenhouse gas emissions target led to a heated contest between various groups such as the Climate Council — arguing for strong action — and others such as the Business Council of Australia, which commissioned modelling to highlight the economic costs of a strong target.

This was not a one-off. Since at least the 1990s, emissions-intensive industries such as coal and gas and their lobby groups have had an outsized influence on climate policy. This includes groups such as the Minerals Council of Australia, which represents BHP, Rio Tinto and Whitehaven Coal, and Australian Energy Producers, which lobbies on behalf of BP, Shell and Woodside, among others.

Until now, we did not have a good understanding of who mobilises on climate policy in Australia, what side of the issue they fall on, and in which arenas they mobilise. In our new research, we found a core set of only 20 groups dominating climate policy debate in Australia, including gas corporations, industry lobby groups, environmental NGOs, and think tanks.

Who are these groups?

To find out which groups are most influential, we collected data on all organisations active on climate policy in Australia between 2017 and 2022. This included examining the number of groups as well as their volume of activity in the executive branch of government (responsible for implementing and enforcing laws, managing day-to-day administration and setting policy), the parliament and the media.

For example, we identified 700,000 mentions of groups in articles about climate change from 13 media outlets, including The Australian and the Sydney Morning Herald.

As well as media records, we also built a database of organisations who actively consulted with government departments and provided evidence to parliamentary inquiries.

We found 20 groups accounted for more than half (52%) of all activity.

They included a mix of mining and energy firms, such as AGL, BHP and Rio Tinto and their lobby groups, such as the Minerals Council of Australia. It also included high-profile NGOs, such as the Climate Council, and think tanks active on climate policy, including the Australia Institute and the Grattan Institute.

It’s important to note we didn’t look at the content of the messages in the media, the parliament or in departmental consultations, just the number of organisations and the frequency of their activity.

Where do these groups stand on climate action?

Among the 20 groups, some are strong supporters of climate action, such as the Climate Council. By contrast, the Minerals Council of Australia has a long history of opposing climate policies dating back to the Kyoto Protocol in the 2000s and the short-lived carbon price in the 2010s.

Interestingly, there are more pro-climate groups than anti-climate groups. Most NGOs in our study tended to support action on climate change, including the Australian Conservation Foundation, Greenpeace and WWF.

Many of the business groups do not. But it’s not as black and white as this might suggest. Firms and business advocacy groups are not unified. A growing number of renewable energy companies now mobilise in support of climate policy, often through advocacy groups such as the Smart Energy Council.

Interestingly, many industries active on climate policy don’t have a hardwired position. Rather, they sometimes support and sometimes oppose climate policy. This is often because their commercial interests are only indirectly impacted by climate policies, such as firms in the technology or finance industries.

These somewhat “neutral” groups actually account for the majority of groups active on climate policy in Australia.

Does this vary by arena?

We also explored whether some groups dominate the media more than the parliament, or the parliament more than the executive. For example, are environmental NGOs more active in the media than in Senate hearings? Are business groups more active in consultations with the government departments that make up the executive branch of government?

Interestingly, we found the media is the only arena where fossil fuel interests dominate. For example, groups typically opposed to climate action represent 43% of all media mentions, compared to 20% in support and 36% neutral.

This begs the question – why does the media appear to have a strong bias for reporting pro-fossil fuel messages?

One explanation consistent with overseas studies is simply that messages from business coalitions and very large businesses are more likely to receive media coverage than other types of organisations, such as environmental NGOs.

These organisations are likely to have high standing in the media because they are viewed as key players in policy debates with inside knowledge. Certainly in Australia, the largest firms and lobby groups mobilised on climate change are tied to fossil fuel industries.

Do these groups matter?

As we sweat through another of the hottest summers on record, the federal government will rightly remain under pressure to put in place further policies to cut carbon pollution. In fact, recent polling shows one in two Australians want action on climate change “even if this involves significant costs”.

Who mobilises to support or oppose climate policies will likely have a big influence on policy outcomes such as increasing renewable electricity in the grid, phasing out petrol and diesel vehicles or stopping new coal and gas projects.

Our research shows a core set of groups, including firms in the coal and gas industries, that are likely to have an outsized voice in such policy debates.

While this does not always equate to influence, it is an important precondition. In the media in particular, it appears fossil fuel interests have the loudest voice.

This research was funded by the Climate Social Science Network.

Household rat poisons found to be ‘unacceptable risk’ to native animals. So why aren’t they banned?

2026-02-01T19:12:04Z

John Smith , CC BY-ND

The Australian authority that regulates pesticides has finally released its long-delayed review of the rodenticide poisons used by millions of Australians to combat rat and mice infestations.

As researchers who study Australia’s amazing native owls (and more recently, the rodenticide poisoning of wildlife), we were extremely hopeful about its findings. We thought this review would make world-leading recommendations that would protect wildlife and set the global standard for regulating these toxic compounds.

Instead, the recommendations from the Australian Pesticides and Veterinary Medicines Authority (APVMA) leave Australians still reliant on rodent poisons that are responsible for most of the documented impacts on wildlife globally.

Australia’s largest owl, the powerful owl, can be poisoned by these rodenticides when they eat possums that have accidentally eaten rat poison. John White, CC BY-ND

Why these poisons are a wildlife problem

Second-generation anticoagulant rodenticides (SGARs) which include brodifacoum, bromadiolone, difethialone, difenacoum and flocoumafen, are the core problem. These extremely potent poisons prevent normal blood clotting processes and ultimately lead to death, often via uncontrollable internal bleeding.

When a rat or mouse eats a SGAR-based bait, the poison remains in its body for up to a year. This is how it ultimately passes to predators and scavengers such as owls, frogmouths, raptors, quolls and goannas that eat the poisoned animal.

These native animals die slowly and painfully. This process, known as secondary poisoning, is well documented in predators in Australia and globally.

What the review found

The review acknowledges the science and highlights the risks that SGARs pose, not only to our wildlife and fragile ecosystems but also potentially to humans.

However, despite the risks and advice from scientists to ban SGARs, the review proposes keeping SGARs as the primary tool for Australia’s war on rodents. It described them as an “unacceptable risk”, but stopped short of recommending a blanket ban.

The review argues SGARs remain essential for rodent control, especially with rodents developing some resistance to older poisons. The proposed changes focus on mitigating exposure risk to non-rodents. These include changes to labels and the way bait is delivered, and packaging controls. Under these changes, SGARs will remain widely available to the public.

Ultimately the real difficulty – not adequately addressed – is broader than simply preventing non-rodents from consuming baits. The real issue lies with the nature of the toxins themselves.

These poisons are highly effective at killing rodents, but they do not kill them quickly. After eating poisoned bait, a doomed “zombie” rodent will remain alive for several days, potentially up to a week. During this time, their behaviour changes. Normally cautious, these nocturnal animals become slower, disoriented and far more likely to be eaten by predators such as owls (or even your pet cat or dog).

Crucially, these poisoned “zombie” rodents can continue to eat more poisoned bait. By the time they die, they may contain very high concentrations of rodenticide.

Secondary poisoning is a predictable outcome

When a predator eats a poisoned rodent (or any other poisoned species), it also ingests its poison. This is unlikely to cause immediate death, but SGARs accumulate in the liver and remain there for up to a year. With repeated consumption of poisoned animals, the predator reaches a toxic threshold and dies.

Unfortunately, secondary poisoning is not an accidental or a misuse scenario. It is a highly predictable outcome of allowing the use of poisons in our ecosystems that accumulate in the body.

Paradoxically, the animals most affected by SGARs are the very species that help control mice and rat populations naturally. Predators such as owls breed more slowly than rodents. When rodenticides kill predators in urban and agricultural landscapes, rodent problems often worsen and spur further reliance on poisons. This creates a damaging feedback loop that Australia has been reinforcing for decades, one not addressed by the proposed changes.

Many researchers, including our colleagues and ourselves, argued during this review that meaningful reform requires either banning SGARs in Australia completely or severely restricting access so they are not available to the public. Other countries such as Switzerland and Canada have reached similar conclusions, and responded by significantly limiting access to these compounds with the intent of banning them.

Australia’s proposed changes move in the wrong direction, and leave us considerably behind much of the developed world. Australia will continue using rodenticides that cause the greatest harm, such as SGARs. And lower-risk alternatives that use the First Generation Anticoagulant Rodenticide (FGAR), such as Warfarin, face cancellation because they do not contain chemicals that make them bitter – an aspect to try and make them less attractive to non-rodent species.

Warfarin-based baits are safer as they do not accumulate in the body of poisoned animals to the same extent and they are expelled from the body more quickly, reducing the risk of secondary poisoning.

Unlike many parts of the world, second generation rodenticides are available for the public to purchase in Australia. John White, CC BY-ND

Restriction will protect wildlife

This review could have broken the cycle of poisoning native Australian predators in the name of rodent control. Instead, it preserves a system that does not work here, or anywhere else in the world.

If Australia is serious about protecting its wildlife while managing rodents effectively, it must confront the role of SGARs directly. Adjusting labels and packaging cannot solve a problem driven by the chemistry of the poisons themselves.

We simply must do better. Until access to these compounds is meaningfully restricted, secondary poisoning will remain an inevitable – and entirely preventable – outcome. Many native animals will continue to die slow and painful deaths.

John White receives funding from various organisations for ecological and toxicological research.

Raylene Cooke receives funding from various organizations to undertake ecological and toxicological research.

We know how to cool our cities and towns. So why aren’t we doing it?

2026-01-29T19:12:18Z

This week, Victoria recorded its hottest day in nearly six years. On Tuesday, the northwest towns of Walpeup and Hopetoun reached 48.9°C, and the temperature in parts of Melbourne soared over 45°C. Towns in South Australia also broke heat records.

This heatwave is not an outlier. It is a warning shot.

These weather conditions rival the extreme heat seen in the lead-up to the 2019–20 Black Summer, and they point to a future in which days like this are no longer rare, but routine.

What makes this summer so confronting is not just how hot it has been, but this: Australia already knows how to cool cities, yet we are failing to do it. Why?

Urban heat is not inevitable

Cities heat up faster and stay hotter than surrounding areas because of how they are built. Dense development, dark road surfaces, limited shade, and buildings that trap heat and rely heavily on air-conditioning create the “urban heat island” effect.

This means cities absorb vast amounts of heat during the day and release it slowly at night, preventing the city from cooling down even after sunset. During heatwaves, this trapped heat accumulates day after day and pushes temperatures well beyond what people can safely tolerate.

Future urbanisation is expected to amplify projected urban heat, irrespective of background climate conditions. Global climate change is making the urban heat island effect worse, but much of the heat we experience in cities has been built in through decades of planning and design choices.

Hot cities are not only a result of climate change, they are also a failure of urban planning. zpagistock/Getty

Heat is a health and equity crisis

Heatwaves already kill more than 1,100 Australians each year, more than any other natural hazard. Extreme heat increases the risk of heart and respiratory disease, worsens chronic illness, disrupts sleep and overwhelms health services.

Poorly designed and inadequately insulated homes, particularly in rental and social housing can become heat traps. People on low incomes are least able to afford effective cooling, pushing many into energy debt or forcing them to endure dangerously high temperatures. Urban heat deepens existing inequalities. Those who contributed least to the problem often bear the greatest burden.

Australia has expertise, but not ambition

Here is the paradox. Australia is a major contributor to global research on urban heat. Australian researchers are developing national tools to measure and mitigate urban heat, and studies from cities such as Melbourne have quantified urban heat island intensity and investigated how urban design can influence heat stress.

Additionally, Australia already has the technologies to cool cities, from reflective coatings and heat-resilient pavements to advanced shading systems. Yet many of our cities remain dangerously hot. The issue isn’t a lack of solutions, but the failure to roll them out at scale.

Internationally, we are lagging behind countries where large-scale heat mitigation projects are already reducing urban temperatures, cutting energy demand and saving lives.

For example, Paris has adopted a city-wide strategy to create “cool islands”, transforming public spaces and schoolyards into shaded, cooler places that reduce heat stress during heatwaves.

In China, the Sponge City program, now implemented in cities such as Shenzhen and Wuhan, uses green infrastructure and water-sensitive design to cool urban areas and reduce heat stress.

Paris has a city-wide strategy to create cool zones by transforming public spaces into shaded environments. 42 North/Unsplash, CC BY

Symbolic change can’t meet the challenge

Too often, urban heat policy stops at small, symbolic actions, a pocket park here, a tree-planting program there. These measures are important, but they are not sufficient for the scale of the challenge.

Greening cities is essential. Trees cool streets, improve thermal comfort and deliver multiple health and environmental benefits. But greenery has limits. If buildings remain poorly insulated, roads continue to absorb heat and cooling demand keeps rising, trees alone will not protect cities from extreme temperatures in the coming decades.

Urban heat is a complex systems problem. It emerges from how cities are built, and is largely shaped by construction materials, building codes, transport systems and planning decisions locked in over generations. Scientists know a great deal about how to reduce urban heat, but many responses remain piecemeal and intuitive rather than systemic.

Designing an uncomfortable future

Research suggests that even if global warming is limited to below 2°C, heatwaves in major Australian cities could approach 50°C by 2040. At those temperatures, emergency responses alone will not be enough. Beyond certain temperature thresholds, behaviour change, public warnings and cooling centres cannot fully protect people.

The choices we make now about buildings, streets, materials and energy systems will determine whether Australian cities become increasingly unliveable, or remain places where people can safely live, work and age.

The battle against urban heat will be won or lost through design, technology, innovation and political will. Cities need to deploy advanced cool materials across roofs, buildings and roads, in combination with nature-based solutions. This will only work if governments use incentives to reward heat-safe design. Heat must be planned for systematically, not treated as a cosmetic problem.

With leadership and a handful of well-designed, large-scale projects, Australia could shift from laggard to leader. We have the science. We have the industry. We have the solutions. The heat is here. The only real question is whether we act, or keep absorbing it.

A/Prof. Elmira Jamei does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Anatomy of a heatwave: how a cyclone, humid air and atmospheric waves drove brutal heat in the southeast

2026-01-29T19:12:06Z

Andrew Merry/Getty

Australia has always had heatwaves. But this week’s heatwave in southeastern Australia is something else. Temperatures in some inland towns in South Australia, New South Wales and Victoria were up to 20°C above average for the time of year, which meteorologists described as “incredibly abnormal”. Victoria’s heat record toppled after Walpeup and Hopetoun hit 48.9°C. The heat is set to continue until Saturday in some areas.

As global temperatures inch upwards, summer heatwaves form against a background of higher temperatures. Heatwaves (commonly defined as three or more days of unusual heat) and extreme heat (shorter periods of intense heat) are becoming more common and more intense.

Heatwaves kill more Australians than all other natural hazards combined. In the four years to 2019, more than 1,000 people died due to heatwaves.

Heatwaves emerge from atmospheric processes which largely take place in the upper atmosphere, around 5–10 kilometres above sea level. Perhaps counterintuitively, the southeast’s record-breaking heatwave is linked to masses of moisture-laden air in Western Australia and a tropical cyclone off the northwest coast.

That’s not all. Slow-moving high pressure systems in the southeast and the southern drought have likely also made this heatwave worse. Heatwaves are complex. As Australia gets hotter, understanding these dangerous phenomena is essential.

Meanders in the jetstream

Our research has shown heatwaves hitting Australia’s southeast have a clear link to the atmospheric phenomenon known as Rossby waves. These waves manifest as disturbances in the narrow, fast-flowing jetstream that flows from west to east in the atmosphere kilometres above the surface. The waves play a major role in the weather in the southern half of Australia.

As the jetstream wobbles, it pushes aside winds to the north and south to form regions of alternating high and low pressure. As the undulations grow and deepen, they amplify the weather we experience on the ground.

Air inside a high-pressure system (or ridge) descends towards the surface and is compressed by the increasing atmospheric pressure, heating it. The end result is higher temperatures near the ground. The slower these systems move, the more delayed the welcome cool change from a summertime cold front. If these systems move slowly enough, they can turn one hot day into several, or even a heatwave.

What makes these systems bigger or slower moving?

Several things can intensify or slow down these high pressure systems.

The first is tied to Rossby waves. Cold fronts form on the western edge of high pressure systems embedded in the atmospheric wave. Moist air flows along the cold front, moving humid air polewards and upwards between the two systems. This is known as a warm conveyor belt.

Processes within the conveyor belt of warm, moist air can make high pressure ridges even stronger and more likely to persist.

The origins of this week’s heatwave are high in the atmosphere. ECMWF Integrated Forecasting System, CC BY-NC-ND

This week’s heatwave was given an extra boost by Tropical Cyclone Luana, which made landfall on January 24 over the northwest coast near Derby. Luana moved inland and added even more moisture to the warm conveyor belt, bringing some rain to the Nullarbor.

Luana may have influenced the southeastern heatwave in a second way. Anticyclonic outflows from cyclones higher in the atmosphere can disturb the jet stream, amplifying the Rossby waves and strengthening the upper-level ridge, potentially lengthening the heatwave.

2009 redux?

There are clear similarities between this week’s heat and the intense, long-lasting heatwave starting in late January 2009. That heatwave broke records across the southeast of Australia and paved the way for Victoria’s devastating bushfires on February 7, now known as Black Saturday.

The 2009 heatwave has strong parallels with the current heatwave, such as a cyclone, Rossby waves and the warm conveyor belt. ECMWF Integrated Forecasting System, CC BY-NC-ND

Both heatwaves are linked to a large-amplitude Rossby wave moving across the continent, with a persistent slow-moving high pressure ridge situated over the southeast. Both took place as a tropical cyclone hit the northwest and both have active moist airstreams intensifying the ridge.

These cyclone-heatwave events are known as compound events, where several types of extreme weather overlap in time, space or both, and can act to intensify each other. In both 2009 and 2026, ongoing drought might have been yet another compounding factor.

In 2009, southern Australia was still in the grip of the 1996-2010 Millennium Drought, which made the heatwave worse. That’s because when soil is moist, extra heat evaporates moisture in the soil first, slowing heating of the air. But if heat hits dry soil, it quickly boosts air temperatures.

Swathes of southern Australia have had periods of drought for several years. This may have intensified the current heatwave.

What’s next?

Heatwaves are often well forecast using current weather prediction models.

At least a week before the heatwave began, forecasts clearly showed extreme, prolonged heat was likely. The main culprits were visible on the charts: Rossby waves, the warm conveyor belt, the tropical cyclone and the high pressure ridge.

As people in inland towns prepare for more days over 40°C, many will wonder what the future holds.

What we know is that a hotter climate will mean heatwaves hit more often, more intensely and last longer. It will also make extremely hot days more likely. But some of these processes – particularly around how moisture and tropical cyclones affect heatwaves – are less well understood and modelled in climate projections.

In extreme weather, the details are critical. As we grapple with unprecedented heat, there’s much work to do to increase our understanding of extreme heat in the 21st century.

Tess Parker previously received funding from the ARC Centre of Excellence for Climate System Science, the National Environmental Science Program and the ARC Centre of Excellence for Climate Extremes. She currently receives funding from the Australian Climate Service.

Michael Barnes receives funding from the ARC Centre of Excellence for 21st Century Weather.

Will killing dingoes on K’gari make visitors safer? We think it’s unlikely

2026-01-28T23:24:39Z

Line Knipst/Pexels, CC BY

After the tragic death of Canadian backpacker Piper James on K’gari (Fraser Island) on January 19, a coroner found the 19–year–old had been bitten by dingoes while she was still alive, but the most likely cause of death was drowning.

Days later, the Queensland government announced it would cull the entire pack of ten dingoes seen near where Piper’s body was found. Most of those animals have now been killed.

Authorities justified the targeted cull on “public safety” grounds, while also signalling a strong desire to keep tourism moving. Queensland Tourism Minister Andrew Powell reassured tourism operators “the island is open” and urged people to continue to visit.

The cull took place without the knowledge or approval of the Butchulla people, the Traditional Owners of K'Gari. James’ parents also publicly opposed a cull, saying it was “the last thing” their nature-loving daughter would have wanted. There has been backlash from scientific experts, as well as the public.

So, does killing dingoes actually make K’gari safer for people?

The perfect storm

K’gari’s dingoes (called Wongari by the Butchulla) are a population of high conservation and cultural value on this World Heritage–listed sand island. Estimates put their numbers at between 70 and 200.

Huge visitor numbers (about 450,000 per year) to the roughly 1,600 square kilometre island means dingoes and humans share the same beaches and come into contact in ways they generally don’t on the mainland. Most encounters are harmless, even enjoyable. Less than 1% of visitors experience a negative interaction and many tourists visit the island specifically to see the dingoes.

Of course, risk increases when dingoes and people are in close proximity. Dingoes are often deliberately or carelessly rewarded with food scraps or find rubbish, which encourages loitering.

Most injuries caused by dingoes are minor, such as nips, bites and scratches. Serious attacks by dingoes are rare on K'gari and the mainland. Children are most vulnerable given their smaller size.

The Queensland Parks and Wildlife Service has consistently worked to reduce incidents. Their “Be dingo safe” campaign includes education, signs, fenced areas and even “dingo sticks” to deter the animals from approaching. But too often these safety warnings are not heeded. People feed dingoes or leave food in their tents or bags, come too close to dingoes and let kids roam unsupervised.

For an apex predator, dingoes are relatively small and dog-like. To many visitors, they don’t look especially dangerous, and people forget dingoes are wild predators.

A “dingo-safe” storage cage for visitors to secure food and belongings on K’gari. Bradley Smith, CC BY-ND

Decades of lethal control

Authorities have long relied on lethal control of dingoes on K'gari. Between 2001 and 2013, 110 dingoes were killed. In 2001, after the death of nine-year-old Clinton Gage, 28 were immediately killed. In a typical year, one to two are killed.

Removing up to ten dingoes carries serious costs for a small island population. Genetically, the K’gari population has low diversity and an effective population size of about 25 (meaning only about 25 animals are effectively passing genes on, even though more dingoes exist). Studies have found inbreeding, genetic isolation and declining genetic variation in K'gari dingoes over the past two decades.

High levels of inbreeding may lead to physical deformities, reduced breeding success and an increased risk of local extinction. On an island, there is limited scope for “new” dingoes and their genes to arrive, so every avoidable death is important.

That is why our 2025 population viability analysis was sobering. We found if the number of dingo deaths stays close to natural levels, the population could remain stable. But extra deaths due to mass culls or disease outbreaks expose the animals to higher extinction risk. This makes it more likely the island’s dingoes could die out. In the highest-risk scenarios we modelled (that includes several mass culling events), the risk of extinction becomes substantial in about 50 years. Survival can fall close to zero by 100 years.

A dingo becomes a photo opportunity for tourists on K’gari’s shoreline. Bradley Smith, CC BY

Culling rarely solves safety problems

Records of dingo incidents on K'gari offer little evidence killing dingoes delivers lasting safety. Our analysis of the “highest severity” incidents reported found the island had an average of 10.7 reports a year from 2001 to 2015. There was no clear downward trend in incidents, even though more than 110 dingoes were destroyed in that period.

What we did find was a predictable seasonal pattern. About 40% of serious incidents took place during breeding season (March to May) and 30% during whelping (June to August). These are periods when dingoes are more active and social dynamics intensify. During breeding, dingoes (especially younger males) may range more widely and test boundaries. During whelping, adults can become more vigilant and take greater foraging risks to meet the demands of pups.

The chance of serious incidents rose and fell with dingo life history and behaviour, as well as what people did around them. Incidents are not explained by visitor numbers alone.

When a dingo approaches people or loiters near them, they can be labelled as “problematic” and are more likely to be culled. But these behaviours aren’t abnormal in a wildlife tourism setting. They are predictable responses to people, food and opportunity. Younger males are often the most persistent around people, but become less exploratory as they mature or disperse.

A dingo rests beside rubbish bins on K’gari. These bins have now been fenced. Bradley Smith, CC BY-ND

A people problem, not a dingo problem

K’gari’s dingoes are doing what wild predators do, just as sharks and crocodiles do in Australia’s oceans and rivers.

Our safety depends on how we behave in wild places. To reduce risky encounters with wildlife, secure your food and waste, keep your kids close, don’t venture out alone, respect park guidelines and stop giving rewards such as food.

Killing dingoes won’t make K'gari safer. Changing human behaviour and attitudes will.

Bradley Smith is an unpaid director of the Australian Dingo Foundation, a non-profit environmental charity that advocates for dingo conservation. He is also a member of the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) dingo working group.

Kylie M. Cairns receives scientific research funding from the Australian Dingo Foundation, the Australia and Pacific Science Foundation, the NSW and ACT state governments and donations from the general public. She is an unpaid director of the Paddy Pallin Foundation and provides scientific advice to the Australian Dingo Foundation and the New Guinea Highland Wild Dog Foundation. She serves as co-coordinator of the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) dingo working group.

Fossil fuels are doomed – and Trump can’t save them

2026-01-28T19:08:40Z

The past three years have been the world’s hottest on record. In 2025, Earth was 1.44°C warmer than the long-term average, perilously close to breaching the Paris Agreement goal of 1.5°C.

This warming is fuelling Australia’s current record-breaking heatwave. Other consequences are visible globally, from Iran’s crippling drought to catastrophic wildfires and unprecedented floods in the United States to deadly cyclones hitting southern Asia.

We know what to do to tackle the climate crisis: replace fossil fuels with clean energy technologies such as solar, wind, electric vehicles and batteries. We are well on our way. Globally, the power produced by renewables overtook coal last year.

Petrostates such as Saudi Arabia and the US have made trillions from oil and gas. Now they are fighting a rearguard action to prolong fossil fuels. The US is pushing European nations to buy its gas, for instance.

But most countries have seen the writing on the wall. In November, the COP31 climate talks in Turkey are expected to deliver a global roadmap away from fossil fuels. Dozens of countries will meet in Colombia in April to fast-track the transition. The road ahead is bumpy. But the end of fossil fuels may finally be coming into view.

No holding back clean energy

There’s no one trying harder to slow the clean energy transition than US president Donald Trump. During his bid to return to the White House, Trump pressed oil executives for US$1 billion (A$1.4 bn) in campaign finance, promising a windfall in return.

In 2025, he increased subsidies for fossil fuel producers, weakened environmental laws, gutted Biden-era support for clean energy and moved to block clean energy projects, even some near completion. The US is now one of the world’s biggest exporters of liquefied natural gas (LNG) and oil.

But clean energy growth has proved difficult to kill. Despite Trump’s efforts, domestic solar generation is still expected to grow 46% in the next two years while electricity output from fossil fuel plants falls.

Trump is betting fossil fuels are the key to future American power. He made no secret of the fact the US military raid on Venezuela earlier this month was aimed at increasing oil production. He has implored US oil companies to invest billions to revive the country’s battered oil infrastructure. The response was lukewarm. ExxonMobil CEO Darren Woods said Venezuela was “uninvestable”.

Developing Venezuela’s oil reserves assumes there will be demand for decades to come. But the world now faces an oversupply of oil, even as sales of electric vehicles grow strongly in many countries. Last month, battery electric vehicles outsold petrol cars for the first time in Europe.

Electrostates rising

While the US doubles down on 20th century fossil fuels, China is betting on an electric 21st century. It is emerging as the first electrostate, dominating production and export of solar, wind, batteries and EVs. China is now the world’s biggest car exporter. Most new Chinese cars are powered by batteries, not oil.

China’s manufacturing might has driven down the price of batteries, the main cost of EVs. As EVs get cheaper, emerging economies are finding they can leapfrog fossil fuels and move straight to solar panels and EVs – even if the national power grid is limited or unreliable.

Commodity price trends show surging global demand for copper, silver and other metals needed for mass electrification. Worldwide, investment in clean energy technologies first overtook fossil fuel investment ten years ago. In 2025, clean investment was more than double the investment in coal, oil and gas. Clean energy is where the world is headed, whether Trump likes it or not.

China, India and Pakistan are rapidly making the shift to renewable power. Developing nations from Nepal to Ethiopia are taking up electric transport to slash the cost of importing fossil fuels.

China dominates production of clean energy technologies such as solar, wind, batteries and EVs. CFOTO/Future Publishing via Getty Images

A new roadmap away from fossil fuels

This week, the US formally withdrew from the Paris Agreement. But no other country has followed.

For decades, the COP talks have focused on “cutting emissions” without dealing directly with the use of coal, oil and gas. But at the 2023 talks, nearly 200 countries agreed to “transition away from fossil fuels”.

At last year’s COP30 talks, host nation Brazil proposed a roadmap to phase out fossil fuels. More than 80 countries backed the idea, including Australia, but pushback from Saudi Arabia and Russia kept it out of the final outcomes.

In response, Brazil is working to develop a roadmap for phasing out fossil fuels. This – or something similar – may be formally adopted at the next climate talks in November.

While COP31 will be held in Turkey, Australian climate minister Chris Bowen will have a key role as “President of Negotiations” and will steer global discussion ahead of the summit.

Bowen plans to lobby petrostates to support a managed shift away from fossil fuels, drawing on Australia’s experience as a major exporter of coal and LNG facing its own transition. Korea – Australia’s third largest market for thermal coal – will retire its entire coal fleet by 2040.

Government modelling suggests Australia’s coal and gas exports could plummet 50% in value in five years as global demand falls. Independent modelling suggests the decline for coal could happen even faster if countries meet their climate targets. Policymakers must plan to manage this transition.

Coalitions of the willing?

Frustrated by slow progress, a coalition of nations is separately discussing how to phase out fossil fuels. The first conference will take place in April in Colombia. Here, delegates will discuss how to wind down fossil fuels while protecting workers and financial systems. Some nations want to negotiate a standalone treaty to manage the phase-out. Conference outcomes will also feed back into the UN climate talks.

Pacific island nations aim to be the world’s first 100% renewable region. Ahead of COP31, Australia and island nations will meet to progress this.

Progress is happening

In an ideal world, nations would rapidly tackle the existential threat of climate change together. We don’t live in that world. But it may not matter.

The shift to clean electric options has its own momentum. The question is whether the shift away from coal, oil and gas will be orderly – or chaotic.

Wesley Morgan is a fellow of the Climate Council of Australia

Do trees prevent landslides? What science says about roots, rainfall and stability

2026-01-28T02:53:31Z

DJ Mills/Getty Images

In the days since last week’s fatal landslides at Mount Maunganui, there has been widespread discussion about what may have caused the slopes above the campground to fail, including the possible role of recent tree removal on Mauao.

In the aftermath of such tragedy, it is natural to search for clear explanations. But landslides typically reflect a complex combination of factors – from geology and long-term slope evolution to weather, climate and land use.

A landscape prone to failure

The Tauranga region is underlain by volcanic materials that are well known for their instability. Over time, volcanic rock weathers into clay-rich soils, including a problematic mineral known as halloysite.

During heavy rainfall, water infiltrates these clay-rich soils, increasing porewater pressure between soil particles. This reduces the soil’s shear strength, making slopes more prone to failure.

Similar processes have driven devastating landslides elsewhere: dozens of people were killed in rainfall-triggered landslides in Indonesia’s West Java region just days ago, on comparable volcanic clay soils.

Recognising this risk, Tauranga City Council commissioned landslide susceptibility mapping following the extreme weather events of 2023. These datasets allow the public to view landslide-prone areas and “relic slips” – ancient landslides that still leave visible imprints on the landscape.

Importantly, they indicate where land has failed in the past – and remains potentially vulnerable during intense rainfall or after land-use changes.

While most of the Tauranga district is comprehensively covered by these mapping tools, there is one notable omission: the area west of Adam’s Avenue, where Mauao and the campground are located. Landslide hazard layers for this zone are absent from public web portals, despite Mauao being particularly landslide-prone.

Historical aerial imagery dating back to 1943 reveals dozens of landslides on Mauao’s slopes. Some of the most significant occurred during Cyclone Wilma in January 2011, when 108mm of rain fell in 24 hours.

A detailed University of Auckland study identified at least 80 landslides from that single storm, including debris avalanches extending up to 120 metres downslope. Some of these failures have partially reactivated since, following later heavy rainfall.

A March 2011 aerial image of Mauao (Mount Maunganui), with some of the larger landslides triggered by heavy rain during Cyclone Wilma in January 2011 outlined in yellow. The white box marks the area in which last week’s landslide occurred. Author provided. CC BY-NC-ND

Trees, slopes and stability

In addition to these historic events, older “paleo-landslides” exist on Mauao, including two on slopes above the campground. It was from this general zone that the January 22 landslide appears to have initiated – and much online discussion has also centred on tree removal within it.

Some media reports have pointed to vegetation clearance during 2022–23, but historical imagery suggests removal in this specific area likely occurred earlier, around 2018–19. More broadly, vegetation cover above the campground has declined gradually since the mid-20th century.

A series of aerial images from 1943 to 2025 show changes in vegetation and landform on the slopes above the campground. White boxes mark key areas, and arrows show the approximate location of the January 2026 landslide. Author provided. CC BY-NC-ND

However, the relationship between vegetation and landsliding on Mauao is not straightforward. During Cyclone Wilma, major landslides occurred across both densely vegetated slopes and grass-covered areas.

Trees typically enhance slope stability in two main ways: their canopy intercepts rainfall, slowing water infiltration, and their roots reinforce soil strength. This is why widespread landsliding associated with forestry harvesting – particularly radiata pine – has long been a serious problem in parts of New Zealand.

But trees can also contribute to slope failure under certain conditions. Large leafy trees can act like sails during extreme winds, transmitting powerful forces into saturated soils.

After the 2023 Auckland Anniversary storm, research showed wind loading likely initiated some landslides on the slopes of Maungakiekie/One Tree Hill, as trees were rocked back and forth until they uprooted, dragging soil downslope.

As well, when trees grow near the tops of steep slopes, their weight – known as “surcharge” – can increase destabilising forces. In some clay soils, this effect may exceed the stabilising benefit of root reinforcement. Tree roots can also promote long-term weathering by growing into fractures in underlying rock.

All of this means vegetation is only one factor among many.

Why simple explanations fall short

Landslides in New Zealand’s hilly terrain typically result from a combination of preconditioning factors, many of which are influenced by human activity.

These can include reshaping slopes to create building platforms, cutting into slope toes for roads or structures, loading slopes with buildings, redirecting stormwater onto vulnerable terrain, and constructing poorly designed retaining walls that trap water within slopes.

While some trees were certainly removed from the broader source area of last week’s landslide, their role in destabilising the slope remains uncertain.

The slope had already experienced multiple historical failures, was underlain by volcanic clays and was subjected to intense rainfall – conditions that together are well known to trigger landsliding.

There is still much we do not yet know about the precise mechanisms that caused last week’s failures on Mauao. That is precisely why independent investigations and technical reviews are so important.

Martin Brook receives funding from the Natural Hazards Commission.

NZ’s sodden January explained: what’s driven this month’s big wet?

2026-01-27T17:35:57Z

Smith Collection/Gado/Getty Images

It has been a month of umbrellas rather than sunscreen across much of New Zealand, with persistent rain, low sunshine and deadly storms dominating headlines and daily life.

For many people, it has felt like midsummer never really arrived. Is it simply bad luck, or is there something more going on?

As with most aspects of our climate and weather, the answer isn’t straightforward. It reflects the interplay between New Zealand’s geography, warmer-than-average ocean temperatures, large-scale regional climate patterns and long-term global warming.

What the data shows – and why it’s been so wet

Climate observations back up what many New Zealanders have been feeling this month. Across northern regions in particular, sunshine hours have been well below average, while rainfall totals have been far above normal.

In central Auckland, a weather station in Albert Park had recorded around 244mm by January 27 – nearly three times the (1981–2010) average for the month. At Mount Maunganui, the month-to-date total had climbed to roughly 385mm, more than four times the norm.

The left map shows the 1991–2020 average for January rainfall across New Zealand. The right shows how much wetter than normal conditions have been this month, particularly across the upper North Island. Earth Sciences New Zealand, CC BY-NC-ND

Similar patterns have been seen in many parts of the upper North Island, with repeated heavy rain events, high humidity and prolonged cloudy spells. The result has often been soggy soils, swollen rivers and increased risks of flooding and landslides.

While each storm that affects New Zealand is different, many of the systems visiting the country this summer share some common features. Several have originated in the tropics, subtropics or the north Tasman Sea before drifting south toward New Zealand. These systems typically carry warm, moisture-laden air – and the potential for intense rainfall.

When these moist air masses interact with cooler air from the south, or encounter New Zealand’s rugged topography, conditions become ripe for heavy rain.

As air is forced upwards over hills and mountain ranges – particularly along the Coromandel Peninsula, Bay of Plenty, East Cape and Gisborne regions – moisture condenses rapidly, producing very high rainfall totals. This is why northern and eastern parts of the country so often bear the brunt of these subtropical events.

The regional patterns loading the dice

One background factor this summer has been the lingering influence of La Niña, part of the El Niño–Southern Oscillation (ENSO) system that dominates climate variability across the Pacific.

During La Niña, atmospheric pressure tends to be lower than normal over Australia and the north Tasman Sea, and higher than normal to the south and east of New Zealand. This effectively flips our usual weather pattern on its head, reducing westerly winds and increasing the frequency of easterly and northeasterly flows.

Those northeasterly winds draw warm, humid air from the subtropics toward New Zealand. Because our temperatures are highly sensitive to wind direction, even small shifts can have large effects.

La Niña also tends to be associated with warmer-than-average sea surface temperatures, which have again been observed around New Zealand. So, when northeasterly winds blow across these warmer waters, they pick up additional heat and moisture, further fuelling heavy rainfall potential.

Another background driver that constantly shapes New Zealand’s weather and climate is the Southern Annular Mode (SAM), which describes the north–south movement of the westerly wind belt that circles Antarctica.

A positive SAM phase, which has dominated much of this summer, tends to bring higher pressures over the South Island and southern New Zealand. This allows storms from the subtropics more room to drift south and linger near the North Island.

Climate change as an intensifier

Overlaying these regional drivers is the broader influence of climate change, which is steadily warming both the atmosphere and the oceans surrounding New Zealand.

As the planet heats, the atmosphere can hold more moisture – about 7% more water vapour for every 1°C of warming. This means that when storms do develop, they have more fuel available, increasing the potential for heavier rainfall and stronger winds.

Climate change does not cause individual weather systems, nor does it directly control large-scale climate patterns like ENSO or the SAM. But it acts as a powerful intensifier.

Event-attribution studies in New Zealand to date have shown climate change can increase the total rainfall from intense storms by around 10–20%.

But for the most intense downpours – when the atmospheric “sponge” is wrung out most vigorously – rainfall intensities can increase by as much as 30%, depending on the frame of time being looked at. These short, extreme bursts of rain are often what cause the greatest damage.

There are still important uncertainties. Scientists are actively researching whether climate change will alter the frequency or strength of La Niña and El Niño events, but so far there is no clear answer. The same is true for long-term trends in the Southern Annular Mode.

What we can say with confidence is that background warming is shifting the risk profile.

As global temperatures continue to rise, the kinds of extremes we’ve experienced this season are likely to become more common. The biggest unanswered question is how quickly we can reduce greenhouse gas emissions to limit how severe these impacts ultimately become.

James Renwick receives funding from MBIE and the Marsden Fund for climate research.

Where did southern Australia’s record-breaking heatwave come from?

2026-01-27T04:58:12Z

Kevin Chen/Pexels, CC BY-NC-ND

Millions of people in southeastern Australia are sweating through a record-breaking heatwave. The heat this week is likely to be one for the history books. The heat began on Saturday January 24th. On Australia Day, three sites in South Australia and two in New South Wales broke their all-time temperature records. Ceduna reached a whopping 49.5°C in the shade – just 1.2°C off the highest temperature ever recorded in Australia.

Today, temperatures have topped 49°C in northwest Victoria and South Australia for the first time on record, and many towns face days of heat over 40°C. Regions such as the Otway Ranges in Victoria are facing extreme fire danger. Renmark in South Australia has reached 49.3°C and Walpeup in Victoria has reached 48.7°C.

This is shaping up as the worst heatwave since the Black Summer of 2019-20. The intense heat that summer contributed to catastrophic bushfires which burnt 21% of the continent’s forests, an area still considered globally unprecedented.

Independent analysis found the last heatwave between January 5 to 10 was made over five times more likely by global heating. This current heatwave is substantially worse, but we’ll have to wait for attribution studies to understand how much global heating has contributed to its overall severity.

The sustained heat hitting the southeast will be widespread and prolonged. It’s likely more all-time temperature records will be broken this week, as the body of hot air stagnates over the south and southeast. People in exposed areas should heed warnings from the Bureau of Meteorology and advice from health and emergency response authorities.

What’s driving this heatwave?

The Pilbara region in northwest Western Australia is sometimes called the nation’s “heat engine”. This large, sparsely populated area is very dry. When heat hits Pilbara rocks and sands, it can quickly build up. Weather conditions are very stable, and Pilbara heatwaves can last weeks.

But that doesn’t explain how the heat gets to population centres in Australia’s south and southeast.

Over summer, there are often active monsoonal troughs (areas of low atmospheric pressure) over northern Australia. As the monsoon brings heavy rain and low pressure systems to parts of northern Australia, it pushes high pressure systems, known as heat domes, further south. This directs intense heat thousands of kilometres towards the southern, central and eastern parts of the continent.

Tropical monsoonal low-pressure systems in the north often work in tandem with slow-moving high pressure systems in the Tasman Sea or Great Australian Bight. The result is a weather pattern able to shift hot air masses thousands of kilometres to reach the southern states.

Predicted temperature around 5pm at 2m above sea level from January 27 to January 31, 2026. NOAA Visualisation Lab

Blocking highs are strong high pressure systems which can sit in place for days or even weeks, blocking other weather systems from moving in. The blocking high pressure system responsible for the current heatwave is staying put in the atmosphere a few kilometres above New South Wales.

As winds blow from areas of high pressure to low pressure in the atmosphere, air is forced to flow down towards the surface. As the air descends, it compresses due to rising atmospheric pressure. Compression heats the air further, which can make heatwaves hotter and longer-lasting.

When conditions like this are in place, hot northerly winds often persist for days, funnelling more and more desert heat towards the coasts. This can cause temperatures to exceed 40°C in states such as South Australia, Victoria, New South Wales and southern Queensland.

During this extreme heatwave, maximum temperatures in some southern towns are approaching 50°C – the sort of temperature once restricted to famously hot towns such as Marble Bar in Western Australia.

The official Australian record for the maximum temperature in the shade is 50.7°C, recorded at Oodnadatta (South Australia) in 1960 and Onslow (Western Australia) in 2022. This shared all-time record may be broken at several southeast inland locations this week as atmospheric conditions are amplified by the steady drumbeat of global heating.

During severe, prolonged heatwaves, intense daytime heat is accompanied by hot nights. The humidity can sometimes also increase due to tropical moisture being transported south. The combination of heat and humidity (measured as heat indices) is particularly dangerous to humans, livestock and wildlife.

Should this heatwave be named?

For decades, tropical cyclones hitting Australia have been given names. Should heatwaves similarly be given names to encourage people to take them seriously? Names can make weather hazards more memorable, helping people recall warnings, share information with neighbours and prepare more effectively.

This week’s heatwave would be an excellent candidate for naming. It is severe, breaking all-time records, long-lasting and widespread. It is also threatening major metropolitan centres with high populations, as well as major regional centres and nationally important agricultural districts. To date, there’s no sign authorities plan to name it.

Responding to future heatwaves

Climate scientists now widely agree average global temperatures will permanently rise 1.5°C over pre-industrial levels by the early 2030s. They may reach 2.7°C by the 2090s if global carbon emissions do not fall sharply.

This means future heatwaves are likely to strike more often and hit harder when they arrive.

We need to adapt to the increasing threats posed by more and worse heatwaves even as we work to cut emissions. Extreme heat is a public health issue, to say nothing of the threats it poses to our wildlife and livestock who have no escape.

Correction: this article originally stated 21% of Australia burned over the Black Summer. It has been corrected as it was 21% of forested areas.

Steve Turton has previously received funding from the Australian and Queensland governments.

Human composting, natural burials, water cremation: greener ways to go when you die

2026-01-25T18:42:53Z

Photo by DEAD GOOD LEGACIES/Sarah Johnson Photography on Unsplash

All of us, sooner or later, will need to make a decision about the final resting place for ourselves or a loved one.

But the usual options offered by most funeral homes – burial or cremation – come with some pretty major environmental problems. Both involve huge amounts of energy, resources and pollution.

Some religions have clear rules around how a body should be laid to rest, but if you’ve got a broader set of options – and you can afford it – what are the alternatives to mainstream burial and cremation methods?

The burial problem

Burial is increasingly out of reach for many. It’s expensive and cemeteries are running out of space, particularly in urban areas.

While many cemeteries in Australia now have limited tenure on burial plots (25 years in most places, renewable up to 99 years), space is still at a premium.

Even if you can secure a spot in a cemetery, it’s worth noting it takes a vast amount of resources to create and transport a wooden coffin.

All that felling of trees, refining the wood, shaping it into a coffin, transporting the materials and final product – it adds up to a lot of greenhouse gases. And then there’s the additional resources used for memorials such as a headstone.

And, while embalming is not common in Australia, preserving bodies this way uses chemicals such as formaldehyde, which can contaminate the soil and groundwater. It also poses health risks to funeral workers.

What about more natural options?

Natural burial methods are a more environmentally friendly alternative.

Also referred to as green burials, this is where bodies are buried in shallow graves in biodegradable material, such as a shroud or cardboard coffin.

Again, however, physical space remains a challenge. There’s just not that many green burial sites in Australia, and securing a spot can be costly and difficult. It might also be very far from where you or your surviving family members live.

Another option known as “human composting” takes green burials a step further. That’s where human remains are transformed into nutrient-rich soil with the aid of organic matter. However, this method is currently not legal in Australia, despite the efforts of advocates.

What’s the issue with mainstream cremation techniques?

Cremation, chosen for around 70% of body disposals in Australia, is not particularly environmentally friendly.

Each cremation releases toxins such as mercury into the atmosphere, as well as a significant amount of of CO₂.

How much? Well, estimates vary but one 2021 report noted that the “total greenhouse impact, taking into account electricity, transport and resources inputs as well as natural gas, of a single cremation is around 430kg of CO₂ equivalent.”

Each standard burial as practiced in Australia, the same report noted, is responsible for the emission of 780kg of CO₂ equivalent.

Water cremation: greener but pricier

Water cremation, also known as alkaline hydrolysis, can reduce some of the environmental impacts of traditional flame cremation.

Water cremation produces far fewer emissions compared to flame cremation. It avoids the release of toxic fumes from burning things like mercury from dental fillings.

The process uses water and alkaline chemicals, which are heated and circulated in a stainless steel vessel to speed up decomposition.

The result is bone ash and a sterile liquid byproduct. The ash can be kept, buried or scattered in the same way as ashes from a flame cremation. The liquid can be recycled.

Currently water cremation is relatively expensive in Australia, costing around A$6,000 compared to around $1,000 for a flame cremation. However, it may become more affordable over time if the practice becomes more popular.

And while it is legal in most of Australia, availability is restricted as there are only a few operators nationwide.

What about donating my body to science?

Donating your body to science might appeal to some as a form of “recycling”.

However, university and hospital-based programs generally cremate remains after they finish using your body or tissues for research and education, unless the body has been embalmed. If it has been embalmed or the family has specific requests, the body will be given a simple burial subject to certain conditions.

Private body donation operators merely harvest usable tissue immediately after death, leaving the family to dispose of the body via whatever method they would have done anyway.

In the end

A key issue across all options is that many people want a spot they can go to pay respect and remember loved ones – a sense of place.

While cremated remains can be placed in a niche in a cemetery with a memorial plaque, more often they are scattered in a meaningful place.

However, with cemeteries now leaning toward limited tenure for funeral plots, any enduring sense of place might also be lost even if you choose to be buried.

Finally, we all need to make sure we are all having conversations about our final wishes so loved ones have the best opportunity to carry them out.

In the end, the executor of the estate has the ultimate say over what happens to the body, so choose your executor carefully. Most people entrusted to this role tend to carry out the wishes of the deceased, if they are clearly articulated and affordable.

Sandra van der Laan has received funding from CPA Australia.

Lee Moerman has received funding from CPA Australia. She is a volunteer with Tender Funerals, a community-based, not-for-profit funeral home. Tender Funerals offers wooden, woven and cardboard caskets.

The Mount Maunganui tragedy reminds us landslides are NZ’s deadliest natural hazard

2026-01-23T06:18:08Z

Getty Images

The tragic events in the Bay of Plenty this week are a stark reminder that landslides remain the deadliest of the many natural hazards New Zealand faces.

On Thursday morning, a large landslide swept through the Mount Maunganui Beachside Holiday Park at the base of Mauao, triggering a major rescue and recovery operation that will continue through the weekend.

Hours earlier, two people were killed when a separate landslide struck a home in the Tauranga suburb of Welcome Bay. As of Friday evening, six people remain missing at Mount Maunganui.

These events occurred at the tail end of a weak La Niña cycle, which typically brings wetter conditions to northern New Zealand. At the same time, unusually warm sea-surface temperatures have been loading the atmosphere with extra moisture, helping to fuel heavier downpours.

In parts of northern New Zealand, more than 200 millimetres of rain fell within 24 hours in the lead-up to last week’s events – well above the typical thresholds known to trigger landslides.

Regions such as the Bay of Plenty, Coromandel, Northland and Tairāwhiti are especially vulnerable to intense rainfall, which weakens surface soils and the highly weathered rock beneath them, allowing shallow landslides to detach and flow downslope.

Most landslides in New Zealand are triggered by heavy rainfall, through a complex interplay of intrinsic factors – such as slope angle, soil and rock strength, and vegetation cover – and extrinsic factors, including rainfall intensity and how wet the ground already is from prior rainfall when a storm arrives.

Much of this risk is invisible, accumulating quietly beneath the surface until a sudden collapse occurs.

This helps explain why landslides have long proved so dangerous. Since written records began in 1843, they have been responsible for more deaths than earthquakes and volcanic eruptions combined.

Much of New Zealand’s steep, geologically young landscape is pockmarked by the evidence of millions of past landslides, most occurring on pasture and remote areas, far from people.

When landscapes tell a story

At Mount Maunganui, the shape of the land itself tells a story. The surrounding hill slopes are riddled with the scars of past landslides, revealing a landscape that has been repeatedly reshaped by slope failure over time.

New high-resolution mapping now allows scientists to see this in unprecedented detail. A 2024 LiDAR-derived digital elevation model, which effectively strips away vegetation to reveal the bare land surface, shows numerous landslide features across the slopes.

Many cluster along the coastal cliffs, but two particularly large ancient landslides can be seen directly above the holiday park.

A high-resolution elevation map of Mauao and surrounding land at Mount Maunganui, drawn from Land Information New Zealand data, showing landslide features. Two ancient landslides, or paleolandslides, above the campground site are labelled L1 and L2. Author provided, CC BY-NC-ND

These older slips left behind prominent head scarps – steep, crescent-shaped breaks in the hillside – indicating where large volumes of material once detached and flowed downslope onto flatter ground below.

Subsurface evidence reinforces this picture. A geotechnical investigation carried out in 2000, near the northern end of the campground’s toilet block, found a 0.7 metre layer of colluvium – loose debris deposited by earlier landslides and erosion – buried beneath the surface.

In other words, the site itself sits atop the remnants of past slope failures.

This image provides two views of the slopes above the campground at Mauao (Mount Maunganui). On the left (A) is a 2023 aerial photo showing the steep hillside and the location of earlier ground testing. On the right (B) is a detailed elevation map revealing two ancient landslides (L1 and L2) hidden in the landscape. The star marks the approximate starting point of the January 22 landslide. Author provided, CC BY-NC-ND

The January 22 landslide appears to have initiated in the narrow zone between the two earlier slips. This is a particularly vulnerable position: when neighbouring landslides occur, the remaining wedge of land between them can lose lateral support, becoming unstable, like a rocky headland jutting out from a cliff face.

Over long timescales, this kind of progressive slope collapse is a normal part of landscape evolution. But when it unfolds in populated areas, it can turn an ancient geological process into a human disaster.

From prediction to prevention

Predicting how far a landslide will travel, and which areas it might inundate, is critically important – but it remains an inexact science.

At its simplest, this can involve rough rules of thumb that estimate how far a landslide is likely to run based on slope height and angle. More sophisticated approaches use advanced computer models, such as Rapid Mass Movement Simulation (RAMMS) which simulate how landslide material might flow across the landscape.

These models were used, for example, to assess landslide risk at Muriwai, Auckland, following Cyclone Gabrielle.

By adjusting inputs such as rainfall intensity and soil properties, scientists can explore a range of possible scenarios, generating estimates of how far future landslides could travel, how deep the debris might be, and which properties could be affected.

The results can then be translated into landslide hazard maps, showing areas of higher and lower risk under different rainfall conditions. These maps are not predictions of exactly what will happen, but they provide crucial guidance for land-use planning, emergency management and public awareness.

New Zealand has made major progress in mapping floodplains, and most councils now provide publicly accessible flood hazard maps that influence building rules and help communities understand their exposure.

In the future, developing similarly detailed and widely available maps for landslide hazards would be a logical – potentially life-saving – next step.

Martin Brook receives funding from the Natural Hazards Commission Toka Tu Ake.

Beneath Antarctica’s largest ice shelf, a hidden ocean is revealing its secrets

2026-01-21T22:13:59Z

Stevens/NIWA/K061, CC BY-NC-ND

Beneath Antarctica’s Ross Ice Shelf lies one of the least measured oceans on Earth – a vast, dark cavity roughly twice the volume of the North Sea.

This hidden ocean matters because it is the ice sheet’s Achilles heel. The ice sheet is the continent’s enormous, kilometres-thick mass of land-based ice, while the ice shelf is the floating platform that fringes it.

If warmer water reaches the underside of the shelf, it can melt the ice that holds back millions of cubic kilometres of Antarctic ice, with consequences for global sea levels.

Yet almost everything we know about this cavity has come from brief snapshots at its edges. Until now, no one had captured a long, continuous record from its central heart. Our newly published study set out to change that.

Inside Antarctica’s least-measured ocean

Ice shelves act as buttresses for Antarctica’s 30 million cubic kilometres of ice, built up over millions of years. The Ross Ice Shelf is the largest, among the coldest and most southerly, and perhaps the most sheltered from a warming ocean.

It spans both West and East Antarctica, where dozens of giant glaciers merge to form a wedge of ice 300 to 700 metres thick that flows northward, melting from below and calving the world’s largest icebergs.

Flying out over the Ross Ice Shelf with the Trans Antarctic Mountains in the distance. Stevens/NIWA/K061, CC BY-NC-ND

When studying the ocean, snapshots are useful, but long time series are far more powerful. They reveal the rhythms of currents, eddies, tides and mixing, and how these interact with a warming climate. Beneath Antarctic ice shelves, where measurements are vanishingly rare, developing such records is essential.

Our study describes a four-year record of ocean processes beneath the middle of the Ross Ice Shelf, where the ice is 320 metres thick and the ocean below it 420 metres deep.

Most expeditions focus on the edges of ice shelves. We needed to understand what happens at their centre: so that is where we went.

Instruments being deployed through the ice shelf borehole – Mike Brewer is monitoring the lowering rate. Stevens/NIWA/K061, CC BY-NC-ND

The work was part of a large, multi-year project that began in 2016 with exploratory missions and ice-drilling trials and ended in 2022 when we finally lost contact with instruments suspended from the underside of the ice.

Once the drilling team reached the ocean – despite bad weather and the technical challenges of working in such a remote, extreme environment – we were able to deploy our instruments. These precision devices reported temperature, currents and salinity via satellite. We expected them to last two years before succumbing to cold or transmission failure. Instead, most continued to operate for more than four years, producing a uniquely long and remote record.

Looking downward in the borehole just before emerging into the ocean cavity. The white specks are sediment particles. Stevens/NIWA/K061, CC BY-NC-ND

The new analysis shows that water properties vary systematically through the year, far from the open ocean and its seasons. The changes in temperature and salinity are subtle, but in a cavity shielded from winds and cold air even small shifts can have large implications.

Our work also reveals how variations in the central cavity align with changes in the Ross Sea Polynya – a wind-swept, ice-free area hundreds of kilometres away where high-salinity water forms. As Antarctic sea ice changes, this connection to the cavity will respond in ways we have not yet fully considered.

Perhaps most intriguingly, the data show persistent layering of water with different properties within the cavity. This unusual structure was detected in the very first measurements collected there in 1978 and remains today. While much remains to be learned, our results indicate the layers act as a barrier, isolating the ice shelf underside from deeper, warmer waters.

What melting ice brings home

Much recent cavity research has treated the ice shelf as a middleman, passing ocean warming through to the ice sheet. Work like ours is revealing a more complex set of relationships between the cavity and other polar systems.

One of those relationships is with sea ice. When sea ice forms around the edges of an ice shelf, some of the cold, salty water produced as a by-product flows into the cavity, moving along the seafloor to its deepest, coldest reaches. Paradoxically, this dense water can still melt the ice it encounters. We know very little about these currents.

Changes to the delicate heat balance in ice-shelf cavities are likely to accelerate sea-level rise. Coastal communities will need to adapt to that reality. What remains less understood are the other pathways through which Antarctic change will play out.

Instruments being lowered down the borehole. Stevens/NIWA/K061, CC BY-NC-ND

Impacts from ice sheets unfold over decades and centuries. On similar timescales, changes around Antarctica will alter ocean properties worldwide, reshaping marine ecosystems and challenging our dependence on them.

In the near term, we can expect shifts in southern weather systems and Southern Ocean ecosystems. Fisheries are closely linked to sea-ice cover, which in turn is tied to ocean temperatures and meltwater.

Weather and regional climate feel even closer to home. A glance at a weather map of the Southern Ocean shows the inherent wobble of systems circling the globe. These patterns influence conditions in New Zealand and southern Australia and they are already changing.

As ice shelves and sea ice continue to evolve, that change will intensify. Ice shelves may seem distant, but through their ties to the atmosphere and ocean we share a common future.

Craig Stevens receives funding from the NZ Ministry for Business, Innovation and Employment and its Strategic Science Investment Fund, and the Antarctica New Zealand Antarctic Science Platform. He is a Council member of the New Zealand Association of Scientists.

Christina Hulbe receives funding from the Ministry for Business, Innovation and Employment, the Antarctica New Zealand Antarctic Science Platform, and the Ōtākou Whakaihi Waka Foundation Trust. They are a member of the Board of the Waitaki Whitestone Unesco Global Geopark.

Yingpu Xiahou receives funding from the Ministry for Business, Innovation and Employment to support her PhD research. She is affiliated with NIWA, and is a postgraduate member of the Antarctic Science Platform team and a SCAR INSTANT team member.

NZ is again being soaked this summer – record ocean heat helps explain it

2026-01-21T18:18:23Z

Sanka Vidanagama/Getty Images

For many people this summer – especially those across Northland Auckland and Coromandel – showery days and bursts of heavy rain have become all too familiar.

This week, fresh downpours on already saturated ground have again triggered flood warnings and road closures across the upper North Island. These are individual weather events, but they are unfolding against unusually warm seas that load the atmosphere with extra moisture and energy.

Understanding ocean heat – and how it shapes rainfall, storms and marine heatwaves – is central to explaining what we experience on land.

Looking beyond the surface

For decades, scientists have recognised sea surface temperatures as a key influence on weather and climate. Warmer surfaces mean more evaporation, altered winds and shifting storm tracks.

But surface temperatures are only the skin of a deeper system. What ultimately governs how those sea surface temperatures persist and evolve is the ocean heat content stored through the upper layers of the ocean.

A clearer global picture of that deeper heat began to emerge in the early 2000s with the deployment of profiling floats measuring temperature and salinity down to 2,000 metres worldwide.

Those observations made it possible to extend ocean analyses back to 1958; before then, measurements were too sparse to provide a global view.

While sea surface temperatures remain vital for day-to-day weather, ocean heat content provides the foundation for understanding climate variability and change. It determines how long warm surface conditions last and how they interact with the atmosphere above.

Recent analysis by an international team, in which I was involved, show ocean heat content in 2025 reached record levels, rising about 23 zettajoules above that of 2024’s. That increase is equivalent to more than 200 times the world’s annual electricity use, or the energy to heat 28 billion Olympic pools from 20C to 100C.

Ocean heat content represents the vertically integrated heat of the oceans, and because other forms of ocean energy are small, it makes up the main energy reservoir of the sea.

The ocean’s huge heat capacity and mobility mean it has become the primary sink for excess heat from rising greenhouse gases. More than 90% of Earth’s energy imbalance now ends up in the ocean.

For that reason, ocean heat content is the single best indicator of global warming, closely followed by global sea-level rise.

This is not a passive process. Heat entering the ocean raises sea surface temperatures, which in turn influence exchanges of heat and moisture with the atmosphere and change weather systems. Because the ocean is stably stratified, mixing heat downward takes time.

Warming of the top 500 metres was evident globally in the late 1970s; heat in the 500–1,000 metre layer became clear in the early 1990s, the 1,000–1,500 metre layer in the late 1990s, and the 1,500–2,000 metre layer around 2004. Globally, it takes about 25 years for surface heat to penetrate to 2,000 metres.

Ocean heat content does not occur uniformly everywhere. Marine heatwaves develop, evolve and move around, contributing to impacts on local weather and marine ecosystems. Heat is moved via evaporation, condensation, rainfall and runoff.

As records are broken year after year, the need to observe and assess ocean heat content has become urgent.

What happens in the ocean, matters on land

It is not just record high OHC and rising sea level that matter, but the rapidly increasing extremes of weather and climate they bring.

Extra heat over land increases drying and the risk of drought and wildfires, while greater evaporation loads the atmosphere with more water vapour. That moisture is caught up in weather systems, leading to stronger storms – especially tropical cyclones and atmospheric rivers, such as one that has soaked New Zealand in recent days.

The same ocean warmth that fuels these storms also creates marine heatwaves at the surface.

In the ocean surrounding New Zealand and beyond, these marine heatwaves are typically influenced by the El Niño–Southern Oscillation. This Pacific climate cycle alternates between El Niño, La Niña and “neutral” phases, strongly shaping New Zealand’s winds, temperatures and rainfall from year to year.

During 2025, a weak La Niña, combined with record high sea surface temperatures around and east of New Zealand, has helped sustain the recent unsettled pattern. Such warm seas make atmospheric rivers and moisture-laden systems more likely to reach Aotearoa, as seen in early 2023 with the Auckland Anniversary Weekend floods and Cyclone Gabrielle.

For these reasons, continued observations – gathering, processing and quality control – are essential, tested against physical constraints of mass, energy, water and sea level.

Looking further ahead, the oceans matter not only for heat but also for water. Typically, about 40% of sea-level rise comes from the expansion of warming seawater; most of the rest is from melting glaciers and the Greenland and Antarctic ice sheets.

Sea levels are also influenced by where rain falls. During El Niño, more rain tends to fall over the Pacific Ocean, often accompanied by dry spells or drought on land. During La Niña, more rain falls on land – as seen across parts of Southeast Asia in 2025 – and water stored temporarily in lakes and soils can slightly reduce the amount returning to the ocean.

A striking example occurred in Australia in 2025, when heavy rains from May through to late in the year refilled Lake Eyre, transforming the desert saltpan into a vast inland sea. Such episodes temporarily take water out of the oceans and dampen sea-level rise.

Monitoring sea-level rise through satellite altimetry is therefore an essential complement to tracking ocean heat content. Tracking both heat and water is crucial to understanding variability and long-term trends.

Kevin Trenberth does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

New study sheds light on the threat of ‘marine darkwaves’ to ocean life

2026-01-20T23:52:32Z

Surfers caught in a marine darkwave. Jean Thoral, CC BY-NC-SA

Life in the ocean runs on light. It fuels photosynthesis, shapes food webs and determines where many marine species can live.

Gradually, that light is fading. Since the early 2000s, more than one-fifth of the global ocean has darkened as sediment, nutrients and organic matter increasingly cloud coastal waters – raising concern about the future of reefs, kelp forests and seagrass meadows.

Alarming as this picture is, focusing only on gradual darkening may miss the most ecologically damaging part of the story.

Our newly published study introduces the phenomenon of “marine darkwaves”: sudden, intense episodes of underwater darkness that can last from days to months and push marine ecosystems into acute stress.

Darkness events are often triggered by storms, floods, sediment plumes or algal blooms. As with marine heatwaves, these short, intense episodes can be just as ecologically disruptive as slow, long-term trends.

Unusual underwater darkness is harmful for a range of marine ecosystems, yet the phenomenon did not have a name and definition until the marine darkwave framework was developed. Artwork of a darkened algal forest by Cassandre Villautreix, underwater picture by Leigh Tait.

Why light matters underwater

When light within the ocean drops suddenly, even for a few days, marine ecosystems can suffer. Prolonged darkness can slow growth, reduce energy reserves and in severe cases lead to dieback or mortality.

Fish, sharks and marine mammals can also change their behaviour when visibility drops, altering feeding and movement patterns.

Until now, scientists have examined ways to track long-term coastal darkening but have lacked a consistent way to identify, measure and compare extreme short-term light-loss events across regions and depths.

In other words, we have known this phenomenon exists – but we haven’t had a shared language to define and describe it. With marine darkwaves, we now have an event-based framework for extreme underwater darkness.

Thoral et al. (2026), CC BY-NC-SA

Darkwaves occur when underwater light falls below a depth-specific threshold for a minimum duration, relative to what is normally expected at that location. This allows scientists to identify when conditions shift from merely dim to unusually dark.

Importantly, this framework works across different depths, where light conditions naturally vary; across local to regional scales, from coastal reefs to entire coastlines; and across multiple data sources, including light sensors and satellite observations.

Its consistency enables meaningful comparison of events that were previously difficult to place into broader contexts.

What our research revealed

Our study used long-term datasets from both hemispheres in markedly different coastal regions.

In California, 16 years of underwater light measurements revealed repeated darkwave events, some lasting several weeks. In Aotearoa New Zealand, ten years of monitoring data from Auckland’s Hauraki Gulf showed rapid drops in underwater light during storms, at depths of seven and 20 metres.

Satellite data extending back 21 years revealed a broader pattern. Along New Zealand’s East Cape coast, up to 80 marine darkwaves have occurred since 2002, most linked to storms and river-driven sediment plumes.

Cyclone Gabrielle in 2023 provided a stark example. The storm delivered vast amounts of sediment to coastal waters, smothering many reefs and creating prolonged underwater darkness over large areas.

In some places, the seabed received almost no light for several weeks.

Heavy sediment runoff around Waihau Bay, in New Zealand’s Eastern Bay of Plenty. This was observed following Cyclone Gabrielle on February 14, 2023 - an event that created marine darkwaves for several weeks, with continuing ecological impacts. Copernicus Sentinel data (2023), CC BY-NC-SA

Long-term averages are important, but they can smooth over the very events that cause the greatest ecological damage.

Just as a single marine heatwave can devastate kelp forests and coral reefs, a single marine darkwave can sharply reduce photosynthesis and disrupt ecosystems already stressed by warming, acidification and nutrient pollution.

Climate change is likely to increase the frequency and intensity of these events. Heavier rainfall, stronger storms and intensified land use all increase sediment and organic matter flowing into coastal waters, reducing water clarity and light availability.

Our framework allows identification of discrete periods when light thresholds critical for ecosystem function are crossed.

A new tool – and cause for hope

The marine darkwave framework complements existing tools used to track marine heatwaves, deoxygenation and ocean acidification.

By focusing on extremes, it provides clearer insights into acute stress on coastal ecosystems. In New Zealand particularly, this information is increasingly important for iwi (tribes) and hapū (sub-tribes), coastal communities, conservation groups and environmental managers making decisions about land use, restoration and marine protection.

Related monitoring work is already underway in parts of New Zealand, where expanded sensor networks aid in linking land-based processes to changes in underwater light, and linking these to ecological changes on coastal reefs.

Ultimately, marine darkwaves remind us that the ocean doesn’t always change slowly. Sometimes, it changes abruptly and quietly if we don’t pay attention.

There is also reason for cautious optimism. Many marine darkwaves are driven by land–sea connections, so their frequency and intensity are not inevitable.

Reducing sediment runoff through nature-based solutions, such as restoring wetlands, stabilising riverbanks, improving harvest techniques of exotic forests, and replanting native forests in vulnerable catchments can directly increase water clarity and underwater light.

Understanding marine darkwaves is not only about detecting change, but also about identifying practical pathways to protect coastal ecosystems before further darkness descends.

The authors acknowledge the contribution of Rahera Ohia, Ngāti Pūkenga, Jean Thoral, Leigh Tait and Cassandre Villautreix.

François Thoral receives funding from the NZ Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment MBIE (Endeavour Fund Tau Ki Ākau UOWX2206). He is affiliated with the University of Waikato, University of Canterbury and Earth Sciences New Zealand.

Christopher Battershill receives funding from the NZ Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment MBIE (Endeavour Fund Tau Ki Ākau UOWX2206 is relevant to this project). He is employed with the University of Waikato and also receives contestable grant funding from other agencies (eg Regional Councils and Department of Conservation).

David R Schiel receives funding from the New Zealand government public good research fund (via the Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment; Endeavour Fund Tau Ki Ākau UOWX2206).

Shinae Montie receives funding from The Australian Research Council and the Winifred Violet Scott Charitable Trust. She is associated with the University of Western Australia.

Bull sharks are spending longer in Sydney Harbour and other summer grounds. Here’s how you can stay safe

2026-01-20T05:24:34Z

Four people have now been bitten by sharks in the last two days in New South Wales, including three in Sydney Harbour. Two people are in critical condition.

The shark species responsible isn’t yet known. But some of these incidents likely involved the highly adaptable bull shark (Carcharhinus leucas). This unique fish species can tolerate a wide range of water salinity, from oceans to brackish estuaries, and even freshwater rivers.

Bull sharks have long been found in warmer Australian waters, ranging from south-west Western Australia, all the way around the Top End and down the east coast as far as the New South Wales-Victorian border.

The movements of bull sharks in Sydney Harbour have been studied for several years. Their presence is more likely when waters are warmer over summer. But they’re staying longer than before. Last year, researchers found that bull sharks were spending on average an extra day per year in their summer grounds (shallower coastal waters, estuaries and rivers) as ocean temperatures rise due to climate change.

Record heavy rains in Sydney flushed plenty of nutrient-rich water from farms and wastewater treatment plants into the river system, including the harbour. This nutrient runoff attracts more prey such as baitfish and larger fish, and in turn larger predators such as sharks. Stormwater also makes harbour waters murkier, which means that bull sharks rely more on hearing and electroreception than sight to locate food sources. This can lead to bites due to mistaken identity.

Although human activity (noise and movements) in the water can attract sharks, humans are not a food source for bull sharks. Almost all encounters and negative interactions from these sharks come from an exploratory bite. Unfortunately for those affected, the bites can be very serious.

What could be behind these incidents?

Bull sharks are unique among sharks in that they can tolerate fresh, brackish and salt water. Most other shark species don’t use estuaries or rivers as part of their home range or lifecycle. This ability to tolerate and adapt to different salinity levels is one reason bull sharks are found in both coastal waters and river systems around the world, including estuaries.

Once mature, female bull sharks will return to their home rivers to give birth to live young. Newborns are small adult replicas. As they grow, juvenile and sub-adult bull sharks travel down river systems and tend to live in the lower estuaries for the first five years of their life to avoid larger predators. During that time, they opportunistically feed on a range of prey to get bigger before moving into the open ocean.

Bull sharks are very opportunistic feeders. Scientists have found an astonishing variety of things in bull shark stomachs, such as wood, metal and other inorganic matter, though fish are their prey of choice.

Estuaries and harbours tend to have murkier water than the open ocean, as rivers often carry plenty of sediment and nutrients. This means bull sharks have to rely on senses other than sight, such as sound, which travels well underwater, smell, as well as their close-range ability to sense weak electrical fields caused by the movements of living creatures. Many shark bites are likely due to the habit bull sharks have of opportunistically biting in case it might be food.

Over the last week, pulses of stormwater have made Sydney Harbour murkier and more nutrient-rich, attracting baitfish and the predators who follow them.

Bull sharks, like other sharks, learn patterns quickly. Many species of shark have learned to associate the specific sound made by fishing boat engines with food. When fish are hooked or trapped in a net, sharks may be able to get a free feed. Dolphins do the same thing.

How can people stay safe?

Authorities have shut down at least 20 beaches in Sydney’s Northern Beaches for 48 hours.

This is a good move, as it will give the murkiness some time to clear. But it may take longer than this to fully clear.

As shark experts, we would recommend going further:

avoid swimming in murky water wherever possible
avoid swimming in Sydney Harbour after heavy rain
avoid surfing at nearshore beaches until the dirty water clears
avoid swimming where people are fishing, especially where fish cleaning occurs
avoid swimming where baitfish are common, including where other marine predators such as dolphins are hunting
monitor local council and state fisheries websites for updates on staying shark smart this summer.

It’s important not to overstate the risks. Almost all the negative interactions reported in the Australian database of shark incidents come from exploratory bites, or incidental bites of people fishing or even feeding sharks.

Queenslanders have had to adapt to the year-round presence of bull sharks in their rivers and coastal waters for many years. People don’t swim in bull shark hotspots such as the Gold Coast canals or the Brisbane River. Authorities recommend avoiding swimming and surfing up to a few days after heavy rain.

As the oceans warm, bull sharks are likely to spend more time in Sydney Harbour as well as other NSW estuaries. Sydneysiders and NSW residents may have to adapt to their extended presence.

Vic Camilieri-Asch receives funding from various state, national and international government organisations and foundations, consults for industry councils via a small consultancy (Shark Ethology Australia)

Bonnie Holmes receives funding from state and local government organisations and foundations

The yellow-legged hornet eradication is on track – but the next few months are crucial

2026-01-19T17:13:09Z

Jonathan Raa/Getty Images

New Zealand now has a genuine chance to stamp out one of the most damaging invasive insects to reach our shores: the Asian yellow-legged hornet.

But what happens over the next few months might just decide whether the species is eliminated or becomes established.

It has now been three months since the yellow-legged hornet was first detected in Auckland and the eradication response is showing real signs of progress.

So far, 43 queen hornets have been found and killed in Auckland. Each one represents a nest that would otherwise have produced thousands of voracious workers, capable of consuming huge numbers of insects, including key pollinators such as honey bees.

Worse still, by autumn those same nests would have produced thousands of new queens. That next generation would have dispersed widely, helping the hornet spread across much of New Zealand.

We only need to look to overseas experience to see what is at stake. In parts of Europe where the yellow-legged hornet has become established, losses of honey bee hives of 30% to 80% have been recorded. There have also been serious risks to people, with stings causing intense pain and swelling, and, in rare cases, severe allergic reactions that have proved fatal.

Encouragingly, the response led by the Ministry for Primary Industries appears to have been effective, with many nests located and destroyed.

And the contribution from the public has been extraordinary. Of the 43 nests discovered, 18 were from public notifications. More than 9,520 reports of suspected hornets have been submitted from across the country.

These reports have directly helped locate nests, which so far have all been found around Glenfield and Birkdale on Auckland’s North Shore.

This first phase of the eradication programme has achieved what we hoped. Early on, new nests were being discovered almost daily. The more that crews searched, the more they found.

Importantly, the response now appears to have reached a point where intensive searching no longer turns up new nests on a daily or weekly basis. That is encouraging, but it does not mean the job is done. For eradication to succeed, every last nest must be found and destroyed.

The next phase – and why it’s crucial

The next phase of the response, running through January and much of February, will mostly rely on trapping and tracking worker hornets.

Any surviving nests are likely to change behaviour. Queens and workers from early “primary nests” typically relocate higher into nearby trees, forming larger “secondary nests” that are hard to find.

These nests can contain many thousands of workers and hungry larvae that need constant feeding.

From now on, hornet workers from any remaining nests will become more abundant and more visible. This is when public vigilance matters most.

Hornets may be attracted to beer, gardens, fruit trees and beehives. Setting traps, photographing suspicious insects, and submitting reports to MPI’s hotline will help us to find those nests and might make the difference between eradication success and failure.

Once hornet workers are discovered, their nest can be tracked. The search crews now have the equipment to capture and tie small radio-trackers to foraging workers.

When the hornet flies back to its nest, it unknowingly leads search crews straight to it, enabling entire colonies to be destroyed.

Later in February, before new queens and males are produced in autumn, the programme will enter its final phase: baiting with Vespex.

Vespex is a protein bait developed in New Zealand for controlling invasive Vespula wasps. It won a World Wildlife Fund Conservation Innovation Award in 2015 for its effectiveness in killing invasive wasps and protecting native ecosystems.

Wasps and hornet workers are attracted to Vespex and carry the bait back to their nests, where it eliminates the colony. Importantly, previous work has shown Vespex to be safe for pollinators such as honey bees.

I see Vespex as a vital safety net. It can be deployed cheaply over the area of infestation, helping to eliminate any small or cryptic nests that might otherwise be missed.

For eradication to work, we must get every last nest.

Keeping the momentum going

Biosecurity Minister Andrew Hoggard has committed $12 million to support the hornet eradication response through to June 2026. This level of funding is fantastic and should provide much needed resources.

For eradication to succeed, continued community involvement will be essential. Public reporting of sightings, the use and monitoring of traps, and vigilance by beekeepers – particularly around hive entrances where hornets may be hawking bees – all remain vital to locating any remaining nests.

Public support to date has been outstanding and has played a substantial role in the discovery of nests. Peoples’ contribution remains essential and arguably more important now than at any earlier stage of the response.

Clear guidance on identifying yellow-legged hornets, making traps and submitting sightings is available through the Ministry for Primary Industries.

We have a major opportunity to eradicate this species from New Zealand in 2026. The next few months will determine whether that opportunity is realised.

Phil Lester serves on the Technical Advisory Group for the Ministry for Primary Industries' hornet response.

Citizen scientists are spotting more and more rare frogs on private land

2026-01-19T04:06:12Z

The green and golden bell frog (Litoria aurea) Jodi Rowley, CC BY-NC-ND

Almost two-thirds of Australia is privately owned. But most of our scientific understanding of how threatened species are faring comes from research done on public lands. Traditional biodiversity surveys by professional scientists are time and resource intensive and navigating access to private lands can be tricky.

This means there’s a huge gap in our knowledge amid worsening biodiversity loss. That’s where citizen science comes in. Every year, millions of Australian species records are logged by members of the public using smartphone apps. This flood of data is revolutionising conservation, producing large flows of species data and connecting people to nature.

But does this data better capture species on private land? To find out, our recent research examines almost half a million frog records logged on the Australian Museum’s national FrogID project by citizen scientists in New South Wales. Remarkably, 86% of these records come from private land.

Importantly, these records capture evidence of where threatened species are holding on in privately-held land. The beautiful green and golden bell frog (Litoria aurea) is considered vulnerable at a national level as it’s no longer found on about 90% of its former range. But almost three-quarters of all FrogID recordings of this frog in NSW are on private land.

Citizen scientists are using apps such as FrogID to record frog calls – and give vital data on where these species can be found. Jodi Rowley, CC BY-NC-ND

Recordings with a smartphone

Frogs are one of the most threatened groups of animals on the planet. One in five species of Australian frogs – almost 50 species – are threatened with extinction. Disease, habitat loss and climate change are their greatest threats.

At least four species have already gone extinct – including the unique gastric-brooding frogs – while several others haven’t been seen in decades and are feared extinct. It’s vitally important to track how the surviving 240 plus species are faring.

In our research, we analysed the 496,357 frog records logged in NSW on FrogID between 2017 and 2024.

Private lands make up the majority of New South Wales, and cover almost every habitat type. It stands to reason that many frog species should be found across private land. Our analysis of FrogID data found the diversity of frog species was actually higher on private lands than on public lands, which include national parks and other protected areas, once we accounted for differences in aridity and surveying efforts.

In addition, the frog species recorded on private and public lands weren’t the same. Two species were recorded only on private lands and six only on public land.

As we expected, we found that citizen science more comprehensively surveyed public land than surveys by professional scientists, but the difference was more dramatic than expected. Data from professional surveys covered 19% of NSW, while citizen scientists using FrogID covered 35%. There were nearly ten times as many FrogID records as professional records over the same time period.

But the clearest difference was in private lands. A remarkable 86% of all FrogID records came from private lands, compared to only 59% of records obtained via traditional methods.

The green-thighed frog (Litoria brevipalmata) is considered vulnerable in NSW. Almost all recordings logged on FrogID were on private land. Jodi Rowley, CC BY-NC-ND

Frog calls after floods

One of the biggest boons of citizen science is that it can help overcome many of the logistical obstacles associated with traditional professional surveys, particularly for frogs.

Most of the NSW FrogID records come from urban and suburban areas with high human population density. But the data showed an increasing number of landholders in regional and remote areas are using FrogID to record their local frogs.

Obtaining records of frogs from these areas via traditional surveys has long presented a major challenge for scientists. That’s because many frog species in arid and semi-arid areas only become active after heavy rains. But these areas can become inaccessible to scientists due to flooded roads.

By opportunistically recording frogs when they’re active, landholders are providing the vital information we need to better understand poorly-known frog species such as burrowing frogs from the Cyclorana genus and the charismatic crucifix frog (Notaden bennettii).

Private lands are vital to conservation

It’s common to think that threatened species will be restricted to protected areas such as national parks. Our research adds to the body of evidence showing this isn’t the case.

We found 20 of the 24 NSW threatened frog species we analysed had been recorded on private land. In fact, a third of all threatened frog species were predominantly recorded on private land, while three threatened frog species had over 70% of recordings logged on private land.

One such species is Sloane’s froglet (Crinia sloanei), a tiny frog from inland New South Wales and northern central Victoria. Habitat loss has greatly reduced its range. It’s now considered endangered nationally. We found 96% of records were on private land, largely around Albury–Wodonga on the Victorian border. Similarly, the nationally vulnerable green and golden bell frog was largely recorded on private lands.

This figure shows how often frog species recordings were logged on FrogID based on land tenure. Threatened species names are in bold. Grace Gillard, CC BY-NC-ND

How can you help?

Private lands are now seen as increasingly important in conserving wildlife, including threatened species. The good news is, this means landholders and citizen scientists can make a direct difference.

Protecting or creating wildlife habitats on your property can make a very real contribution to biodiversity conservation. Even humble farm dams can support threatened frog species.

While citizen science has greatly improved our knowledge of frog species across Australia including poorly-sampled areas, scientists still need more data on Australia’s frogs.

Recording and uploading the calls of any frogs you hear using the FrogID app is a simple and effective way of adding to our collective knowledge of these remarkable amphibians. The more data sources we have, the better. Citizen scientists are giving real-time updates of where frogs live and how their distributions are changing over time. These data in turn help focus efforts to bring back threatened frog species from the brink of extinction.

Jodi Rowley is the Lead Scientist of the Australian Museum's citizen science project, FrogID. She has received funding from state, federal and philanthropic agencies.

Grace Gillard does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

More floods are coming. Here’s what actually works to help people prepare

2026-01-18T00:50:58Z

Weekend storms and flooding in New South Wales led to the NSW State Emergency Service responding to more than 1,600 incidents across the state.

This follows last week’s flash floods in Victoria, where cars were swept to sea and people raced to escape. Many affected were holidaymakers but even locals were caught unprepared.

Previous flood-preparedness approaches have proved insufficient. Government and risk agencies have relied on top-down approaches that broadcast information to people and then expect them to act on it.

Despite decades of increasingly sophisticated warnings and campaigns, attempting to tell people what to do has delivered uneven and often limited results.

So what actually works?

This question was at the heart of our new paper, published in the Journal of Hydrology, which involved engaging with 641 households in flood-prone areas of Kingston and Darebin in the Greater Melbourne area.

We found a more participatory one-on-one approach leads to behaviour changes that actually reduce risk to people and property. That means really listening to people about what they know and how they feel about flood risk.

What we did

The study used a real-world, before-and-after research design to understand how households decide to reduce flood risk. We used a methodology called Community Engagement for Disaster Risk Reduction, conceived by one of us (Brian Cook) but implemented by an extensive team, which prioritises meaningful human engagement over simply spreading awareness or telling people what to do.

Our researchers worked with households in flood-prone areas, holding one-on-one conversations.

Each household completed an initial survey-interview about their experiences, perceptions, and past actions.

Researchers returned months later to repeat the process and record changes.

By combining survey data with recorded conversations, our study tracked what people actually did over time.

What we found

Our research found people made practical changes to reduce flood risk after these engagements.

What mattered was not being told something, but having the space to talk through their own situation, receive follow-up material, and feel supported in making decisions relevant to them.

One participant reflected:

I can’t recall the detail of the conversation but certainly learned from the links you sent me in reference to the SES and the responses to various potential disasters.

Others described how seeing their home in context helped:

I think the maps and the resources that [your research assistant] sent me are what increased my awareness; I think I looked at the map and where we live, and I think I saw that it was probably the risk of flooding was worse than I thought it was.

For some, the engagement helped them think through

what to do if there’s a flood, acting early, making sure everyone’s safe, just like a bushfire.

Several participants described small but meaningful steps, such as:

I’m getting my emergency box together, so if something happens then I will be prepared or at least know what to grab and run for my life.

The conversations also shaped people’s connections with others. One said they:

got in contact with a couple more neighbours since then, just exchanged numbers so that if they see something happening in our place, or vice versa, that we’ve got a contact for them to call.

Another said:

When it came time to renew my insurance policy, double checked it for our flood cover.

One explained:

I increased my house, contents, and building insurance.

Importantly, participants often framed flood risk as something shared and ongoing, not a problem solved by individual vigilance. One reflected:

There are a lot of leaves in the driveway that I went and swept up and put in my bin and then I thought “I’m never going to get them all in my bin”. I needed to make it a council issue rather than an individual owner’s issue. And if the leaves aren’t swept up, they go in the drains and then we get flooding in the driveway.

Another said:

I have asked the body corporate if they could do some new concreting because the ground has settled and that’s more risky. The water actually can come in [to the house] if we have a lot of rain.

Change emerged through feeling supported, being taken seriously, and acting within everyday constraints.

Where to from here?

In our study, change didn’t occur because people were instructed, persuaded, or repeatedly told what to do.

Nor was it the result of improved messaging, scarier warnings, or more information.

What mattered was participatory learning over time: people being invited into respectful conversations, treated as capable decision-makers, and supported to work through risk in ways that made sense within their own lives.

When people are engaged as partners rather than passive recipients, learning becomes relational, actions feel legitimate, and responsibility is shared across households, neighbours, and institutions.

Is it affordable?

Well, continuing on the current, ineffective path might well be even costlier in the long-term. Governments spend vast amounts on each advertisement campaign, with underwhelming results.

The 2022 floods along Australia’s east coast cost around A$7.7 billion in Queensland alone. If you reduced the damages by 10% you’d have more than $700 million in savings.

Engaging one-on-one with each household in high risk flood zones sounds expensive, but so too are many other tailored services provided by governments in Australia. Think, for instance, of home visits by a midwife or child health nurse after a person gives birth, or an in-home assessment provided by My Aged Care. As a society, we’ve decided those one-on-one engagements, while costly, are worth it.

Our research suggests it’s time we consider a similar approach with disaster risk reduction.

We know what works

Disaster preparedness has for too long persisted with approaches that seek to persuade, instruct, or direct.

But as recent events confirm, disasters do not unfold in neat or predictable ways.

Floods demand judgement, improvisation, and quick decisions made under extreme stress. What’s required isn’t simple compliance with predetermined instructions, but learning that can be adapted and adjusted in the moment.

Crucially, nearly all participants reported enjoying or appreciating the engagements, which helped spread the word and support further community connections.

When people are engaged in conversations that take their circumstances seriously, they build confidence and capacity to respond to unpredictable situations.

This is why participatory engagement and collaboration sit at the heart of the durable risk reduction we will need in an increasingly dangerous future.

Brian Robert Cook receives funding from Melbourne Water. He is the current president of the Institute of Australian Geographers.

Nicholas Harrigan receives funding from Australian Research Council, Hort Australia, and ACIAR. He is Macquarie University Branch President of the National Tertiary Education Union.

Peter Kamstra does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

As Victoria’s Great Ocean Road flash floods show, we need to get better at taking warnings seriously

2026-01-16T01:48:43Z

The images and stories of flash flooding coming out of Victoria’s Great Ocean Road overnight have been described as “terrifying”. It’s easy to see why.

Holidaymakers at Victoria’s Wye River watched as cars were swept out to sea and a caravan park was rapidly inundated. Some had to get new clothes at an op-shop.

One resident at nearby Separation Creek told the ABC:

We missed being killed probably by about ten seconds […] we just ran for our lives.

I’ve been studying floods and flood risks for decades. On the one hand, this was a shocking event, due partly to the bad luck of such a heavy downpour occurring in an area with many geographic risk factors for flash flooding.

On the other hand, it was not surprising. These one-in-hundred chance floods will occur somewhere every year, and with climate change these kinds of events will become more intense and more frequent.

In fact, due to global warming over the last 30 years, there is clear evidence the intensity of such thunderstorm events have increased by 15–20%.

Hard to predict

The challenge with these kinds of floods is that they are caused by thunderstorms; it’s notoriously difficult to predict exactly where they will occur.

You might see a thunderstorm on the radar and know it’s heading in a certain direction, but it’s very hard to know exactly where it will actually impact.

In this case, it just happened to hit the Wye River catchment, which is particularly bad luck for the locals who live near the coast and the visiting holidaymakers. This area features very small and steep catchments draining the southern slopes of the Otways (a forested mountain region in Victoria).

These catchments respond very quickly to thunderstorms; it doesn’t take long for rainfall to produce runoff from all parts of the catchment.

This is a real problem for catchments along the surf coast areas of Victoria as there is little or no opportunity to provide effective flood warning.

At Wye River, the most intense part of the thunderstorm was only a tiny percentage of the whole area of forecast rainfall. That makes things really difficult to predict.

In a catchment like that, flash flooding can happen unbelievably quickly – things can go within minutes from OK to really dangerous.

All that was needed was maybe a few hours of intense rainfall. Most of the rain appeared to fall on the upper reaches of the catchment, so it wouldn’t necessarily have been evident to campers and holidaymakers.

But once it’s in the waterways, the floodwaters can rapidly shoot down the river system. The first anyone might know there is a problem is when the flood suddenly arrives.

What can we do to reduce risk?

The best thing we can do is educate communities about what warnings mean and how to respond when authorities say there’s a storm on the way.

If you’re in a high risk area, you shouldn’t just be saying, “Oh it’s just a bit of rain, we’ll wait it out.”

Look at the effort governments have put into raising awareness about bushfire risk and response. They have worked hard on grading messages so people leave high risk areas when the risks are catastrophic, often before there are any fires in their actual area. We have learned to take such warnings seriously.

I don’t think the community is there yet with floods – but we do need to get better at this.

The camp grounds in such areas are typically on nice flat grassy areas next to the river bank, so you can see why people camp and holiday there. But when floods arrive, that’s the worst place to be.

So, what would I have done, as someone who knows floods?

If I was in a floodplain or on a flat area next to a river, and had a warning severe thunderstorms are predicted to occur in this region, I would probably – at the very least – get the kids up and drive to higher ground. At least, I hope I would.

Even though I am attuned to flood risks in my professional life, I can imagine being caught out in holiday mode and being slow to respond. I can well imagine staying put and hoping for the best.

It can be difficult to think about risk when you’re on holidays; it’s easy to switch off and just think you’ll wait the rain out.

Nature can be capricious, floods especially so, and with climate change we must be more aware of risks.

More common as the climate changes

I spend a lot of time researching the impact of climate change on these events.

In Victoria, we can expect small floods will get smaller (due to drying soils), and large floods will get bigger (due to more intense rainfalls).

As a rough rule of thumb, the risk of flooding will double by the end of this century. The impacts of floods caused by thunderstorms will tend to be larger.

Overall, what hit Wye River was pretty rare. But flash floods like this will always happen somewhere, and unfortunately on this occasion they occurred in an area where a lot of people were on holiday and the steep slopes directed flood waters toward people.

Unfortunately, we will all have to get better at learning to live with floods, even when on holidays.

Rory Nathan has received funding from in the past from the ARC, industry partners, and Australian water authorities.

In the most cleared state in Australia, Victoria’s native wildlife needs our help after fires

2026-01-15T18:43:12Z

Victoria has just suffered some of its worst bushfires since the Black Summer fires of 2019–20. Over 400,000 hectares are estimated to have burnt so far, an area more than five times larger than Singapore.

Regional communities have been deeply affected. They need support to recover and rebuild their homes, towns and lives. And what about the state’s unique plants, animals and ecosystems?

Both large and small fires erupted in Victoria, and were extraordinarily widespread across diverse environments. They burned in the Wimmera–Mallee region in the northwest, the Otways in the southwest, central Victoria, northeastern Victoria and eastern Victoria, including the alpine region. This means a correspondingly diverse range of native plants and animals has been affected.

Compounding this, Victoria is the most cleared state in Australia. This makes it more difficult for animals to find suitable habitat outside of burnt areas in a fragmented landscape as they recover.

A night image of fires lighting up the sky above Lake Eildon during the Victorian bushfires. Graeme Thomas/Facebook

How will these fires affect nature?

Fires have short and long-term affects on wildlife. While a high proportion of animals can survive fires, the total numbers of insects, birds, frogs, reptiles, mammals and others that have died during the fires or afterwards, will still be large. This is due to severe burns, smoke, radiant heat or other injuries as they try to escape. Many animals get caught on fences as they move across landscapes seeking refuge.

We might think animals that can fly, such as many insects, birds and bats, should be able to easily escape. But smoke and extreme heat makes it difficult to breathe and regulate their body temperature, and can disorient wildlife. Temperatures soared well above 40°C during the fires. Along with intense winds, this took a heavy toll on some animals. Tragically, thousands of flying foxes died.

Many animals will have survived fires by finding refuge in protected waterways, caves, rock and boulder piles, or by going underground, including into wombat burrows. Echidnas dig into the ground and go to sleep, a clever tactic to conserve energy and reduce stress on the body.

After fires, animals face additional challenges. Feral cats and foxes are known to rapidly take advantage of burnt areas. Hunting and capturing their prey in more open habitat is easier. Potoroos, bandicoots, lizards and many others that survive initially may be hunted in the hours, days and weeks after a fire.

The long-term effects

The impact of fire can last for decades, or even longer. Many Australian wildlife species depend on logs and hollows in trees for shelter and to raise young. Fire can both create and destroy hollows.

Importantly, Victoria is the most cleared state in Australia. Hence, hollows are already short in supply and patchily distributed. For some tree species, they can take more than 100 years to form. Their loss puts pressure on threatened species including greater gliders, barking owls and spotted-tailed quolls.

Aquatic life is not immune to the effects of fire either. Rains that occur in burnt landscapes can wash ash, debris and toxins into waterways. This smothers underwater habitats and reduces oxygen and water quality for native fish, crayfish and amphibians. In some cases it leads to mass mortality, including fish kills.

How to respond?

Once bushfires are contained and it is safe to enter, government agencies, scientists and wildlife carers will get a clearer picture of fire severity and native wildlife that need help. They will undertake population surveys and develop a management plan. This may include culling invasive herbivores such as deer, laying poison baits to control feral cats and foxes and installing artificial refuges for native animals.

Agencies should take a whole-of-ecosystem view to ensure well intended actions don’t have unexpected consequences. While 1080 poison may be needed in some areas to help control non-native predators, it also poses a risk to dingoes, a threatened species in Victoria.

This includes the Wilkerr (dingo) population in the Big Desert-Wyperfeld region in northwest Victoria, estimated to number fewer than 100 adults. Approximately 60,000 hectares of Wilkerr habitat has burned. The fires may push Wilkerr into agricultural land seeking cover and water, increasing contact and conflict with livestock graziers. This situation needs to be thoughtfully managed to protect graziers, livestock and Wilkerr.

What should I do?

We can help in a range of ways. These include:

putting out water dishes for animals with sticks or stones in them so small animals don’t drown
donating to charities and organisations that take care of injured wildlife
creating wildlife-friendly gardens that displaced animals may use.

Members of the public should not attempt to feed wildlife, and leave this to experts. Likewise, approaching injured animals is not advised, including kangaroos and snakes. Stressed animals can behave erratically and aggressively, and should only be taken care of by experienced wildlife experts.

Feeding wildlife after fire should be done by experts, such as occurred for rock wallabies following the Gariwerd–Grampians fires.

Governments must change course

As a wildlife ecologist and conservation expert, these fires bring an unwelcome but familiar mixture of deep sadness and intense frustration. As the climate gets hotter, such events will only become more likely and more severe.

Governments must substantially increase efforts to curb climate change, including a rapid transition away from fossil fuels. Likewise, we need far stronger environmental laws, and greater government investment to protect and recover the wildlife and places Australians love.

Fire has shaped Australia’s environments, and many species are adapted to survive and even benefit from fire. But the increasing regularity of severe fires will push some wildlife and ecosystems into oblivion. As with people and communities, we have a duty to provide Australia’s native plants, animals and other life with a safe and secure future.

Euan Ritchie receives funding from the Australian Research Council and the Department of Energy, Environment and Climate Action. Euan is a Councillor within the Biodiversity Council, a member of the Ecological Society of Australia and the Australian Mammal Society, and President of the Australian Mammal Society.

Does adding ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to your ChatGPT prompts really waste energy?

2026-01-14T23:23:20Z

Serene Lee/Getty Images

Cut the words “please” and “thank you” from your next ChatGPT query and, if you believe some of the talk online, you might think you are helping save the planet.

The idea sounds plausible because AI systems process text incrementally: longer prompts require slightly more computation and therefore use more energy. OpenAI’s chief executive Sam Altman has acknowledged it all adds to operating costs at the scale of billions of prompts.

At the same time, it is a stretch to suggest that treating ChatGPT politely comes at significant environmental cost. The effect of a few extra words is negligible compared with the energy required to operate the underlying data centre infrastructure.

What is more important, perhaps, is the persistence of the idea. It suggests that many people already sense AI is not as immaterial as it appears. That instinct is worth taking seriously.

Artificial intelligence depends on large data centres built around high-density computing infrastructure. These facilities draw substantial electricity, require continuous cooling, and are embedded in wider systems of energy supply, water and land use.

As AI use expands, so does this underlying footprint. The environmental question, then, is not how individual prompts are phrased, but how frequently and intensively these systems are used.

Why every AI query carries an energy cost

One structural difference between AI and most familiar digital services helps explain why this matters.

When a document is opened or a stored video is streamed, the main energy cost has already been incurred. The system is largely retrieving existing data.

By contrast, each time an AI model is queried it must perform a fresh computation to generate a response. In technical terms, each prompt triggers a fresh “inference” – a full computational pass through the model – and that energy cost is incurred every time.

This is why AI behaves less like conventional software and more like infrastructure. Use translates directly into energy demand.

The scale of that demand is no longer marginal. Research published in the journal Science estimates that data centres already account for a significant share of global electricity consumption, with demand rising rapidly as AI workloads grow.

The International Energy Agency has warned that electricity demand from data centres could double by the end of the decade under current growth trajectories.

Electricity is only one part of the picture. Data centres also require large volumes of water for cooling, and their construction and operation involve land, materials and long-lived assets. These impacts are experienced locally, even when the services provided are global.

AI’s hidden environmental footprint

New Zealand offers a clear illustration. Its high share of renewable electricity makes it attractive to data centre operators, but this does not make new demand impact-free.

Large data centres can place significant pressure on local grids and claims of renewable supply do not always correspond to new generation being added. Electricity used to run servers is electricity not available for other uses, particularly in dry years when hydro generation is constrained.

Viewed through a systems lens, AI introduces a new metabolic load into regions already under strain from climate change, population growth and competing resource demands.

Energy, water, land and infrastructure are tightly coupled. Changes in one part of the system propagate through the rest.

This matters for climate adaptation and long-term planning. Much adaptation work focuses on land and infrastructure: managing flood risk, protecting water quality, maintaining reliable energy supply and designing resilient settlements.

Yet AI infrastructure is often planned and assessed separately, as if it were merely a digital service rather than a persistent physical presence with ongoing resource demands.

Why the myth matters

From a systems perspective, new pressures do not simply accumulate. They can drive reorganisation.

In some cases, that reorganisation produces more coherent and resilient arrangements; in others, it amplifies existing vulnerabilities. Which outcome prevails depends largely on whether the pressure is recognised early and incorporated into system design or allowed to build unchecked.

This is where discussion of AI’s environmental footprint needs to mature. Focusing on small behavioural tweaks, such as how prompts are phrased, distracts from the real structural issues.

The more consequential questions concern how AI infrastructure is integrated into energy planning, how its water use is managed, how its location interacts with land-use priorities, and how its demand competes with other social needs.

None of this implies that AI should be rejected. AI already delivers value across research, health, logistics and many other domains.

But, like any infrastructure, it carries costs as well as benefits. Treating AI as immaterial software obscures those costs. Treating it as part of the physical systems we already manage brings them into view.

The popularity of the “please” myth is therefore less a mistake than a signal. People sense AI has a footprint, even if the language to describe it is still emerging.

Taking that signal seriously opens the door to a more grounded conversation about how AI fits into landscapes, energy systems and societies already navigating the limits of adaptation.

Richard Morris is the co-founder of Kirini Ltd, a nature-based solutions consultancy. He receives funding from Lincoln University.