– credit Tony Kershaw via SWNS
Tipah and her litter of cubs – credit Tony Kershaw via SWNS


– credit Tony Kershaw via SWNS
Tipah and her litter of cubs – credit Tony Kershaw via SWNS



SWNSFor captive animals, engaging in natural behaviour is a pillar of the animal welfare framework. But when it comes to sex, one important behaviour has been largely ignored, and sometimes even punished: masturbation.
Solo sex is surprisingly common across the animal kingdom. It is well documented in primates. Tortoises are surprisingly vocal during their solo lovemaking endeavours, if not very graceful. Camels masturbate by rubbing their penises in the sand and porcupines make inventive use of all sorts of objects.
Our new study could change how other scientists view masturbation in birds and improve their welfare.
Masturbation also seems to be common in birds. A quick internet search brings up an abundance of video clips on social media and dedicated posts on bird-keeping forums, largely from worried or bemused hobbyist bird keepers.
It has often been treated as an abnormal problem behaviour in captive birds (particularly parrots). Folklore husbandry has assumed it is the undesirable outcome of stress, bad health or poor environment. Bird keepers often therefore discourage masturbation via punishment or veterinary interventions such as diet or care changes and, sometimes, even drugs and surgery. Despite the welfare implications, masturbation in birds had been largely unexplored by the scientific community.
We set out to change that, by investigating the distribution and evolutionary history of masturbation in birds for the first time. We studied 120 species of bird across 22 major groups, gathering data from the scattered scientific literature, online reports and community forums, and surveys of bird experts.
Our study found that masturbation is widespread across birds with a strong evolutionary history, meaning that it’s an ancient trait probably similar in closely related species. Although we found more records of masturbation in male birds, it occurs in both sexes and across all age groups.
Solo sex also seems to be linked to species that mate with multiple partners, supporting the idea that it might help to increase reproductive success when there is a high degree of competition over fertilisation. For instance, in males it may flush out old sperm to leave newer (better condition) sperm for mating. In females it may increase sexual arousal to help with sneak mating with males other than their partner.
Crucially, we discovered that masturbation is actually less common in captivity than the wild, and more common in birds reared by their own parents than by humans. What this tells us is that masturbation in birds is neither an unnatural behaviour, nor a consequence of captivity. Given this finding, it is important that birds are not prevented from masturbation. Of course, as with any behaviour, there may be extreme cases where chronic masturbation could indicate underlying health or husbandry issues.
Avian self-pleasure is usually a rather inelegant affair, in which a bird rubs their cloaca (a shared orifice for both excretion and reproduction) against an object, like a branch, twig or toy. This is often accompanied by a lot of flapping and self-satisfied vocalisation.
One potential reason for the lack of scientific studies exploring avian masturbation may be because the cloaca is thought to have fewer nerve clusters, and therefore lower sensitivity, than our own genitals.
Clearly however, birds are getting some satisfaction from masturbation, so perhaps there is more to a bird’s sensations during sex than has previously been recognised. Further exploration of this could have important implications for both welfare and captive breeding programmes. While sexual pleasure may not be exactly the same experience as for mammals, it is wildly premature to dismiss the idea that birds also feel pleasure.![]()
Chloe Heys, Senior Lecturer in Biology, University of Lancashire; Kevin Arbuckle, Senior Lecturer in Biosciences, Swansea University, and Matilda Brindle, Postdoctoral Researcher in Evolutionary Biology, University of Oxford
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Fabiana Rizzi / Unsplash
Hassan Al Razi, The University of Western AustraliaEvery evening, as they move from place to place through the forest, chimpanzees stop to build a nest – most often in a tree – to sleep in. Using a selection of branches, leaves and twigs, they create comfortable and safe spaces to get some shuteye.
Like human beds, these are places to rest – but they also help chimps stay warm or cool and protect themselves against the weather. As you might expect, how and where chimpanzees build their nests depends on things like temperature, humidity, wind and rainfall.
But how do they make these choices? Previous research has shown the construction is related to the conditions at the time when the creatures are building the nest.
In new research, published today in Current Biology, my colleagues and I show that chimps are a little bit cleverer than you might expect: they seem to build their nests in ways that anticipate what the overnight weather will be.
We conducted a field study on eastern chimpanzees in Nyungwe National Park, Rwanda, a cool and humid mountain forest. Over a 12-month period, we collected detailed data on the structure of nests, the characteristics of their chosen sites, and the kinds of trees the chimps chose.
We also measured how well different kinds of nests insulate against cold and heat. At the same time, we made detailed records of weather conditions when the nests were being built and throughout the night.
This let us test whether chimpanzees respond primarily to immediate environmental conditions, or whether their nesting decisions are better explained by the conditions they experience later during the night.
Our results show chimpanzees consistently adjust their nesting behaviour in relation to environmental conditions. They preferred to build nests in places that were warmer, more humid and less exposed to wind than surrounding areas.
Nest structure and insulation varied systematically with environmental conditions. In cooler and wetter conditions, nests were thicker and deeper – indicating the chimpanzees put more effort into insulation when conditions are tougher.
We also found that factors such as the width and depth of the nest influenced its insulating ability.
The chimpanzees tended to build more insulating nests when weather was colder and when it was more humid, both during nest-building and overnight.
In cooler and wetter conditions, the chimps also built their nests higher, in taller trees with denser leaf cover. This makes sense: it would be a more stable microclimate with more shelter from rain.
Importantly, nesting decisions aligned more closely with overnight environmental conditions than with those at the time of construction. When we took overnight weather into account, we found we could explain the variation in nesting behaviour much better than if we used only the current conditions.
One possible explanation is that chimpanzees use environmental cues, such as shifts in temperature, humidity or atmospheric pressure, that are linked to upcoming weather.
These cues may allow them to adjust nest-building behaviour in advance. Does this mean they predict or forecast future weather? Not quite.
But it does show their behaviour is consistent with reacting to environmental signals that are associated with later conditions. Either way, the chimps display a remarkable sensitivity to their environment – and a grasp of how to live in it.![]()
Hassan Al Razi, PhD Student, School of Human Sciences, The University of Western Australia
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Tropical rainforests are known for their unique biodiversity, with species found nowhere else on Earth. But nearly 30% of tropical rainforest has been destroyed or has become seriously degraded since 1990. Many of these forests have not been fully explored for their biodiversity. This means that the world may be losing species before they are even discovered by modern science.
In Africa, forest loss is rapid; about 25% of the continent’s tropical forest has been lost since 1990, against a backdrop of incomplete knowledge of where the biodiversity is located.
Greatly lagging in this respect are the “sky islands” of northern Mozambique: isolated granite mountains that rise sharply out of the savanna plains. They were left standing when softer rock around them gradually eroded, and can be as high as 3,000 metres elevation. Because they rise so steeply, the sky islands attract clouds and rainfall, feeding moisture to the tropical rainforests on their slopes within an otherwise arid terrain. Isolation has allowed unique species to evolve on each mountain, such as geckos, rodents, fishes, crabs, frogs, butterflies and bats.
From 2014 to 2018, a research team led by fellow herpetologist Werner Conradie and myself explored these sky island forests to catalogue the species of reptiles found there. We found that each sky island forest is home to a previously unknown species of chameleon within the genus Nadzikambia (forest-dwelling “sylvan chameleons”).
Unfortunately, these chameleons are already at risk of extinction due to the heavy slash-and-burn clearing of the forests, the only place they can call home.
We’ve described these new species, choosing four names to highlight pioneering women scientists whose work inspired us to strive towards new discoveries, but also to call attention to the losses of their forest habitat.
Over the course of several years, we explored four of Mozambique’s sky islands – Mount Namuli, Mount Inago, Mount Chiperone and Mount Ribáuè – with the aim of cataloguing all reptiles but also in the hopes of finding new species of chameleons. This was because a species of sylvan chameleon had been discovered on one of these mountains during the 1960s, but they were not known from any other mountains.
However, chameleons can be very difficult to find, given their ability to remain camouflaged against the background coupled with their slow movements. They are more easily spotted at night while they are sleeping, as they stand out against the vegetation when illuminated by a strong beam of light. Sylvan chameleons are even more difficult to spot than others, as they usually perch high in the thick forest canopy – tens of metres up.
The search meant dealing with some tough conditions: a long, arduous trek up the hot, arid slopes to reach the forest high up the mountain. Establishing a remote base camp was essential. All food, clothes and gear had to be packed into the camp, and we didn’t know how long it would take to find any animals.
At each of these mountains, we surveyed every night for chameleons – no trails to follow, no GPS signal to guide us, no cellphone signal to call for help.
Sometimes we were lucky and found chameleons on the first or second night. At other mountains we were not so lucky, with fruitless searches making it necessary to return another year.
Eventually these mountains revealed their secrets and we discovered four new species of sylvan chameleon, one on each of the four mountains.
We don’t know how big their populations are, but we assume they are in decline. Most of their habitat has been destroyed by forest clearing to make way for agriculture, with increasingly rapid losses in the last decade. We estimate that in some cases, 80%-90% of their habitat has been destroyed.
When parts of an ecosystem are lost, the whole becomes unstable and is eventually lost.
To highlight their predicament, we have described and named these chameleons and have forecast that three of these species are at high risk of extinction.
In particular, we highlight Nadzikambia goodallae from Mount Ribáuè. This species has been named in honour of the distinguished scientist Jane Goodall, whose own study species, the chimpanzee, is under similar pressures from loss of its rainforest habitat.
We also honour the renowned discoverer of the structure of DNA, Rosalind Franklin, by naming the species from Mount Namuli as Nadzikambia franklinae. The use of DNA data from these chameleons was essential to confirm them as new species.
We have dubbed the species from Mount Inago as Nadzikambia evanescens, meaning “vanishing” in Latin, acknowledging the state of the forest destruction.
The final species, Nadzikambia nubila, is named for the cloudy aspect of Mount Chiperone. This species has a lower risk of extinction given that the local community view the forest as sacred, and say it should be protected.
Female sylvan chameleon (Nadzikambia nubila) from Mount Chiperone. Krystal Tolley, CC BY
This latter case is significant, as it demonstrates that wholesale destruction of these forests is not an essential trade-off for local people to thrive. If encouraged and supported, community support and buy-in can be a solution to protect biodiversity in these sensitive ecosystems.![]()
Krystal Tolley, Principal Scientist, University of Johannesburg
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
You might go for a walk in the forest to disconnect from work and calm your nerves after a busy week. The chirping and calls of birds in the canopy above might be exactly what allows you to relax.
But what sounds soothing to humans may signal danger to other animals – and trigger fear across the forest.
In our research, published today in Current Biology, we show that when some animals spot a predator they issue a warning cry that is picked up by others and spread through the rainforest canopy. For a time, different species are linked into a shared information network, and parts of the forest briefly fall silent.
During an expedition to a remote area of the Peruvian Amazon, working with a falconer, we used trained raptors to trigger warning calls from birds and primates. We recorded the calls then played them back into the forest and monitored how the community responded.
We already knew that birds sometimes repeat the warnings of others – occasionally even those of different species, or of primates. What we wanted to know was how widespread this behaviour is across the animal community.
We discovered that alarm calls produced by small bird species – those weighing less than 100 grams – were most often passed on. Other small birds living in the canopy were the most likely to relay the call, but other animals joined in too.
Larger species, including capuchin and spider monkeys, sometimes responded as well. Two canopy species in particular – the black-fronted and the white-fronted nunbirds – stood out as especially likely to repeat and propagate the warnings of their neighbours throughout the forest.
Alarm calls from species living in the forest understorey were far less likely to spread and be propagated by other birds or primates.
However, even when these alarm calls were not repeated, they changed the forest’s soundscape. Small canopy birds almost completely stopped singing after hearing a predator alert. At the same time, animals in lower forest layers often continued to make sounds despite the perceived threat.
Together, these findings suggest that the Amazonian canopy is not only the rainforest’s most mysterious layer – largely unexplored and home to much of its biodiversity – but also functions as an information highway, like a fibre-optic network through which animals rapidly share signals of danger.
In the past decade, the idea of an “internet of the forest” has become popular through the concept of the “wood wide web”, where plants exchange resources and information via root systems and fungal networks. Our work points to another communication system, one operating high above the ground.
Suspended above our heads is a vast ecosystem where animals constantly listen to one another, forming an eavesdropping network that spreads critical information within seconds.
The vocal activity of birds is usually associated with finding mates and defending territories. However, we now know that sometimes this activity, or lack of it, may represent pulses of a soundscape of fear.
Next time you walk through a rainforest, look up and listen to the birds. A sudden silence may mean a raptor is gliding somewhere above the canopy.![]()
Ettore Camerlenghi, Associate Research Fellow, Avian Behaviour, Deakin University and Ari MartÃnez, Assistant Professor of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology, University of California, Santa Cruz
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Landscapes along the Li River amid the South China Karst – credit, Sam Beasley via Unsplash


Collage of the 24 new Amphipod species identified in Clarion-Clipperton Zone – credit, National Oceanographic Center, Southampton
Location of the Clarion Clipperton Zone – credit USGS

Masaya at the Liverpool Vet. Hospital where she underwent surgery – credit, Chester Zoo via SWNS



Animals are noisy. And their noises can travel a long way.
But making sounds can be a double-edged sword: it can help them communicate, sometimes over long distances, but it can also reveal them to predators.
In new research published in the Journal of Mammalian Evolution, my colleague and I studied how far the sounds of 103 different mammal species travel, and discovered some surprising patterns.
What’s more, these patterns hint at an overlooked impact humans may be having on our fellow creatures: not only changing their sonic landscapes through our own noise, but also changing the world their sounds are travelling through, with unknown effects.
In aquatic mammals, the relationship between the size of an animal and the farthest distance its call travels is simple. Bigger animals can be heard farther away.
On a perfect day in perfect conditions, the call of a blue whale (the largest animal in history) can travel up to 1,600 kilometres. Its (slightly smaller) cousin the fin whale can be heard over a similar distance.
These are the longest-travelling animal sounds ever reported.
On land, the story is very different. Environmental factors are crucial to how far the sound of a terrestrial mammal travels.
Things that matter include the size of an animal’s home range (the area in which it lives and defends resources), whether a call is territorial (to defend against other animals), whether the environment is open versus densely vegetated, and if the animal is very social or solitary.
Lions call to announce their presence in the landscape and to defend territories. Ben JJ Walker / UNSW Sydney, CC BY-NC-ND
Our research is centred around the idea that your sound reveals you to predators, and that revelation leads to a higher risk of injury and death (potentially before you pass on your genes, and hence reducing what evolutionary biologists call “fitness”). This would be because the predator can more quickly locate its calling prey.
There is a delicate balance between using sounds to communicate and using sounds in the wrong place and at the wrong time.
If sound is revealed at the wrong distance, it may mess up the reason an animal uses the sound in the first place.
Animals that cannot adapt to changes in the sound environment may reveal themselves and be eaten, or may be unable to find their friends.
In the midst of human-induced environmental and species change, understanding how animals use sounds to communicate and find each other has become valuable to conservation. Many ecosystems are being cleared on land to make way for development and agriculture.
Our finding that land mammals in closed habitats have evolved to have relatively farther sound distances is important because of what happens when the environment changes.
If a possum has evolved in a eucalyptus forest, for example, and the forest is cleared, its sounds will travel farther (because there are fewer trees to muffle it). As a result, the possum may reveal itself to a predator when it doesn’t mean to.
This in turn means the animal’s call leaves it more exposed than it “should” in evolutionary terms. The animal may not have the same tools to escape predators that animals evolved for open environments do, and so may be more easily eaten.
Many species have reduced in body size due to things like harvesting activities and climate change.
It’s a well documented fact that many whale species have been getting smaller as a result of human whaling activities and environmental impacts.
Since 1981, for example, the length of northern right whales has become about 7% smaller. Among gray whales, animals born in 2020 are estimated to be 1.65 metres shorter than animals born in the 1980s.
Given our finding that larger body sizes mean farther-travelling sounds in aquatic mammals, smaller whales may not be able to be heard as far away.
This means that when smaller whales call to their friends or family members, their calls may not reach these individuals over the enormous distances the species travel.
Our findings add a new dimension to our understanding of how humans are affecting animals, and may help inform future conservation decisions.
Do they mean anything in our everyday lives?
For one thing, they remind us to take a moment to listen to the world around us.
We might find out where an animal is. We might observe a new species.
We might even find a quiet space in the landscapes around us to sit and connect again with the world and ourselves.![]()
Ben JJ Walker, Researcher, UNSW Sydney
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Seishiro Tada with fossilized Triceratops – SWNS
SWNS