Researchers tracked mother-child pairs for up to 11 years, finding Pfas mixtures may affect developing guts
Prenatal and early life exposure to Pfas mixtures is probably linked to higher levels of intestinal inflammation in children, new first-of-its-kind research shows. Intestinal inflammation can cause irritable bowel diseases, like ulcerative colitis, Crohn’s disease and colorectal cancer.
While Pfas has been linked to irritable bowel disease and intestinal inflammation in adults, the new peer-reviewed Mt Sinai study is the first to look at how the chemicals impact children during a critical developmental phase.
If you’ve been anywhere near the internet in recent days, you will likely have seen the viral footage of “Jimothy”: an unusually round raccoon in Seattle that hops and skips along in video filmed by local resident Kiana Hall.
This animal has a very rare congenital deformity called short spine syndrome, where the spine fails to develop properly in utero.
In fact, the condition can affect dogs, calves and other mammals – but is so vanishingly rare that in my entire career, having treated thousand and thousands of small animals, I have never seen a clinical case in real life.
What causes the condition, and can it be fixed?
Short spine syndrome is so exceedingly rare that it’s hard to say exactly why it happens.
When it is seen, it can be in wild or rescue animals – cases where the lineage is hard to map out and study.
What we can say is that the condition results in animals having normal limb length but significantly shorter spines. This gives them the appearance of having no neck and a short, round body. The normal length of spine is compressed and can they look almost spherical.
One notable example is an Instagram-famous dog named Tilly – sometimes known as “Tilly the Friendly Loaf”.
Tilly and Jimothy are clearly survivors.
It’s possible many animals that develop this condition in utero do not survive long; a lot depends on the degree of deformity and how it affects the spinal cord. Many might not live long in utero, or survive birth or the initial months of life.
It would be pretty unusual to have a puppy born with it but you never know; readers may have had dogs like this at home, but it would be just a handful of cases.
The deformity is so severe it would be extremely challenging to try and correct it surgically.
Short spine syndrome throughout history
It’s not a new condition, and has always sparked human attention. In fact, it has been documented in the past via paintings.
One 1968 paper focused on two dogs with the condition that were depicted in the 1600s by Swedish painter David Klocker Ehrenstrahl, who described the dogs as “monster of wolf and dog” and “monster of fox and dog”. One famous painting is titled “Deformed dog”:
The external appearance of “short-spine dogs” was characteristic and very odd.
Resilience and survival
When I saw the footage of Jimothy, it made me think of the resilience of nature. Here is an animal that has had an unlucky start but is getting on with life as best he can, with the support of his amazing mother.
Jimothy’s story is, among other things, about how animals with this condition can adapt, survive and lead a happy life. It shows the resilience of animals in nature – and that’s something we can all draw inspiration from.
Chris Tan holds a governance position with the AO Foundation, which works with veterinary, spine and trauma surgeons to improve outcomes across species.
As the NSW government considers closing 350 kilometres of shoreline to abalone harvesting, divers say the severe decline of the shellfish is due to mismanagement.
Imagine you’re driving down a windy road when you spot an injured possum.
Your instincts might tell you to hit the brakes, check what’s wrong and bundle it into your car.
Research shows many of us want to help wild animals in distress. This may be out of empathy, obligation or simply wanting to do the right thing.
But as Australia rapidly responds to its first cases of H5N1 bird flu, authorities are urging the public to avoid contact with sick or dying wildlife. This conflicts with our innate desire to help.
Our new research shows why “rescuing” a wild animal in distress, despite best intentions, can sometimes lead to unintended consequences.
An ethical challenge
H5N1 bird flu has finally reached all continents, arriving on Australian shores in June via a sick seabird. As of Thursday, there are 17 confirmed cases in Australia.
This deadly virus is highly infectious and can spread between birds, many mammals and some kinds of livestock, zoo animals and pets. It rarely infects humans.
Since the first H5N1 detection in Australia, authorities have consistently asked the public to “avoid, record and report” any sick or dead animals.
This message seems simple. But it aims to balance a complex mix of factors including public health, animal biosecurity and wildlife conservation.
And it begs the question, should we ever rescue ill or injured wildlife?
In our new paper, we used several case studies to illustrate how “saving” distressed wildlife may lead to some complicated problems.
Let’s unpack some of them.
An orphaned magpie
In Australia, hand-rearing orphaned birds and marsupials is one of the most common ways we rescue wildlife. This process typically involves providing an animal with a makeshift nest or pouch, and feeding it an artificial diet. It also requires close contact between the caregiver and the animal.
In many cases, hand-rearing saves animals that would otherwise struggle to survive. However, not all young animals found alone need our help. For many species, the death of offspring is a natural part of life in the wild.
Hand-rearing comes with certain risks. Hand-reared animals may become “imprinted” on humans, whereby they form a strong, long-lasting social attachment to the species that reared them. This may mean they lose their “wildness” and fail to develop the behaviours and skills needed to survive in the wild.
We see this with rescued magpies. There are several well-known cases of people raising rescued magpies alongside dogs and other predatory species, without the necessary permits.
Such activities are illegal in Australia, and highlight the risks of keeping wild animals in captivity for extended periods. Poor fitness, unsuitable nutrition and the harmful perception that wildlife make suitable pets are just three of these risks. These activities can also create conflicts with environmental authorities and wildlife advocates.
A sick wombat
Research suggests demand for wildlfe rescue services are increasing. Generally, wildlife carers and authorities aim to treat sick or distressed animals by bringing them into temporary captivity. Sometimes there are calls to provide treatments to animals remaining in the wild. However, this is not always possible or straightforward.
Take the bare-nosed wombat, for example, a species that’s found across south-eastern Australia. These wombats are susceptible to sarcoptic mange, a severe skin disease that can be fatal if left untreated.
It’s possible to treat affected wombats in the field, but we can also capture and bring them into care. In some cases, euthanasia may be necessary. Each approach comes with certain risks and benefits. And the jury is still out as to what kind of treatment is best from an animal welfare perspective.
Treating unwell animals in the wild can endanger the health of other species if they share the same habitat. For instance, certain parasite treatments – such as moxidectin and fluralaner – may be effective to kill mites on wombats. However, they may contaminate the broader ecosystem.
In the wild, it’s difficult to monitor animals for side effects and locate any that need additional treatment. It’s also harder to curb the spread of disease within a population.
A vulnerable koala
Now let’s consider a koala that’s been injured by a bushfire. It may be possible to treat it for mild burns and smoke inhalation in care. It will also need a steady supply of food, namely the leaves of particular eucalyptus trees. But collecting large amounts of these leaves for hospitalised animals may mean surviving koalas in the fireground go hungry.
Deciding whether to help a wild animal – and how best to treat it if you do – requires careful deliberation, training and ethical judgement.
Wild animals can’t tell us whether they want help or not. And animals may get more stressed if they are handled or placed in captivity.
Licensed wildlife rehabilitators, wildlife veterinarians and government officers are among those who have the tough job of trying to compassionately balance many important factors. These include animal welfare, human safety, environmental health and the responsible use of limited resources.
Those involved in wildlife care must hone their ethical decision-making skills. “Rescuing” an animal may seem simple, but often involves making complex choices.
So before attempting to help a wild animal, it’s best to stop, think and seek advice from those with the necessary experience and expertise.
One helpful tool is the International Fund for Animal Welfare’s Wildlife Rescue App, which can connect you with the closest wildlife rescue group. You should also report any sick or dead birds by ringing the Emergency Animal Disease Hotline on 1800 675 888.
Michelle Campbell-Ward is president of the Zoo and Wildlife Chapter of the Australian and New Zealand College of Veterinary Scientists, an executive committee member of the Australian Veterinary Conservation Biologists and a member of the Wildlife Disease Association. She is a board member of Wildlife Health Australia, a casual employee with Taronga Conservation Society Australia and a recipient of a WIRES National Grant.
Anne Quain has been a consultant or volunteer for Animal Management in Rural and Remote Indigenous Communities, iCatCare, the Cat Protection Society of New South Wales, the Royal Agricultural Society and RSPCA Australia. She is a member of the Australian Veterinary Association and the Australian and New Zealand College of Veterinary Scientists, and a diplomate and subcommittee chair of the European College of Animal Welfare and Behaviour Medicine in Animal Welfare Science, Ethics and Law. She has been a recipient of an Australian Companion Animal Health Foundation Grant, and has undertaken two project-based residencies at The Ethics Centre.
To achieve this, we must collectively curb our net greenhouse gas emissions. These gases – the largest contributor being carbon dioxide (CO?) – act as a cosmic blanket by trapping heat in Earth’s atmosphere.
Scientists are investigating ways to lock up more atmospheric carbon in our oceans, forests and soils.
So how does this process work, and what are the risks?
Let’s unpack the research.
A lesson in ocean chemistry
The ocean is one of the largest carbon stores on the planet. About 30% of the CO? we emit annually – through burning fossil fuels such as coal, oil and gas – are absorbed by our seas.
The ocean’s ability to absorb CO? is largely determined by how alkaline it is. Seawater is naturally alkaline. This is because over millions of years, the ocean has absorbed alkaline minerals from the weathering and breakdown of rocks
By taking up atmospheric carbon, the ocean has helped regulate Earth’s climate over long periods. However, this natural process is far too slow to combat climate change.
That’s where ocean alkalinity enhancement comes in.
Alkalinity enhancement accelerates this carbon capture process by increasing the ocean’s alkalinity. This allows seawater to convert more dissolved CO? into stable forms. As a result, the ocean absorbs more CO? overall and keeps more carbon out of our atmosphere.
While this method seems promising, there are still some unknowns.
Scale
We don’t know whether it’s possible to roll it out at scale, which is key to reaching global net zero targets. Scientists are also investigating how well ocean alkalinity enhancement works in different regions and marine ecosystems.
This means projects must be tailored to specific locations. Our research shows even seemingly minor differences in ocean currents, wind, water depth and seasonal conditions all affect how much CO? can be absorbed.
CSIRO researchers conduct an ocean alkalinity enhancement field test.Harris Anderson
Safety
Early field trials and modelling suggest removing CO? through small-scale alkalinity enhancement projects had few measurable impacts on nearby protected areas.
Several lab-based studies also suggest small increases in alkalinity have little to no effect on some Australian kelp and algae species. Meanwhile, other research identifies limitations on the amount that can be added and ecosystem effects from different alkaline materials.
Scientists are working to add to this evidence base through proposed field tests in the Bass Strait, conducted aboard the RV Investigator. These tests, which will bring together experts and students from across Australia, will help us identify any environmental impacts and hone our skills in measuring changes caused by ocean alkalinity enhancement.
Community support
Without public support, alkalinity enhancement projects are unlikely to be successful. Research suggests communities are somewhat wary. Research from Tasmania shows people prefer to be involved in decision-making processes and not just consulted. Communities also want clear information about the environmental impacts of future projects.
In Australia, we must also engage with First Nations communities when designing field tests and proposed projects. Only then can we draw on their deep knowledge and enduring connection to Sea Country.
Our climate is rapidly changing. And unless we curb our carbon emissions, this trend will only get worse.
Locking up atmospheric carbon dioxide through ocean alkalinity enhancement is one way to do this. However, changing the chemistry of our oceans comes with certain risks and limitations.
So any future attempts must balance the urgent need for atmospheric carbon removal with robust research and meaningful community engagement. This ensures that any ocean alkalinity enhancement is both environmentally responsible and socially supported.
Getting this balance right is essential for Australia and other nations, informing how we steward our seas and other natural resources to reach our ambitious climate targets.
Harris Anderson receives funding from the CSIRO's CarbonLock Future Science Platform.
