Despite major strides in education and conservation efforts, rabies remains a serious public health issue. The Center for Disease Control (CDC) estimates around 90 percent of cases occur in wildlife, but their consequences still reverberate across ecosystems and routinely endanger humans. Combating the viral disease costs the United States over $300 million every year, but the hefty price tag is justified. Contracting one of the oldest known diseases invariably causes severe symptoms like abnormal sensations, violent movements, hydrophobia, and loss of consciousness. Rabies is fatal in virtually every documented case, and still kills around 59,000 people around the world each year.
Once primarily associated with dogs, rabies has since spread to wildlife such as raccoons, skunks, bats, and foxes—making the issue much more difficult to track and control. Since 1995, the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) has overseen a National Rabies Management Program in cooperation with state and federal departments, university researchers, and other organizations. After over 30 years of work, one of the most preferred mitigation methods is regularly placing oral rabies vaccine (ORV) bait in strategically selected wildlife areas. The easiest way to spread millions of bait blocks across thousands of square miles? Airdrops.
The bait isn’t toxic, but the USDA recommends using gloves to handle it. Credit: USDA
Next month, the USDA will once again begin tossing fishmeal-coated ORV packets from planes throughout the Southeastern states of Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, Georgia, and Alabama. These tiny edibles are specifically crafted to target the most prominent rabies variants seen in raccoons, coyotes, and gray foxes.
“The goal is to prevent westward spread of raccoon rabies by creating a continuous vaccine barrier that stays in front of rabies occurrence on the landscape,” a USDA spokesperson recently told FOX Carolina News. The representative added that although the distribution’s scope doesn’t currently include South Carolina, they are “very close to establishing an ORV area in South Carolina counties bordering North Carolina and Georgia in the next few years.”
If all goes as planned, the National Rabies Management Program’s geographic scope will shrink over time as the disease is regionally eliminated. Until then, anyone who accidentally comes into contact with an ORV bait brick shouldn’t worry about contracting the disease. The vaccine inside each brick is proven safe for over 60 animal species, including cats and dogs. If you happen to locate one in a residential area, the USDA recommends to either simply leave it alone, or use gloves to move it to a more remote location for its intended recipients. Always wash your hands thoroughly after handling ORV bait—and try to ignore the pungent odor of fishmeal.
Yellowstone National Park attracts more than 4.5 million visitors from around the world every year. Many sightseers arrive well prepared to admire the hotsprings, geysers, scenic lookouts, and wildlife, but there is only so much anyone can do about life’s little unexpected accidents. Each season, Yellowstone’s gusty winds are responsible for blowing away hundreds of hats, maps, and even sunglasses from the heads and hands of onlookers. And every season, park workers scour the grounds to gather up any lost items that landed far from the walkways and trails.
While the tally so far isn’t quite as large as last year’s haul, Yellowstone officials still impressively retrieved more than 280 hats from the hydrothermal areas. Workers cited standouts including a FIFA 2026 Men’s World Cup souvenir and a baseball cap ironically emblazoned with “Cowboy Hat.” But just because they aren’t suited for floating around roiling geysers doesn’t mean they’re destined for a landfill. Once the 2026 season draws to a close, all of the collected hats will be cleaned and donated to local clothing organizations.
Yellowstone officials recommend storing items deep in your pockets and always throwing litter into trash bins. Credit: Yellowstone National Park
Caps are only one type of lost item located amid the hunts. Workers scooped up more than $18 in coins from around the world during the summer search. Canadian dollars, euros, pesos, and yen were scattered among the U.S. change, many apparently tossed into hot springs and geysers as if they were wishing wells. Yellowstone officials took the occasion to remind everyone that hydrothermal formations are not made to receive wished-upon coins. Not only will your dream remain unfulfilled—the foreign additions often introduce destructive algae and bacteria into the delicate ecosystems.
Other common detritus in the haul included plenty of paper and plastic trash, hair ties, hotel key cards, children’s toys, eyewear, and camera lens caps. Standout oddities such as AirPods, an inhaler, and even a single Uno card also made the list of finds.
A single Uno card was also among the fines. Credit: Yellowstone National Park
As always, Yellowstone workers reminded everyone that the seasonal roundup also serves as an excellent reminder to “stash your trash.” Visitors are encouraged to place any litter or lightweight items deep in their pockets or bags until they reach a trash can. And although headwear is always important protection from the sun, people may want to consider temporarily removing their hats while trekking through especially windy areas of the park.
A centuries’ old “witness tree” that survived not only the Revolutionary War but a direct hit from lightning is facing yet another existential threat. Ironically, the famous oak in Eutaw Springs, South Carolina, is struggling to survive due to the strategies conservationists first used when attempting to preserve it decades ago.
The nearly 300-year-old tree was already nearing its semicentennial on September 8, 1781, when around 2,000 British and 2,500 American troops met at the Battle of Eutaw Springs. Believed to be the American Revolution’s last open-field engagement, the vicious combat was later remembered by colonial Maj. Gen. Nathanael Greene as “by far, the hottest action I ever saw, and the most bloody for the numbers engaged.” Records indicate 1,461 troops were killed, wounded, captured, or missing by the end of the conflict—although both sides claimed victory.
“That tree probably took a few lead balls itself,” arborist Aron Landsaw recently said in an Associated Press profile.
The original support chains had begun to suffocate the tree itself. Credit: SavATree KRIS MEADE
Landsaw and other conservationists are working to preserve the 45-foot-tall tree from succumbing to lingering injuries. About 50 years ago, lightning struck its base and almost split the oak in half. In an attempt to save the tree, workers at the time wrapped its splintered branches in a series of steel chains and cables. Although the strategy successfully granted the oak a reprieve, it grew so much over the last five decades that those metal lashes are cutting into the tree itself. In some areas, the cabling is now completely encased in bark.
“The chains and cables are actually choking it out. It can’t nutrients up from the soil,” explained Landsaw.
As part of the nation’s 250th anniversary, South Carolina partnered with the American Battlefield Trust and New York state-based arborists to once again bring the oak tree back from the brink of death. This time, the strategy is more high-tech than metal chains. Using specialized equipment to generate supersonic air, workers have essentially loosened all the heavily compacted earth around the tree’s roots. From there, they added a nutrient-rich kelp concoction into the dirt to further bolster the oak’s health.
The new accessories will divert any future lightning strikes away from the tree. Credit: SavATree KRIS MEADE
Other additions were tapped directly into the tree’s primary branches. These small, strategically placed lightning rods embedded into the oak are strung together with copper cables that all connect to a primary grounded copper rod located about 10 feet away from the tree. The odd-looking accessories are intended to prevent a repeat of the incident from 50 years ago.
“If lightning does hit it, it’ll run down the copper cables and dissipate into the ground,” said Landsaw.
The last phase will involve connecting a new set of reinforcement cables into the branches before carefully getting rid of the old chainwork. The replacement cables will all connect in the center so that the tree will remain flexible during wind gusts. No tree lives forever, but with the extra TLC and a little luck, the historic oak could easily bear witness to another 100 years of history.
Billions of people still suffer from hunger and food insecurity worldwide. Meanwhile, microbial contamination causes a third of global food waste annually, resulting in major economic losses and illnesses. Although antibiotics and pesticides help control contamination, their excessive use can promote bacterial resistance or leave toxic residues.
One alternative uses materials that generate highly reactive forms of oxygen when exposed to light, called photocatalysts, to prolong food freshness. These molecules kill bacteria by damaging their cell components in a process called photodynamic inactivation or PDI. However, current PDI systems rely on energy-intensive lasers and long exposure times because the bacteria’s protective cell membranes block reactive oxygen molecules. As a result, the systems don’t kill bacteria effectively and risk overheating food, affecting its freshness and nutritional value.
Scientists at Zhejiang University in China thought that it would be possible to achieve a PDI system using accessible, free sunlight with the right photocatalyst. Moreover, they also wanted to integrate this photocatalyst into food packaging to combat microbes during storage.
To make the photocatalyst, the researchers mixed water with a glue-like plant fiber that provides structural support, called pectin, and a chemical from plant seeds that supplies phosphorus, called phytic acid. Then they heated the mixture in a sealed reactor at 220ºC (428ºF) for 5 hours to form tiny structures composed of a carbon core surrounded by a phosphorus-rich shell called phosphorus-modified carbonized polymer dots or PCDs.
To incorporate the PCDs into film packaging, the researchers dissolved equal amounts of a plant fiber from konjac, called glucomannan,and another plant-derived molecule, called carboxymethylcellulose, in warm water to form a network of entangled molecular chains. Then, they added 1.5 milligrams of PCD per milliliter to this mixture, which linked the chains together like molecular fasteners. Finally, they added a moisture-binding chemical called glycerin to prevent brittleness. The researchers cast this mixture onto separate Petri dishes and dried them, forming thin, plastic-like PCD films.
To test the films, the researchers placed Escherichia coli bacteria between 2 sterilized film sheets and exposed the samples to either darkness or simulated sunlight for 20 minutes. They then transferred the microbes onto agar plates and incubated them for 15 hours, allowing surviving bacteria to form visible colonies. They compared the number of bacterial colonies with those of untreated samples to calculate the percentage of bacteria the films eliminated in each environment.
Tests under darkness showed that the films eliminated about 60% of the bacteria. The researchers attributed this result to the positive electrical charge of PCDs, which attracts the bacteria’s negatively charged cell surfaces. The electrical attraction stresses their cell membranes, interfering with essential life processes. This result suggested that the films use a separate charge-based antibacterial mechanism apart from PDI, which requires light to work.
Under simulated sunlight, the films eliminated nearly 100% of the bacteria. The researchers identified 2 principal mechanisms causing this. First, the PCDs acted as tiny heaters that generated localized heat, which stretched holes in the bacterial membranes, allowing contents to leak out of their cells through a process called photoporation. Second, the PCDs generated reactive oxygen molecules that could then penetrate the bacteria. Once inside the cells, these molecules irreversibly damage the bacteria’s internal components and genetic material through PDI.
The researchers also investigated whether PCD films could serve as food packaging by using them to wrap fresh strawberries. Compared with conventional nonbiodegradable polyethylene packaging where visible rotting occurred, the PCD films kept the strawberries fresh for more than 4 days by suppressing bacterial growth and regulating moisture levels. When the team tested whether the films were toxic, they found that the films are safe for humans and compatible for food applications. They also buried the films in soil for 24 days and found that they degraded by 78%, demonstrating biodegradability suitable for packaging fresh foods.
The team concluded that PCD films could be a biodegradable food packaging that combines plant-based materials with multiple antibacterial strategies. The films retained antibacterial activity in darkness and became more effective under sunlight through the combined effects of photoporation and PDI. These findings demonstrated that by combining multiple mechanisms into a single material, researchers can create multifunctional food packaging that remains effective across different storage conditions.
By the time naval architecture firm George G. Sharp tasked Jack Heaney with the design of the world’s first nuclear-powered merchant ship, the Glasgow-born designer had already broken many styling norms. In the mid-1940s, Heaney transformed routine ocean transport into a festive occasion when he designed the interiors of the SS President Wilson and SS President Cleveland with Hawaiian murals, carved glass panels, and a smoking lounge dressed in playful, exotic wall art. His gift for making the mundane desirable wasn’t confined to ocean liners—New York’s Museum of Modern Art had already put one of his stackable aluminum chairs on display in 1947. But nothing in Heaney’s career had prepared him for the commission that reached his drawing board in 1957.
At the time, the shadow of 1945, when the world first witnessed the terrifying power of the atom, loomed large. Following World War II, the United States and Soviet Union were locked in a nuclear arms race, and the public associated splitting atoms with annihilation. Atoms meant war.
To shift that sentiment, President Eisenhower launched his Atoms for Peace initiative, aimed at demonstrating the civilian benefits of nuclear technology—and the NS Savannah, or Nuclear Ship Savannah, was to be its flagship. Heaney suddenly had a much more daunting task than usual; he would have to make the feared desirable.
More than half a century since theSavannah was decommissioned in 1971, there is no nuclear-powered merchant ship in active commercial service anywhere in the world. Four nations have tried. None succeeded, mostly because the economics were not compelling enough and no one trusted nuclear ships.
In the interim, nuclear reactors have only become smaller and safer. Now, as the true cost of burning oil at sea comes due—commercial shipping produces more than three percent of global greenhouse gas emissions—the economics of nuclear-powered merchant ships may finally be compelling. But the problem Heaney was hired to solve in 1957 still stands in the way, persuading people to trust what they fear.
The making of a maritime designer
John “Jack” Heaney was born in Glasgow in 1904. He grew up during a time when the River Clyde, which runs through the heart of Glasgow, served as the world’s premiere shipbuilding hub, with nearly 40 shipyards situated on its banks. Heaney studied naval architecture at the University of Glasgow, while taking classes at the Glasgow School of Art and apprenticing at the Fairfield Shipbuilding and Engineering Company.
When Heaney emigrated to New York in 1926, he worked a string of jobs, including a brief stint as a door-to-door refrigerator salesman, before joining the New York City-based naval architecture firm George G. Sharp, Inc. in 1937. At Sharp, Heaney quickly developed a reputation for having an engineer’s eye and artist’s hand, helping design the interiors of several prominent passenger-cargo ships—a specialized form of merchant ship that is part cruise liner, part cargo vessel—including the Robin Line, the Delta Line, and the American President Lines. In 1947, the same year MoMA put his chair on display, Heaney opened his own design firm on West 54th Street in Manhattan. A decade later, the Savannah project came across his bow.
Originally tasked with the ship’s exterior design, Heaney eventually assumed responsibility for the ship’s interior styling, too. From stem to stern, it was Heaney’s job to design a nuclear-powered ship that passengers would want to cruise on for pleasure, and that businesses would want to ship merchandise on for commerce.
The NS Savannah was the first nuclear-powered merchant ship. Image: Contributor / Getty Images / Mondadori Portfolio
Atoms for Peace
Eisenhower had announced the Atoms for Peace initiative four years earlier, in a December 1953 address to the United Nations. The atom, he argued, should be turned from a great destructive force “into a great boon, for the benefit of all mankind.” Under Eisenhower, the U.S. began sharing reactor technology and medical isotopes with allied nations. Atoms for Peace sought to prove that the technology that had obliterated two cities could also light homes, treat cancer, build harbors, and move ships.
The U.S. Navy, meanwhile, saw the advantages of a vessel that could continuously plow the ocean without refueling for months, or even years. The USS Nautilus was the first atomic-powered vessel, a sub, launching in 1955. By the time Sharp signed Heaney to the Savannah project, two more atomic-powered subs were patrolling the world’s oceans (USS Skate and USS Seawolf). But military vessels primarily keep to military ports, so the public rarely saw them.
Eisenhower needed a civilian showcase that would disassociate atom-splitting from mushroom clouds. That showcase would be Heaney’s NS Savannah. As a passenger-cargo ship, the Savannah would routinely sail into commercial harbors like Rotterdam, Le Havre, and New York, normalizing nuclear reactors and demonstrating their safety. At least, that was the goal.
How safe is our A-ship?
In 1959, the same year the Savannah launched, Popular Science ran a short feature designed to quell readers’ fears: “How Safe Is Our A-Ship Savannah?” The staff-written story read more like a safety brief than an objective review. While boasting about its efficiency—“on a single loading of A-fuel, the Savannah will have a range of 350,000 nautical miles”—the article focused mainly on the “worst possible accidents that might befall the first atomic merchant vessel.” Such caution seemed justified. That same year, Denmark canceled a scheduled visit by the USSSkate to Copenhagen, and England agreed to receive visiting nuclear submarines only at the remote Isle of Portland, population 12,000, rather than major ports.
Popular Science’s initial coverage was not anomalous. “Passengers will receive no more radiation on the Savannah than they receive from normal background radiation of the earth in their day-to-day lives,” The New York Times reassured its readers.
By 1961, however, as the Savannah prepared to begin its cargo and passenger service, which commenced in 1962, Popular Science’s editors were fully onboard, launching a four-part series that spanned four consecutive issues and more than a dozen pages. The do-it-yourself mini-manual provided detailed instructions for readers to build and sail their own four-foot model of the ship. Four different writers and editors took part in the project: hull casting one month, superstructure the next, then a working steam turbine, and finally radio controls. Even as Popular Science promoted its features, the real Savannah was being fitted with Heaney’s final touches.
The January 1961 issue of Popular Science shows a model of the NS Savannah assembled with screws and dowels. Image: Popular Science, January 1961 issue
Domesticating the atom
On a conventional ship, fuel is stored low in the hull, in tanks that any port can refill with diesel by hose. But Savannah’s single, massive fuel core had to sit in the hull’s center, beneath an opening in the deck, so it could be accessible by overhead crane for refueling. Heaney’s answer to this exterior design problem became the ship’s signature: a streamlined, teardrop-shaped superstructure. Popular Science’s writers praised Savannah’s sleek, futuristic lines as “graceful as a racing yacht’s,” and called its reactor housing “a well-placed superstructure [that] blends airfoil curves with sharply angled planes for a dazzling effect.”
Below decks, Heaney took the fear problem head on, weaving Atomic Age motifs into the ship’s interior. In the veranda, the cocktail bar’s backlit wine rack depicted the trilinear chart of the nuclides in blue, red, and yellow glass; the tables ringing the dance floor glowed, their tops lit by “panelescent,” or electrically charged luminescent panels. Even the floor tiles in the main stairwell carried the atomic theme. A separate lounge nearby offered passengers a closed-circuit television view into the reactor containment vessel. Overhead light beamed down through light fixtures adorned with stylized atoms.
In the dining room, sculptor Pierre Bourdelle installed a wall mural titled “Fission.” Nearby, suspended in glass, hung a small gold model of the NSSavannah’s namesake, the 1819 steamship SSSavannah, the first ship to cross the Atlantic under sail and steam. Heaney hoped such Old World symbolism would make people feel comfortable dining, dancing, and sleeping no more than a dozen yards from a nuclear reactor.
As a design achievement, Savannah was a triumph. Her passenger cabins were mostly full from 1962 to 1965, and more than 1.4 million people toured the ship across 46 ports in 13 countries.
Even the plates and silverware used on the NS Savannah had an atomic motif. Image: Baltimore Sun / Contributor / Getty Images / Kim Hairston
Sunk by economics—and fear
But novelty was never going to be enough to move public sentiment or make Savannah pay for itself. The combined ship-and-reactor construction cost ran to roughly $46 million, three to four times what a comparable conventional freighter cost at the time, and the ship’s specialized nuclear crew commanded specialized wages. No private insurer would touch a nuclear-powered merchant ship; the U.S. government had to indemnify it instead, extending $500 million in federal liability coverage just to get foreign ports to receive the ship. Every port call required a small diplomatic mission of its own, negotiated weeks in advance, with tugs standing by in case of an accident. Some countries, like Australia, New Zealand, and Japan, never accepted Savannah.
By the end of the 1960s, the U.S. Defense Department, one of merchant shipping’s largest customers, had concluded that conventional freighters remained the better bet. With no federal appetite left to continue funding a revenue-losing program, Savannah was withdrawn from service in late 1971 with no plans to build another.
The timing proved fateful. Two years after Savannah was decommissioned, the 1973 oil embargo sent fuel prices soaring; had it still been sailing, the ship’s independence from oil might have tipped the scales for commercial customers, even if the public remained fearful.
Fear kills future “A-ships”
In 1979, the partial meltdown at Three Mile Island—eight years after Savannah’s own retirement—hardened American public fear of nuclear power for more than a generation. The Soviet Union’s Chernobyl accident in 1986 and Japan’s Fukushima accident in 2011 reinforced that fear.
Three other nations tried what the U.S. attempted with Savannah, and each ran into the same wall. West Germany’s nuclear-powered merchant ship Otto Hahn logged 650,000 nautical miles over a decade before port restrictions and rising costs forced her conversion to diesel in 1979—the same year as Three Mile Island.
Japan’s nuclear-powered Mutsu fared worse. Local fishermen blockaded it in harbor for two years before the ship could even sail, and when its reactor went online in 1974, it leaked. The crew had to improvise radiation shielding using boiled rice and old socks.
The Soviet Union’s nuclear-powered Sevmorput, the last of the four and the only one to operate into the 21st century, has sat idle at a dock in Murmansk since 2024. As of today, not a single nuclear-powered merchant ship plows the seas anywhere on Earth.
And yet, military fleets have proven the technology works. The U.S. Navy alone has logged more than 6,200 accident-free reactor-years since 1955. What’s more, reactor designs have advanced significantly since Heaney’s day. Small modular reactors, or SMRs, have been engineered to be smaller, safer, and simpler to certify than anything available in 1959. SMRs are now in active development for maritime use, including a Norwegian consortium’s NuProShip program, and a molten-chloride test reactor that Core Power and TerraPower are building at the Idaho National Laboratory.
The pressure to act has intensified, too. Commercial shipping produces more than three percent of global greenhouse gas emissions—a share that could climb to 10 percent by 2050 if the industry does nothing while the rest of the world decarbonizes. In 2023, the International Maritime Organization, which governs commercial shipping, committed its member states to a net-zero target by 2050, a goal serious enough that the IMO is now weighing previously unthinkable measures like SMRs.
But none of it matters if nuclear-powered merchant ships remain taboo.
Sixty-five years after Jack Heaney tried to make the atom desirable, the real problem with nuclear reactors was less about the technology and more about public perception. Unfortunately, that perception has kept a viable climate solution off the table for more than half a century, at a cost now measurable in our planet’s atmosphere. As the shipping industry searches for a way to shed its considerable share of global carbon emissions, it is not physics but persuasion that remains unsolved.
In A Century in Motion, Popular Science revisits fascinating transportation stories from our archives, from hybrid cars to moving sidewalks, and explores how these inventions are re-emerging today in surprising ways.
Drilling for electricity or geothermal energy is a common human-caused source of earthquakes. Drillers or engineers inject water into the earth to fracture underground rock through a process known as fracking. This allows scientists to produce clean energy almost anywhere on Earth by heating up water in the cracks using facilities called enhanced geothermal systems or EGS plants. However, fracking causes earthquakes, which are a major concern for people’s safety globally. Therefore, scientists are looking for new fracking methods that cause fewer earthquakes.
Fracking for EGS plants can trigger earthquakes by changing the pressure underground and adding stress to the surrounding rock. However, these earthquakes happen at pre-existing, naturally occurring cracks called faults, which are different from the newly formed, man-made cracks. Faults are naturally under pressure from the overlying rock and the surrounding earth since they reach deep underground. As pressure builds up over time, it eventually causes the rocks to shift along these faults and release energy in the form of earthquakes.
During fracking, engineers use 4 different shut-in strategies to finish off water pumping. The standard industry strategy is called instant shut-in, where the injection pump is turned off immediately, but the water stays underground, causing the pressure to lower naturally. In a similar strategy, known as the tapered shut-in, engineers gradually reduce the water injection rate to zero instead of immediately turning it off. For the high-rate and low-rate extraction strategies, they pump the water back out after injection is complete, at different pump rates.
Recently, scientists aimed to mitigate the risk of earthquakes by testing these 4 shut-in strategies to determine which is most effective. They compared the shut-in strategies using crystalline basement rock with low porosity and permeability, meaning water couldn’t easily flow through it. Engineers use this same type of rock for EGS plants so they can control where the water flows. The scientists pumped water into the rock, then measured the pressure and stress levels where rocks began to move along faults, determining the point at which earthquakes would occur.
The scientists applied high-rate and low-rate extraction methods to the rock and found that pressure and fault movements decreased. However, when they applied instant and tapered shut-in methods to the same rock, they increased the pressure and caused continuous fault slipping. They measured stress in the rock during these methods and found that high-rate extraction stabilized the fastest, while low-rate extraction stabilized more slowly. In contrast, instant shut-in continuously increased the pressure and slip, and tapered shut-in caused the highest stress of all.
The scientists also used a computer model to simulate what happened at an EGS site in South Korea, where earthquakes occurred after injections using the instant shut-in method. They set up the model using a rock with the same characteristics, injection wells, and faults as that site. Then, they simulated periods of injection based on the previous real-world events and modeled the effects of pressure and stress to determine if the earthquakes could have been prevented.
The team used the model to compare how a site like this would respond to the instant shut-in method versus the other shut-in methods. They found that the tapered shut-in method increased pressure and stress in the rock, while the high-rate and low-rate methods both decreased pressure and stress. The high-rate method decreased pressure and stress more than the low-rate method.
The scientists concluded that high-rate extraction is the most effective method for reducing the risks of post-injection earthquakes during EGS fracking in crystalline basement rock. Additionally, the scientists determined that the earthquakes in South Korea could have been prevented if engineers had used either the high-rate or low-rate extraction methods. They recommend using high-rate extraction to reduce earthquakes during EGS fracking, which would allow EGS plants to generate clean energy more safely.
A biodegradable wash may help remove surface pesticide residues and keep fruit fresh longer, though more testing is needed before real-world use. Many shoppers follow the same pattern after buying produce: they bring fruits and vegetables home, wash them, dry them, and hope they stay good long enough to eat. Fresh produce, however, can deteriorate [...]
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.
Temperatures in the Arctic are increasing at a rate 4 times faster than the average global temperature. Scientists have documented the global effects of climate change, but there are still regions where these effects are less well known. This is the case for freshwater ecosystems in the Arctic.
When the ground has been permanently frozen for 2 years, scientists call it permafrost. Permafrost contains soil, sand, rocks, and organic matter held together by ice. As temperatures rise, permafrost thaws, which can change groundwater flow paths. It can also alter a stream’s temperature, flow patterns, and nutrient loads by introducing new material from the permafrost.
To determine how thawing permafrost affects Arctic ecosystems, scientists from the U.S. Geological Survey recently studied 10 headwater streams within the Brooks Range in the Noatak National Preserve of Alaska. The scientists studied streams with different amounts of permafrost and ice to test whether connections exist between permafrost, food webs, and populations of fish called the Dolly Varden and Arctic Graylings. They focused on these 2 species of fishbecause their migrations often indicate ecological shifts in the area.
The scientists collected fish from the streams by temporarily stunning them, using a method called electrofishing, or by catching them in minnow traps. They manually identified each species they collected, then froze the fish and shipped them to a lab. Once in the lab, the scientists measured the length of each fish and used documented growth patterns to estimate its biomass. To calculate fish abundances, they divided their total biomass by the time spent electrofishing or trapping. Finally, they measured the energy density of each fish by burning it in a device called a bomb calorimeter.
At each stream, the scientists took manual temperature measurements and deployed loggers that recorded the temperature every 15 minutes. They also deployed equipment at the bottom of each stream to record water pressure in 15-minute intervals and converted the data to depth, since pressure increases with depth. Then, they used wading rods to measure how much water was flowing through each stream at a given spot.
They combined the depth and wading rod data to determine the flow rate of water in the streams over time. They used these data to identify unstable streams where water rose and fell rapidly. They also collected water samples from each stream and measured their nutrient concentrations, including dissolved organic carbon, nitrogen, and phosphorus, to determine water quality.
Finally, they measured 2 types of smaller organisms that allow energy to flow through the food web to the fish, called microbial biofilms and macroinvertebrates. They used a hand-held device to estimate the types and amounts of biofilms, and nets to collect macroinvertebrates.
Once they had compiled these data, the team conducted a statistical analysis to compare the studied parameters and fish populations to the extent of permafrost in each area. They found that streams with more permafrost in the area had warmer temperatures, because the permafrost prevented water from infiltrating the soil to cool off. The streams with warmer temperatures, in turn, had lower abundances and biomass of Dolly Varden fish and Arctic Grayling with lower energy densities. They suggested that these results meant that the high temperatures had pushed the fish above their optimum temperature range.
They also learned that the limited infiltration in permafrost areas caused rainfall to flow straight into the stream. This process created instability as the stream levels rose and fell rapidly. Fish in these unstable streams had lower energy densities, likely due to the harsher environment.
Areas with greater permafrost also had higher concentrations of dissolved organic carbon and phosphorus, which stimulated the formation of biofilms at the bottom of the food chain. They noted that areas with more biofilms also had more macroinvertebrates and more Dolly Varden biomass. Since the Dolly Varden eats macroinvertebrates, this finding suggested that the lowest levels of the food web shape the health of species higher up. This is called the bottom-up effect, and means that areas with more biofilms and macroinvertebrates will likely have healthier and larger fish populations.
The scientists explained that knowing how these factors influence Arctic fish populations can help researchers understand how thawing permafrost might affect Arctic ecosystems in the future. They anticipated that their data could help future researchers predict how these and other ecosystems will be impacted by changing landscape dynamics caused by global warming.
Bipartisan opposition to AI data centers is growing as communities question electricity costs, local benefits, transparency, and control over AI infrastructure.
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.
The advance could provide a scalable route to clean energy while making plastic recycling more effective. A discarded bottle, shopping bag or car part can remain in the waste stream long after its useful life ends. Although plastic is everywhere in modern society, recycling it remains difficult because most systems require different types to be [...]
If you’ve ever swum in the ocean and been touched by seaweed, there’s a good chance it was Sargassum! This free-floating seaweed can have population explosions in coastal waters, degrading water quality, ecosystems, fisheries, and tourism. However, despite its drawbacks, scientists think that Sargassum could be useful for extracting valuable metals, known as rare earth elements (REEs).
REEs are classified by their average masses and atomic weights. Light REEs include cerium, praseodymium, and neodymium, middle REEs include gadolinium, terbium, and dysprosium, and heavy REEs include erbium, thulium, and ytterbium. These metals are used in magnets, electronic motors, wind turbines, spacecraft, and more. Our current methods of extracting REEs, open-pit mining and chemical processing, are invasive, causing habitat loss and producing toxic waste. Additionally, REEs are difficult to import due to restricted access worldwide. But what if these metals could be extracted using natural methods?
Scientists from Woods Hole and UCLA recently tested whether Sargassum could accumulate REEs, creating a sustainable solution to these problems. They harvested Sargassum at Waterfront Park in Woods Hole, rinsed the wet samples, and stored them in sterilized, filtered seawater, which they aerated with 12-hour cycles of light and dark to keep the Sargassum alive. They dried another set of samples in the sun under controlled outdoor conditions, stored them in sealed containers, and later rehydrated them in seawater for 3 hours before the experiments.
For each experiment, they added 5 grams (about 0.2 ounces) of Sargassum to solutions containing a mixture of 9 REEs – cerium, praseodymium, neodymium, gadolinium, terbium, dysprosium, erbium, thulium, and ytterbium – in concentrations totalling 0.1 micromolar (μM) REEs, 11μM REEs, 100 to 110μM REEs, and 575 to 600μM REEs. They performed each experiment 4 times: twice with fresh seaweed and twice with rehydrated seaweed.
The researchers removed 1 gram (about 0.04 ounces) of seaweed from each solution after 1, 3, and 7 days, and dissolved it in acid to release the REEs it had absorbed. They analyzed the concentrations of REEs in each seaweed sample and the leftover solutions using 2 different plasma-based methods. They used these REE concentrations to calculate the ratio of REEs in the Sargassum versus in the solution, known as the bioconcentration factor, to determine how effectively the seaweed absorbed REEs.
They found that after 7 days at lower REE concentrations (0.1μM), the fresh seaweed had bioconcentration factors of over 1,000. At higher REE concentrations (11μM), their bioconcentration factors ranged from about 400 to 700. However, these levels of REEs were eventually toxic to the fresh Sargassum, so they died after 2 weeks. In addition, the higher REE concentrations of 100 to 600μM were immediately toxic to the fresh Sargassum, which died within 1 day in solution.
The researchers determined that once the seaweed died, it could no longer actively take up REEs into its tissues but could only accumulate them on its surface or adsorb them. Adsorption can be thought of as a powdered donut – when the surface is covered with powdered sugar, no more powder fits on the donut. Similarly, there was a limit to how many REEs could stick to the Sargassum. Due to this limit, the fresh seaweed samples had bioconcentration factors below 250 in the highest REE concentrations. In contrast, the rehydrated Sargassum consumed less REEs at lower concentrations, but didn’t experience toxicity and continued to accumulate REEs at higher concentrations.
Finally, the team compared Sargassum to a common industrial method of accumulating REEs, known as activated carbon. REEs bond easily to activated carbon because of its abundant surface area and high porosity. Both materials accumulated a similar amount of REEs in solutions of 0.1μM REEs. However, at 575 to 600μM REEs, Sargassum accumulated about twice as many REEs as activated carbon, especially the heavier REEs.
The researchers concluded that Sargassum is a natural hyper-accumulator, meaning it successfully concentrates REEs. However, they recommended that future researchers test whether Sargassum performs the same in the natural environment as it does in the lab. If so, Sargassum could be used to accumulate REEs from wastewater, like mine drainage, or other water sources with higher concentrations of REEs. Regardless, they suggested that using Sargassum to obtain REEs could simultaneously expand global access to these metals and mitigate toxic blooms.
In March 2021, the carcasses of at least 260 marine organisms from 81 species, including large animals called megafauna, washed ashore in South Africa. Scientists questioned whether this event was the result of an extreme temperature drop that can happen when deep, cold water rises to the surface along coastlines. Scientists refer to these rapid cooling events as coastal upwelling.
Climate change is making oceans warmer, but it’s also making coastal upwelling stronger, with unknown consequences for marine megafauna. Scientists recently studied 2 boundary currents that are rapidly warming and creating strong upwelling near the edges of sharks’ geographic ranges: the Agulhas Current in southern Africa and the East Australian Current in eastern Australia. They wanted to determine whether climate-driven changes in upwelling zones are making cold-shock events more frequent and intense, and how these events are pushing sharks beyond their temperature limits.
First, the researchers analyzed sea surface temperature data from satellites to see if rapid cooling from upwelling caused the mass marine die-off in 2021. They also obtained hourly temperature recordings from temperature loggers to measure subsurface temperature changes during the event. They found that during the March 2021 event, sea surface temperatures along the coast dropped by up to 7°C (12°F) in less than 48 hours, from 24°C (75°F) to below 17°C (63°F). Subsurface temperatures dropped faster, by more than 9°C (16°F) in 24 hours, from 21°C (70°F) to 12°C (54°F).
Bullsharks experience physiological stress at temperatures below 19°C (66°F), which is near their lower thermal limit, when migrating through rapid cooling zones. Therefore, the researchers deduced that during the 2021 cold-shock event, the sharks were exposed to temperatures several degrees below their thermal limit, possibly more than 5°C (or 10°F) colder.
The researchers also tagged 66 bull sharks with acoustic and satellite transmitters – including 41 at the Agulhas Current in South Africa and 25 at the East Australian Current in eastern Australia – to determine how they responded near their lower thermal limits in these zones. The acoustic tags record when sharks pass underwater receivers, providing information on their movements, locations, and water depths at those specific locations. In contrast, satellite tags continuously record the water temperatures and depths the sharks experience over time.
The researchers used these data to compare sharks living in warm subtropical waters with those living in cooler waters at the edge of their temperature range. The researchers found that low temperatures that persisted for long periods prevented the sharks and other megafauna from physiologically recovering. They saw that some sharks try to swim to shallower depths and look for warmer water, but cooling sometimes happened faster than they could respond.
The researchers also obtained wind records from the South African Weather Service to determine if upwelling-favorable winds happened before the 2021 event. They reported strong easterly winds pushing cold water on the surface along the coastline immediately before the event occurred. Because the cooling, strong winds, and animal deaths happened at the same time and place, the researchers inferred that upwelling was the main reason for the die-off.
Finally, the researchers examined 41 years of sea surface temperature data and used mathematical models to compute changes in the frequency and intensity of these events. Their analysis showed that rapid cooling events linked to upwelling can last a lot longer than the usual 1 to 3 days. For example, the March 2021 event lasted for 7 days.
They found that these events have increased in both frequency and intensity in the past decades, and produce more extreme temperature drops than typically happen within 24 hours. Their results suggested that the 2021 die-off was part of an increasing trend, where warming oceans allow species to move into different areas, but intense upwelling can suddenly expose them to fatal cold events. This pattern is what scientists call a climate bait-and-switch.
The researchers concluded that climate change is making coastal upwelling stronger, which can push marine megafauna beyond their thermal limits, even when initial warming appears to be beneficial. Their findings highlight an understudied aspect of climate change in the context of how temperature and upwelling cause shifts in species survival. They concluded their findings could help predict how marine ecosystems respond to future changing ocean conditions.
Nearly 170 billion tons of ice melt off the Greenland Ice Sheet every year, but scientists don’t fully understand the process by which this melting occurs. Researchers in the past suggested that liquid water forms at the glacier’s surface, where warm air and sunlight melt the ice. This meltwater travels down through cracks in the glacier and along the bedrock beneath it and flows out to sea.
However, some scientists view this model as too simple because it assumes water only flows downward and ignores how temperature affects water movement. They argue that an oversimplified melting model is unreliable for predicting how future ice sheets will behave.
One group of researchers tested this by investigating how water movement across Greenland is controlled by lakes beneath the ice sheet, called subglacial lakes. They monitored a newly discovered subglacial lake using high-resolution satellite images taken from 2012 to 2019 and 3D surface maps generated from the images. They focused on ice sheet changes from July 22 to August 1, 2014, during a suspected subglacial lake drainage event. A drainage event is like a water balloon that’s too full, bursting from excess pressure.
They examined images of the Greenland ice sheet taken from Landsat-8, 3D surface maps from the Polar Geospatial Center, and data from ICESat and ICESat-2 taken in the summer of 2014. Based on these data, the researchers identified a 2-square-kilometer (0.8-square-mile) region of ice rising 10 to 15 meters (about 30 to 50 feet), forming a dome on the ice sheet’s surface. They suggested that this dome formed when a large, meltwater-fed lake developed on the bedrock beneath the ice sheet, pushing the ice upward.
They also saw that on July 22, 2014, the dome began to collapse. Over the next 10 days, it dropped by 85 meters (about 280 feet), forming a basin. Using the dome’s dimensions, the researchers estimated that 90 million cubic meters, or about 3 billion cubic feet, of water drained from the lake at an average rate of 100 cubic meters, or about 3500 cubic feet, per second over the 10 days. This is roughly equivalent to 36,000 Olympic swimming pools draining at a rate of 1 pool every 25 seconds!
The researchers also found that during the collapse, 40-meter-high (130-foot) ice blocks were uprooted about 1 kilometer (0.6 mile) downstream from the basin, followed by 6 square kilometers (about 2 square miles) of smooth ice. The researchers hypothesized that these features formed when water burst through the ice, flowed along its surface, and then reentered the ice sheet.
Next, they used data from Landsat 5, Landsat 9, the National Snow and Ice Data Center, and the U.S. Geological Survey to demonstrate that the drainage event also affected the surrounding environment. When the water reentered the ice sheet, it flowed beneath the Harding Glacier downstream. This influx of fast-moving water reduced pressure at the glacier’s base, slowing its movement. Simultaneously, the increased drainage beneath the Harding Glacier caused 500 to 600 meters (about 1,600 to 2,000 feet) of ice to break off its end.
In response to these changes, the researchers hypothesized that subglacial waters rose to the surface rather than sinking to the bedrock because the ice sheet was frozen to it. To test this, they simulated temperatures at the base of the ice sheet using computer-generated thermal models. They input a range of likely bedrock temperatures and ice thicknesses to simulate possible conditions under the ice sheet. They found that all the simulations predicted the glacier’s base would remain below -5°C (23°F). At such low temperatures, the ice would be frozen to the bedrock before subglacial water could drain out. Since water couldn’t flow under the glacier, it was forced to travel upward.
The researchers used these findings to develop a new conceptual model of how glacial meltwater moves. First, surface ice melts and flows into a subglacial lake. As meltwater accumulates, pressure builds at the base of the ice sheet, forming a dome on the surface. A drainage event causes the dome to collapse. As water moves downward through the glacier, it is blocked from reaching the base because the ice is frozen to the bedrock. The water then moves upward, bursts through the surface, travels across it, and eventually reenters the glacier before draining to the ocean.
The team concluded that water movement above, through, and below glaciers is interconnected. Destructive upward flow of meltwater, followed by downward flow beneath glaciers, can weaken ice sheet structure and alter downstream glacier dynamics. Their work highlights the need for more scientists to consider the processes driving glacial ice loss.
What if your daily coffee routine could help power the world around you?
Scientists are exploring ways to transform everyday waste, like spent coffee grounds, into materials for greener energy production. One promising method, called triboelectrification, uses electricity generated from motion. With this approach, materials that gain positive and negative charges are rubbed together to generate an electrical charge that can be harnessed by devices called triboelectric nanogenerators, or TENGs. TENGs are a greener alternative to fossil fuels because they generate electricity from everyday movement, such as pedestrian or vehicle motion.
However, many negatively charged materials used in these devices are made from nonbiodegradable plastics, like PTFE, that persist as long-term waste in the environment. Over time, TENGs are also easily damaged by environmental conditions outside the laboratory. To create sustainable TENGs for real-world applications, scientists need to develop biodegradable and durable designs.
To address this problem, researchers from Guangxi University in China developed a TENG that uses coffee grounds as its negatively charged material. Their design repurposes coffee waste to create a robust, low-cost device that can harvest energy.
To create the coffee-based material, the researchers mixed coffee grounds with a biodegradable glue-like plastic called polycaprolactone (PCL). They heated this mixture to 80°C (176°F) and molded it into cylindrical pellets. Then, they used a biodegradable plastic called polylactic acid (PLA) to 3D-print a fully enclosed box-like TENG containing vertical channels arranged like the parallel slots of a file organizer to house the pellets.
Their TENG worked by shaking the coffee ground pellets within the channels, causing them to repeatedly rub against the PLA surfaces. Because coffee grounds strongly attract electrons, the pellets become negatively charged while the PLA surfaces become positively charged. This repeated pellet movement drove the electrons back and forth, generating electricity that was harvested through the TENG’s external circuit.
To evaluate their TENG’s electrical performance, the researchers used an instrument that measures small amounts of electricity, called an electrometer. The electrometer measures electrical output based on how strongly the device pushes electrons through a circuit, called its voltage, how quickly electrons flow through it, called its current, and how many electrons flow through it, called its transferred charge.
The researchers verified that coffee ground pellets could serve as a viable TENG material by comparing their performance with commercial plastic pellets. The coffee ground pellet system produced a voltage of 0.6 Volts (V), a current of 18 nanoamperes (nA), and a charge transfer of 0.25 nanocoulombs (nC). This output was more than twice that of pure PCL pellets and over half that of nonbiodegradable PTFE. The researchers suggested that the negatively charged components of the coffee grounds altered the surface of the PCL to increase its charge generation and transfer.
To optimize the TENG, the researchers experimented with different coffee grounds to PCL mass ratios, pellet lengths, and device vibrational frequencies. They found that their device achieved the best electrical performance at a 3:1 ratio of coffee grounds to PCL, with 8 millimeter long pellets, at a vibrational frequency of 2.6 Hertz. These conditions boosted the device’s electrical output to 4.7 V, 75 nA, and 1.3 nC, high enough to power tiny environmental sensors.
The team also tested their device’s long-term durability by comparing its electrical performance before and after 6 months of storage. They observed only a 6% drop in voltage after storage, demonstrating that it could maintain stable long-term electrical performance for at least 6 months.
Finally, to explore real-world applications, the researchers integrated 4 TENGs into a wind-energy harvesting system designed for remote island settings. The system used a wheel of rotating cups to capture wind energy and a sliding mechanism to convert it into repeated shaking of the TENGs. As the TENGs shook, the moving pellets inside generated enough electricity to power an LED light and a small weather-monitoring device.
The researchers concluded that spent coffee grounds can function as biodegradable TENG materials while reducing dependence on fossil fuel-derived materials. By combining coffee waste with biodegradable plastics, the researchers created a TENG with good electrical performance, sustainability, and long-term stability. They suggested that with further development, the device could someday power road warning lights and provide sound-based alerts in remote areas.
In January 2026 alone, the Federal Communications Commission authorized 15,000 Starlink Gen2 satellites. Starcloud has filed for 88,000 orbital data center satellites. SpaceX has filed for 1 million. There is […]
Researchers explored how different dietary changes could reduce the carbon footprint of food consumption. A single change at the dinner table could have a bigger climate impact than many people realize. Researchers in the UK found that replacing just one beef steak per week with salmon could significantly reduce food-related carbon emissions over time. In [...]
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