Weather-Morphosis: the unexpected side of climate change

What does transformation really mean? It’s a change of form, of skin, of perspective. An inner and outer metamorphosis, a continuous rewriting of who we are. As human beings, we experience it in our bodies, in the shifting shades of our hair, in our emotions (anger, joy, sadness) but also in our daily choices and feelings. We wear new roles, embrace colors we once feared, and let go of old versions of ourselves to make space for what’s next. But here’s what strikes me most, and what I want to share with you: it’s not just us who are transforming. 

Our impact on the planet is reshaping the destiny of other living beings, too.

Just a few days ago, as I scrolled through the news, a headline caught my eye, it sounded like something out of a sci-fi novel: “Lizards changing sex due to record heat in Australia.” I read it again. "Lizards changing sex?"

Yes, you read that right. And it’s not fiction. It’s science. Climate change isn’t only redrawing landscapes,  it’s rewriting nature’s very identity. When we talk about global warming, what comes to mind?

Melting glaciers? Polar bears in distress? Heatwaves and floods?

Those are the usual images dominating the headlines, but they’re just one side of the story. Behind the dramatic visuals lies an unseen world of unexpected and bizarre consequences that rarely make the news, yet they deserve to be told. Let’s start with the Australian bearded dragon (Pogona vitticeps), a native species now facing a genuine identity crisis.

The mechanism is as fascinating as it is worrying: for these reptiles, sex is determined by temperature during a critical stage of embryonic development. Eggs with typically male chromosomes, when incubated above 32°C, develop as females.

Climate change, quite literally, is turning males into females.

The Italian newspaper  «La Repubblica» recently reported on a public alert campaign by ISPRA and the CNR, describing the arrival of closely monitored alien species such as the rabbitfish (Siganus luridus).

The news sparked debate: this invasive species, originally from the Red Sea, has now colonized the Mediterranean, putting pressure on local fishers and marine ecosystems. It is one of the most evident examples of what biologists call the “tropicalization” of the Mediterranean.

You don’t need to be a marine biologist to notice it: a walk along an Italian beach is enough to see fishers pulling up species that, until a few years ago, belonged only to tropical seas. Barracudas, parrotfish, colorful jellyfish… while sardines and anchovies are becoming increasingly rare.

Warmer waters are driving native species northward and attracting tropical ones to our coasts, transforming not only the underwater landscape but also the food habits and cultural traditions of coastal communities.

For many of us, the day always begins the same way, with a cup of coffee.

It’s the first gesture of the morning, a ritual that sets the rhythm of our routines, accompanying meetings, breaks, and moments of connection. But what if that coffee no longer tasted the same? Climate change is already putting at risk not only the quantity but also the quality of the world’s most beloved beverage.

Coffee plants are extremely sensitive. Arabica, which accounts for about 70% of global production, grows well only within a narrow temperature range, between 18°C and 22°C. When temperatures rise beyond that threshold, the beans lose acidity and aromatic complexity. And it’s not just heat that causes problems: rainfall patterns are becoming increasingly erratic, alternating between prolonged droughts and heavy downpours that disrupt flowering cycles.

According to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), by 2050 nearly half of all areas currently suitable for coffee cultivation may no longer be viable. In Brazil and Southeast Asia, the reduction in suitable land could range from 30% to 85%. The result? Not just less coffee, but different coffee, with a taste less rich and balanced than the one we know today.

If you’ve ever flown by plane, you’ve likely encountered sudden turbulence. What you might not realise is this: climate change is making these “shocks” more frequent. A 2023 study found that skies are now about 50 % to 55 % more turbulent than 40 years ago.

A particularly dangerous form is “clear‑air turbulence”, it happens when the sky looks clear and radar fails to detect it. It forms as jet streams clash with surrounding air masses, creating strong wind shear. With global temperatures climbing, these differences widen and turbulence intensifies.

Projections are sobering: severe turbulence could soon double or even triple. As Professor Paul Williams of the University of Reading warns: “For every ten minutes of severe turbulence we have now, we might soon have twenty or thirty.”

Among the more curious effects of climate change is something scientists call “climatic dwarfism”: the gradual shrinking of some animal species. In the Italian Alps, for instance, chamois now weigh on average about 25 % less than they did in the 1980s. It might look trivial, but it’s a physiological strategy: with warmer temperatures, warm‑blooded animals no longer need so much body mass to survive the cold.

Smaller animals consume less energy and spend less time searching for food, but they also become more vulnerable in harsh winters. Research is revealing how global warming affects animal body size, altering ecological balances and survival prospects in ways rarely noticed.

I’d like to close by returning to our starting point: the world we knew is gone. The strange and unpredictable effects of climate change show us that if we stay still, soon we might not be either.

As Ovid wrote in the Metamorphoses: “Everything changes, nothing perishes.” It’s a call not to read these transformations solely as threats, but as possibilities. Climate change doesn’t live only in newspaper headlines or data charts, it lives in silent, everyday metamorphosis that reshapes life.

The choice is ours: remain spectators, or become protagonists, turning fear into responsibility, and responsibility into hope.

I say goodbye while humming "But everybody's changing, and I don't feel the same". See you very soon.

Chiara Pontoni

Sustainability Manager, Gesteco