Avian influenza is starting to spread among cattle and other mammals. Could it become a human pandemic?

How dangerous is bird flu? 
The H5N1 strain circulating around the world is, for birds and other animals, the deadliest avian flu outbreak on record. First detected in China in 1996, it has ripped its way around the world, killing hundreds of millions of domestic and wild birds; more than 90 percent of chickens infected with H5N1 die within 48 hours. By the time the virus showed up in North America in 2021, it had evolved to become even more contagious. A highly pathogenic variant has now been detected on every continent apart from Australia and in more than 100 different bird species, including migratory waterfowl that keep the virus circulating. The culling of more than 85 million captive birds in the U.S. over the past two years has failed to halt the spread, with the disease now showing up in numerous mammal species, including cows. Earlier this month, a Texas dairy worker who had close contact with sick cattle tested positive for H5N1 — becoming the first person to have contracted it from a mammal — raising fears the virus could spark a human pandemic. The Centers for Disease Control says H5N1 currently poses a "low" threat to people because it cannot spread efficiently among humans. But that risk level, said epidemiologist Michael Osterholm, "could change in a heartbeat with additional mutations." 

Is the disease widespread in mammals? 
It's been detected in nearly 50 species, including mountain lions, bobcats, and polar bears. The virus has also caused mass die-offs among seals, sea lions, and farmed mink, and since March, it has been found in cattle in more than half a dozen states. So far, the variant has been spotted only in dairy cattle, not those raised for beef, and appears to cause only mild illness. Infected cows lose their appetite and what little milk they produce is thick and discolored; the animals then seem to recover. The cattle may have initially caught the bug from exposure to wild bird droppings or from contaminated feed — the FDA allows ground-up chicken feces to be fed to cows — but evidence is mounting that H5N1 is now spreading inside herds. Such mammal-to-mammal transmission puts H5N1 one step closer to being able to spread among humans. Genetic sequencing of the virus in the Texas patient revealed one mutation that improves its ability to replicate inside mammals, but there's no evidence yet that the variant has adapted to spread efficiently among humans. Still, the Texas case should serve as a warning, says virologist Angie Rasmussen. "The less human or cow transmission we have, the fewer of these mutations the virus can acquire." 

How does bird flu affect people? 
The two U.S. cases to date have been mild. A prison inmate who caught the virus while killing infected birds at a Colorado farm in 2022 suffered only fatigue; the Texas patient's sole symptom was pink eye. To catch the disease, a person typically needs to inhale massive amounts of the virus — which might happen while sweeping up infected fecal matter, for example. That's because the protein the current strain uses to penetrate cells does not attach easily to the receptors in the human nose, throat, or upper lungs, which would allow it to lock in and start pumping out copies of itself. Still, infections do happen, and once the virus reaches the lower lungs, it can be fatal. Some 900 people worldwide have been diagnosed with H5N1 over the past two decades, and about half have died. And the sheer scale of this outbreak gives the virus plenty of opportunities to evolve — and potentially to gain the ability to breach defenses in the human upper respiratory tract or become more transmittable through coughs or sneezes. Some mammalian species "may be suitable genetic mixing vessels to create a human pandemic strain," said epidemiologist Raina MacIntyre. But even without human-to-human spread, the virus has hammered the poultry industry and added to consumers' pain at the grocery store.
 
What's the economic damage? 
The Agriculture Department has spent more than $1 billion so far on compensating farmers for culled flocks and on measures to suppress the disease. Agricultural economists estimate the industry has suffered another billion in damages from lost sales — infections and culls took out nearly a third of egg-laying hens in 2022. That in turn caused prices to soar for consumers: a dozen eggs sold for a nationwide average of $4.82 in early 2023, more than double the price a year earlier. Egg prices have since dipped sharply, but this month the nation's largest egg producer, Cal-Maine Foods, announced it had to cull nearly 2 million hens at its Parmer County, Texas, plant following a bird flu outbreak. 

Can the disease be contained? 
There are several licensed bird flu vaccines, and countries including China, Egypt, and Mexico now inoculate poultry. But the U.S. Department of Agriculture is hesitant to follow suit. The vaccine formulas are chasing a constantly evolving threat, and none is tailored precisely to the current strain. Vaccination could also hurt exports: Many countries refuse to accept meat from inoculated chickens, arguing the immune response to vaccination is so similar to an infection that it's impossible to tell a safe bird from a virus carrier. Some experts say the only fix is to rethink poultry farming and to stop cramming tens of thousands of birds — engineered to be as homogenous and teeteringly plump as possible — into metal barns. Such a densely packed space is the perfect environment for a virus to spread and evolve quickly. "It's a man-made problem," said pathologist Thijs Kuiken of Erasmus University in the Netherlands. "We're knowingly risking our own lives by allowing this kind of system to continue as it is." 

Beware of pigs 
There's one farm animal that virologists hope never becomes a major carrier of H5N1: pigs. The animals are a common intermediary host for bird viruses that eventually plague humans, and viruses can swap genes inside a pig's body to form more infectious hybrids. The 1918 influenza pandemic — which killed at least 50 million people worldwide — is thought to have originated on a Kansas hog farm. And in 2009, simultaneous human and bird flu infections in pigs at one Mexico facility combined to spawn H1N1, better known as swine flu. So far, H5N1 has infected pigs only sporadically, but a recent USDA study demonstrated the virus can spread hog to hog. "When you mix those viruses in the swine, what pops out could be all swine, or a little human and swine, or a little avian and swine, or a little of all three," said virologist Eric Weaver. "And you never know: You might get the perfect combination."

"The 1950s are back," said Alise Morales in Jezebel, or at least they are on social media. Instagram and Tik Tok feeds are now clogged with "tradwives": "perfectly coiffed" young influencers in hand-embroidered aprons who have accumulated mil- lions of followers by gushing about the joys of keeping house and "traditional" womanhood. The movement's first domestic icon, Alena Kate Pettitt, claims she was "stifled by modern feminism" and her job in marketing. But her marital woes vanished when she gave it all up to become a housewife — which included "submitting" to her husband as head of the house. A legion of tradwives soon appeared online. There's "desexed Marilyn Monroe" clone Estee Williams, who posts videos with titles like "Biblically Submissive Wives"; former dancer Hannah Neeleman, who entered a beauty pageant two weeks after giving birth to her eighth child; and Nara Smith, who makes cooked-from-scratch versions of Cheez-Its and Cookie Crisp cereal. It's an "intoxicating" hit of postwar perfectionism, enough to make viewers "forget that the dream they're selling is actually a nightmare." 

Women are embracing nostalgia because "the modern world has failed them," said Caroline Burke in KatieCouric.com. They're routinely expected to have a full-time job and to handle most of the housework and child care. With few companies offering generous parental leave, it's no surprise some "Gen Z girls find the tradwife movement to be appealing." Amid the "giddy promotion of this anti-feminist lifestyle," the possibility of an ugly breakup tends to go unmentioned, said divorce coach Amy Polacko in Ms. I worked with one former tradwife whose ex-husband expected her "to meet his sexual needs on demand" while "he controlled all the money." When the marriage failed due to his multiple affairs, he wound up in a comfortable home and she, with no alimony and few job prospects, "lives in a trailer." 

Longing for a simpler way of life is totally legit, said Emma Beddington in The Guardian. Watch- ing a young woman "meditatively pickling beets in a shaft of sunlight" can make old-fashioned drudgery look like the most fun ever — until the usually white influencer starts ranting about the evils of feminism. But a pared-back, purposeful life doesn't have to be "trad." It can be diverse and radical, like the "lesbian sheep-farming couple" from Iceland I found on Instagram, or the Black Atlanta radio personality whose pandemic-era experiment in hen keeping turned into a small farm. I'd rather "be soothed by the hope of future change, not the false allure of a reactionary retro fantasy."

Alan Ritchson was traumatized by the modeling industry, said Chris Gardner in The Hollywood Reporter. After dropping out of college, the 6-foot-3, 240-pound Reacher star was working at a Florida gas station when a customer suggested he cash in on his good looks. Moving to Miami at 19, Ritchson signed with a modeling agency, appeared in Abercrombie & Fitch ads, and traveled the world. But he has little good to say about the business. "It's like legalized sex trafficking," says Ritchson, 41. "The number of times I was put in horrific environments where sexual abuse was the goal and the paycheck you were desperate for to survive was the carrot, I can't count on two hands." Gigs like the J.C. Penney catalog were a respite. "It was like, 'Thank God,' because nobody was trying to get you naked and oiled up in the back of a hotel room."

He reached his limit after a shoot with a "very famous" photographer who sexually assaulted him. "I left and drove straight to the agency. I said, 'F--- you for sending me there. You knew what was going to happen, and you did it anyway.' It was the last photo shoot I've ever had." In 2018, The New York Times ran a story where many male models spoke of similar abuse. Their tales "were my own," says Ritchson. "It's all true."