Science
Sea urchins made to order: Scripps scientists make transgenic breakthrough
Consider the sea urchin. Specifically, the painted urchin: Lytechinus pictus, a prickly Ping-Pong ball from the eastern Pacific Ocean.
The species is a smaller and shorter-spined cousin of the purple urchins devouring kelp forests. They produce massive numbers of sperm and eggs that fertilize outside of their bodies, allowing scientists to watch the process of urchin creation up close and at scale. One generation gives rise to the next in four to six months. They share more genetic material with humans than fruit flies do and can’t fly away — in short, an ideal lab animal for the developmental biologist.
Scientists have been using sea urchins to study cell development for roughly 150 years. Despite urchins’ status as super reproducers, practical concerns often compel scientists to focus their work on more easily accessible animals: mice, fruit flies, worms.
Scientists working with mice, for example, can order animals online with the specific genetic properties they are hoping to study — transgenic animals, whose genes have been artificially tinkered with to express or repress certain traits.
Researchers working with urchins typically have to spend part of their year collecting them from the ocean.
“Can you imagine if mouse researchers were setting a mousetrap every night, and whatever it is they caught is what they studied?” said Amro Hamdoun, a professor at UC San Diego’s Scripps Institution of Oceanography.
UC San Diego professor Amro Hamdoun holds a painted urchin. His breakthrough creating the creatures could lead to developments in science and medicine.
(Sandy Huffaker / For The Times)
Marine invertebrates represent about 40% of the animal world’s biological diversity yet appear in a scant fraction of a percentage of animal-based studies. What if researchers could access sea urchins as easily as mice? What if it were possible to make and raise lines of transgenic urchins?
How much more could we learn about how life works?
“You know how during the pandemic, everyone was making sourdough? I’m not good at making sourdough,” Hamdoun said recently at his office in Scripps’ Hubbs Hall. He set his sights instead on a project of a different sort: a new transgenic lab animal, “a fruit fly from the sea.”
In March, Hamdoun’s lab published a paper on the bioRxiv preprint server demonstrating the successful insertion of a piece of foreign DNA — specifically, a fluorescent protein from a jellyfish — into the genome of a painted urchin that passed the change down to its offspring.
The result is the first transgenic sea urchin, one that happens to glow like a Christmas bulb under a fluorescent light. (The paper has been submitted for peer review.)
The animals are the first transgenic echinoderms, the phylum that includes starfish, sea cucumbers and other marine animals. Hamdoun’s mission is to make genetically modified urchins available to researchers anywhere, not just those who happen to work in research facilities at the edge of the Pacific Ocean.
Postdoctoral researcher Elliot Jackson works with sea urchin eggs in a lab at Scripps.
(Sandy Huffaker / For The Times)
“If you look at some of the other model organisms, like Drosophila [fruit flies], zebrafish and mouse, there are well-established resource centers,” said Elliot Jackson, a postdoctoral researcher at Scripps and lead author of the paper. “If you want a transgenic line that labels the nervous system, you could probably get that. You could order it. And that’s what we hope we can be for sea urchins.”
Being able to genetically modify an animal supercharges what scientists can learn from it, with implications far beyond any individual species.
“It will transform sea urchins as a model for understanding neurobiology, for understanding developmental biology, for understanding toxicology,” said Christopher Lowe, a Stanford professor of biology who was not involved in the research.
The lab’s breakthrough, and its focus on making the animals freely available to fellow scientists, will “allow us to explore how evolution has solved a lot of really complicated life problems,” he said.
Researchers tend to study mice, flies and the like not because the animals’ biology is best suited to answer their questions but because “all the tools that were necessary to get at your questions were built up in just a few species,” said Deirdre Lyons, an associate professor of biology at Scripps who worked with Hamdoun on early research related to the project.
Expanding the range of animals available for sophisticated lab work is like adding colors to an artist’s palette, Lyons said: “Now you can go get the color that you really want, that best fits your vision, rather than being stuck with a few models.”
Painted urchins and humans live vastly different lives but genetically are quite similar.
(Sandy Huffaker / For The Times)
On the ground floor of Hamdoun’s office building is the Hubbs Hall experimental aquarium, a garage-like space crammed with tanks full of recirculating seawater and a motley assortment of marine life.
On a recent visit, Hamdoun reached into a tank and gently dislodged a painted urchin. It scooched with surprising speed across an outstretched palm, as if exploring alien terrain.
The last common ancestor of L. pictus and Homo sapiens lived at least 550 million years ago. Despite the different evolutionary paths we’ve since traveled, our genomes reveal a shared biological heritage.
The genetic instructions that drive the transformation of a single zygote into a living body are strikingly similar in our two species. Specialized systems differentiating from a single fertilized egg and the translation of a jumble of proteins into a singular living thing — on the cellular level, all of that proceeds in much the same way for urchins and people.
These animals are “really fundamental to our understanding of all of life,” Hamdoun said, placing the urchin back in its tank. “And historically, very inaccessible genetically.”
The experimental aquarium was built in the 1970s, when scooping life from the sea was the only way to acquire research specimens. A few floors up in Hubbs Hall, Hamdoun led the way into the urchin nursery — the first large-scale effort to raise successive generations of the animals in a laboratory. At any given moment, the team has 1,000 to 2,000 sea urchins in various stages of development.
Hamdoun points to transgenic sea urchins his lab is raising at Scripps.
(Sandy Huffaker / For The Times)
Row upon row of tiny plastic tanks stood against a wall, each containing a lentil-size juvenile urchin. A strip of tape on each tank noted the animal’s genetic modification and date of fertilization. On some, a second bit of tape indicated animals that had the modification in their sex cells’ DNA, meaning it could be passed down to offspring. (For this reason, the lab keeps its urchins scrupulously separate from the wild population.)
“One of the big questions in all of biology is to understand how the series of instructions in the genome gives you whatever phenotype you want to study,” Hamdoun said — essentially, how the string of amino acids that is an animal’s genetic code gives rise to the characteristics of the living, respiring creature. “One of the fundamental things you have to do is be able to modify that genome, and then study what the outcome is.”
He pointed to a tank containing a tiny urchin from whose genetic code the protein ABCD1 has been snipped.
ABCD1 acts like a bouncer, Hamdoun explained, parking along the cell membrane and ejecting foreign molecules. The protein’s action can preserve the cell from harmful substances but can sometimes work against an organism’s best interest, as when it prevents the cell from absorbing a necessary medication.
Researchers using urchins in which that protein no longer works can study the movement of a molecule through an organism — DDT, for example — and measure how much of the substance ends up in the cell without the confounding interference of ABCD1. They can reverse-engineer how big a role ABCD1 plays in preventing a cell from absorbing a drug.
One biology professor said Scripps’ work will transform sea urchins as a model for research.
(Sandy Huffaker / For The Times)
And then there are the fluorescent urchins.
“The magic happens in this room,” Jackson said, walking into a narrow office with $1 million worth of microscopes at one end and a decades-old hand-cranked centrifuge bolted to a table at another.
He placed a petri dish containing three pencil-eraser-size transgenic urchins under a microscope. At 120 times its size, each looked like the Times Square New Year’s Eve ball come to life — a glowing, wiggling creature of pentamerous radial symmetry.
Fluorescence is not just an echinoderm party trick. Lighting up the cells makes it easier for researchers to track their movement in a developing organism. Researchers can watch as the early cells of a blastula divide and reorganize into neural or cardiac tissue. Eventually, scientists will be able to turn off individual genes and see how that affects development. It will help us understand how our own species develops, and why that development doesn’t always proceed according to plan.
The lab has “done a great job. It’s really been welcomed by the community,” said Marko Horb, senior scientist and director of the National Xenopus Resource at the University of Chicago’s Marine Biological Laboratory.
Horb runs the national clearinghouse for genetically modified species of Xenopus, a clawed frog used in lab research. Funded in part by the National Institutes of Health, the center develops lines of transgenic frogs for scientific use and distributes them to researchers.
Hamdoun envisions a similar resource center for his lab’s urchins. They’ve already started sending tiny vials of transgenic urchin sperm to interested scientists, who can grow bespoke urchins with eggs acquired from Hamdoun’s lab or another source.
Hamdoun vividly recalls the time he spent earlier in his career trying to track down random snippets of DNA necessary for his research, the disappointment and frustration of writing to professors and former postdocs only to find that the material had long been lost. He’d rather future generations of scientists spend their time on discovery.
“Biology is really interesting,” he said. “The more people can get access to it, the more we’re going to learn.”
Three transgenic sea urchins in a petri dish.
(Sandy Huffaker / For The Times)
Science
What’s in a Name? For These Snails, Legal Protection
The sun had barely risen over the Pacific Ocean when a small motorboat carrying a team of Indigenous artisans and Mexican biologists dropped anchor in a rocky cove near Bahías de Huatulco.
Mauro Habacuc Avendaño Luis, one of the craftsmen, was the first to wade to shore. With an agility belying his age, he struck out over the boulders exposed by low tide. Crouching on a slippery ledge pounded by surf, he reached inside a crevice between two rocks. There, lodged among the urchins, was a snail with a knobby gray shell the size of a walnut. The sight might not dazzle tourists who travel here to see humpback whales, but for Mr. Avendaño, 85, these drab little mollusks represent a way of life.
Marine snails in the genus Plicopurpura are sacred to the Mixtec people of Pinotepa de Don Luis, a small town in southwestern Oaxaca. Men like Mr. Avendaño have been sustainably “milking” them for radiant purple dye for at least 1,500 years. The color suffuses Mixtec textiles and spiritual beliefs. Called tixinda, it symbolizes fertility and death, as well as mythic ties between lunar cycles, women and the sea.
The future of these traditions — and the fate of the snails — are uncertain. The mollusks are subject to intense poaching pressure despite federal protections intended to protect them. Fishermen break them (and the other mollusks they eat) open and sell the meat to local restaurants. Tourists who comb the beaches pluck snails off the rocks and toss them aside.
A severe earthquake in 2020 thrust formerly submerged parts of their habitat above sea level, fatally tossing other mollusks in the snail’s food web to the air, and making once inaccessible places more available to poachers.
Decades ago, dense clusters of snails the size of doorknobs were easy to find, according to Mr. Avendaño. “Full of snails,” he said, sweeping a calloused, violet-stained hand across the coves. Now, most of the snails he finds are small, just over an inch, and yield only a few milliliters of dye.
Science
Video: This Parrot Has No Beak, But Is at the Top of the Pecking Order
new video loaded: This Parrot Has No Beak, But Is at the Top of the Pecking Order
By Meg Felling and Carl Zimmer
April 20, 2026
Science
Contributor: Focus on the real causes of the shortage in hormone treatments
For months now, menopausal women across the U.S. have been unable to fill prescriptions for the estradiol patch, a long-established and safe hormone treatment. The news media has whipped up a frenzy over this scarcity, warning of a long-lasting nationwide shortage. The problem is real — but the explanations in the media coverage miss the mark. Real solutions depend on an accurate understanding of the causes.
Reporters, pharmaceutical companies and even some doctors have blamed women for causing the shortage, saying they were inspired by a “menopause moment” that has driven unprecedented demand. Such framing does a dangerous disservice to essential health advocacy.
In this narrative, there has been unprecedented demand, and it is explained in part by the Food and Drug Administration’s recent removal of the “black-box warning” from estradiol patches’ packaging. That inaccurate (and, quite frankly, terrifying) label had been required since a 2002 announcement overstated the link between certain menopause hormone treatments and breast cancer. Right-sizing and rewording the warning was long overdue. But the trouble with this narrative is that even after the black-box warning was removed, there has not been unprecedented demand.
Around 40% of menopausal women were prescribed hormone treatments in some form before the 2002 announcement. Use plummeted in its aftermath, dipping to less than 5% in 2020 and just 1.8% in 2024. According to the most recent data, the number has now settled back at the 5% mark. Unprecedented? Hardly. Modest at best.
Nor is estradiol a new or complex drug; the patch formulation has existed for decades, and generic versions are widely manufactured. There is no exotic ingredient, no rare supply chain dependency, no fluke that explains why women are suddenly being told their pharmacy is out of stock month after month.
The story is far more an indictment of the broken insurance industry: market concentration, perverse incentives and the consequences of allowing insurance companies to own the pharmacy benefit managers that effectively control drug access for the majority of users. Three companies — CVS Caremark, Express Scripts and OptumRx — manage 79% of all prescription drug claims in the United States. Those companies are wholly owned subsidiaries of three insurance behemoths: CVS Health, Cigna and UnitedHealth Group, respectively. This means that the same corporation that sells you your insurance plan also decides which drugs get covered, at what price, and whether your pharmacy can stock them. This is called vertical integration. In another era, we might have called it a cartel. The resulting problems are not unique to hormone treatments; they have affected widely used medications including blood thinners, inhalers and antibiotics. When a low-cost generic such as estradiol — a medication with no blockbuster profit margins and no patent protection — runs into friction in this system, the friction is not random. It is structural. Every decision in that chain is filtered through the same corporate profit motive. And when the drug in question is an off-patent estradiol patch that has negligible profit margins because of generic competition but requires logistical investment to keep consistently in stock? The math on “how much does this company care about ensuring access” is not complicated.
Unfortunately, there is little financial incentive to ensure smooth, consistent access. There is, however, significant financial incentive to steer patients toward branded alternatives, or simply to let supply tighten — because the companies aren’t losing much profit if sales of that product dwindle. This is not a conspiracy theory: The Federal Trade Commission noted this dynamic in a report that documented how pharmacy benefit managers’ practices inflate costs, reduce competition and harm patient access, particularly for independent pharmacies and for generic drugs.
Any claim that the estradiol patch shortage is meaningfully caused by more women now demanding hormone treatments is a distraction. It is also misogyny, pure and simple, to imply that the solution to the shortage is for women’s health advocates to dial it down and for women to temper their expectations. The scarcity of estradiol patches is the outcome of a broken system refusing to provide adequate supply.
Meanwhile, there are a few strategies to cope.
- Ask your prescriber about alternatives. Estradiol is available in multiple formulations, including gel, spray, cream, oral tablet, vaginal ring and weekly transdermal patch, which is a different product from the twice-weekly patch and may be more consistently available depending on manufacturer and region.
- Consider an online pharmacy. Many are doing a good job locating and filling these prescriptions from outside the pharmacy benefit manager system.
- Call ahead. Patch shortages are inconsistent across regions and distributors. A call to pharmacies in your area, or a broader geographic radius if you’re able, can locate stock that your regular pharmacy doesn’t have.
- Consider a compounding pharmacy. These sources can sometimes meet needs when commercially manufactured products are inaccessible. The hormones used are the same FDA-regulated bulk ingredients.
Beyond those Band-Aid solutions, more Americans need to fight for systemic change. The FTC report exists because Congress asked for it and committed to legislation that will address at least some of the problems. The FDA took action to change the labeling on estrogen in the face of citizen and medical experts’ pressure; it should do more now to demand transparency from patch manufacturers.
Most importantly, it is on all of us to call out the cracks in the current system. Instead of repeating “there’s a patch shortage” or a “surge in demand,” say that a shockingly small minority of menopausal women still even get hormonal treatments prescribed at all, and three drug companies control the vast majority of claims in this country. Those are the real problems that need real solutions.
Jennifer Weiss-Wolf, the executive director of the Birnbaum Women’s Leadership Center at New York University School of Law, is the author of the forthcoming book “When in Menopause: A User’s Manual & Citizen’s Guide.” Suzanne Gilberg, an obstetrician and gynecologist in Los Angeles, is the author of “Menopause Bootcamp.”
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