Understanding the Surprising Subterranean Lives of Bees | June 09 2026, 01:12

I learned today that 70% of all bee species live underground. Another ~25% live in wood, and only ~5% live in hives, build combs, or live in colonies. Male bees are homeless; they’re only allowed home for sex. Outside, it’s cold, hungry, and dangerous. To protect themselves from predators, males of some species gather in “sleeping camps”. They hang onto grass blades with their jaws, stretch out their legs, and fall asleep in clusters of several dozens. They defend themselves from predators through the “dilution effect” – the more bees in a pile, the less likely you are to be eaten. The idea is simple: a predator can eat only a limited number of victims in one go. If you’re sitting on the stem alone and a predator comes – you’re eaten, the chance of dying is ~100%. But if there are fifty of you on the stem, the predator will still take one or two bees, but your chance of becoming the victim drops to a couple of percent. Red currant likely protects itself in a similar manner.

You might ask, who are the predators that eat bees? Mainly in those regions, it is the bug Apiomerus flaviventris. The bug pierces the sleeping male with its proboscis and sucks out the contents. Don’t ask where it pierces

The Radical Survival Strategy of Elysia marginata: Decapitation and Regrowth | May 24 2026, 21:10

Today I learned about the sea slug Elysia marginata, which (I quote) can lose its head like no other: when this slug is overwhelmed by parasites, it doesn’t go on marathons to Instagram gurus but takes a radical approach — it detaches its head and starts a new life. (I quote Anna Fe above and below because I learned everything from her post) The slug’s neck has a special groove labeled “cut here.” The head separates along this line, not immediately, but over several hours. Having shed its fatty, annoying body, the head, giggling, crawls away, saying “goodbye” to its former self – along with all the parasites, and also with the heart, kidneys, intestines, and reproductive organs. The slug survives understandably – “like everyone else, using its head (it eats with it).”

And here I started thinking: is the definition of a head—where you eat from? How do biologists understand where the head is in some fantastical creature? For example, does a sea cucumber have a head?

I Googled it. Wow, interesting. No, the head is not where you eat from. It is what first encounters the surrounding environment when moving forward. Since this end needs to quickly understand what’s ahead (danger or food), during evolution, two things concentrate there:

1) Main sensory organs (eyes, antennae, locators, chemical receptors)

2) CNS (brain or the largest nerve nodes – ganglia), to instantly process the information received from these organs.

Therefore, they write, when a biologist looks at an unknown fantastical thing,” he looks not for the mouth, but for the main control point. Where there is the highest concentration of nerve cells and receptors, there is the head.

But let’s return to the independent head of the slug. How does it manage without a stomach?

These slugs feed on algae and are able to retain their chloroplasts (structures for photosynthesis) in their tissues. Thus, the head temporarily turns into a plant and gets energy directly from sunlight, while it regrows its new body. The wound on the neck heals within 2 days, a new heart takes about a week to grow, and a fully new torso with all organs—just 20 days.

The former body, meanwhile, just lives its life on the ocean floor. Its heart beats and nerves feel, but poor thing, it cannot eat and eventually dies from exhaustion.

Colorful Climbing: A Fun Indoor Adventure with Masha | April 27 2026, 15:03

Went to the mountains with Masha. Yellow paths over yellow, red over red. The organizers should put a box of candies at the top. Found out that the muscles in my fingers are non-existent, and the rest hurt the next day. Cool experience (not the first time)

Crabs in Love: Monogamous Parasites of Sea Turtles | April 15 2026, 21:56

WOW, it turns out that under the shell near the anus of sea turtles, the parasitic crabs Planes minutus make themselves at home, and there’s only enough space for a cozy duo, so they form a monogamous pair and live happily ever after inside the turtle’s butt (had no idea what to do with this information, so I brought it here). In relation to the turtle, this is commensalism. It’s when it’s good for one (or in our case, two), and the third doesn’t give a damn. I see a scientific paper claiming that they sometimes mistake the turtle for ocean debris, where there’s room for more than one wife, and then, goodbye monogamy. But, at least, no butts involved.

Yuki’s Mysterious Bi-Annual Behavior Shifts | April 09 2026, 14:31

Yuki’s “ooooh” mode is activated again (April 7, 2026). It usually lasts a few days in April and October.

Previous occurrences were –

– October 15-20, 2025

– April 11, 2025

– April 1-4, 2024

– February 2, 2023,

– October 27, 2022,

– March 15, 2022

Behavior changes during this period include:

1) He might sing songs for hours on end. For instance, at six in the morning.

2) Suddenly, he likes to go for walks. Usually, he does not. Even though he always has access to the yard, he specifically needs to go on a walk. He might go to the door and knock on it with his paw. Usually, at the word “walk,” he rushes to the third floor.

Now, he looks into your mouth when you’re talking to him. Always seems to be waiting for something, possibly expecting the question of whether he wants to go for a walk. He knocks on the window and the front door with his paw.

And yes, he starts wanting to walk at around six in the morning, and then again soon after returning from a walk.

3) On the walk, he sticks his nose in the grass every five minutes, and it’s hard to pull him away. Usually, this is rare, but now it’s constant.

4) He might sit and watch the sunset for half an hour.

5) Unstable appetite, occasionally. You put meat on top of his food, and he doesn’t even look at it.