JURASSIC PARK - Here we come!The dodo bird is extinct. This scientist says she can bring it back.The company she works for is betting millions it can realize a once-far-fetched idea of “de-extinction.”
https://www.washingtonpost.com/climate-environment/2025/01/25/de-extinction-beth-shapiro/DALLAS — The place where the dead may be brought back to life is a drab, single-story building in an office park next to a semitruck lot.
Inside, between rows of incubators and microscopes, Beth Shapiro and her team are attempting a feat straight out of science fiction: reviving the dodo, a bird that’s been extinct for more than three centuries.
A growing group of scientists is trying to bring back extinct animals, an idea that is drawing closer than ever due to recent advances in gene editing.
Shapiro, one of the world’s leading experts on finding and decoding strains of genetic material from long-lost animals, has already done more than anyone to reveal the secrets of the dodo, the flightless icon of extinction that inspired generations to protect still-living species from vanishing.
Yet in the not-so-distant past, Shapiro didn’t see why the dodo needed to make a comeback. Like many skeptics of the idea of “de-extinction,” she once thought there was no point to bringing back an extinct animal with no home to go to.
Now, unlike the dodo, Shapiro is adapting. She took leave from a cushy university gig last year to become chief science officer at Colossal, a Dallas-based bioscience firm that has raised $435 million in funding, including $200 million announced this month.
“As the world changes and technology changes, as a scientist, you should adapt,” she said before slipping on a white lab coat over another recent change — a tattoo of a dodo on her arm. “And your opinion of what is possible should adapt to that.”
For Shapiro, it’s not just about the dodo. The scientific breakthroughs she hopes to make may not only revive extinct species but also save animals at the brink today, she said.
Still, as she takes on this job, Shapiro still dwells on some of the same questions she had as a critic: not only how, scientifically, to bring it back, but how to do it ethically.
Extinction
Shapiro, 49, never planned to be a DNA hunter. Raised in northwest Georgia, she enrolled at the University of Georgia intent on becoming a broadcast journalist. But a nine-week geology and anthropology program during which she toured the country and camped in national parks got her hooked on digging through dirt.
After winning a Rhodes Scholarship at Oxford, she joined the lab of Alan Cooper, a pioneer in the brand-new field studying ancient DNA.
“He said, ‘If you join my lab, you can go to Siberia.’ And I was like, ‘That sounds like a great opportunity,’” she said.
Instead of studying extinct animals by analyzing the shape of their skeletons, as traditional paleontologists do, ancient DNA researchers scour dusty museums for specimens and remote tundra for bones from which to pluck strains of genetic material and unravel the secrets of how prehistoric creatures lived and evolved.
The field was hot, and Shapiro was trying to make a name for herself in it.
“It was a very male-dominated field, and there was a lot of ego,” said Duane Froese, an earth scientist at the University of Alberta who trekked into the Klondike with Shapiro to find ancient bison, bear, horse and mammoth bones. Shapiro was the “glue” that kept scientific collaborations from falling apart over disagreements, he said. “She’s often very good at bringing everybody back together.”
During the course of her career, Shapiro searched for DNA-rich fossils in frigid permafrost and on tropical islands. But one of her first big breaks came while walking the halls of Oxford.
“Every day going into the lab, I would have to pass this dodo specimen,” she said. “It was there in front of me all the time, this icon of extinction.”
When she first asked to be the first geneticist to get her hands on the icon, Oxford’s museum said no.
“She often goes against the flow,” said Daniel Rubenstein, a behavioral ecologist who was a fellow with her at Oxford and who today is a professor at Princeton University. “She’s not timid in tackling wicked problems.”
The Oxford specimen is famous. No one is quite sure how it was acquired, but it probably served an inspiration for the Lewis Carroll character who goaded Alice to compete in an absurd footrace in Wonderland in which everyone won.
In real life, the dodo lost. After the Dutch settled its home, the island of Mauritius, in the 17th century, it took less then three decades for the bird, which laid only one egg a year, to go extinct. The odd, flightless bird didn’t fear humans, who clubbed it for a quick meal. Stowaway rats raided the eggs of the rest.
Even in death, a question persisted: What exactly was it? For centuries, no one was sure what type of bird the dodo was. “This was a genuine mystery,” Shapiro said.
After proving herself with ancient DNA work on other birds, Shapiro convinced the museum to let her take a chunk of leg bone. Publishing their results in the journal Science, she and her colleagues discovered the dodo is a big, overgrown pigeon.
Evolution
For Shapiro, ancient DNA filled an itch for adventure, allowing her to travel into the past. It was “a way of being a kind of explorer, but in modern times,” she said.
She went on to win a MacArthur Fellowship and become a professor at Pennsylvania State University and then the University of California at Santa Cruz.
Whenever she talked to people about her work, they’d ask the same thing: “whether this means we’re bringing extinct species back to life.”
Shapiro admitted she was “initially pretty reluctant to accept this idea of de-extinction.” But the thought, of course, crossed her mind. She taught a graduate seminar at Santa Cruz on de-extinction to explore the idea and published a book called “How to Clone a Mammoth” in 2015.
Her book’s title promises a how-to manual, but inside she comes to what she called a “positive yet skeptical” conclusion: Though high-tech biology may benefit existing species, cloning a mammoth is technologically impossible, in large part because no one has ever found viable mammoth cells frozen in ice.
And even if an extinct animal could be brought back, she thought, it’d be returning to an altered environment where it may not thrive. “There is no point in bringing the dodo back,” Shapiro told the Wall Street Journal a few years after publishing her book. “Their eggs will be eaten the same way that made them go extinct the first time.”
“She was probably the biggest critic” of de-extinction, Froese said.
Her thinking began to shift while writing the book and after meeting Harvard geneticist George Church.
His idea wasn’t to clone mammoths per se, but to tweak the genome of its closest relative, the Asian elephant. By using the latest gene-editing tools, including CRISPR, to make changes to the DNA code linked to tusk size and shape, woolly hair and other adaptations to the cold, geneticists could create something mammoth-like.
“I’d been thinking about it wrong,” she said. No, scientists will never clone a genetic copy of an extinct mammoth, like scientists have done with Dolly the sheep. “But that’s not how it would happen.”
When Church and Ben Lamm, a tech entrepreneur, launched Colossal in 2021, Shapiro was still leery, saying at the time that “there’s tons of trouble everyone is going to encounter along the way.”
Lamm made a point of winning over the doubters by explaining the company’s goals. “It’s not our job to persuade anyone that what we’re doing is a good idea or bad idea. It’s just our job to be transparent and educate,” he said. Trying to bring Shapiro aboard was a no-brainer. “Beth is arguably the top ancient DNA researcher,” Lamm said.
Like for many, the coronavirus pandemic proved to be a turning point in Shapiro’s career.
A number of personal changes piled up — a breast cancer scare, her mother’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, the murder of her close cousin, raising her first- and fourth-graders while they attended school on Zoom for more than a year. The upheaval prompted her to reflect on how she spends her time.
In quiet moments, she began asking herself and her husband, Richard E. Green, also a professor at UC-Santa Cruz, “Am I using every minute of my day and the talents that I have and the reach that I have to do the most that I can?”
De-extinction?
At Colossal’s gleaming white lab in Dallas, Shapiro watched as one of the company’s scientists, Anna Keyte, probed an egg of one of the dodo’s closest living relatives, a common pigeon.
Working at one of the lab’s benches, Keyte gingerly inserted a needle into the shell, sucking out a bit of the egg white to make room for a dime-sized window she then cut into the top of the egg with a tiny pair of scissors.
The hole revealed a web of red vessels embedded in the yolk. Keyte maneuvered another needle into the thump-thumping at its center and drew out a sliver of blood to extract the key to de-extincting the dodo: primordial germ cells.
In the embryos of birds, humans and many other organisms, primordial germ cells are the ones destined to become sperm or egg cells in adults. Colossal plans to extract and edit these cells, using a living pigeon’s DNA as a canvass and dabbing the genes of the dodo into it. After that, Shapiro’s team plans to inject the edited cells into the circulating blood of a developing embryo.
The bird that hatches from that egg will be a regular pigeon, but with one key difference: Its reproductive organs will contain dodo DNA. If all goes according to plan, that bird’s offspring, in turn, will be a dodo.
Or at least, it will be a close copy. “We’re not trying to make something that’s identical to a dodo,” Shapiro said. “We’re trying to create something that’s able to behave like a dodo would on that landscape in some key, functional way. So a large, flightless bird that wanders around and eats fruits and spreads the seeds.”
In addition to the dodo, Colossal aims to bring back the woolly mammoth and a carnivorous marsupial called the thylacine, or Tasmanian tiger. Apologies to “Jurassic Park” fans, but the Tyrannosaurus rex is not happening, she said.
“When you say de-extinction to the average person, they immediately think ‘Jurassic Park,’” Shapiro said. But the DNA of dinosaurs that died tens of millions of years ago has degraded too far to be stitched back together.
When Colossal launched, it faced many critics in addition to Shapiro with lots of questions: Would de-extinct animals displace modern ones? Could people safely live alongside revived beasts as big as a mammoth? And couldn’t the money be better spent on saving endangered species that are still around?
“Species that have been extinct for thousands of years, to think that you can re-create that ecosystem in today’s world?” said Rubenstein, one of Shapiro’s old collaborators. “I’m not a big fan of that.”
But if anyone can do it right, he added, it’s Shapiro. “Because she’s careful, because she cares about evolutionary history, she’s a good person to be at the helm of this project.”
For Shapiro, doing the dodo justice means making sure it has a home to go to. Last year, she took a trip with one of her sons to Mauritius. Officials there eased her earlier concerns about a lack of habitat for the bird after showing her fenced-off areas where dodos could roam in the future. “They actually have some really advanced conservation work that’s going on to try to restore native habitats,” she said.
Shapiro aims to use gene editing and other Colossal tech to help extinct animals’ living cousins. The company wants to fix “deleterious mutations” in endangered pink pigeons, which suffer from inbreeding, with DNA from museum specimens. Piggybacking on its mammoth work, her team also wants to make a vaccine for a herpes virus that kills elephants.
Shapiro’s evolution on the idea of de-extinction involved “coming to grips with how transformative this technology will be” for living species, she said. She said her new salary is on par with that at her university job. “I guess I swapped tenure for stock options,” she said.
The company plans to make money not with zoo-style exhibits but by selling its technologies as well as credits for conserving biodiversity and sequestering carbon. It hopes future mammoth herds will restore grasslands that will store the climate-warming carbon.
Shapiro is ready to embrace the mammoth in a new way, too.
“I had always wanted a tattoo but could never commit,” she said, referring to the dodo inking on her arm. “One of my best friends is fully covered in tattoos and finally convinced me.”
After putting on her coat at Colossal’s lab, she whirled her thumbs over her head to point to a spot on her back where she could add an image of a mammoth. “I have to keep them at the same size ratio.”
This article is part of Animalia, a column exploring the strange and fascinating world of animals and the ways in which we appreciate, imperil and depend on them.