Enlarge / An artist's conception of one of the last mammoths of Wrangel Island. (credit: Beth Zaiken)

A small group of woolly mammoths became trapped on Wrangel Island around 10,000 years ago when rising sea levels separated the island from mainland Siberia. Small, isolated populations of animals lead to inbreeding and genetic defects, and it has long been thought that the Wrangel Island mammoths ultimately succumbed to this problem about 4,000 years ago.

A paper in Cell on Thursday, however, compared 50,000 years of genomes from mainland and isolated Wrangel Island mammoths and found that this was not the case. What the authors of the paper discovered not only challenges our understanding of this isolated group of mammoths and the evolution of small populations, it also has important implications for conservation efforts today.

A severe bottleneck

It’s the culmination of years of genetic sequencing by members of the international team behind this new paper. They studied 21 mammoth genomes—13 of which were newly sequenced by lead author Marianne Dehasque; others had been sequenced years prior by co-authors Patrícia Pečnerová, Foteini Kanellidou, and Héloïse Muller. The genomes were obtained from Siberian woolly mammoths (Mammuthus primigenius), both from the mainland and the island before and after it became isolated. The oldest genome was from a female Siberian mammoth who died about 52,300 years ago. The youngest were from Wrangel Island male mammoths who perished right around the time the last of these mammoths died out (one of them died just 4,333 years ago).

Enlarge / Upper left: a reconstruction of Diadcetes. Below: false color images of its foot and tail prints. Right: the section of the tail that left the print. (credit: Voigt et. al./Urweltmuseum GEOSKOP.)

Their feet left copious traces in muddy Permian floodplains, leaving tracks scattered across ancient sediments. But in one slab of such trackways, scientists uncovered something more: the trace of an animal’s tail as it dragged across the ground. Strikingly, these tail prints come complete with scale impressions—at 300 million years old, they’re among the earliest scale impressions we have.

This may seem small, but it shows us that some of the hardened skin structures necessary for our ancestors to survive on land had evolved much earlier than previously suspected. A paper published in Biology Letters this past May describes this discovery in detail.

A rare find

The particular slab holding these traces was discovered in 2020 at the Piaskowiec Czerwony quarry in Poland. Mining had stopped to enable paleontologists to search the red sandstone rocks for fossils. Gabriela Calábková described climbing upon “a huge pile of rubble” only to discover a sizable slab of fossil tracks at the very top. There, among one set of footprints, was something new.

Enlarge (credit: IURII BUKHTA)

A key aspect of humans' evolutionary success is the fact that we don't have to learn how to do things from scratch. Our societies have developed various ways—from formal education to YouTube videos—to convey what others have learned. This makes learning how to do things far easier than learning by doing, and it gives us more space to experiment; we can learn to build new things or handle tasks more efficiently, then pass information on how to do so on to others.

Some of our closer relatives, like chimps and bonobos, learn from their fellow species-members. They don't seem to engage in this iterative process of improvement—they don't, in technical terms, have a cumulative culture where new technologies are built on past knowledge. So, when did humans develop this ability?

Based on a new analysis of stone toolmaking, two researchers are arguing that the ability is relatively recent, dating to just 600,000 years ago. That's roughly the same time our ancestors and the Neanderthals went their separate ways.

Enlarge / This is an intact phage. A tailocin looks like one of these with its head cut off. (credit: iLexx)

Long before humans became interested in killing bacteria, viruses were on the job. Viruses that attack bacteria, termed "phages" (short for bacteriophage), were first identified by their ability to create bare patches on the surface of culture plates that were otherwise covered by a lawn of bacteria. After playing critical roles in the early development of molecular biology, a number of phages have been developed as potential therapies to be used when antibiotic resistance limits the effectiveness of traditional medicines.

But we're relative latecomers in terms of turning phages into tools. Researchers have described a number of cases where bacteria have maintained pieces of disabled viruses in their genomes and converted them into weapons that can be used to kill other bacteria that might otherwise compete for resources. I only just became aware of that weaponization, thanks to a new study showing that this process has helped maintain diverse bacterial populations for centuries.

Evolving a killer

The new work started when researchers were studying the population of bacteria associated with a plant growing wild in Germany. The population included diverse members of the genus Pseudomonas, which can include plant pathogens. Normally, when bacteria infect a new victim, a single strain expands dramatically as it successfully exploits its host. In this case, though, the Pseudomonas population contained a variety of different strains that appeared to maintain a stable competition.