David Klinges once measured the temperature beneath a fallen log in a Florida forest and found it 12°C cooler than the nearest weather station recorded just 200 meters away—yet that station’s data was being used to model climate impacts on local amphibians. In a groundbreaking paper published in Trends in Ecology & Evolution (2026), Klinges, now an incoming assistant professor at Rutgers University, leads a call for biologists to stop relying solely on macro-scale climate data and start studying the climate as organisms actually feel it. Co-authored with Yale Peabody Museum curators David Skelly and Martha Muñoz, the paper, "Matching climate to biological scales," argues that the disconnect between weather station readings and biological reality risks misrepresenting how species respond to climate change.
Weather stations, typically placed in open, standardized environments, capture macroclimate—the broad regional conditions. But most organisms don’t live in open fields under direct sun. Frogs burrow into leaf litter, lizards dart between shaded rocks, and woodpeckers nest in insulated tree cavities. These behaviors create microclimates that can differ drastically from official records. A shaded forest floor may be 15°C cooler than an exposed field, while a sun-baked rock can be 10°C hotter. "It is this scale that drives growth, survival, and reproduction," Klinges emphasizes. Without accounting for these differences, predictions about species’ resilience or extinction risk may be fundamentally flawed.
The paper introduces a three-tiered framework: macroclimate (regional weather), habitat climate (local conditions shaped by vegetation and topography), and organismal microclimate (the immediate environment an individual experiences). Smaller animals, like insects or frogs, heat up and cool down faster than larger ones, making them more vulnerable to brief temperature spikes. Some species, like lizards, can behaviorally thermoregulate by moving in and out of shade, while others, such as soil-dwelling invertebrates, are trapped in place. "You could drop two organisms in the same place, and they experience different microclimates because of who and what they are," Klinges explains.
New technologies—miniaturized sensors, thermal imaging, and biophysical models—are making microclimate research more accessible. But the real shift, the authors argue, lies in collaboration. Meteorologists understand atmospheric dynamics but often overlook biological interactions, while biologists may lack tools to scale up their findings. Bridging these disciplines, Klinges suggests, will lead to more accurate models of biodiversity change.
The implications extend beyond wildlife. Humans, too, experience microclimates—in cities, homes, and parks. Urban heat islands can make city centers up to 10°C warmer than surrounding areas, disproportionately affecting vulnerable populations. By adopting a biology-first approach, scientists can better predict how both natural and human systems will adapt. As climate change accelerates, the paper offers not just a methodological shift, but a more empathetic science—one that starts not with data points, but with lived experience.