Do you remember the last day of school before summer break? The clock ticking down to the end of the day, and then that wild, wonderful feeling of freedom? You have all summer to do literally anything you want. 

Cut to summers in adulthood, where you blink and suddenly there are Halloween decorations up. What gives? Why do summers seem to last forever when you’re growing up but only a couple of days as an adult? Well in a new episode of Popular Science’s Ask Us Anything podcast, we explore just that.

Ask Us Anything answers your most outlandish, mind-burning questions—from the everyday things you’ve always wondered to the bizarre things you never thought to ask. So, yes, there’s a reason you can’t remember being a baby, and no, venomous dinosaurs likely weren’t a thing. If you have a question for us, send us a note. Nothing is too silly or simple.

This episode is based on the Popular Science article “Why did childhood summers feel endless?”

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Full Episode Transcript

Sarah Durn: What’s your favorite memory of summer breaks growing up?

Alex: My favorite childhood memory of summer was doing a slip and slide at summer camp. It was an epic, epic hill, and it was really fun.

Katie: I will always remember going to the library with my mom every single day as a kid in the summer. And I think after one summer of that, I had read every single Mary-Kate and Ashley chapter book in the library.

Max: We would go to Europe for a week or two. We had a family friend who had a big house in France, so I spent a lot of my years learning to swim in a big pool in a house in France. Honestly, summer holidays felt endless to me. They went on and on, and then suddenly they stopped.

SD: Welcome to Ask Us Anything from the editors of Popular Science, where we answer your questions about our very weird world, from “What is storm chasing really like?” to “Why can’t we remember being babies?” No question is too offbeat or banal. I’m Sarah Durn, an editor at Popular Science. 

Annie Colbert: And hello, I’m editor-in-chief Annie Colbert.

SD: Here at PopSci, we’re always pondering the weirdest, quirkiest questions.

AC: And this week, we’re going back in time. So Sarah, please tell us, what’s with those seemingly never-ending summer break vibes when we were kids, and why do summers seem to whiz by now that we’re adults?

SD: Well, the short answer is your brain is kind of playing tricks on you.

AC: Ugh, rude.

SD: I know, but it’s not totally in a bad way. Scientists say childhood summers may have felt longer because your brain was literally experiencing time differently.

AC: Okay, hold on. Are we talking nostalgia? Like, things felt better when I was 10 and covered in sunscreen and popsicle juice?

SD: No, not just nostalgia.

This is actually about memory, novelty, and the fact that when you’re a kid, almost everything is happening for the first time.

AC: Hmm. Okay, so first bike ride, first summer camp crush, first gross encounter with a public pool bathroom.

SD: Exactly. For good and for bad. 

AC: Yes. 

SD: And weirdly, all those firsts may have stretched summer in your memory.

AC: So you’re telling me that adulthood feels faster because I’ve simply seen too many Tuesdays.

SD: Yeah, kind of. We’re gonna get into why summers seem to vanish once you grow up, and whether there’s actually anything we can do to make it feel a little slower again.

AC: Yes, please. I would like August to stop arriving in like seven minutes.

SD: I know. Very much same. 

Now, before we time travel back to summer vacation, we want to hear from you. What questions are keeping you curious? Is there something weird, wonderful, or wildly specific you’ve always wanted to know? 

Submit your question by clicking the “Ask Us” link at popsci.com/ask. Again, that’s popsci.com/ask, and you want to click the “Ask Us” link.

AC: Yes, send us your wildly specific questions.

SD: And with that, we’ll be right back after a quick break to talk about why time starts zooming the moment you become responsible for buying your own sunscreen.

Welcome back. Okay, Annie, before we get into the science, I feel like we have to start at the beginning. What’s your favorite childhood summer memory?

AC: I definitely had a very ’90s kid summers of watching “The Price Is Right.” I would be running free in the neighborhood, eating whatever snacks I could find in our kitchen. We are not a snacks household, so it was a lot of, like, saltines and peanut butter. 

And I remember one summer that my brother and I found Pong buried in our basement. Pong, of course, being one of the first video games, and he beat me something like 74 games in a row because, one, he’s six years older than I am, but also, two, I’m terrible at video games.

But it was a really fun summer. I got to hang out with him. I was free. We just did whatever we wanted.

SD: Aw. Yeah, I mean, very similar. Also love “The Price Is Right.” I would watch it all the time with my grandmother right at 11:00 a.m.. Also too, I have the same experience of playing Halo one-on-one against my brother.

AC: Yes.

SD: I’d always wanna play campaign, but he’d wanna play against me, and he’d always kill me in, like, three seconds.

AC: Yep.

SD: It was fun for him, but not so fun for me.

AC: It was just fun to be there.

SD: Yeah. I think for me, like, what I remember is less one thing. It’s more, like, the feeling of summer break.

AC: Mm.

SD: Like, school would end, and suddenly life would seem different. One day you’re doing worksheets, and then the next day, you know, total liberation.

AC: The vibes shift immediately.

SD: Immediately. Suddenly you’re sleeping in, running around outside, eating popsicles at weird hours. I remember summer just feeling huge, like I had endless time.

I’d get my summer reading list and think, “Oh, I have forever to do this.”

AC: Oh, the optimism of June.

SD: Yeah, exactly. And then August would roll around, and I’d be panic-reading some deeply boring assigned novel thinking, “Wow, nothing stretches time quite like terrible summer reading.”

AC: Yes. Honestly, reading one chapter of required summer reading felt like surviving an entire fiscal quarter now.

SD: Right?

AC: Yeah.

SD: But here’s the weird thing. As adults, summer suddenly feels absurdly short. Like, you blink and it’s somehow already Halloween.

AC: Yes. Every year I’m like, “Wait, didn’t summer just start?”

SD: Exactly. And according to researchers, this isn’t just nostalgia messing with us. Our brains genuinely experience time differently as a kid.

AC: Okay, but how? Because this all feels deeply unfair.

SD: I know. So the short answer is memory. According to time perception researcher Dr. Marc Wittmann, our sense of how long a period of time lasts mostly comes down to how much we actually remember.

AC: Wait, so childhood summers felt long because we remember more of them?

SD: Exactly. Your brain is kinda doing a retrospective highlight reel, and when you look back on a stretch of time, your brain asks, “How much happened here?” And in childhood, the answer is a ton. You know, almost everything is new. First beach trip, first sunburn, first time discovering your neighborhood ice cream truck schedule like you’re 007.

And novelty matters because new experiences are much more likely to get stored in your memory. Dr. Whitmann basically says childhood is one long parade of firsts. When something surprises us or feels emotionally meaningful, the brain flags it like, “Okay, this matters. Save this.”

AC: Hmm. So if you’re a kid, summer isn’t just long because you have time off. It feels long because your brain is recording everything.

SD: Exactly. And there’s another layer to this. Kids’ brains are actively changing while all of this is happening. Dr. Whitmann points out that every year of childhood is wildly different developmentally. You’re growing physically, emotionally, cognitively.

His point is basically every year a child is kind of becoming a new person.

AC: Which totally tracks. I look at middle school photos of myself and I’m like, “Who is she?”

SD: Oh, I know. Completely. She’s an enigma.

AC: Yes.

SD: So your childhood summers aren’t just packed with novelty, they’re happening inside a rapidly changing brain that’s super primed to encode memories, which makes those seasons feel fuller and richer in hindsight.

AC: Okay, that all makes sense, but I have to ask about the theory everyone says online, the whole, well, when you’re five, a year is 1/5th of your life, but when you’re 50 it’s 1/50th.

SD: Yeah, yeah, the math explanation. Dr. Whitmann basically says that doesn’t totally track. While it sounds intuitively satisfying, he says there’s no evidence your brain is doing that calculation.

AC: Got it. 

SD: Instead, the better explanation seems to be adulthood gets repetitive. We’ve seen summers before. You know the drill, work, vacation, barbecue, suddenly September.

AC: Rude, but fair.

SD: Yeah, and because fewer experiences feel truly novel, your brain stores less information. So when you look back, there’s just less there to mark the passage of time.

The summer didn’t vanish, it just left behind fewer memory breadcrumbs.

AC: Wow. That’s kind of existential.

SD: Yeah, and it gets slightly more existential.

AC: Ooh, fantastic.

SD: I know. So Dr. Whitmann’s newer research found something surprising when he looked at memory and aging. Older adults didn’t actually describe memories as blurrier or less vivid.

In some cases, memories felt richer and more emotional. What changes is the brain becomes worse at encoding the ordinary everyday stuff.

AC: Like Tuesday.

SD: Exactly. And apparently this decline can start surprisingly early, around our 30s, and gradually ramps up, which might help explain why people suddenly wake up and go, “Wait, how has it been 10 years?”

AC: No, I reject this information.

SD: Yeah, you and me both. But there is good news.

AC: Please tell me the good news.

SD: Researchers think we can kind of hack this effect, or at least slow it down.

AC: Okay. Everybody lean in. I want to hear it.

SD: Yeah, me too. Dr. Whitmann says what matters is novelty. New places, new people, new experiences, even tiny ones.

Take a different walking route, try a weird hobby, go somewhere unfamiliar. Eat at a restaurant you keep saying you’ll try. Basically, give your brain more material.

AC: So you’re saying I just need to do more new things.

SD: Basically, but with one caveat. Dr. Whitmann warns against turning this into a to-do list. Don’t schedule every second of your Saturday trying to maximize memories, because if you’re sprinting between activities, time weirdly speeds up again. He basically recommends staying open to what comes, like wake up, pay attention to how you feel, and just kind of see where the day goes.

AC: Okay. Unexpected science-backed permission to wander around aimlessly and get iced coffee. This is actually how I’ve been navigating New York City for years, so I am glad that it is helping my memory.

SD: There you go. You’re already way ahead of the game. 

Honestly, my favorite quote from Dr. Whitmann in our story was, “Emotions are basically the glue for memory.” The more emotionally meaningful something feels, the more likely it sticks.

So maybe the goal isn’t recreating childhood summers, maybe it’s making more room for experiences that feel important enough to remember, even if it’s just, you know, reading in a park.

AC: That’s beautiful.

SD: I know. Thank you, neuroscience.

AC: I’m feeling inspired to go outside and find something new.

SD: Same. And with that, we’ll be right back after this quick break.

You know, Annie, this whole conversation about memory actually reminded me of a story you recently edited by Jordan Burchette about documenting everything.

AC: Ah, yes. A story that forced me to confront the fact that my phone contains approximately 30,000 photos, many of which are screenshots I was absolutely convinced I would need later.

SD: And have you ever looked at them again?

AC: No. No. No, not really. That’s future Annie’s problem when I run out of storage.

SD: Yes. Well, according to Jordan’s reporting, psychologists actually have a name for this whole phenomenon, right?

AC: Yes, they do. It’s called cognitive offloading, which sounds like something you would do after a stressful meeting.

But really it just means using external tools to help your brain remember things.

SD: So kinda like iCalendar or Outlook remembering your appointments and meetings?

AC: Yes, absolutely. So cognitive offloading is basically letting technology act as a second brain.

SD: Which sounds kind of good?

AC: Yes. Honestly, sometimes it is.

Researchers say it can free up mental bandwidth. Instead of spending energy remembering a dentist appointment three weeks from now, your brain can focus on whatever’s happening right in front of you.

SD: Okay, so my phone is helping me become a more evolved human?

AC: No, no, no. Let’s not get carried away. Yes. Because Jordan’s story also gets into the downsides. If your brain knows information has been safely stored somewhere else, it may put less effort into remembering it.

SD: Okay, so when I take 75 photos of a concert—

AC: Yeah, your brain may decide, “Great, the camera’s got this. I’m heading out.” 

Researchers even have a term for this. It’s called digital amnesia. The basic idea is that when we know the information is saved somewhere, we’re often less likely to remember it ourselves.

SD: Okay, so all those screenshots I save and never revisit might actually be making me worse at remembering things?

AC: Potentially. Although, I think the bigger issue here is that someday archaeologists are going to uncover your camera roll and wonder why humans are so obsessed with recipes they never cooked.

SD: Yes. Honestly, that’s very fair.

AC: And the experts Jordan spoke with aren’t saying that we should stop using technology. The point is that there’s a trade-off. You gain convenience and accuracy, but sometimes it’s at the cost of your own recall.

SD: Okay, so maybe the move is not documenting literally every second of our lives.

AC: Exactly. One of the researchers even suggested that a lot of us probably over-document. Sometimes it’s okay to take fewer photos, put the phone away, and just be present for the thing that’s happening.

SD: Which feels weirdly connected to everything we talked about today.

AC: It does. If childhood summers felt long because they were packed with memorable experiences, maybe we don’t need to spend every moment recording life. Maybe we need to spend a little more time actually living it.

SD: Okay. Wow. This episode has been so profound.

AC: I contain multitudes.

SD: And so many screenshots.

AC: So very many screenshots.

And that’s it for this episode. But don’t worry, we’ve got more episodes of Ask Us Anything live in our feed right now. Follow or subscribe to Ask Us Anything by Popular Science wherever you enjoy your podcasts. And if you like our show, leave a rating and a review.

SD: Do you have a favorite summer camp memory?

Let us know in the comments. Our producer is Alan Haburchak. This week’s episode was based on articles written for Popular Science by Jennifer Byrne and Jordan Burchette, and you’ll find links to read those stories in the show notes.

AC: Thank you, team. Thank you, summer camp. Thank you, “The Price is Right.” And thank all of you for listening.

SD: And one more time, if you want something you’ve always wondered about explained on a future episode, go to popsci.com/ask and click the “Ask Us” link. Until next time, follow the vibes to something unexpected or, you know, iced coffee.

AC: Iced coffee and Bob Barker. That’s my dream summer now. Little Jerry Springer sprinkled in. Boop, ba-da-boop, boop, boop.

The post Why summer flies by as an adult—but lasted forever when you were 10 appeared first on Popular Science.

You can learn a lot about a society from the way they raise children. That includes not only what children learn, but how, when, and where they play.

Our modern concept of childhood emerged during the Enlightenment movement of the 18th century. Influential figures like philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau promoted the idea that children need special opportunities to explore and express themselves through playtime. 

Before then, children were treated essentially as small adults. Of course, kids in ancient or medieval times liked to run around and play as much as kids today, and they did so wherever they could. But only after childhood became thought of as a distinct stage of life with unique needs did adults start to design spaces like playgrounds.

When we look at the history of playgrounds, we can see how ideas about children’s play have changed over time.

The first playgrounds weren’t for children

The term “playground” predates the modern definition and was first used “to describe a general place of recreation,” Jon Winder, a historian of urban environments at the University of Liverpool in the UK, tells Popular Science. Winder explains that the modern children’s playground originated in 1840s England, when parks in the cities of Manchester and Salford set aside areas for children’s activities. 

The park designers were influenced by earlier German education reformers like Friedrich Fröbel, who outfitted his schools with sandboxes for young students. Best-known for coining the term “Kindergarten,” Fröbel believed that cooperative outdoor play was essential to children’s development.

In the 19th century, “there was quite a lot of sharing of ideas between the UK and Europe” regarding social issues like education and public health, says Winder. The massive changes wrought by the Industrial Revolution, including an ever-growing urban population, brought with them concerns about how these changes were affecting adults and children alike. 

Early children’s playgrounds were meant to get kids off city streets

While rural children could still play in fields and forests, working-class urban children often played in the street, exposed to a variety of dangers. Adding children’s playgrounds to cities “was partly about removing [children] from the street” for their safety, says Winder. However, “that idea merged with these ideas about recreation, that there was something inherent about city life that led to physical degeneration of people.” 

The perceived negative effect of city living was considered a potential threat to the British Empire, which needed strong, healthy citizens. Gymnastic exercise regimens like Pilates became the health craze of the time. What people thought was best for adults extended to children, and “the spaces that were set aside for children to play in invariably also had gymnastic equipment,” says Winder.

The first playgrounds were not for fun

Some of the equipment in those first 19th century playgrounds resembles what we might see in an Olympic gymnast’s routine today, such as vaulting horses and climbing rings. Winder points out the absurdity of children being expected to know how to safely and effectively use such things. However, he explains, “It wasn’t about play as we would understand it. It was about physical exercise and strength.” Playgrounds were less about imagination and more about “wholesome strengthening exercises.”

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Winder notes that these early athletic playgrounds were also used to enforce Victorian gender norms. Not only were the first playgrounds separated by gender, he explains, “They had different equipment in them, because social reformers thought that girls and boys were capable of different types of physical exercise.” While a girls’ playground might have space for hopscotch and shuttlecock, boys would get more physically challenging equipment like ladders and climbing ropes. 

Furthermore, the design of the first playgrounds seemed intended to keep children themselves conveniently out of sight. Winder noted in 2022 that the first English playgrounds in Manchester “were hidden in the shrubbery on the boundary of the park, to prevent them from spoiling the view of the picturesque landscape.” 

Playgrounds spread around the world

As playgrounds spread to other cities in the UK and continental Europe, British companies began to mass-manufacture playground equipment. The reach of the British Empire meant that such equipment could be exported as far afield as South Africa and New Zealand, bringing with it contemporary ideas about what playgrounds were for.

American social reformers and urban planners soon joined the international conversation. “There were playground campaigners in the UK who were in correspondence with some of the organizations in the U.S.,” says Winder. “They swapped letters and did site visits.” 

American educator Henry Barnard drew up plans for a playground as early as 1848. It featured rotary swings, blocks, toy carts, and a shaded area for teachers to keep watch from. However, the first public playgrounds in the United States weren’t built until the late 1880s, with both Boston and San Francisco claiming the record. 

Following the earlier British model of the playground as a place to work out more than to play, Boston’s children’s playgrounds were part of a larger “open-air gymnasium” for all ages, and were separated by gender. 

However, there were some differences between American and European playgrounds. Early American playgrounds often featured adult facilitators who led athletic activities, something like modern gym teachers, as well as indoor activity spaces for bad weather. And as public playgrounds spread throughout the United States, racial segregation (both legal and de facto) was enforced in many such spaces until the 1950s. 

Putting the “play” back in playground

In 1921, industrialist Charles Wicksteed opened Wicksteed Park in Kettering, England, which Winder calls “a big, significant shift in the development of these children’s spaces.” Unlike earlier public playgrounds, Wicksteed Park emphasized amusement over exercise. Decked out with an ever-evolving range of equipment, as well as a theater, fountains, and refreshment areas, the space was designed to be enjoyed equally by boys, girls, and adults.

Rather than having gymnastics equipment, Wicksteed debuted some new kinds of playground equipment at his park based on fairground rides, such as the first playground slides, which were inspired by early roller coasters. 

Wicksteed is also credited with designing the modern playground swing, after the homemade swings that children had previously hung from trees (or even street lamps). Wicksteed sold his equipment to other parks, and the influence of Wicksteed Park spread far and wide. 

By the 1930s, says Winder, many designers had begun to accept the idea that “playgrounds perhaps needed to be fun to attract children and get them off the street.” While the playground was still seen as a place for children to get physical exercise in the 20th century, it increasingly became a site of entertainment.

The playground’s present and future

Both playground equipment and our perception of playgrounds have become more focused on fun over time. However, this also means that specific manufactured equipment has become increasingly viewed as essential to the playground. Today, park and school administrators may feel pressured to buy the right products to make a playground feel complete. Is it really a playground if there’s no slide or swing set?

Winder identifies a tension between equipment that stimulates creativity, and the constraints of budget and practicality. Kids can do a lot more with sand than with a set of swings, but it’s also a lot more work to keep clean and tidy.

But as ideas about education and the role of play in children’s lives have continued to evolve, the 20th century has also seen an increase in playgrounds that integrate more thoughtfully with the space around them. 

Dutch architect Aldo Van Eyck transformed hundreds of abandoned urban spaces into unique playgrounds designed to inspire children’s natural creativity, without dividing them from the rest of the environment, like the first Victorian playgrounds.

Designing playgrounds “was never about making city streets better places to play,” says Winder. “It was about removing kids from the street and segregating them into one place.” 

Winder advocates for urban design that “creates a more balanced relationship between people and vehicles on streets.” With more pedestrian-friendly spaces meshed into urban environments, children can be safe to let their imaginations run wild, whether that’s in a playground, in a park, or in other places set up for foot traffic.

“Kids are inherently playful,” says Winder, and they’ll find ways to play wherever they are. The challenge for adults has always been to try and get them to play the way we want them to.

In The History of Every Thing, Popular Science uncovers the hidden stories and surprising origins behind everyday things.

The post The first playgrounds were for adults, not kids appeared first on Popular Science.

Cows are not necessarily known for their intelligence, but that less-than-stellar reputation is beginning to change. A 13-year-old pet cow in Austria named Veronika uses brooms to scratch her back, which qualifies as a form of tool use. Tool use is considered a general marker for intelligence in animals. The domestic cow species that live in close contact with humans are also highly social animals, another sign of intelligence. 

New research finds that one domestic species of cow (Bos taurus taurus) can recognize humans and distinguish between them. The cows show a visual preference for new human faces and can match a known handler’s voice to their face. The findings are detailed in a small study published today in the journal PLOS One.

To see whether cows can discriminate between familiar and unfamiliar faces, the team collected data from 32 Prim’Holstein cows. This breed originated in Holland and is the most common dairy cow breed in France. In one single lactation, they can generate about 22,000 pounds of milk. 

The team played videos of familiar and unfamiliar male faces with the sound off for the cows, and measured how long the animals looked at the video. Specifically, the team was looking for cross-modal recognition, or the cognitive ability to recognize objects presented in two different sensory settings. 

They also played videos of both familiar and unfamiliar human faces, while broadcasting audio corresponding to one of the two men. Each man also said the same sentence. The team measured the animals’ heart rates as they watched the videos, to see if the bovines responded to the videos emotionally. 

The cows were not afraid of the videos without sound and stared at the unfamiliar faces longer. According to the team, the staring shows that the animals can distinguish between an unknown and known face. 

When researchers paired the videos with sound, the cows spent more time staring at the video when the voice matched the face. This shows that the cows can pair a face with the voice that they know. Captive big cats can also do this with their handlers. 

Based on their heart rate, neither the familiar or unfamiliar voices appeared to affect the cows’ emotional response. 

The team notes that a video and sound recording are not a full interaction with a human, but these results indicate that cows can tell the difference between familiar and unfamiliar people, and they can tell humans apart by face and voice. To better understand the animals and their welfare, future studies could examine how cows interact with specific people.

The post Cows can tell humans apart, new study finds appeared first on Popular Science.

A unique turtle is officially getting a second chance at life in the big blue. Last month we reported on a special resident at the Georgia Sea Turtle Center in Jekyll Island, Georgia: a first-generation hybrid sea turtle, the child of a Loggerhead sea turtle father (Caretta caretta) and a Kemp’s ridley sea turtle (Lepidochelys kempii) mother. Nicknamed Earl Grey, the reptile-turned-celebrity has returned to the wild. 

This Hannah Montana of turtles was slated to be released on Wednesday, but on Tuesday the Georgia Sea Turtle Center announced a change of plans because of “some unexpected pre-release complications.” Luckily, these complications must have been resolved. He was sent on his way Thursday morning, only one a day behind schedule. 

“Yesterday evening, veterinarians at the Georgia Sea Turtle Center determined that the best course of action for Earl Grey’s well-being and successful transition back into the ocean was to conduct a private release,” according to a George Sea Turtle Center spokesperson.

The turtle was rescued from a beach in Brewster, Massachusetts, where it was stranded and cold-stunned. The turtle’s mixed background was revealed by genetic testing after the Loggerhead ridley (or Kemp’s Loggerhead?) arrived at the turtle center. Hybrid animals are natural, but we don’t know how many wild hybrid sea turtles there are. Most hybrid animals are only confirmed with genetic testing. 

“From an evolutionary perspective, hybridization could be one of many ways genetic diversity is introduced into a population,” Jaynie L. Gaskin, Georgia Sea Turtle Center director, told Popular Science in April. “We encourage other rehabilitation facilities to consider genetic testing for any suspected hybrid sea turtles, as there may be more individuals than we currently realize!”

In a Facebook video, the turtle center highlights the traits that the rare hybrid sea turtle inherited from each species, including a hook-shaped beak of a Kemp’s ridley (the mother) and the colors of a Loggerhead (the father). A combination of, in their words, the “best of both worlds.” . 

Stay warm, E.G.! 

The post Rare hybrid sea turtle released back into the ocean after rescue appeared first on Popular Science.

Death Valley National Park’s ephemeral spring superblooms get most of the attention, but another national park in California has its own impressive floral show this year. Redwood National Park in northern California is awash in a purple riverbank lupine (Lupinus rivularis) superbloom. It was first spotted earlier in May and is expected to last through the end of the month. 

The park six hours north of San Francisco is home to over 30 species of plants, including to the state’s famous redwood trees—the tallest trees in the world. The landscape features open prairies, oak woodlands, wild rivers, and untamed coastline. 

This year’s purple riverbank lupines are blooming at the Lyons Ranch Trailhead and covered the Bald Hills with purple flowers. Riverbank lupine is a fast-growing and multi-stemmed member of the pea family (Fabaceae) that can grow up to five-feet tall. Its seeds provide food for birds, while its dense patches give rabbits, birds, and other small animals cover. Bees are also attracted to its pollen and nectar, and the plants possibly host two species of butterflies—the orange sulphur (Colias eurytheme) and the western tailed blue (Cupido amyntula).

This year’s lupine super bloom is more than just pretty purple flowers coloring the landscape. Lupine also demonstrates how prescribed burns play an important supporting role in prairie ecosystems.

“The prairies of the Bald Hills have been managed using fire since time immemorial, revealing a fascinating trend in the relationship between fire and flowers,” park rangers wrote in a Facebook post. 

These flowers consistently bloom “in abundance” two years after a prescribed fire. The fire likely helps the hard-coated seeds germinate, leading to a super bloom. 

According to SF Gate, a prescribed fire was set two years ago to burn off flammable materials and help prevent wildfires. 

“We are returning fire to this landscape, and we’re realizing that one year after a fire, we end up with a lot of vegetative lupines,” an unnamed botanist told SF Gate. “But two years post-burn, just like the burn that they did in this drainage two years ago, we end up with a lupine superbloom.”

When visiting any national park or superbloom, it is critical to “take only photographs, leave only footprints.” Visitors should stick to designated trails to keep the delicate flowers safe for pollinators and try to disturb the plants and wildlife as little as possible. While lupines are beautiful, these wildflowers are not there for picking. Viral social media posts of previous superblooms in Death Valley and other parks have led to serious damage to the flowers that influencers claim to love.

Photography news site Fstoppers offers several tips on how to photograph superblooms without disrupting them, including using telephoto lenses and shooting from low angles. 

The post Superbloom turns Redwood National Park’s hills purple appeared first on Popular Science.

Only around 600 of the nearly 4,000 known snake species are venomous. The recently discovered Guangxi reed snake (Calamaria incredibilis) in China is not one of those species, but its alternative defense mechanism is strange enough to keep most predators at bay. According to a study recently published in the journal Zoosystematics and Evolution by biologists at the Natural History Museum of Guangxi, C. incredibilis wields its wide, stubby tail like a second head to scare away potential threats.

Researchers first spotted the Guangxi reed snake during a biodiversity study in China’s Huaping National Nature Reserve near the nation’s southern border with Vietnam. The mostly nocturnal, non-venomous serpent grows to about eight-inches-long, and is identifiable by its small brown scales and seven darker stripes. Largely docile, it prefers to hide away between rocks and underneath leaves, and prefers a diet of insect larvae and earthworms.

Although largely timid, the Guangxi reed snake has evolved a strategy to bluff its way out of dangerous situations. Whenever it feels threatened, the reptile raises its tail off the ground and begins waving it like an additional head. The tail even features similar markings to those seen on the snake’s head, which adds to the overall realism. 

As People recently noted, the reed snake is far from the first new snake species discovered in 2026. Earlier this year, researchers identified both a vibrantly turquoise pit viper and a flying snake in a Cambodian cave alongside previously unknown geckos, millipedes, and microsnails.

The study’s authors explained the Guangxi reed snake “highlights the underestimated diversity” in the reptile’s larger family, as well as underscores the region’s role as an “ important hotspot” of unique animals.

The post ‘Two-headed snake’ confuses predators appeared first on Popular Science.

The remains of an ancient dingo is shining new light on deep relationships between Australia’s First Nations and the wild dogs. Barkindji ancestors deliberately cared for and buried the dingo along the Baaka (Darling River) about 800 miles west of Sydney. 

The dingo is known as garli in Barkindji language and they lived alongside the Barkindji as part of the community. While burying the dog, the Barkindji took great care in building a midden, or a spot to place organic material. The people living there continued to bring river mussel shells to the midden for hundreds of years after the dingo’s death. Archaeologists believe that this marks the first time this type of post-death feeding ritual has been scientifically documented. The findings are detailed in a study published today in the journal Australian Archeology.

“While Barkindji people have always known about this cultural practice, this discovery is really powerful because it provides new details on the depth of that relationship between Barkindji people and dingoes,” study co-author Dr. Amy Way, an archaeologist at the Australia Museum and university, said in a statement. “If garli were buried with the same care and respect we see for human ancestors, including mothers and elders, it tells us these animals were profoundly valued and loved.”

The burial site was first identified in 2020 by Barkindji Elder Uncle Badger Bates and National Parks and Wildlife Service (NPWS) archaeologist Dan Witter within a road cutting as erosion exposed the skeleton. Barkindji custodian Dave Doyleand and Elder Barb Quayle worked alongside the team during the analysis and excavation requested by the Menindee Aboriginal Elders Council. Elderlders guided the care of the remains throughout the research, including smoking ceremonies at the beginning of the excavation to honor their departed ancestor. 

The male dingo was deliberately buried sometime between 963 and 916 years ago within a midden along the river. It was about four to seven years old, and his heavily worn teeth suggest a long life spent hunting.

Interestingly, the dingo had several healed injuries, including a broken lower leg and broken ribs. Based on the injuries, the dog may have been kicked by a kangaroo while hunting. This shows that the dingo likely survived with prolonged care by the Barkindji people. 

“This confirms these traditions were much more widespread than we once thought,” added study co-author Dr. Loukas Koungoulos, a postdoctoral fellow at the University of Western Australia and research associate at the Australian Museum. “Dingoes like this garli weren’t simply tolerated around camps. They were tamed, lived with people and were embedded in daily life.”

When the dingo died, he was buried in a midden that appears to have been built right before the burial or at the same time People kept adding to it for hundreds of years after death. Barkindji Elders say that these ongoing additions formed part of a “feeding” ritual that honored the dog as an ancestor and that the site was maintained across multiple generations. After the analysis,  the dingo’s remains were returned to Country. In Indigenous contexts, the word Country is capitalized to include the physical land and deep spiritual, cultural, and social dimensions of the area that are integral to identity and heritage.

“This research reinforces what Barkindji people have always known,” Dr Way said. “These relationships with animals, ancestors and Country were deep, deliberate and ongoing.”

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Wind turbines are a net positive for a sustainable society, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have an environmental impact. Apart from their material requirements, those giant, spinning blades can be lethal to unsuspecting winged animals like birds and bats. Although some reports dramatically overplay wind farms’ danger to flying species, there is no denying they can unintentionally kill anywhere from two-to-six birds and four-to-seven bats per megawatt every year. That may not seem like many fatalities, but every animal counts for an endangered species.

To lower these risks, engineers are devising new ways to make wind turbines more visible and avoidable. One potential solution may involve taking a cue from some of nature’s most dangerous creatures. According to a study published in the journal Behavioral Ecology, more bats and birds will steer clear of wind turbines when their blades are painted with colors similar to animals like venomous coral snakes and poison dart frogs.

“White blades, which are the most frequently used pattern around the world, turned out to be the worst option for birds,” Johanna Mappes, a University of Helsinki environmental scientist and study co-author, said in a statement. “This suggests that a relatively simple visual change could reduce bird mortality in connection with wind power.”

To test how birds respond to various turbine designs, Mappes and her colleagues placed test subjects in front of a video screen in a controlled laboratory environment. They then played clips of wind blades with multiple color palettes spinning at different speeds. These included turbines featuring classic white blades, one blade painted black, blades with red-and-white stripes, or blades with a newly designed, biomimetic red-black-yellow pattern.

“By using a touchscreen especially designed for birds, we can use games to explore their behavior and ecology by simulating real-world scenarios, without putting the birds at risk,” explained University of Exeter ecologist and study co-author George Hancock.

In nearly every trial, the birds were far more likely to approach white blades than any of the colored options. However, the test subjects were the most avoidant of the team’s novel, biomimetic striped blades.

“We’ve known for a long time that birds change how they respond to objects with warning colors, but to see such a large effect was remarkable,” Hancock added.

There is no way to completely prevent wind turbines from ever accidentally harming or killing animals. That said, the study’s authors believe a wider industry adoption of evolutionarily inspired color schemes could be an easy, cheap way to make the technology safer. They also suggest that similar approaches be developed for other human-made avian dangers like power lines and building windows.

“If the results are repeated in practical conditions in different countries and with different bird species, it could be a significant change for the entire wind power industry,” said Mappes.

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Few creatures wear the mantle of deep time as visibly as Limulus polyphemus, better known as the Atlantic horseshoe crab. To walk through the gravelly shores of the Delaware Bay or the back-bay shallows near Ocean City, New Jersey during the high spring tides of June is to witness a gathering unchanged since the Triassic. 

Here, the ancient arthropods—who have existed for roughly 445 million years—assemble for their great spawning. Under the gravitational pull of the full moon, king tides cue the helmet-shaped crabs to emerge from the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. The females, robust and broad-carapaced at nearly two feet in length, plow into the damp sand at the water’s edge. They then deposit thousands of eggs beneath the slurry of the surf.Each tiny, colorful orb is barely  larger than a mustard seed.

The process works like a precise biological clock, and at dawn, the cycle shifts away from the horseshoe crabs and to the daytime feeders. As the crabs deposit millions of these fatty and nutritious eggs, thousands of migratory shorebirds arrive from the sky. Many of these birds have flown thousands of miles up from the southern tip of Patagonia, only to touch down upon these precise Northeast shorelines. Among them is the Rufa red knot (Calidris canutus rufa), a master of the air executing an annual 9,000-mile odyssey to its Arctic breeding grounds. 

Throughout their long journey, red knots can remain airborne for up to a week straight, burning stored energy and losing nearly half of their body mass in the process. The tiny horseshoe crab eggs are an immediate, vital fuel source, allowing the knots to double their weight in a matter of days.

Over the past eight years, New Jersey photographer Susan Allen has captured these spawnings. “The quiet Delaware Bayshore becomes globally significant to the survival of many species each spring,” Allen tells Popular Science. “Hopefully this natural wonder will continue to happen.” 

Yet, this ancient convergence faces immediate threats. Climate change is warming bay waters and intensifying storms. In some years, the warmer water has prompted horseshoe crabs to spawn earlier in the season, throwing off the timing that red knots depend on when they arrive to feed on crab eggs. 

At the same time, horseshoe crabs have faced mounting pressure from commercial harvest. They are widely used as inexpensive bait in whelk and eel fisheries, and are also collected for the pharmaceutical industry. During the 1990s, harvest numbers surged: in just five years, annual take rose from about 100,000 crabs to 2.5 million.

But against these modern pressures, the endurance of this bird-arthropod partnership remains a profound marvel of prehistoric connection, forged over hundreds of millions of years. The bay is still coming alive as ancient crabs meet the arriving birds in the middle of their long migration. 

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While turkeys are more associated with the fall, spring is the season of the baby turkey just like with most birds. When two turkeys were left without a mother, staff at Raven Ridge Wildlife Center in Pennsylvania resorted to a surprising replacement: a feather duster. 

It might sound like a Disney-esque solution, but rehabilitation animals won’t start healing until they are relaxed, and these two chicks—just a day or two old—were very stressed. According to Raven Ridge’s Game Warden, a man found them running down the same road where their mother and a sibling were killed. 

Turkeys are precocial birds, meaning they’re pretty independent soon after they hatch. Unlike baby blue jays or robins, turkey and pheasant chicks eat and move on their own. However, they do rely on their mother for warmth and protection. So when these two chicks arrived at the wildlife rehabilitation center in southeastern Pennsylvania, the staff put them in an incubator to keep them warm. 

This particular incubator hosts a third presence. The staff put in a feather duster with the chickens, that they can hide under as if it were their mother. 

“The incubator is nice and warm, which would be just like mom,” Tracie Young, director of the Raven Ridge Wildlife Center, tells Popular Science. “And to cut down their stress, the feather duster is hanging from the inside of the incubator. It’s more natural, more something that they’re going to recognize, and they’re able to hide under it. So it’s just like mom. It’s safety, it’s warmth. And that really does help with these animals in rehabilitation.” 

Interestingly, Young and her colleagues also put pictures of adult turkeys in the incubator so that, in the absence of a real one, the chicks can still see a sort of adult role model. It’s not unusual for wildlife centers to resort to off-beat solutions for orphaned babies in rehabilitation. In 2024, wildlife care staff wore fox masks while caring for a juvenile red fox so that it doesn’t get used to humans. 

Young says that when dealing with one or just a few ducklings at Raven Ridge, they give them adult duck decoys. As for turkey chicks, “a turkey decoy is not going to fit into an incubator,” she explains, so that’s where the pictures come in.

This isn’t the first time the team has reached for the feather duster in such a scenario, nor will it be the last. In fact, the wildlife center also just received another baby bird—its first ever ruffed grouse (Bonasa umbellus). That means they’ll have to procure another feather duster. 

The baby chicks will likely be at the wildlife center until closer to the fall, when they’ll be returned to the wild. Once the birds become bigger and able to keep themselves warm, the team will transfer them into a larger cage and then outside. For now, however, the featherduster is helping. 

“They were running out from underneath their duster, running back underneath the feather duster,” she says, “but we noticed, too, that after putting the feather duster in they were a lot calmer, they were eating more, and their weight is going up.” 

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For decades, many paleoarchaeologists believed Neanderthals went extinct largely because they just weren’t intelligent enough to compete with their Homo sapien relatives. However, mounting historical evidence suggests this was far from the case. The latest discovery to help the Neanderthal’s reputation ion? The ancient hominins knew when and how to safely snack on shellfish potentially thousands of years before their human descendants.

The findings published today in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences focus on Neanderthals who lived at Los Aviones Cave in present-day Cartagena, Spain. Researchers discovered the remains of 115,000-year-old mollusks including gastropods and limpets that were clearly harvested as food. This contradicts past theories about Neanderthals, which suggested they had difficulty adapting to coastal environments and utilizing marine resources. What’s more, the Neanderthals here didn’t eat shellfish in large quantities all the time. Instead, they knew to make the most of them between November and April during the colder seasons.

“They consumed marine resources throughout the year, but with a very clear preference for winter and autumn months,” explained Asier García-Escárzaga, a study co-author and archaeologist at Spain’s Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona Institute of Environmental Science and Technology.

García-Escárzaga says this seasonal pattern often followed by more modern human populations in Europe wasn’t a coincidence. The winter reproduction cycle of many mollusks also results in higher amounts of meat as well as improved flavor and texture. Summer months increase health risks like toxic algae contamination or rapid spoiling.

But how did researchers determine exactly when these shellfish were harvested? It all has to do with the mollusks’ shell carbonate and their oxygen isotopic levels. This level fluctuates depending on seawater temperature and functions like a “prehistoric thermometer,” according to García-Escárzaga.

The findings reveal that Spain’s coastal Neanderthals relied on a diverse diet featuring high-quality oceanic proteins filled with Omega-3 and zinc, both of which aid in reproductive health and brain development. With that in mind, it’s entirely possible that humans’ closest evolutionary ancestors influenced our own love of shellfish.

“What we see at Los Aviones is a fully modern subsistence strategy,” García-Escárzaga and his colleagues wrote in their study.

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a retro depiction of a baby while a mother is pregnant