Invasive Species

is one of nature's most fascinating shape shifters. From early childhood, we marvel at this creature's transformative abilities, changing from lowly crawling caterpillars into winged beauties in the space of just a few weeks. In addition to being easy on the eyes, butterflies lack the drawbacks that make so many other insects frustrating pests. They don't bite or sting or carry malaria.

They can even be good for our gardens. You hardly ever hear anyone complain about a butterfly infestation, so when researchers released a flock of the insects on a remote island in the nineteen nineties, they did not expect any downside. Their goal was to study population bottlenecks. That's a term for mass casualty events like a natural disaster or a plague. If enough members of species die out, these survivors might not have enough genetic diversity to go on, but pinpointing

exactly how much diversity is needed can be tricky. In this case, the scientists were going to take a small population of butterflies and release them somewhere that they couldn't bump into others of their kind. Whether they died out or thrived would tell scientists a lot about the impacts of their limited gene pool, but they had to be careful. Introducing invasive species to a new area can be unpredictable at best. Even a small chain to an existing food

chain can wreak havoc on an ecosystem. So to limit the impact of their experiment, the scientists selected a tiny island in the Finnish Archipelago. There was little life there besides grass and flowers, and the butterflies they'd be using were too weak to reach the neighboring islands. It was as close to laboratory conditions as you could get in nature, with no chance of affecting the surrounding area, or so

they thought. The scientists released the young caterpillars on the island and then departed, planning to check back in at regular intervals. At first, everything proceeded as expected. The caterpillars spread across the island, chewing through the grass and the flowers. But just as they were getting ready to pupate, something strange happened. Some of the caterpillars began to curl and twist, convulsing as something wriggled beneath their skin. Then dagger like

mandibles burst from their flesh, ripping and tearing. The creature tore its way free of the caterpillar's body and took to the sky. When the scientists returned to the island, they found it swarming with insects. Not beautiful butterflies, though, but ugly stinging wasps. A large number of the caterpillars had been infected with these parasite wasps. The eggs had hatched inside the caterpillars' bodies, and the wasps had eaten

their way free, killing their hosts in the process. Naturally, the researchers were horrified they had botched the experiment and released an invasive insect into the Finnish countryside. These wasps were much stronger than the butterflies and had already spread beyond the island. And it wasn't just one species that they had to worry about. You see, many of the wasps also contained an even smaller, more rare parasite wasp, which in turn carried a rare form of bacteria that

hadn't previously existed in the area. Like a horrific set of Russian nesting dolls, The tiny aliens would eventually burst from their host's bodies. At this point, there was very little that could be done. The cat was out of the bag, or the wasp was out of the caterpillar, so to speak. The researchers did eventually publish their findings, offering their experiment as a warning about the risks of

working with invasive species. There is a silver lining, though, The few caterpillars that didn't get eaten from the inside out thrived thirty years later. They're still on the island along with those wasps. If you visit in the early summer, you'll be greeted by a kaleidoscope of beautiful winged survivors.

Just be careful not to get stung. The whole problem started back in seventeen oh eight off the coast of Cartania, Columbia, where a massive ship docked in the harbor, one hundred and twenty eight feet long, sporting three decks, three masts, and sixty four guns. The san Jose was one of Spain's largest galleons, and it was preparing to set sail for the Motherland, laden with new world treasure. At the time,

Spain was in shambles. The King of Spain had died without an air in seventeen hundred, launching the War of Spanish Secession. On one side was the French. On the other, the Austrians, Dutch, and the Holy Roman Empire, as well as the British. Whoever controlled the Spanish Crown controlled the seas and the flow of commerce from the Americas, which is why just before the san Jose set sail, a

dark shadow appeared on the horizon. It was a squadron of British ships, there to capture the san Jose's treasure for their own. In the ensuing shootouts, a cannon ball accidentally hit the san Jose's store of powder and ammunitions. The ship exploded, sending the San Jose twenty billion dollars worth of gold and jewels and six hundred souls to the bottom of the sea. For decades, the San Jose

sat forgotten under the waves. Its billion dollar treasure of gold, silver, and precious emeralds lay in wait for whoever was brave enough to seek it out. At least that's how a treasure hunt hill normally goes, But the story of the San Jose doesn't end with some intrepid adventurers getting the payday of their lives. Instead, the discovery of the San Jose set off an international custody battle that's still raging today. In nineteen eighty one, a US salvage company called Glacamora

made the discovery of a lifetime. There, resting on the seafloor outside Cartana was the remains of a massive Spanish galleon. It was the San Jose, undisturbed for more than three hundred years, with all its treasure inside. They quickly approached the Colombian government to strike a deal. They would work together to raise the wreck and then split the treasure fifty to fifty. But the Colombians were not exactly happy about the deal, and it quickly devolved into a drawn

out legal battle. In twenty fifteen, thirty five years after the Glacamora's initial discovery, the Colombian government made announcement it was them, and not the Americans, who had discovered the San Jose without any knowledge gleaned from the American expedition. They had found the sunken ship on a different part of the seafloor. The Colombians sent down a quake robots to make images and confirm that it was the ship in question. In their considered legal opinion, the Glacamora expedition

had no claim to the treasure. Now, if you're thinking that this sounds like a convenient way to avoid sharing the treasure, you would be right. But while this sneaky move may have targeted the Americans, it also made way for other entities to lay claim to the ship. First of all, there's Spain, the country who owned the galleon. Today, they argue that if the British hadn't sunk the San Jose in seventeen oh eight, all of that gold and

jewels would be sitting in the Royal treasury. So the least that Colombia could do would be to return it. But if they did that then they would interfere with the indigenous people's claim. Native groups from Peru and Bolivia argue that the treasure was stolen from their land by the Spanish. It should be returned to its place of origin as reparations for colonization. Colombia wanted to keep the ship and its treasures, not to enrich the country, as

they say, but to educate the public. They plan to raise the ship and house it in a museum. And all of these plans you see, to raise the ship and redistribute its wealth go against what the archaeologists and the historians want. In their eyes, the wreck should be left as it is. The treasure and artifacts on board give context to the ship as an archaeological site. Not to mention the wreck is also a graveyard. Archaeologists argue that six hundred souls who died in the sinking should

be left undisturbed where they are. Altogether, there's no easy answer for what should happen to the San Jose. The court case between the American salvage company and the Colombian government has made its way to the International Court of Justice in the Hague. Between unclear maritime laws and confusion over international jurisdiction, there's honestly no easy answer for who gets the twenty billion dollar hoard. When it comes to buried treasure, it turns out that long John Silver was wrong.

X may mark the spot, but it doesn't win in court. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com. The show was created by me Aaron Mankey in partnership with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the

Worldoflore dot com. And until next time, stay curious.