A male polar bear patrols the pack ice edge in the Chukchi Sea, Alaska. (Florian Schulz / visionsofthewild.com)

As portions of the contiguous United States find themselves (perhaps a bit uncomfortably) in winter’s chilly embrace, a recently published study in the scientific journal Marine Biology may shed new light on the wintry lifestyles of the Arctic regions of our country.

During this season, Arctic areas like the Beaufort and Chukchi seas, off the northern coast of Alaska, experience months of ‘polar nights’—times when the sun fails to make an appearance (making for a veritable vampire haven, one might say).

The extreme degree of coldness of these winter months is key to the survival of species like the polar bear and ringed seals, who depend on the restoration of thick sea ice (long since diminished during the warmer spring and summer months) in order to hunt and raise their young.

Beijing is under all that smog... somewhere... A sight for sore lungs. (William Veerbeek)

Just in time to ring in the Year of the Dragon, a few days ago, Beijing’s infamously murky air gained a long-awaited official index: real-time measurements of the city’s PM2.5 levels.

PM2.5 (also known as soot) are microscopic particulate matter that contribute to the pea soup miasma of air pollution we can all do without. Diesel vehicles and coal-fired power plants are among the biggest sources of this type of pollution. Far from just causing thick layers of unsightly brown haze, PM2.5 is so small that it can worm its way past the body’s natural ability to expel foreign particles, lodging deep within the lungs and causing serious cardiovascular and respiratory harm—and even early death.

Up until last Saturday, the Beijing government only provided measurements of PM10, relatively larger particles which pose less of a threat to human health. Parties interested in the more informative PM2.5 levels relied on @BeijingAir, the mechanized roof-top resident of the U.S. Embassy who has been diligently tweeting PM2.5 and ozone levels at hourly intervals for several years.

A hybrid black-tip shark comes in for a camera close up. (University of Queensland)

Climate change has been accused of being many things, from Imposter to Glacier National Park Name-killer. And now to the list we can add...Interspecies Dating Matchmaker?

A study published last month in Conservation Genetics documented no fewer than 57 instances of hybrid common black-tip (Carcharhinus limbatus) and Australian black-tip (Carcharhinus tilstoni) sharks off the eastern coast of Australia. The number of hybrid sharks previously uncovered in the wild or at your friendly neighborhood aquarium? Zero.

The concept of hybridization between distinct species is not a new one. (Who can forget the wholphin? The pizzly bear?) But what makes this case interesting is the sudden abundance of hybrids in species who, until this time, have (as far as we know) diligently remained within their predefined mating circles.

Kibibi the western lowland gorilla says, "It's an earthquake! Hang on tight!" (National Zoological Park)

Two weeks ago, a peculiar sensation was experienced up and down the Northeast. Some thought it might have been the zombie apocalypse finally unfolding; others, that perhaps they had ingested something disagreeable for lunch. Regardless, it gave more than a few people the unexpected opportunity to stretch their legs—and brush up on disaster preparedness.

Slipping in right before the windy and wet arrival of Hurricane Irene was Washington, D.C.’s strongest earthquake in nearly 70 years. Centered at tiny Mineral, VA, the 5.8 magnitude quake was quite unexpected—who could have predicted its arrival that sunny, summer day?? I’ll tell you who: Iris, Kyle, and Mandara (among others).

In one of the most interesting reports to come out of the Mineral quake, the Smithsonian’s National Zoological Park documented fascinating early warning signs observed among their many and varied residents. Before humans felt a hint of shuddering, rolling or rumbling, inhabitants of locales as varied as the Great Ape House and the Bird House were apparently already reacting …

One member of the turtle invasion poses for a dramatic photo. (Photo: Port Authority of New York and New Jersey)

Here at Monday Reads, we’ve followed the jellyfish typhoon invasion, gardening goat invasion, and wolverine invasion-of-one. Finally, we’ve reached the turtle invasion.

A few weeks ago, New York’s John F. Kennedy International Airport awoke to find its Runway 4L under siege by waves of relentless reptiles. The Associated Press reported that the “slow-motion stampede” rather conveniently got underway just as the morning rush of travelers was trying to get airborne. The onslaught soon swelled to a crescendo of more than 150 diamondback terrapin turtles, plodding determinedly through treacherous territory. Where were they going, that they would risk shell and limb? Let’s just say teens on Spring Break aren’t the only ones who like to get frisky on sandy beaches.

Al (left) and his young girlfriend Patches. (Saul Young / Knoxville News Sentinel)

Two longtime bachelors are proving that it’s never too late to find love.

Al (widowed) and Tex (serially dater) were getting up there in the years and were perhaps more than a bit rusty on the romance angle, neither having enjoyed the company of the fairer sex for decades. But when the lovely Patches and coquettish Corky came to town, all bets were off and these old-timers were back in the game. The girls were nearly half their age, but love knows no boundaries—and these Aldabra giant tortoises were no exception.

Humans have Internet dating sites; Al and Tex had Knoxville Zoo Assistant Curator of Herpetology Michael Ogle. Noting the relative abundance of eligible Aldabra debutantes at Zoo Atlanta, Ogle hatched a plan of romance with his herpetologist colleagues.

"Yes? May I help you?" (Photo courtesy of Erin Callihan / NYU Local)

Polar bears may be the poster child for climate change, but our warming world is affecting flora and fauna up the food chain and down. Birds of prey are no exception. As temperatures change, some areas get drier, others get wetter—and the landscape that the birds have relied on and adapted to becomes increasingly foreign.

For many of us, the active lives of birds can be glimpsed only fleetingly (if at all) through carefully trained binoculars. Thankfully, the Internet—as it has with so many other mysteries of life—has stepped in to help us out.

Cookie the Little Penguin is headed toward something good. Real good.

These days, it seems like the fossil fuel companies are the only ones having gigglefests.

BP checked off a tidy $9.9 billion tax deduction for its handiwork in the Gulf last year. A company calling itself “Making Money Having Fun LLC” is dumping 80 truckloads of coal ash a day onto Bokoshe, OK—a place where it’s become unusual not to know someone with illnesses like cancer or congestive heart disease. And in their rush to capitalize on the gas drilling boom, industry is exploiting loopholes in the Safe Drinking Water Act and Clean Air Act that are large enough to drive leaky fracking wastewater trucks through.

Fortunately, the Internet has stepped in to reassure us that giggles have in fact not been monopolized by climate changing, water polluting, dirty energy enthusiasts. Cookie, a Little Penguin from Cincinnati, has his own set of giggles—which, with a little bit of help, he shares at the end of this video:

You know those humongous shipping containers that traverse the world in smog polluting ships?

Yeah, those. Guess how many go overboard every year. A couple dozen? A few hundred? Try 10,000. Whether it’s due to storms, careless stowing, or an obesity of fellow cargo, these lost containers evidently decided at some point that the great blue yonder was a far better cry than for whatever port they were destined, and took a lurch into watery oblivion.

Laysan albatross chick, washed over by tsunami wave. (Photo: Pete Leary / U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service)

Several hours after the devastating March 11 earthquake and tsunami struck northern Japan, towering waves raced west across the Pacific, engulfing the three tiny islands of Midway Atoll National Wildlife Refuge.

A mere three days earlier, Midway Atoll had been heralding the latest wildlife celebrity to woo human audiences: Wisdom. Not only was she the oldest known wild bird in the United States (“a coyly conservative 60”, who was banded as a breeding adult in 1956), Wisdom was—yet again—a proud albatross mum, having raised at least thirty youngsters throughout her lifetime.

By the early hours of March 12, four successive waves had overrun the low lying refuge, a famed nesting ground for nearly the entire world’s population of Laysan albatrosses, as well as important habitat for the endangered Hawaiian monk seal and the Hawaiian green turtle. In the aftermath, biologists and volunteers dug out more than 300 birds who were trapped in the debris. Thousands more are thought to have been buried alive in their underground nests. Officials estimate that more than 20 percent of this year’s albatross population have been killed—including 110,000 Laysan and black-footed albatross chicks and 2,000 adults—as a result of the tsunami and two severe winter storms that had preceded it.