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Across the tropical Pacific, some of the planet’s most distinctive land snails are slipping out of existence, turning once noisy, living forests into quieter, emptier places. Nowhere is that loss more visible than on volcanic archipelagos where evolution ran wild and produced hundreds of species found nowhere else. As extinction accelerates, scientists warn that these small, often overlooked animals are signaling a much larger unraveling of island ecosystems.

In the central Pacific, the crisis is especially stark: there were once more than 750 species of native tree snails in one island chain alone, and at least 60% of them have already vanished. Conservationists are racing to keep the remaining species alive through captive breeding, predator control, and last-ditch releases back into the wild, even as new research shows that the forces driving these losses are spreading across islands from Micronesia to Melanesia.

Hawaii’s snails and the making of an extinction capital

To understand why Pacific islands have become ground zero for snail extinctions, I start in Hawaii, where isolation and varied microclimates produced an extraordinary radiation of land snails. There were once more than 750 species of kāhuli, the native tree snails that live on leaves and branches in wet forests, and within the last century at least 60% of those snails have gone extinct. Biologists now routinely describe the Hawaiian Islands as an “extinction capital,” a place where the pace of loss has outstripped the capacity of species to adapt or move.

State biologist Sischo has watched hundreds of snail species disappear across the Hawaiian Islands in just a few decades, a collapse that mirrors broader declines in native birds, plants, and insects. In some cases, the last survivors of a lineage now cling to life on a single remote ridge or valley, their entire global range smaller than a city park. That concentration of risk is what makes island snails such sensitive indicators of ecological stress, and why their disappearance is a warning that the broader Pacific landscape is being rapidly reshaped.

Predators, habitat loss, and a perfect storm of threats

The forces driving these extinctions are overwhelmingly human in origin. People reshape island ecosystems when they clear forests, build roads, and introduce new species, and the result for land snails has been a repeating trajectory of decline. Habitat destruction is the first blow, stripping away the cool, moist understory that many species need, but it is quickly followed by invasive predators that find slow, soft-bodied snails to be easy prey. Once those pressures arrive, the losses tend to cascade, and local extinctions can unfold in just a few years.

In Hawaii, officials describe a grim list of pressures that now converge on almost every remaining population. Unfortunately, Hawaii’s native snails face a number of challenges to their continued existence, including invasive predators, habitat loss, and climate change that dries out once-humid refuges. Among the most damaging are rats and other mammals that were never part of these islands’ original fauna, along with carnivorous snails and flatworms that actively hunt native species on leaves and tree trunks.

Invasive hunters: rats, flatworms, and carnivorous snails

When I look at the specific culprits, the picture becomes even more stark. The declines can mostly be attributed to invasive predators, including rats such as Rattus rattus and other rodents that climb trees at night to eat snails off leaves. Reptiles like the arboreal Jackson‘s chameleon also prey on snails, turning once-safe forest canopies into hunting grounds. These predators do not just thin populations, they can wipe out entire species that evolved for millions of years without such threats.

On the forest floor, another invader has become notorious. Evidence indicates that predation by the New Guinea flatworm is the greatest cause of the extinction or drastically reduced numbers of many native snails, as it tracks them by slime trails and consumes them whole. A related predator, the flatworm Platydemus manokwari, has been documented spreading across Pacific islands and having a severe impact on snail populations, a trend highlighted in new work that Tracking centuries of shell records has helped reveal. Once these flatworms arrive, they can move faster than their prey and are almost impossible to eradicate.

Evolutionary marvels with nowhere to run

What makes this crisis particularly tragic is that island snails are evolutionary marvels that had already done the hard work of adapting to their home landscapes. The Hawaiian Islands were host to a spectacular land snail species radiation with over 750 described species in some groups, each fine tuned to specific elevations, host plants, and microclimates. Within that diversity, the family Amastridae is the most speciose in the islands with 325 described species, many of them already gone. Even in places that still look wild to a casual visitor, the intricate web of snail species that once existed has been thinned to a handful of survivors.

Part of the problem is biological inertia. Snails‘ slow pace of adaptation leaves them vulnerable to extinction, as researchers at the Pacific Bioscience Research Center, or PBRC, and scientist Rob Cowie have emphasized. These animals reproduce slowly, often have small clutch sizes, and are tightly bound to narrow environmental conditions, which means they cannot quickly evolve defenses against new predators or tolerate rapid warming and drying. When change comes at the speed of global trade and climate disruption, their evolutionary toolkit is simply not enough.

Last refuges and the work of generations

Despite the grim statistics, I also see pockets of resilience and determined human response. On one remote Hawaiian island, researchers have documented how a tiny species known as E. christenseni, about the size of a pea and marked with tigerlike stripes, persists in tussocks of native grass that shield it from predators and drying winds. That kind of microrefuge shows how, even in heavily altered landscapes, careful management of small habitat patches can keep a lineage alive while broader recovery plans take shape. It also underscores how close to the edge many species now live, with their fate tied to a single valley, slope, or clump of vegetation.

Conservationists are trying to widen that margin. Earlier in December, the Hawaii Department of released endangered O’ahu tree snails back into protected forest, the result of years of captive breeding, research, and conservation work. That effort is part of what one federal program has called the work of generations, a long term attempt to rebuild wild populations before they wink out entirely. At the same time, advocates warn that Snail Extinction in Hawaii appears to be speeding up, and that dozens, if not hundreds, of other unique Hawaiian snail species could soon follow the same path without stronger protections and funding.

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