Research

Wildfire’s toll on animals went largely unreported, researchers show

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 27 Apr 2026 18:10:13 +0000

Wildfire’s toll on animals went largely unreported, researchers show Rachel Sauer Mon, 04/27/2026 - 12:10

Clint Talbott

After the Marshall Fire, researchers at 91��ý and Western Washington University muse on why animals disappear from disaster stories and suggest a remedy

When the Marshall Fire swept through Boulder County on Dec. 30, 2021, it killed two people and destroyed 1,084 homes. Colorado’s governor called the relatively modest loss of human life a “New Year’s miracle.”

As University of Colorado Boulder sociologist Leslie Irvine later found, however, the wildfire also killed more than 1,000 companion animals who were trapped in homes that rapidly incinerated while their people were at work, traveling or stuck in evacuation traffic.

New research from Irvine and Cameron Whitley, a sociology professor at Western Washington University, quantifies the extent to which the loss of sentient animal life was overlooked by public officials and the news media.

In recently published research, 91��ý sociologist Leslie Irvine and colleague Cameron Whitely quantify the extent to which the loss of sentient animal life was overlooked by public officials and the news media following the Marshall Fire.

For many residents, the toll was devastating but largely invisible.

Out of 981 news stories published in the two months after the fire, only 16% mentioned animals at all. Fewer than 5% focused on animals in their coverage. Government officials mentioned animal loss in less than 1% of public statements.

“What surprised me most wasn’t just what showed up in the media,” Whitley says of the research, which was recently published in the journal Anthrozoös. “It was what didn’t—especially considering how many people think of their animals as family.”

For Irvine, now retired from 91��ý but still deeply engaged with the work, the Marshall Fire reopened questions she had hoped never to revisit.

Two decades earlier, after Hurricane Katrina, Irvine wrote Filling the Ark: Animal Welfare in Disasters, a groundbreaking book documenting how disaster-response systems failed people with pets—and how those failures increased human risk as well. After Katrina, Congress passed the PETS Act, requiring emergency plans to account for companion animals.

“I said I would never study disasters and animals again,” Irvine recalls. “It was too devastating.”

Then the Marshall Fire struck Boulder County “right in my backyard,” she says. Whitley, who grew up in nearby Lafayette and earned his BA from 91��ý, came to the project with both scholarly training and knowledge of personal loss.

“As people were grieving animals—pets, wildlife, livestock—they kept telling me the same thing,” Whitley says. “They weren’t seeing that grief reflected anywhere.”

Using systematic content analysis, Whitley and his co-authors coded every Marshall Fire news story published by local, state and national outlets in the fire’s immediate aftermath. They tracked when animals appeared, how they were framed, and—critically—when entire categories of loss vanished.

Domestic pets received the most attention, but usually as side notes to evacuation instructions or “feel‑good” reunion stories. Agricultural animals were typically counted collectively—horses evacuated, livestock lost—rarely described as individuals. Wildlife barely appeared at all.

“The default hierarchy is still very clear,” Irvine says. “Humans first. Then property. Animals come after—if at all.”

When the ‘hierarchy’ obscures the truth

“The only thing some families have left of their animals is a burned‑out food bowl. That alone should tell us something about what we’re failing to see,” says 91��ý researcher Leslie Irvine. (Photo: Patti Benninghoff-Lawson)

That hierarchy persists despite decades of research showing that people routinely risk their lives for animals during disasters. Some refuse to evacuate without them. Others re‑enter burn zones to try to rescue them—sometimes requiring rescue themselves.

In fact, one of the two human fatalities in the Marshall fire was Edna Turnbull, who died while trying to rescue her dogs. “Turnbull’s refusal to leave without making sure her companion animals were safe is not unique,” Whitley and Irvine write.

From an economic or safety standpoint alone, Irvine argues, ignoring animals is irrational. She contends: “If government officials took animals seriously in disasters, they would reduce risks to first responders, reduce chaos and improve outcomes for everyone.”

One consequence of invisibility is what Whitley calls unrecognized grief. He cites research showing that losing a companion animal can provoke grief comparable to losing a human family member. But when that loss is absent from public discourse, grieving people also feel isolated, he observes, adding:

“In the LA County fires we’re studying now, people talk about losing their home as something they could move past. Losing their animal, or being forced to give that animal up months later because of housing instability, that’s what they say they’ll never recover from.”

That secondary grief rarely appears in disaster coverage. Nor do the long‑term consequences that follow fires even after humans rebuild.

Irvine points to toxic exposure as an underreported crisis. Dogs in burn zones may now need booties and paw decontamination. Outdoor cats may carry contaminants inside. Veterinarians report increases in respiratory illness and unexplained deaths among animal patients months or years later.

Merlin, a cat injured during the Marshall Fire, has since recovered. (Photo: Shelby Davis/Soul Dog Rescue)

“These aren’t dramatic images,” Irvine says. “They don’t fit into breaking news. But they shape everyday life for years.”

“We tend to act as though a disaster ends once people rebuild their homes. But for people with animals, the disaster often continues for the rest of those animals’ lives—through toxic exposure, long‑term illness and ongoing grief.”

Why journalism struggles with animals

The researchers note the challenges facing journalists. Disaster coverage focuses on what can be confirmed quickly, counted easily and tied to economic loss.

“Homes and infrastructure are quantifiable,” Whitley says. “Animals aren’t, unless they’re agricultural, and even then, they’re usually listed as numbers, not lives.”

The media also gravitate toward redemptive narratives—pets reunited with families, miraculous survivals—rather than mass loss without resolution.

“There’s a kind of collective discomfort with stories that don’t offer closure,” Irvine says.

Whitley notes that journalists are reporting statements of public officials, whose focus is on humans and property. “Less than 1% of official government statements mentioned animals at all. That’s not just a media problem; that’s a policy failure.”

But when animals disappear from disaster coverage, so do the people who love them.

The study offers a suggestion on disaster reporting: prioritize sentient life—human and nonhuman alike—before property loss.

“This isn’t about placing animals above people,” Whitley says. “It’s about telling the whole story.”

As climate‑driven disasters become more frequent, these questions will arise more frequently, the researchers note.

“The Marshall Fire taught us that firestorms are no longer remote or rare,” Irvine says. “And it showed us something else—that we are still failing to see whole parts of our communities when disaster strikes.”

Whitley adds: “When we talk about disasters, we celebrate the minimal loss of human life—while thousands of animals die without acknowledgement. For the people who lost them, that silence matters.”

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After the Marshall Fire, researchers at 91��ý and Western Washington University muse on why animals disappear from disaster stories and suggest a remedy.

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A new (and not extinct) moth emerges from the Florida Scrub

Rachel Sauer — Fri, 24 Apr 2026 14:20:20 +0000

A new (and not extinct) moth emerges from the Florida Scrub Rachel Sauer Fri, 04/24/2026 - 08:20

Rachel Sauer

After publishing about a moth he’d only seen in collections, 91��ý researcher Ryan St Laurent travels to Florida and spots the elusive—and previously thought extinct—Cicinnus albarenicolus

On the second of two nights he spent deep in central Florida forests last week—dripping sweat, shrouded in swarms of flying ants and June beetles, well into the 20 kilometers he’d eventually walk monitoring his four traps—Ryan St Laurent saw the thing he’d come, but didn’t really expect, to see.

To anyone who hadn’t spent a dozen years studying it, the sandy brown wisp might have looked like a fragment of autumn leaf or a shred of bark, but St Laurent immediately recognized Cicinnus albarenicolus. He’d just never seen the moth alive before, let alone in the wild.

In fact, until November, St Laurent thought this new species of Mimallonidae, or sack-bearer moth, might be extinct (DNA barcoding of moth specimens in collections had identified it as a new species). Before November, it hadn’t been seen in its extremely limited Florida habitat since the 1960s.

Ryan St Laurent, a 91��ý assistant professor of ecology and evolutionary biology and CU Museum curator of entomology, traveled to Florida last week to try finding the elusive Cicinnus albarenicolus moth.

When news came that a collector had found one of the presumed-extinct moths in a sliver of white sand scrub in the Florida peninsula, St Laurent, a University of Colorado Boulder assistant professor of ecology and evolutionary biology and CU Museum curator of entomology, had just finished writing a recently published paper describing the new C. albarenicolus, comparing it with other Mimallonidae species.

“I had written that it might be extinct, so I had to revise the paper and bring in some additional co-authors,” St Laurent says. Then he learned about an upcoming scheduled burn in one of the very few areas where C. albarenicolus conceivably could be found, so he booked a flight to Florida.

“I don’t think this is the only population in existence, and I don’t think it’s going to get burned up and go extinct,” St Laurent said several days before flying to Florida. “But I want to go out there and at least try to get a couple of tissue samples in the event we can’t find it again.”

Needles and haystacks don’t adequately encompass his aim; he was trying to find a small brown moth in a 450,000-acre forest.

‘These look really cool’

But how does a scientist first steer his scholarship to a little-known and barely studied family of moths, a member of which may or may not have been extinct? For St Laurent, the path began during undergrad at Cornell, where he studied entomology and worked with museum insect collections. The collections manager encouraged him to find something that nobody else was working on, “but there was a lot of competition in butterflies and moths—it’s a popular group as far as insects go,” he explains.

“I remember going through the collection, asking, ‘What am I going to work on?’ when I came across this particular family (of moth). I was like, ‘Well, these look really cool,’ but when I went to try to curate them, I realized there were no resources, no books, no field guides, nothing.”

Perfect, he thought. If nobody was working on that family, he would. He wrote his undergraduate honors thesis then pursued his PhD in charting the phylogeny, or tree of life, of this small group of moths. “Once you have a tree of life, you can start talking about them and you can contextualize them as a member of bigger butterfly and moth groups,” he says.

It wasn’t until St Laurent got to the Smithsonian for his postdoc that he had a chance to order mitochondrial sequencing on one of the Mimallonidae specimens that he’d identified as different from its family members. That sequencing showed it was genetically different from anything else in its family, so when St Laurent came to 91��ý, he continued the project of sequencing specimens from various collections.

The female Cicinnus albarenicolus moth (left) that flew out of the darkness of Seminole State Forest in Florida last week, and Ryan St Laurent (right) holding the twig on which it perched.

Most of the specimens were many decades old, compounding the challenges of genetic sequencing. St Laurent worked with a Canadian lab that specializes in barcode sequencing—a technique that focuses on short sequences of genes—sending them prepared samples for testing. In one instance, St Laurent sampled the leg of one of the few recent specimens, which he put on a sequencing plate and sent to Canada in January, looking for further evidence that this was, in fact, a new species of moth.

The genes didn’t lie: It was.

A moth flies out of the darkness

As if discovering a new species isn’t a big enough deal, discovering that it’s not extinct after all is enough to drive any researcher from the lab and straight into the Florida thickets.

Among the things that make Mimallonidae interesting, St Laurent says, is they belong to a superfamily with ancient lineage—more than 100 million years old—99% of which live in Central and South America. Only a handful of species in the family occur in North America, but the ones that do are (mostly) quite common.

Ryan St Laurent set up four insect traps with moth-attractant LED lights.

Except, of course, for C. albarenicolus—endemic to small patches of Florida Scrub, made rarer still by habitat loss. “Only 10% of Florida Scrub is left,” St Laurent said before leaving for Florida, “and the scrub that does still exist is super isolated. We don’t know if those little pockets can support this moth at all.”

Through some scientific sleuthing and mapping the locations where collection specimens had been found, St Laurent narrowed possible C. albarenicolus habitat to six sites in the Florida peninsula: eastern Ocala National Forest, Weeki Wachee north of Tampa, Cassia and Cassadaga northeast of Orlando, the Archbold Biological Station on the Lake Wales Ridge in Central Florida and coastal southeast Florida in Port Sewall. Each location has or had the rare Florida Scrub habitat—specifically white sand, open canopy scrub, which C. albarenicolus seemed to favor.

“This particular family of moths, there’s a reason nobody studies them,” St Laurent said before leaving for Florida. “They’re really hard to find and really hard to raise in captivity. I’ve done field work all over the Americas, and I’m lucky if I see one or two a night in Central or South America. I’m very used to not being able to find these things, which is why I do a lot of work in collections.”

Still, he had to try. He flew to Orlando and then drove to the township of Cassia. He had previously seen a specimen in the American Museum of Natural History in New York City that had been found near Cassia in 1964. “I knew about that specimen, I knew the scrub in that area because I went hiking there years ago in grad school and found caterpillars, but I didn’t rear them,” St Laurent says, so that’s where he started.

The first night, he set up four traps resembling tall, narrow tents with a specialized moth-attractive LED inside—the aim being to lure insects to the light. Other insects arrived in the thousands, but no C. albarenicolus.

The second night, he set up at a spot in the nearby Seminole State Forest where the trees open to an expanse of sandy soil and scrubby plants. At 8:49 p.m., “I’m standing there and this kind of pinkish moth comes out of the darkness, and it was very recognizable. Nothing else really looks like that, moth-wise.”

After that first moth, two more came. St Laurent knew he was seeing females, which fly right after sunset, so he collected them and raced them to his colleagues at the University of Florida in Gainesville. Collecting live females means collecting eggs, with the attendant potential of rearing them in the lab. If his colleagues are able to rear them, he says, he will receive progenitors and offspring.

As for seeing a moth that he’d only previously seen as a collection specimen, “I was just like, ‘Wow, I was right! It is here!’ My suspicion is the moth is all over the place in Ocala, but it’s rare and diffuse there. It’s a much more concentrated site in Seminole, surrounded by hardwood hammocks and the St. Johns and Wekiva rivers, so you have a better chance of finding something there.”

The site in the Ocala National Forest is scheduled for a controlled burn associated with Florida scrub jay management, “which is probably good in the overall grand scheme of things,” St Laurent says, “but since we don’t know what the moth eats or when it’s active or its annual lifecycle or habitat requirements, I don’t know if the burning regime is appropriate.

“(The moth is) part of Florida’s multimillion-year history, and Florida is the only place in the world where it occurs. It may not be some top-down species that’s controlling the habitat, but it’s still a very important representative of the one-sixth of its family that’s found in North America, and this one is the only species endemic to the U.S. in this family. It’s a part of Florida heritage and U.S. heritage, and we need to protect it.”

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After publishing about a moth he’d only seen in collections, 91��ý researcher Ryan St Laurent travels to Florida and spots the elusive—and previously thought extinct—Cicinnus albarenicolus.

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Drinking alone is a risky business

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 21 Apr 2026 19:56:36 +0000

Drinking alone is a risky business Rachel Sauer Tue, 04/21/2026 - 13:56

Clay Bonnyman Evans

Solitary alcohol consumption is connected to poorer cognitive function among older adults, 91��ý researcher Carillon Skrzynski finds

Studies regarding the potential risks—and benefits—of alcohol use have reached widely differing conclusions, from suggesting that moderate alcohol use may have benefits for health to arguing that any amount of alcohol consumption ultimately puts drinkers’ health at risk.

But researchers seem to agree on at least one thing: Drinking alone is a red flag.

“Solitary drinking is associated with many different negative consequences and correlates,” says Carillon Skrzynski, an assistant research professor at the University of Colorado Boulder’s Center for Health and Neuroscience, Genes, and Environment, or CU Change. “It’s a very risky drinking pattern.”

Carillon Skrzynski, an assistant research professor in the 91��ý Center for Health and Neuroscience, Genes, and Environment (CU Change), and her research colleagues studied solitary drinking in older adulthood, connecting it to poorer objective and subjective cognitive function.

She should know. She wrote her dissertation at Carnegie Mellon University on solitary alcohol consumption and has published two meta-analyses on the subject.

But to date, little research has examined solitary drinking specifically among older people. Despite that, Skrzynski says “there is a higher prevalence of drinking alone the older you get.”

Using a dataset collected to study cannabis and common complaints in older adults compiled by Angela Bryan, professor of psychology and neuroscience and co-director at CU Change, Skrzynski was able to analyze how solitary drinking affects cognitive function.

She and Bryan published the results of the study in the journal Frontiers in Aging Neuroscience.

“Our results expand knowledge of solitary drinking in older adulthood by connecting it to poorer objective and subjective cognitive function,” the authors concluded.

Skrzynski analyzed 342 individuals aged 60 or older who completed the Rey Auditory Verbal Learning Test—an objective measure of verbal memory involving word recall—and subjective cognition via the Functional Assessment of Cancer Therapy-Cognitive Function questionnaire, on which subjects self-assess their cognitive function.

The study compared these outcomes among older adults who drank alone, those who drank only socially and those who did not drink alcohol at all, among other aims. (Subjects who engaged in hazardous alcohol use were precluded from the study.)

“Those who drank only socially had better cognitive functioning than both those who drank solitarily and the non-drinking group,” she says. As noted in the paper, this may suggest a potential inverted U-shaped curve wherein both solitary drinking and non-drinking may be associated with poorer cognitive function compared to social-only drinking and therefore signal risk in this domain.

The research did not examine reasons why older adults may choose to consume alcohol alone.

“That’s a crucial point—what is motivating their behavior? Often people are using (alcohol) to cope with negative emotions,” she says. “The self-medication hypothesis suggests that using substances to heal oneself can be maladaptive.”

“People drink all kinds of ways for all kinds of reasons. Not every older person who is drinking alone is doing it in a harmful way. One person may have an occasional glass of wine by themselves with their dinner while another may drink an entire bottle of wine alone every night. These are very different scenarios,” says 91��ý scientist Carillon Skrzynski.

However, she emphasizes that solitary drinking does not necessarily imply that a person is engaged in problematic drinking or has an alcohol use disorder, especially among older adults.

“People drink all kinds of ways for all kinds of reasons. Not every older person who is drinking alone is doing it in a harmful way,” she says. “One person may have an occasional glass of wine by themselves with their dinner while another may drink an entire bottle of wine alone every night. These are very different scenarios.”

But Skrzynski notes that even if moderate social consumption of alcohol may have benefits for cognition, other research suggests any alcohol consumption at all may increase risks for cancer and other diseases.

“It’s a mixed bag,” she says.

Future research on the subject can be refined and expanded, the paper suggests, including examinations of data samples “with varied patterns of alcohol consumption, and cognitive functioning utilizing diverse subjective and objective measures over longer periods of time.”

“For example, the Rey (test) is objective, but it only measures one domain of objective cognition, verbal memory,” Skrzynski says. Another avenue of research is polysubstance use, or use of multiple substances, and how that is related to social context and outcomes. “How does co-use of alcohol and cannabis in solitary settings affect people?” Skrzynski wonders.

Overall, she says, solitary drinking seems to be a risky drinking pattern, even for older individuals who may be more likely to engage in it. Thus, further research on this population is necessary to continue to understand and ultimately mitigate any harm of alcohol consumption in this context.

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Solitary alcohol consumption is connected to poorer cognitive function among older adults, 91��ý researcher Carillon Skrzynski finds.

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How important is good sleep after a head injury?

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 14 Apr 2026 21:46:46 +0000

How important is good sleep after a head injury? Rachel Sauer Tue, 04/14/2026 - 15:46

Blake Puscher

Research suggests that disrupted or fragmented sleep after a traumatic brain injury not only interferes with the healing process but also has long-term consequences for brain health

Millions of Americans, and far more people worldwide, report sustaining a traumatic brain injury (TBI) each year. While detection and treatment of TBI have improved over time, this has resulted in new challenges, because survivors may face additional health problems over time as a consequence of their injuries. These problems can include cognitive impairment and even neurodegeneration, including Alzheimer’s. Considering this, there is an increased interest in what factors determine how well TBI patients recover.

Rachel Rowe, an assistant professor of integrative physiology at the University of Colorado Boulder, has investigated this question, along with a number of researchers from The Ohio State University and the University of Arizona College of Medicine, in a recent study linking low-quality sleep following traumatic brain injury to cognitive impairment, persistent inflammation and delayed healing.

Rachel Rowe, a 91��ý assistant professor of integrative physiology, collaborated on research linking low-quality sleep following traumatic brain injury to cognitive impairment, persistent inflammation and delayed healing.

The study used mice as a controlled experimental model to examine how sleep fragmentation interacts with traumatic brain injury, following the National Institutes of Health Guidelines for the Care and Use of Laboratory Mice, and with approval from Ohio State’s Institutional Animal Care and Use Committee.

Sleep fragmentation, inflammation and microglia

The study did not look at total sleep loss, but instead at sleep fragmentation, which happens when sleep is repeatedly interrupted. Even brief awakenings can prevent the brain from staying asleep long enough to reach the deeper, more restorative stages of sleep. When sleep is broken up many times throughout the night, people may spend less time in these restorative phases, which are important for physical recovery and brain health. Unfortunately, fragmented sleep is common and can be caused by everyday factors such as noise, hospital monitoring, discomfort or changes in temperature.

“For instance,” Rowe says, if someone is in the hospital for a moderate brain injury, “then there are a lot of people coming in, they’re checking monitors, they’re doing activities that could disrupt the sleep of a person.”

Stress can also affect the quality of sleep. “We have got a lot of things in our society that disrupt our sleep,” Rowe says, and people do not always prioritize restful sleep after an injury. These types of disturbances may influence recovery following brain injury.

One reason for this is inflammation, which is a potential determiner of the long-term results of TBI, particularly whether it will result in neurodegeneration. Brain inflammation is an innate immune response initiated by cells called microglia. Similar to a fever, inflammation does not directly target infections, damaged cells or other threats but rather makes the body inhospitable to them. This allows for a quick response to potentially life-threatening challenges, but it can also damage the body if it goes on for too long. One reason that could happen is if the microglia are primed.

When the brain faces some kind of stress, like from an injury or from sleep fragmentation, the microglia become primed, meaning they respond more strongly to subsequent challenges.

“There is some memory in your immune system,” Rowe explains. “That is how vaccinations work. In the case of a brain injury, if it is mixed with sleep fragmentation, it is what we call a two-hit model.” When both stressors come in short succession, “that can change what the microglia are doing,” potentially resulting in a heightened or prolonged inflammatory response in the brain.

Preparation and testing

The mice were split into four groups. Some mice were given traumatic brain injuries using lateral fluid percussion injury, a well-established experimental model used to study TBI in rodents. Other mice were not given traumatic brain injuries, but were put through the same preparation process, so the only difference was that they went uninjured.

Additionally, some mice experienced sleep fragmentation while others did not. Ultimately, the groups were traumatic brain injury (TBI) with sleep fragmentation (SF), TBI without SF, uninjured with SF, and uninjured without SF. This design allowed the researchers to examine the independent and combined effects of injury and sleep disruption.

Sleep fragmentation was achieved through disturbances that happened automatically every two minutes for five hours per day during the early light phase, when mice normally obtain most of their sleep. All mice experienced a simulated light/dark cycle where each half lasted 12 hours. Sleep fragmentation began an hour before the end of the dark period and ended four hours after the beginning of the light period.

“Mice are nocturnal,” Rowe says, “so the study was designed to fragment their sleep right at the beginning of the light period, which is when mice normally get most of their sleep. In many ways, it’s similar to repeatedly waking a person just as they are trying to fall asleep at night.”

The mice’s sleep, including both when they were asleep and how long they stayed asleep, was measured using specialized piezoelectric sensors. This technology has been popularized recently through its use to generate electricity from people walking on piezoelectric tiles in places with heavy foot traffic in Japan. The sensors from the study work according to the same principle, transforming pressure from the mice’s movements into electrical signals.

“Sleep is a time when the brain can heal, and if that is disrupted, the healing process can be disrupted too,” says 91��ý scientist Rachel Rowe. (Photo: Mart Production/Pexels)

“When a mouse drops into sleep,” Rowe explains, “their breathing gets really rhythmic at 3 hertz.” The frequency of pressure created by that breathing was distinguished from the way mice breathe when they are resting using an algorithm.

Sleep fragmentation continued for 14 days following injury. After this period, mice were allowed to recover with normal sleep conditions, and researchers evaluated behavioral and molecular outcomes. One of the behavioral assessments used was the Morris Water Maze, a common test of spatial learning and memory in rodents. In this task, mice learn to locate a hidden platform in a pool using spatial cues in the environment. Their ability to remember and efficiently navigate to the platform reflects spatial memory performance.

How good sleep improves outcomes

When tested in the Morris water maze, mice with TBIs who also experienced sleep fragmentation used random search strategies, indicating that they did not learn the cues or that they did not remember them. This means that sleep fragmentation after this type of injury could impair spatial learning and memory.

“If there are cognitive deficits, then the mouse is looking at those cues, but it does not know which one is near the platform. It is just searching randomly because it does not know what it is supposed to be doing,” Rowe says.

Researchers also looked at what was happening inside the brains of the mice. They found that when brain injury was combined with disrupted sleep, the brain showed stronger signs of inflammation and less activity in the genes involved in repairing and rebuilding connections between brain cells. These connections, called synapses, allow brain cells to communicate with each other and are important for recovery after injury. In other words, poor sleep after a brain injury appeared to increase inflammation while slowing some of the brain’s natural repair processes. In contrast, mice that had a brain injury but were able to sleep normally showed stronger signs of these repair pathways being activated.

There were 14 days for the mice to recover from sleep fragmentation before these results were measured, and they had 30 days to recover from the injury itself. This indicates that the consequences were long-term or chronic.

“When we are looking at rodents,” Rowe says, “their lifespan is much shorter than humans’.” In mouse studies, researchers often consider about one month after injury to represent a chronic time point. “So, when we see effects at 30 days in a mouse, it suggests that the biological changes are lasting well beyond the immediate injury period.”

While animal models cannot directly predict human timelines, these findings indicate that sleep disruption shortly after a brain injury may have long-term consequences for recovery.

“The chronic time period is when you start thinking about longer-term consequences of brain injury,” Rowe says. If inflammation persists beyond the initial injury phase, even at lower levels, it can create an environment that interferes with normal brain recovery. “You can start to see sustained inflammatory signaling, stress on neurons and changes that may contribute to neurodegenerative diseases over time.”

In summary, when combined with sleep fragmentation, TBI can weaken spatial learning and memory, cause persistent inflammation and prevent proper healing. If this inflammation continues for long enough, it can cause serious, permanent damage to the brain, potentially resulting in long-term neurological consequences or pathology associated with neurodegenerative diseases like Alzheimer’s.

“Sleep is a time when the brain can heal,” Rowe says, “and if that is disrupted, the healing process can be disrupted too.” Ultimately, the study shows that “if you are not protecting sleep after a concussion or brain injury, there are some long-term consequences through inflammatory pathways, and that can delay your healing process.”

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Research suggests that disrupted or fragmented sleep after a traumatic brain injury not only interferes with the healing process but also has long-term consequences for brain health.

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How local journalists help Brazil’s favelas endure

Rachel Sauer — Thu, 09 Apr 2026 20:12:09 +0000

How local journalists help Brazil’s favelas endure Rachel Sauer Thu, 04/09/2026 - 14:12

Cody DeBos

91��ý sociologist Molly Todd finds that community newspapers were vital for people living in Brazil’s favelas during the COVID-19 pandemic

When the COVID-19 pandemic hit Rio de Janeiro in early 2020, residents of the favelas Maré and Rocinha faced a crisis of communication. Public health messages in Brazil were contradictory—including the government’s denial of COVID-19. Like so many under-resourced and overlooked communities, the roughly 210,000 residents of these favelas received information laden with jargon, misinformation and directives that did not align with their daily realities.

Fortunately, inside the favelas, local newspapers like Maré de Notícias and Fala Roça were picking up the slack. They offered readers humor and solidarity while providing their communities with a shared sense of direction that helped them survive the pandemic.

For Molly Todd, an assistant teaching professor in the University of Colorado Boulder’s Department of Sociology and the International Affairs Program, this grassroots journalism stood out.

Molly Todd, a 91��ý assistant teaching professor of sociology, and her research colleagues found that community newspapers were an important source of information in Brazil's favela neighborhoods during the COVID-19 pandemic.

“We really wanted to understand what it was they were doing in the face of a global pandemic that made them such important pillars of their communities,” she says.

Todd and an interdisciplinary team of co-authors recently published a study in the Journal of Urban Affairs examining how these two community-run newspapers helped guide residents through the pandemic and endure it with dignity. The project, which included scholars from Brazil and the U.S., offers a new lens on crisis response and who gets to tell the ensuing stories.

City within a city

Brazil’s favelas are often misrepresented in the media. They tend to be depicted as chaotic and dangerous places that tourists to sunny Rio de Janeiro should avoid. While favelas do struggle with crime and drug trafficking, they’re also rich with social networks, political activism and neighborhood pride.

Speaking of the teams behind Maré de Notícias and Fala Roça, Todd says, “These are journalists who are rooted in the places they report on. They’re talking about things that are very much on the minds of folks living next door in these communities.”

Residents of Maré and Rocinha, which are densely populated urban areas often excluded from formal infrastructure, have long relied on information from community sources. When COVID-19 arrived, this network became even more critical.

“In many cases, favelas are characterized by both hyper surveillance and neglect. The state is failing to meet the basic needs of its residents while disproportionately policing them—even though they’re Brazilian citizens who should have the full rights that other citizens have,” Todd says.

During the pandemic, state-led responses were lacking. Official communication was slow and often misleading. Moreover, widely shared health advice was rarely tailored to the unique realities of favela life.

That’s where the community newspapers stepped in.

“They were very clear about the fact that they wanted to be sources of credible information, sources of timely information and sources of information that were contextualized for the community,” Todd says.

Stay safe, stay sane

Todd and her team of researchers collaborated to analyze how Maré de Notícias and Fala Roça responded to the pandemic. One team member, Vanessa Guerra, was interested in a central theme early on: resilience.

Fala Roça is one of the community newspapers that served as a vital source of information during the COVID-19 pandemic for people living in Rio De Janeiro's favela neighborhoods. (Photo: Fala Roça)

“We often talk about resilience as if it’s just ‘bouncing back,’ but that misses a lot of the bigger story behind-the-scenes of how people survive,” Todd says. She adds that discussions of resilience need to include a critique of the systemic oppression that produces the need to be resilient in the first place.

Informationally, the favela newspapers filled gaps left by the state. They ran myth-busting columns, answered readers’ questions and provided updates on local infection rates. They provided regular COVID updates and used WhatsApp to circulate infographics, FAQs and emergency contacts.

But information was just the start. The papers also nurtured archives of community culture and memorials for those who didn’t survive. One article collected portraits of neighbors lost to the virus. Another ran a photo series of the newly empty public spaces in Maré paired with poetic reflections from the community.

“They were doing this work of archiving sort of how a community comes through a moment like this together,” Todd says.

Who gets to speak?

Mainstream coverage of Brazil’s favelas often skews toward the negative, focusing on issues like violence and poverty. During the pandemic, that narrative sharpened to portray the neighborhoods as volatile, ungovernable zones where health guidance was ignored.

The favela newspapers told a different story—one of hope, community and organizing for a future. That was something Todd and her fellow researchers wanted to capture and preserve.

Todd has continued to explore questions of representation, voice and power in other projects related to Maré. At 91��ý, she organized an interactive visual and textual library exhibit called Maré from the Inside. Hosted in Norlin Library from September 2025 to February 2026, the exhibit was intended to “[c]enter and display the intellectual and artistic production of the mostly Black and indigenous residents of Complexo da Maré. . . . The project leverages art’s pedagogical potential with the hope to contribute to a more nuanced public understanding of favelas.”

“There’s so much history of academics just extracting from communities, writing about them and then leaving. It’s not really been a reciprocal process,” says 91��ý scholar Molly Todd, emphasizing the importance of collaborating with local communities on projects that benefit their interests. (Photo: Wolf Schram/Unsplash)

Reflecting on the work her team put in, Todd asks, “How can we produce a memory of a place marked by so many erasures? Can this memory help us imagine a different future? How do we encounter unfamiliar places in ethical ways and relate across our differences?”

Visitors were able to walk through a favela story on their own terms, feeling immersed in the ways neighbors cared for each other and allowed creativity to thrive even in an incredibly dark time. They also took in workshops, panels and tours hosted by artists in residence surrounding the exhibit’s opening.

Artists participating in the exhibit included Henrique Gomes da Silva, Andreza Jorge, Paulo Vitor Lino, Wallace Lino, Dayana Sabany, Francisco Valdean and Antonello Veneri. Exhibit organizers included Nicholas Barnes, Andreza Jorge, Henrique Gomes da Silva, Desirée Poets and Molly Todd.

What we can learn from favela newsrooms

Though Todd’s study and the Maré from the Inside exhibit focus on Brazil, she believes the lessons within apply far beyond the borders of Latin America.

“If we want people to feel safe and informed in a crisis, we need to think about trust,” she says.

Top-down communication often fails to resonate with marginalized communities, breeding distrust and false narratives. Local journalism led by people with lived experience can be the link that builds enduring relationships in their communities.

As for her involvement, Todd reiterates the importance of collaborating with local communities on projects that benefit their interests.

“There’s so much history of academics just extracting from communities, writing about them and then leaving. It’s not really been a reciprocal process,” she says.

“To be fair, our project still wasn’t reciprocal in the sense that we have our names on the article and the journalists don’t. In my eyes, I would like to see even more collective kinds of scholarship in the future.”

Looking ahead, Todd hopes this work starts deeper conversations about collaborative knowledge production and whose voices shape our collective memory. In a world facing climate disasters and political upheaval, she sees an urgent need for models that put local knowledge and lived experiences front and center.

“If we’re going to build more just societies,” she says, “we need to pay attention to … people telling stories about their own communities and find ways to amplify their voices.”

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91��ý sociologist Molly Todd finds that community newspapers were vital for people living in Brazil’s favelas during the COVID-19 pandemic.

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Top photo courtesy Maré de Notícias

Documentary shares secrets of the bees

Rachel Sauer — Fri, 03 Apr 2026 14:21:04 +0000

Documentary shares secrets of the bees Rachel Sauer Fri, 04/03/2026 - 08:21

Rachel Sauer

91��ý researcher Samuel Ramsey served as science advisor and a producer, alongside executive producer James Cameron, for Secrets of the Bees, premiering this week on National Geographic, Disney+ and Hulu

Would you like to hear a secret about bees?

Not many people know this, but bees in Southeast Asia have figured out that water buffalo dung isn’t the only pungent substance that will keep hornets away.

See, Vespa mandarinia—more sensationally known as the murder hornet—can wreak havoc on a bee colony. One or two dozen hornets can wipe out an entire colony, although bees have developed some pretty awesome defenses. One of these involves vibrating their flight muscles to create a convection oven effect that essentially cooks invading hornets.

Samuel Ramsey, a University of Colorado Boulder assistant professor of ecology and evolutionary biology, served as science advisor and producer, alongside executive producer James Cameron, on the documentary Secrets of the Bees. (Photo: Shin Arunrugstichai)

However, sometimes a hornet can escape bees’ defenses and flee the hive—but not before leaving a figure-eight pattern of pheromones outside the hive that acts as a beacon to future hornet invasions. Bees deduced that they’d need something even more pungent to spread at the hive entrance to mask the hornet pheromones, “and for a long time we thought they were just relying on water buffalo dung for that purpose,” explains Samuel Ramsey, a University of Colorado Boulder assistant professor of ecology and evolutionary biology.

But bees are smart. They figured out they could chew the leaves of an extremely pungent plant to spread at the hive entrance, “which was something we’d never seen before,” Ramsey says.

He and his colleagues discovered this behavior in pursuit of Secrets of the Bees, the fifth installment of the Emmy Award-winning “Secrets of…” series premiering this week on National Geographic, Disney+ and Hulu.

Ramsey, a National Geographic Explorer, served not only as science advisor and featured expert, but as a producer alongside executive producer James Cameron.

Yes, that James Cameron.

“It’s always a pleasure to say I produced a documentary with James Cameron,” Ramsey says with a laugh. “It’s opened up a lot of opportunities to talk with people about bees and together making sure that there’s unity in concept—so we’re not talking in terms of ‘right’ bees and ‘wrong’ bees, but we’re talking about what we can do to support all bees’ survival.”

Communicating science (and bees)

This all came about, in part, because “bees really, really need our help,” Ramsey says, a fact he quickly realized as a lifelong, self-described “bug nerd” observing how human-caused changes to the natural world are affecting bee populations.

During his undergraduate and graduate studies, Ramsey focused on diseases and parasites affecting bees, particularly the Varroa mite, and began raising bees so that he could study them. When he came to 91��ý, that move included installing a research and observation hive in his lab in the Jennie Smoly Caruthers Biotechnology Building.

Because his research interests also include symbiotic relationships, it’s perhaps no surprise that Ramsey the scientist is also Ramsey the science communicator: passionate about describing the beauty, wonder, fragility and resiliency of the natural world to broad and interested—although often non-scientific—audiences. He has been at the vanguard of using social media to tell the dynamic stories of science.

Thanks in part to this outreach, documentarians and filmmakers began requesting his expertise and consultation. He worked on the documentary My Garden of a Thousand Bees and has discussed insects on NPR, CBS and many other outlets, in addition to becoming a National Geographic Explorer. Still, he says, it’s a little surreal to get that call proposing a collaboration with the director of Titanic and Avatar.

“(Cameron) has 300 hives at his farm in New Zealand, so this really has been a labor of love for him,” Ramsey says.

Making a difference for bees

The framework of Secrets of the Bees is to show a hive of honeybees preparing for winter, but that simple concept took Ramsey and his collaborators around the world, exploring bee colonies as the dynamic cities they are and bees not as mindless automatons, but as intelligent, adaptive creatures that form complex societies.

The filmmakers used groundbreaking technologies, including cameras similar to those used in endoscopes, to peer inside hives for never-before-seen views of bees living, working and playing together. Yes, bees play, Ramsey says, and it’s a wonderful thing to see.

The cutting-edge filmmaking technology allows viewers to see close-up, time-lapse scenes of larva growing into adult bees, as well as the funerary process of pushing dead bees from the hive. “The advent of universal childcare is what allowed this to be one of the most successful species on the planet,” Ramsey says, “which you really see up-close in the film.”

He adds that it was important to him that the documentary not sugarcoat the peril in which Earth’s more than 20,000 bee species currently exist, including calamitous population declines associated with climate change, monoculture crops, parasites, chemical use and habitat loss, among other causes.

“But the film also emphasizes hope, because there are things every one of us can do to support bees,” Ramsey says. “Something as simple as planting a window box with flowers can make a big difference to a lot of bees.”

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91��ý researcher Samuel Ramsey served as science advisor and a producer, alongside executive producer James Cameron, for Secrets of the Bees, premiering this week on National Geographic, Disney+ and Hulu.

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91��ý scholar examines Islam’s most controversial new movement

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 01 Apr 2026 14:41:17 +0000

91��ý scholar examines Islam’s most controversial new movement Rachel Sauer Wed, 04/01/2026 - 08:41

Cody DeBos

Religious studies graduate student Shafiu Alidu went in search of West Africa’s boldest believers in the Yan Hakika Sufi sect

Shafiu Alidu grew up in a unique mixing pot of Islam, Christianity and Sufism in Accra, Ghana. Now a master’s student in the Department of Religious Studies at the University of Colorado Boulder, he is shedding light on a bold, contested movement that has rattled northern Nigeria’s Muslim communities.

His research invites one to imagine standing in a crowded public celebration in Nigeria as someone nearby leans in and declares openly, and without apology, “Everything and everyone is God.”

For many onlookers, both traditionally devout Muslims and Sufi practitioners, the words might be considered heresy.

Shafiu Alidu, a 91��ý graduate student in religious studies, researches Yan Hakika, a Sufi movement that has only emerged in the last decade and a half in Nigeria.

This is the world of the Yan Hakika, a Sufi movement that has only emerged in the last decade and a half. Compared to Islam, a religion with more than a millennium of traditions and rules to follow, the Yan Hakika could hardly be more different. The evocative tension between spiritual daring and doctrinal boundaries is part of what drew Alidu to study the group.

“The Yan Hakika caught my attention because they are very bold, and quite controversial—even within Sufism,” he says. “It felt like studying something alive and unfolding right now, instead of just ancient history.”

A long road to Boulder

Alidu’s path to 91��ý is itself a remarkable story. After completing his undergraduate degree in religious studies, he was awarded a full scholarship to pursue not one but two master’s degrees in Turkey.

It was there that his scholarly voice began to take shape.

“Turkey gave me excellent resources and real intellectual freedom, and it was there that I began publishing academic articles,” Alidu says.

He adds, “That experience deepened my fascination with how spiritual paths blend with local African cultures and inspired me to continue my studies abroad.”

His journey would then bring him to Boulder in 2024 for his third master’s degree, where he now works under the supervision of Aun Hasan Ali, associate professor and associate chair of undergraduate studies.

Alidu recently published a paper on the Yan Hakika in the Journal for the Institute of Sufi Studies.

Boulder, he says, has been the right place to do it.

“Boulder has given me a wonderful new environment to explore these topics even further while staying closely connected to my West African roots,” he says.

Turning up the volume

To understand what makes the Yan Hakika so controversial, one must understand what Sufism is.

Alidu describes it as “the mystical, heart-centered side of Islam,” adding, “Sufis focus on getting close to God through love, meditation, chanting and spiritual training rather than just following rules.”

At the core of Sufi thought is a concept known in Arabic as “Wahdat al-Wujud,” or the “oneness of being,” which holds that there is ultimately only one true reality, and that reality is God.

“The (Yan Hakika) movement attracts many people who feel that traditional religious practice has become too dry or rule-focused. They are drawn to the Yan Hakika’s promise of a more direct, ecstatic and personal experience of God,” says 91��ý scholar Shafiu Alidu. (Photo: Fatima Yusuf/Pexels)

Alidu offers an elegant analogy.

“Everything else—the universe, the stars, the trees and even you and me—is like a wave on the ocean. The wave looks separate for a moment, but it is made of the same water as the whole ocean and will eventually return to it,” he explains.

Most Sufis hold this idea close, expressing it in private meditation and guarded spiritual language. The Yan Hakika say it out loud.

“It’s like they turned the volume way up on one of the deepest and most subtle ideas in Sufism,” Alidu says.

Heresy or awakening?

Being so forthcoming with their beliefs comes with consequences for the Yan Hakika.

“Both mainstream Sufi groups—especially within the Tijaniyya Sufi Order—and Salafi (strict literalist) Muslims have strongly criticized them, sometimes labeling their beliefs as heretical and even questioning whether they are true Muslims,” Alidu says.

Spilling into real-world actions, that backlash has led to heated public denunciations by prominent religious figures, social boycotts, ostracism and even arrests at social gatherings. And yet the movement keeps growing.

As Alidu explains, for many followers, the Yan Hakika movement offers something traditional practice does not.

“The movement attracts many people who feel that traditional religious practice has become too dry or rule-focused. They are drawn to the Yan Hakika’s promise of a more direct, ecstatic and personal experience of God,” he says.

“In this way, the movement both divides communities and offers some followers a powerful spiritual awakening,” Alidu adds.

This contradiction—threatening and beautiful in equal measure—makes the Yan Hakika impossible to look away from.

Catching smoke with your hands

Studying the Yan Hakika, however, is another matter. Alidu found early on that conventional academic methods go only so far in uncovering the depths of a religious movement steeped in the mystical.

“I was surprised by how much everyday conversation and oral stories—not just books—matter in understanding this group,” he says.

While preparing his latest paper, a turning point came when Alidu immersed himself in accounts of the Yan Hakika’s public gatherings.

“Everything else—the universe, the stars, the trees and even you and me—is like a wave on the ocean. The wave looks separate for a moment, but it is made of the same water as the whole ocean and will eventually return to it.”

“It helped me realize this isn’t just abstract philosophy, but a living, emotional, sometimes chaotic spiritual experience that deeply affects real communities,” he says.

The challenge, he admits, is holding two truths simultaneously. He’s learned to juggle both the scholar’s need for analysis and the community’s need to be understood on its own terms.

“Religious studies gives good tools, but studying something this fluid sometimes feels like trying to catch smoke with your hands,” Alidu says.

Still listening

As for what Alidu hopes to come from his research, the focus is all about people.

“I’m not trying to judge them. I’m trying to understand why their path makes sense to them. I hope they would feel I listened carefully and described their beliefs accurately and respectfully, even when I point out the controversies,” he says.

For readers outside the Yan Hakika, his hopes are broader.

“There is no single way to be Muslim; spiritual paths within the tradition vary widely across cultures and times. Second, even beliefs and practices that appear radical or shocking to outsiders can stem from a deep, sincere longing to experience God more directly and intimately,” he says.

Alidu believes the Yan Hakika movement is a reminder that even one of the world’s largest religions contains intricacies that rarely reach our collective consciousness.

“Understanding groups like them can help us become more open-minded about the rich variety of human spiritual experience in our complex world,” he adds.

Alidu plans to develop his research into a PhD dissertation and, eventually, to teach and write books that make African spiritual traditions and their intersection with Islam more accessible to a wider audience.

In the meantime, he believes that, in a world inclined to flatten Islam into a single story, understanding the intricacies of why people believe what they do is never wasted work.

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Religious studies graduate student Shafiu Alidu went in search of West Africa’s boldest believers in the Yan Hakika Sufi sect.

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Does cannabis cause anxiety? It depends

Rachel Sauer — Fri, 27 Mar 2026 14:54:20 +0000

Does cannabis cause anxiety? It depends Rachel Sauer Fri, 03/27/2026 - 08:54

Blake Puscher

Research suggests that cannabis may cause anxiety when it is strong enough or taken in large enough quantity to produce an immediate effect

Cannabis is an increasingly common drug, with more than 64 million people reporting use in 2024 in the United States alone, according to Statista—more than double the amount in 2010. Despite this, its effects are not well understood. For example, some people use cannabis for relief from anxiety, but there is also evidence that it can cause or worsen anxiety depending on the individual, how much is taken and other factors.

Determining what effect cannabis has on anxiety requires a better understanding of how it affects the endocannabinoid system. To this end, researchers from CUChange (Center for Health and Neuroscience, Genes and Environment), including Renée Martin-Willett, Carillon Skrzynski, Ethan Taylor and Cinnamon Bidwell, with assistance from Jost Klawitter and Cristina Sempio of the University of Colorado Anschutz, assessed the biochemical changes that occurred when people with anxiety took different cannabis products.

Endocannabinoids

The endocannabinoid system is a biological system that extends throughout the whole body. “It’s not just in our brains,” Martin-Willett says; “it’s also in the peripheral nervous system, which is just a fancy way of saying it’s all over the body.”

Renée Martin-Willett (left) and Carillon Skrzynski (right), along with their CUChange research colleagues, assessed the biochemical changes that occurred when people with anxiety took different cannabis products.

The system uses two receptors: CB1 and CB2. In biology, receptors are chemical structures that contribute to a biological effect when they bind with compatible chemical messengers. Whether a receptor and messenger will be able to bind depends on their structure, similar to a lock and key, except that the structure is chemical. When a messenger binds to a receptor and the receptor uses the signal (by relaying or amplifying it, for example), the messenger is considered an agonist—as opposed to an antagonist, which is like a key that fits in a lock but, instead of opening that lock, prevents the correct key from being inserted.

Unlike keys, which either work or do not, chemical messengers can have effects of different strength. For example, THC (delta 9-tetrahydrocannabinol), the main psychoactive component of cannabis, is only a partial agonist of CB1. According to Martin-Willett, CB1 is mostly concentrated in the brain, whereas CB2 is mostly in the gut. The other main component of cannabis is CBD (cannabidiol), which modulates CB1 and CB2, making the effects they produce when activated by agonists weaker without preventing agonists from binding to the receptors.

These chemicals act on the endocannabinoid system because they have chemical structures like endocannabinoids, which are neurotransmitters that are produced by the human body. The two most-studied endocannabinoids are AEA (N-arachidonoyl ethanolamide) and 2-AG (2-arachidonoylglycerol), and they are the focus of this study for that reason.

“2-AG has a really high concentration, and it’s mostly in the brain,” Martin-Willett explains. “It binds with CB1. Then AEA, which has much lower concentrations, is more in the periphery. It’s implicated in implantation and the hormonal cycle for women and is increasingly being linked to anxiety and other kinds of mood disorders.” AEA is associated with positive feelings, and the receptors it binds with, CB1 and CB2, are thought to play a role in whether people view their environment in a positive or negative way. Therefore, AEA may ameliorate feelings of anxiety.

Although some simple facts about the endocannabinoid system are understood, many details remain unexplained. In particular, there is a question as to the effect of cannabis on the endocannabinoid system. This includes how THC and CBD may affect the concentration of AEA and 2-AG in the body, which has implications for what effect cannabis has on anxiety and other aspects of people’s mental state. “Sometimes I tell people the endocannabinoid system is like the Mariana Trench of biomedicine,” Martin-Willett says, “because it was only really discovered in the mid-‘90s. How did we not know about this entire, full-body system until the ‘90s?”

The study

Because this study was intended to determine the effect of cannabis use on anxiety, the participants all had scores on the GAD-7 (generalized anxiety disorder) screener that indicated at least mild anxiety. The participants were split up into four groups: one-fourth of the participants were in the control group (meaning they did not use any cannabis), one-fourth used THC-dominant products, one-fourth used CBD-dominant products and one-fourth used products that combined THC and CBD in a 1:1 ratio.

Some people use cannabis for relief from anxiety, but there is also evidence that it can cause or worsen anxiety depending on the individual, how much is taken and other factors. (Photo: Unsplash)

The study found that the people in the THC-dominant and 1:1 groups had higher AEA levels than those in the control group when cannabis was taken during an acute administration session (meaning in a single dose that is strong enough to produce an immediate effect as opposed to administration over the course of weeks). These results are consistent with the hypothesis that the effects of THC on AEA are caused by competitive binding between the two chemicals at CB1.

“THC might affect AEA in a couple of different ways,” Martin-Willett explains. “THC will bind to CB1 in a ‘normal’ way at the synapse, but it will also permeate the lipid bilayer of the cell itself. The results from our paper support that first idea that THC is competitively binding with AEA at CB1. It is kind of fighting AEA to bind and winning more often than AEA is.”

The basic idea is that whenever THC binds to a receptor, it takes away an opportunity for AEA to bind, causing fewer receptors to be activated by AEA. Even though THC and AEA are both partial agonists of CB1, it is possible that the effects they create upon binding are different. “One idea,” Martin-Willett continues, “is if more AEA makes you less anxious, and in the moment, THC binds competitively with CB1 and keeps AEA from interacting, maybe that is contributing to the paranoia or anxiety after acute use of THC. That is speculative, though. We do not have good human studies on that yet.”

2-AG levels did not change when administered acutely. This could be because 2-AG has higher concentrations in the human body than AEA, making the consequences of introducing THC less significant in the short term. However, in the THC-dominant group, it increased from baseline after two weeks before decreasing to reach a near-baseline level by week four. While AEA is thought to be associated with positive feelings, the association between 2-AG is mostly unknown.

Catching up with the market

Since the Controlled Substances Act of 1971, cannabis has been classified as a Schedule I drug in the United States, which means that it faces special restrictions on the federal level. That may change soon because of the Department of Health and Human Services’ 2023 recommendation that cannabis be reclassified as a Schedule III drug and because of President Trump’s 2025 executive order on the subject. Despite this, and even in states where cannabis has been legalized, the current classification puts limits on studies like this one.

For example, second author Carillon Skrzynski says, “In a lot of our studies, we are not allowed to tell people how much to use, or what to use in some circumstances. That really puts a damper on any kind of causal conclusion.” Ordinarily, scientists keep all variables that could affect the phenomenon they want to understand constant except for one, called the independent variable, which they vary in a controlled manner. This makes the relationship between the independent variable and the phenomenon clear. If multiple variables change at the same time, it becomes almost impossible to say how much each variable contributes to the phenomenon, or even if they would have an effect individually.

“I think there are two really exciting areas that the field needs to move towards,” Martin-Willett adds. “Number one, we need to account for age. We know that the endocannabinoid system changes a lot when we get older. People talk about reduced tone, which just means you have fewer receptors, but we do not really know what that means—if it has a greater effect or a lower effect. And I think the other piece of it is sex assigned at birth. Like I mentioned, more and more the endocannabinoid system is being viewed like the endocrine system, or like the hormonal system, and these things are intertwined, especially AEA and the reproductive system.”

Martin-Willett and Skrzynski both plan to look into these areas. Additionally, their center, CUChange, has multiple studies running and is actively looking for research participants. That is important not only because the different effects of cannabis are unknown, but because it is already being used on a large scale. “A lot of this is really unregulated right now,” Martin-Willett says, “and I think the market is way ahead of the science. People are already using cannabinoids for anxiety, for sleep, for pain, for other kinds of mood problems, and so they can make their voices heard to the government, that this is someplace they want research money to go.”

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Research suggests that cannabis may cause anxiety when it is strong enough or taken in large enough quantity to produce an immediate effect.

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Young musicians tend to keep playing later in life

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 25 Mar 2026 18:38:58 +0000

Young musicians tend to keep playing later in life Rachel Sauer Wed, 03/25/2026 - 12:38

Clint Talbott

But their path is not linear, with many starting, stopping and resuming in adulthood; genetics and home environment play differing roles, 91��ý research finds

Those who played a guitar, piano or ukulele as kids are more likely than average to play as an adult—though perhaps not as likely as you might expect.

That’s one finding of a new study led by University of Colorado Boulder researcher Dan Gustavson, which sheds light on how children’s early interactions with music shape—but don’t determine—their musical lives decades later.

The findings, recently published in the journal Developmental Science, draw on nearly 40 years of data from surveys of 1,900 people in The Colorado Adoption/Twin Study of Lifespan Behavioral Development and Cognitive Aging (CATSLife).

91��ý researcher Dan Gustavson led a recently published study that sheds light on how children’s early interactions with music shape—but don’t determine—their musical lives decades later.

Gustavson and his colleagues analyzed measures of “music engagement”—being interested in and skilled at musical instruments—of participants at ages 7, 10, 12 and 16, then compared them with the same individuals’ music-playing habits in their 30s. The result: Early music engagement predicts adult instrument playing, but far less strongly than expected.

Many participants started and stopped music throughout adolescence, and some took up music later in life.

“We found more change than stability,” says Gustavson, assistant research professor at 91��ý’s Institute of Behavioral Genetics. “Kids don’t follow a single linear path. A lot of them start, stop and restart music as they grow.”

The study also highlights shifting genetic and environmental influences. In childhood, shared environmental factors—such as family resources, school access and neighborhood programs—played a major role in determining who “engaged” with music. By adolescence, however, genetic influences grew stronger, probably reflecting teens’ increasing autonomy in the activities they pursue.

“Adolescence is a time where you start to get a lot more freedom over your own behavior,” Gustavson says. “Your interests become less influenced by your parents and more by what you’re exploring. People who are just more naturally tuned to figuring out musical instruments are going to find themselves in those environments more.”

Gender differences emerged as well. Girls were somewhat more likely to engage with music in childhood, though boys showed slightly higher heritability for music engagement at younger ages. These differences disappeared by adolescence.

“Girls were more likely to play music than boys . . . but in boys, there was slightly higher heritability in childhood for music engagement. That actually evened out by adolescence,” Gustavson says.

Playing and listening

Perhaps surprisingly, listening to music in adulthood was largely unrelated to playing music in childhood. Playing and listening appear to be distinct traits. “Passive listening is its own thing,” Gustavson notes. “It doesn’t track neatly with who played instruments as kids.”

“Music may be uniquely positioned to support language development, cognitive growth and even resilience against risky behaviors. But kids can’t benefit from it if they don’t have access,” says 91��ý researcher Dan Gustavson. (Photo: Dzmitry Shepeleu/Unsplash)

Gustavson is now exploring whether music engagement at key developmental windows—especially around age 12—may help protect teens from later substance use. Preliminary evidence suggests early adolescent music engagement is linked to lower rates of alcohol use and fewer substances tried in late adolescence, five to 10 years later.

He notes that scientists take a developmental perspective on how behaviors can affect health. “You can’t just look at one time point when you want to understand how behaviors relate to important health outcomes. You have to think about the developmental stage. . . . There may be specific windows where things matter a lot more.

“Adolescence is when people start experimenting, and putting yourself in a music environment might be most protective during this time,” he says. Ultimately, Gustavson hopes the research might strengthen arguments for restoring music programs in schools.

“Music may be uniquely positioned to support language development, cognitive growth and even resilience against risky behaviors,” he says. “But kids can’t benefit from it if they don’t have access.”

CATSLife twin studies and other longitudinal twin research help scientists discern the influences of genetics vs. environmental factors by comparing identical twins (who have 100% shared genes) and fraternal twins (with 50% shared genes).

As a student, Gustavson became interested in the power of such studies: “I had friends growing up who were twins, and we always talked about what makes twins similar or different. Taking courses here, I found it really exciting to unpack which aspects of things are explained by genetics and which by the environment.”

Music itself strikes a chord with Gustavson, who plays guitar and drums and was a professional musician for a couple of years before he earned his PhD. “I’ve been really grateful that I’ve been able to integrate this into my research program now.

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But their path is not linear, with many starting, stopping and resuming in adulthood; genetics and home environment play differing roles, 91��ý research finds.

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TikTok doesn’t change minds—it changes moods

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 23 Mar 2026 23:25:55 +0000

TikTok doesn’t change minds—it changes moods Rachel Sauer Mon, 03/23/2026 - 17:25

Bradley Worrell

New research from 91��ý political scientist Michelangelo Landgrave finds that watching political influencers on TikTok does not seem to influence young voters on the issues—but does leave them feeling sadder, angrier and more anxious

If you are over the age of 30, put aside those preconceived ideas that TikTok is just a website where teens and young adults watch 10-second videos of cute cats.

According to the Pew Research Center, about one in five U.S. adults now regularly gets their news from TikTok—and usage is highest among people under age 30. That shift prompted University of Colorado Boulder political scientist Michelangelo Landgrave to ask a simple but important question: What does consuming political content on TikTok actually do to young voters?

In a new study published in Political Studies Review, Landgrave and his co-authors found that while TikTok videos from political influencers don’t appear to change young voters’ positions on the issues, they do have an impact—making those viewers feel more negative emotional states, such as anxiety, anger and sadness.

91��ý political scientist Michelangelo Landgrave and his research colleagues found that while TikTok political influencers may not change minds, they do change moods.

Landgrave recently discussed the findings of his research paper with Colorado Arts and Sciences Magazine. His comments have been edited lightly for clarity and condensed.

Question: How does this latest study fit into your broader area of research?

Landgrave: I study American politics broadly, including institutions and political behavior. This paper is primarily a behavior study. It was inspired by earlier work examining how exposure to traditional news media—like Fox News and CNN—shapes political beliefs.

We started thinking that traditional media isn’t where many young people get their news anymore. Instead, they’re getting it from TikTok or similar short‑form video platforms like YouTube. It’s arguably the only type of media where the number of people getting news is actually increasing. Traditional media still has an audience, but it’s relatively stagnant and it skews older.

That led us to ask: Does this change in media format affect how people process political information?

Question: At the outset, were you surprised to learn how many younger Americans are getting their news from TikTok?

Landgrave: Somewhat. One of our co‑authors, Robert Anstett, was a student at the time, and we brought him onto the project explicitly because neither I nor the other senior co‑author, Abdelaziz Alsharawy (assistant professor at UT Health Houston School of Public Health), really used TikTok. We had a sense this was happening, but we weren’t firsthand users of TikTok.

We had read a Pew Research Center report noting that an increasing number of people get their news from TikTok, and both of us thought, ‘Isn’t that just a 5‑second clip? What can you really get from that?’

That skepticism helped motivate the study.

Question: When and where was this study conducted?

Landgrave: This study was conducted in 2023 at the University of Missouri while I was finishing my work there. Missouri turned out to be ideal because, while it’s a red state at the presidential level, the local student population was about evenly split—roughly 50% Democrat and 50% Republican. The experiment involved political science students who agreed to participate in the experiment.

Question: How did the experiment work?

Landgrave: At the start of the weeklong study, participants were randomly assigned—regardless of their political views—to one of three groups. One group watched Democratic‑leaning political videos, another watched Republican‑leaning videos, and the control group watched nonpolitical content—mostly animal videos.

We didn’t produce the videos ourselves. These were real TikTok videos that had been popular in the week leading up to the study.

"Because the videos are so short, influencers rely heavily on emotion rather than argument. Both Democratic and Republican videos leaned strongly on negative emotions—sadness, fear and anxiety," says 91��ý scholar Michelangelo Landgrave.

Question: With political influencer content, did you notice any notable differences in who was producing the content by age, gender or race? What about the frequency of posts?

Landgrave: That surprised us. We expected differences but we didn’t find much. Age, gender and racial diversity were fairly balanced across political sides.

We did observe that Democratic‑leaning influencers produce more videos and tend to have more followers. Both are still dwarfed by nonpolitical content like animal videos, but there is a clear production imbalance. It’s unclear whether that’s due to the algorithm or differences in content creation. We can’t say for sure.

Question: Were there differences in the way Democratic and Republican influencers made their cases to TikTok viewers?

Landgrave: That was one of our most interesting findings. Because the videos are so short, influencers rely heavily on emotion rather than argument. Both Democratic and Republican videos leaned strongly on negative emotions—sadness, fear and anxiety.

Republican‑leaning videos tended to show more negative emotions like contempt and fear. That said, both sides relied heavily on negative emotions. Democratic-leaning videos were more likely to utilize anger. By contrast, traditional news often includes lighter or feel‑good stories, while animal videos found on TitkTok are, of course, just animals being animals.

Question: If the political videos on TikTok are less than a minute, it doesn’t seem like that’s enough time to properly address an issue in a substantive way?

Landgrave: Exactly. Even short television news segments usually provide some nuance and context. There’s a reason it takes 10, 20 or even 60 minutes to follow the news properly. With 5‑ or 10‑second clips, there’s very little room for nuance—you’re really only getting snippets.

Question: After the weeklong experiment, research subjects who watched these influencer videos showed no evidence of changing their opinions on political topics?

Landgrave: That’s correct. We didn’t find evidence that political attitudes changed—even after a full week of exposure. This is important because it wasn’t just one video; the algorithm adapts. Once someone starts watching a type of content, TikTok shows them more of it. So, effectively, we were altering their algorithm for a week—and still didn’t see attitude change.

It’s possible longer exposure—months or years—could matter, but at least over a week, we didn’t see a direct effect on political attitudes.

Question: But you did see emotional effects even at just one week?

Landgrave: Yes. While political attitudes didn’t change, emotional states did. After a week of political TikTok exposure—regardless of whether it was Democratic or Republican—participants reported feeling more sadness, anxiety and anger.

I went into this study fairly ambivalent, assuming concerns were probably overstated. But after seeing the results, I’m genuinely worried about the emotional effects on young people.

91��ý scholar Michelangelo Landgrave and his research colleagues found that after a week of political TikTok exposure—regardless of whether it was Democratic or Republican—participants reported feeling more sadness, anxiety and anger. (Photo: Kelly Sikkema/Unsplash)

Question: Do you believe there are possible policy implications here?

Landgrave: Speaking only as a private citizen, and not representing 91��ý’s position, I think there’s reason for concern—particularly regarding children and teenagers. While we didn’t find direct political effects, we did find emotional harm.

That suggests policymakers should consider stronger safeguards, whether that’s time limits, improved parental controls or other measures.

Question: Why do you think emotions changed but political attitudes didn’t?

Landgrave: That surprised me, too. We focused on young adults because their political views are still forming. If there were going to be an effect, we expected to see it there.

One possibility is that emotional effects accumulate faster than ideological change. I also wonder whether younger audiences—middle school or even elementary‑age children—might be more susceptible, though that research would require different expertise.

Question: Were your survey participants already using TikTok?

Landgrave: Almost all of them. Only about five participants had never used TikTok. Most already had accounts and varied only in how much they used it. Our intervention didn’t replace their normal viewing—it nudged the algorithm by requiring them to watch specific videos daily.

Question: How confident are you that TikTok itself caused the negative emotional effects, rather than outside life stress?

Landgrave: Because it was an experimental study with random assignment, we’re confident we controlled for most external factors. That said, I’d love to explore conditional effects—whether the impact is stronger for heavy users, rural populations or people with fewer entertainment alternatives.

Question: Do you believe this is a subject area worthy of more exploration, possibly on what longer-term exposure to TikTok might mean for mental health outlook? And maybe whether political influencers have a greater influence over a longer-term period?

Landgrave: Long‑term experimental studies would be very difficult, but observational work is possible. As a researcher—and as a teacher—I’m increasingly concerned about the mental health effects (of social media) on younger people. I see students who seem almost addicted to these platforms, and I worry about my nieces and nephews too.

I want to be clear: This is speculative, but I can imagine an indirect effect over time. Years of exposure to emotionally negative content could potentially radicalize people or increase tolerance for extreme behavior. Our study can’t prove that, but it raises important questions.

Question: If you do more research on this particular subject, what might that look like?

Landgrave: We want to use eye‑tracking technology—glasses that track where people are actually looking. That would help us understand whether viewers are focused on the speaker, the text or even the video at all. Future studies might also involve controlled lab settings to see whether focused attention changes outcomes.

Question: Have you received feedback from other researchers on your published work regarding TikTok influencers?

Landgrave: Yes. Colleagues have reached out, including researchers studying similar effects internationally. This may not be a uniquely American issue—it could be global.

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