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In a broad swath of northwestern Alaska, small groups of recent immigrants are hard at work. Like many residents of this remote area, they’re living off the land. But these industrious foreigners are neither prospecting for gold nor trapping animals for their pelts. In fact, their own luxurious fur was once a hot commodity. Say hello to Castor canadensis, the American beaver.

Much like humans, beavers can have an oversized effect on the landscape (SN: 8/4/18, p. 28). People who live near beaver habitat complain of downed trees and flooded land. But in areas populated mostly by critters, the effects can be positive. Beaver dams broaden and deepen small streams, forming new ponds and warming up local waters. Those beaver-built enhancements create or expand habitats hospitable to many other species — one of the main reasons that researchers refer to beavers as ecosystem engineers.
Beavers’ tireless toils — to erect lodges that provide a measure of security against land-based predators and to build a larder of limbs, bark and other vegetation to tide them over until spring thaw — benefit the wildlife community.

A couple of decades ago, the dam-building rodents were hard to find in northwestern Alaska. “There’s a lot of beaver around here now, a lot of lodges and dams,” says Robert Kirk, a long-time resident of Noatak, Alaska — ground zero for much of the recent beaver expansion. His village of less than 600 people is the only human population center in the Noatak River watershed.
Beavers may be infiltrating the region for the first time in recent history as climate change makes conditions more hospitable, says Ken Tape, an ecologist at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. Or maybe the expansion is a rebound after trapping reduced beaver numbers to imperceptible levels in the early 1900s, he says. Nobody knows for sure.
And the full range of changes the rodents are generating in their new Arctic ecosystems hasn’t been studied in detail. But from what Tape and a few other researchers can tell so far, the effects could be profound, and most of them will probably be beneficial for other species.

In the areas newly colonized by beavers, “some really interesting processes are unfolding,” says John Benson, a wildlife ecologist at the University of Nebraska–Lincoln who studies wolves and coyotes, among other beaver predators. “I’d expect some pretty dramatic changes to the areas they take over.”

Beavers’ biggest effects on Arctic ecosystems may come from the added biodiversity within the ponds they create, says James Roth, an ecologist at the University of Manitoba in Winnipeg, Canada. These “oases on the tundra” will not only provide permanent habitat for fish and amphibians, they’ll serve as seasonal stopover spots for migratory waterfowl. Physical changes to the environment could be just as dramatic, thawing permafrost decades faster than climate change alone would.

The Arctic tundra isn’t the first place beavers have made their mark. Changes seen in beaver-rich areas at lower latitudes may offer some clues to the future of the Alaskan tundra, home to moose, caribou and snowshoe hares.

North through Alaska
As Earth’s climate has warmed in recent years, some plants and animals — such as the mountain-dwelling pika, a small mammal related to rabbits — have fled the heat by moving to higher altitudes (SN: 6/30/12, p. 16). Others, from moose and snowshoe hares to bull sharks and bottlenosed dolphins, have moved toward the poles to take advantage of newly hospitable ecosystems (SN: 5/26/18, p. 9).

Arctic environments have changed more than most, Tape says. Polar regions are warming much faster than other parts of the world, he says. Studies estimate that average temperatures in the Arctic have risen about 1.8 degrees Celsius since 1900, about 60 percent faster than the Northern Hemisphere as a whole.

This warming is bringing great change to the Alaskan tundra, Tape says. Winter snow cover doesn’t persist as long as it used to. Streams freeze later in the fall and melt earlier in the spring. Permafrost, the perennially frozen ground, is thawing, allowing shrubs to take hold. New species are moving in, few more noticeable than the beaver. The dams they build and the ponds they create are hard to miss; these newly formed bodies of water even show up on satellite images.
Beavers have infiltrated three watersheds in northwestern Alaska in the last couple of decades. Together these drainages cover more than 18,000 square kilometers — an area larger than Connecticut.

On images of the region collected by Landsat satellites in summer months from 1999 through 2014, Tape and colleagues looked for new areas of wetness that covered at least half a hectare (1.24 acres), or about four times the area covered by an Olympic swimming pool.

The researchers then used newer, high-resolution satellite images to verify the presence of beaver ponds. Available aerial photographs taken before 1999 didn’t pick up any signs of beaver activity in the area, Tape says. Kirk notes that beavers were present in the Lower Noatak River watershed before 1999, but in vastly smaller numbers than they are today.

Based on the images at hand, the researchers found 56 new complexes of beaver ponds in the area over the 16-year study period. On average, beavers expanded their range about 8 kilometers per year, Tape and colleagues reported in the October Global Change Biology.

“This is remarkable, but it shouldn’t come as a surprise,” Tape says. “Beavers are engineers that work every day, all summer long.”

The animals have also made their way into western Alaska’s Seward Peninsula and the northern foothills of the Brooks Range, mountains that stretch east to west across northern Alaska, the researchers found. If the animals’ recent rate of expansion continues, beavers could spread throughout Alaska’s North Slope in the next 20 to 40 years, the researchers say.
The Lower Noatak River watershed, one of the areas that Tape and colleagues studied, is mostly tundra. By definition that means treeless plain. But the area also is about 3.5 percent forest, mainly concentrated along the river and its tributaries. The watersheds just to the north are completely tundra. So how do the beavers there build dams without trees? In those areas, Tape says, the animals construct smaller dams than they might at lower latitudes, using the branches, twigs and foliage of willows and other shrubs.

“I never expected to see beavers on the tundra,” Roth says, intrigued by Tape’s team’s findings.

Happy place
The beavers are not only persisting on the tundra, they’re thriving. The moderately sized streams and flat terrain provide ideal habitat. And once they gain a foothold, these industrious creatures set about making improvements that are probably an overall plus for myriad other species, Tape says.

For instance, frigid conditions in the region cause shallow streams to freeze solid in winter. But when a beaver builds a dam, the water that gathers upstream of the structure becomes deep enough to remain liquid below a sheet of ice that provides insulation from the chilly winter air.

That persistent liquid lets the beavers move about under the ice even in the depths of winter. The water gives them a place to stockpile food, too, Tape notes. That constant supply of liquid water also provides year-round habitat for fish, amphibians and even some insects in their larval stages. None of these species are part of the beaver’s diet, but they could serve as food for other creatures. “All that diversity would add whole new layers to food webs,” Roth says.
Ecological changes could extend well beyond the beaver pond. The water impounded by beaver dams sometimes finds its way past the dam, Tape says. The satellite photos that he and his colleagues analyzed revealed that some stretches of river just downstream of beaver dams now remain unfrozen even in winter. That flowing water probably spills over the dam or around its edges, but some may seep through or under the structure.

That liquid water also helps thaw the underlying permafrost. Previous studies have shown that even a shallow pond less than a meter deep can boost sediment temperature by as much as 10 degrees C above the locale’s average air temperature. That kind of warming causes permafrost to thaw decades earlier than it would without the pond. Although scientists are concerned that permafrost thawing will release stored carbon into the atmosphere, no one yet knows how that thawing will affect the balance of carbon emissions to the atmosphere (SN: 1/21/17, p. 15).

Field studies at lower latitudes hint that beavers will probably bring about other ecological changes, too, Tape says, which might shift over time. For example, moose and snowshoe hares eat the same willow shrubs that beavers consume and build their dams with. And ptarmigan, a crow-sized bird in the grouse family, rely on those shrubs for cover, especially during winter. So immediately after beavers move into an area and start clearing that brush, populations of those species may decline.

But the long-term benefits will probably outweigh the short-term impacts on those species, says Matthew Mumma, an ecologist at the University of Northern British Columbia in Prince George, Canada. Permafrost that thaws along the fringe of a beaver pond will probably boost numbers of the shrubs that these species depend on, Tape and colleagues suggest. So in the long run, the overall numbers of moose, hares and ptarmigan may rise.
Likewise, Mumma notes, beavers could provide big benefits for salmon and other migratory fish. Beaver dams were once thought to impede the travel of such fish upstream or to reduce the number of places where fish could spawn. But studies in the western United States, among other places, have suggested that the presence of beavers actually helps boost populations of salmon. For instance, the aquatic grasses in beaver ponds offer hiding places for young fish. Also, the languid ponds provide a resting spot for adult fish migrating upstream to spawning sites.

Better-fed wolves
Boosting herbivore populations on the tundra would be a boon for local predators, of course. Larger numbers of snowshoe hares, for example, could feed the populations of the arctic foxes that prey upon them, Mumma says. And more moose could mean better-fed wolves.

Beavers themselves make a meal for bears, wolverines and wolves. In areas where wolves and beavers coexist, the rodents make up as much as 30 percent of the wolf diet, Roth says. The presence of a more reliable and more diversified food supply could lead wolves to settle down in smaller territories rather than migrating widely.

Benson and his team have already seen the impact of beaver populations on wolves, coyotes and wolf-coyote hybrids in Ontario’s Algonquin Provincial Park from August 2002 until April 2011.

In that time, 37 of the 105 pups that had been tagged with radio transmitters died, Benson says. The second-highest cause of death was starvation. Every one of those starvation-related deaths took place in the western portion of the park, which has relatively rugged terrain and few beavers. In the eastern portion of the park, where beavers are plentiful, none of the pups starved, Benson and his team reported in 2013 in Biological Conservation.
In a separate study, Mumma and colleagues analyzed aerial surveys of beaver populations within seven broad regions in northeastern British Columbia in 2011 and 2012. Proximity to human activity, such as roadbuilding or oil and gas exploration, didn’t seem to affect beavers’ decisions to build at a particular locale. Nor did the presence of wolves in the area, the researchers reported in February in the Canadian Journal of Zoology.

Although having wolves nearby seemed to affect the number of beavers present (quite possibly via consumption), the predators didn’t seem to scare the rodents away entirely, Mumma notes.

More beavers, fewer sick moose
Whether the presence of beavers on the Alaskan tundra ends up boosting the numbers of moose and other ungulates, the dam builders could have a big, though indirect, impact on the hoofed browsers’ health.

Roth and parasitologist Olwyn Friesen, now at the University of Otago in Dunedin, New Zealand, recently studied how a wolf’s diet affects the parasites it carries — which can then be passed on to other creatures in the environment. The researchers analyzed 32 wolf carcasses collected by provincial conservation officers in southeastern Manitoba in 2011 and 2012. Those remains came from hunters, trappers and roadkill.

In particular, the team tallied the parasites in the wolves’ lungs, liver, heart and intestines. The group also measured the ratio of carbon-12 and carbon-13 isotopes in the wolf tissues, which provided insight into what sorts of prey each individual wolf had eaten near the time those tissues formed.

Typical prey for wolves in this area are, from most consumed to least: white-tailed deer, snowshoe hare, moose, beaver and caribou, Roth says. Each of these creatures has a distinct ratio of the two carbon isotopes in its tissues. That ratio gets passed along to the predators that eat them.

The wolves with diets heavier in beaver had, on average, fewer intestinal parasites called cestodes. (Tapeworms are the best-known members of that group.)

The implications are clear, Roth and Friesen reported in 2016 in the Journal of Animal Ecology. Beaver-eating wolves are much less likely to excrete parasites into the environment where they could be picked up by ungulates, such as moose and caribou. Wolves don’t seem to be detrimentally affected by such parasites. But ungulates that become infected — especially older animals — may have reduced lung capacity, making escape from predators more difficult.
A new resource
Although beavers may speed changes in the Arctic, those effects may still take a long time to manifest.

Despite the proliferation of beavers in the Lower Noatak River watershed in the last couple of decades, “things around here grow so slowly, they’re not really having a long-term impact yet,” says local resident Kirk. Shrubs haven’t yet noticeably spread into any areas of permafrost that have been thawed by waters impounded by recent dam-building.

Nor have the beavers made much of a mark on the local economy, he says. “There’s a lot of people harvesting them now, since there’s so many of them around,” he adds. However, the pelts from those rodents are so far used by the trappers themselves, not sold to others.

The beavers haven’t become a big draw on the local food scene, either. Even connoisseurs say the meat has a gamey, greasy taste. As Kirk puts it, “we haven’t adjusted our taste buds to them yet.”

A new type of implantable bandage could help mend broken hearts.

Each bandage is a thin film that oozes a cocktail of molecules to heal tissue damaged during a heart attack. In experiments with rats and pigs, these patches helped minimize scarring and preserve the heart’s ability to pump blood, researchers report online November 28 in Science Advances. Such devices could someday curb heart attack survivors’ risk of heart failure.

The base of each heart-healing film is a polymer sheet studded with tiny needles — similar to other microneedle patches that deliver vaccines but designed to stick to a patient’s heart rather than her skin (SN: 8/5/17, p. 8). The surface of the polymer opposite the array of microneedles is coated in a gel containing cardiac stromal cells. These cells secrete molecules, such as proteins and tiny pieces of genetic material known as microRNAs, that support the growth of heart muscle cells.
“We’re treating [the patch cells] as little pharmacies,” says study coauthor Ke Cheng, a biological engineer at North Carolina State University in Raleigh. When a patch is attached to the heart, the microneedles funnel curative molecules from the cardiac stromal cells directly into the damaged tissue.

In rats, Cheng’s team tested how well the microneedle patches promoted healthy tissue growth and mitigated scarring. Three weeks after researchers induced rats to have heart attacks, the animals with microneedle patches had roughly 40 percent healthy tissue in the regions of their hearts affected by the heart attack, whereas as untreated rats had only about 10 percent.
For the pigs, the researchers tracked heart health by measuring how much blood was pumped from the animal’s left ventricle to the rest of its body with each heartbeat. Four hours after a heart attack, each heartbeat released about 56 to 57 percent of all the blood in the left ventricle, in both treated and untreated pigs. But 48 hours after the attack, the results began to diverge: Hearts treated with microneedle patches pumped about 60 percent of the left ventricle’s volume, while untreated hearts pumped about 50 percent.
The new microneedle design “is a very interesting and exciting” idea, but researchers need to investigate how animals implanted with these patches fare over longer periods, says Tamer Mohamed, a cardiovascular researcher at the University of Louisville in Kentucky not involved in the work.
Before these microneedle patches are used to treat humans, Cheng’s team plans to swap out the polymer used in this study for a material that gradually dissolves inside the body. The researchers are also exploring less invasive ways to implant patches than open-heart surgery, Cheng says.

When most people were thinking about summer vacation, we were contemplating the biggest science stories of 2018.

Yep, it takes more than six months of effort to put together Science News’ annual issue on the Top 10 science stories of the year. 2018 was no different, though we were hit with some exciting twists that had us revisiting our decisions just a week or so before closing the issue.

The early discussions tend to be more about themes — climate emerged as a big one, even before the recent reports linking increased severity of hurricanes, floods and wildfires to climate change. Reporters lobby to get the stories that intrigued them the most or the discoveries that mark critical turning points onto the short list.
By August, our editors have identified contenders for the top of the list and are assigning stories so writers can get to work. We try to keep the choices under wraps; it’s part of the fun. All of the stories are assigned by October 1. By then, we’re also planning illustrations, graphics and bonus items, like our much-loved list of favorite science books of the year. By Thanksgiving, we’ve nailed down the “map” for the magazine, including story order and page designs.

And then news happens. This year was particularly rich in breaking news that had us reshuffling the deck. That included the discovery of an impact crater hidden under Greenland’s ice, which some scientists argue contributed to the die-off of the mammoths. That story broke on November 14 (SN: 12/8/18, p. 6).

Then there was the U.S. report on domestic climate change impacts, which was released the Friday after Thanksgiving. A few days later came an even bigger surprise: A Chinese scientist claimed that he had created the world’s first gene-edited babies. The announcement unleashed a torrent of criticism from scientists around the world.
So what would you pick as the No. 1 science story of the year? After much discussion, our editorial team decided to stick with our original choice of climate change, considering the extraordinary amount of new data released this year and the import of those findings. The Chinese babies elbowed their way into the No. 2 slot. Even though the scientist’s claim may prove false, the technology has clearly advanced to the point where scientists and governments must act to set ethical standards for human gene editing.

Note to our readers: The magazine will be taking a break over the holidays. The next issue you receive will be dated January 19. But we’ll still be hard at work reporting on developments in science, medicine and technology; visit us at www.sciencenews.org for the latest. In 2019, we’ll publish four double issues, in May, July, October and December. These special issues include more features and in-depth coverage of topics like last summer’s “Water woes,” which included reporting from Mumbai, India. We love having the opportunity to dig deep on pressing issues and hope you enjoy the results. Thank you for being part of the Science News community. We wish you joyous holidays and an evidence-based new year.

In 2018, we saw just how much power science has to make a real impact.

Science News’ top stories of the year include a literal impact — the hidden contours of what appears to be a massive crater created when a meteorite slammed into Greenland long ago. That discovery ranks among our Top 10 partly because it’s just cool, but also because it raises the tantalizing prospect of solving a scientific mystery: Did the impact kick the planet into a roughly 1,000-year cold snap, called the Younger Dryas, almost 13,000 years ago?
The mammoths and other species that died out by the end of that period didn’t see climate change coming. But we can. That’s why human-driven climate change is our top story of the year. The rising tide of attribution studies shows that climbing temperatures are already turning extreme events, such as Hurricane Florence, more extreme. This year’s barrage of climate reports gave us a clearer picture of how climate change will affect Earth in the near future — fueling wildfires, sparking heat waves, raising sea levels —and how human actions to curb warming can have an impact.

2018 is also the year a Chinese researcher made the startling claim that he had created the first babies to be born with an edited gene. The ensuing uproar over the controversial birth of twin girls in China, whose genes were allegedly tweaked to reduce their risk of contracting HIV, is sure to have a lasting impact on the future of gene-editing technology.

Two other genetics stories made our Top 10. Genetic genealogy is shaking up the field of forensics, ID’ing suspects in cold cases while raising privacy issues. And in a lab experiment, a gene drive — a genetic tool designed to be inherited by 100 percent of offspring — wiped out a population of mosquitoes. That feat ushers in the enticing but perilous possibility of both eliminating certain diseases and deliberately driving a species to extinction.

Other stories rounding out our Top 10 examine issues close to home (how to sort through conflicting advice about drinking alcohol) and very far away (tracing a high-energy neutrino back to its source in a distant galaxy). We’ll be watching these stories to see what happens in 2019 and beyond.
— Macon Morehouse, News Director
hurricane flooding
SN TOP 10
1
Can half a degree save us?
This is the year we learned that the 2015 Paris Agreement on global warming won’t be enough to forestall significant impacts of climate change. And a new field of research explicitly attributed some extreme weather events to human-caused climate change. This one-two punch made it clear that climate change isn’t just something to worry about in the coming decades. It’s already here. FULL STORY
Jiankui He
SN TOP 10
2
Gene-edited babies
A Chinese scientist surprised the world in late November by claiming he had created the first gene-edited babies. Many researchers and ethicists say implanting gene-edited embryos to create babies is premature and exposes the children to unnecessary health risks. Critics also fear the creation of “designer babies.” FULL STORY
Sacramento sheriff and Golden State killer
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Genealogy solves crimes
In 2018, criminal investigators in the United States embraced genetic genealogy, a forensic technique for tracking down suspects through their family trees, to solve decades-old cold cases and some fresh crimes. But this new type of DNA-based detective work has raised questions about genetic privacy and police procedures. FULL STORY
IceCube detector
SN TOP 10
4
A neutrino’s distant source
Mysterious particles called neutrinos constantly barrel down on Earth from space. No one has known where, exactly, the highest-energy neutrinos come from. This year, scientists finally put a finger on one likely source: a brilliant cosmic beacon called a blazar. The discovery could kick-start a new field of astronomy that combines information gleaned from neutrinos and light. FULL STORY
Greenland crater illustration
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Impact crater unearthed
For three years, a team of scientists kept a big secret: They had discovered a giant crater-shaped depression buried beneath about a kilometer of ice in northwestern Greenland. In November, the researchers revealed their find to the world. The crater may have reignited a debate over a controversial hypothesis about a mysterious cold snap known as the Younger Dryas. FULL STORY
Anopheles gambiae mosquitoes
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The end of mosquitoes?
For the first time, humans have built a set of pushy, destructive genes that infiltrated small populations of mosquitoes and drove them to extinction. This test and other news from 2018 feed one of humankind’s most persistent dreams: wiping mosquitoes off the face of the Earth. FULL STORY
person covering wine glass
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Health risks of alcohol
For people who enjoy an occasional cocktail, 2018 was a sobering year. Headlines delivered the news with stone-cold certainty: Alcohol — in any amount — is bad for your health. “The safest level of drinking is none,” a group of scientists concluded. FULL STORY
Mars south pole
SN TOP 10
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Mars’ ice-covered lake
Researchers reported this year that they found a wide lake of standing liquid near the Red Planet’s south pole, buried beneath 1.5 kilometers of ice. The purported polar pool is the largest volume of liquid water ever claimed to currently exist on Mars, and has probably been around for a long time. Both of those features raise hopes that life could survive on Mars today. FULL STORY
Gert-Jan Oskam walking with crutches
SN TOP 10
9
Progress against paralysis
Intensive rehabilitation paired with electric stimulation of the spinal cord allowed six paralyzed people to walk or take steps years after their injuries, three small studies published this year showed. More importantly, they show that the spinal cord can make a comeback. FULL STORY
painting on cave walls in Spain
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10
Origins of human smarts
Archaeological discoveries reported this year broadened the scope of what scientists know about Stone Age ingenuity. These finds move the roots of innovative behavior ever closer to the origins of the human genus. FULL STORY

Behavioral ecologist Anna Holzner recalls first seeing a southern pig-tail macaque munching on a headless rat. These monkeys were known to eat fruits, insects and even dirt, but nobody had reported them eating rats. “It was funny,” says Holzner, “and disgusting.”

This unexpected act occurred dozens of times from March to August 2016 as Holzner, of the University of Leipzig in Germany, and colleagues recorded what the macaques ate on oil palm plantations in northwest Peninsular Malaysia. To planters there, the macaques are pests.

Holzner did the work as part of the Macaca Nemestrina Project led by primate ecologist Nadine Ruppert of Universiti Sains Malaysia, in Penang. She presented the results on July 2 at the annual meeting of the Association of Tropical Biology and Conservation in Kuching, Malaysia.

While pig-tail macaques, Macaca nemestrina, spend most of their time in the forest, they visit adjacent plantations daily to forage, report Ruppert, Holzner and others in a related study in the April 4 International Journal of Primatology.

Holzner’s new study shows that in the plantations, pig-tail macaques ate mostly oil palm fruits, spending only 1 percent of their meal times on rats. But the monkeys would peel open the bark on oil palm trunks to expose rats hiding within. The researchers estimate that a group of 30 macaques might eat as many as 2,080 rats in a year. Holzner’s team counted fewer rats wherever they located macaques.

The study has local plantation owners reconsidering the monkeys, which may not be pests after all, but agents of rat control, Holzner says. But as macaques adapt to the encroaching plantations and their numbers grow, they can reduce birds and other creatures living in adjacent forests, warns ecologist Matthew Luskin at the Nanyang Technological University in Singapore.

Today’s young women are more likely to experience depression and anxiety during pregnancy than their mothers were, a generation-spanning survey finds.

From 1990 to 1992, about 17 percent of young pregnant women in southwest England who participated in the study had signs of depressed mood. But the generation that followed, including these women’s daughters and sons’ partners, fared worse. Twenty-five percent of these young women, pregnant in 2012 to 2016, showed signs of depression, researchers report July 13 in JAMA Network Open.
“We are talking about a lot of women,” says study coauthor Rebecca Pearson, a psychiatric epidemiologist at Bristol University in England.

Earlier studies also had suggested that depression during and after pregnancy is relatively common (SN: 3/17/18, p. 16). But those studies are dated, Pearson says. “We know very little about the levels of depression and anxiety in new mums today,” she says.

To measure symptoms of depression and anxiety, researchers used the Edinburgh Postnatal Depression Scale — 10 questions, each with a score of 0 to 3, written to reveal risk of depression during and after pregnancy. A combined score of 13 and above signals high levels of symptoms.

From 1990 to 1992, 2,390 women between the ages of 19 and 24 took the survey while pregnant. Of these women, 408 — or 17 percent — scored 13 or higher, indicating worrisome levels of depression or anxiety.
When researchers surveyed the second-generation women, including both daughters of the original participants and sons’ partners ages 19 to 24, the numbers were higher. Of 180 women pregnant in 2012 to 2016, 45 of them — or 25 percent — scored 13 or more. It’s not clear whether the findings would be similar for pregnant women who are older than 24 or younger than 19.
That generational increase in young women scoring high for symptoms of depression comes in large part from higher scores on questions that indicate anxiety and stress, Pearson says. Today’s pregnant women reported frequent feelings of “unnecessary panic or fear” and “things getting too much,” for instance.

Those findings fit with observations by psychiatrist Anna Glezer of the University of California, San Francisco. “A very significant portion of my patients present with their primary problem as anxiety, as opposed to a low mood,” says Glezer, who has a practice in Burlingame, Calif.

The study’s cutoff score for indicating high depression risk was 13, but Pearson points out that a lower score can signal mild depression. Women who score an 8 or 9 “still aren’t feeling great,” she says. It’s likely that even more pregnant women might have less severe, but still unpleasant symptoms, she says.

The researchers also found that depression moves through families. Daughters of women who were depressed during pregnancy were about three times as likely to be depressed during their own pregnancy than women whose mothers weren’t depressed. That elevated risk “was news to me,” says obstetrician and gynecologist John Keats, who chaired a group of the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists that studied maternal mental health. Asking about whether a patient’s mother experienced depression or anxiety while pregnant might help identify women at risk, he says.

Negative effects of stress can be transmitted during pregnancy in ways that scientists are just beginning to understand, and stopping this cycle is important (SN Online: 7/9/18). “You’re not only talking about the effects on a patient and her family, but potential effects on her growing fetus and newborn,” says Keats, of the David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA.

Although researchers don’t yet know what’s behind the increase, they have some guesses. More mothers work today than in the 1990s, and tougher financial straits push women to work inflexible jobs. More stress, less sleep and more time sitting may contribute to the difference.

Time on social media may also increase feelings of isolation and anxiety, Glezer says. Social media can help new moms get information, but that often comes with “a whole lot of comparisons, judgments and expectations.”

Saturn’s rings are painting its innermost moons.

Data from NASA’s now-defunct Cassini spacecraft show that five odd-shaped moons embedded in Saturn’s rings are different colors, and that the hues come from the rings themselves, researchers report. That observation could help scientists figure out how the moons were born.

“The ring moons and the rings themselves are kind of one and the same,” says planetary scientist Bonnie Buratti of NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, Calif. “For as long as the moons have existed, they’ve been accreting particles from the rings.”
Saturn has more than 60 moons, but those nearest to the planet interact closely with its main band of rings. Between December 2016 and April 2017, Cassini passed close to five of these ring-dwelling moons: ravioli-shaped Pan and Atlas (SN Online: 3/10/17), ring-sculpting Daphnis and Pandora (SN: 9/2/17, p. 16) and potato-shaped Epimetheus. The flybys brought Cassini between two and 10 times closer to the moons than it had ever been, before the spacecraft deliberately crashed into Saturn in September 2017 (SN Online: 9/15/17).

Examining those close-ups, Buratti and her colleagues noticed that the moons’ colors vary depending on the objects’ distances from Saturn. And the moon hues are similar to the colors of the rings that the objects are closest to, the team reports online March 28 in Science.
Close-in Pan was the reddest moon, while the farthest-out Epimetheus was the bluest. The researchers think the red material comes from Saturn’s dense main rings, and mostly consists of organics and iron (SN Online: 10/4/18). The blue material is probably water ice from Saturn’s more distant E ring, which is created by plumes erupting from the larger, icy moon Enceladus.
The team thinks that the rings are continually depositing material onto the moons. “It’s an ongoing process,” Buratti says. She notes that “skirts” of material at Atlas and Pan’s equators are probably made of accreted ring debris, too.

The overall similarity between the moons and rings led the researchers to conclude that these small moons are leftover shards of a destructive event that created the rings in the first place. But it’s unknown whether that event was a collision between long-gone, larger moons, the shredding of one moon by Saturn’s gravity, or some other occurrence (SN: 1/20/18, p. 7).

Saturn, its rings and its moons are “very dynamic,” says planetary scientist Matija Ćuk of the SETI Institute in Mountain View, Calif. The idea that the rings are still shedding material onto the moons today “sounds perfectly reasonable.” He isn’t sure the moons formed at the same time as the rings, though. It’s possible “they formed from the rings since that catastrophic event,” he says.

Editor’s note: On April 10, the Event Horizon Telescope collaboration released a picture of the supermassive black hole at the center of galaxy M87. Read the full story here.

We’re about to see the first close-up of a black hole.

The Event Horizon Telescope, a network of eight radio observatories spanning the globe, has set its sights on a pair of behemoths: Sagittarius A*, the supermassive black hole at the Milky Way’s center, and an even more massive black hole 53.5 million light-years away in galaxy M87 (SN Online: 4/5/17).
In April 2017, the observatories teamed up to observe the black holes’ event horizons, the boundary beyond which gravity is so extreme that even light can’t escape (SN: 5/31/14, p. 16). After almost two years of rendering the data, scientists are gearing up to release the first images in April.

Here’s what scientists hope those images can tell us.

What does a black hole really look like?
Black holes live up to their names: The great gravitational beasts emit no light in any part of the electromagnetic spectrum, so they themselves don’t look like much.

But astronomers know the objects are there because of a black hole’s entourage. As a black hole’s gravity pulls in gas and dust, matter settles into an orbiting disk, with atoms jostling one another at extreme speeds. All that activity heats the matter white-hot, so it emits X-rays and other high-energy radiation. The most voraciously feeding black holes in the universe have disks that outshine all the stars in their galaxies (SN Online: 3/16/18).
The EHT’s image of the Milky Way’s Sagittarius A, also called SgrA, is expected to capture the black hole’s shadow on its accompanying disk of bright material. Computer simulations and the laws of gravitational physics give astronomers a pretty good idea of what to expect. Because of the intense gravity near a black hole, the disk’s light will be warped around the event horizon in a ring, so even the material behind the black hole will be visible.
And the image will probably look asymmetrical: Gravity will bend light from the inner part of the disk toward Earth more strongly than the outer part, making one side appear brighter in a lopsided ring.

Does general relativity hold up close to a black hole?
The exact shape of the ring may help break one of the most frustrating stalemates in theoretical physics.

The twin pillars of physics are Einstein’s theory of general relativity, which governs massive and gravitationally rich things like black holes, and quantum mechanics, which governs the weird world of subatomic particles. Each works precisely in its own domain. But they can’t work together.

“General relativity as it is and quantum mechanics as it is are incompatible with each other,” says physicist Lia Medeiros of the University of Arizona in Tucson. “Rock, hard place. Something has to give.” If general relativity buckles at a black hole’s boundary, it may point the way forward for theorists.

Since black holes are the most extreme gravitational environments in the universe, they’re the best environment to crash test theories of gravity. It’s like throwing theories at a wall and seeing whether — or how — they break. If general relativity does hold up, scientists expect that the black hole will have a particular shadow and thus ring shape; if Einstein’s theory of gravity breaks down, a different shadow.

Medeiros and her colleagues ran computer simulations of 12,000 different black hole shadows that could differ from Einstein’s predictions. “If it’s anything different, [alternative theories of gravity] just got a Christmas present,” says Medeiros, who presented the simulation results in January in Seattle at the American Astronomical Society meeting. Even slight deviations from general relativity could create different enough shadows for EHT to probe, allowing astronomers to quantify how different what they see is from what they expect.
Do stellar corpses called pulsars surround the Milky Way’s black hole?
Another way to test general relativity around black holes is to watch how stars careen around them. As light flees the extreme gravity in a black hole’s vicinity, its waves get stretched out, making the light appear redder. This process, called gravitational redshift, is predicted by general relativity and was observed near SgrA* last year (SN: 8/18/18, p. 12). So far, so good for Einstein.

An even better way to do the same test would be with a pulsar, a rapidly spinning stellar corpse that sweeps the sky with a beam of radiation in a regular cadence that makes it appear to pulse (SN: 3/17/18, p. 4). Gravitational redshift would mess up the pulsars’ metronomic pacing, potentially giving a far more precise test of general relativity.

“The dream for most people who are trying to do SgrA* science, in general, is to try to find a pulsar or pulsars orbiting” the black hole, says astronomer Scott Ransom of the National Radio Astronomy Observatory in Charlottesville, Va. “There are a lot of quite interesting and quite deep tests of [general relativity] that pulsars can provide, that EHT [alone] won’t.”

Despite careful searches, no pulsars have been found near enough to SgrA* yet, partly because gas and dust in the galactic center scatters their beams and makes them difficult to spot. But EHT is taking the best look yet at that center in radio wavelengths, so Ransom and colleagues hope it might be able to spot some.

“It’s a fishing expedition, and the chances of catching a whopper are really small,” Ransom says. “But if we do, it’s totally worth it.”
How do some black holes make jets?
Some black holes are ravenous gluttons, pulling in massive amounts of gas and dust, while others are picky eaters. No one knows why. SgrA* seems to be one of the fussy ones, with a surprisingly dim accretion disk despite its 4 million solar mass heft. EHT’s other target, the black hole in galaxy M87, is a voracious eater, weighing in at between about 3.5 billion and 7.22 billion solar masses. And it doesn’t just amass a bright accretion disk. It also launches a bright, fast jet of charged subatomic particles that stretches for about 5,000 light-years.

“It’s a little bit counterintuitive to think a black hole spills out something,” says astrophysicist Thomas Krichbaum of the Max Planck Institute for Radio Astronomy in Bonn, Germany. “Usually people think it only swallows something.”

Many other black holes produce jets that are longer and wider than entire galaxies and can extend billions of light-years from the black hole. “The natural question arises: What is so powerful to launch these jets to such large distances?” Krichbaum says. “Now with the EHT, we can for the first time trace what is happening.”

EHT’s measurements of M87’s black hole will help estimate the strength of its magnetic field, which astronomers think is related to the jet-launching mechanism. And measurements of the jet’s properties when it’s close to the black hole will help determine where the jet originates — in the innermost part of the accretion disk, farther out in the disk or from the black hole itself. Those observations might also reveal whether the jet is launched by something about the black hole itself or by the fast-flowing material in the accretion disk.

Since jets can carry material out of the galactic center and into the regions between galaxies, they can influence how galaxies grow and evolve, and even where stars and planets form (SN: 7/21/18, p. 16).

“It is important to understanding the evolution of galaxies, from the early formation of black holes to the formation of stars and later to the formation of life,” Krichbaum says. “This is a big, big story. We are just contributing with our studies of black hole jets a little bit to the bigger puzzle.”

Editor’s note: This story was updated April 1, 2019, to correct the mass of M87’s black hole; the entire galaxy’s mass is 2.4 trillion solar masses, but the black hole itself weighs in at several billion solar masses. In addition, the black hole simulation is an example of one that uphold’s Einstein’s theory of general relativity, not one that deviates from it.

As the morning sun peeked through the trees, Rodger Kram readied himself for the coming marathon. But not the kind he used to run.

Kram, a physiologist at the University of Colorado Boulder, stood next to undergrad James Wilson at the end of a rural dirt road. Each donned a strap of nylon webbing onto his head. Attached to the bottom of their straps — called tumplines — a log rested horizontally across the duo’s lower backs.
The pair was about to embark on a 25-kilometer trek to replicate how the ancient people of Chaco Canyon may have transported timber around 1,000 years ago (SN: 5/17/17). By the end of the day, their successful journey suggested that it would have taken just a few days for three people with tumplines to carry a full-size timber to Chaco, Kram, Wilson and colleagues reported on February 22 in the Journal of Archaeological Science: Reports.

Located in the northwest corner of New Mexico, Chaco Canyon is home to grand structures built between A.D. 850 and 1200. Multistoried stone buildings called great houses had roofs with timber beams about 5 meters long and 22 centimeters in diameter. The site contained at least 200,000 timbers of this size.
But the wood came from forests more than 75 kilometers away (SN: 9/26/01). Load-pulling animals and wheels weren’t there at the time, and the timbers don’t appear to have been dragged. Scientists are puzzled by how the ancient people, ancestors of modern-day Diné and Pueblo peoples, moved the large timbers.

A 1986 study suggested that each log used as a beam had a mass of 275 kilograms. But Kram suspected this number couldn’t be correct.

In 2016, he cut a section of a tree outside of his house — ponderosa pine, the same species used in Chaco — and weighed it on his bathroom scale. He then extrapolated that a 5-meter-long timber would be closer to 90 kilograms. This revelation led to a 2022 study recalculating the masses of the Chaco Canyon timbers as between 85 and 140 kilograms.

“As soon as we figured out that the weight was reasonable, I wanted to carry them,” Kram says.

He and Wilson proposed that tumplines could have been used to transport the timbers. These head straps have been found on every inhabited continent and are thought to have been used since at least around 2,000 years ago. They are still widely used to carry heavy loads, such as by professional porters in Nepal. A tumpline is placed on the crown of the head — to be in line with the cervical spine — with the attached cargo resting on the small of the back.
While there is no evidence that the people of Chaco used tumplines to haul timbers, there is proof that they used them to transport other items, like water vessels.

To see if tumpline timber transportation was humanly possible, Kram and Wilson trained for three months during the summer of 2020, gradually increasing their load weight and walk duration. Strangers who passed by couldn’t hide their confusion.

On the final day, the pair walked 25 kilometers while carrying a ponderosa pine that had been air-dried, which is how the people of Chaco may have prepared timbers. The 60-kilogram log was 2.5 meters long and 24 centimeters in diameter. The entire trek took almost 10 hours, and the weight of the full timber only slightly slowed the duo’s pace.

“I felt happy at the end that it was proved feasible, and that the 132-pound log we shared was off our necks,” says Wilson, now a medical student at the University of Colorado School of Medicine in Aurora. But “I never really doubted that we could do it.”

When you’re stressed and anxious, you might feel your heart race. Is your heart racing because you’re afraid? Or does your speeding heart itself contribute to your anxiety? Both could be true, a new study in mice suggests.

By artificially increasing the heart rates of mice, scientists were able to increase anxiety-like behaviors — ones that the team then calmed by turning off a particular part of the brain. The study, published in the March 9 Nature, shows that in high-risk contexts, a racing heart could go to your head and increase anxiety. The findings could offer a new angle for studying and, potentially, treating anxiety disorders.
The idea that body sensations might contribute to emotions in the brain goes back at least to one of the founders of psychology, William James, says Karl Deisseroth, a neuroscientist at Stanford University. In James’ 1890 book The Principles of Psychology, he put forward the idea that emotion follows what the body experiences. “We feel sorry because we cry, angry because we strike, afraid because we tremble,” James wrote.

The brain certainly can sense internal body signals, a phenomenon called interoception. But whether those sensations — like a racing heart — can contribute to emotion is difficult to prove, says Anna Beyeler, a neuroscientist at the French National Institute of Health and Medical Research in Bordeaux. She studies brain circuitry related to emotion and wrote a commentary on the new study but was not involved in the research. “I’m sure a lot of people have thought of doing these experiments, but no one really had the tools,” she says.

Deisseroth has spent his career developing those tools. He is one of the scientists who developed optogenetics — a technique that uses viruses to modify the genes of specific cells to respond to bursts of light (SN: 6/18/21; SN: 1/15/10). Scientists can use the flip of a light switch to activate or suppress the activity of those cells.
In the new study, Deisseroth and his colleagues used a light attached to a tiny vest over a mouse’s genetically engineered heart to change the animal’s heart rate. When the light was off, a mouse’s heart pumped at about 600 beats per minute. But when the team turned on a light that flashed at 900 beats per minutes, the mouse’s heartbeat followed suit. “It’s a nice reasonable acceleration, [one a mouse] would encounter in a time of stress or fear,” Deisseroth explains.

When the mice felt their hearts racing, they showed anxiety-like behavior. In risky scenarios — like open areas where a little mouse might be someone’s lunch — the rodents slunk along the walls and lurked in darker corners. When pressing a lever for water that could sometimes be coupled with a mild shock, mice with normal heart rates still pressed without hesitation. But mice with racing hearts decided they’d rather go thirsty.

“Everybody was expecting that, but it’s the first time that it has been clearly demonstrated,” Beyeler says.
The researchers also scanned the animals’ brains to find areas that might be processing the increased heart rate. One of the biggest signals, Deisseroth says, came from the posterior insula (SN: 4/25/16). “The insula was interesting because it’s highly connected with interoceptive circuitry,” he explains. “When we saw that signal, [our] interest was definitely piqued.”

Using more optogenetics, the team reduced activity in the posterior insula, which decreased the mice’s anxiety-like behaviors. The animals’ hearts still raced, but they behaved more normally, spending some time in open areas of mazes and pressing levers for water without fear.
A lot of people are very excited about the work, says Wen Chen, the branch chief of basic medicine research for complementary and integrative health at the National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health in Bethesda, Md. “No matter what kind of meetings I go into, in the last two days, everybody brought up this paper,” says Chen, who wasn’t involved in the research.

The next step, Deisseroth says, is to look at other parts of the body that might affect anxiety. “We can feel it in our gut sometimes, or we can feel it in our neck or shoulders,” he says. Using optogenetics to tense a mouse’s muscles, or give them tummy butterflies, might reveal other pathways that produce fearful or anxiety-like behaviors.

Understanding the link between heart and head could eventually factor into how doctors treat panic and anxiety, Beyeler says. But the path between the lab and the clinic, she notes, is much more convoluted than that of the heart to the head.