Evolution’s moment of truth

“The biggest mystery we’re trying to understand is the origin of diversity, what Darwin called ‘the mystery of mysteries,’” Uy says. “Where do species originate and where does diversity come from And once a species originates, how is it maintained?”

Since 2005, Uy has travelled to the Solomons in the South Pacific to help answer these questions. On a trip this past June, Uy and the members of his lab—including postdoctoral researcher Elsie Shogren, who has accompanied Uy on fieldwork trips since 2022—focused their work on species of flycatcher and honeyeater birds.

While these families of birds are not exclusive to the Solomons, the archipelago—like Darwin’s Galapagos Islands—offers a unique research environment because of its geographical isolation, diverse ecosystem, and the presence of multiple islands with varying conditions and unique species. The islands’ different environments create natural laboratories where species can evolve in isolation, leading to high levels of biodiversity. This isolation, coupled with areas where species interbreed, allows the researchers to study the processes of speciation, adaptation, and gene flow.

Uy and Shogren both began their careers as ecologists, studying the interactions between organisms and their environments. They pivoted, however, when they realized ecology was only one piece of the puzzle and they would need to expand their toolkits to fully explore the complexities of evolutionary biology.

“In order to get to the bottom of what was driving the difference in species, we had to also become geneticists,” Uy says.

Back in Rochester, they’ve partnered with Dean’s Professor of Biology Daven Presgraves, who has taught them a range of advanced genomic sequencing tools to better understand the genetic forces driving species diversity and adaptation. By looking at genetic differences and how these relate to traits like feather color or beak shape, Uy, Shogren, and the other members of the Uy lab track how species adapt to their environments and change over time.

“If Darwin and Mayr and all those scientists had the amazing technologies we have today, they probably would have answered every question about evolution,” Uy says. “We are lucky to be born in this timeframe of a technological revolution that has allowed us to explore these fundamental questions of evolutionary biology.”

THE JOURNEY FROM UY’S LAB in Hutchison Hall in Rochester to the Solomons involves five flights to reach Makira Island, plus a bumpy two-mile ride in the back of a pickup truck from the airstrip to Kirakira, Makira’s capital. Uy conducts his research across the island, often relying on small boats to reach remote areas, but Kirakira served as the focus of his most recent trip. Here, the modest infrastructure includes houses, several shops, markets, and a hospital.

The researchers typically spend several weeks in June in the Solomons, staying in guest houses managed by host families. Most of the houses are raised structures that are designed for the humid climate with open layouts for ventilation. Some households rely on rainwater tanks for water, as plumbing and electricity can be inconsistent. When it’s available, electricity often comes from generators or solar panels.

On this particular trip, Uy and Shogren have come to study two species of honeyeater birds: the sooty (black) honeyeater (Myzomela tristrami) and the cardinal (red) honeyeater (Myzomela cardinalis). The two species do interbreed on the Solomon Islands, but they remain distinct. How do the species maintain their distinct identities even as genetic exchanges are taking place? So far, Uy and Shogren have identified a few environmental and genetic factors, including mating preferences, ecological niches, and mechanisms preventing their genes from fully integrating.

“We are approaching this with fine-scale genomic tools as well as boots-on-the-ground fieldwork, where we can actually observe the birds and see what they’re doing in real time in terms of their behavior,” Shogren says.

In order to understand these dynamics, however, they must first tag and record as many birds as possible in the field, ensuring they gather the data they need for their studies back in the lab in Rochester.

On the Solomons, Uy and Shogren rise before dawn. After a breakfast of crackers and instant coffee, they head out to the jungle alongside a team of islanders called the “Kikito Boys” after the local name for the Myzomela cardinalis species. Sometimes the journey involves navigating the coastline by motorboat or embarking on a nine-mile hike through sweltering temperatures and tropical humidity. Mosquitos are ever present, and malaria is a constant concern on the island.

They work against the clock to set up mist nets—nearly invisible nets used to gently catch birds in the wild. They typically have just a two-hour window in the morning, after bats stop flying and before the sun becomes too strong and the wind picks up, making the nets more visible to birds.

The placement of the nets is crucial and requires a skill and precision that the Kikito Boys have honed for years: the birds fly high in the canopy so the Kikito Boys need to scale the trees to strategically place the nets high and close to nests.

ONCE A BIRD IS CAUGHT, Uy and Shogren measure the bird’s body size and aspects of its morphology, record its conditions and sex, and take blood samples. They put colored tags on the birds’ feet so they can use binoculars to identify individual birds and study their feeding and mating behaviors, and reconstruct their genealogy. Then the bird is released.

To observe how birds defend their territory, Uy and Shogren use taxidermy mounts placed in the birds’ habitat, along with speakers that play recorded bird calls to mimic a live intruder. These setups provoke strong reactions from the birds, who often divebomb the mounts in an attempt to drive them away.

In other experiments, the pair have tested how the birds react to mounts of different colors, such as placing a red bird mount in a red bird’s territory versus a black bird mount, to see how they respond to different potential rivals.

“That kind of experimentation on top of nesting behavior on top of genetics gives us a more comprehensive understanding of what happens when two species come together,” Uy says.

After a busy morning tagging birds, the team breaks for a lunch of rice, papaya, and root vegetables like cassava, along with the occasional tuna or other fish caught by the Kikito Boys. In the afternoon, they shift their focus to locating new nests scattered across the island. Finding and observing these nests and their inhabitants is important for tracking the birds’ genealogies and understanding their mating behavior.

To enhance their efforts, Uy and Shogren have involved members of the local community, offering a small reward for anyone who discovers a new nest. The most successful spotters are often the community’s youngest members.

“Our fieldwork season usually coincides with school break, and the kids know their neighborhoods and forests,” Uy says. “They have eyes and ears on the area that we would never have if we tried to do this ourselves.”

Involving kids and community members in the research process has been a cornerstone of Uy’s fieldwork. Unlike many other regions where researchers can rely on established infrastructure to conduct fieldwork, the Solomons require a grassroots approach.

“The only way to do it is to be embedded in the community,” Uy says.

BUILDING ON MUTUAL RESPECT, TRUST, AND COLLABORATION required years of groundwork engaging in open dialogues with the villagers and fully immersing himself in the culture and community.

During their weeks on Makira, Uy and Shogren are often invited to dinners and feasts and to give talks to schoolchildren about their work.

For Uy, a self-proclaimed introvert, these interactions did not come easily at first. However, he has since become fluent in Pijin—the local language, which is a mix of native languages and English. He has become close with his host family, John and Joyce Murray, and calls them his “adopted parents.”

This strong bond with the community didn’t only foster Uy’s research efforts—it also opened the door for him to work alongside villagers in conservation efforts.

In 2005, logging companies began moving into the area. Many villagers initially supported logging, drawn by its financial benefits. However, they soon grew concerned about the long-term effects on their land and resources and the island’s biodiversity—including the birds Uy studies. The villagers enlisted Uy to work with them to explore alternative ways of protecting their forests while still supporting their economic needs.

The Solomons operate under a unique blend of modern government and traditional community structures. Every piece of land in the Solomon Islands is owned by an indigenous community recognized by the federal government. The national government is led by a prime minister elected by the National Parliament, and the country is divided into provinces, each with its own government responsible for local affairs. This arrangement is complemented by traditional systems, where local chiefs and village elders have the final say in community decisions.

To establish a protected land area, Uy collaborated across all levels of governance, beginning with the local chiefs to gain community support. Uy helped establish training programs on running and maintaining conservation programs, conducted workshops on the benefits of conservation, mapped land boundaries, and formed management committees.

“If you don’t have buy-in from the entire community, the project is destined to fail,” Uy says.

He is currently working with three communities to designate a 30,000-acre space on Makira as a protected area. Named “Yato,” which means boundary in the native language, the area would help protect endemic species and preserve the region’s biodiversity.

Uy also worked with a non-government organization to establish a carbon trade system, which allows communities to earn credits by reducing deforestation and conserving forests. These credits can be sold to businesses and governments seeking to offset their carbon emissions, providing a financial incentive to support conservation efforts.

“The idea is to start with Yato and then hopefully connect with land in the neighboring communities and cover most of the island under a protected area status to protect the endemic species and imperiled ecosystems,” Uy says.

But on one of their final days on the island during their most recent research trip, Uy and Shogren faced another type of “moment of truth”—a turning point in their conservation efforts. One of the communities that had previously been supportive of the plan to establish a protected area unexpectedly signed a logging license with a logging company, putting the entire conservation project in jeopardy.

Though initially disheartened, the team recognized a narrow window to restore support, as the logging license was set to expire in a few weeks. Uy and Shogren quickly mobilized, briefing the Ministry of the Environment and other government officials and visiting the communities to explain the situation. Their efforts succeeded in rallying support once again, allowing them to move forward with declaring Yato a protected area.

“Hopefully the people of Makira will really see the benefits of this—the island’s first protected area,” Uy says, “and this will be the leverage we need to show other communities that these efforts are feasible.”

For Uy, the experience is a reminder that unraveling the mysteries of evolution isn’t just about scientific research—it also requires a deep commitment to the people and the places that make such discoveries possible.

“The conservation aspect is a direct offshoot of being embedded in the community, which was essential for conducting scientific research,” Uy says. “We don’t want to just collect data and leave. Through the conservation efforts, we can provide tangible benefits for the community and be part of the community ecosystem. This makes our discoveries even more meaningful.”