Every year, millions of shorebirds migrate to the Arctic to breed—some coming from as far away as Australia and New Zealand—and then head back again. Nearly all of the birds making this journey spend time in the food-rich intertidal mudflats of the Yellow Sea ecoregion, on the east coast of China and the west coasts of the Korean peninsula. But as China’s economy has grown, around 70 percent of the intertidal mudflats in the Yellow Sea area have disappeared—the land drained and “reclaimed” for development. All of the more than 30 species of shorebirds that rely on the mudflats are declining, and those that stop there twice a year are declining at a faster rate than those that stop only once. If the current trajectory continues, the Yellow Sea—once known as the cradle of China—will become the epicenter of extinction.

As the Climate Conference of Parties (COP-23) wraps up in Bonn, Germany, the prime minister of the tiny Pacific island nation of Tuvalu, which is sinking a few millimeters every year, made an impassioned call for transparency in the Paris Agreement “rule book” and for ratcheting up worldwide ambitions to reduce climate change.  While informal texts were drafted to guide implementation of the historic 2015 Paris Agreement, formal adoption of these rules will have to wait until COP-24, to be held in Poland next year.

A threat looms on the sun-splashed horizon of the Republic of the Marshall Islands. The specter of climate change wraps its fingers around the islands, raising sea levels, salinizing soils, and sapping freshwater resources. These changes will make it even harder to sustain crops, which could push the population to even greater reliance on  processed foods, which has already spurred a diabetes epidemic on the islands. The major role played by the United States in the history of the Marshalls, where nuclear bombs were famously tested during the Cold War, may continue, as the impacts of another existential threat—climate change—continue to increase.

Barbuda—an island once full of people—has been rendered completely uninhabitable by Hurricane Irma. Every single resident was evacuated from the island, and some are not planning to return. Climate-induced migration and displacement is not usually this dramatic, but it is not uncommon: Since 2008, UNHCR estimates that an average 21.5 million people each year have been forcibly displaced by weather-related natural disasters, like floods, storms, and wildfires.

Water-related challenges in El Salvador have acquired far greater significance over the past decade as they have intersected with other social problems including migration, criminal violence, and drug trafficking. When combined, these factors pose threats to domestic and regional stability. Damaging heavy rains, droughts, and rising temperatures are exacerbated by steadily intensifying El Niño oscillations and threaten the production of staple and export crops.  The declining viability of rural livelihoods is driving many farming families to migrate to urban centers or across borders. Food security is a constant concern across the region, and millions already rely on humanitarian assistance. Infrastructure has been damaged repeatedly by floods and raging rivers. El Salvador can mitigate many of these risks by employing ecological landscape restoration.  Improving the soil’s capacity to retain and regulate water will help maintain both agricultural and ecological viability.

Floods have taken the lives of more than 100 people in northern Bangladesh over the last two weeks. Fully one third of the country has been flooded and some 600,000 people have been displaced in the riverine nation as a result of monsoons in India and Nepal. At international climate forums, Bangladeshi diplomats consistently decry such disasters as part of their urgent calls for action to mitigate changing weather patterns worldwide. But here in the country’s Rangpur-Kurigam region, both authorities and citizens have been reluctant to attribute these deadly disasters to the effects of climate change.