The Brief

Officially, Earth boasts roughly 2 million species. Unofficially, scientists suspect there could be millions — perhaps over 100 million — more.

Each year, scientists add thousands of new species to the scientific record in an attempt to get a better count. Some discoveries stem from intrepid adventures deep into the jungle, while others come from reanalyzing old specimens stored in dusty museum collections.

Each new plant, fish, beetle or bird is a unique and irreplaceable answer to the question of how to make a living on Earth, and scientists are racing to describe them. Climate change and the ongoing biodiversity crisis add extra urgency to these efforts, since many of these new species risk going extinct just as soon as they're discovered.

Here are five species that struck NPR as especially wonderful, both because of the biology of the species, as well as the stories behind their discovery.

Clouded tiger-cat

Biologist Tadeu de Oliveira remembers well the email that sparked his decade-and-a-half effort to propose a new species of tiger-cat.

"Knowing them so deeply as I do, I knew this was not just some sort of variation," he said. "I knew it would go deeper, way deeper."

De Oliveira, a tiger-cat expert at Maranhão State University in Brazil, has spent many hours looking at the two described tiger-cats that prowl South America. But the photos in that email, from camera traps in the Andes mountains, struck him as different. The house-cat-sized creature in these photos had more irregular spots, seemingly thicker fur, and just moved differently than the known species, he told NPR.

He teamed up with over 40 other scientists to formally describe the clouded tiger-cat (Leopardis pardinoides) as a new species. The investigation revealed the clouded tiger-cat as genetically and geographically distinct from the other two species, the northern tiger-cat and southern tiger-cat. While those species stick to the lowlands of savannahs and coastal forests, the clouded-tiger cat is only found in the mountains of Central and South America.

They also discovered some unusual physical differences.

"Females have only one pair of nipples, not two, as in the other tiger-cats," de Oliveira says. "That's totally different."

However, the researchers estimate that the current range of all three tiger-cats is likely about half of what it once was, putting them at risk of extinction, de Oliveira says.

Fluffy longhorn beetle

Fluffy longhorn beetle on a leaf.

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James Tweed

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Sometimes, new species are discovered entirely by chance.

Entomologist James Tweed, a Ph.D. student at the University of Queensland in Australia, was camping south of Brisbane when he was walking to brush his teeth one morning and a flash of white on the ground made him do a double take.

"Initially, I just thought it was a bird dropping. But the fact it was bright white, which is not something you'd normally see on a leaf in the forest understory, made me think I should look closer," he said. "I'm glad I did, because it turned out to be this spectacular beetle."

Tweed had never seen a longhorn beetle like this one before, with spindly white hairs sprouting from all over its body. He snapped some photos and sent them to local beetle experts, who confirmed they'd never seen such a bug either.

"For it to be as striking as this one and not to have been found previously was really surprising," Tweed says, especially since researchers are often out studying the area.

The beetle was so different that it turned out to be a whole new genus, which is a broader taxonomic classification than species. Tweed and his colleagues named it Excastra albopilosa—Excastra being Latin for "from the camp" and albopilosa for "white and hairy."

Its flashy appearance may have evolved to resemble a beetle infected with an insect-killing fungus, Tweed says, which could deter predators. "But it's guesswork at this point," he says.

Tweed's campground find is the only reported sighting and specimen to date, he says. "I'm waiting for that day when another observation pops up on our nature list and we can kind of piece together a bit more information about the species."

Superstar of an orchid

S. impraedicta is a newly described orchid in Madagascar.

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Marie Savignac

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Orchids are prized for their elaborate, ostentatious flowers, but a new species from Madagascar described this year is notable because of a really long tube. Technically called a nectar spur, the tube funnels sugary liquid to pollinators who can reach it, and this new species has one that's over a foot long.

Considering the tens of thousands of species of flowering plants, "this is the longest nectar spur of any, relative to flower size," says João Farminhão, a botanist at the University of Coimbra Botanic Garden in Portugal. "In absolute terms, it's the third longest ever."

It's topped by Darwin's Orchid, which is also endemic to Madagascar. Upon inspecting the 17-inch-long spur of that specimen in the 1860s, the famed biologist wrote to a friend, "Good Heavens what insect can suck it." Later, he predicted there must be a moth on the island with an equally long proboscis, a prediction of how species can co-evolve. Sure enough, two decades later scientists identified an African hawkmoth that pollinated the orchid.

S. impraedicta is only distantly related to Darwin's orchid, but it, too, relies on a similarly long-tongued hawkmoth to pollinate its ivory-white flowers. While the orchid was first collected in 2009, it was officially described just this year by Farminhão and his colleagues.

Despite its fresh debut, the plant is already endangered by mining projects in Madagascar, which clear the trees it lives on. To protect it from orchid hunters, Farminhão and his colleagues are withholding its exact location.

Malagasy frogs

Guibemantis ambakoana, Ambakoana means 'living within Pandanus' in Malagasy.

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Miguel Vences

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There are frogs that live their entire lives in the tiny pools of water that collect on the leaves of a pandan tree in Madagascar.

"When I was doing an independent research project in the rainforest, I noticed these frogs that looked really different from anything I was seeing in the guidebook," said Hugh Gabriel, who now works at the Bell Museum of Natural History at the University of Minnesota.

The frogs were hidden within the palm-like leaves of a pandan tree, and they struck Gabriel as somewhat smaller and differently colored than the species he'd been seeing in his research. He reached out to the author of his guidebook, who confirmed Gabriel's hunch, and they collaborated to describe three new species.

The frogs spend their entire lives in pandans, which resemble yucca or aloe plants, but can grow much taller. The water that pools at the base of the leaves supports veritable mini-ecosystems, and these frogs likely munch on the invertebrates that also call the pandans home. The frogs' calls sound like "rain dropping onto leaves," Gabriel says, but not much else is known about how they make a living.

"I was really under no impression that this was a discovery in the total sense of the word," says Gabriel. "The Malagasy people have been living there for a few thousand years and certainly knew these frogs existed." In acknowledgement of that, he and his colleagues named the new species Guibemantis ambakoana, G. vakoa and G. rianasoa after the Malagasy words for pandan and a nearby waterfall. These three species add to the more than 400 species of amphibians on the island.

Skeleton panda sea squirts

Skeleton panda sea squirts

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Naohiro Hasegawa

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Catch a quick glimpse of this photo and you might mistake the group of new sea squirt species for a gaggle of underwater trick-or-treaters dressed like panda bear skeletons.

Photos of the spooky sea squirts were circulating online among diving enthusiasts in Japan before Naohiro Hasegawa, a biologist at the University of Hokkaido, saw a tweet with the critters. He knew of no sea squirts with that striking coloration, and he and his colleagues set off to Kumejima, a tiny island west of Okinawa, to collect specimens. Sure enough, morphological and genetic analyses confirmed it was a new species, which they dubbed Clavelina ossipandae.

Sea squirts live their lives fixed to the ground, filtering out phytoplankton as they suck water through their mouths. The skeleton-like lines of this new sea squirt are actually blood vessels that run through the sea squirt's gills, the researchers say. It's unclear why the sea squirts have their black-and-white markings, but it's almost certainly not a tactic to score more Halloween candy.

Early every Saturday for the last three and a half years, William Campbell, 61, leaves his Silver Lake home to be at the Angels Flight station for the first ride at 6:45 a.m.

Campbell is one of a team of operators behind the proverbial wheel of the two near-identical funiculars — named Olivet and Sinai — that go up and down a 33% angle slope from Hill Street to Bunker Hill in downtown Los Angeles.

“You’re a part of living history,” said Campbell, who is dressed in an orange and black waistcoat and bow tie, and wears a bowler hat with a monarch butterfly on top. There’s a reason for that, he said mysteriously.

Angels Flight on Bunker Hill.

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James Bartlett

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LAist

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Today, I am the first rider. Soon after, I am joined by a family visiting from Texas.

“I was just looking at a local tourist place, and I just saw this small, cute railway,” said Michael Nguyen, who was alongside his mother and sister. “I was like, oh, this looks interesting. And I saw that you can actually go on it. I was like, OK, that’s pretty dope.”

Masterminded by lawyer, politician and engineer Col. James Ward Eddy, the Angels Flight “hillevator” opened on New Year’s Eve 1901 as a way for people to travel up and down Bunker Hill, which was then the place where the city’s wealthy population lived.

The journey took them down to the streets and stores below and from 1917, Grand Central Market, with the first passengers paying just a penny fare for what was billed as the “shortest railway in America,” traveling just 298 feet.

When he’s not working his weekday full-time day job investigating animal cruelty and abuse, Campbell spends his spare time looking through online newspaper archives for any information about Angels Flight.

Angels Flight Railway.

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James Bartlett

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LAist

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Angels Flight Railway.

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James Bartlett

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LAist

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Originally located by the 3rd Street Tunnel — at the end of the block from where it is now — the train has been through several changes, as has Bunker Hill itself.

“All the wealthy people moved to Beverly Hills, and Brentwood, and Bel Air, and beyond. And all their wonderful Victorian mansions were turned into boarding houses, and it attracted a lower income, more diverse population, which resulted in blight and crime — at least according to the city,” Campbell said of Bunker Hill's transformation.

City officials authorized Bunker Hill to be all but razed in the 1950s and '60s, and Angels Flight was put into what was promised to be temporary storage for a year or two, despite protests from singer Peggy Lee and others.

The year was 1969. And it took nearly three decades for its return. Angels Flight welcomed passengers again in 1996 to its current location after test runs were made with cases of beer and soft drinks weighing 9,000 pounds. The cable cars were rebuilt exactly as before, but with modern safety requirements, such as Sinai having wheelchair space.

A 2001 accident in which one person died and seven were injured saw another long closure until 2010, and there was a derailment in 2014, which saw another short shuttering. But Angels Flight has been running ever since 2017, save the odd mechanical problem.

William Campbell.

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James Bartlett

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LAist

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Angels Flight keepsakes made by William Campbell for riders to take.

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James Bartlett

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LAist

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Campbell describes himself as a cheerleader for Angels Flight, and you can easily see why. During his shift he pins up a 1904 photo of the city’s landscape taken from an 80-foot-high observation tower at the original location, so people can compare it to the skyscraper skyline of today.

“At one time you could see all the way to Catalina,” he noted.

There is also a display about near-forgotten Bunker Hill folk artist Marcel Cavalla, and Campbell gives away Angels Flight bookmarks, stickers and maps, all of which he researches, designs and prints out of his own pocket.

One of his projects, old advertisements from 1901 to the 1940s, is displayed in the panels above the seats, and was installed a couple of months ago.

Interior of Angels Flight, showcasing old advertisements from 1901 to the 1940s that Campbell installed.

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James Bartlett

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LAist

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One of the vintage ads for Catalina Carrier-Pigeon Service.

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James Bartlett

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LAist

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There's everything from old Market Basket supermarket ads, to Barbara Stanwyck shilling for Lux toilet soap, to a standard power mower from John Bean manufacturing, to one for the Catalina Carrier Pigeon Service, which operated from 1894 to 1902, taking messages from Avalon to Bunker Hill.

And the monarch butterfly on his hat? That’s related to his Angels Flight “holy grail,” the one question he can’t definitively answer: why were they painted orange and black?

With that, Campbell grabs his binoculars and sees there are passengers waiting for a ride up, so I get into Olivet and wave goodbye as I travel down to Hill Street.

A group called Neighbors Helping Neighbors has been clearing overgrown weeds for free on fire survivors' empty lots in Altadena.

They’ve finished 10 with many more to go. They’re keeping at it not just to keep things tidy, but to avert another disaster as the region enters fire season — and their efforts are spreading. More than 200 homeowners have signed up, after hearing about the group from its Facebook page and through word of mouth.

“I'm 5 feet 2 inches tall, but there were weeds 6 and 8 feet tall,” said Antoinette “Toni” Bailey-Raines, the ringleader. She is also a co-founder of Altadena Talks Foundation, a nonprofit started in the wake of the Eaton Fire.

Bailey-Raines lives in San Dimas but grew up in Altadena. Her parents and sister all lost their homes in the Eaton Fire.

“I went to my parents' lot one day,” she said. “I loaded up the back of my car with my lawnmower, my blower, my rake, because I wanted to make sure their lot was cleaned up.”

It took seven hours, but she figured all that overgrown vegetation can't be good for Altadena with the fire season just around the corner.

And just like that, the idea for Neighbors Helping Neighbors was born.

Preventing another disaster

Antoinette “Toni” Bailey-Raines, founder of Neighbors Helping Neighbors.

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Fiona Ng

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LAist

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Antoinette “Toni” Bailey-Raines at one of the cleared lots.

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Fiona Ng

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LAist

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The very first lot, just south in Pasadena, was cleared in mid-April. Bailey-Raines said the property was getting notices from the city to clear the lot or face escalating fines. Pasadena conducts brush clearance inspections every spring and summer.

Toni said the family had moved to Mississippi after the Eaton Fire.

“You lost everything, and then somebody's gonna tell you they're gonna give you a fine because you have weeds on your lot and you're not even here to see that?” Bailey-Raines said.

That day, she rounded up a group of nine people, including her son and his friend. A neighbor across the street was suspicious at first, but eventually told her, "You have me for about an hour." He stayed for two.

The job took less than four hours.

A growing movement

On May 13, dozens of volunteers showed up in Altadena to clear seven lots in one morning.

One of them — a 14,000-square-foot lot — belongs to Sarkis Aleksanian and his family. He had reached out to Bailey-Raines in late April, after learning about the group from a neighborhood WhatsApp chat.

“I was looking into cleaning up the lot and really daunted by the prospect,” he said. “I was worried that the lawn would dry up and be a problem.”

Aleksanian and his wife were on hand to help out. It’s the one thing that Bailey-Raines requires — for the homeowners to be there.

“I've asked them that if they're able-bodied to be here and help,” she said. “You're here. You're encouraging people, and you're helping on your lot. [Sarkis] was doing everything from weed-eater, to chainsaw, to whatever, and that's what it's about.”

This 14,000-square-foot lot in Altadena was cleaned up in less than two hours on a recently Saturday.

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Fiona Ng

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LAist

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“It was just remarkable, I tell you,” Aleksanian said. He said he recognized some of the volunteers that morning — folks he sees in the community.

And he did encounter someone he knew — a high school acquaintance from years back. “It's neighbors helping neighbors, just like she called it, you know?” Aleksanian said.

His lot was finished in 90 minutes.

More is needed

With a growing waitlist, what is needed are people and equipment — from gloves and trash bags to the hardware.

“I have six brush cutters and two chainsaws and a couple trimmers, but I need, like, triple that at least,” she said.

Same goes for rechargeable batteries that power these tools — which Bailey-Raines juices up with generators they bring on-site.

A number of organizations — including Neighborhood Survants, Altagether, Project Passion, My Tribe Rise, Dena Heals — have granted money and donated equipment and manpower. Bailey-Raines has also put in her own money.

“My dream is one Saturday morning to have 500 people and that we clear a whole street, a whole block — so that this list of 200 can go down, and as others hear about it, they get on it, and we as a community do this as neighbors to help one another,” she said.

After fires and floods, Southern California’s only remaining native freshwater turtle recently got a boost.

Just last month, 15 southwestern pond turtle hatchlings were released into the San Gabriel River — a major milestone in an effort to restore the vulnerable turtle population.

But this wasn’t a typical raise-and-release scenario.

These turtles’ parents went on a harrowing journey before they were born.

A daring rescue

In early September 2020, amid a heat wave and dry weather, a tree branch hit a Southern California Edison power line, igniting the Bobcat Fire.

The fire eventually scorched more than 180 square miles — mostly forest in the San Gabriel Mountains. For comparison, the 2025 Eaton Fire burned about 22 square miles.

Lights from a fire truck illuminate firefighters working the Bobcat Fire in September 2021.

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Frederic J. Brown

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Getty Images

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As the Bobcat Fire spread, biologists grew worried. The fire was burning in the West Fork of the San Gabriel River, a biodiversity hotspot and refuge for bears and mountain lions, the federally protected Santa Ana sucker fish and the mountain yellow-legged frog.

It’s also home to the largest remaining — and possibly only — population of southwestern pond turtles in the entire watershed. Their exact numbers aren’t known, but it’s likely less than 200.

“Because this hadn’t burned in decades and decades and decades, there was big concern about debris flows,” said Robert Fisher, a biologist with the U.S. Geological Survey.

Scientists hoped the turtles would be able to ride out the fire itself by staying in the water, but any rain after would likely lead to a deluge of mud, trees and other burned materials. That would be akin to an avalanche for the turtles in the river, and it had the potential to wipe out the entire population.

Once the flames died down, Fisher and a team of biologists, in partnership with the California Department of Fish and Wildlife and U.S. Forest Service, trekked to the home of the pond turtles.

“It was a moonscape,” Fisher said.

They waded through ashy, murky waters, eventually collecting 11 adult turtles.

A temporary home and 15 surprises

The turtles were taken to the San Diego Zoo, where the plan was to hold them until their mountain habitat recovered enough for them to return.

By 2024, the San Gabriel Mountains were looking far better — biologists even found some pond turtles that survived major debris flows.

But right before the turtles were set to go back home, scientists got a surprise.

“Just before we were getting to release, we found a baby turtle, which is amazing,” said Brandon Scott, wildlife care manager of herpetology and ichthyology at San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance. “You don't know how long it's going to take to restart that process of them actually being able to breed, with the stress and it's a new habitat.”

A juvenile southwestern pond turtle is weighed before being released to the wild.

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Ken Bohn

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Courtesy San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance

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The turtles and the new baby were all returned to their home in the San Gabriels. But then came another surprise. And another.

“We just continually, every day, started finding a baby in that habitat,” said Scott.

Female southwestern pond turtles lay and bury their eggs in late spring or early summer. Juveniles emerge months later, only about the size of a quarter.

Fifteen babies later, conservation staff were shocked and pleased.

Their goal for the 11 rescued turtles was to make sure they could thrive before being released back into their habitat. “But in the process,” Scott said, “yes, we made it comfortable enough for them to breed.”

A hopeful release

The new generation of southwestern pond turtles was released in April near the spot their parents were rescued from in the San Gabriel River.

Such rescues of vulnerable wildlife are becoming increasingly common in the face of more catastrophic fires. All but two of the biggest fires in recorded history have been in the last 20 years.

Fisher said a similar rescue of pond turtles had occurred only once before, after the 2009 Station Fire in the San Gabriels. That time, the turtles were quickly returned to their habitat.

A staff member of the San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance releases a juvenile southwestern pond turtle into the San Gabriel River.

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Ken Bohn

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Courtesy San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance

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That rescue, in part, inspired the U.S. Geological Survey to work with the San Diego Zoo to build a conservation habitat for southwestern pond turtles nearly two decades ago. And the Bobcat Fire became the first time it was used for wild rescues, Fisher said.

Ironically, the Bobcat Fire could eventually help the local population, Fisher said.

“We’ve known about [the population] for decades, but it’s not really thriving,” he said. “So this helped give it a head start. And because the fire was so intense, it opened up a lot of habitat.”

With less tree canopy and more sunlight, the cold-blooded reptiles could thrive in warmer waters and on sunnier rocks.

But the new generation is key.

“Because the site was so forested and hadn’t burned in so long, we don’t think they were having good success at breeding,” Fisher said. “Now we think we’ve really enhanced the population by putting more animals out there, especially young animals.”

Scott and Fisher said the saga has inspired preliminary conversations about formalizing breeding efforts to support the population. The little turtles' myriad threats have yet to let up, so they’ll likely need more help in the future.

But at the moment, there’s a little more hope — at least 16 hatchlings and 11 adults' worth of hope, to be exact — for California’s only native freshwater turtle.