That dietary advice has changed the way the world consumes salmon, pushing consumer demand ever upward and production to higher and higher levels. Most of that demand is being met with farmed salmon: Today, nearly 70 percent of the salmon consumed on the planet are raised in pens and cages.
The US Department of Agriculture’s Dietary Guidelines for Americans recommend eating at least 8 ounces of fish a week and urges people to choose salmon or other species that are similarly high in “heart-healthy” Omega-3 fatty acids. But new research led by USDA scientists finds that levels of these fatty acids in farmed salmon have dropped considerably, potentially making the agency’s own advice, and similar recommendations, including from the American Heart Association, outdated and insufficient.
Since the 1850s, plowing and clear-cutting in modern agriculture have increased how fast soil erodes in the Upper Mississippi River Valley. Across the globe, farming strips soil up to 100 times faster than natural processes. It also removes farmable land and clogs waterways, threatening long-term environmental sustainability. However, scientists in the past have struggled to separate the effects of land-use changes from the transition out of the last ice age over the past 20,000 years.
To determine whether current farming practices are sustainable, researchers from Minnesota recently measured the speed at which soil eroded during the ice age transition and compared it with modern agricultural erosion. They focused on the Trout Creek tributary of the Mississippi River. This tributary has 2 step-like formations, or terraces, on its bank that represent past floodplains before the river eroded to its current level.
The oldest, upper terrace is about 14 meters (50 feet) above the lower terrace, which is about 8 meters (26 feet) above the modern floodplain. Scientists studying nearby areas have suggested that the terraces contain sediment from the last ice age, 20,000 years ago, referred to as the Last Glacial Maximum, to today.
In the upper terrace, the researchers pushed an empty cylinder into the ground, like a straw into a layer cake, to collect a cylindrical sample of sediments about 4 centimeters (1.5 inches) wide and 6 meters (20 feet) deep, called a sediment core. They collected slices of this core from 2 meters (6 feet) and 6 meters (20 feet) to find the terrace’s age.
Some grains in the sediment trap electrons while buried and release them when exposed to light. So the team shone light on the sediment slices to stimulate these electrons and measure the intensity of light emitted, known as their optically stimulated luminescence. Brighter light emissions indicate the sediment is older and was buried for a longer period of time. Using this method, they confirmed that the deep sediment slice was 22,000 years old, and the shallow sediment slice was 20,000 years old, dating the terrace back to the Last Glacial Maximum.
Next, the team drilled into the upper terrace with an auger to collect 25-centimeter (10-inch) wide plastic tubes of sediment. They pulled 4 samples from 0 to 2 meters (0 to 6 feet), and 1 sample from 6 meters (20 feet) deep. They explained that minerals in the sediment called quartz produce the radioactive form of the element beryllium, known as 10Be, when exposed to the Sun, so low 10Be means the sediment was buried quickly and had little sun exposure. The team measured the concentration of 10Be in each sediment sample and used an online calculator to estimate how quickly it eroded. The researchers calculated that during the Last Glacial Maximum, 0.073 millimeters (0.003 inches) of surface sediment were removed per year.
The researchers collected similar samples from the lower terrace and used optically stimulated luminescence to determine that it was between 22,000 and 14,000 years old. This terrace was the floodplain during the transition out of the Last Glacial Maximum, or deglacial period, where temperatures warmed and permafrost retreated. They measured the concentration of 10Be in samples from this terrace and determined that 0.049 millimeters (0.002 inches) of surface sediment were removed per year.
Finally, the researchers measured 10Be in a sediment sample from the modern floodplain, deposited between 14,00 years ago and today. They found that the sediment had eroded 0.053 millimeters (0.002 inches) per year during that interval, at a rate slower than it had during the glacial period, but similar to the deglacial period.
The researchers compared their findings to the average soil loss caused by modern agriculture, as reported by 4 previous scientists studying the area. They saw that modern farming removes an average of 0.60 millimeters (0.02 inches) of soil per year, which is 8 to 12 times greater than all the natural erosion rates they calculated.
They concluded that the recent spike in soil loss from agriculture greatly exceeds that caused by the largest natural climate transition in recent Earth history. Human-driven erosion shows an upward “hockey stick” trend like the one seen in global temperatures, suggesting that similar trends could exist throughout Earth systems. The team concluded that modern agricultural practices aren’t currently sustainable. While measures like native plant reintroduction can help curb this trend, more research is required to determine how best to limit long-term erosion.
Around 11,000 years ago, communities in southwest Asia began one of the most consequential experiments in human history: growing their own food. Wild cereals, legumes and fruit-bearing plants were gradually brought under human management, setting in motion the transition from mobile hunter-gatherer lifeways to farming societies. For decades, archaeologists have assumed that one of the earliest signs of this transformation was an increase in cereal grain size. A new study, however, suggests that some of the biggest grains found at the dawn of agriculture may not have been genetically altered at all. They may simply have grown in wetter conditions.
The findings, published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, challenge a central assumption about how cereal domestication began. Researchers studying charred barley and emmer wheat grains from the Early Neolithic sites of el-Hemmeh and Sharara in the southern Levant found that the plants still possessed fully wild characteristics during the earliest phases of the Pre-Pottery Neolithic. Their ears had brittle rachises, the structures that naturally break apart when mature, allowing seeds to disperse in the wild. There was no evidence of the tough, non-shattering rachis that later became one of the defining features of domesticated cereals.
The absence of non-shattering forms is significant because a tough rachis makes harvesting far more efficient. In wild cereals, the rachis fractures as the plant ripens, scattering seeds before people can collect them. A mutation that keeps the grains attached would have offered major advantages to human harvesters and could then have spread through repeated cultivation and replanting. Researchers have therefore often treated the appearance of non-shattering cereals as a key marker of domestication. Grain size, by contrast, has frequently been interpreted as an earlier signal that people were already selecting plants through cultivation.
At el-Hemmeh and Sharara, however, grain size told a more complicated story. Barley and emmer wheat remained morphologically wild, yet their grains varied dramatically. Some were as small as typical wild cereals, while others fell within the size range commonly associated with domesticated plants. If large grains were the product of genetic selection caused by systematic tillage, the researchers expected to find other evidence of intensive cultivation. Instead, the ecological evidence pointed toward relatively low-disturbance environments.
The team examined the weed species preserved alongside the cereal remains. Weeds are valuable archaeological indicators because different plants thrive under different environmental conditions. Species associated with heavily tilled or frequently disturbed soils were not dominant in the assemblages from these early sites. This weakened the argument that repeated ploughing or intensive soil preparation had already created strong selection for larger seeds. The researchers began looking for another explanation for the striking variation in grain size.
Their answer came from stable carbon isotope analysis. Carbon exists in several naturally occurring forms, or isotopes, and plants incorporate these isotopes in ways that are influenced by their growing conditions. In cereals, the stable carbon isotopic composition of a grain can reflect the balance between carbon uptake and water loss during photosynthesis. When plants experience water stress, changes in gas exchange through their leaves alter the carbon isotope signal recorded in their tissues. By measuring this signal in ancient grains, scientists can reconstruct aspects of the moisture conditions under which the plants grew.
The results showed a strong relationship between grain size and water availability. Barley grains that reached domestic-sized dimensions had carbon isotope values indicating that they developed under wetter conditions. Smaller, wild-sized grains carried signatures consistent with considerably drier growth environments. The difference suggests that environmental moisture, rather than inherited genetic change, was responsible for much of the early increase in cereal grain size. In other words, the same wild plant population could produce grains of very different sizes depending on the conditions it experienced during development.
This phenomenon is known as developmental plasticity: the ability of a single genotype to produce different physical traits in response to the environment. It is widespread in plants and can affect characteristics such as height, leaf area, flowering time and seed production. In the Early Holocene southern Levant, developmental plasticity may have created the visual impression that cereals were already becoming domesticated. People collecting and replanting the largest grains might eventually have generated genetic selection, but the initial size increase itself appears to have been ecological rather than evolutionary.
“Environmental conditions provided a much better explanation for the observed variation in grain size than genetic selection under tillage,” said Dr Jade Whitlam of the University of Oxford, who led the study. The researchers propose that genetic selection for larger grains may have occurred later than previously thought, perhaps after selection for non-shattering rachises had already begun. This reverses the sequence often assumed in models of domestication and places greater emphasis on the complex interaction between climate, plant biology and human harvesting practices.
The study also reframes the origins of agriculture as a gradual process of niche construction rather than a sudden decision to domesticate plants. Early communities altered their relationship with wild vegetation through harvesting, protection, transport and repeated use of particular landscapes. These practices may have changed plant populations long before crops displayed unmistakable domestication traits. By combining archaeobotany, weed ecology and stable isotope evidence, the researchers argue that the first steps toward agriculture were not necessarily driven by deliberate genetic engineering of crops, but by prolonged human management operating within a variable environment. The result is a more nuanced picture of farming’s origins—one in which climate could temporarily make wild cereals look domesticated before their genomes caught up.
Subject of Research: The environmental and biological processes that influenced cereal grain size and plant domestication in the Early Holocene southern Levant.
Article Title: Developmental plasticity under human management shaped cereal evolution prior to domestication in the Early Holocene southern Levant
In the Bolivian Altiplano, fewer Aymara farmers are relying on local weather knowledge to schedule farming tasks, like choosing the best dates to plant crops and predicting a frost or drought. At the same time, there is growing doubt about whether these traditional indicators remain relevant today in the context of rapid social, economic, and climatic changes.
Farmers are struggling because the National Weather Service of Bolivia (SEHNAMI) fails to provide useful weather forecasts due to the geographical complexity of the Andes and a scarcity of weather stations. In addition, many farmers can’t access this information because SEHNAMI lacks local outreach programs to deliver reports directly to them. In a region with a weak technical forecasting system, local knowledge is a vital resource, but its use is declining.
Scientists in the past focused on preserving local weather knowledge or discussing how it might help communities adapt to climate change. However, very few researchers have scientifically validated local weather indicators, since doing so requires many years of historical meteorological data to establish statistical “skill” in local forecasting.
Faced with this gap, researchers in the US and Bolivia recently set out to validate indigenous indicators in 2 Bolivian municipalities: Umala in the Central Altiplano and Ancoraimes in the Northern Altiplano. To do this, they paired each traditional weather sign with a measurable variable, like temperature, that could approximate it. This approach allowed them to directly compare traditional observations with scientific data.
The researchers wanted to determine whether traditional weather knowledge is still accurate and relevant under current conditions, since validating these methods would strengthen local knowledge and benefit the schools and policies that promote it. To test this, the researchers worked with 6 Aymara communities. First, they conducted workshops with local leaders and experts to compile a set of weather-forecast indicators. Then, they surveyed 95 farmers to rank the reliability of these indicators.
Through discussions with these communities, the team identified 13 weather indicators in the Central region and 20 in the Northern region. These indicators included specific plants, animals, and physical factors like constellations or winds that the farmers used to decide when and where to plant crops, and to predict weather conditions for the next season. The researchers focused on 2 key indicators that the farmers ranked as most reliable: the presence or absence of moisture under rocks on the Fiesta de San Juan on June 24th, and the flowering patterns of specific plants, called Thola and Sank’ayu. The farmers used the San Juan indicator to predict whether the upcoming year would be rainy or dry, and the plants to determine the most favorable dates for planting to avoid agricultural risks like frosts.
Finally, the researchers compared forecasts based on these 2 signs with over 30 years of meteorological data from nearby weather stations. In both cases, they used the minimum daily temperature as the measurable way to represent these local signs scientifically. Their results showed that the minimum daily temperature on the Fiesta de San Juan could explain more than half (55.5%) of the changes in rainfall during the growing season. They also confirmed that severe frosts that “burned” Thola and Sank’ayuthe flowers were followed by periods without rain, validating the farmers’ strategy of delayed planting.
The researchers concluded that local weather indicators used by Aymara farmers are most reliable for seasonal planning, especially in predicting the start of the rainy season. They stated that this result helps legitimize traditional knowledge and empower the community. For example, these communities now hold regular meetings to discuss forecasts and share this information with their neighbors via WhatsApp groups.
However, the team acknowledged that local knowledge was limited to short-term forecasting, as it only provided warnings a few hours in advance. Farmers need alerts several days in advance to effectively reduce their vulnerability to events such as frosts or hail. For this reason, the researchers suggested that the next step will be to co-produce forecasts by combining meteorological science with traditional knowledge.
As increased rain makes grasslands and cornfields possible in areas that once were deserts, the world’s largest beef importer is becoming more self-reliant by expanding domestic herds.
A lawsuit filed in California claims the automaker’s philanthropic arm stole technology intended to help poor farmers, but it is not clear to what end.
The Upper Colorado River on the Grand Canyon last month. About 40 million people and 5.5 million acres of cropland depend on the Colorado for drinking water and irrigation.
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