Research

Can concussions cause fear of movement?

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 18 Mar 2026 17:12:43 +0000

Can concussions cause fear of movement? Rachel Sauer Wed, 03/18/2026 - 11:12

Alexandra Phelps

CU ��ý�� neuroscience student Alexander Wiegman’s research finds that a history of concussions doesn’t necessarily lead to later kinesiophobia

Stadium lights stream over the field. It’s Friday night, and over the course of the football game touchdowns have been scored, penalty flags have flown and countless plays have been run. However, on the next play, something goes awry. A player is down on the field and they’re helped to the medical tent. Upon further observation, medics diagnose a concussion.

In sports, injury is always a possibility. A misstep or collision can cause an athlete to need a period of recovery, changing not only their physical health but also their relationship with movement. For Alexander Wiegman, a former football player and an undergraduate ��ý�� neuroscience student, a similar reality became personal and, later, scientific.

Alexander Wiegman, a former football player and an undergraduate ��ý�� neuroscience student, studies how concussions can lead to kinesiophobia, a debilitating fear of movement that usually results from an injury or re-injury.

Wiegman’s recently published research in the journal Brain Injury examines how concussions can lead to kinesiophobia, a debilitating fear of movement that usually results from an injury or re-injury.

Individuals who’ve experienced kinesiophobia, a fear of movement due to the possibility of pain, can have decreased physical activity levels, stemming from the fear and hesitancy of activity. Research such as Wiegman’s, which looks into the mental recovery from a concussion, seeks to predict which patients are more likely to develop severe kinesiophobia. Building a broader understanding of the mental effects of concussions can help providers to optimize care and provide recommendations for how individuals can recover from kinesiophobia.

Working with Dr. David Howell, Dr. Julie Wilson and the team of researchers in the Colorado Concussion Research Laboratory (CCRL) at the University of Colorado Anschutz, Wiegman initially predicted that if a patient experienced a lower initial symptom severity as well as a lower number of prior concussions, they would have lower kinesiophobia scores. However, the research findings suggested the opposite.

From the field to the lab

Wiegman played football for as long as he can remember, and like many athletes, he experienced injuries, including concussions. Even after going through his recovery care with the help of a concussion specialist, he was still unsure about moving his body again. This fear inspired him to begin his research.

As an undergraduate, he has had an opportunity to bring his experience with concussion care full circle. Working alongside his co-researchers, Wiegman transformed his initial experience with concussions into a hypothesis. He notes that he was allowed “to take the reins with my project. We began by discussing my experience with concussions because I've been through it. The fear of movement and the fear of getting back to activity is something that I really struggled with.

“I was always a math and science person, and by the time I got to high school, I knew I wanted to study something in that realm. But by the time I got to college, I knew I wanted to go into medicine.”

Understanding the fear of movement

Kinesiophobia is a response that has been documented across many types of injuries, though it's been less studied in people diagnosed with concussions. With numerous injuries, kinesiophobia can contribute to other symptoms even after the injury itself has healed. Understanding kinesiophobia is important because it can affect the severity of initial injuries, including concussions. A patient’s quality of life and recovery times are all aspects that can be impacted.

To better understand this gap in kinesiophobia research with concussions, Wiegman collaborated with CCRL researchers. Participants completed one assessment within 21 days of their injury and another between 30 and 90 days post-concussion.

“It is possible that individuals who have experiences with prior injuries understand the recovery process and have developed resilience against the negative aspects of fear of movement,” says CU ��ý�� researcher Alexander Wiegman. (Photo: John Torcasio/Unsplash)

From a clinical perspective, "the first thing you think about is getting someone physically healthy," Wiegman explains, adding that he and his co-researchers examined "the broader idea of mental health after concussions" in an attempt to enhance the care that can be provided after a concussion. Wiegman and his research colleagues looked at the period post-concussion because typically this is when the physical injury has recovered. Focusing on this window of time allowed them to better understand how patients were recovering both physically and mentally from their injury.

What looking under the hood revealed

Contrary to Wiegman’s hypothesis that patients who had a more extensive injury history would exhibit more severe kinesiophobia, these patients actually displayed less-severe kinesiophobia.

However, after analyzing patient data, Wiegman concluded that those who had previously recovered from injuries were less fearful in moving their body again. “It is possible that individuals who have experiences with prior injuries understand the recovery process and have developed resilience against the negative aspects of fear of movement,” he says.

The research found that there was no evidence to suggest that age, sex, or prior concussions were independently associated with kinesiophobia. Wiegman concluded that prior injury and the experience of recovery may be one of the most influential factors in how a patient may or may not develop kinesiophobia.

Looking ahead

As a senior, Wiegman is pursuing a route to medical school. Interning as an athletic trainer with CU ��ý��’s track and football teams, as well as working as a phlebotomist, he’s had hands-on experience with athletes and their injuries. As Wiegman was completing his research and defending his senior thesis, he also studied for and took the MCAT.

Wiegman hopes to learn more about the relationship between kinesiophobia and concussions. “In my mind, I wanted to find some definitiveness, especially with this being intended to be used in a clinical setting; I really wanted to have the answer,” he says. “It was hard to wrap my head around [the fact] that we have data, but we don’t have an answer per se.” He explains that this research is a step in the right direction and hopes to continue on to further research of kinesiophobia and other mental health disparities following concussions.

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CU ��ý�� neuroscience student Alexander Wiegman’s research finds that a history of concussions doesn’t necessarily lead to later kinesiophobia.

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Top photo: John Torcasio/Unsplash

Scientist lives by the Serengeti Rules

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 17 Mar 2026 02:17:06 +0000

Scientist lives by the Serengeti Rules Rachel Sauer Mon, 03/16/2026 - 20:17

Rachel Sauer

Author, filmmaker and scholar Sean B. Carroll, formerly a CU ��ý�� postdoctoral researcher, will deliver the Rose M. Litman Memorial Lecture in Science April 7

When Sean B. Carroll came to the ��ý�� in 1983, right out of graduate school and newly hired as a postdoctoral researcher in the lab of molecular, cellular and developmental biologist Matt Scott, he was somewhat indifferent to Drosophila melanogaster, better known as the fruit fly and Scott’s research focus.

“I was coming from an immunology background, working with furry animals, and my attitude was that studying fruit flies wouldn’t teach us anything general,” Carroll recalls. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with humans or important things, or so I thought. But that was a really narrow view, because it turns out that all these genes that build fruit fly parts are in us—they build parts in us—so fruit flies became a passport to the whole animal kingdom.”

Scientist, author and filmmaker Sean B. Carroll, a former CU ��ý�� postdoctoral researcher, will deliver the Rose M. Litman Memorial Lecture in Science April 7.

And with that passport, Carroll has roamed the planet as an evolutionary developmental biologist and award-winning author and filmmaker, observing life from individual cells to continent-spanning populations. Through his observations and experiences emerged what he came to call “The Serengeti Rules,” based on the idea that everything in the living world is regulated.

He will discuss the discovery of The Serengeti Rules, on which he elaborates in his book of the same name, during the Rose M. Litman Memorial Lecture from 4-5 p.m. April 7 in the CASE Chancellor’s Hall Auditorium.

The Serengeti Rules, as he describes them, are ecological rules that regulate the numbers and kinds of animals and plants in any given place, and how they are being applied to restore some of the greatest wildernesses on the planet.

“Every cell contains a society of molecules, every organ a society of cells, every body a society of organs, every habitat a society of organisms,” he writes in The Serengeti Rules. “Understanding the interactions within each of those societies are the primary aims of molecular biology, physiology and ecology.”

Diversity in the animal kingdom

Before he had roamed the globe as a scientist and filmmaker, however, Carroll was the kid growing up in Toledo, Ohio, flipping over rocks to see what was under them. “I have a love for the entire animal kingdom,” he explains, which guided him to a bachelor’s degree in biology from Washington University and a PhD in immunology from Tufts University.

During his graduate studies, he became very interested in the question of how animal bodies evolve—in understanding how all the diversity in the animal kingdom came about. So, he hatched a plan to solve the mysteries of development.

“Changes in development are what lead to changes in form,” Carroll says. “The whole diversity of the animal kingdom is rooted in development, so we had to crack the black-box mystery of development to get any traction in understanding how the physical diversity of the animal kingdom evolved.”

Thus, the fruit flies. He wagered that studying them could be a key to unlocking the diversity of the animal kingdom—and the genes that govern development—and came to CU ��ý�� determined to pick the lock on that black box.

If you go

What: 2026 Rose M. Litman Memorial Lecture in Science—The Serengeti Rules: The Regulation and Restoration of Biodiversity

Who: Sean B. Carroll

When: 4–5 p.m. Tuesday, April 7, with reception to follow

Where: Chancellor’s Hall Auditorium, Center for Academic Success & Engagement (CASE)

Learn more

“During this time, 1983, oh my god—how an egg turns into a complex creature was a mystery,” he says. “It was a spectacular pageant we could watch from the outside, but we didn’t know what was going on inside. We needed to identify the genes that are necessary for that process, figure out what the genes did.

“It’s hard to overstate both how deep the mystery was but how thrilling these clues were as they started to unfold. Those days were incredibly exhilarating and intense, the lab was a beehive, people worked all days and nights and weekends because, first of all, we were fascinated. Also, we felt we had a shot at some really fundamental discoveries. Looking back, these times don’t happen very often in science where you really have a black-box mystery, and it breaks open—and it broke open partly because of what we did in Matt’s lab and partly because of what our peers around the world did.”

One eureka moment from Carroll’s time in ��ý�� came about 18 months into his research. He had taken on the task of seeing genes in action inside developing fruit fly embryos, working every day in the lab, trying this technique and that technique until his bag of tricks was almost empty; he was no closer to understanding which genes caused wings to grow, for example, or determined their shape.

He remembers a particular time when he took his samples down to a borrowed microscope, flipping on an ultraviolet light because he was looking at fluorescence, “and the best thing I can say is that it was a ‘holy sh^t!’ moment. I remember looking down, and I saw these embryos that had these beautiful green rings circling them, which is the mark of a gene that turns on every other segment.

“That’s the day when the dam broke, the door blew open, the clouds parted. It’s almost overwhelming because now so many things are possible. I went from having nothing to show anybody to essentially having the tools that would allow me to really untangle this puzzle.”

During his April 7 lecture, Sean B. Carroll will discuss the Serengeti Rules, the ecological rules that regulate the numbers and kinds of animals and plants in any given place, and how they are being applied to restore some of the greatest wildernesses on the planet.

A discovery of wings

After completing his CU ��ý�� postdoc, Carroll joined the faculty at the University of Wisconsin Madison, where he continued studying the genes that control animal body patterns and play major roles in the evolution of animal diversity. There he “saw something in the microscope that nobody had ever seen before,” he remembers.

He and the other researchers in his lab isolated the handful of genes that are activated in caterpillars to become butterfly wings. This discovery, published in the journal Science, garnered a feature in The New York Times, an interview on PBS News Hour and an invitation to the White House Correspondents’ Association dinner.

From there, Carroll built a career that marries both research and discovery with science communication—as an investigator and vice president for science education at the Howard Hughes Medical Institute (HHMI) and head of the HHMI Tangled Bank Studios, where he executive produced or was executive in charge of more than 30 documentary films, including the Oscar-nominated and Peabody-winning All That Breathes. He has won three Emmys and been nominated for an additional five.

During that time, “I decided, ‘I’m telling the same story again and again, so I probably should write this down,’” he says. “So, I wrote a book, then I wrote another book.” He has written six books, including Remarkable Creatures: Epic Adventures in the Search for the Origins of Species, which was a finalist for the 2009 National Book Award for nonfiction, and The Serengeti Rules: The Quest to Discover How Life Works and Why It Matters, which will be the foundation for his CU ��ý�� lecture.

Carroll, who is a distinguished university professor and the Andrew and Mary Balo and Nicholas and Susan Simon Chair of Biology at the University of Maryland, credits the depth and success of his career in large part to the collaborations of which he’s been a part. “I like to think my toolkit has grown over the years, but it doesn’t happen all at once and it doesn’t happen alone. I didn’t write a full-length book until I was 45 and truly an expert in my field.

“I think people might look at my portfolio and say the science portfolio is pretty good, the external indicators are good; the writing career, there’s been a fair amount of output; the film career has been good. But in no way could I have done it alone. Science is a hugely collaborative thing; filmmaking’s even more collaborative. An individual like me gets a lot of credit for a body of work owned by an enormous community.”

Through it all—from his extensive travels through the Serengeti to the red carpet at the Academy Awards to the quiet moments in the lab—the joy of discovery and mystery-solving has never ebbed, he says. “I love science because I love nature and I love trying to figure out how nature works. I love the privilege and thrill of peeking into that box and going, ‘Oh, my gosh, that’s how it is.’”

About the Rose M. Litman Memorial Lecture in Science

The Litman Lecture celebrates the legacy of an exceptional scientist and educator with a lifelong passion for research and a firm commitment to keeping rigorous inquiry at the heart of university life.

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Author, filmmaker and scholar Sean B. Carroll, formerly a CU ��ý�� postdoctoral researcher, will deliver the Rose M. Litman Memorial Lecture in Science April 7.

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Study probes the ‘new normal’ for older adults, post-COVID

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 16 Mar 2026 14:30:42 +0000

Study probes the ‘new normal’ for older adults, post-COVID Rachel Sauer Mon, 03/16/2026 - 08:30

Bradley Worrell

Researchers from CU ��ý�� find that the pandemic reshaped how people age 55 and older interact with their communities while highlighting the importance of ‘social infrastructure’

The COVID-19 pandemic reshaped how people interact with their communities, but its effects on older Americans have been especially complex—altering daily routines, social connections and how people move through their communities even years later.

Those changes are at the center of a five‑year longitudinal study led by researchers at the ��ý�� and the University of Michigan. Hayes Hart‑Thompson (they/them), a graduate student and researcher in the CU ��ý�� Department of Geography, helped analyze how older adults adapted their lives during and after the pandemic.

In a recent paper, “A New Normal. Not Bad, Just Different,” Hart-Thompson and study co-authors provided a long-term view of how disruption turns into adaption, based upon survey responses from the same study participants since early 2020, all of whom are 55 or older.

Hayes Hart-Thompson is a graduate student in the CU ��ý�� Department of Geography whose recently published research helped analyze how older adults adapted their lives during and after the COVID-19 pandemic.

“What really stood out,” Hart‑Thompson explains, “was that people weren’t just responding to COVID itself. They were responding to the after‑effects—how the world had changed and how their routines had to change with it.”

Following routines over time

The study began in the early months of the pandemic, when participants were surveyed every month. As the crisis continued, Hart-Thompson says the research shifted to annual surveys, allowing researchers to track how people’s habits, perceptions and social lives evolved. The research focuses primarily on data from the fourth year of the study, although the research team has since received a fifth year of responses.

That fifth year added a reflective dimension, says Hart-Thompson. Participants were asked to look back over the previous five years and consider what they had learned, what they wished they had done differently and how their relationships with their neighborhoods and communities had changed. Hart‑Thompson says many people used that opportunity to rethink whom they spend time with, how they engage socially and what they value most.

“It gave us insight not just into what people are doing now,” they say, “but how they understand those changes in hindsight.”

What is social infrastructure?

A key concept in the research is “social infrastructure”—a term that Hart-Thompson says goes beyond physical buildings to describe the places that support social interaction and community life.

“A library is a great example,” they say. “It’s a physical space but it also supports relationships, routines and access to resources. The same can be true for community centers, parks or even coffee shops. They’re physical spaces where relationships happen and routines take shape.”

The idea overlaps with what geographers and sociologists often call “third places”—spaces that are neither home (first place) nor work (second place) and that support community, connection and informal care. Third places captures both public and private spaces and reflects the full range of places people mentioned when describing how their routines changed during the pandemic.

Faith‑based organizations, in particular, played an important role for many participants, Hart-Thompson says.

“Especially with this older population we surveyed, churches provide consistent, low-cost—or no-cost—opportunities to see the same people regularly, which is incredibly important for maintaining social routines,” they say. “When concerns about disease spread or mobility made returning difficult, that loss was significant—even if services moved online.”

Aging: not a one-size-fits-all experience

The study focused on adults 55 and older, but Hart-Thompson says the researchers found that age alone did not determine how people experienced the pandemic. Instead, perception mattered just as much as chronology.

“How people felt about their age really shaped how they talked about their lives,” Hart‑Thompson explains. “Someone who felt old at 60 described their experiences very differently from someone who felt young at 80.”

Retirement status also made a major difference. Hart-Thompson explains that participants who were still working navigated different social environments than those who were retired. Health, mobility and daily obligations also influenced how much choice people felt they had in shaping their routines, they add.

Rather than finding a clear age‑based trend, Hart-Thompson says the researchers saw a mix of social and structural factors shaping each person’s experience.

Health, mobility and daily obligations also influenced how much choice people felt they had in shaping their routines during and following the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, says CU ��ý�� researcher Hayes Hart-Thompson.

Not all changes were negative

“COVID-19 reduced in‑person social interaction for many older adults—but the impact was not uniformly harmful,” Hart-Thompson says. In fact, some participants described positive or neutral changes, particularly when technology expanded access.

For individuals with limited mobility, tools like Zoom opened doors that hadn’t existed before. Others found new routines they enjoyed, such as online exercise classes or increased time for solitude.

“At the same time,” Hart‑Thompson says, “there was a lot of avoidance—people staying away from spaces because of health fears or political tensions. It really depended on the activity and the individual.”

In many cases, they say, declining health or aging‑related challenges were already influencing routines even before the pandemic. “COVID-19 just intensified those trends and brought them into sharper focus,” Hart-Thompson adds.

A specific, but meaningful, sample

The study’s participants were predominantly white, female and college educated, with many living in the Midwest. While the sample included both rural and urban residents across the United States, study participants are not representative of the population as a whole, Hart-Thompson acknowledges.

They emphasize that the research team is mindful of those limitations. Rather than treating the data as universally generalizable, the focus is on what this specific group can tell researchers, particularly as an important group of voters. That’s because, in the fifth year of the study, researchers added questions about democracy and political perceptions to explore that dimension more directly.

“There’s also a real issue of privilege in survey research,” Hart‑Thompson says. “Who has the unpaid time to respond year after year? That shapes who shows up in the data.”

Politics, isolation and policy lessons

One unexpected finding was the degree to which the study retained participants from across the political spectrum, Hart-Thompson says. Despite the politicization of COVID-19 and growing mistrust in institutions, respondents with very different views continued to participate in the research, they add

That diversity complicated the narrative. Participants disagreed sharply on whether COVID-19 was a serious health threat, but those disagreements didn’t erase shared concerns about isolation and access.

Hart‑Thompson sees a clear lesson for policymakers: Adaptability matters more than uniformity.

“There’s never going to be a one‑size‑fits‑all solution,” they say. “But universal access to social spaces—both physical and digital—is crucial. Isolation is harmful regardless of political ideology.”

Hybrid events, online access and inclusive design can help ensure people aren’t left behind during future crises—particularly those who are older or immunocompromised, Hart-Thompson adds.

Living in a new normal

Perhaps the clearest conclusion from the research is that most older adults have not returned to their pre‑pandemic routines—and many don’t expect to, Hart-Thompson says.

“There’s never going to be a one‑size‑fits‑all solution. But universal access to social spaces—both physical and digital—is crucial. Isolation is harmful regardless of political ideology.”

They say participants frequently described living in a “new normal.” Some realized they value solitude more than they once thought. Others became more intentional about spending time with close friends and family. Even when routines resembled the past, people understood that the world had changed.

“There wasn’t this expectation that things would go back to exactly how they were,” Hart‑Thompson says. “Adaptation is the reality.”

That perspective, they believe, challenges the idea that recovery means returning to a previous state. Instead, it highlights how people reshape their lives in response to long‑term change—especially later in life.

Offering support in crisis . . . and in everyday life

As the research team begins analyzing five full years of data, Hart‑Thompson is particularly interested in how overlapping crises—also known as “polycrises”—shape everyday life. That’s because COVID-19 did not happen in isolation—and neither do its effects, they add.

Across all of it, one theme remains constant: the importance of adaptable, accessible social infrastructure.

“If we center access and adaptability,” Hart‑Thompson says, “we’re better equipped to support people—not just in crises, but in everyday life.”

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Researchers from CU ��ý�� find that the pandemic reshaped how people age 55 and older interact with their communities while highlighting the importance of ‘social infrastructure.'

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Research finds many psychiatric disorders are influenced by five genetic factors

Rachel Sauer — Fri, 13 Mar 2026 21:24:35 +0000

Research finds many psychiatric disorders are influenced by five genetic factors Rachel Sauer Fri, 03/13/2026 - 15:24

Blake Puscher

Genome-wide association studies identify genetic overlap among disorders, providing evidence that their distinctions may be misleading

One major difference between psychiatric disorders and purely physical diseases is that the former are largely defined by their symptoms. Patient-reported symptoms are also closely associated with physical illnesses, but this is often accompanied by an awareness of underlying, biological causes, which can be confirmed by tests or scans.

However, because the biological causes of psychiatric disorders have not been comprehensively explained, the boundaries between them can be blurry, especially considering that many people diagnosed with one disorder will be diagnosed with others, too.

As a step toward the long-term goal of explaining these causes, a large number of scientists from across the United States and the world conducted a study published in Nature into the genetic associations of 14 disorders. This group includes first author Andrew Grotzinger, a member of both the ��ý�� Department of Psychology and Neuroscience and the CU Institute for Behavioral Genetics.

CU ��ý�� scientist Andrew Grotzinger and his research colleagues studied how certain psychiatric disorders are influenced by genetic factors.

This study involved genome-wide association studies on the different disorders, followed by an analysis of the results for signs of genetic overlap (pleiotropy). The disorders ranged from attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) to schizophrenia, and included several substance-use disorders. The study found that these disorders were influenced by five genetic factors, each of which was shared by two or more disorders.

Pleiotropy and genetic association

When multiple measurable and observable (phenotypic) traits are influenced by a gene or genetic variant, it is called pleiotropy. One example is the typical form of albinism, where a mutation of a single gene influences skin pigmentation, eye color and hair color by altering the production of melanin. The study uses the term pleiotropic loci, which refers to areas of chromosomes within which genes influencing multiple phenotypic traits can be found. In this case, those traits are different psychiatric disorders.

While evidence of pleiotropy can be seen in how some traits tend to vary together between individuals, like hair and eye color, it can only be proven by a thorough analysis of a large amount of genetic data. In this case, genome-wide association studies (GWAS) were done for each psychiatric disorder covered. A GWAS attempts to associate common genetic variants with traits by seeing if people who have the trait of interest also have a given genetic variant more often than would be expected based on chance alone.

For example, if people can have either gene A or gene B at a particular location (locus) in their DNA, a GWAS could determine if that genetic variation was associated with a given trait. If the study found that many people who did not have the trait had gene A and many people who did have the trait had gene B, it would conclude that gene B influenced the trait, even though there might be other factors contributing to it.

However, because there are so many genetic variants, and because scientists do not know which are relevant to begin with, a large number need to be studied. According to Grotzinger, this analysis happens across millions of genetic variants. A massive number of participants, both with and without the trait in question, is also necessary to have this statistical power to reliably study these associations. “What’s unique about this study is, in part, just how many people are involved, how many people we had DNA from,” Grotzinger explains.

That being said, data from some groups was more abundant. Only the European genetic ancestry group had enough data to perform analyses for all 14 psychiatric disorders. According to Grotzinger, analyses need to be performed separately by genetic ancestry group for statistical reasons, not because the genes themselves are very different but because the results may not apply equally to all people. “Initial evidence indicates that it may be more applicable for some disorders than others. So, schizophrenia is very much the same across ancestries, whereas depression is a little bit different,” he says. “The only reason we did European-like ancestry here was availability of data, and the hope would be that the next iteration of this study has greater diversity and representation.”

“Most people who are diagnosed with one psychiatric disorder are going to be diagnosed with multiple, and this has led some to theorize that there are genes that just increase your risk for everything,” says CU ��ý�� researcher Andrew Grotzinger. (Illustration: Wikimedia Commons)

Genomic factors

After analyzing the results of the different GWAS, the researchers identified five genomic factors that explained the majority of the genetic variance of the individual disorders. Some of the variance is non-genetic (for example, resulting from different life experiences), but these genetic factors explain on average around two thirds of the common genetic variation caused by people having different genes. The factors were associated with 238 pleiotropic loci.

Factor 1 was most strongly associated with compulsive disorders, factor 2 was associated with schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, factor 3 was tied to neurodevelopmental disorders, factor 4 was connected to internalizing disorders, and factor 5 explained the genetic variance in substance use disorders

“Most people who are diagnosed with one psychiatric disorder are going to be diagnosed with multiple,” Grotzinger explains, “and this has led some to theorize that there are genes that just increase your risk for everything.” But “by and large, genes increase risks for subsets of disorders, and that’s what those factors are indexing.” All five factors showed high genetic correlation; however, there was evidence for even more overlap between the disorders covered by Factor 2 and Factor 4.

Besides genetic overlap within factor groups, the study also found weaker associations between disorders from different factors groups. That is in line with the theory that there are some genes that increase the risk for many psychiatric disorders, Grotzinger says, “and it seems like there are, but those probably map onto really general pathways, like tendency to experience distress. That’s not specific to OCD versus anxiety versus depression.” This overarching factor is called the “p factor” or general psychopathology factor, and is similar in concept to the “g factor” of general intelligence. In this study, the p factor was correlated with all five factors, especially Factor 4 (internalizing disorders).

Relatedly, when researchers analyzed genetic regions instead of the whole genome, they found 101 “hotspots”—regions that demonstrated significant pleiotropy. According to Grotzinger, these genetic regions include a larger group of genes than loci. “You can think of them as operating at a more local level, as opposed to the genome-wide level that examines the average percentage of genetic signal shared across the whole genome,” Grotzinger explains. The most pleiotropic region was on chromosome 11. Genes in this hotspot influence most of the psychiatric disorders, excluding all Factor 1 disorders, opioid- and nicotine-use disorder and autism.

Andrew Grotzinger and his research colleagues identified five genomic factors that explain the majority of the genetic variance of the 14 psychiatric disorders they studied.

Factor 1: most strongly associated with compulsive disorders (anorexia, OCD and Tourette’s), but also anxiety to a lesser extent
Factor 2: associated with both schizophrenia and bipolar disorder
Factor 3: tied to autism and ADHD, as well as more loosely to Tourette’s
Factor 4: connected to internalizing disorders such as PTSD, depression and anxiety.
Factor 5: explains the genetic variance in substance-use disorders, specifically for nicotine, alcohol, cannabis and opioids.

Although these analyses close in on some of the genetic causes for psychiatric disorders, this knowledge cannot be used to diagnose or treat those disorders. This is because the disorders are influenced by thousands of genes, and scientists still do not know which specific genes are relevant, just the area of the genome they are in. “This chromosome 11 hotspot is a really interesting data point, but it is not going to help diagnose anyone,” Grotzinger says. “It is one piece of a 10,000-piece puzzle, at the end of the day. It’s baby steps.”

Diagnostic boundaries

“One thing people say is that our DNA does not read our diagnostic manual,” Grotzinger says. “Our DNA seems to confer risk in a way that transcends the boundaries that we describe in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual.” In other words, psychiatric disorders are currently defined based on the way that symptoms tend to occur together rather than their biological or genetic causes. Of course, psychiatric disorders have non-genetic causes, but knowing what genes contribute to each disorder would help diagnose and treat them more effectively.

For example, “if you are someone who is diagnosed with multiple disorders,” Grotzinger says, “they may be more biologically similar than they are distinct. I think that increases the optimism for treatment, because you know that you are not dealing with four separate things. I do not think this is sufficient to argue for changing the diagnostic manual,” he continues, “but it is still a very important piece of evidence for considering whether or not to reconceptualize some of these disorders.

Depression and anxiety in particular are an example of disorders that are often diagnosed together, treated using similar methods (e.g., selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors), and appear nearly identical from a genetic perspective, according to Grotzinger. “It begs the question of whether or not we are calling something that is very similar different names. The metaphor I offer with this study is that, if you had a runny nose, a cough, and a sore throat, it would not be appropriate to go to the doctor and get a diagnosis for runny nose disorder, coughing disorder, and sore throat disorder.”

One implication of this, and a potential topic for future research, is that there are subtypes of disorders. While many of the disorders covered by this study overlap with each other, they do not all overlap completely with themselves. What is classified as depression, for example, may have different genetic causes in some cases. “You can have over 10,000 different symptom combinations, all of which meet the criteria for depression,” Grotzinger says. “So one question is, are there subtypes of disorders?” If enough research does support the reclassification of psychiatric disorders, this could involve both merging and splitting current disorders to most accurately reflect the underlying genetic risk factors.

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Genome-wide association studies identify genetic overlap among disorders, providing evidence that their distinctions may be misleading.

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Grant supports natural sciences research

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 10 Mar 2026 17:56:01 +0000

Grant supports natural sciences research Rachel Sauer Tue, 03/10/2026 - 11:56

CU ��ý�� receives $1.5 million from Gordon and Betty Moore Foundation to fund postdoctoral researchers

The ��ý�� has received $1.5 million to provide funding for postdoctoral researchers in the Division of Natural Sciences—part of $55 million in funding provided to 30 U.S. universities by the Gordon and Betty Moore Foundation.

"We are grateful for the generosity of the Gordon and Betty Moore Foundation and its significant support of the groundbreaking research happening at CU ��ý��,” says Irene Blair, dean of the Division of Natural Sciences. “Despite the current uncertainties that we and universities across the country are experiencing, our scientists remain committed to finding innovative answers to the most pressing questions and issues we are facing today. By supporting post-doctoral research, this grant will advance fundamental research in the natural sciences."

The Moore Foundation provided this one-time support to maintain the pipeline of scientists in training. After consulting with leading scientists and university leaders, the foundation said it identified an especially critical, immediate shortfall at the postdoctoral training level.

“Universities are experiencing budget cuts which are drastically curtailing funding for postdocs,” said Aileen Lee, president of the Moore Foundation. “Though critical to the scientific enterprise, postdoctoral trainees are typically less readily supported by university friends and alumni than are graduate and undergraduate students.”

CU ��ý�� was one of 30 universities that received past support from the Moore Foundation Science Program. Awards for this latest round of funding ranged from $1 million to $2.5 million per university, based upon historical levels of funding from the foundation.

“As funding for science becomes increasingly constrained, philanthropy plays a crucial role in fueling innovation and discovery,” Lee said. “We invest where science can make long-term, measurable change and in the talented people whose ideas will shape the future.”

The funding from the Moore Foundation assists 400 postdoctoral researchers across 25 fields.

For CU ��ý��, departments receiving funding include chemistry, biochemistry, ecology and evolutionary biology, environmental studies, geological sciences, integrative physiology, physics, psychology and neuroscience, atmospheric and oceanic sciences, astrophysical and planetary sciences, and applied mathematics.

Although the Moore Foundation’s science program funding is typically tightly focused on a small number of long-term research priorities, in this case, the foundation provided the funding to support postdoctoral researchers. The awards were made in late 2025 and the universities have the latitude to spend the funds across three academic years (2025-2028).

Established in 2000 by Intel co-founder Gordon Moore and his wife, Betty, the Moore Foundation supports scientific discovery, environmental conservation and the preservation of the character of the San Francisco Bay area. The Moore Foundation has provided $2.46 billion in cumulative grants for scientific discovery thus far.

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CU ��ý�� receives $1.5 million from Gordon and Betty Moore Foundation to fund postdoctoral researchers.

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Art historian walks into the Middle Ages

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 25 Feb 2026 22:27:17 +0000

Art historian walks into the Middle Ages Rachel Sauer Wed, 02/25/2026 - 15:27

Clint Talbott

CU ��ý�� Professor Kirk Ambrose set out to better understand art, doubt and medieval pilgrimages, but his 800-mile walk has modern implications

At some point during his trek, Kirk Ambrose felt that walking was “too fast.” Days stretched and the small loomed large. He and his wife would stop to admire a spider, then just talk about it.

“It really did change my perceptions,” he says. And that was kind of the point.

Kirk Ambrose (right), a CU ��ý�� professor of classics, walked nearly 800 miles along medieval pilgrimage routes, joined for part of the journey by his wife, Kim Dickey, a professor of art and art history. (Photo: Kirk Ambrose)

Last summer, Ambrose, a professor of classics at the ��ý��, walked nearly 800 miles along medieval pilgrimage routes—much of it on the Via Jacobi, the Way of St. James, which threads through France toward Santiago de Compostela in Spain. His wife, Kim Dickey, who is a CU ��ý�� professor of ceramics, joined him for part of the walk.

Ambrose trained for the trek, but the goal was not athletic. It was scholarly. The long walk served as research for a book he’s writing about art and doubt in the 11th and 12th centuries.

“I wanted to get a sense of, as much as is possible in the modern day, what these experiences were like,” he says. “Pilgrimage has been a framework for understanding medieval art—especially the 12th century—and I wanted to probe that from the ground.”

He approached the journey with “a healthy dose of skepticism.” The romantic picture of pilgrims dutifully trudging from shrine to shrine, he argues, owes much to early 20th‑century American portrayals of pilgrimages.

Ambrose cites Arthur Kingsley Porter, a wealthy American scholar who toured Europe by chauffeured Rolls‑Royce and helped popularize the idea of being on the road as a way to understand the spread of medieval art. Porter’s writings reflected a privileged and American way of moving through the world, Ambrose suggests, adding that Porter’s perspectives differed from those of most Europeans.

The road and its surroundings

The walk itself focused Ambrose’s attention on the social fabric that makes pilgrimages possible. “What interested me, perhaps more than the pilgrim, was the whole support network,” he said. He met volunteers who cleaned bathrooms and retirees who opened bedrooms—chambres d’hôtes—and cooked dinner for strangers.

Many of these workers had left urban careers after the pandemic, moved by a desire to be close to a journey even if they could not make one themselves. “Again and again, I heard a version of the same idea: ‘I travel through the people I encounter, even though I’m staying in the same spot.’”

The observation seemed timeless. Medieval monks, often prohibited from physical travel, were encouraged to undertake “spiritual pilgrimages”—imagined journeys toward the divine. The modern hosts Ambrose met felt like their analogues, he said.

Ambrose trained for a year—backpack full of books—before setting out; he finished the walk in just over two months without a blister. But the physical feat was secondary.

One observation about pilgrimages, he says, is “how much time you are not in churches.” Most days were focused on ferns, salamanders, hunger and the logistics of the next bed. Sacred sites punctuated but did not define the experience.

Scholarship in motion

Kirk Ambrose's journey took him along Lake Lucerne in Switzerland. (Photo: Kirk Ambrose)

Some scholars have argued that artistic styles spread via pilgrim highways. Ambrose suggests otherwise.

“There’s an increasing body of scholarship that challenges the idea that artists simply ‘followed’ pilgrims,” he says. “Institutional affiliation and alliances often explain transmission better—monasteries, chapters, reform movements—networks that stretch across regions through personal relationships, not roads.”

The variety he encountered along the way—the “dizzying” mix of styles and architectural solutions—underscored that point.

He offers a contemporary analogy: Rather than assuming ideas spread evenly across a state, think of a university department with deep ties to a lab in the Netherlands—ideas may travel faster via that friendship than along any map. The medieval equivalents—papal circles, Cluniac reform, houses of canons—made and remade aesthetic choices at large scale and across geography.

Ambrose also questions the notion of the Middle Ages as just an “Age of Faith.”

“I’m trying to complicate the emotional landscape,” he says. “Doubt is a primary motivator.” In the 12th century, commentaries on the Book of Job—which wrestles with faith and doubt—were among the most copied texts.

Ambrose notes that art from this period confronts doubt, raising questions such as: Which relic is genuine? Is the Eucharist literally the body of Christ or a symbol? What do I treat as true when I’m surrounded by competing claims?

Even images of damnation—liars punished, tongues ripped out—suggest a culture trying to distinguish fact from fiction. Today, humans face similar questions, he observes.

Ambrose speaks with delight about the people he met on the walk. “There’s a saying on the route that the kingdom of pilgrimage is 2,000 miles long and 5 feet wide,” he says. On that path, one might find an octogenarian walking from Budapest to Santiago—eight or nine months out and back—or a group of students between semesters, or a CEO on sabbatical. Most of the walkers he met weren’t religious.

He says the experience evoked what cultural anthropologist Victor Turner called the liminal experience—a phase between two stages of life, states of being or locations. “I met people from 18 to their 70s. We were all pilgrims together, regardless of motivation.”

Scenes from a (very long) walk

St.-Privat-d’Allier in France.

A fire salamander on the trail near Espalion, France.

The rooftops of Ste.-Foy, Conques in France.

Lungerersee in Switzerland.

View of Fribourg, Switzerland.

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CU ��ý�� Professor Kirk Ambrose set out to better understand art, doubt and medieval pilgrimages, but his 800-mile walk has modern implications.

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Top photo: Kirk Ambrose on the trail. (All photos courtesy Kirk Ambrose)

Scholar considers language, identity and the fight over shared symbols

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 16 Feb 2026 17:42:36 +0000

Scholar considers language, identity and the fight over shared symbols Rachel Sauer Mon, 02/16/2026 - 10:42

Cody DeBos

CU ��ý�� linguistics researcher Kate Arnold-Murray studies what a Facebook fight reveals about identity

In 2019, Washington, D.C.’s Pride celebrations became a flashpoint—but not just for the usual political tensions. Organizers of the annual Dyke March barred participants from carrying the Jewish Pride flag, sparking a wider debate about symbols and the meanings they carry.

Organizers claimed the flag too closely resembled the Israeli flag and could be insensitive to pro-Palestinian participants. Jewish LGBTQ+ activists, many of whom had marched in the event for years, were stunned.

“I was actually living in Washington, D.C., at the time,” says Kate Arnold-Murray, a PhD candidate in the Department of Linguistics at the ��ý��. “I was out of town at the time, so I was looking at things involving the march on Facebook and saw all these arguments going on. I wanted to get to the root of what people were upset about—what people who presumably should be on the same page were arguing about.”

CU ��ý�� scholar Kate Arnold-Murray has studied how the six-pointed Star of David became the center of conflict in a space that promotes solidarity.

What began as curiosity while browsing turned into years of research for Arnold-Murray, culminating in her recent publication in the Journal of Linguistic Anthropology.

Her study looks at how a single symbol—the six-pointed Star of David—became the center of conflict in a space that promotes solidarity.

Bridging language and politics

In her doctoral work at CU ��ý��, Arnold-Murray focuses on how language produces and reflects political identity in America.

“Most of my work involves language and politics on the left in the United States. This piece ties into that work because these are presumably mostly political actors on the left in arguments with each other,” she says.

In her paper, Arnold-Murray examines a trove of public Facebook comments from individuals and organizations reacting to the 2019 Dyke March decision.

“As a member of both the Washington, D.C., queer community and the Washington, D.C., Jewish community, it was like my two sides were fighting, and I wanted to understand why,” she says.

The problem of misrecognition

The controversy centered on the Jewish Pride flag: a rainbow background with a white Star of David in the middle. For some, the star was a proud symbol of Jewish identity that dates back thousands of years. For others, it was too reminiscent of the Israeli flag—and thus a political statement they opposed.

To understand the disagreement, Arnold-Murray turned to the concept of indexicality, or the connection between a sign and its social meaning.

“Indexical misrecognition is accounting for the possibility that we might have misunderstandings based on our lived experiences shaping how we interpret signs like a symbol or word,” she explains.

In other words, what one person sees as an expression of faith or cultural belonging, another may see as a symbol of state violence or exclusion.

“In this instance, each group came with a different notion of what the Star of David means based on their lived experiences—and that’s where we get that misrecognition.”

Arnold-Murray’s paper takes it further. She argues that not only do symbols connect with personal and cultural identities, but they can lead to conflict because their meanings are not fixed. That’s especially true when it comes to symbols like the Star of David, whose associations stretch across religion, nationalism, ethnicity and more.

“If we can find ways to stop arguing about symbols and come together a little more, we can have more political unity. But that has to start with listening to the voices of marginalized individuals and understanding that the signs we use might carry multiple meanings,” says CU ��ý�� linguistics scholar Kate Arnold-Murray. (Photo: Tom Morris/Wikimedia Commons)

“Another example is the phrase ‘Are you a friend of Dorothy?’ which has been used within the queer community to indicate that someone is queer. But to someone who is not queer, they might not share that same meaning and they might say, ‘Dorothy who?’” Arnold-Murray says.

One flag, many meanings

Arnold-Murray also uses the term bricolage to describe the Jewish Pride flag. In the art world, bricolage refers to a construction created from layers of different materials.

“Here, we have the Jewish Pride flag as a construction of bricolage, where there are the meaningful horizontal rainbow stripes of the queer pride flag and then the white Star of David, which can indicate Judaism or potentially Israel, depending on one’s reading,” she says.

The ambiguity of meaning in signs consisting of multiple parts is what often leads to misrecognition. Since the Jewish Pride flag combines two strong identity symbols, any interpretation is bound to stir deep emotions, Arnold-Murray explains.

“It’s when we have these signs that are so tied up with our identity and who we are that we get these big conflicts among, presumably, a queer community where a lot of people agree on political issues overall.”

For many Jewish participants in the 2019 Dyke March, banning the flag was more than a debate over a symbol.

“A lot of the commenters who were against the ban of the Jewish pride flag were claiming that the ban was anti-Semitic and against them as Jews and that they felt excluded from the march,” Arnold-Murray says.

For organizers, allowing the flag could have been seen as endorsing a political stance they didn’t share. It was a lose-lose situation made worse by how personal it felt for everyone involved.

What’s at stake

Arnold-Murray is careful to warn that there isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution to symbolic conflict. But she does suggest that understanding how symbols work, and why layered meanings can spark conflict, can lead to more empathetic conversations.

“I think the stakes are huge. When we have these signs that are tied to identity, it can feel like a personal attack to be contesting what they mean,” she says.

“If we can find ways to stop arguing about symbols and come together a little more, we can have more political unity,” she adds. “But that has to start with listening to the voices of marginalized individuals and understanding that the signs we use might carry multiple meanings.”

In a political landscape increasingly fractured by culture wars and identity debates, that goal may feel out of reach. But for Arnold-Murray, it all comes back to understanding.

“Meaning isn’t fixed. When it comes to situations like this, what’s really important is listening, being willing to apologize, and being willing to move forward while being as inclusive as possible,” she says. “Understanding that meanings come from lived experiences is a good starting point.”

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CU ��ý�� linguistics researcher Kate Arnold-Murray studies what a Facebook fight reveals about identity.

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Top photo: Ted Eytan/Wikimedia Commons

One safety step sparks another

Rachel Sauer — Tue, 10 Feb 2026 22:15:23 +0000

One safety step sparks another Rachel Sauer Tue, 02/10/2026 - 15:15

Bradley Worrell

Research from CU ��ý�� environmental economist Grant Webster finds that wildfire risk mitigation and proactive evacuation preparation are complementary

The 2025 Los Angeles fires, the 2023 Lahaina Fire in Hawaii and the 2018 Camp Fire in northern California were rapid-moving wildfires that resulted in 196 combined fatalities, tens of thousands of displaced residents and billions of dollars in property damage.

Emergency preparedness experts have long recognized that wildfire risk mitigation and proactive evacuation efforts can both play important roles in lessening the risk of danger to people and property. And yet, previous research focused on those two efforts independently of one another, says Grant Webster, an environmental economist and postdoctoral research associate with the Institute of Behavioral Science at the ��ý��.

Seeking to bridge that gap, Webster and his fellow researchers at the U.S. Forest Service and U.S. Geological Survey analyzed household survey data from the Wildfire Research Center (WiRē) collected in 25 wildland-urban interface (WUI) communities across five Western states, specifically examining both mitigation and preparedness measures.

Grant Webster, a postdoctoral research associate with the Institute of Behavioral Science and CU ��ý�� PhD graduate in economics, and his research colleagues find that wildfire risk mitigation and proactive evacuation preparation are complementary.

“Our interest was looking at whether there’s a relationship between them. Is there a trade-off, like some people deciding, ‘I’m really prepared to evacuate but I’m not going to mitigate my home,’ or vice versa?” he says.

After evaluating their findings, Webster and his co-authors determined that those two strategies are not competing priorities but instead are mutually reinforcing behaviors. They explain their conclusion in a recently published paper in Ecological Economics,

“When people think about their risk and take action in one area, they are more likely to take action in the other,” he explains. “There’s a spillover between the two.”

Webster says this means that a homeowner who takes proactive mitigation measures—such as trimming the vegetation around their home, clearing the area of combustibles (such as chopped wood) and upgrading building materials to make their home more fire resistant—are statistically more likely to plan safe evacuation routes, prepare “to-go” bags, identify where the household will evacuate to and talk with neighbors about evacuation strategies.

The finding also holds in reverse: Households that take no action in one area often take no action in the other.

“That’s the troubling part,” Webster says. “People living in the riskiest properties are often the least prepared to evacuate.”

Why would a household neither mitigate nor prepare to evacuate?

Webster says his study controls for factors such as income, risk perception and information sources. None of these fully explains the gap.

“It’s likely something unobserved, potentially simply not thinking about wildfire risk,” he says. “If people aren’t engaged with the issue—if they haven’t talked with neighbors or professionals, or if they haven’t experienced a fire—they’re less likely to do either mitigation or evacuation planning.”

Experience is a powerful motivator

The study also examined which households were most likely to have evacuation plans in place. Webster says three patterns emerged. First, people who have evacuated before—or who have lived through a close call—are significantly more likely to prepare. Second, households that understand their vulnerability tend to be more proactive. And third, conversations with neighbors or wildlife professionals can prompt homeowners to act.

“Talking with others gets people thinking,” Webster says. Whether it’s a community meeting or a casual conversation about defensible space, social interaction increases preparedness, he adds.

Interestingly, income was not associated with evacuation planning. Webster says the research found wealthier households were no more likely to have evacuation plans than middle class or lower-income households.

While the study found that all mitigation actions correlate with evacuation preparedness, Webster says a few stood out more strongly: clearing vegetation, replacing combustible siding and addressing attached combustibles, such as wooden decks.

CU ��ý�� researcher Grant Webster found that income is not associated with wildfire evacuation planning; wealthier households are no more likely to have evacuation plans than middle class or lower-income households. (Photo of 2023 Lahaina Fire: Wikimedia Commons)

Still, he cautions against viewing any single action as the “gateway” to preparedness.

“It’s not that there’s one magic measure that will make someone start planning,” he says. “It’s the overall process of thinking about risk and engaging with mitigation that appears to encourage evacuation preparedness.”

So, does that mean mitigation always naturally leads to evacuation preparedness, or does the evacuation preparedness sometimes lead to mitigation efforts? Webster says the question is a bit like the one posed as to which comes first: the chicken or the egg?

“In the paper, with our data, we look only at the direction of mitigation leading to evacuation preparedness. We can’t say anything causal the other way. Hazard literature suggests mitigation usually comes before preparedness, but in practice it could go either way,” he says. “We’re not saying it always does; we just estimate the causal effect in that direction.”

It’s also difficult to interpret from the study how large an impact risk mitigation has on evacuation preparedness for households, Webster says.

“For example, the results suggest that if a household were to change the distance to close vegetation around their home from 5 to 30 feet to over 100 feet, this would result in a household completing one more evacuation preparation action,” he says. “Although certain mitigation and evacuation actions require different levels of effort, making it difficult to quantify a typical effect.”

Implications for authorities and community organizations

Because the study reveals strong spillover effects, Webster says it offers validation for wildfire programs that address mitigation and evacuation together.

“There are teams out there talking to residents about both defensible space and evacuation plans,” he says. “Our findings show that is a good approach.”

Equally important, Webster says, is that even programs that focus on just one area—such as mitigation—are not crowding out the other.

“If you’re spending resources talking about evacuation preparedness, you’re not making people less likely to mitigate,” he explains. “And if you’re talking about mitigation, you’re not reducing the likelihood that they’ll plan for evacuation. People can—and do—take both actions.”

Webster emphasizes that the paper is written primarily for practitioners—fire departments, emergency managers and local governments—that need evidence-based guidance when designing public education programs. Webster’s research is designed to give those practitioners a road map to:

Pair mitigation messaging with evacuation preparedness, as they reinforce each other and improve overall community resilience.
Target outreach to households with no experience or engagement, as they are the most likely to be unprepared in both areas.
Encourage neighbor-to-neighbor conversations, as social networks are powerful tools for spreading risk awareness.
Recognize that income is not a predictor. Preparedness campaigns should include all demographics equally.

“Once we collect and aggregate the data and provide it to the practitioners—those people working on the ground—they can better inform their programs and their policies to deal with the risks in their specific community,” he says. For many at-risk communities, especially rural ones, budgets and personnel are limited, so practical advice that can be easily shared is especially valuable, he adds.

More fires, more need for research

For Webster, this research is particularly timely.

“It’s not that there’s one magic measure that will make someone start planning. It’s the overall process of thinking about risk and engaging with mitigation that appears to encourage evacuation preparedness.”

“Wildfire risk is definitely increasing throughout the country and around the world, due to a variety of factors, including climate change,” he says. “With these fast-moving fires, like in California, it’s really important for people to be ready to evacuate quickly and also to mitigate their home so it’s less likely to be destroyed.”

In addition to the danger of increasing temperatures associated with climate change, Webster says there are two other primary wildfire risk factors: the historical suppression of fires, which has resulted in an accumulation of fuels at risk of catching fire, and the expansion of communities into fire-prone areas, putting more people and properties at risk.

Meanwhile, Webster says he sees the potential for scholars to produce more research on this topic as new data becomes available.

“Our dataset is always growing,” he says. “That allows us to replicate earlier studies on a larger scale and understand the changing dynamics of preparedness.”

He says further research may explore how specific education strategies influence behavior, or how emerging technologies (such as real-time risk maps or AI-driven alerts) shape community responses.

For now, Webster says one message is clear: Proactive steps matter—and households that take action in one area are likely to take action in another. As Webster puts it, “Improving engagement—getting people to think about their wildfire risk—is one of the most powerful tools we have.”

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Research from CU ��ý�� environmental economist Grant Webster finds that wildfire risk mitigation and proactive evacuation preparation are complementary.

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Top image: U.S. Forest Service

Researchers learn new lessons from old butterflies

Rachel Sauer — Fri, 06 Feb 2026 18:00:00 +0000

Researchers learn new lessons from old butterflies Rachel Sauer Fri, 02/06/2026 - 11:00

Alexandra Phelps

Research co-authored by CU ��ý�� PhD graduate Megan E. Zabinski and evolutionary biology Professor M. Deane Bowers reveals how museum butterfly specimens, some almost a century old, can still offer insight into chemical defense of insects and plants

You’re sitting in a field, a garden or another outdoor space, basking in a beautiful summer day. Clouds drift across the sky when something catches your eye. You turn to see a butterfly, its delicate wings and vibrant coloring shifting as it moves from flower to flower. For a moment it’s there, but soon, it moves too far away for you to see.

At first glance, butterflies appear to be just simple, dainty creatures that fly around feeding on plants. For ��ý�� PhD graduate Megan E. Zabinski and evolutionary biology Professor M. Deane Bowers, however, butterflies are anything but simple. Beneath their wings lies a complex system that plays an integral role in their survival.

In recently published research, CU ��ý�� PhD graduate Megan E. Zabinski (left) and evolutionary biology Professor M. Deane Bowers (right), emphasize the value that museum specimens have in current scientific research.

In a recently published study in the Journal of Chemical Ecology, Zabinski and Bowers researched how two Euphydrays butterfly species—E. phaeton and E. anicia—sequester certain chemical compounds, a process by which organisms capture and store substances from their host plants to defend themselves against their enemies. The researchers found that they were able to understand how these butterflies sequester substances using both historic specimens as well as fresh ones.

Their project points to the value museum specimens can have in scientific research. By comparing historic butterfly specimens from CU ��ý��’s Museum of Natural History (CUMNH) with freshly collected and laboratory-reared butterflies, their research demonstrates the benefits, as well as the limitations, of using preserved insects to study chemical defenses decades after collection.

Hatching a plan

Although museum collections house billions of specimens, only a small fraction are used in research after they are acquired. Recognizing this gap inspired Zabinski to begin her research. While Zabinski was still a graduate student, an encounter with Bowers helped shape the trajectory of her academic career.

“Deane came up to me one day—I was in the EBIO club—and she told me she had a job for me. And I thought, ‘A job! You mean I can quit waiting tables at Applebee’s?’”

This opportunity allowed Zabinski to explore her interest in insects and plant-insect interactions within a laboratory setting.

“I absolutely loved being in the lab, doing the physical work with my hands, (whether it was) being able to be outside in the field or looking after the plants,” she says.

Working alongside Bowers—whose research also focuses on how insects interact with their environments—Zabinski began developing her own research questions. She specifically focused on how butterflies in different developmental stages consume and store defensive chemicals to use them later.

Zabinski became interested in whether museum butterfly specimens—which have rarely been investigated and examined for their chemical defenses—could still be helpful.

“We thought about how detecting sequestered defenses in museum specimens really has rarely been done,” she says. “The world of sequestration hadn’t really delved into museum collections. So, we were curious if there was utility there.”

The project was made possible in part by Bowers’ extensive research background and personal butterfly collection, which is housed at CUMNH. The collection includes the species used in the study. When combined with outside specimens, this collection, which includes the species used in the study, allowed Bowers and Zabinski to enrich their understanding of the butterflies.

The Euphydryas anicia butterfly is able to sequester compounds that plants create in defense against herbivores. (Photo: Robert Webster/Wikimedia Commons)

“There has been work done on detecting chemical compounds in plants,” Bowers says. “But there had been less done on insects, and Megan’s thesis had centered on looking at how this particular group of compounds in my lab has worked on particular compounds. We thought it would be really interesting to see if we could find them in old specimens.”

For Zabinski, the combination of Bowers’ expertise and insects available for research made this experiment uniquely valuable.

“It’s kind of the perfect storm for a good experiment. You have a colony in the lab; you also know where there is a field lab where you can get fresh specimens. You know that the museum also has them, but one of the species we had sequestered a high amount, so we thought that … even if there was some degradation, we would still be able to detect them,” she says.

Crawling toward a new understanding

Zabinski and Bowers analyzed specimens from two checkerspot butterfly species in the genus Euphydryas: Euphydryas anicia and Euphydryas phaeton. The species were selected because they are known for their high sequestration ability, abundance in the CUMNH entomology collection and the ease of obtaining live adult specimens. Their research aimed to better understand how the insects use and store these compounds after consuming them as larvae.

Both species sequester iridoid glycosides (IGs), which Zabinski explains are “compounds created by the plants in defense against the herbivores. They’re trying not to get eaten, but there are certain insects— including these butterflies—that capitalize off this process.” Bowers adds, “I’ve tasted (iridoid glycosides), and they’re really bitter. So they are a really good defense against predators and diseases.”

“They’ve been able to find a way to store these compounds in their own bodies and then they can confer some defense against predators,” Zabinski says.

In an initial pilot experiment, the researchers chemically extracted from only one set of wings—a forewing and a hindwing—from historic specimens to determine whether IGs could be detected from the wings alone. Previous experiments have determined that, because in butterfly wings there’s hemolymph (a circulatory fluid similar to blood), it’s possible to detect IGs there. Unfortunately, the results showed extremely low concentrations. To obtain detectable amounts, they found it necessary to analyze both the body and a pair of wings together. For documentation and future research, the set of right wings from each specimen was removed and preserved.

With their methodology established, they chose six E. phaeton specimens from the CUMNH that had been collected from 1936–1977. For comparison, E. phaeton larvae were collected from Burlington County, Vermont, brought back to ��ý�� and raised in the laboratory with their host plant, white turtlehead, Chelone glabra. Once the butterflies reached adulthood, they were freeze-killed and analyzed for their IG content.

Zabinski and Bowers also examined nine historic E. anicia specimens collected between 1933–1998. Fresh adult E. anicia were collected from Crescent Meadows in Eldorado Springs, Colorado, freeze-killed and immediately underwent extraction for chemical analysis. Although it’s almost impossible to tell what plant the freshly caught butterflies consumed as larvae, the field they were collected from is known to have four catalpol-containing host plants. Catalpol, an IG that is found in these plants, allowed the researchers to determine whether the butterflies were sequestering these compounds, even if they weren’t sure what specific plant was the butterflies’ food source.

“Raising butterflies is not easy,” Zabinski says. “Plants can’t just be alive and available—they have to be high quality, because it’s been shown in studies with these plants that if the plant is not happy, it will not allocate energy to create those compounds. Then your caterpillars are not going to want to eat it.”

Shifting predetermined perceptions

Despite being preserved for decades, the historic specimens still contained detectable traces of sequestered chemical defenses. While IG concentrations were significantly lower in museum specimens than in freshly collected butterflies, Zabinski’s results demonstrate that even after nearly a century, chemical traces of larval diets can still be detected in preserved specimens.

Euphydryas phaeton butterflies have "been able to find a way to store (plant defense) compounds in their own bodies and then they can confer some defense against predators,” says researcher Megan E. Zabinski. (Photo: Joshua Mayer/Wikimedia Commons)

By focusing on the detectability of chemical compounds in older specimens, Zabinski’s work contributes to a broader discussion about preservation methods. She notes that museums often have little control over how donated specimens were originally collected or preserved. She says that despite this, “If you’re a collections manager and you have a researcher that conducted a research experiment and would like to donate them to your collection, if you have the capacity to access them, you’re probably not going to say ‘no.’”

Zabinski explains that previous research demonstrating how preservation methods affect scientists’ ability to detect DNA in museum specimens really shifted how people preserve certain organisms.

“Most insects are preserved as dried specimens, although some are preserved in alcohol,” she says. “In other groups of organisms, like vertebrates and other invertebrates besides insects, they’re often preserved in alcohol or formaldehyde. We now know that using formaldehyde destroys DNA, and so I think the protocol for specimen preservation has changed, trying to preserve the DNA. That’s been one change that museums have been trying.”

Zabinski’s project and others like it are creating an incentive. “As more research comes out about the extended museum specimen and the utility of specimens—particularly with standardization—museums will find a draw to create some uniformity,” she says.

Soaring to new heights

On that summer day, someone who was watching the butterflies move was Bowers.

“I started collecting insects when I was a little kid,” she says. “In undergrad, I did some independent research on butterflies, [and later,] in graduate school, I had a really supportive advisor who told me to spend my first summer going out and looking at butterflies and seeing if I could find some interesting questions. That’s been the focus of my research since.”

Recognizing Zabinski’s curiosity and potential, Bowers recalls, “I brought Megan into the fold.”

“We hear a lot about climate change and we don’t really hear about these smaller interactions that are quite literally under our feet every day,” Zabinski reflects. She says this paper offers one example of how museum specimens are not just remnants of the past, but tools that can be used to better understand specimens today. As technology advances and more research is conducted into chemical defenses, Zabinski says museum specimens can prove to be even more valuable in understanding how organisms interact with their environments long after they’ve been collected.

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Top image: Euphydryas anicia butterfly (Photo: U.S. Fish and Wildlife)

What’s that knocking in the trees?

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 04 Feb 2026 21:44:37 +0000

What’s that knocking in the trees? Rachel Sauer Wed, 02/04/2026 - 14:44

Kayleigh Wood

In new book, CU ��ý�� folklorist Jack Daly bridges the gap between academic research and Colorado legend

It was well into the evening when Jack Daly and a small group of legend trippers, organized by the Sasquatch Outpost in Bailey, Colorado, made their descent into the forests just 30 minutes outside of town. Owned and operated by Jim and Daphne Myers, the site hosts numerous Bigfoot events, from meetings to night hikes led by Bigfoot researcher Jim Myers himself.

During these hikes, which occur about once a month, Myers serves as the outpost’s liaison into what the Sasquatch Outpost’s booking website describes as “the realm of the Forest People.” Here, visitors might experience numerous encounters with Bigfoot in the form of vocalizations, footprints, knocking on trees and airborne rocks thrown in the direction of the group.

Folklorist Jack Daly, an instructor in the CU ��ý�� Program for Writing and Rhetoric, explores the supernatural, unexplainable and unnerving in his book Eerie Colorado: Mountain Folklore, Monsters and Tales of the Supernatural.

On that particular hike, deep in the forest, Daly and the group were startled—not by flying rocks or breaking branches, but by what he describes as “a giant silver orb just flying overhead, and we all saw it. We stopped, and it disappeared. There’s no flashing lights. It was not in, like, full orbit.”

This UFO encounter was notably different from the one he experienced in high school, when he and a friend witnessed a glowing blue orb hovering above a meadow, moving from one place to another at random intervals, for several minutes.

Daly shares this experience and more in his recently published book, Eerie Colorado: Mountain Folklore, Monsters and Tales of the Supernatural. Thursday evening, Daly will host an event at the ��ý�� Bookstore, where attendees will have the opportunity to learn more about Colorado’s supernatural folklore through the eyes of an expert.

Eerie Colorado

Jack Daly will speak about and sign his new book, Eerie Colorado: Mountain Folklore, Monsters and Tales of the Supernatural.

Where: ��ý�� Bookstore, 1107 Pearl St.

When: 6:30 p.m. Thursday, Feb. 5.

Learn more

In his book, Daly, a lecturer in the ��ý�� Program for Writing and Rhetoric, explores all things supernatural, unexplainable and unnerving in the Centennial State. Beyond simply organizing these legends in one volume, Daly grapples with the role supernatural folklore plays in the historical and contemporary culture of Colorado. Enmeshing his own personal testimony and the testimonies of the individuals he interviewed on his own with existing scholarly research, he divides his findings into two categories: the corporeal, which he describes in his book as creatures of “‘flesh-and-blood,’” and the incorporeal, referring to the entities that lack physical bodies.

Daly used ethnographic methods in his research, conducting interviews and documenting participant observation, a qualitative research method in which scholars immerse themselves in a setting and attempt to observe as many individuals as possible to draw conclusions about a specific culture. He uses the term “memorate” to classify the personal experience narratives throughout the book, including some of his own, as well as the experiences of his family members. Jim Myers of the Sasquatch Outpost shared a personal Bigfoot encounter for the book—a sighting that Myers dubbed as a Class A experience, which is an encounter at close range, where the viewer can confidently rule out all natural explanations.

Monsters, legends and the supernatural

Beyond the memorates, Daly’s fieldwork has taken him to as many of the sites featured in the book as possible for his research.

As a folklorist, Daly’s research focuses on monsters, legends and the supernatural. In 2023, he received the American Folklore Society’s Warren E. Roberts Prize in Folk Art and Material Culture for his piece “Devil in the Skies, Stars on the Barns: The Snallygaster, Hex Signs, and Barn Stars.” He earned a master’s degree in folklore and is currently pursuing a PhD in American studies at Pennsylvania State University, where he was a recipient of the 2022-23 University Graduate Fellowship.

In his book Eerie Colorado, author Jack Daly grapples with the role supernatural folklore plays in the historical and contemporary culture of Colorado.

Daly explains that his research champions scholarship while validating personal experience, noting that “people’s experiences with the supernatural are much more common than we give them credit for.” As a folklorist and scholar of belief, he says, he takes an “ethnographic, folkloristic [and] anthropological approach,” striving to avoid approaching all things eerie and inconceivable from “a position of disbelief in regards to the supernatural,” which he refers to in Eerie Colorado as a believer-skeptic binary.

In the book’s introduction, Daly makes clear that he is unconcerned with the reality of monsters, unexplainable phenomena and supernatural beings. He approaches his research from a place of neither belief nor disbelief, but with the aim of analyzing how these stories, which trend across time and place, function on a cultural and personal level.

Daly’s UFO encounter in the hills outside Bailey, which occurred only a couple of months ago, reinforces why his research approach for Eerie Colorado is helpful. Quite often, accounts of strange phenomena come from individuals who are skeptical themselves. Daly and the group simultaneously saw a silver orb enter their field of vision before it disappeared altogether; they couldn’t explain or verify it, but they all had the same experience.

Across the folklore field, Daly says, many scholars have begun to approach the supernatural through a similar, experience-based approach championed by David Hufford, a folklorist and ethnologist whose theories Daly draws from in Eerie Colorado. When Daly approaches legends, he says he strives to address them “more literally. As they literally happened,” adding that this approach “was heavily, heavily stigmatized for, you know, over 100 years when the processes of rationalism and empiricism and enlightenment [were] the overriding paradigms in academia and within intellectual culture more broadly.”

Yet the study of folklore appears to be changing, and Daly isn’t the only scholar in the field of belief studies who is interested in how legends function in a larger cultural context. He notes a newfound “openness that scholars are engaging with, in terms of thinking: This person literally did see a UFO. This person literally did see Bigfoot. This person literally did see a ghost, which is, I think, an interesting new movement that I want to keep on pursuing.”

Ready for a legend trip of your own?

Jack Daly uses the term “legend trip” in his book Eerie Colorado, which he describes as a visit to a site associated with a supernatural legend, where individuals often try to interact with a legend through rituals or “tests.” For those who want to get up close and personal with some of the local legends featured in Eerie Colorado, Daly has both visited and recommends these sites:

The Stanley Hotel in Estes Park. For Daly, the Stanley is a prime example of “the transformative effect that the supernatural can have in reality.” Before The Shining, he notes, the site was “in disrepair. It was falling apart. People weren’t really going to Estes Park. Stephen King goes there, he has a supernatural encounter ostensibly. It causes him to write the book… the book turns into a movie… And then that literally transforms the culture surrounding both Estes Park and the Stanley Hotel. It was repaired. It is now a destination. It’s super, super nice.”

The Vampire Grave in Lafayette, where, according to legend, a tree grew from a stake used to kill a vampire. Check out Daly’s viral TikTok at the Vampire Grave at @thefolklord

The Molly Brown House in Denver, which is rumored to be haunted by both Molly and her husband.

The Denver Botanic Gardens October Ghost Tours

Cheeseman Park in Denver, which some consider one of the most haunted sites in Denver as it was built over the Mount Prospect Cemetery, where thousands are still buried.

For those interested in legends they can explore from the comfort of their homes, Daly recommends the Digital Folklore podcast, hosted by Perry Carpenter and Mason Amadeus. Described on their website as a “fusion of audio drama and narrative documentary,” the pair dive into internet legends, monsters and conspiracy theories “through the lens of academic folklore.” Like Daly, they strive to use these legends to draw broader cultural connections, rather than simply collecting and platforming them.

‘I know what I saw’

In the process of writing Eerie Colorado, Daly notes his attempts to balance academic scholarship and theory with folklore in an approachable way. Tapping into existing scholarship and attempting to draw conclusions about the role of the legend in Colorado culture, Eerie Colorado takes on a new perspective—one supported by research.

After reading some of the existing books about Colorado folklore, Daly noticed a trend: “They don’t cite their sources. They are clearly unfamiliar with the broader scholarship that would give them a much deeper level [of understanding].” In Eerie Colorado, Daly describes how many previous publications on Colorado folklore will present a story and let it speak for itself, without attempting to interpret the function these stories might serve to the local people. Daly sought to remedy this gap in the literature with his book, attempting to make meaning out of popular Colorado legends by situating them within a broader cultural context and tracing their developments across time and place.

“There’s one thing you notice with legends: They migrate,” says Daly. He argues that legends, even those that appear specific to Colorado, can often be situated in “a broader legend complex [tied] into other variants that we see across not just the United States, but the entire world.”

For example, the Phantom Jogger of Riverdale Road in Thornton, which Daly covers in Eerie Colorado, closely mimics the more commonly known story of the Vanishing Hitchhiker, which has been well documented by folklorists since the 1940s, Daly notes in his book. According to Thornton legend, a jogger was killed in a hit and run on Riverdale Road and left to haunt the site of the crash.

Daly sets the scene: “You’ll be driving along the road, and you’ll see this jogger, and sometimes they’ll ask you for a ride. They’ll get in the car, and then they’ll disappear. And so that’s a variant of the Vanishing Hitchhiker, but it’s a Colorado version because it’s athletic. It’s a jogger.”

In both cases, the disappearing hitchhikers and Thornton’s jogger often leave behind a mark of their presence. According to the local legends Daly documents in Eerie Colorado, those who are eager to drive down Riverdale Road and are brave enough to pull over may hear footsteps approaching them or fists banging against the sides of their car, or they may find handprints left on the outside of their vehicle.

Daly’s UFO sightings can also be linked back to popular legends of the past. When he was in high school, Daly and a friend “saw a giant blue orb flying over a field.” He details in Eerie Colorado that similar visual experiences are not uncommon and have been well documented across history, often known by a host of different names. “They’ve been connected with fairies,” Daly shares. “They’ve been connected with Bigfoot as well. They’re a common thing that people have described seeing.”

Throughout history and the contemporary era, countless individuals have witnessed strange phenomena in the skies that they cannot explain. Regardless of whether they interpret these sightings as flying saucers, massive fireballs or ships of fairies on the way to Magonia, Daly’s book guides readers through trends in firsthand accounts of the supernatural while tracking them across history. Popular creatures and entities that have taken on legendary status may be known by various names, but like the Vanishing Hitchhiker and the Phantom Jogger, the original legend and its local offspring often retain the same key attributes.

As for where he falls on the spectrum of belief in the supernatural, Daly says, “I do believe, honestly. And part of it has come from my own personal experience.” Recalling the silver orb in the skies near Bailey, he reflects, “I don’t know what it was, but I had that encounter. Like, I know that I know what I saw, and that’s what people say: I know what I saw. My experience was my experience, and that’s what I found in doing my fieldwork as well.”

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In new book, CU ��ý�� folklorist Jack Daly bridges the gap between academic research and Colorado legend.

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Top image: the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado, with illustrative glow (Photo: Carol Highsmith/Wikimedia Commons)

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