A coiled giant anaconda. They are the largest snake species in Brazil and play a major role in legends including the ‘Boiuna’ and the ‘Cobra Grande.’ CREDIT: Beatriz Cosendey. Get the Popular Science daily newsletter💡 Breakthroughs, discoveries, and DIY tips sent every weekday. South America’s lush Amazon region is a biodiversity hotspot, which means that every living thing must find a way to co-exist. Even some of the most feared snakes on the planet–anacondas. In a paper published June 16 in the journal Frontiers in Amphibian and Reptile Science, conservation biologists Beatriz Cosendey and Juarez Carlos Brito Pezzuti from the Federal University of Pará’s Center for Amazonian Studies in Brazil, analyze the key points behind the interactions between humans and the local anaconda populations. Ahead of the paper’s publication, the team at Frontiers conducted this wide-ranging Q&A with Conesday. It has not been altered. Frontiers: What inspired you to become a researcher? Beatriz Cosendey: As a child, I was fascinated by reports and documentaries about field research and often wondered what it took to be there and what kind of knowledge was being produced. Later, as an ecologist, I felt the need for approaches that better connected scientific research with real-world contexts. I became especially interested in perspectives that viewed humans not as separate from nature, but as part of ecological systems. This led me to explore integrative methods that incorporate local and traditional knowledge, aiming to make research more relevant and accessible to the communities involved. F: Can you tell us about the research you’re currently working on? BC: My research focuses on ethnobiology, an interdisciplinary field intersecting ecology, conservation, and traditional knowledge. We investigate not only the biodiversity of an area but also the relationship local communities have with surrounding species, providing a better understanding of local dynamics and areas needing special attention for conservation. After all, no one knows a place better than those who have lived there for generations. This deep familiarity allows for early detection of changes or environmental shifts. Additionally, developing a collaborative project with residents generates greater engagement, as they recognize themselves as active contributors; and collective participation is essential for effective conservation. Local boating the Amazon River. CREDIT: Beatriz Cosendey. F: Could you tell us about one of the legends surrounding anacondas? BC: One of the greatest myths is about the Great Snake—a huge snake that is said to inhabit the Amazon River and sleep beneath the town. According to the dwellers, the Great Snake is an anaconda that has grown too large; its movements can shake the river’s waters, and its eyes look like fire in the darkness of night. People say anacondas can grow so big that they can swallow large animals—including humans or cattle—without difficulty. F: What could be the reasons why the traditional role of anacondas as a spiritual and mythological entity has changed? Do you think the fact that fewer anacondas have been seen in recent years contributes to their diminished importance as an mythological entity? BC: Not exactly. I believe the two are related, but not in a direct way. The mythology still exists, but among Aritapera dwellers, there’s a more practical, everyday concern—mainly the fear of losing their chickens. As a result, anacondas have come to be seen as stealthy thieves. These traits are mostly associated with smaller individuals (up to around 2–2.5 meters), while the larger ones—which may still carry the symbolic weight of the ‘Great Snake’—tend to retreat to more sheltered areas; because of the presence of houses, motorized boats, and general noise, they are now seen much less frequently. A giant anaconda is being measured. Credit: Pedro Calazans. F: Can you share some of the quotes you’ve collected in interviews that show the attitude of community members towards anacondas? How do chickens come into play? BC: When talking about anacondas, one thing always comes up: chickens. “Chicken is her [the anaconda’s] favorite dish. If one clucks, she comes,” said one dweller. This kind of remark helps explain why the conflict is often framed in economic terms. During the interviews and conversations with local dwellers, many emphasized the financial impact of losing their animals: “The biggest loss is that they keep taking chicks and chickens…” or “You raise the chicken—you can’t just let it be eaten for free, right?” For them, it’s a loss of investment, especially since corn, which is used as chicken feed, is expensive. As one person put it: “We spend time feeding and raising the birds, and then the snake comes and takes them.” One dweller shared that, in an attempt to prevent another loss, he killed the anaconda and removed the last chicken it had swallowed from its belly—”it was still fresh,” he said—and used it for his meal, cooking the chicken for lunch so it wouldn’t go to waste. One of the Amazonas communities where the researchers conducted their research. CREDIT: Beatriz Cosendey. Some interviewees reported that they had to rebuild their chicken coops and pigsties because too many anacondas were getting in. Participants would point out where the anaconda had entered and explained that they came in through gaps or cracks but couldn’t get out afterwards because they ‘tufavam’ — a local term referring to the snake’s body swelling after ingesting prey. We saw chicken coops made with mesh, with nylon, some that worked and some that didn’t. Guided by the locals’ insights, we concluded that the best solution to compensate for the gaps between the wooden slats is to line the coop with a fine nylon mesh (to block smaller animals), and on the outside, a layer of wire mesh, which protects the inner mesh and prevents the entry of larger animals. F: Are there any common misconceptions about this area of research? How would you address them? BC: Yes, very much. Although ethnobiology is an old science, it’s still underexplored and often misunderstood. In some fields, there are ongoing debates about the robustness and scientific validity of the field and related areas. This is largely because the findings don’t always rely only on hard statistical data. However, like any other scientific field, it follows standardized methodologies, and no result is accepted without proper grounding. What happens is that ethnobiology leans more toward the human sciences, placing human beings and traditional knowledge as key variables within its framework. To address these misconceptions, I believe it’s important to emphasize that ethnobiology produces solid and relevant knowledge—especially in the context of conservation and sustainable development. It offers insights that purely biological approaches might overlook and helps build bridges between science and society. The study focused on the várzea regions of the Lower Amazon River. CREDIT: Beatriz Cosendey. F: What are some of the areas of research you’d like to see tackled in the years ahead? BC: I’d like to see more conservation projects that include local communities as active participants rather than as passive observers. Incorporating their voices, perspectives, and needs not only makes initiatives more effective, but also more just. There is also great potential in recognizing and valuing traditional knowledge. Beyond its cultural significance, certain practices—such as the use of natural compounds—could become practical assets for other vulnerable regions. Once properly documented and understood, many of these approaches offer adaptable forms of environmental management and could help inform broader conservation strategies elsewhere. F: How has open science benefited the reach and impact of your research? BC: Open science is crucial for making research more accessible. By eliminating access barriers, it facilitates a broader exchange of knowledge—important especially for interdisciplinary research like mine which draws on multiple knowledge systems and gains value when shared widely. For scientific work, it ensures that knowledge reaches a wider audience, including practitioners and policymakers. This openness fosters dialogue across different sectors, making research more inclusive and encouraging greater collaboration among diverse groups. The Q&A can also be read here.

The eastern quoll (Dasyurus viverrinus) is a medium-sized carnivorous marsupial in the dasyurid family, and one of six extant species of quolls. Endemic to Australia, the species occurs on the island of Tasmania, and was formerly found across much of southeastern mainland Australia before becoming functionally extinct there in the 1960s. Eastern quolls are about the size of a small domestic cat and have a thick, light fawn or near-black, coat with white spots. They are solitary predators, hunting at night for their prey of insects, small mammals, birds, and reptiles. This fawn-morph eastern quoll was photographed in Upper Esk, Tasmania. Photograph credit: Charles J. Sharp Recently featured: Battle of Diamond Rock Drosera capensis Cucumis metuliferus Archive More featured pictures

Earlier this month, an anonymous rescuer brought a painted turtle (Chrysemys picta) with a strange injury to the New England Wildlife Center in Massachusetts: a perfectly round crater in its shell. Painted turtles are reptiles with smooth shells and bright yellow or orange markings found throughout North America, where they thrive in shallow freshwater. In fact, this reptile had made its home in a golf course’s water features, which helped clue-in the wildlife center’s employees on what happened.  The injured painted turtle was brought to the New England Wildlife Center in South Weymouth, Massachusetts. CREDIT: New England Wildlife Center via Facebook. “After assessing the injury, we are convinced there is only one logical cause, he was struck by a golf ball!” the New England Wildlife Center wrote in a Facebook post. “Thankfully, a good Samaritan noticed the injury and picked him up, bringing him to our hospital in a shoebox he happened to have from some old golf shoes. No word on if the turtle appreciated the irony of this situation.”  Based on the scar left behind, the painted turtle was likely injured by a golf ball. CREDIT: New England Wildlife Center via Facebook. After taking X-rays, animal experts confirmed that the impact had spared the turtle’s vital organs and spine by just a few centimeters. What’s more, the injury is likely old, given that new tissue  is already forming over the wound. The turtle is reportedly doing fine and the golf ball impact doesn’t seem to have caused long-term consequences besides a pretty unique scar. Just in case, the team will keep an eye on the turtle for a couple of days before releasing him “back to the links, where we expect he’ll be back on top of his game in no time.”  [ Related: Sea turtle with ‘bubble butt syndrome’ gets a 3D-printed custom harness. ] According to the Tamarack Wildlife Center in Pennsylvania, turtles are very resistant creatures and often bounce back from shocking injuries. However, they’re no match for cars, and are particularly vulnerable when they emerge from hibernation in the spring to search for resources and mates.  “As humans, we should always do our best to help out where possible,” the post concluded. “Whether it’s on the back 9 or on the roadways, turtles are very active this time of year. Keep an eye out and feel free to give us a call if you come across an animal in need of help!” The post Turtle’s mysterious injury caused by a golf ball appeared first on Popular Science.

James Gentz has seen birds aplenty on his East Texas rice-and-crawfish farm: snow geese and pintails, spoonbills and teal. The whooping crane couple, though, he found “magnificent.” These endangered, long-necked behemoths arrived in 2021 and set to building a nest amid his flooded fields. “I just loved to see them,” Gentz says. Not every farmer is thrilled to host birds. Some worry about the spread of avian flu, others are concerned that the birds will eat too much of their valuable crops. But as an unstable climate delivers too little water, careening temperatures and chaotic storms, the fates of human food production and birds are ever more linked—with the same climate anomalies that harm birds hurting agriculture too. In some places, farmer cooperation is critical to the continued existence of whooping cranes and other wetland-dependent waterbird species, close to one-third of which are experiencing declines. Numbers of waterfowl (think ducks and geese) have crashed by 20 percent since 2014, and long-legged wading shorebirds like sandpipers have suffered steep population losses. Conservation-minded biologists, nonprofits, government agencies, and farmers themselves are amping up efforts to ensure that each species survives and thrives. With federal support in the crosshairs of the Trump administration, their work is more important (and threatened) than ever. Their collaborations, be they domestic or international, are highly specific, because different regions support different kinds of agriculture—grasslands, or deep or shallow wetlands, for example, favored by different kinds of birds. Key to the efforts is making it financially worthwhile for farmers to keep—or tweak—practices to meet bird forage and habitat needs. Traditional crawfish-and-rice farms in Louisiana, as well as in Gentz’s corner of Texas, mimic natural freshwater wetlands that are being lost to saltwater intrusion from sea level rise. Rice grows in fields that are flooded to keep weeds down; fields are drained for harvest by fall. They are then re-flooded to cover crawfish burrowed in the mud; these are harvested in early spring—and the cycle begins again. That second flooding coincides with fall migration—a genetic and learned behavior that determines where birds fly and when—and it lures massive numbers of egrets, herons, bitterns, and storks that dine on the crustaceans as well as on tadpoles, fish, and insects in the water. On a biodiverse crawfish-and-rice farm, “you can see 30, 40, 50 species of birds, amphibians, reptiles, everything,” says Elijah Wojohn, a shorebird conservation biologist at nonprofit Manomet Conservation Sciences in Massachusetts. In contrast, if farmers switch to less water-intensive corn and soybean production in response to climate pressures, “you’ll see raccoons, deer, crows, that’s about it.” Wojohn often relies on word-of-mouth to hook farmers on conservation; one learned to spot whimbrel, with their large, curved bills, got “fired up” about them and told all his farmer friends. Such farmer-to-farmer dialogue is how you change things among this sometimes change-averse group, Wojohn says. In the Mississippi Delta and in California, where rice is generally grown without crustaceans, conservation organizations like Ducks Unlimited have long boosted farmers’ income and staying power by helping them get paid to flood fields in winter for hunters. This attracts overwintering ducks and geese—considered an extra “crop”—that gobble leftover rice and pond plants; the birds also help to decompose rice stalks so farmers don’t have to remove them. Ducks Unlimited’s goal is simple, says director of conservation innovation Scott Manley: Keep rice farmers farming rice. This is especially important as a changing climate makes that harder. 2024 saw a huge push, with the organization conserving 1 million acres for waterfowl. Some strategies can backfire. In Central New York, where dwindling winter ice has seen waterfowl lingering past their habitual migration times, wildlife managers and land trusts are buying less productive farmland to plant with native grasses; these give migratory fuel to ducks when not much else is growing. But there’s potential for this to produce too many birds for the land available back in their breeding areas, says Andrew Dixon, director of science and conservation at the Mohamed Bin Zayed Raptor Conservation Fund in Abu Dhabi, and coauthor of an article about the genetics of bird migration in the 2024 Annual Review of Animal Biosciences. This can damage ecosystems meant to serve them. Recently, conservation efforts spanning continents and thousands of miles have sprung up. One seeks to protect buff-breasted sandpipers. As they migrate 18,000 miles to and from the High Arctic where they nest, the birds experience extreme hunger—hyperphagia—that compels them to voraciously devour insects in short grasses where the bugs proliferate. But many stops along the birds’ round-trip route are threatened. There are water shortages affecting agriculture in Texas, where the birds forage at turf grass farms; grassland loss and degradation in Paraguay; and in Colombia, conversion of forage lands to exotic grasses and rice paddies these birds cannot use. Conservationists say it’s critical to protect habitat for “buffies” all along their route, and to ensure that the winters these small shorebirds spend around Uruguay’s coastal lagoons are a food fiesta. To that end, Manomet conservation specialist Joaquín Aldabe, in partnership with Uruguay’s agriculture ministry, has so far taught 40 local ranchers how to improve their cattle grazing practices. Rotationally moving the animals from pasture to pasture means grasses stay the right length for insects to flourish. There are no easy fixes in the North American northwest, where bird conservation is in crisis. Extreme drought is causing breeding grounds, molting spots, and migration stopover sites to vanish. It is also endangering the livelihoods of farmers, who feel the push to sell land to developers. From Southern Oregon to Central California, conservation allies have provided monetary incentives for water-strapped grain farmers to leave behind harvest debris to improve survivability for the 1 billion birds that pass through every year, and for ranchers to flood-irrigate unused pastures. One treacherous leg of the northwest migration route is the parched Klamath Basin of Oregon and California. For three recent years, “we saw no migrating birds. I mean, the peak count was zero,” says John Vradenburg, supervisory biologist of the Klamath Basin National Wildlife Refuge Complex. He and myriad private, public, and Indigenous partners are working to conjure more water for the basin’s human and avian denizens, as perennial wetlands become seasonal wetlands, seasonal wetlands transition to temporary wetlands, and temporary wetlands turn to arid lands. Taking down four power dams and one levee has stretched the Klamath River’s water across the landscape, creating new streams and connecting farm fields to long-separated wetlands. But making the most of this requires expansive thinking. Wetland restoration—now endangered by loss of funding from the current administration—would help drought-afflicted farmers by keeping water tables high. But what if farmers could also receive extra money for their businesses via eco-credits, akin to carbon credits, for the work those wetlands do to filter-clean farm runoff? And what if wetlands could function as aquaculture incubators for juvenile fish, before stocking rivers? Klamath tribes are invested in restoring endangered c’waam and koptu sucker fish, and this could help them achieve that goal. As birds’ traditional resting and nesting spots become inhospitable, a more sobering question is whether improvements can happen rapidly enough. The blistering pace of climate change gives little chance for species to genetically adapt, although some are changing their behaviors. That means that the work of conservationists to find and secure adequate, supportive farmland and rangeland as the birds seek out new routes has become a sprint against time. This story originally appeared at Knowable Magazine. Lela Nargi, Knowable Magazine Knowable Magazine explores the real-world significance of scholarly work through a journalistic lens. 0 Comments

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Tactical Takedown Score Details “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Tactical Takedown makes turn-based tactics feel as fast-paced as a John Wick brawl.” Pros Very original approach to TMNT Thoughtful characterization Fast-paced tactics Compact size is a plus Cons Repetitive missions A bit anticlimactic Buggy at launch “Why you can trust Digital Trends – We have a 20-year history of testing, reviewing, and rating products, services and apps to help you make a sound buying decision. Found out more about how we test and score products.“ Please link here Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Tactical Takedown is a shining example of how the way a game plays can completely change what it says about its characters. Growing up, my perception of New York’s finest reptiles was shaped by beat-em-ups. GameCube drawlers like Battle Nexus taught me that the boys were a bunch of rowdy goofballs. They were deadly, but sloppy. They aren’t the same turtles I find in the turn-based action of Tactical Takedown. There, I meet hyper efficient assassins who don’t waste a single movement. They aren’t just members of a squad who need one another to take out waves of enemies; each is a one turtle wrecking machine. I’m left to wonder just how devastating they must be as one unified band of brothers. Recommended Videos Fast-paced strategy makes Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Tactical Takedown’s turn-based action feel as active as an arcade brawler. Each level offers a jolt of arcade excitement that gives each turtle their chance to shine rather than treating them as interchangeable heroes. Its small scope leaves it vulnerable to bugs and repetition, but Tactical Takedown’s best quality is how much it’s willing to break the mold and offer a new spin on a familiar TMNT power fantasy. Together alone Rather than revisiting a scenario that’s been done to death, Tactical Takedown tries its best to steer away from TMNT clichés. It pits the boys against a new Foot Clan leader who is filling a void left behind by Shredder. Rather than tackling that threat together with a carefree attitude, we’re left with four brothers who have grown distant as each comes to terms with impending adulthood. The big shock is that the four of them never appear together during their mission, as an attack on the Turtle Lair takes out their communication system. Each one sets off on their own solo objective, only interacting with their bros through interstitial dialogue between missions. A broken Turtlecom turns out to be a perfect metaphor for a more human kind of distance. That may sound a little sacrilegious at first, but it’s a purposeful swing. The physical separation drives home how much the team is growing apart through the story. It’s a little sad, like waking up one morning and realizing that you haven’t seen the cousins you used to play all night with on Christmas Eve in years. We’ve so rarely, if ever, gotten to see a version of the Turtles that feels this lonely and introspective. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I walked away from Tactical Takedown with a new appreciation of their dynamic. Tactical Takedown isn’t a big licensed project and shouldn’t be approached as such. That separation isn’t played as a bummer, though. Instead, developer Strange Scaffold uses it to shine a spotlight on each hero. Every level has me playing as a specific Turtle, as they all work towards the same goal using their own skills and expertise. Michelangelo attacks the problem at a street level, taking out goons with his nunchaku. Donatello sticks to the sewers, Raphael dashes over rooftops, and Leonardo sticks to the subway like a real New Yorker. In any other Turtles game, these would be locations that every turtle would explore by the end of the story. Here, each feels like one of the hero’s turf, giving them a specific home field advantage that their other brothers don’t have. That builds to a climax you can probably see coming, but not in the way you’re expecting. We’re never quite given a moment where all four heroes are playable together, sharing a pool of actions and synergizing their skills with one another. There’s a much different interpretation of their union here that undercuts their individuality. It’s functional enough, but the finale feels less like a natural conclusion and more like a concession to not mess around with the core tactics formula too much. That philosophy makes for some repetition as each of its 20 levels plays out the same with little variation aside from swapping the hero. Strange Scaffold Tactical Takedown isn’t a big licensed project and shouldn’t be approached as such. It’s a micro indie from a studio known for playing things fast and loose. Like every Strange Scaffold game I’ve ever played before launch, I encountered some form of game breaking bug that will no doubt be fixed by the time you actually play it. A broken special attack that I could spam multiple times by hammering a button, reset levels due to a glitched “end turn” button, and a loadout menu that I could not for the life of me figure out how to edit. It’s not that I hold those issues against it much, just as I didn’t mind I Am Your Beast’s few game-breaking issues that halted my progress for a few days. They’ll get fixed promptly by a nimble team, but sometimes I wonder what just a little more time in the oven could do for some of the studio’s best ideas, whether it’s polishing them to perfection or having time to build in one more creative twist that snaps everything into place. All action Though there are limits to its compact nature, Tactical Takedown’s focused scope is its greatest asset too. Each bite-sized level drops a turtle onto a small grid-based map. Every few turns, a new piece of the map forms while another goes away. It’s built to feel exactly like an old beat-em-up in that way, with the screen scroll of an arcade game stopping to frame a brawl before prompting players to move on. It’s an ingenious way to bring the feel of those games to an entirely different genre. That same philosophy extends to its brilliant spin on turn-based combat, which takes a genre known for careful decision making and makes it feel like John Wick. Each Turtle has five moves that they can use on each turn and a whopping six action points that can be spent in any way. When playing as Michaelangelo, my initial skill set is largely about leaping around enemies. I can skateboard over a foe and hit them on the way over or dash past a few enemies with my whirling nunchucks. Even my most basic attack, a simple bonk, moves me to the enemy’s square once defeated. With six whole points to spend per turn, and more if I equip moves that replenish AP, I’m able to do a whole lot of damage in one go. There’s a maturity to the boys here reflected in precise strategy rather than drunken brawling. There’s a strategy to each turtle and the brisk four hour runtime gives me just enough time to perfect each over time. With Michaelangelo, I learn to chain my way through enemies by knocking my way through one so that I can directly move to another without spending a movement point. Donatello is more about shocking enemies to keep them in place and create distance between them, allowing him to pick them off from afar or trap them in poison sewer pits. Leonardo is more about standing his ground, creating stacks of evasion that allow him to survive in tight subway car melees. And Raphael is all about yanking faraway enemies to reposition them and boot them away. Each strategy is distinct and rewards mastery. Once I got the hang of each, I couldn’t believe just how much I could do in a turn. Sometimes I’d be greeted with a screen full of ninjas and assume that I couldn’t possibly take them all out. With careful enough positioning, I’d realize that I could punt a foe off an edge here to instantly kill it, slash another weak one to finish it off and get its AP, jump over to a pizza box to heal, and still have enough actions left to take out a few more enemies. All of this happens quickly in my brain. I don’t need to think about what to do next; I reflexively fire off actions one after another, often taking out a whole screen full of enemies in seconds flat. It’s like playing a beat-em-up, but somehow faster and more precise. It’s through that ironclad combat hook that my perception of the Turtles changes. While most TMNT games hone in on the teenage part, Tactical Takedown is concerned with the anagram’s N. Each one truly feels like a ninja here, dispatching enemies in the blink of an eye. If you cut out the bits of decision making between move selection, you’d be treated to a thrilling little sequence on every single turn that plays out like Oldboy’s hallway sequence. Strange Scaffold I do wish that there were a few more ways to really drive that point home outside from the fairly static gauntlet of fights that never really changes. Some levels can feel long, throwing out waves of enemies with little pace until they just suddenly end. Perhaps some bosses or stage hazards could have given me a few more ways to think about the most efficient ways to use my moves, especially since the difficulty winds up feeling flat even in its enemy-filled finale. There’s more room to grow the great seed Strange Scaffold has planted here if the studio decides to take the team for another spin one day. Even if it’s destined to be a one-shot, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Tactical Takedown is a welcome little addition to TMNT’s storied video game canon. In just a few short hours, it gave me a new appreciation of each individual bro by deconstructing the team dynamic and showing how each part of the unit functions on its own. There’s a maturity to the boys here reflected in precise strategy rather than drunken brawling. You can break up a team, but the mark of a strong family is its ability to fight through hell and back to come together again. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Tactical Takedown was reviewed on PC and Steam Deck OLED.

Morris, the Movie Star Alligator Who Appeared in ‘Happy Gilmore,’ Dies of Old Age Based on his growth rate and tooth loss, the 640-pound gator was estimated to be at least 80. He starred in movies and TV shows between 1975 and 2006 After starring in numerous movies and television shows, Morris retired in 2006 and lived out his final days at the Colorado Gator Farm. RJ Sangosti / MediaNews Group / The Denver Post via Getty Images Morris, the alligator who starred in Happy Gilmore and numerous other movies and TV shows, has died. In an announcement from the Colorado Gator Farm, where the beloved 640-pound reptile had lived for the last two decades, caretakers say the cause of death was “old age.” “He started acting strange about a week ago. Wasn’t lunging at us and wasn’t taking food,” says Jay Young, the farm’s owner and operator, while tearfully petting Morris’ head in a video posted on Facebook. Morris was nearly 11 feet long at the time of his death, according to another post the Colorado Gator Farm shared on Facebook. Based on his growth rate and tooth loss, Young estimates the gator was at least 80 years old. “While we knew this was inevitable, we are very saddened by his passing,” the Colorado Gator Farm writes. Morris was rescued from a Los Angeles backyard, where he was being kept as an illegal pet. He began his prolific career in 1975 and kept working until his retirement in 2006. His TV and film credits include Interview With the Vampire, Dr. Dolittle 2, Blues Brothers 2000, “Coach,” “Night Court” and “The Tonight Show with Jay Leno,” reports Thomas Peipert of the Associated Press. But he’s perhaps best known for Happy Gilmore, the 1996 comedy starring Adam Sandler as a down-on-his-luck hockey player who discovers his powerful golf swing. After Gilmore hits a shot in a tournament, Morris grabs his golf ball with his mouth. Gilmore confronts the alligator. “Give me my ball! Give it here!” he shouts, while waving his golf club in the alligator’s face. Morris responds by snapping his jaws a few times. After Gilmore tries unsuccessfully to grab the ball from the alligator’s gaping mouth, he sees the creature is missing one eye. Gilmore realizes it’s the same gator that bit off the hand of his mentor, Derick “Chubbs” Peterson (Carl Weathers). When Morris sprints into a nearby pond, Gilmore follows. After a brief tussle, Gilmore retrieves his ball from the gator’s mouth and holds it above his head as the crowd cheers. Later, he presents the alligator’s head to Chubbs, who is so shocked he falls backward through an open window to his death. On May 14, Sandler posted a tribute to Morris on Instagram.“You could be hard on directors, make-up artists, costumers—really anyone with arms or legs—but I know you did it for the ultimate good of the film,” the actor wrote in a caption accompanying a still from the movie. “The day you wouldn’t come out of your trailer unless we sent in 40 heads of lettuce taught me a powerful lesson: Never compromise your art.” He added: “I will miss the sound of your tail sliding through the tall grass, your cold, bumpy skin, but, most of all, I will miss your infectious laugh.” Sandler is working on a sequel to the film, called Happy Gilmore 2, which will be released on Netflix in July. Morris does not appear in the new film, since he died in the first movie. But his memory will live on. “We have decided to get Morris taxidermied so that he can continue to scare children for years to come,” the Colorado Gator Farm writes on Facebook. “It’s what he would have wanted.” The farm is located in Mosca, a small town roughly 200 miles southwest of Denver. Situated in the San Luis Valley, the farm is home to roughly 300 alligators, as well as snakes, lizards, crocodiles and tortoises, per CBS News Colorado’s Logan Smith. Young’s parents, Erwin and Lynne, started the operation as a tilapia farm in the late 1970s. They brought in baby alligators to clean up the dead fish, but as the reptiles grew, visitors began showing up to see them. Today, the farm serves as a refuge for unwanted, illegal and abused reptiles. Get the latest stories in your inbox every weekday.

Fossil Hunters Discover Earliest Known Footprints of a Reptile-Like Creature, Pushing Back the Timeline of Their Evolution A new study suggests two fossil trackways found in Australia were made by an early amniote, a group that today includes reptiles, birds and mammals Amateur fossil hunters discovered a trackway left by a creature that might have looked like the one in this illustration. The finding raises new questions about the evolution of the earliest reptiles. Marcin Ambrozik Scientists in Australia have identified the earliest known tracks of a reptile-like animal, suggesting these creatures walked the Earth millions of years longer than thought. The two trackways were spotted by builder Craig Eury and winemaker John Eason, who were fossil hunting along a river bed in eastern Victoria, Australia. “It was literally the footprints that caught my eye—the light hit the rock in a way that cast a shadow on the footprints,” Eury tells Jacinta Bowler and Annie Brown at the Australian Broadcasting Corporation. Both are now listed as co-authors on a new study of the fossils, published in the journal Nature last week.  John Long, a paleontologist at Flinders University in Australia and the study’s lead author, had enlisted amateur paleontologists such as Eury and Eason to look for fossils in the area. He was shocked when he saw what the two had found. The prints appeared to be from an early four-legged creature classified as an amniote, or an animal with eggs that contain “amniotic membranes” to protect the fetus. While the earliest amniotes looked like lizards, they ultimately gave rise to the branches on the animal evolutionary tree that became today’s reptiles, birds and mammals. Eason and Eury “hit the mother lode with this trackway,” says Long to Joel Achenbach at theWashington Post. “This is the oldest evidence in the world of amniote trackways—the lineage that will eventually end up as humans. It’s huge.” The scientists dated the fossil to between 354 million and 359 million years ago, which would mean that amniotes existed at least 35 million years earlier than previously thought. That places the creatures as having lived during the early Carboniferous period, a time when Earth was covered in trees, and vast deposits of coal were beginning to form. To conduct their study, researchers analyzed the two discovered trackways, which criss-cross on a 14-inch sandstone slab. The fossilized rock is covered in dimples from raindrops, hinting at a shower just before the tracks were made—and indicating the amniotes were likely moving on dry land, as some of the paper’s authors write in an article for the Conversation. The footprints also have claw marks, which are not seen in amphibian tracks, and they’re five-toed, another sign that points to amniotes. Some of them left long scratches from dragging the foot. 350 million year old reptile tracks Watch on Anthony Romilio, a paleontologist at the University of Queensland in Australia who was not involved in the study, disagrees with the assumption that the creatures were on land. “I see [tracks like these claw-like marks] across a variety of different animals, when the animal is supported by water,” he says to the Australian Broadcasting Corporation. For instance, the animals could have made the tracks by pushing off the ground in shallow water, then gliding until they landed to push off again, in a motion known as “punting,” as Steven Salisbury, a paleontologist at the University of Queensland, tells Nature’s Rita Aksenfeld. Long, however, stands behind his work. “In our opinion … the sharp claws digging in the second trackway are too precise to suggest they were digging or clawing the sediment underwater,” he adds to the Australian Broadcasting Corporation. The scientists also identified similar tracks found in Poland. Those tracks are slightly younger but are still record-breaking: They’re the oldest known reptile-like tracks in Europe, per the Conversation. Key questions about the track maker remain unanswered from the footprints alone. What the creature looked like, its exact size and traits such as whether or not it had a tail can’t be revealed by a trackway. To verify their findings, the researchers will have to “find body fossils—bones from these rocks—that can confirm the presence of amniotes so long ago,” says Erich Fitzgerald, a senior curator of vertebrate paleontology at Museums Victoria Research Institute who was not involved in the work, to Petra Stock at the Guardian. Nevertheless, he adds it is a “provocative discovery with potentially far-reaching implications.” Per Ahlberg, a paleontologist at Uppsala University in Sweden and a co-author of the study, tells the Washington Post that footprints, in general, are useful to paleontologists. “Footprints are fossil movie clips of living animals. You’re not looking at dead remains,” he says. “You’re looking at live animals doing their stuff.” Get the latest stories in your inbox every weekday.

Nature, Published online: 14 May 2025; doi:10.1038/d41586-025-01499-wTracks in Australia seem to be the earliest known prints of amniotes — a group that includes reptiles, birds and mammals.

Nature, Published online: 14 May 2025; doi:10.1038/d41586-025-01134-8Fossil evidence points to an earlier-than-expected timeline for when reptiles, members of the four-limbed group of animals called tetrapods, began to evolve.

Nature, Published online: 15 May 2025; doi:10.1038/d41586-025-01590-2The highs and lows of looking for ‘the one’ during a PhD. Plus, mice with a human gene grow bigger-than-usual brains and reptiles might have evolved 35 million years earlier than we thought.