Goodable

Ke Huy Quan won the Golden Globe for best supporting actor for his performance in “Everything Everywhere All at Once.” The first-time Golden Globe nominee was emotional when he took the stage, saying, “When I started my career as a child actor in ‘Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom,’ I felt so very lucky to have been chosen. As I grew older, I started to wonder if that was it, if that was just luck. For so many years, I was afraid I had nothing more to offer. Thankfully, more than 30 years later, two guys thought of me and they gave me an opportunity.”

<p>Ke Huy Quan won the Golden Globe for best supporting actor for his performance in “Everything Everywhere All at Once.” The first-time Golden Globe nominee was emotional when he took the stage, saying, “When I started my career as a child actor in ‘Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom,’ I felt so very lucky to have been chosen. As I grew older, I started to wonder if that was it, if that was just luck. For so many years, I was afraid I had nothing more to offer. Thankfully, more than 30 years later, two guys thought of me and they gave me an opportunity.”<br></p>

Watch: One of the Most Powerful Golden Globe Acceptance Speeches

At Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh, researchers are giving new meaning to the term “rescue dog.”

In a lab at the university’s Robotics Institute, a robot named Spotless is being trained to go where humans can’t — sniffing out danger, locating casualties, and helping medics make faster, safer decisions in disaster zones.

“This is the dog that saves your life,” said Kimberly Elenberg, a principal project scientist working on the project.

While Pittsburgh may still be known as the Steel City, it’s quietly building a second reputation as a national tech powerhouse. The U.S. Department of Defense has invested heavily in robotics and artificial intelligence here, fueling research projects like Spotless that blend cutting-edge technology with real-world application.

During a recent demonstration, Elenberg showed how Spotless could assist in a simulated search and rescue scenario. The robot dog — built on Boston Dynamics’ four-legged platform but customized with sensors and software — is equipped to navigate hazardous areas, detect environmental threats, and even monitor a victim’s vital signs.

“It’s looking for casualties,” Elenberg explained. “It wants to assess the situation.”

Using built-in chemical sensors and cameras, Spotless can “sniff” the air to detect dangerous gases and scan for movement or injuries. In the demonstration, it quickly identified potential victims and relayed their status back to human responders.

“This would have taken longer for the medics to come in, because they wouldn't have known, what is that gas,” Elenberg said. “They wouldn't have known, how many casualties are there.”

The goal is to reduce response times in critical situations, particularly in environments that are too risky for first responders to enter immediately — like chemical spills, bomb threats, or collapsed buildings.

And when Spotless finishes its mission? No biscuits or belly rubs. Just a fresh battery.

The project is part of a broader effort by Carnegie Mellon to push the boundaries of robotics for public safety and military use. With growing investment from the Department of Defense and private industry, Pittsburgh’s tech scene — anchored by institutions like Carnegie Mellon — is emerging as a national leader in robotics innovation.

As for Spotless, it might not bark or wag its tail, but when lives are on the line, it could be the first to find someone who needs help — and the reason they make it home.

Meet Spotless: The Robotic Rescue Dog That Could One Day Save Your Life

BBC News

The East Yorkshire coast is known for its stunning views and sandy beaches — but for a growing number of visitors, it’s what’s hidden beneath the surface that matters most.

Fossil hunting along the rapidly eroding cliffs and shores has become a major draw, attracting amateur paleontologists from as far afield as China and the United States. And for those who’ve caught the “bug,” there’s no turning back.

“You can't stop once the fossil hunting bug hits,” said Harry Tabiner, who’s been combing the beaches near Mappleton for years. On a bright but chilly winter’s day, he shared stories of his best finds, including a mammoth tusk and a woolly rhino tooth.

“When you find something that hasn't been seen for 200 million years, it's amazing. It's got the wow factor,” he said.

Tabiner’s obsession began when he was just four years old, thanks to his father bringing fossils home. It wasn’t until he was older that the fascination really took hold.

“We've had a caravan here at the coast for 35 years,” he said. “It was always fantastic to get on the beach, especially with my sons, to see what we could find. All fossils excite me. I don't think I could ever get bored of them.”

He’s not alone. On the sand nearby, fellow fossil hunter Mark Kemp, better known online as the Yorkshire Fossil Hunter, is already searching for his next discovery.

Fossil hunting has exploded in popularity, Kemp said, with social media platforms like Instagram and TikTok helping to turn the hobby into a global phenomenon.

“You meet some really interesting people,” he said. “I once took Hollywood actor Gary Oldman and his wife out collecting, but I've also met people from as far away as China.”

So what keeps people coming back?

“It makes you think about what used to be here,” Kemp said. “These fossils were around when the dinosaurs roamed the land and giant reptiles ruled the ocean. If you find a fossil, you know you're the first person to have ever seen it.”

As if to prove the point, he used a hammer to chip away at a smooth, round rock, revealing a perfect ammonite inside — a coiled, prehistoric shell frozen in time.

“It's a beauty,” he said, smiling.

While the thrill of discovery is undeniable, both Kemp and Tabiner urge caution for newcomers. Fossil hunting might seem harmless, but the coastline is notoriously unstable and the tides can turn quickly.

“You need to stay away from the cliff when you're on the beach,” Kemp warned. “And it is so important to look at the tide times. You want to collect when it’s falling and be back to safety before high water when the tide comes in.”

There are also rules to follow. Under the Coast Protection Act 1949, it’s illegal to remove natural materials like sand, shells, or pebbles from the beach. Enforcement varies by council, but fines can reach up to £1,000.

That said, fossils are generally permitted to be collected — as long as they're loose and not dug out from protected areas or cliff faces.

For those who come prepared, the rewards can be extraordinary: ancient lifeforms revealed in rock, the thrill of discovery, and a deep connection to the prehistoric past.

Or, as Tabiner puts it: “Once you get the bug, it’s hard to get rid of.”

Why Fossil Hunters are Flocking to the UK Coast In Search Of Prehistoric Treasures

After more than three decades of service, Richard Kirk has been recognised with a Long Service Award for his dedication to the Royal National Lifeboat Institution (RNLI) in Cromer, north Norfolk.

Kirk, who joined the station at just 19, has played a part in saving at least 27 lives since first stepping into the lifeboat world in 1990. Now 53, he reflects on a lifetime of service that started with a single emergency launch he witnessed with his father back in 1989.

“I was instantly gripped,” he said. “The lifeboat station was my second family. It meant everything to me. From the moment I started coming down as a kid, I felt part of something special.”

Over the years, Kirk has taken on nearly every role possible within the crew — from navigator to head launcher to shore crew. Through it all, he never lost sight of the RNLI’s core mission: saving lives at sea.

“It’s nice to know those 27 people are hopefully still with us today,” he said. “You are never going to top people like Henry Blogg.”

Blogg, a Cromer fisherman who died in 1954, is considered the RNLI’s most decorated lifeboatman and remains a towering figure in the station’s history. But Kirk, who recently stepped away from lifeboat duties in November 2023, has quietly built a legacy of his own.

“I’ve never ever not felt safe on a lifeboat,” he said. “I’ve been in some rough weather on the boat and I’ve never ever not felt safe. Everything I’ve done — from exercises to launching to lifeboat days — I’ll never forget them.”

Kirk's decades-long involvement coincided with major changes in the RNLI. What was once a crew made up entirely of local fishermen now draws in people from all backgrounds.

“When I first joined in 1990, the whole crew was just fishermen,” he said. “Now it’s all walks of life who come through the door.”

Despite stepping back, he says the rewards of the job have always been clear.

“The rewards of saving someone’s life or just being there — you’ll learn lots of new skills. It’s worth doing, definitely.”

John Redmond, lifeboat operations manager at Cromer RNLI, praised Kirk’s contribution.

“Richard’s dedication to Cromer Lifeboat Station over so many years has been exceptional,” he said. “He has carried out a wide range of demanding roles with skill, reliability and passion and his commitment has made a real difference.

“We are hugely grateful for everything he has given to the station and the RNLI.”

This Hero Was Just Honored for 30 Years of Lifesaving Service

Tucked away in the quiet village of Holwell, Dorset, sits one of Britain’s most charming historical quirks: the country’s oldest working octagonal red postbox. Still in use nearly 170 years after it was first installed, the postbox has become an unlikely attraction for history buffs, postal enthusiasts, and curious passersby from across the UK.

What sets this postbox apart isn’t just its age — it’s the shape. Most UK postboxes are cylindrical, but the Holwell box features the rare octagonal design used in the earliest days of the Royal Mail’s roadside letterboxes. And while it may look solid and dependable, it hasn’t always been the most practical.

“I posted someone a letter and I waited and waited but they didn't receive it,” said Pat Bath, who lives right next door. “After three weeks, I took it up with the postman when he came and he opened up the letterbox and it was there, still inside, impaled on some netting in the bottom.”

The box’s odd angles and narrow opening were designed in a time when most mail was slim and square. But modern-sized letters sometimes get stuck, and repairs aren’t easy either.

“It does cause quite a challenge to the guys who repair them because obviously parts from 1853 are hard to come by,” said local postman Ryan Steer. “But somehow, they always work their miracles and get it operational again fairly quickly.”

Despite the occasional hiccup, the postbox continues to delight. Visitors often make the trek to Holwell just to snap a photo. Some even knock on Bath’s door, assuming she owns the postbox, and politely ask for permission to take pictures.

Steer says he’s lost count of how many times he’s been asked to pose with it. “One gentleman, who'd come all the way from London just to come have a look at it, was one of my first ones,” he said. “I felt a bit embarrassed because I didn't know too much about it. After that I thought I'd better learn a bit more for when people do turn up.”

Holwell’s postbox has a proud place in British postal history, dating back to 1853, just after letterboxes were trialed in the Channel Islands. The idea for roadside letterboxes came from Anthony Trollope — better known as a novelist, but who also worked as a surveyor’s clerk for the Post Office. He had seen similar boxes in Europe and suggested the idea as a solution to poor postal access on the Channel Islands.

The first boxes were installed on Guernsey and Jersey in the early 1850s, and after a successful run, the idea was adopted on the UK mainland — with Holwell’s octagonal box among the very first.

Chris Taft from the Postal Museum says the early design eventually gave way to the familiar round shape, in part because it couldn’t accommodate modern mail.

“It was designed in a day when letters were smaller,” Taft said. “There was no such thing as large format letters that we get today.”

Still, the postbox in Holwell remains a link to that early postal era — a bright red reminder of how a simple idea helped transform how people sent mail.

For Steer, who empties the box regularly, the novelty hasn’t worn off. “I do feel weirdly lucky in a way that I'm emptying the oldest postbox in the UK,” he said.

And for visitors who make the trip to this sleepy Dorset village, it’s a rare chance to see a piece of living history — one you can still post a letter in.

This Tiny Village is Home to the UK’s Oldest Working Postbox — and People Can’t Stop Visiting

YR - Aurora News

It’s not officially winter in Midland until Pat Brodeur finishes sculpting his backyard snow creatures.

For the fourth year in a row, Brodeur has transformed the yard behind his Wawinet Street home into a snow-sculpture showcase. This year’s centerpiece? A towering three-metre polar bear, complete with black stencilled claws, eyes, ears, and lips. Beside it, a cub keeps watch near a custom-built ice hole that will soon host a polar bear plunge.

“The main event is the polar bear; it’s probably bigger than the largest polar bear ever,” Brodeur said.

The project also includes a functional igloo built with hand-cut snow blocks and a firepit tucked inside, forming a cozy winter den. Brodeur began sculpting the cub at 7 a.m. one morning and finished it within a few hours. But to complete the scene, he had to raise the entire level of his backyard — all for the sake of getting the polar bear to appear as if it’s peering into the three-foot-deep ice hole.

“I’ve got a dunk tank, so I do cold-plunges, which I’ll do next week,” he said. Naturally, the plunge will be followed by time in the backyard sauna just a few steps away.

The sculpture came together thanks to a generous December snowfall and some very neighbourly snow sharing.

“I was shovelling for six neighbours, scooping it and bringing it over,” Brodeur said. “I would say, ‘Can I borrow your snow?’ They would say, ‘Take as much as you need!’”

The igloo itself started as a structure around the backyard firepit, until a young neighbour helped shift the vision.

“‘Oh, look at the castle; you need a creature with this castle,’” the child said. “And so it just started.”

At first, Brodeur used recycling bins to shape the igloo blocks, but eventually switched to using a handsaw on tightly packed snow from the front yard — a method closer to how traditional igloos are built on frozen lakes.

“When they make an igloo, they go onto the lake and cut blocks; so this is the true form of making an igloo, once I pack it down and it’s gone through the thaw,” he explained.

Brodeur’s backyard sculptures have become an annual tradition. Past creations include a Norse kraken, a Himalayan yeti, and a fire-breathing dragon alongside a snow castle. While he’s never been a traditional woodcarver, he’s dabbled in crafting wooden toys and vehicles for friends and kids, drawing from designs they’ve given him.

His wife Mary says that every year brings a new surprise.

“Every year he just gets better and better at it,” she said. “He sometimes says, ‘I’m not going to do it this year, it’s a lot of work,’ but then winter rolls around and the snow starts coming down, and I see the twinkle in his eye… and the next thing I know he’s in the backyard.”

Despite growing attention, Brodeur says he has no interest in entering competitions like Penetanguishene’s Winterama festival.

“That kind of scares me, to have a competition where you’re under the gun. I like when I can go at my own pace,” he said.

The snow and ice creations sit quietly behind the Brodeur home, but they’re never lonely. Curious visitors often wander by for a friendly look, eager to see what new sculpture has sprung up with the season.

One thing’s for sure — in Midland, winter isn’t just a season. It’s a canvas.

Ontario Man Unveils Giant Polar Bear Snow Sculpture to Delight Visitors

A steam engine made famous by The Railway Children is set to run again after an anonymous donor contributed £200,000 to bring it back to life.

The Keighley & Worth Valley Railway (KWVR) confirmed the donation will fund the full restoration of locomotive No 5775, a six-wheeled pannier tank engine best known for its role in the 1970 film starring Jenny Agutter, Bernard Cribbins, and Lionel Jeffries.

“We are incredibly grateful for this generosity,” said Fran Hartley, who is co-leading the restoration project. “It has allowed us to begin restoring a locomotive that means so much to the railway and to the public. Our volunteers are now making steady progress and bringing this remarkable engine back to life.”

Built in 1929 at Swindon Works for the Great Western Railway, No 5775 spent decades working in south Wales before it was withdrawn from mainline service in 1963. It was then sold to London Transport and rebranded as L89, where it worked on engineering and maintenance trains around the capital.

The locomotive was rescued for preservation in 1970 and brought to the KWVR in West Yorkshire. That same year, it was repainted in a fictional livery as part of its starring role in The Railway Children.

Since being withdrawn from heritage service in 1999, the engine has remained largely out of sight, awaiting a full overhaul. Now, thanks to the unexpected financial boost, restoration work is underway at the charity’s Haworth base.

The news coincides with fresh momentum for the historic railway itself. Earlier this week, Bradford Council released the first £50,000 from a wider £5 million government investment aimed at upgrading the KWVR’s infrastructure.

That money, part of a £19.8 million Levelling Up deal for Keighley announced in 2023, will go towards a feasibility study that includes hiring a project manager and scoping improvements such as track restoration, signalling upgrades, and better facilities across the line.

Matt Stroh, chairman of the Keighley & Worth Valley Railway, called the funding a strong start to 2026.

“We’ve worked closely with the team at Bradford Council and this is a great way to start the new year,” he said. “We are delighted to be moving forward with these transformative plans. It will serve as the foundation for securing further investment, driving tourism, creating local jobs, and enhancing community pride.”

The twin developments — a beloved engine returning to steam and new money flowing into the railway’s future — have set an optimistic tone for what’s shaping up to be a milestone year for one of Britain’s most iconic heritage lines.

Anonymous Donor Gifts £200,000 to Restore Iconic Railway Locomotive

It was the busiest year on record for the RNLI crew in Cullercoats, and at the centre of it all was their newest helm, Carl Taylor — plasterer by trade, lifesaver by choice.

Taylor, 38, became a helm for his hometown lifeboat station in January 2025. By the end of the year, the station had responded to 69 call-outs, the most in its history. Taylor was involved in 58 of them — and captained the boat for 23.

“It is a lot of responsibility but I love it,” he said.

Between running his own plastering business and raising a two-year-old son with his partner Georgia, Taylor’s schedule is already tight. But as one of only two qualified helms at the station, he’s on call constantly, often needing to be within 15 minutes of the boathouse.

“She is supportive,” Taylor said of Georgia, before admitting with a laugh, “Sometimes it can bug her too.”

Every lifeboat launch needs a helm onboard — the person in command who not only leads the rescue but is responsible for the safety of everyone involved. Taylor shares those duties with fellow helm Anna Heslop-Latif.

“We are like the captain of the boat,” he explained. “We are responsible for the safety of everyone on board and for making sure the job goes well.”

He still remembers his first call-out vividly: a search operation for someone in the water. It required him to order two of his crew to jump in.

“I didn’t question it,” said Neil Simpson, one of the crew who jumped. “I have 100% faith in Carl. There’s no-one who has helped me more in the past, but I think if you asked everyone, they would all say the same. That’s testament to his impact on the station.”

The job of a helm demands quick thinking, trust in the team, and the ability to make high-stakes decisions in unpredictable conditions.

“You’ve got to just trust the training and the crew,” Taylor said. “Really it’s about keeping everyone safe.”

In May, he led the lifeboat crew in rescuing two brothers caught in a dangerous rip current at Longsands beach. Not long after, he was called to another rescue attempt where a teenager could not be saved.

There have been all kinds of jobs — searches for missing people, hours-long towing operations, and rapid-response rescues. In every case, the routine is the same: the pager goes off, and he gets to the station.

“You never know what you will be facing,” he said. “You have try and plan what you can in your mind. Then you take the job on and be as professional as you can.”

Taylor first joined the RNLI as a 17-year-old volunteer, driven by his love of boats and a desire to help people. After five years of service, he stepped back when life got busier. But five years ago, during a station open day, he signed up again.

“I always had my eyes on it but I never knew if it was going to happen,” he said of becoming a helm. Since then, he’s completed the training and logged more time at the station than almost anyone else. In 2025, he attended 156 times — nearly once every two days.

“Sometimes it does feel like I should just move in to the station,” he joked.

In addition to rescues and training, he’s now working with the RNLI on the development of the next generation of lifeboats.

Crew member Sarah Whitelaw said Taylor is a trusted and respected leader.

“He exemplifies the RNLI’s values,” she said. “He’s committed so much time, effort and energy, all as a volunteer.”

Despite the sacrifices, Taylor isn’t slowing down.

“I do really enjoy it,” he said. “It’s just nice to be out at sea on the boat.”

Cullercoats Lifeboat Crew Achieves Record Year Under New Helm Carl Taylor

It started with a hungover raccoon in a liquor store bathroom. It ended with nearly $180,000 raised for an animal shelter.

Last December, Hanover County Animal Protection in Virginia got a call that sounded more like a prank than real life: a raccoon had broken into the Ashland ABC liquor store in Richmond, trashed the place, then passed out in the bathroom.

Officer Martin responded to the scene and found the raccoon sprawled out and unresponsive—surrounded by broken bottles and empty shelves.

“Upon arrival, she discovered the ‘suspect’ had broken in, ransacked several shelves, and then… passed out in the bathroom,” the shelter wrote in a Facebook post on December 2nd.

Luckily, the raccoon wasn’t injured. Martin safely scooped him up and brought him back to the shelter “to sober up before questioning.” After a few hours of sleep, the raccoon was deemed healthy—if a little hungover—and was released back into the wild.

Online, the animal quickly became a celebrity.

Dubbed the “trashed panda” (a nod to their resemblance to pandas and reputation for dumpster diving), the raccoon became the face of a viral fundraising campaign that no one saw coming.

The photo Officer Martin snapped of the disoriented raccoon curled up next to an open liquor bottle spread fast. Within days, fans were calling for t-shirts, mugs, and hoodies to commemorate the moment.

That’s where Bonfire came in. The company, which lets users create and sell custom merchandise, stepped in with a line of “trashed panda” gear—each one featuring the now-iconic image of the raccoon lying next to a bottle with a hashtag supporting the animal shelter.

By December 5th, sales had already topped $100,000. The final total? A staggering $180,000, all of it going directly to Hanover County Animal Protection.

The money will help the shelter care for local animals and fund officer training for future wild encounters.

“After a few hours of sleep and zero signs of injury (other than maybe a hangover and poor life choices), he was safely released back to the wild,” the shelter wrote. “Hopefully having learned that breaking and entering is not the answer.”

Online, though, people couldn’t get enough.

Some bought shirts. Others donated just to support the raccoon’s recovery. Many more just shared the photo, laughed at the story, and cheered on what may be the most relatable bandit of 2025.

In the end, a raccoon with questionable judgment gave thousands of people a reason to smile—and helped raise serious funds for animals that actually need saving.

Raccoon Goes Viral After Liquor Store Break-In Raises $180,000 for Animal Shelter

CTV News

On most days, Toronto’s transit system is a quiet, head-down, no-eye-contact kind of place. But when Minjae Cho steps onto a TTC bus, something shifts.

Cho, known online as Magnetic MJ, has built a following of more than 200,000 people simply by doing something unexpected: talking to strangers. Whether it’s “Hope you have an amazing week,” “Thank you for being a part of our city,” or just “I love you,” his words often land where they’re needed most — among people who weren’t expecting any kindness at all.

Sometimes, he hands out handwritten notes or small gifts. Other times, it’s just a smile and a moment of connection. His interactions are filmed (with permission) and shared online, usually ending with laughter, surprise, or even a hug.

“I was in a lonely, disconnected part of my life,” Cho told CTV News Toronto. “This was a way to rebuild my confidence — and help others feel seen.”

That personal turning point collided with a growing societal issue. According to a 2023 Toronto Foundation report, 37 percent of Torontonians say they feel lonely several days a week. Statistics Canada data from February 2025 showed over 13 percent of Canadians feel lonely “always or often,” and another 37 percent feel lonely “sometimes.”

What started as a way for Cho to rebuild his own confidence quickly became a lifeline for others.

He first began by greeting strangers while out walking, then moved to TTC stops and eventually full rides across the city. The TTC — packed with people from every background — felt like the perfect stage. “The TTC is like Toronto in a nutshell,” he said. “What I’m doing is harmless. Most people see my effort and respond positively.”

Not only have TTC passengers warmed to his spontaneous compliments and cheer, but TTC officials have taken notice too. CEO Mandeep Lali praised the videos for spreading joy and confirmed that the interactions are all consensual.

Christina Gallo from the Canadian Mental Health Association (CMHA) Toronto said Cho’s approach aligns with what we know about human connection. “It feels good to do nice things because we are wired for connection,” she said.

Cho’s initiative, called the “I Love You Challenge,” has sparked memorable encounters — passengers thanking him for lifting them out of bad days, people bursting into tears, or sharing that no one had said something kind to them in a long time. One viewer who had been considering self-harm said they decided to stay alive after watching Cho’s videos for thirty minutes.

The kindness is simple, but the impact runs deep.

Cho has since quit his sales job to dedicate himself full-time to spreading positivity. Through Social Reset — a growing community that helps men regain social confidence — he’s expanded his reach across coffee shops, malls, and anywhere people gather. He funds his lifestyle through savings and occasional Uber shifts.

Toronto Mayor Olivia Chow praised Cho’s work, calling it a reminder of the power of small acts of kindness and how they can foster a deeper sense of belonging, especially in everyday spaces like transit.

“If everyone talked with one stranger weekly,” Cho said, “it would create ripple effects throughout society.”

In a city known for politeness but often lacking in connection, one man’s smile on a crowded bus is helping people feel seen again.

Toronto’s “TTC Positivity Guy” Is Using Kindness to Combat Loneliness — One Ride at a Time

euronews

Dr Toby Kiers, an evolutionary biologist at Vrije University in Amsterdam, has been awarded the 2026 Tyler Prize for Environmental Achievement — one of the most prestigious honors in climate science — for her groundbreaking work on one of the planet’s most overlooked ecosystems: fungi.

Often described as the "Nobel Prize" for climate, the Tyler Prize comes with a $250,000 award and recognizes outstanding contributions to environmental science, health, and energy. Dr Kiers earned the honor by shining a spotlight on vast underground fungal networks that play a massive, yet invisible, role in absorbing carbon dioxide and supporting life on Earth.

“These networks move massive amounts of nutrients and carbon,” Kiers explains. “They are responsible for drawing down 13 billion tons of CO2 into soil systems every year — that’s a third of emissions from fossil fuels.”

The fungi in question are called mycorrhizal fungi. They form symbiotic partnerships with plant roots, creating underground superhighways that circulate water, nutrients, and carbon across ecosystems. In exchange for sugars from plants, the fungi deliver nutrients like phosphorus, boost drought resistance, and even make “bigger, sweeter” flowers that help pollinators thrive.

For tens of millions of years, these fungi served as root systems for plants, long before plants evolved roots of their own. But today, they’re under threat — and largely ignored.

“The destruction of underground networks increases global warming, accelerates biodiversity loss, and disrupts nutrient cycles,” Kiers warns. “Despite their critical importance, less than 0.02 percent of Earth’s terrestrial surface has been mapped for mycorrhizal fungi.”

According to Kiers, this blind spot poses a major problem for conservation and climate strategies, which tend to focus on forests and oceans while ignoring what’s underfoot.

To fix that, she and her team launched the Underground Atlas last year — the first global map of mycorrhizal fungi distribution. The atlas helps identify regions most vital for fungal conservation and supports efforts to protect these powerful carbon sinks from threats like deforestation, erosion, and harmful agricultural practices.

Using lab experiments, her team also discovered that fungi don’t just absorb carbon passively. They actively transport phosphorus from areas of abundance to areas of scarcity, which in turn enhances their carbon-storing capabilities.

“My job was just to become an Underground Astronaut, pull together a network of fungal-forward scientists, put on a jumpsuit and work with local collaborators around the world to start exploring,” Kiers said.

Her collaborator, biophysicist Tom Shimizu, helped lead the robotic imaging efforts that allowed her team to visualize and study these networks in new ways.

Kiers hopes the Tyler Prize helps bring attention to what she calls a “completely invisible” ecosystem. “My aim has been to pioneer a new way of understanding life on Earth,” she said. “But this is hard when the new understanding is completely invisible.”

She’s also optimistic that the prize will offer her a rare opportunity as a working scientist: time to dream. “Scientists never get to just dream,” she said. “This will help me take a deep breath and actually dream.”

And her goal is as bold as it is rooted in soil: to flip how the world thinks about what’s happening beneath our feet. “Once people are curious,” she says, “they’re hooked for life.”

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