What the ‘trash heap' penguins of Argentina are teaching us about survival
When Pablo 'Popi' Borboroglu first visited a remote stretch of shoreline along the eastern coast of Patagonia, in 2008, the National Geographic Explorer was surprised to find penguins making a home there. The Argentine biologist was responding to a call from a nearby rancher who had seen several of the flightless birds on his property. When he arrived, Borboroglu found trash, broken glass, abandoned cars, and burned-out campfires on the ground. 'The place was a disaster,' he recalls. 'It was full of garbage.'
Amid the squalor, however, under bushes and in small, cavelike burrows, he discovered something astonishing: 12 Magellanic penguins living among the debris. Each seabird was about one and a half feet tall, with a distinctive white band encircling its eyes and neck. While Magellanic penguins are known to breed in and around South America on rocky, sandy beaches before migrating each winter to the open ocean as far north as Brazil and Peru, the nearest established colony was located more than 80 miles south. Yet these intrepid travelers had arrived and coupled up, a sign that they were breeding on a beach teeming with hazards. The brown down feathers of king penguin chicks, seen here at Good Hope Bay on Marion Island, in the southern Indian Ocean, aren't waterproof, but the added insulation helps protect the birds from the cold until they molt around 10 months, when their sleek black and white feathers come in. PHOTOGRAPH BY THOMAS PESCHAK, NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC IMAGE COLLECTION
Borboroglu worked quickly, assessing the condition of the colony and freeing one bird that was entangled in plastic, and began the longer process of painstakingly cleaning and securing the area. The emerging colony not only survived but raised chicks, returning the next spring. Scientists have various theories as to why a so-called founder group like this ventures beyond familiar nesting grounds. But for Borboroglu, who went on to create the Global Penguin Society, an international conservation group, the new colony exemplifies the adaptability and resilience of all 18 penguin species, which inhabit some of nature's harshest environments, even as they continue to face new challenges in our changing world. 'They are so brave and determined,' he says of penguins as a whole. 'They're amazing.' A Galápagos penguin swims alongside a green sea turtle and a marine iguana in the cool, clear water near Fernandina Island. PHOTOGRAPH BY TUI DE ROY, NATURE PICTURE LIBRARY
Penguins are indeed amazing creatures. Their comical waddle, tuxedo-like appearance, and endearing parental instincts make them quintessential conservation icons. But these same characteristics also point to some of the ways they've evolved to confront extreme conditions with remarkable adaptability and grit. The first penguins appeared roughly 60 million years ago on what is now New Zealand. Some scientists believe the absence of natural predators allowed the birds to evolve away from flight and toward more agility in the ocean. Over time, they developed ample stores of fat and a dense, impermeable layer of feathers to withstand the cold; stunted wings serving as flippers to propel them underwater with stunning speed and efficiency; and distinctive black-and-white feather patterns to confuse predators.
Early penguins rode the currents across oceans, adapting to the new places where they landed. Emperor and Adélie penguins, for instance, settled in the unforgiving climate of Antarctica, and they have a thicker layer of body fat, scalelike feathers, and clawlike feet especially suited to gain traction on the ice. Galápagos penguins ended up on a chain of islands off the coast of Ecuador, becoming the only species found at the Equator. They now have smaller frames and thinner layers of plumage, which serve them well in the warmer climate. Historically, Magellanic penguins lived on islands off the coast of South America, but after sheep ranchers eradicated mainland predators such as pumas and foxes, the birds established colonies there too. 'Penguins vote with their feet,' says National Geographic Explorer Dee Boersma, a renowned penguin expert at the University of Washington. 'They go where the food is.'
But no matter how far they roam, many of the animals now face the same issues. About half the world's penguins are threatened with extinction, and last year the African penguin became the first to be classified as critically endangered. Today the threats come from sea and land alike. In the ocean, penguins must run a gauntlet of oil spills, algal blooms, fishing nets, and plastic pollution while warming waters and overfishing deplete their prey. On shore, where penguins mate and raise their chicks, they encounter hazards ranging from declining Antarctic sea ice to coastal development and introduced or resurgent predators. Over the past century, as penguin numbers faltered, the global conservation community and individual nations moved to safeguard the birds, banning egg harvesting and creating protected areas, allowing embattled populations a chance at continued survival. In the years since, conservationists like Borboroglu and Boersma have lobbied to create more protected areas for nesting and regulate shipping routes to reduce penguins' potential exposure to oil spills. From scuba diving to set-jetting
(How a penguin "massacre" led to historic new protections in Argentina.) Royal penguins, named for yellow plumes resembling crowns, are native to the Southern Ocean's Macquarie Island, where they live in large colonies, boosting their chances of finding a mate. Groupings have upwards of 500,000 breeding pairs. PHOTOGRAPH BY DOUG GIMESY, NATURE PICTURE LIBRARY
One startling finding among scientists is that penguins are no longer evolving as fast, limiting their ability to keep pace with the world around them. A recent study showed that penguins now have the slowest evolutionary rates of all birds. Still, some appear adept at leveraging their best traits and behaviors to continue pressing into new territory. Researchers have discovered that emperor penguin colonies relocate when sea ice in one area is no longer reliable, and satellite imagery recently revealed previously unknown colonies in Antarctica. Meanwhile, king penguins, smaller cousins to the emperors, are in decline in some of their habitat but rebounding in other places, after decades of being harvested for oil. And gentoos, closely related to Adélies, are following available food as the Southern Ocean warms and sea ice clears, allowing them to more easily hunt and nest in new areas of the Antarctic Peninsula. 'We're seeing new colonies established further and further south,' says Gemma Clucas, a researcher with the Cornell Lab of Ornithology.
The handful of Magellanic penguins that once popped up on the trash-strewn beach in Patagonia appear to have inspired others to settle in the colony. As Borboroglu worked with landowners and the local government to create a 35,000-acre wildlife refuge, more and more penguins arrived each year. Over 8,000 penguins now nest here. 'Its growth has been remarkable,' he says. 'It shows that nature can thrive if given a chance.' See more on Popi Borboroglu and his conservation work in National Geographic's upcoming series "Secrets of the Penguins", streaming April 21 on Disney+ and Hulu. A version of this story appears in the May 2025 issue of National Geographic magazine.
Hannah Nordhaus, a Boulder-based National Geographic Explorer, has written for outlets such as Scientific American and Smithsonian. In last month's magazine she wrote about imperiled sturgeons.
The nonprofit National Geographic Society, committed to illuminating and protecting the wonder of our world, funded Explorer Pablo Borborgolu's work. Learn more about the Society's support of Explorers.
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National Geographic
4 days ago
- National Geographic
Ticks are taking over city parks. Here's how to avoid them.
Lone star ticks (Amblyomma americanum) like the one pictured here were historically concentrated in the southeastern and south-central United States. But experts say they're creeping into unexpected new territories—including northern cities. Photograph by Joel Sartore, National Geographic Image Collection It's not just the hiking trail where you need to worry about ticks. These arthropods are now a problem in major cities—and they've brought disease with them. In the compact backyards of Staten Island, Maria Diuk-Wasser was surprised by what she saw. Ticks—and lots of them—nestled in wood piles, between leaves, and underneath bird feeders. It was more than she found in the previous year, and the year before that. Diuk-Wasser, a disease ecologist at Columbia University, had been tracking tick activity in the New York City borough for four years ending in 2021, and found that, year after year, ticks were expanding both in numbers and geographically. 'There were many more ticks in more of the parks, and more and more backyards,' Diuk-Wasser says. And early data suggest a similar phenomenon may be unfolding nearby in Queens and Brooklyn. What's happening across New York City is reflective of a larger trend: Tick populations are booming across the United States—as are tickborne diseases, like Lyme disease, which have more than doubled over the past two decades. And when there's an explosion of ticks, we inevitably see more of them crawling across cities, says Diuk-Wasser. Indeed ticks, as growing evidence shows, are an emerging urban threat. Here's what you need to know about where to find them—and how to protect yourself from tickborne diseases. How do ticks get into cities anyway? There are multiple species of tick, but in the United States, researchers are most concerned with four—the black-legged (deer) tick, the lone star tick, the dog tick, and the longhorned tick. Many have been venturing into regions they haven't historically called home, and they're multiplying. Back in Staten Island, for example, Diuk-Wasser and her team recently recorded a startling spike in deer ticks (long-term residents of the eastern U.S.), lone star ticks (which have historically been concentrated in southeastern and south-central states) and longhorned ticks (which were found for the very first time in the U.S. in 2017). 'They really spread in a matter of years. It was very fast,' she says. (Lyme disease is spreading fast—but a vaccine may be on the way.) Where guests are guardians But what's really alarming is the rise of the one species that causes Lyme disease—the black-legged deer tick. According to Diuk-Wasser, these arthropods can live in any area that's forested or contains leaf litter—the layer of dead leaves, twigs, and plant debris that provide ticks with the thick humidity they need to stay hydrated. That means a leafy park in the city can be just as attractive as the undisturbed woods they've commonly used as habitat. And ticks have moved into these parks by hitchhiking on the backs other animals. Ticks can exist wherever there are hosts—whether that be raccoons, mice, birds, squirrels, or possums. That's why you'll even find ticks in Central Park, a greenspace famously landlocked by concrete. But in order to truly thrive, ticks require deer. As such, the biggest factor that influences whether an urban tick community will swell is if there's a pathway for deer to enter. 'As long as deer visit, you will find ticks,' Diuk-Wasser says. For example, ticks were able to take up residence in Staten Island on the backs of the deer that swim to the borough from New Jersey. What's causing so many ticks to invade cities? Let's start with land use changes. Ticks long occupied the land where cities now stand, but were displaced in the 1800s as forests were knocked down for agricultural purposes—forced to go wherever trees were lush and leaves were moist. But as farming declined in the U.S. in the 1900s and people abandoned their pastures, areas near cities were reforested—and many towns and cities on the East Coast and up in the Great Lakes were built smack in the middle of those forests, says Nick Takacs, a Northeastern University biology professor who studies ticks. In the years that followed, wildlife—including deer and white-legged mice—returned, ticks in tow. 'We densely colonized a lot of their environments, so they had no choice but to adapt and live in the environments we shared,' Takacs says. Many of the animals that make for ideal tick hosts actually prefer to hunt and live near what's called "the edge"—the space where two habitats like the woods (that offer protection) and grasslands (rich with edible vegetation) collide. So as we've built sprawling cities near and in forests, wildlife has migrated to the edge and into nearby parks and backyards, transporting ticks with them, says Diuk-Wasser. It doesn't help that deer populations are multiplying due to increased hunting restrictions and fewer predators. The same is happening with mice. (This tick bite could make you allergic to red meat—and it's spreading.) At the same time, climate change is majorly impacting tick activity. Decades ago, ticks would die out come winter, but warmer weather has extended tick season. 'Adult ticks can be active in the winter if it's above 40 degrees, which happens all the time now,' says Diuk-Wasser. Additionally, regions that were once too frigid for ticks are now suitable for them. Until recently, deer ticks were mainly concentrated in the southeastern U.S., but they—and the pathogens they carry—moved north, planting roots all along the Eastern seaboard and into Canada. Ticks can now feed and breed year-round. They're proliferating—in rural spaces and urban ones. Even the deadly brown dog tick, which becomes more active and aggressive in extreme heat, is infiltrating California cities, says Janet Foley, a veterinarian and disease ecologist at the UC Davis School of Veterinary Medicine. Once found in rural desert areas, these ticks are finding places to thrive in cities that are getting both warmer and dryer. 'The hotter it gets, the more likely they are to feed on anything,' she says. How should you protect yourself from ticks in cities? The odds you'll be exposed to an infected tick in a city park is on par with the chance you'll run into one on a wooded hike. In some cities, roughly 20 to 30 percent of baby ticks (nymphs) are infected with the bacteria that causes Lyme disease, research shows. 'You do see cases where people acquired Lyme disease from urban parks,' says Foley. (How to protect yourself from ticks—and what to do if you're bitten.) 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National Geographic
4 days ago
- National Geographic
After 41 years in captivity, this celebrity sea turtle is finally swimming home
Jorge, a 60-year-old, 220-pound loggerhead turtle, is a unique case of an animal who spent so long in captivity, yet managed to reacquaint himself to his natural habitat. Photograph By Pablo E. Blasko By María de los Ángeles Orfila The waves were rough on the morning of April 11, but Jorge didn't hesitate. With steady strokes, the 220-pound sea turtle dove into the Atlantic Ocean—his first swim in open water in 40 years. After spending more than half his life in a shallow aquarium tank in Mendoza, Argentina, hundreds of miles away from the ocean, Jorge is doing what once seemed impossible: He has relearned his natural instincts as he makes his way to the warm waters of Praia do Forte in northern Brazil—the place he once called home. Watching Jorge's remarkable journey from afar is Mariela Dassis , a researcher at the National University of Mar del Plata who is in charge of his satellite monitoring. Dassis is overseeing the final phase of a meticulous three-year re-education and release project developed by several Argentine institutions to prepare Jorge, rescued as a juvenile in 1984, for life back in the wild. Jorge holds the record for the longest time spent in captivity of any sea turtle in the world. The first night, Dassis barely slept, anxiously waiting for Jorge to emit a signal. Now, more than 70 days into his oceanic voyage, she feels calmer because Jorge has already traveled over 1,700 miles and has less than 760 miles left to reach his destination—proving himself a true master of resilience. (Sea turtles are surviving—despite us.) Relearning the ocean life At 60 years old, Jorge, a loggerhead turtle (Caretta caretta), weighs about 220 pounds. He's spent more than half his life in a 5,300-gallon pool barely 1.5 feet deep, living on hard-boiled eggs and beef in water that was salted to simulate the ocean he lost when he was accidentally captured in 1984. That year, a group of fishermen found him entangled in fishing nets, injured, and cool-stunned in Bahía Blanca, a port city in the province of Buenos Aires and a frequent stopover for his species along the migratory route. (Meet the dog who can find rare sea turtle nests at a shocking success rate.) At the time, sea turtle rehabilitation and reintroduction were not common practice, so Jorge was put in a wooden box and flown to the Andes. In Mendoza, he became a celebrity: Families went to see him at the aquarium for decades, and even mayors handed over the responsibility of caring for him to their successors as they began their terms in office. Pressure to return him to the sea grew so intense that more than 60,000 people signed a petition for his release, and a group of environmental lawyers eventually filed a lawsuit in 2021. Jorge in his first enclosure shortly after arriving in Mendoza in 1984. He was caught in fishing nets earlier that year by a group of fishermen. Photograph Courtesy of the Municipality of Mendoza City The Mendoza Municipality took up the challenge of preparing Jorge for a return to the ocean, enlisting researchers from the Mar del Plata Aquarium, the Argentine Museum of Natural Sciences, and the Institute of Marine and Coastal Research at the National University of Mar del Plata. Together, they set a goal: to get Jorge swimming freely again. But could he survive the attempt? During those decades in captivity, Jorge's natural survival instincts faded, leaving him unfamiliar with hunting live prey or reacting to ocean currents—a dangerous handicap for any wild sea turtle. 'In three years, we managed to get him to recover the instinct he had almost lost,' explains marine biologist Alejandro Saubidet, who led Jorge's re-education—a rehabilitation that typically lasts a year and is designed for turtles that reach the coast with an injury or after ingesting plastic. 'We had to see if it was feasible to return him to the environment.' The first step was to re-adapt him to saltwater. Over several months, the salinity of the pool he lived in was gradually increased until it reached 3.3%, which is the equivalent to the salinity that loggerhead turtles can tolerate in their natural habitat. Blood tests accompanied this process to determine how well Jorge could excrete the salt; x-rays were also taken to assess the health of his joints. Once Jorge passed these tests, he boarded his second plane and flew to Mar del Plata, where a more comfortable pool awaited him, filled with seawater and kept at a controlled temperature between 68°F and 75°F. This temperature range was chosen to closely match the conditions he would encounter in the Atlantic Ocean during his first few months at sea. The pool held 40,000 gallons of water and was 10 feet deep. The amount of water was gradually increased to make sure Jorge would be able to reach the surface to breathe. Throughout the process, Jorge's diet also changed: Hard-boiled eggs and beef were replaced with live food, such as crabs and snails, which the turtle had to hunt. According to Saubidet, this wasn't easy. 'Little by little, we taught him to chase after prey,' he says. Other animals were later added to the pool to compete with him for food. 'The first time we threw in a ray, Jorge thought it was food and went after it, but when he saw it move, he got scared,' notes Saubidet. Over time, Jorge became a skilled hunter, started making more sounds, and even built shelters—just like loggerhead turtles do in the wild to rest, hide from predators, and protect themselves from currents. The researchers even created currents in the pool that Jorge became accustomed to. All of these behaviors indicated that Jorge was returning to his natural state, and each challenge he overcame prepared him for the great adventure that awaited him at sea. Jorge being released into the Atlantic Ocean on April 11. He's expected to travel about 2,500 miles to northern Brazil. Photograph By Mauro V. Rizzi / La Nación A beacon of hope for conservation Although it was already autumn, the water was still warm enough on April 11 for Jorge to orient himself and catch the current that would carry him to Brazil, his final destination—that is, unless he decides to settle somewhere else along the route. He left the aquarium with a rangefinder attached to his shell, boarded a ship belonging to the Argentine Naval Prefecture, and sailed 15 nautical miles into the Atlantic Ocean, where he finally touched the ocean for the first time in four decades. As fate would have it, it was a day of rough seas, and Dassis endured the anguish of not knowing anything about Jorge's whereabouts until 10 a.m. the next day, when the rangefinder emitted its first signal from offshore. Jorge was heading in the right direction: north, toward Brazil. 'The most beautiful thing of all is that Jorge shows us reintegration is possible," says Dassis. "Nature can find its place again." Since his initial release, Jorge has sent at least two signals a day, with an accuracy ranging from 500 to 3,300 feet. From this, researchers learned that in the first month, Jorge 'stepped on the gas' to cross the coast of Uruguay and enter Brazil, slowing down once he reached warmer waters. He's now swimming off the coast of Santa Catarina State. Laura Prosdocimi, a researcher at the Laboratory of Ecology, Conservation, and Marine Mammals at the Argentine Museum of Natural Sciences—who conducted the genetic studies that revealed Jorge's origin from a population of turtles in Praia do Forte—believes Jorge is returning to the nesting areas he knew as a hatchling and juvenile, just like adult specimens do. 'When Jorge entered captivity as a subadult, he already had much of the information about migratory routes,' she explains. The rangefinder is expected to keep working for at least another four months. By the time the battery dies, researchers will have gathered completely unprecedented information, as science has very little data on the movement patterns of male sea turtles, particularly of this species. 'Jorge is a unique case in the world,' says Prosdocimi, noting that there are no records of another animal that spent so many year in captivity and then adapted so well to life in the wild. 'He's already overcome the greatest challenges," says Dassis. 'And since he's still of reproductive age—Caretta carettas live to around 80, but they can reach 100—maybe we'll see some Jorgitos and Jorgitas.'
Vox
23-06-2025
- Vox
Watch: Videos reveal wildlife along the US-Mexico border and the impact of the wall
is an environmental correspondent at Vox, covering biodiversity loss and climate change. Before joining Vox, he was a senior energy reporter at Business Insider. Benji previously worked as a wildlife researcher. The border wall between the US and Mexico is, of course, a barrier meant to prevent human migrants from crossing into America as they seek work, family, or refuge from violence. It's also a significant barrier to ranging wildlife. The border wall, a centerpiece of President Donald Trump's agenda, cuts through a rugged, unique ecosystem home to hundreds of native species, from jaguars and pumas to black bears and deer. These animals often need to move to survive, whether to find a source of water or a mate. We know the wall is impassable for many species, potentially lowering their chance of survival. How exactly the border affects this rich ecosystem, however, has largely been a mystery. A new study, among the first of its kind, finally offers some answers — by essentially spying on animals near the border. For the research, ecologist and lead author Ganesh Marín, then a doctoral researcher at the University of Arizona, set up 85 motion-sensing cameras in northeastern Sonora, Mexico, along and south of the US border in Arizona and New Mexico. Throughout the course of the research, when animals walked by, the cameras began recording. Over roughly two years, from 2020 to 2022, the cameras captured hundreds of hours of footage, including more than 21,000 clips with mammals, said Marín, a National Geographic Explorer and postdoctoral scientist at the nonprofit Conservation Science Partners. 'This place is so special because you see these tropical species, like ocelots and jaguars, at the same time as beavers and black bears,' Marín told me earlier this year when I was reporting on borderland jaguars. Related These photos are literally saving jaguars Some of the recordings are pretty incredible. In this clip, for example, a young puma, or mountain lion, makes a chirping sound, likely calling for its mother. Courtesy of Ganesh Marín Or check out this jaguar approaching the camera. This particular cat is known as Bonito. Scientists first detected this cat in 2020 and can identify him by his markings. Courtesy of Ganesh Marín Marín's cameras detected another jaguar, as well, called Valerio. He was seen by cameras multiple times in a protected area known as Cuenca Los Ojos just south of the border in Sonora. Courtesy of Ganesh Marín The camera traps caught black bears and their cubs… Courtesy of Ganesh Marín Courtesy of Ganesh Marín …bobcats and coyotes… Courtesy of Ganesh Marín Courtesy of Ganesh Marín …and even an ocelot, an elusive predatory cat. Courtesy of Ganesh Marín Analyzing the videos ultimately revealed several important details about wildlife in the borderlands. Marín found that large mammals, such as black bears and deer, as well as some smaller herbivores, spend less time near the border than in other, more remote stretches of his study region. That suggests these animals avoid border infrastructure. Other species, like the pronghorn, which have been seen on the US side of the border, didn't appear in his cameras at all. That may be because they have trouble crossing a highway that runs roughly parallel to the border in Sonora, according to Marín and his co-author, John L. Koprowski, a biologist at the University of Wyoming. Meanwhile, smaller common predators like coyotes and bobcats appeared more tolerant to human activity: They were more likely to use habitats with cattle, cars, and dirt roads, according to the footage. The study adds to a growing body of research showing that the border and infrastructure around it is disrupting wild animal communities.
