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Rivers can fuel hurricanes, new USF study finds

Rivers can fuel hurricanes, new USF study finds

Axios11-07-2025
A new study from the University of South Florida finds that freshwater from nearby rivers can help supercharge hurricanes.
Why it matters: The findings add to growing evidence that river plumes can exacerbate coastal storms, underscoring the need to incorporate them into hurricane forecasts.
The big picture: Hurricane Idalia surged from Category 1 to Category 4 in less than 24 hours as it neared Florida's Big Bend in August 2023, a phenomenon known as rapid intensification.
Hurricanes Helene and Milton did the same. Each time, the abrupt spike made it harder for forecasters to assess the storms' impact.
Zoom in: Researchers studied a large plume of freshwater that stretched from the Mississippi River to the Florida Keys, and found that where it met saltwater, ideal conditions for rapid intensification were created.
The freshwater from rivers along the Gulf Coast created a thick surface layer that did not mix with the cooler saltwater below, keeping the surface water warm and potentially fueling storms.
What they're saying: "Our study demonstrates the value of considering the influence of river plumes on storm intensification," said Chuanmin Hu, a professor of oceanography at USF and one of the study's authors.
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The Sea Slug Defying Biological Orthodoxy
The Sea Slug Defying Biological Orthodoxy

Atlantic

time14 hours ago

  • Atlantic

The Sea Slug Defying Biological Orthodoxy

This week, a friend sent me our horoscope—we're both Gemini—from Seven Days, a beloved Vermont weekly, because, improbably, it was about the sea slug I'd been telling her about just days before. 'The sea slug Elysia chlorotica is a small, unassuming creature that performs a remarkable feat: It eats algae and steals its chloroplasts, then incorporates them into its own body,' the horoscope explained. Years ago I had incorporated this fact into my own view of the world, and it had changed my understanding of the rules of biology. This particular slug starts life a brownish color with a few red dots. Then it begins to eat from the hairlike strands of the green algae Vaucheria litorea: It uses specialized teeth to puncture the alga's wall, and then it slurps out its cells like one might slurp bubble tea, each bright-green cellular boba moving up the algal straw. The next part remains partially unexplained by science. The slug digests the rest of the cell but keeps the chloroplasts—the plant organelles responsible for photosynthesis—and distributes these green orbs through its branched gut. Somehow, the slug is able to run the chloroplasts itself and, after sucking up enough of them, turns a brilliant green. It appears to get all the food it needs for the rest of its life by way of photosynthesis, transforming light, water, and air into sugar, like a leaf. The horoscope took this all as a metaphor: Something I'd 'absorbed from another' is 'integrating into your deeper systems,' it advised. 'This isn't theft, but creative borrowing.' And in that single line, the horoscope writer managed to explain symbiosis—not a metaphor at all, but an evolutionary mechanism that may be more prevalent across biology than once thought. Elysia chlorotica is a bewitching example of symbiosis. It is flat, heart-shaped, and pointed at the tail, and angles itself toward the sun. Its broad surface is grooved by a web of veins, like a leaf's is. Ignore its goatish head, and you might assume this slug was a leaf, if a particularly gelatinous one. Sidney Pierce, a marine biologist retired from the University of South Florida, remembers his surprise when a grad student brought a specimen into his office in the Marine Biological Laboratory at Woods Hole, on Cape Cod, more than two decades ago. Photosynthesis requires specialized equipment and chemistry, which animals simply do not have—'yet here was an animal that's figured out how to do it,' he told me. He spent the next 20-odd years trying to find the mechanism. 'Unfortunately, I didn't get all the way to the end,' he said. No one has, as my colleague Katherine J. Wu has written. The algae and the slug may have managed some kind of gene transfer, and over time, produced a new way of living, thanks not to slow, stepwise evolution—the random mutation within a body—but by the wholesale transfer of a piece of code. A biological skill leaked out of one creature into another. All of us are likely leakier than we might assume. After all, every cell with a nucleus, meaning all animal and plant cells, has a multigenetic heritage. Mitochondria—the organelles in our cells responsible for generating energy—are likely the product of an ancient symbiosis with a distant ancestor and a microbe, and have their own separate DNA. So we are walking around with the genetic material of some other ancient life form suffused in every cell. And the earliest ancestor of all plants was likely the product of a fusion between a microbe and a cyanobacterium; plants' photosynthesizing organelles, too, have distinct DNA. Lynn Margulis, the biologist who made the modern case for this idea, was doubted for years until new genetic techniques proved her correct. Her conviction about the symbiotic origins of mitochondria and chloroplasts was a monumental contribution to cell biology. But Margulis took her theory further; in her view, symbiosis was the driving force of evolution, and many entities were likely composites. Evolution, then, could be traced not only through random mutation, but by combination. 'Life did not take over the globe by combat, but by networking. Life forms multiplied and complexified by co-opting others, not just by killing one another,' she wrote, with her son, in 1986. This remains pure conjecture, and an exaggeration of the role of symbiosis beyond what mainstream evolutionary theory would support; random mutation is still considered the main driver of speciation. Yet more scientists now wonder if symbiosis may have played a larger role in the heritage of many species than we presently understand. Phillip Cleves, a geneticist at the Carnegie Institution for Science who studies the symbiotic relationship between corals and their algae symbionts, told me how, as an undergraduate, he was blown away by the fact that corals' alliance with algae made possible ecosystems—coral reefs—that support a quarter of all known marine life. The algae cells live, whole, inside coral cells, and photosynthesize as normal, sustaining the coral in nutrient-poor tropical waters. 'I realize now that that type of interaction between organisms is pervasive across the tree of life,' he said. It's probable that the ancestors of all eukaryotes were more influenced by bacteria in their environments than modern evolutionary theory has accounted for. 'All animals and plants likely require interactions with microbes, often in strong, persistent symbiotic associations,' Margaret McFall-Ngai, a leading researcher of the role of microbes in animal development, wrote in 2024. These interactions, she argued, are so fundamental to life that the animal immune system should perhaps be thought of as a sort of management system for our many microbial symbionts. Although biology has been slow to recognize symbiosis's significance, she thinks this line of research should now take center stage, and could alter how all stripes of biologists think about their work. Cleves, too, sees himself as working to build a new field of science, by training people on how to ask genetic questions about symbiotic relationships in nature: When I called him, he was preparing to teach a four-week course at the Marine Biological Laboratory in Woods Hole on exactly that. Genomic research has only relatively recently been cheap enough to apply it routinely and broadly to all sorts of creatures, but now scientists can more easily ask: How do animals' interactions with microbes shape the evolution of individual species? And how does that change dynamics in an ecosystem more broadly? Elysia chlorotica is also a lesson in how easily the boundaries between an organism and its environment can be traversed. 'Every time an organism eats, a whole wad of DNA from whatever it's eating passes through the animal. So DNA gets transferred all the time from species to species,' Pierce told me. Most times it doesn't stick, but on the rare occasions when it does, it can reroute the fate of a species. 'I think it happens more than it's recognized, but a lot of times it's hard to recognize because you don't know what you're looking for. But in these slugs, it's pretty obvious,' he said. They're bright green. Still, attempts to understand what is happening inside Elysia chlorotica have mostly fallen short. Scientists such as Pierce presume that, over time, elements of the algal genome have been transferred to the slug, allowing it to run photosynthesis, yet they have struggled to find evidence. 'It's very hard to find a gene if you don't know what you're looking for,' Pierce said—plus, slug DNA is too muddled to parse a lot of the time. Slugs are full of mucus, which can ruin samples, and because the chloroplasts are embedded inside the slug cells, many samples of slug DNA end up picking up chloroplast DNA too. After years of trying, and at least one false start by a different lab, Pierce and his colleagues did manage to find a gene in the slug that was involved with chloroplast repair, hinting that a genetic transfer had occurred, and offering a clue as to how the animal manages to keep the plant organelles alive. But another research team showed that related species of photosynthesizing slugs can survive for months deprived of sunlight and actual food: They may simply be hardy. Why, then, if not to make nutrients, might the slugs be photosynthesizing? Perhaps for camouflage. Or perhaps they're stashing chloroplasts, which themselves contain useful fats and proteins, as food reserves. (Pierce, for one, is skeptical of those explanations.) Whatever benefit Elysia chlorotica derives from the chloroplasts, there couldn't be a leakier creature. It crosses the divide between plant and animal, one species and another, and individual and environment. I first read about the slug in a book titled Organism and Environment by Sonia Sultan, an evolutionary ecologist at Wesleyan University, in which she forwards the argument that we should be paying more attention to how the environment influences the way creatures develop, and how those changes are passed generationally, ultimately influencing the trajectory of species. While Elysia chlorotica is an extreme example of this, a version of it happens to us, and our bodies, all the time. Encounters with the bacteria around us reshape our microbiomes, which in turn affect many aspects of our health. Encounters with pollution can reroute the trajectory of our health and even, in some cases, the health of our offspring. Researchers think access to healthy foods—a factor of our environments—can modify how our genes are expressed, improving our lives in ways that scientists are just beginning to understand. We are constantly taking our environment in, and it is constantly transforming us.

Without weather forecasters, our canaries in the storm, expect disaster
Without weather forecasters, our canaries in the storm, expect disaster

The Hill

time4 days ago

  • The Hill

Without weather forecasters, our canaries in the storm, expect disaster

Before modern forecasting, hurricanes were mass casualty events. The 1900 Galveston Hurricane killed over 8,000 people, wiping out an entire city with a 15-foot storm surge. Less than a century ago, Hurricane Okeechobee killed over 2,500 Floridians in a tragedy that today would be largely preventable. We've come a long way since the days when hurricanes struck without warning. I know, because I helped develop the systems that save countless lives and give communities time to prepare. That was my job until February, when I was terminated by President Trump and Elon Musk's Department of Government Efficiency alongside hundreds of other scientists at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. Since then, I have continued my work in hurricane forecasting through Cooperative Institute research; however, the cuts left deep holes across NOAA's forecasting teams that've not been filled. This purge isn't 'cutting waste' — it is dismantling America's hurricane monitoring systems. At the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, I worked on the next-generation Hurricane Analysis and Forecast System. This system enabled emergency managers to issue timely evacuation orders during life-threatening hurricanes like Helene and Milton, helping prevent thousands of potential fatalities. Yet even with cutting-edge forecasting, Helene revealed new, urgent challenges. In the last decade, freshwater flooding surpassed storm surge as the leading cause of hurricane-related deaths. Helene's victims were coastal residents and mountain communities, caught unprepared by catastrophic inland flooding. Dozens more died — victims of power outages, delayed medical care and collapsed infrastructure in the days after the storm passed. If our warning systems don't evolve to keep pace with rapidly changing storms, Helene's damage may seem merciful compared to future disasters. Precisely when adaptation is most urgent, political decisions have systematically dismantled our protective infrastructure. Key vacancies remain across NOAA's local forecast offices, satellite operations and modeling teams — many of which are already stretched thin this hurricane season. Without continuous investment in modeling and surveillance, hurricane season, which officially began June 1, will become even deadlier and harder to predict. DOGE's decimation of the forecasting workforce unravels a century of progress in hurricane survival rates. While the full impact of these cuts won't be seen overnight, the damage will compound the longer these positions go unfilled. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration isn't just a research agency; it's America's first line of defense against natural disasters. Forecasting is the foundation of all response efforts. While scientists aren't knocking doors with evacuation orders ourselves, we're the ones telling first responders when, if, and whose doors they should knock on. When NOAA functions at full capacity, emergency managers have the tools they need to prepare their communities. NOAA's remaining scientists and National Weather Service forecasters will give their all this hurricane season to deliver the most accurate forecasts possible, but dedication can't make up for a system that's been hollowed out, and grit can only hold together this critical system for so long. Privatizing these forecasting services creates a dangerous 'pay-to-play' model for life-saving information. This approach wouldn't just create barriers for low-income families; it would hamstring small municipalities and volunteer emergency services trying to protect their communities. The private sector cannot fill this void. The National Weather Service processes over 6 billion observations daily and issues approximately 1.5 million forecasts and 50,000 warnings annually. No private entity possesses infrastructure that can match this scale and reliability. There is a better path forward. By recommitting to public science and restoring forecasters' positions, we can build systems that adapt to changing storms, accurately track flood zones and storm paths, and provide both inland and coastal communities with the advanced warning they need to stay safe. We owe this to every family who will face the next Helene or Milton. Congress must act urgently to restore NOAA's full operational capacity and reject all efforts to privatize these essential services. The FY26 federal budget proposes a $1.3 billion cut to NOAA's core operations, such as satellite programs essential to forecasting, programs supporting climate modeling and even public education. NOAA can't issue life-saving warnings if its data stream has gone dark. And the research that drives improvements in modeling and forecasting is threatened if some of the budget proposals come to fruition. There have been some positive developments from Congress. The House Republicans' fiscal 2026 Commerce-Justice-Science spending bill, announced on Monday, proposes a much-smaller cut of $387 million, bringing the NOAA budget to $5.8 billion. While it's a modest improvement, it still does not fully cover the financial needs of an agency tasked with protecting hundreds of millions of Americans. Hurricane forecasting shouldn't be treated like a luxury or a political football. It's public infrastructure that's as essential as our power grids or water systems. Storm surges don't check voter registrations before flooding homes, and hurricanes won't stop based on who occupies the White House. Without urgent action in this year's budget, we risk turning the worst-case scenario into reality. The question isn't whether the storms are coming. It's whether we'll be ready when they do.

‘Flesh-eating' bacteria linked to first Florida deaths of 2025; one near Jacksonville
‘Flesh-eating' bacteria linked to first Florida deaths of 2025; one near Jacksonville

Yahoo

time16-07-2025

  • Yahoo

‘Flesh-eating' bacteria linked to first Florida deaths of 2025; one near Jacksonville

In Florida, 11 people have contracted Vibrio vulnificus, the so-called "flesh-eating" bacteria, and four of them have died from it so far in 2025, according to the Florida Department of Health. As of July 11, two cases have been reported in Northeast Florida, including one that led to the death of a St. Johns County resident. The other three fatalities in Florida have occurred in Bay, Broward and Hillsborough counties. Last year, there were a record 82 cases and 19 deaths, most of them after October, when large areas of the state were flooded by back-to-back hurricanes Helene and Milton. Vibrio vulnificus requires brackish saltwater to spread. Nationwide, vibriosis from Vibrio vulnificus and other Vibrio bacteria causes an estimated 80,000 illnesses and 100 deaths every year, according to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC). What is Vibrio vulnificus? Vibrio vulnificus is a naturally occurring bacterial infection found in brackish seawater. People can contract it by exposing open cuts or wounds to the water or by eating raw or undercooked seafood. The FDOH did not specify the sources of the new cases. If the bacteria infect a person, they can cause the skin and soft tissue around a wound to quickly break down. Treatment may require limb amputation to stop the rapid flesh deterioration, and the infection can be fatal. Is there any 'flesh-eating' bacteria in Jacksonville? Locally, only one case has been identified in Duval County, but based on records by the Florida Health Department, no deaths have been reported in Jacksonville as of 2025. How many people have died from flesh-eating bacteria in Florida? Where? According to the FDOH, 4 people have died so far in 2025, as of Friday, July 11: Bay County: 1 Broward County: 1 Hillsborough County: 1 St. Johns: 1 Between 2008 and 2025, 178 people in Florida have died from Vibrio vulnificus, according to FDOH records. How many cases of flesh-eating bacteria have been reported in Florida? Where? According to the FDOH, 11 cases have been reported so far in 2025, as of Friday, July 11: Bay County: 1 Broward County: 1 Escambia County: 1 Hillsborough County: 1 Lee County: 1 Manatee County: 1 St. Johns County: 2 Santa Rosa County: 1 Walton County: 1 Latest conditions: Is the water safe to swim or fish near Jacksonville, Florida? More conditions: How is the water at Jacksonville's beaches? Where are the flesh-eating bacteria in Florida? The Vibrio vulnificus bacteria can be found in raw or undercooked seafood, saltwater, and brackish water, which is created when fresh water from a river or lake meets the salty water of the sea. Flooding spreads brackish water into places it doesn't usually get to, and people working in floodwaters during and after storms are susceptible. Vibrio vulnificus, while rare, can be life-threatening. Some Vibrio vulnificus infections lead to necrotizing fasciitis, a severe infection in which the flesh around an open wound dies. Without treatment, death can occur in just a few days. People with compromised immune systems, liver disease, or open wounds are at higher risk for Vibrio vulnificus, the FDOH said. What are the symptoms of Vibrio vulnificus or 'flesh-eating bacteria'? (WARNING: AN IMAGE BELOW MAY BE TOO GRAPHIC FOR SOME AUDIENCES) Common symptoms of Vibrio infection may include: Watery diarrhea, often accompanied by stomach cramping, nausea, vomiting, and fever. Bloodstream infection: fever, chills, dangerously low blood pressure, and blistering skin lesions. Wound infection, which may spread to the rest of the body: fever, redness, pain, swelling, warmth, discoloration, and discharge (leaking fluids). If you experience these symptoms after being exposed to floodwaters, seek medical attention immediately. Healthcare professionals can treat the infection with antibiotics, but in extreme cases arms and legs may need to be amputated to remove dead or infected tissue. "Many people with Vibrio vulnificus infection require intensive care or limb amputations," the CDC said on their site, "and about 1 in 5 people with this infection die, sometimes within a day or two of becoming ill." Do 'flesh-eating bacteria' actually eat flesh? No, but it does kill it. Vibrio vulnificus can cause necrotizing fasciitis that kills human tissue, including the skin and outer layer surrounding muscles, nerves, fat, blood vessels and organs. Calling it 'flesh-eating bacteria' is inaccurate, − though a common reference − because (1) it kills tissue, but does not eat it; and (2) it cannot penetrate intact skin, but must enter through an existing break in the skin. Can you get the flesh-eating bacteria from another person? "There is no evidence of person-to-person transmission of Vibrio vulnificus," the FDOH said. How can I avoid contracting Vibrio vulnificus? According to the FDOH and CDC: Avoid exposure of open wounds or broken skin to warm salt or brackish water, especially flood water, or to raw shellfish harvested from such waters. Stay out of the water, or cover your wound with a waterproof bandage. Immediately wash wounds and cuts thoroughly with soap and water after they have contact with saltwater, brackish water, raw seafood, or its juices. Seek immediate medical care if a wound develops redness, swelling, or oozing, or other signs of infection such as fever, increasing pain, shortness of breath, fast or high heart rate, or confusion or disorientation. Do not eat raw oysters or other raw shellfish. Eat shellfish promptly after cooking and refrigerate leftovers. Cook them thoroughly: Boil shellfish in the shell until the shells open and then for 5 more minutes, or steam them until the shells open and then for 9 more minutes. Boil shucked oysters for at least 3 minutes or fry them in oil for at least 10 minutes at 375 degrees. Do not eat shellfish that does not open during cooking. Avoid cross-contamination of cooked seafood and other foods with raw seafood and juices from raw seafood. Wear protective clothing (e.g., gloves) when handling raw shellfish. This article originally appeared on Florida Times-Union: Vibrio vulnificus: 1 dead in Northeast FL from flesh-eating bacteria

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