The existing boundaries of national parks and other habitat preserves aren’t enough to protect more than three-quarters of the world’s well-studied insects.

The finding, reported February 1 in One Earth, shows that people who design nature preserves “don’t really think about insects that much,” says coauthor Shawan Chowdhury, an ecologist at the German Centre for Integrative Biodiversity Research in Leipzig.

That’s a problem because insect populations around the globe are plummeting, a growing body of research suggests, probably due to climate change and human development (SN: 4/26/22). For instance, insect abundance in Puerto Rico has dropped by up to 98 percent over the last 35 years.
Threats to insect survival could have ripple effects on plants and other animals. Insects help form the foundation for many ecosystems: They pollinate around 80 percent of all plant species and serve as a staple in the diets of hundreds of thousands of animals (and the occasional carnivorous plant).

One way to avert insect extinctions is to set aside the land they need to survive. But scientists know the ranges for only about 100,000 of the estimated 5.5 million insect species. To determine how well existing protected areas may be aiding insect conservation, Chowdhury and colleagues mapped the known habitats of about 89,000 of those species and compared the ranges with the boundaries of preserves from the World Database on Protected Areas.

Overall, these spaces don’t safeguard enough habitat for 67,384 insect species — about 76 percent of the species included in the study — the team found. Roughly 2 percent of species do not overlap with protected areas at all.

Conserving insects, Chowdhury says, will mean setting aside more insect-friendly spaces in the years ahead.

Our planet may have had a recent change of heart.

Earth’s inner core may have temporarily stopped rotating relative to the mantle and surface, researchers report in the January 23 Nature Geoscience. Now, the direction of the inner core’s rotation may be reversing — part of what could be a roughly 70-year-long cycle that may influence the length of Earth’s days and its magnetic field — though some researchers are skeptical.

“We see strong evidence that the inner core has been rotating faster than the surface, [but] by around 2009 it nearly stopped,” says geophysicist Xiaodong Song of Peking University in Beijing. “Now it is gradually mov[ing] in the opposite direction.”
Such a profound turnaround might sound bizarre, but Earth is volatile (SN: 1/13/21). Bore through the ever-shifting crust and you’ll enter the titanic mantle, where behemoth masses of rock flow viscously over spans of millions of years, sometimes upwelling to excoriate the overlying crust (SN: 1/11/17, SN: 3/2/17, SN: 2/4/21). Delve deeper and you’ll reach Earth’s liquid outer core. Here, circulating currents of molten metals conjure our planet’s magnetic field (SN: 9/4/15). And at the heart of that melt, you’ll find a revolving, solid metal ball about 70 percent as wide as the moon.

This is the inner core (SN: 1/28/19). Studies have suggested that this solid heart may rotate within the liquid outer core, compelled by the outer core’s magnetic torque. Researchers have also argued the mantle’s immense gravitational pull may apply an erratic brake on the inner core’s rotation, causing it to oscillate.

Evidence for the inner core’s fluctuating rotation first emerged in 1996. Geophysicist Paul Richards of Columbia University’s Lamont-Doherty Earth Observatory in Palisades, N.Y., and Song, then also at Lamont-Doherty, reported that over a span of three decades, seismic waves from earthquakes took different amounts of time to traverse Earth’s solid heart.

The researchers inferred that the inner core rotates at a different speed than the mantle and crust, causing the time differences. The planet spins roughly 360 degrees in a day. Based on their calculations, the researchers estimated that the inner core, on average, rotates about 1 degree per year faster than the rest of Earth.

But other researchers have questioned that conclusion, some suggesting that the core spins slower than Song and Richards’ estimate or doesn’t spin differently at all.

In the new study, while analyzing global seismic data stretching back to the 1990s, Song and geophysicist Yi Yang — also at Peking University — made a surprising observation.
Before 2009, seismic waves generated by sequences and pairs of repeating earthquakes — known as multiplets and doublets — traveled at different rates through the inner core. This indicated the waves from recurring quakes were crossing different parts of the inner core, and that the inner core was rotating at a different pace than the rest of Earth, aligning with Song’s previous research.

But around 2009, the differences in travel times vanished. That suggested the inner core had ceased rotating with respect to the mantle and crust, Yang says. After 2009, these differences returned, but the researchers inferred that the waves were crossing parts of the inner core that suggested it was now rotating in the opposite direction relative to the rest of Earth.

The researchers then pored over records of Alaskan earthquake doublets dating to 1964. While the inner core appeared to rotate steadily for most of that time, it seems to have made another reversal in rotation in the early 1970s, the researchers say.

Song and Yang infer that the inner core may oscillate with a roughly 70-year periodicity — switching directions every 35 years or so. Because the inner core is gravitationally linked to the mantle and magnetically linked to the outer core, the researchers say these oscillations could explain known 60- to 70-year variations in the length of Earth’s days and the behavior of the planet’s magnetic field. However, more work is needed to pin down what mechanisms might be responsible.

But not all researchers are on board. Yang and Song “identif[y] this recent 10-year period [that] has less activity than before, and I think that’s probably reliable,” says geophysicist John Vidale of the University of Southern California in Los Angeles, who was not involved in the research. But beyond that, Vidale says, things get contentious.

In 2022, he and a colleague reported that seismic waves from nuclear tests show the inner core may reverse its rotation every three years or so. Meanwhile, other researchers have proposed that the inner core isn’t moving at all. Instead, they say, changes to the shape of the inner core’s surface could explain the differences in wave travel times.

Future observations will probably help disentangle the discrepancies between these studies, Vidale says. For now, he’s unruffled by the purported chthonic standstill. “In all likelihood, it’s irrelevant to life on the surface, but we don’t actually know what’s happening,” he says. “It’s incumbent on us to figure it out.”

A flexible electronic implant could one day make pain management a lot more chill.

Created from materials that dissolve in the body, the device encircles nerves with an evaporative cooler. Implanted in rats, the cooler blocked pain signals from zipping up to the brain, bioengineer John Rogers and colleagues report in the July 1 Science.

Though far from ready for human use, a future version could potentially let “patients dial up or down the pain relief they need at any given moment,” says Rogers, of Northwestern University in Evanston, Ill.
Scientists already knew that low temperatures can numb nerves in the body. Think of frozen fingers in the winter, Rogers says. But mimicking this phenomenon with an electronic implant isn’t easy. Nerves are fragile, so scientists need something that gently hugs the tissues. And an ideal implant would be absorbed by the body, so doctors wouldn’t have to remove it.

Made from water-soluble materials, the team’s device features a soft cuff that wraps around a nerve like toilet paper on a roll. Tiny channels snake down its rubbery length. When liquid coolant that’s pumped through the channels evaporates, the process draws heat from the underlying nerve. A temperature sensor helps scientists hit the sweet spot — cold enough to block pain but not too cold to damage the nerve.

The researchers wrapped the implant around a nerve in rats and tested how they responded to having a paw poked. With the nerve cooler switched on, scientists could apply about seven times as much pressure as usual before the animals pulled their paws away. That’s a sign that the rats’ senses had grown sluggish, Rogers says.

He envisions the device being used to treat pain after surgery, rather than chronic pain. The cooler connects to an outside power source and would be tethered to patients like an IV line. They could control the level of pain relief by adjusting the coolant’s flow rate. Such a system might offer targeted relief without the downsides of addictive pain medications like opioids, Rogers suggests (SN: 8/27/19).

Now the researchers want to explore how long they can apply the cooling effect without damaging tissues, Rogers says. In experiments, the longest that they cooled rats’ nerves was for about 15 minutes.

“If treating pain, cooling would have to go on for a much longer period of time,” says Seward Rutkove, a nerve physiologist at Harvard Medical School who wasn’t involved in the study. Still, he adds, the device is “an interesting proof of concept and should definitely be pursued.”