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    The epidemicity index of recurrent SARS-CoV-2 infections

    Data and data processingThe modeling tools described in the following sections are applied to the Italian COVID-19 epidemic at the scale of second-level administrative divisions, i.e., provinces and metropolitan cities (as of 2020, 107 spatial units). Official data about resident population at the provincial level are produced yearly by the Italian National Institute of Statistics (Istituto Nazionale di Statistica, ISTAT; data available at http://dati.istat.it/Index.aspx?QueryId=18460). The January 2019 update has been used to inform the spatial distribution of the population.The data to quantify nation-wide human mobility prior to the pandemic come from ISTAT (specifically, from the 2011 national census; data available online at https://www.istat.it/it/archivio/139381). Mobility fluxes, mostly reflecting commuting patterns related to work and study purposes, are provided at the scale of third-level administrative units (municipalities)53,54. These fluxes were upscaled to the provincial level following the administrative divisions of 2019, and used to evaluate the fraction pi of mobile people and the fraction qij of mobile people between i and all other administrative units j (see Supplementary Material in Gatto et al.7).Airport traffic data for year 2019, used to inform the simulation shown in Fig. 4c, d, are from the Italian Airports Association (Assaeroporti; data available at http://assaeroporti.com/statistiche_201912/). Note that airports have been assigned to the main Metropolitan Area they serve, rather than to the province where they are geographically located (e.g., Malpensa Airport has been assigned to the Metropolitan City of Milano, rather than to the neighboring Varese province, where it actually lies).Model parameters are taken from a paper by Bertuzzo et al.14, where they were inferred in a Bayesian framework on the basis of the official epidemiological bulletins released daily by Dipartimento della Protezione Civile55 (data available online at https://github.com/pcm-dpc/COVID-19) and the bulletins of Epicentro, at ISS51,56. The parameters estimated for the initial phase of the Italian COVID-19 epidemic14, during which SARS-CoV-2 was spreading unnoticed in the population, reflect a situation of unperturbed social mixing and human mobility, absent any effort devoted to disease control. This parameterization, in which all parameters (including the transmission rates) are spatially homogeneous, is reported in Table 2 and has been used to produce all the results presented in the main text, except for those of Fig. 6. In this case, to account for the containment measures put in place by the Italian authorities and their effects on transmission rates and mobility patterns during the first months of the pandemic, a time-varying parameterization14 for the period February 24 to May 1, 2020 has been used. In this parameterization, the transmission rates were allowed to take different values over different time windows, corresponding to the timing of the implementation of the main nation-wide restrictions, or lifting thereof. Specifically, the effect of the containment measures was parameterized by assuming that the transmission parameters had a sharp decrease after the containment measures announced at the end of February and the beginning of March, and that they were further reduced in the following weeks as the country was effectively entering full lockdown. As a by-product, these time-varying transmission rates can also at least partially account for seasonal effects on disease transmission. Due to the emerging nature of the pathogen, seasonality has not been given further consideration in this work; however, it may become a key component of future modeling efforts aimed at studying post-pandemic SARS-CoV-2 transmission dynamics3, i.e., if/when the pathogen establishes as endemic. Spatial connectivity too was modified with respect to the baseline scenario to reflect the disruption of mobility patterns induced by the pandemic and the associated containment measures14. Specifically, between-province mobility was progressively reduced as the epidemic unfolded according to estimates obtained through mobility data from mobile applications53,57.Spatially explicit SEPIAR with distributed controlsWe consider a set of n communities connected by human mobility fluxes. In each community, the human population is subdivided according to infection status into the epidemiological compartments of susceptible, exposed (latently infected), post-latent (incubating infectious, also termed pre-symptomatic7), symptomatic infectious, asymptomatic infectious (including paucisymptomatic), and recovered individuals. The present model utilizes previous work aimed to describe the first wave of COVID-19 infections7,14. In particular, it allows us to account for three widely adopted types of containment measures: reduction of local transmission (as a result of the use of personal protections, social distancing, and local mobility restriction), travel restriction, and isolation of infected individuals. To describe the effects of isolation, each infected compartment (exposed, post-latent, symptomatic and asymptomatic) is actually split into two, which allows keeping track of the abundances of infected individuals who are still in the community vs. those who are removed from it (i.e., either in isolation at a hospital, if symptomatic, or quarantined at home, if exposed, post-latent, or asymptomatic). The state variables of the model are summarized in Table 1. Supplementary Figure 1 recapitulates the structure of the model.COVID-19 transmission dynamics are thus described by the following set of ordinary differential equations:$${dot{S}}_{i} =mu ({N}_{i}-{S}_{i})-{lambda }_{i}{S}_{i}\ {dot{E}}_{i} ={lambda }_{i}{S}_{i}-(mu +{delta }^{E}+{chi }_{i}^{E}){E}_{i}\ {dot{P}}_{i} ={delta }^{E}{E}_{i}-(mu +{delta }^{P}+{chi }_{i}^{P}){P}_{i}\ {dot{I}}_{i} =sigma {delta }^{P}{P}_{i}-(mu +alpha +{gamma }^{I}+eta +{chi }_{i}^{I}){I}_{i}\ {dot{A}}_{i} =(1-sigma ){delta }^{P}{P}_{i}-(mu +{gamma }^{A}+{chi }_{i}^{A}){A}_{i}\ {dot{E}}_{i}^{{rm{q}}} ={chi }_{i}^{E}{E}_{i}-(mu +{delta }^{E}){E}_{i}^{{rm{q}}}\ {dot{P}}_{i}^{{rm{q}}} ={chi }_{i}^{P}{P}_{i}+{delta }^{E}{E}_{i}^{{rm{q}}}-(mu +{delta }^{P}){P}_{i}^{{rm{q}}}\ {dot{I}}_{i}^{{rm{h}}} =(eta +{chi }_{i}^{I}){I}_{i}+sigma {delta }^{P}{P}_{i}^{{rm{q}}}-(mu +alpha +{gamma }^{I}){I}_{i}^{{rm{h}}}\ {dot{A}}_{i}^{{rm{q}}} ={chi }_{i}^{A}{A}_{i}+(1-sigma ){delta }^{P}{P}_{i}^{{rm{q}}}-(mu +{gamma }^{A}){A}_{i}^{{rm{q}}}\ {dot{R}}_{i} ={gamma }^{I}({I}_{i}+{I}_{i}^{{rm{h}}})+{gamma }^{A}({A}_{i}+{A}_{i}^{{rm{q}}})-mu {R}_{i}.$$
    (3)
    Susceptible individuals are recruited into community i (i = 1…n) at a constant rate μNi, with μ and Ni being the average mortality rate of the population and the size of the community in the absence of disease, respectively, and die at rate μ. In this way, the equilibrium size of community i without disease amounts to Ni. Susceptible individuals get exposed to the pathogen at rate λi, corresponding to the force of infection for community i (detailed below), thus becoming latently infected (but not infectious yet). Exposed individuals die at rate μ and transition to the post-latent, infectious stage at rate δE. If containment measures including mass testing and preventive isolation of positive cases are in place, exposed individuals may be removed from the general population and quarantined at rate ({chi }_{i}^{E}). Post-latent individuals die at rate μ, progress to the next infectious classes at rate ηP, developing an infection that can be either symptomatic—with probability σ—or asymptomatic, including the case in which only mild symptoms are present—with probability 1 − σ, and may be tested and quarantined at rate ({chi }_{i}^{P}). Symptomatic infectious individuals die at rate μ + α, with α being an extra-mortality term associated with disease-related complications, recover from infection at rate γI, may spontaneously seek treatment at a hospital at rate η, and may be identified through mass screening and hospitalized at rate ({chi }_{i}^{I}). Asymptomatic individuals die at rate μ, recover at rate γA, and may be quarantined at rate ({chi }_{i}^{A}). Infected individuals who are either hospitalized or quarantined at home are subject to the same epidemiological dynamics as those who are still in the community, but are considered to be effectively removed from it, thus not contributing to disease transmission. Individuals who recover from the infection die at rate μ, and are assumed to have permanent immunity to reinfection. This last assumption is not fundamental, as loss of immunity can be easily included in the model. However, immunity to SARS-CoV-2 reinfection is reported to be relatively long-lasting (a few months at least), hence its loss cannot alter transmission dynamics over epidemic timescales14.The cornerstone of model (Eq. (3)) is the force of infection, λi, which in a spatially explicit setting must account not only for locally acquired infections but also for the role played by human mobility. We assume that, at the spatiotemporal scales of interest for our problem, human mobility mostly depicts daily commuting flows (also coherently with the data available for parameterization; see above) and does not actually entail a permanent relocation of individuals. We thus describe human mobility (and the associated social contacts possibly conducive to disease transmission) by means of instantaneous spatial-mixing matrices ({M}_{c,ij}^{X}) (with X ∈ {S, E, P, I, A, R}), i.e.,$${M}_{c,ij}^{X}=left{begin{array}{ll}{r}^{X}{p}_{i}{q}_{ij}(1-{xi }_{ij})hfill&,{text{if}},i,ne, jhfill\ (1-{p}_{i})+(1-{r}^{X}){p}_{i}+{r}^{X}{p}_{i}{q}_{ij}(1-{xi }_{ij})&,{text{if}},i=j,end{array}right.$$
    (4)
    where pi (0 ≤ pi ≤ 1 for all i’s) is the fraction of mobile people in community i, qij (0 ≤ qij ≤ 1 for all i’s and j’s) represents the fraction of people moving between i and j (including j = i, (mathop{sum }nolimits_{j = 1}^{n}{q}_{ij}=1) for all i’s), rX (0 ≤ rX ≤ 1 for all X’s) quantifies the fraction of contacts occurring while individuals in epidemiological compartment X are traveling, and ξij (0 ≤ ξij ≤ 1 for all i’s and j’s) represents the effects of travel restrictions that may be imposed between any two communities i and j as a part of the containment response. Therefore, the probability that residents from i have social contacts while being in j (independently of with whom) is assumed to be proportional to the fraction rX of the mobility-related contacts of the individuals in epidemiological compartment X, multiplied by the probability pi that people from i travel (independently of the destination) and the probability qij that the travel occurs between i and j, possibly reduced by a factor 1 − ξij accounting for travel restrictions. All other contacts contribute to mixing within the local community (i in this case). Note also that if ξij = 0 for all i’s and j’s, then ({M}_{c,ij}^{X}) reduces to ({M}_{ij}^{X}), i.e., to the mixing matrix in the absence of disease-containment measures. In this case, (mathop{sum }nolimits_{j = 1}^{n}{M}_{ij}^{X}=1) for all i’s and X’s. It is important to remark, though, that the epidemiologically relevant contacts between the residents of two different communities, say i and j, may not necessarily occur in either i or j; in fact, they could happen anywhere else, say in community k, between residents of i and j simultaneously traveling to k. On this basis, we define the force of infection as$${lambda }_{i}=mathop{sum }limits_{j=1}^{n}{M}_{c,ij}^{S}frac{(1-{epsilon }_{j})left({beta }_{j}^{P}mathop{sum }nolimits_{k = 1}^{n}{M}_{c,kj}^{P}{P}_{k}+{beta }_{j}^{I}mathop{sum }nolimits_{k = 1}^{n}{M}_{c,kj}^{I}{I}_{k}+{beta }_{j}^{A}mathop{sum }nolimits_{k = 1}^{n}{M}_{c,kj}^{A}{A}_{k}right)}{mathop{sum }nolimits_{k = 1}^{n}left({M}_{c,kj}^{S}{S}_{k}+{M}_{c,kj}^{E}{E}_{k}+{M}_{c,kj}^{P}{P}_{k}+{M}_{c,kj}^{I}{I}_{k}+{M}_{c,kj}^{A}{A}_{k}+{M}_{c,kj}^{R}{R}_{k}right)},$$
    (5)
    where the parameters ({beta }_{j}^{X}) (X ∈ {P, I, A}) are the community-dependent rates of disease transmission from the three infectious classes, ϵj (0 ≤ ϵj ≤ 1 for all j’s) represents the reduction of transmission induced by social distancing, the use of personal protective equipment, and local mobility restrictions if such containment measures are in fact in place, and the terms ({M}_{c,ij}^{X}) (with X ∈ {S, E, P, I, A, R}) describe the epidemiological effects of mobility between i and j in the presence of disease-containment measures. Note that transmission has been assumed to be frequency-dependent.The parameters μ, δX (X ∈ {E, P}), σ, α, η, γX (X ∈ {I, A}), and rX (X ∈ {S, E, P, I, A, R}) are assumed to be community-independent, for they pertain to population demography at the country scale or the clinical course of the disease. By contrast, the transmission rates ({beta }_{i}^{X}) (X ∈ {P, I, A}) and the control parameters, namely the isolation rates ({chi }_{i}^{X}) (X ∈ {E, P, I, A}), the reductions of transmission due to personal protection, social distancing, and local mobility restriction ϵi, and the travel restrictions ξij, are assumed to be possibly community-dependent, thereby reflecting spatial heterogeneities in disease transmission prior to the implementation of containment measures (({beta }_{i}^{X})), testing effort and/or strategy (({chi }_{i}^{X})), local transmission reduction (ϵi), and travel restriction (ξij).Derivation of the basic and control reproduction numbersClose to the DFE, a state in which all individuals are susceptible to the disease (Si = Ni, with Ni being the baseline population size of community i) and all the other epidemiological compartments are empty (({E}_{i}={P}_{i}={I}_{i}={A}_{i}={E}_{i}^{{rm{q}}}={P}_{i}^{{rm{q}}}={I}_{i}^{{rm{h}}}={A}_{i}^{{rm{q}}}={R}_{i}=0) for all i’s), the dynamics of model (Eq. (3)) is described by the linearized system (dot{{bf{x}}}={{bf{J}}}_{{bf{c}}}{bf{x}}), where ({bf{x}}={[{S}_{i},{E}_{i},{P}_{i},{I}_{i},{A}_{i},{E}_{i}^{{rm{q}}},{P}_{i}^{{rm{q}}},{I}_{i}^{{rm{h}}},{A}_{i}^{{rm{q}}},{R}_{i}]}^{T}) (where i = 1…n and the superscript T denotes matrix transposition) and Jc is the spatial Jacobian matrix$${{bf{J}}}_{{bf{c}}}=left[begin{array}{llllllllll}-mu {bf{I}}&{bf{0}}&-{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}&-{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}}&-{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{E}}}&{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}&{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}}&{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&{delta }^{E}{bf{I}}&-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&sigma {delta }^{P}{bf{I}}&-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&(1-sigma ){delta }^{P}{bf{I}}&{bf{0}}&-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&{{boldsymbol{chi }}}^{{bf{E}}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&-(mu +{delta }^{E}){bf{I}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{{boldsymbol{chi }}}^{{bf{P}}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{delta }^{E}{bf{I}}&-(mu +{delta }^{P}){bf{I}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&eta {bf{I}}+{{boldsymbol{chi }}}^{{bf{I}}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&sigma {delta }^{P}{bf{I}}&-(mu +alpha +{gamma }^{I}){bf{I}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{{boldsymbol{chi }}}^{{bf{A}}}&{bf{0}}&(1-sigma ){delta }^{P}{bf{I}}&{bf{0}}&-(mu +{gamma }^{A}){bf{I}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{gamma }^{I}{bf{I}}&{gamma }^{A}{bf{I}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{gamma }^{I}{bf{I}}&{gamma }^{A}{bf{I}}&-mu {bf{I}}end{array}right],$$
    (6)
    where I and 0 are the identity and null matrices of size n, respectively, ({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{X}}}) (X ∈ {E, P, I, A}) are diagonal matrices whose non-zero elements are (mu +{delta }^{E}+{chi }_{i}^{E}) (for ({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{E}}})), (mu +{delta }^{P}+{chi }_{i}^{P}) (for ({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}})), (mu +alpha +eta +{gamma }^{I}+{chi }_{i}^{I}) (for ({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}})), and (mu +{gamma }^{A}+{chi }_{i}^{A}) (for ({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}})), and the matrices ({{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{X}}}) (X ∈ {P, I, A}) are given by$${{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{X}}}={bf{N}}{{bf{M}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{S}}}({bf{I}}-{boldsymbol{epsilon }}){{boldsymbol{beta }}}^{{bf{X}}}{({{boldsymbol{Delta }}}_{{bf{c}}})}^{-1}{({{bf{M}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{X}}})}^{T},$$
    (7)
    where N is a diagonal matrix whose non-zero elements are the population sizes Ni, ({{bf{M}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{X}}}=[{M}_{c,ij}^{X}]) (X ∈ {S, P, I, A}) are sub-stochastic matrices representing the spatially explicit contact terms in the presence of containment measures, ϵ is a diagonal matrix whose non-zero entries are the transmission reductions ϵi, βX (X ∈ {P, I, A}) are diagonal matrices whose non-zero elements are the contact rates ({beta }_{i}^{X}), and Δc is a diagonal matrix whose non-zero entries are the elements of vector ({bf{u}}{bf{N}}{{bf{M}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{S}}}), with u being a unitary row vector of size n.Because of its block-triangular structure, it is immediate to see that Jc has 6n strictly negative eigenvalues, namely −μ, with multiplicity 2n, and −(μ + δE),−(μ + δP), −(μ + α + γI), and −(μ + γA), each with multiplicity n. Therefore, the asymptotic stability properties of the DFE of model (Eq. (3)), which determine whether long-term disease circulation in the presence of controls is possible, are linked to the eigenvalues of a reduced-order spatial Jacobian associated with the infection subsystem, i.e., the subset of state variables directly related to disease transmission, in this case {E1, …, En, P1, …, Pn, I1, …, In, A1, …, An}. Note that introducing waning immunity would not change the spectral properties of the Jacobian matrix evaluated at the DFE. The reduced-order Jacobian ({{bf{J}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{* }) thus reads$${{bf{J}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{* }=left[begin{array}{llll}-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{E}}}&{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}&{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}}&{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}}\ {delta }^{E}{bf{I}}&-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&sigma {delta }^{P}{bf{I}}&-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&(1-sigma ){delta }^{P}{bf{I}}&{bf{0}}&-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}}end{array}right].$$
    (8)
    The asymptotic stability properties of the DFE can be assessed through a NGM approach22,37. In fact, the spectral radius of the NGM provides an estimate of the so-called control reproduction number58, ({{mathcal{R}}}_{{rm{c}}}), which can be thought of as the average number of secondary infections produced by one infected individual in a completely susceptible population in the presence of disease-containment measures. Clearly, if ({{mathcal{R}}}_{{rm{c}}}, > , 1) the pathogen can invade the population in the long run, and endemic transmission will eventually be established despite the implementation of disease-containment measures. To evaluate ({{mathcal{R}}}_{{rm{c}}}) for model (Eq. (3)), the Jacobian of the infection subsystem can be decomposed into a spatial transmission matrix$${{bf{T}}}_{{bf{c}}}=left[begin{array}{llll}{bf{0}}&{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}&{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}}&{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}}\ {bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}end{array}right],$$
    (9)
    and a transition matrix$${{boldsymbol{Sigma }}}_{{bf{c}}}=left[begin{array}{llll}-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{E}}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {delta }^{E}{bf{I}}&-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&sigma {delta }^{P}{bf{I}}&-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&(1-sigma ){delta }^{P}{bf{I}}&{bf{0}}&-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}}end{array}right],$$
    (10)
    so that Jc = Tc + Σc. The spatial NGM with large domain ({{bf{K}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{L}}}), including variables other than the states-at-infection59 (i.e., the exposed individuals Ei) thus reads$${{bf{K}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{L}}}=-{{bf{T}}}_{{bf{c}}}{({{mathbf{Sigma }}}_{{bf{c}}})}^{-1}=left[begin{array}{llll}{{bf{K}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{1}}}&{{bf{K}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{2}}}&{{bf{K}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{3}}}&{{bf{K}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{4}}}\ {bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}end{array}right],$$
    (11)
    with$${{bf{K}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{1}}} ={delta }^{E}left[{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}+sigma {delta }^{P}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}}{({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}})}^{-1}+(1-sigma ){delta }^{P}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}}{({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}})}^{-1}right]{({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{E}}})}^{-1}{({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}})}^{-1}\ {{bf{K}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{2}}} =left[{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}+sigma {delta }^{P}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}}{({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}})}^{-1}+(1-sigma ){delta }^{P}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}}{({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}})}^{-1}right]{({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}})}^{-1}\ {{bf{K}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{3}}} ={{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}}{({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}})}^{-1}\ {{bf{K}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{4}}} ={{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}}{({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}})}^{-1}.$$
    (12)
    Because of the peculiar block-triangular structure of ({{bf{K}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{L}}}), the spatial NGM with small domain (Kc, accounting only for Ei) is simply ({{bf{K}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{1}}}) (see again Diekmann et al.59). The control reproduction number can thus be found as the spectral radius of the NGM (with either large or small domain), i.e.,$${{mathcal{R}}}_{{rm{c}}}=rho ({{bf{K}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{L}}})=rho ({{bf{K}}}_{{bf{c}}})=rho ({{bf{G}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}+{{bf{G}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}}+{{bf{G}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}}),$$
    (13)
    where$${{bf{G}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}} ={delta }^{E}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}{({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{E}}}{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}})}^{-1}\ {{bf{G}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}} =sigma {delta }^{E}{delta }^{P}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}}{({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{E}}}{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}})}^{-1}\ {{bf{G}}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}} =(1-sigma ){delta }^{E}{delta }^{P}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}}{({{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{E}}}{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}})}^{-1}$$
    (14)
    are three spatially explicit generation matrices describing the contributions of post-latent infectious people, infectious symptomatic people, and asymptomatic/paucisymptomatic infectious people to the next generation of infections in a neighborhood of the DFE in the presence of disease-containment measures.In the absence of controls, i.e., if the isolation rates ({chi }_{i}^{X}) (X ∈ {E, P, I, A}), the transmission reductions ϵi, and the travel restrictions ξij are equal to zero for all i’s and j’s, then the control reproduction number ({{mathcal{R}}}_{{rm{c}}}) reduces to the basic reproduction number ({{mathcal{R}}}_{0}), defined as the average number of secondary infections produced by one infected individual in a population that is completely susceptible to the disease and where no containment measures are in place. ({{mathcal{R}}}_{0}) can be evaluated as the spectral radius of matrix GP + GI + GA, where$${{bf{G}}}^{{bf{P}}} ={delta }^{E}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}^{{bf{P}}}{({{boldsymbol{phi }}}^{{bf{E}}}{{boldsymbol{phi }}}^{{bf{P}}})}^{-1}\ {{bf{G}}}^{{bf{I}}} =sigma {delta }^{E}{delta }^{P}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}^{{bf{I}}}{({{boldsymbol{phi }}}^{{bf{E}}}{{boldsymbol{phi }}}^{{bf{P}}}{{boldsymbol{phi }}}^{{bf{I}}})}^{-1}\ {{bf{G}}}^{{bf{A}}} =(1-sigma ){delta }^{E}{delta }^{P}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}^{{bf{A}}}{({{boldsymbol{phi }}}^{{bf{E}}}{{boldsymbol{phi }}}^{{bf{P}}}{{boldsymbol{phi }}}^{{bf{A}}})}^{-1}.$$
    (15)
    In the previous set of expressions, ϕX (X ∈ {E, P, I, A}) are diagonal matrices whose non-zero elements are μ + δE (for ϕE), μ + δP (for ϕP), μ + α + η + γI (for ϕI), and μ + γA (for ϕA), while matrices θX (X ∈ {P, I, A}) are given by ({bf{N}}{{bf{M}}}^{{bf{S}}}{{boldsymbol{beta }}}^{{bf{X}}}{({boldsymbol{Delta }})}^{-1}{({{bf{M}}}^{{bf{X}}})}^{T}), with ({{bf{M}}}^{{bf{X}}}=[{M}_{ij}^{X}]) (X ∈ {S, P, I, A}) and ({M}_{ij}^{X}={M}_{c,ij}^{X}) evaluated with ξij = 0 for all i’s and j’s, and Δ is a diagonal matrix whose non-zero entries are the elements of vector uNMS.Derivation of basic and control epidemicity indicesThe concept of epidemicity26 extends previous work24,25 where a reactivity index was defined and applied to study the transient dynamics of ecological systems characterized by steady-state behavior. To explain, in physical terms, the meaning of reactivity and of the Hermitian matrix used to derive it, consider a linear system dx/dt = Ax, where ({bf{x}}={({x}_{1},ldots ,{x}_{n})}^{T}) is the state vector and A is a n × n real state matrix. The system is subject to pulse perturbations x(0) = x0  > 0. Reactivity is defined as the gradient of the Euclidean norm (| | {bf{x}}| | =sqrt{{x}_{1}^{2}+cdots +{x}_{n}^{2}}=sqrt{{{bf{x}}}^{T}{bf{x}}}) of the state vector, evaluated for the fastest-growing initial perturbation, and corresponds to the spectral abscissa ({{{Lambda }}}_{max }^{{rm{Re}}}(cdot )) of the Hermitian part (A + AT)/2 of matrix A24. Following Mari et al.25, an asymptotically stable equilibrium is characterized by positive generalized reactivity if there exist small perturbations that can lead to a transient growth in the Euclidean norm of a suitable system output y = Wx, with matrix W describing a linear transformation of the system state.In epidemiological applications, W should include the variables of the infection subsystem26. Therefore, a suitable output transformation for the problem at hand is$${bf{W}}=left[begin{array}{llllllllll}{bf{0}}&{w}^{E}{bf{I}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{w}^{P}{bf{I}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{w}^{I}{bf{I}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}\ {bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{w}^{A}{bf{I}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}&{bf{0}}end{array}right],$$
    (16)
    where wE, wP, wI, wA are the weights assigned to the variables of the infection subsystem in the output ({bf{y}}=[{w}^{E}{E}_{1},ldots ,{w}^{E}{E}_{n},{w}^{P}{P}_{1},ldots ,{w}^{P}{P}_{n},{w}^{I}{I}_{1},ldots ,{w}^{I}{I}_{n},{w}^{A}{A}_{1},ldots ,{w}^{A}{A}_{n}]^{T}). Generalized reactivity for the DFE of system (Eq. (3)) is positive if the spectral abscissa of a suitable Hermitian matrix (either H0 or Hc, depending on whether the spread of disease is uncontrolled or some containment measures are in place) is also positive. In SEPIAR, the expressions of matrices H0 and Hc are far from trivial, as shown below, and the evaluation of spectral abscissae typically requires numerical techniques. Note also that, since recovered individuals are not accounted for in the system output, including waning immunity would not alter the epidemicity properties of the DFE.Let us consider the most general case of disease-containment measures being in place (which includes as a limit case also uncontrolled pathogen spread). If we note that (ker ({bf{W}})=ker ({bf{W}}{{bf{J}}}_{{bf{c}}})), with Jc being the Jacobian of SEPIAR at the DFE in the presence of controls, matrix Hc can be defined25,27 as the Hermitian part of WJc(W)+, i.e.,$${{bf{H}}}_{{bf{c}}}=H({bf{W}}{{bf{J}}}_{{bf{c}}}{({bf{W}})}^{+})=frac{1}{2}left{{bf{W}}{{bf{J}}}_{{bf{c}}}{({bf{W}})}^{+}+{[{({bf{W}})}^{+}]}^{T}{({{bf{J}}}_{{bf{c}}})}^{T}{({bf{W}})}^{T}right},$$
    (17)
    where (W)+ is the right pseudo-inverse (a generalization of the concept of inverse for non-square matrices) of W, and can be evaluated as$${({bf{W}})}^{+}={({bf{W}})}^{T}{[{bf{W}}{({bf{W}})}^{T}]}^{-1}.$$
    (18)
    Matrix$${{bf{H}}}_{{bf{c}}}=left[begin{array}{llll}-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{E}}}&frac{{w}^{P}}{2{w}^{E}}{delta }^{E}{bf{I}}+frac{{w}^{E}}{2{w}^{P}}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}&frac{{w}^{E}}{2{w}^{I}}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}}&frac{{w}^{E}}{2{w}^{A}}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}}\ frac{{w}^{P}}{2{w}^{E}}{delta }^{E}{bf{I}}+frac{{w}^{E}}{2{w}^{P}}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}&-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{P}}}&frac{{w}^{I}}{2{w}^{P}}sigma {delta }^{P}{bf{I}}&frac{{w}^{A}}{2{w}^{P}}(1-sigma ){delta }^{P}{bf{I}}\ frac{{w}^{E}}{2{w}^{I}}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}}&frac{{w}^{I}}{2{w}^{P}}sigma {delta }^{P}{bf{I}}&-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{I}}}&{bf{0}}\ frac{{w}^{E}}{2{w}^{A}}{{boldsymbol{theta }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}}&frac{{w}^{A}}{2{w}^{P}}(1-sigma ){delta }^{P}{bf{I}}&{bf{0}}&-{{boldsymbol{phi }}}_{{bf{c}}}^{{bf{A}}}end{array}right]$$
    (19)
    is Hermitian, hence real and symmetric. Therefore all eigenvalues are real and the spectral abscissa ({e}_{{rm{c}}}={{{Lambda }}}_{max }^{{rm{Re}}}({{bf{H}}}_{{bf{c}}})) coincides with the largest eigenvalue, which corresponds to the fastest-growing perturbation in the system output. Thus, ec can be interpreted as a control epidemicity index: if ec  > 0, there must exist some small perturbations to the DFE that are temporarily amplified in the system output, thus generating a transient, subthreshold epidemic wave.Absent any containment measures, the control epidemicity index, ec, reduces to the basic epidemicity index, ({e}_{0}={{{Lambda }}}_{max }^{{rm{Re}}}({{bf{H}}}_{{bf{0}}})), where$${{bf{H}}}_{{bf{0}}}=H({bf{W}}{{bf{J}}}_{{bf{0}}}{({bf{W}})}^{+})=frac{1}{2}left{{bf{W}}{{bf{J}}}_{{bf{0}}}{({bf{W}})}^{+}+{[{({bf{W}})}^{+}]}^{T}{({{bf{J}}}_{{bf{0}}})}^{T}{({bf{W}})}^{T}right}$$
    (20)
    and the Jacobian matrix J0 can be obtained from Jc by setting equal to zero the isolation rates ({chi }_{i}^{X}) (X ∈ {E, P, I, A}), the transmission reductions ϵi, and the travel restrictions ξij for all i’s and j’s.The effective reproduction number and the effective epidemicity indexThe reproduction numbers and the epidemicity indices defined above can be rigorously applied only to characterize the spread of disease in a fully naïve population (Si = Ni ∀ i). As soon as the pathogen begins to circulate within the population, the state of the system gradually departs from the DFE. Under these circumstances, it is customary19,21 to define a time-dependent, effective reproduction number, ({mathcal{R}}(t)), to track the number of secondary infections caused by a single infectious individual in a population in which the pool of susceptible individuals is progressively depleted, and control measures are possibly in place58. Similarly, it is possible to define an effective epidemicity index, e(t), to evaluate the likelihood that transient epidemic waves may occur even if ({mathcal{R}}(t), More

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    Spatial and temporal analysis of cumulative environmental effects of offshore wind farms in the North Sea basin

    The area of study (Fig. 6) was the Greater North Sea ecoregion, which includes the EEZs of six countries (England, Scotland, the Netherlands, Denmark, Norway and Germany). The Kattegat area, the English Channel, and the Belgium EEZ were omitted from the study area. The North Sea Marine Ecosystem is a large semi-closed continental sea situated on the continental shelf of North-western Europe, with a dominant physical division between the comparatively deep northern part (50–200 m, with the Norwegian Trench dropping to 700 m) and the shallower southern part (20–50 m)48. The North Sea is one of the most varied coastal regions in the world, which is characterised by, among others, rocky, fjord and mountainous shores as well as sandy beaches with dunes48. Apart from the marine seabirds feeding primarily in the coastal areas, under 5 km from the coast (e.g., terns, sea-ducks, grebes), the North Sea basin also hosts pelagic birds feeding further offshore, with some also diving for food (guillemot, razorbill, etc.). The North Sea basin is also a major habitat for four marine mammal species, of which the harbour porpoise and harbour seal are the most common. Moreover, fish ecology has been a widely studied topic, especially for commercial species, due to evidence of a decline in the fish stock, such as sprat, whiting, bib, and mackerel. Fish communities, and in particular the small pelagic fish group (such as European sprat, European pilchard), play also a key ecologic role, constituting the main pray for most piscivorous fishes, cetacean and seabirds49, Based on early surveys, the predominant species divided by the three North Sea fish communities are: saithe (43.6% in the shelf edge), haddock (42.4% in the central North Sea, 11.6% in the shelf edge), whiting (21.6% in the eastern North Sea, 13.9% central North Sea), and dab (21.8% in the eastern North Sea)34. More recent assessments of North Sea fish community are emphasizing the clear geographical distinction between the fish species living in the southern part of the North Sea, a shallow area with high primary production and pronounced seasonality, and northern part, a deeper area with lower primary production and lower seasonal variation in temperature and salinity. The southern North Sea fish community is represented by fish species such as lesser weever, while the northern North Sea fish community is represented by species such as saithe, with species like whitting, haddock representative for the North–West subdivision, and the European plaice having the highest abundance in the South–East community50. The future fish stock and spatial distribution is however uncertain due to impacts of climate change related factors (e.g., growing temperatures)49 and overexploitation.Figure 6Offshore wind farm prospects (existing/authorised/planned) in the North Sea basin.Full size imageThe most prominent human activities in the North Sea basin are fishing, coastal construction, maritime transport, oil and gas exploration and production, tourism, military, and OWF construction38. Within this list, the construction of OWFs has seen a rapid increase, aiming to reach a total cumulative installed capacity of 61.8–66.8 GW by 203051. As indicated in Fig. 6, the new designated/search/scoping areas for the location of future OWFs will significantly increase the current space reserved for the offshore production of renewable energy in the North Sea basin.Spatio-temporal database of OWF developments in the North Sea basinFor the input of the geo-spatial layers with the location of OWF areas we compiled a comprehensive spatial data repository in QGIS containing the shapefiles of analysed OWF, from 1999 to 2027 (last year of available official information on OWF development, Appendix D). The analysis was performed for the North Sea geographic area, referred here as the basin scale, taking into account the cumulative pressures from individual OWF projects (project scale). The main data sources for geospatial information for OWF, for the entire North Sea basin, are EMODnet (Human Activities data portal) and OSPAR, which were complemented by data on the country level, where needed; i.e. from Crown Estate Scotland (Energy infrastructure, Legal Agreements), Rijkswaterstaat for the Netherlands. From the available geo-spatial data for OWF, we selected the OWF in our area of study (Fig. 6) with the status of consent-authorised, authorised, pre-construction, under construction, or fully commissioned (operational). Therefore, planned OWF such as Vesterhavet Syd and Vesterhavet Nord, for which the start date of construction is still unknown, were not included in the analysis. Similarly, for the Horns Rev 3 OWF no geo-referenced spatial footprint was available in the open-access data sets, and therefore it was not included in the analysis.The collected OWF geospatial data was aggregated to create a geospatial database, for the studied period of 1999–2050, composed by the following attributes: code name, country, name, production capacity (MW), area (({mathrm{km}}^{2})), number of turbines, start operation (year), installation time, and status in the period 1999–2050 (construction, operation, decommissioning). The created geospatial dataset was additionally cross-checked for integrity with the information provided through the online platform 4coffshore.com.The lack of data regarding the construction time was complemented with the methodology proposed by Lacal-Arántegui et al.36. Based on this research, we calculated the time required for OWF construction phase related activities multiplying 1.06 days by the known production capacity (total MW) for each analysed OWF.The average time of operation is considered to be 20 years, probably profitably extendable to 25 years, as stated in a number of studies on the cycle of offshore wind farms52. For this case study, the operation time considered is 20 years (subject to change). Since there is little experience with the decommissioning of offshore wind farms (only a few OWFs have so far been decommissioned in the UK and Denmark), the decommissioning time is not yet clear. There are a number of parameters that influence the decommissioning time, which are: the number of turbines, the foundation type, the distance to port, etc. It is estimated that the time taken for decommissioning should be around 50–60% less than the installation time37. Our study considers the decommissioning time as 50% of the construction time.Time-aware cumulative effects assessmentIn this study, Tools4MSP53,54, a Python-based Free and Open Source Software (FOSS) for geospatial analysis in support of Maritime Spatial Planning and marine environmental management, was used for the assessment of the impacts of OWFs on the marine ecosystem, in the three development stages. We applied the Tools4MSP CEA module to the OWF of the North Sea basin for the period 1999–2050, taking into account the full life cycle of the OWF development, namely the construction, operation and decommissioning phases. The modified methodology from Menegon et al.31 and subsequent implementation55, proposes to calculate the CEA score for each cell of analysis as follows (Eqs. 1, 2):$$CEA=sum_{k=1}^{n}d({E}_{k}) sum_{j=1}^{m}{s}_{i,j} eff({P}_{j}{E}_{k})$$
    (1)
    where eff is the effect of pressure P over the environmental component E and is defined as follows:$$eff left({P}_{j}{E}_{k}right)=(sum_{i=1}^{l}{w}_{i,j} i({U}_{i},{M}_{i,j,k})){^{prime}}$$
    (2)
    whereas,

    ({U}_{i}) defines the human activity, namely the OWF activity in the study area

    ({E}_{k}) defines the environmental components of the study area described in the Table 1

    ({d(E}_{k})) defines intensity or presence/absence of the k-th environmental component

    ({P}_{j}) defines the pressures exerted by human activities dependent on the three different OWF development phases (Annex B)

    ({w}_{i,j}) refers to the specific pressure weight according to the OWF phase

    ({s(P}_{j}, {E}_{k})) is the sensitivity of the k-th environmental component to the j-th pressure

    ({i({U}_{i, }M({U}_{i, }P}_{j}, {E}_{k}))) is the distance model propagating j-th pressure caused by i-th activity over the k-th environmental component

    ({M(U}_{i}, {P}_{j})) is the 2D Gaussian kernel function used for convolution, which considers buffer distances at 1 km, 5 km, 10 km, 20 km, and 50 km56.

    Table 1 Primary sources for the environmental component data sets.Full size tableIn Eq. (3), the CEA 1999–2050 describes the modelling over the time frame 1999–2050, whereas ({CEA}_{t}) is the cumulative effect of year t within the timeframe 1999–2050:$${CEA}_{1999-2050}= sum_{t=1999}^{2050}{CEA}_{t}$$In this study, each final CEA score was normalised. To normalise the value of each initial CEA score obtained using the Eq. (1), we calculated its percentage of the sum of all CEA scores for all OWFs in the three development phases, period spanning the period 1999–2050 (({CEA}_{1999-2050})).Environmental componentsThe selection of the environmental components (receptors) impacted by the identified pressures is an essential part of the scoping phase for OWF location, as monitoring the status (distribution, abundance) of different identified species represents a relevant indicator for the ecosystem status. For the evaluation of the habitats and species that can be affected by the cumulative ecological effects of OWF, we adapted the methodology of Meissl et al.14. Therefore, we selected the environmental components based first on their: (1) ecological value, supported by legal documents identifying species protected by law or through various national and international agreements (e.g. EU Habitats Directive, Wild Mammals (Protection) Act (UK), see Table 1 in Appendix E), to which we added species with (2) commercial value, but also with a (3) broad geographic-scale habitat occurrence of the species in the studied area, based on previous studies35 and on 35 EIA studies for OWF in the North Sea basin.Among the five fish species selected, sprat and sandeel play key roles in the marine food web (small pelagic fish), as prey source for piscivorous fish, cetacean and birds. The ecological value of sandeel, sprat, whiting and saither is also highlighted through EU or national protection agreements such as Priority Marine Features—PMF or Scottish/UK Biodiversity list (see Appendix E, Table 2). The list is completed by haddock, one of the fish species with commercial importance, highly dominant in the Central North Sea. With regards to the spatial occurrence at the basin level, the fish species selected are representative for both of the two distinct North Sea communities50, the southern part of the North Sea (sprat), and the northern and north-west part (haddock, whiting, saithe).The three selected seabird species are of ecological importance for the marine ecosystem, as indicated through the European, national and international protection agreements, such as the EU Birds Directive Migratory Species or the IUCN Red List (see Appendix E, Table 1). While razorbill and guillemot have similar feeding and flying patterns (low flight, catch pray underwater), there is evidence of different behaviors towards OWFs, with relatively more avoidance from razorbill compared to guillemot. In relation to the spatial distribution of the three selected species, there is a clear distinction between razorbill, highly present in the coastal areas of west North Sea basin, guillemot, with a relatively even distribution across the marine basin, and fulmar, one of the 4 most common seabirds in the studied area, in particular in the central and N–E parts.In the marine mammals category we selected the harbor porpoise, indicated to be one of the most impacted species in this category57, with a high occurrence in the North Sea basin. Its ecological value is emphasized by its presence in European and international lists for habitat protection, such as EU Habitats Directive58, OSPAR List of Threatened and/or Declining Species59, the Agreement on the Conservation of Small Cetaceans in the Baltic and the North Seas (ASCOBANS)60. The harbor porpoise is the protected species in numerous Natura 2000 areas in the North Sea basin, such as the Spatial Area of Conservation Southern North Sea61 (British EEZ) or The Special area of Protection Kleverbank62 (Dutch EEZ).Among the selected fish species, sandeel had the highest occurrence in EIA studies of OWF developments (23 out of 35), while guillemot had the highest occurrence among seabird species (25 out of 35). With an occurrence of 26 out of the 35 analysed EIA document, the harbour porpoise is the most studied mammal in relation to the impact of OWF.As a result, we selected three EUNIS marine seabed habitat types (European Union Nature Information System)58 (Appendix E, Table 2), three seabird species, one mammal species and five fish species (Appendix E, Table 1). The list can be extended; however, for this exercise we considered it sufficient.The data sets used to represent the spatial distribution (presence/absence, intensity) of the environmental components in the studied area were obtained from multiple sources and were used in the Tools4MSP model either directly (EUNIS habitats, marine mammals, seabirds) or further processed using a predictive distribution model (fish species). In the case of EUNIS marine habitats, the data source was the online geo-portal EMODnet, through the Seabed Habitat service (Table 1), which provided GIS polygon layers for each habitat type and was further used to indicate presence/absence of a specific habitat.For the distribution of the selected mammal species, the harbour porpoise, we used the modelling results of Waggit et al.16, translated into maps for the prediction of densities (nr. animals/({mathrm{km}}^{2})). The mapping approach starts with collating data from available surveys, which are further standardised with regards to transect length, number of platform sides, and the effective strip width. Finally, the standardised data sets were used in a binomial and a Poisson model, in association with environmental conditions (Table 1), in order to deliver a homogenous cover of species distribution maps, on 10 km × 10 km spatial resolution grid16.For the distribution of the selected seabird species (razorbill, fulmar, guillemot), we used the results of the SEAPOP program (http://www.seapop.no/en/distribution-status/), through the open-source data portal (https://www2.nina.no/seapop/seapophtml/). The proposed methodology for creating the occurrence density prediction maps, on a 10 × 10 km spatial resolution grid, starts with the modelling of the presence/absence of birds using a binomial distribution and “logit link”. This was followed by the modelling of the number of birds using a Gamma distribution with a “log link” function, which also took into account geographically fixed explanatory variables (geographic position, water depth, and distance to coast).The predictive model for the spatial distribution of fish species biomass (haddock, sandeel, whiting, saithe, sprat) was developed using AI4Blue software, an open-source, python-based library for Artificial Intelligence based geospatial analysis of Blue Growth settings (AI4Blue, 2021)63. The model was based on two types of inputs: (1) the observation data on the presence of species and (2) data on the absence of species (absence data) for the period 2000–2019. Both data types were extracted by the ICES North Sea International Bottom Trawl Survey (NSI-IBTS, extracted survey year 2000–2019 including all available quarters) for commercial fish species, which was accessed on the online ICES-DATRAS database64. Data was extracted using two DATRAS web service Application Programming Interfaces (APIs): (1) the HHData, that returns detailed haul-based meta-data of the survey (e.g. haul position, sampling method etc.) and (2) the CPUEPerLengthPerHaulPerHour for the catch/unit of effort per length of sampled species.The presence data were represented by the catch/unit of effort (CPUE), expressed in kg of biomass of the specified species per one hour of hauling. The biomass was estimated by using the SAMLK (sex-maturity-age-length keys) dataset for ICES standard species. This approach is a viable alternative to presence-only data models, as it tackles the biased outcomes resulting from an non-uniform marine coverage of the data sets (mainly along the shipping routes)65. The absence data were estimated using the methodology presented by Coro et al.65, which detects absence location for the chosen species as the locations in which repeated surveys (with the selected species on the survey’s species target list) report information only on other species.Additionally, the predictive model automatically correlates the presence/absence data with environmental conditions (Appendix E, Table 3) data to more accurately estimate the likelihood of species presence in the North Sea basin. Intersecting a large number of surveys containing observation data on the presence of selected species can return the true absence data locations, which represent a valuable indicator for geographical areas with unsuitable habitat (see methodology by Coro et al.65). Those locations were estimated from abiotic and biotic parameters and differed to the sampling absences which were estimated from surveys without presence data65. The environmental conditions (Appendix E, Table 2) data were accessed through direct queries using the MOTU Client option from the Marine Copernicus database. In order to input the layers to the CEA calculation, the input layer for the biomass was transformed using log[x + 1] to avoid an over-dominance of extreme values and all datasets rescaled from 0 to 1 in order to allow direct comparison on a single, unit-less scale55.The rescaled special distribution of biomass for the selected species are presented in Appendix F (Fig. a–j).OWF pressures and relative weightsA systematic literature review was conducted to reach a first quantification of the OWF pressure weights (({w}_{i,j}),) in the construction, operation, and decommissioning phases (({U}_{i})). The OWF-related pressures specific to each of the phases of the OWF life cycle were based on the comprehensive analysis of all the existing Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) methodologies used in the North Sea countries14. The review enabled the collection of 18 pressures that were subsequently compared and merged with the pressures established in the Marine Strategy Framework Directive, applied by the EU countries in the assessment of environmental impacts66. Figure 7 illustrates the impact chain linking the three OWF development phases with the exerted 18 pressures and the 12 selected environmental components impacted.Figure 7Impact chain defining OWF phases-pressure-environmental components analysed in the North Sea (the strength of the link between pressures and environmental components is proportional to the sensitivity scores. The order is descending from the pressures with highest impact, as well as from the environmental components most affected).Full size imageSensitivity in this research is defined as the likelihood of change when a pressure is applied to a receptor (environmental component) and is a function of the ability of the receptor to adapt, tolerate or resist change and its ability to recover from the impact67. The criteria for assessing the sensitivities of environmental components is based on MarLIN (Marine Life Information Network) detailed criteria (https://www.marlin.ac.uk/sensitivity/sensitivity_rationale).We validated the weights of pressures (({w}_{i,j}) from 0 to 5) and scores of environmental components sensitivities (({s(P}_{j}, {E}_{k})) from 0 to 5), as well as the distance of pressure propagation (≤1000 m to ≥ 25,000 m), through a series of 4 questionnaires for the marine mammals, seabirds, fish and seabed habitats. The compiled questionnaires were further validated through semi-interviews of 9 experts in the field of marine ecology, spatial planning, environmental impact assessment and offshore wind energy development. The expert-based questionnaires also included a confidence level for the proposed scores, which ranged between 0.2 (very low confidence: based on expert judgement; proxy assessment) and 1 (very high confidence: based on peer reviewed papers, report, assessment on the same receptor). The confidence level was used in determining the final scores for the pressure weights and species sensitivities. The final scores for weights and sensitivity scores were identified either by calculating the mean value (for cases where literature review scores and expert scores differed by  > 2 units) or selecting the higher value—precautionary principle (for cases where scores from different sources differed by  More

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    Infection effects of the new microsporidian species Tubulinosema suzukii on its host Drosophila suzukii

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    The expansion of Acheulean hominins into the Nefud Desert of Arabia

    An Nasim consists of deep and narrow interdunal basin in which a sequence of aeolian sands overlain by bedded lacustrine marl is preserved (Figs. 2, S1). In the central part of the An Nasim basin, outcrops of these deposits are exposed extending approximately 800 m north–south and 350 m east–west. The marl outcrops are, however, fragmented and discontinuous, occurring at several distinct altitudes (Fig. S1). The thickest visible exposures of marl are found along the basin’s eastern edge (Figs. 2, 3, S1). At the base of these exposures, the deposits express the morphology of the former interdune depression in which they accumulated, in the form of a concave surface dipping steeply away from the edge of the observable outcrops towards the centre of the basin within which they formed. The stratigraphy of the deposits also dips towards the centre of this palaeobasin, indicative of sediments being deposited in a quiescent water body and draping across the existing topography. The western edge of the deposit is at ~ 930 m above sea level (MASL) and has been deeply eroded, forming a small cliff (maximum of 4 m high) providing a thick exposure of lake sediments. Large ‘boulders’ of sediment at the base of this cliff have been dislodged and transported down-slope towards the centre of the current interdune depression. The marls are thickest at the western edge, which likely lay towards the centre of their contemporary interdune palaeobasin, and thin in an easterly direction towards its edges (0.5 m at their thinnest). The thickness of the marl deposits in the central area is exceptional in comparison to previously excavated comparable late Middle and Late Pleistocene deposits found elsewhere in the western Nefud22,24,25. An additional area of palaeolake deposit exists immediately to the south of the primary exposure at the same altitude, likely a continuation of the same deposit in an area that has experienced differential erosion.Figure 2Stratigraphic sequence of An Nasim and artefact distributions. (a) stratigraphy with the locations of the sediment samples dated by luminescence; (b) Lower Palaeolithic artefacts at An Nasim, mapped through systematic survey of the current interdune and recorded using a differential GPS system. The stratigraphic sequence was drawn from the location of the handaxe in Layer 12. Produced using ArcMap version 10.2. Basemap from Bing Maps Aerial, (c) 2010 Microsoft Corporation and its data suppliers.Full size imageFigure 3Different handaxe forms from An Nasim. Credit: Ian Cartwright.Full size imageThe undulating lower contact and complex bedding geometry of the lake sediments reflect the accumulation of these sediments over a pre-existing aeolian dune topography. In this context, the marl sediment precipitates from the water column, falls out of suspension and, consequently, accumulates in thick beds that drape over the sand dune forms that are preserved on the lake bed. These beds consequently dip into the centre of the basin and undulate throughout the exposure. The dip of the marl beds means that units that occur several meters below the surface at the western section edge are found at the land surface on the eastern basin margin. Of particular relevance to this study is the fact that the marl-rich sand bed that is found near the surface of the marl unit at the outcrop edge, containing lithics in stratigraphic position, can be traced laterally and is found to occur 3 m below the surface towards the centre of the basin (Fig. 3).The massive marl beds at the base of the section (Fig. 2a) indicate deep water conditions, while towards the top of the sequence the interdigitation of beds of marl and sand, with associated desiccation cracks, are typical of a shallower water body that experienced episodic drying (Figs. 2a, S1). The upper layers 11 and 12 are laterally extensive and contain lithics in stratigraphic position within horizontally bedded sands (Layer 11) overlain by a thin bed of marl (Layer 12—Fig. S1). This sequence suggests falling water level and sheet wash deposition of sands from the surrounding landscape, followed by a small subsequent rise in water level. The sedimentology of the upper part of the primary marl sequence, and in particular that of unit 11, within which a stratified lithic was found, is therefore consistent with the occupation of the site during a drier phase featuring low lake levels.In arid environments, where reworking is widespread, it is often difficult to demonstrate that lithic artefacts are contemporaneous with the age of the deposit. However, at An Nasim, three observations are important. Firstly, that diagnostic artefacts have been recovered from within the marls and can therefore be directly related to specific strata. Secondly, the size of the lithics (pebble/cobble) is significantly coarser than the grain size of any of the sediments within the host deposits, which are dominated by sands and silts. This observation demonstrates that the processes responsible for depositing these sediments were incapable of transporting and reworking the artefacts. Finally, the surface of the main marl bed is the highest point at the site, meaning that there are no older, higher deposits from which the lithics can be eroded and redeposited in the marl sequence. When these observations are considered the most likely source of the lithics that are found across the surface of the marl bed is the uppermost layers of this unit where stratified archaeology has been directly recovered.At lower altitudes within the current interdune area, additional marl deposits are visible, all of which are much less distinct and appear more degraded than the primary deposit discussed above. Three small exposures of marl exist on the northern flank of the basin between approximately 930 and 923 MASL, potentially peripheral exposures of the massive marls, whilst at the basin centre two distinct large mounds of eroded marl material are present. Mound 1, the northernmost of these, has a curved upper surface, again suggestive of a lake bed deposited in an interdune basin, this time at around 921 MASL (Fig. 2b). Mound 2 (Fig. 2b), to the south, has an indistinct heavily eroded upper surface at ~ 916 MASL, while its relationship to Mound 1 (Fig. 2b) is unclear. Both are eroded, preserved as inverted relief features above the current interdune floor (which lies at 910 MASL) possessing flanks covered with the deflated remnants of the palaeolake deposits. The stratigraphic relationship of these lower deposits to the primary deposit remains unclear due to deflation having created an unconformity between them. However, the morphology of Mound 1, and the lower altitude of these sediments relative to the primary deposit, strongly indicates that they belong to a lacustrine phase distinct from that of the primary deposit. It is likely that they formed in the floor of a later interdune depression, prior to the more recent deflation that created the present interdune area that they lie within. An Nasim thus preserves several discrete phases of lake basin development separated by episodes of aeolian deflation related to cyclic climate change within the western Nefud.The sedimentological observations at An Nasim are in keeping with the picture observed across the wider western Nefud Desert, where the repeated raising of regional groundwater levels during discrete humid intervals produced lakes and wetlands in the interdune depressions13,24. Previous analyses have indicated the these palaeolakes were widespread across the western Nefud, and that despite an absence of evidence for large-scale fluvial activity within the region, the high density of such interdune lakes facilitated hominin dispersals through it11,13.At An Nasim, two discrete concentrations of Lower Palaeolithic artefacts were discovered distributed across the surfaces of the primary deposit, and the lower mounds (Fig. 3). Systematic collection recovered 354 artefacts, primarily handaxes, together with various flakes that included clearly identifiable bifacial thinning flakes (Table 1). The artefacts were found in two main clusters at the site (Fig. 2b) and appear to be eroding out of the marl deposits. All visible artefacts were systematically collected and their locations recorded using a differential GPS (DGPS). However, it should be noted that ever-shifting sands likely hid other artefacts from view, and were therefore not collected. We acknowledge that the assemblage may therefore be biased towards handaxes, which are larger and thicker and therefore less easily buried than flakes. The results of this survey, mapped in Fig. 3, illustrate the close association between the artefacts and the lake.Table 1 Breakdown of artefact classes from An Nasim. Flake numbers are likely an underestimate from the site, as shifting sands hid smaller artefacts from view.Full size tableThe lithic tools are similar to previously reported Acheulean sites in the Nefud Desert21 and consist of relatively thick and finely flaked bifaces (typically triangular and pointed). The artefacts represent the entire bifacial manufacturing sequence, all of which were constructed by thinning out large tabular blocks of ferruginious quartzitic sandstone26. The presence of minimally flaked pieces of these tabular blocks indicate that the raw material was brought to the site, some of it apparently discarded after having been ‘tested’ by the removal of one or two flakes along an edge. Other flaked pieces were very roughly shaped before being abandoned. Many of the handaxes retained the last vestiges of the flat, tabular cortical surface at their centre, often on both faces. The base of the handaxes also frequently retained the thick, flat cortical edge of the tabular block, perhaps to aid grasping. None of the bifaces were made from flakes and there was no evidence of large flake manufacture, perhaps due to the small, tabular nature of the local raw material. Indeed, broader surveys in the Nefud Desert indicate that this local tabular quartzite was frequently used at other undated Acheulean surface assemblages, all of which lacked evidence for large flake manufacture21. This suggests the local raw material impeded this approach to handaxe manufacture.The surface artefacts exhibited a similar high degree of weathering, while the artefacts from buried or recently exposed contexts were fresh. The handaxes were diverse in form, ranging from ovate to cordiform and triangular forms, as at other Acheulean sites in the Nefud21, and variable in size (Fig. 3). All handaxes with observable flake scars showed fine flaking, regardless of form. 2D Geometric Morphometric (GMM) analysis of a random sub-sample of fifty handaxes showed that this form variation was not continuous (Figs. 4, S1, Tables S2–S4). However, no spatial relationship between discrete forms and findspots was observed in the sample.Figure 4Canonical Variates Analysis of Biface form (n = 50) at An Nasim, showing discrete shape groupings corresponding to triangular, ovate and cordiform forms. See Tables S2–S4 for eigenvalues and distances.Full size imageSurvey revealed one face of a stratified handaxe visible in the section in the top 10 cm of the primary marl deposit (Layer 12—Fig. S1). Small-scale excavation in the form of a shallow 1 × 1 m test trench around this location allowed the subsequent recovery of this firmly embedded handaxe. This handaxe was included in the 2D GMM analysis shown in Fig. 3, where it clustered with the cordiform group found on the surface. The tight, shape-based clustering of the cordiform handaxes, along with the similarity of manufacture and raw material indicates that these forms at least, may be regarded as contemporary with each other in the marl. The similarity of manufacture among all the handaxe forms represented at An Nasim may also indicate broad contemporaneity. Digging for a sediment sample for dating purposes also permitted the recovery of a bifacial thinning flake cemented within the sandy Layer 11.A sample for luminescence dating was collected from Layer 11 (NSM1-2017), where archaeology was also recovered (Fig. 2a, See SI), and additional samples were collected beneath the lithic horizon in Layer 8 (NSM1-OSL4) and Layer 7 (NSM1-OSL3). Dose rates for these samples were determined by thick source alpha and beta counting, while gamma dose rates were measured using a field gamma spectrometer (See Table 2, SI, Table S5).Table 2 IR-RF age results.Full size tableThe K-feldspar grains were isolated and then analysed using the infrared-radiofluorescence protocol at controlled temperature (RF70) (See SI 3)27, using the same parameters as described previously19. IR-RF dose and age estimate are reported in Table 1. The overdispersion values (OD) are less than 20%, which is consistent with our prediction for such sediment. The three samples yield ages of 310 ± 17 (NSM1-OSL3), 243 ± 23 ka (NSM1-OSL4) and 330 ± 23 ka (NSM1-2017). These ages are coherent at 2 sigma, however sample NSM1-OSL4 is much younger than the other two samples, which yield very similar ages. The two older ages also have lower overdispersion values than the younger one, possibly suggesting that they are more reliable.To further contextualize these age determinations, we compared the ages with mean summer insolation at the latitude of the Nefud Desert, (Fig. 5), the driver of ‘Green Arabia’ humid phases14. The buried handaxe is associated with a thick marl sequence overlying the dated sediments. Sedimentological analysis indicates these marls were produced by significant wet conditions. Both the MIS 9 and MIS 7 insolation peaks are modulated by high eccentricity (Fig. 5) and are equal or greater in intensity to that of MIS 5a, which is known to have been wet enough to enable large perennial deep lake formation24. As can be seen, the MIS 9 insolation peaks lie closest to the older age estimates and correspond to a time when other lakes in the An Nasim area are known to have formed23 (Fig. 5). Taken together, this evidence is consistent with a MIS 9 date for the formation of the An Nasim deposits, though the possibility a younger MIS 7 age cannot be completely discounted.Figure 5Luminescence ages from the An Nasim site, displayed above the orbital parameters (derived from44) which produced humid episodes in the Arabian Peninsula (eccentricity [green] modulation of precession [turquoise], with a corresponding influence upon summer [JJA] insolation at the latitude of the Nefud [black], driving monsoon incursion). Marine Isotope Stages of the last 700 ka are displayed for reference. Navy blue bar data are from23 and are displayed as follows. Solid bars indicate lake formation occurred during this range (a direct date or paired bracketing ages). Dashed lines with endcaps and thick bars to the left indicate maximum (underlying, no unconformities) ages for lake formation—which likely occurred either before (i.e. older than) the endcap, or during the period denoted by a thick bar. Dashed lines with endcaps and thick bars to the right indicate minimum (overlying, no unconformities) ages for lake formation—which likely occurred after (i.e. younger than) the endcap, or during the period denoted by a thick bar. The hashed area shows the high concurrence of data suggesting lake formation in MIS 9. Produced using Microsoft Excel.Full size image More

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    Predicting distribution of malaria vector larval habitats in Ethiopia by integrating distributed hydrologic modeling with remotely sensed data

    Location of potential larval habitats and probability of occurrenceGenerally, Anopheles arabiensis mosquito takes around 15 days to develop from egg to adult, but the duration can be as short as 10 days due to selection pressures from the stressed environment such as drought, temperature anomaly, or limited food resources48,49. In this regard, we considered areas with WI exceeding 10 and 15 days to be potential larval habitats under critical and normal conditions, respectively.To determine the probability of potential larval habitat occurrence, we computed the probability of ponding occurring longer than 10 and 15 days, P(WI  > T), as shown in Eq. (2). P(WI  > T) is defined as the ratio of D(WI(x,y,t)  > T), the number of cumulated days for which the WI (i.e. persistence of ponding) of a grid cell (x,y) at time t that exceeded T days, to Dperiod, the number of days within a defined period of simulation.$$Pleft( {WI > T} right) = frac{{D(WIleft( {x,y,t} right) > T)}}{{D_{period} }},,T in left{ {10,15} right}$$
    (2)
    Figure 5 shows the results for the spatial distribution of P(WI  > T) over the three periods of simulation, namely the entire year of 2018, the dry season (i.e. January to April and November to December) and the rainy season (i.e. May to October). It can be observed that ponding was persistent throughout the year around the stream edges and the vicinity. P(WI  > 10) and P(WI  > 15) were consistently close to 1, reflecting a high potential of these areas as larval habitats.Figure 5Spatial distribution for the probability of potential larval habitat occurrence. (a–d) represent the probability of WI exceeding 10 days and 15 days for the baseline scenario and the irrigation scenario for the entire year. Similarly, (e–h) represent the probability of WI exceeding 10 days and 15 days during the dry season, and (i–l) represent the probability of WI exceeding 10 days and 15 days during the rainy season. Areas where the simulated surface water flowrate exceeded 0.01 m3/s for 90% of the time in the simulated year were masked out for all the sub-figures since Anopheles larvae have a lower chance of surviving in fast-moving water61.Full size imageFor the baseline scenario shown in Fig. 5a,b, the P(WI  > T) for the areas outside of the streams was predominantly determined by soil type. The areas characterized by Usterts (see Supplementary Fig S2) with the lowest hydraulic conductivity in the model domain were the next most at risk, with a P(WI  > T) of about 0.4–0.5. In the remaining areas, P(WI  > T) was generally 0.2 or less. Comparing Fig. 5a,b, the differences were minimal except for the steep areas at the watershed upstream boundary where P(WI  > 15) was predominantly zero. The surface water ponding was unable to last more than 15 days due to the terrain gradient.Figure 5c,d show the results for the irrigation scenario. Compared to the baseline scenario, the year-round persistent ponding around the streams and the vicinity was wider in coverage and more noticeable. Irrigation also increased P(WI  > 10) in Fig. 5c and P(WI  > 15) in Fig. 5d from 0.4–0.5 to about 0.7 and 0.6 respectively for Farm #1, Farm #2, and a significant portion of Farm #3 and Farm #4. The P(WI  > T) for the remaining area within the farms remained relatively unchanged at 0.2 and this could be attributed to the Ustoll soil type which drains easily. The increase in the probability of potential larval habitat occurrence from the baseline was more pronounced for P(WI  > 10) than P(WI  > 15) since the interval of irrigation was set at 10 days, after which the farm drained without replenishment until the next irrigation cycle.For the dry season, it can be observed in Fig. 5e,f that the stream edges were the only areas with high potential of larval habitat occurrence. In Fig. 5g,h, P(WI  > T) increased visibly in the farms after irrigation, with a distinct similarity between Farms #1/#3 and Farms #2/#4 that points to the irrigation schedule. While irrigation was alternated evenly between the two groups, Farms#1 and #3 showed a higher P(WI  > T) than Farms #2 and #4, possibly due to the timing of the irrigation relative to the rainfall. Irrigation could either coincide with rainfall or act as a supplement when there was no rainfall to augment soil moisture. Noticeably, there was an area to the northeast straddling both Farm #3 and Farm #4 where P(WI  > 10) was around 0.1 but P(WI  > 15) was almost zero, indicating that irrigation only allowed for larval habitats under critical conditions in that area during the dry season.For the rainy season, it can be observed in the baseline scenario (Fig. 5i,j) that the areas characterized by Ustert exhibited a high potential of larval habitat occurrence, apart from the stream edges. Particularly, there was an area to the north where P(WI  > T) was lower than the other parts which could be due to the relatively steeper terrain. In the irrigation scenario (Fig. 5k,l), there was no visible difference in P(WI  > T) as compared to the baseline scenario, apart from a minor increase around the western part of Farm #4.As a summary, we present the results in boxplots as shown in Fig. 6 to illustrate the effect of irrigation in different seasons for the areas inside and outside farms. The relevant statistics can be found in Table 1. The P(WI  > T) had a highly asymmetrical distribution because it was very low in most of the model domain but could be very high in the remaining areas due to the streams. For the following comparison, we will use the median as it was more representative of the distribution.Figure 6Box plots for the probability of potential larval habitat occurrence for the whole year, dry, and rainy season. Probability of WI exceeding (a) 10 days and 15 days (b) for the area inside farms and the area outside farms. The line within each box is the sample median and the top and bottom of each box are the 25th and 75th percentiles. The whiskers were drawn from the two ends of the box and demarcate the observations which were within 1.5 times the interquartile range from the top and bottom of the box.Full size imageTable 1 Summary statistics of the probability of potential larval habitat occurence for the whole year, dry season, and rainy season. Mean, 25th percentile (P25), median and 75th percentile (P75) of the probability of WI exceeding 10 days and 15 days for the (a) areas inside farms and (b) areas outside farms. The p value was derived from the Wilcoxon Rank-Sum test under the null hypothesis that irrigation did not increase the median probability of exceedance from the baseline scenario.Full size tableIn the baseline scenario, there was a higher potential for larval habitats to form inside the farms, with a median P(WI  > 10) of 0.427 and a median P(WI  > 15) of 0.400, than outside the farms, with a median P(WI  > 10) of 0.06 and a median P(WI  > 15) of 0.019. This is expected because the farms are located in an area with relatively flat terrain and a higher concentration of streams. The difference in the median P(WI  > T) inside and outside the farms was bigger in the rainy season compared to the dry season, as the higher rainfall received intensified ponding.Irrigation increased the median P(WI  > T) inside the farms drastically in the dry season, with the median P(WI  > 10) increasing from 0 to 0.442 and the median P(WI  > 15) increasing from 0 to 0.282. Although irrigation was only applied over the dry season, there was also a statistically significant increase in the median P(WI  > T) during the rainy season (p  10) increased from 0.848 to 0.864 while the median P(WI  > 15) increased from 0.794 to 0.810. This was due to irrigation contributing to the antecedent soil moisture before the onset of the rainy season, which shortened the time for the soil to become saturated and ponding to occur. On the other hand, there was no strong evidence outside the farms of an increase in the median P(WI  > T) due to irrigation (p  > 0.01). This applied to both rainy and dry seasons.Stability of larval habitatsIn the previous section, we showed that irrigation did not have a significant impact on areas outside the farms. Here, we evaluated the stability of the potential larval habitats specifically for the areas inside farms based on the distribution of the maximum duration of ponding for each grid cell within the year as shown in the histogram (Fig. 7a). The total number of cells corresponding to each bin interval of 15 days was expressed as a fraction of the total number of cells in the area inside farms.Figure 7The fraction of area inside the irrigated farms for each potential larval habitat types under the baseline and irrigation scenarios. (a) Shows the histogram of the maximum duration of ponding within the year for the grid cells in each type of habitats expressed as a fraction of the total area of the farms. The bin size was 15 days. Temporary, semi-permanent, and permanent larval habitats were typically characterized by ponding duration of 15–90 days, 90–180 days, and 180 days and above, respectively. The baseline scenario is represented in blue and the irrigation scenario is represented in orange. The darker orange bin is a result of the two overlapping. (b) Shows the comparison of the fractional area occupied by non-habitats (less than 15 days) as well as potential temporary, semi-permanent, and permanent larval habitats inside the farms. Each grid cell within the farm was categorized based on its maximum ponding duration.Full size imageFrom the baseline scenario, 13.2% of the area was not favorable for larval habitats because the maximum duration of ponding in those areas was less than 15 days. The most common maximum ponding duration was between 150 and 165 days, which accounted for more than 20% of the area. This was followed by 15–30 days and 360 days and above which made up 17.6% and 13.8% of the area respectively. With irrigation, there was a general increase in the maximum ponding durations. The most common maximum ponding duration was 360 days and above, accounting for 18% of the area. Noticeably, the area with maximum ponding duration between 210–225 days increased fourfold to 10%. The remaining increase was for 285 days and above. Counter-intuitively, the area that was not conducive as larval habitats (i.e. maximum ponding duration less than 15 days) also increased slightly by 0.6%. This was because irrigation raised the overland flowrate in these areas, mostly near streams, and made them unfavorable for breeding.In Fig. 7b, we grouped the maximum ponding durations into stability periods corresponding to temporary (2 weeks to 3 months), semi-permanent (3–6 months), and permanent (6 months and above) habitats based on field observations from a study at the site35. Temporary habitats such as puddles retain water for a short period while permanent habitats such as stream edges and swamps hold water much longer and are more stable. For the baseline scenario, semi-permanent habitats were the most common, occupying 33.1% of the area, while permanent and temporary habitats also accounted for 29.6% and 24.1% of the area respectively. After irrigation, there was a significant shift from semi-permanent habitats, which reduced to 22.9% of the area, to permanent habitats which increased to 41% of the area. There was also a slight reduction in the extent of temporary habitats to 22.4% of the area.Temporal pattern of potential larval habitatsTo shed light on the temporal patterns, we evaluated F(WI  > T), the fractional coverage of potential larval habitats inside farm, for each day throughout the year. We only focused on the area inside farms since irrigation does not have a significant impact on the area outside farms. As shown in Eq. (3), F(WI  > T) is defined as the ratio of C(WI  > T), the number of cells for which the WI (i.e. persistence of ponding) exceeded T days, to Cfarm, the number of cells within the farm area. T is set as 10 days and 15 days, corresponding to critical and normal conditions respectively.$$Fleft( {WI > T} right) = frac{{Cleft( { WIleft( {x,y,t} right) ge T} right)}}{{C_{farm} }},,T in left{ {10,15} right}$$
    (3)
    In Fig. 8a, F(WI  > 10) increased steeply on January 10 as WI started increasing from 0 at the beginning of the year. For the baseline scenario, the fractional coverage decreased minimally from 0.18 throughout the dry season despite the sporadic spike in precipitation. At the onset of the rainy season, the peak rainfall event of the year from May 5th to May 11th caused a sharp increase in F(WI  > 10) from 0.15 to 0.61 and thereafter, the relentless rainfall maintained the fractional coverage at about 0.6. Throughout the rainy season, there were four recurring peaks at a frequency of about 2 months. Post-rainy season, F(WI  > 10) dropped gradually to below 0.2 after the last peak at the end of October.Figure 8Daily variations in the extent of the potential larval habitats for the year. Time series of the fractional coverage of areas with Wetness Index (WI) exceeding (a) 10 days and (b) 15 days.Full size imageFor the irrigation scenario, F(WI  > 10) increased during the dry season from January to March with visible cyclical variations between 0.2 and 0.4 due to the rotation of irrigation among the four farms. Subsequently, the spike in rainfall at the end of March combined with the higher antecedent soil moisture from irrigation brought forward the step increase in the fractional coverage to April from May in the baseline scenario. As irrigation stopped at the end of April, F(WI  > 10) gradually dropped back to the same level as the baseline scenario at the end of June. In the dry season from November to December, the fractional coverage started to deviate from the baseline scenario again with cyclical fluctuations, gradually decreasing towards the end of the year.In Fig. 8b, F(WI  > 15) remained largely the same for the dry season but the peaks were moderated in the rainy season, compared to F(WI  > 10). There was one less peak at the end of May in the early rainy season because the watershed did not accumulate enough rainfall for the persistence of the ponded areas to exceed 15 days. Specifically, for the irrigation scenario, the increase in fractional coverage during the dry season was moderated and less sensitive to the spikes in rainfall. Similarly, irrigation resulted in the early onset of the steep increase in F(WI  > 15) in April following the spike in rainfall at the end of March. Also, it took two months after the end of irrigation in April for the fractional coverage to return to the same level as the baseline.From F(WI  > 10) and F(WI  > 15), we calculated the corresponding monthly mean, MF(WI  > 10), and MF(WI  > 15) as well as the 95th confidence interval as shown in Fig. 9. In Fig. 9a, MF(WI  > 10) in the baseline was the highest for the months between June and September, constituting a four-month window in which at least 50% of the area was conducive for larval habitat formation. Of the four months, the highest monthly mean fractional coverage was in July at 79.9%. Irrigation extended the window to include the months of April and May. The monthly mean fractional coverage increased 4.5 times to 64.3% in April and 1.4 times to 63.7% in May. The MF(WI  > 10) for the rest of the months in the window (i.e. June to September) remained one of the highest but the increase due to irrigation was not statistically significant (p  > 0.01). July remained as the month with the highest monthly mean fractional coverage at 80.0%. In Fig. 9b, MF(WI  > 15) was generally slightly lower than MF(WI  > 10) for both the baseline and irrigation scenarios but the general trends were the same.Figure 9Monthly variation in the extent of the potential larval habitats for the year. Monthly mean fractional coverage of areas with a probability of WI exceeding 10 days (a) and 15 days (b). The 95% confidence interval is indicated at the top of each bar chart. The asterisks (*) next to the month on the x-axis indicate that irrigation increased the fractional coverage of the potential larval habitats for the month from the baseline scenario based on a 2-sample t-test (p  More

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    Author Correction: Disturbance suppresses the aboveground carbon sink in North American boreal forests

    AffiliationsDepartment of Earth System Science, University of California, Irvine, CA, USAJonathan A. Wang & James T. RandersonDepartment of Earth and Environment, Boston University, Boston, MA, USAJonathan A. Wang, Alessandro Baccini & Mark A. FriedlThe Woodwell Climate Research Center, Falmouth, MA, USAAlessandro Baccini & Mary FarinaDepartment of Land Resources and Environmental Sciences, Montana State University, Bozeman, MT, USAMary FarinaAuthorsJonathan A. WangAlessandro BacciniMary FarinaJames T. RandersonMark A. FriedlCorresponding authorCorrespondence to
    Jonathan A. Wang. More