The people have spoken and the choice of Guardian readers for the final nominee for UK invertebrate of the year is resounding: all hail Lumbricus terrestris, the common earthworm.

The common earthworm – also known as the lob worm, dew worm, nightcrawler and, in Germany, the rain worm – is the soil-maker. Without its labours, we would struggle to feed ourselves.

Worms can bring 40 tonnes of soil to the surface per hectare a year in Britain. They are the engineers of an ecosystem that may be as diverse as the Amazon rainforest. Their diggings aerate soil and they pull fallen leaves and other organic matter into the earth and recycle them. Worms make soils less prone to flooding in winter and less baking hard in summer, they boost microbial activity and, of course, support plant growth.

But #VoteWorm is to celebrate majesty and dignity too. These are gorgeous creatures, many shades of pink, stretching out to 35cm long, and coiling and gliding – never “slithering”, as the pestilent centipede put it in James and the Giant Peach – through the earth.

The worm’s backers know this well. Lily, aged four, nominates the earthworm “because they help make compost to help our garden grow, they feel very soft and when they have got mud on them they are like a wiggly piece of string”.

We think the myopic adult world is blind to the brilliance of worms but they have long had influential advocates from Cleopatra and Charles Darwin to George Monbiot.

Today, Guardian-reading soil scientists and horticulturalists make a powerful case to Vote Worm but so, too, does Gill from North Wales, who has been earthworm-phobic since she was Lily’s age. “Much gratitude for all the thrashing ones, the little thready ones, the slimy ones, the knotted ones, the ones with ‘saddles’, the blue-tinged ones, even the enormous ones stretching terrifyingly across my drive when the ground is sodden,” she writes. “Thank you all, for what you do.”

Take heed of Trevor Lawson from Amersham. Not only are earthworms critically important, he argues, they are “the best symbol of everything that matters about being an invertebrate in our anthropocentric worldview – vulnerable, crushable, rarely considered, even despised for their apparent blind ignorance, and yet through sheer force of numbers and extraordinary evolutionary adaptation, they are capable of shaping the entire world around us as we, in our own wilful ignorance, stumble blindly on.”

#VoteWorm’s last word goes to reader Jacqui from Wiltshire who says: “200 words for this hero?! Really! Give the worm a gong!”

• At midnight on Friday 12 April, voting will open to decide the Guardian’s UK invertebrate of the year with the winner to be announced on Monday 15 April.

Thirteen years ago, riding through central London on my way to meet a friend one evening, I found myself surrounded by hundreds of cyclists, some blaring horns, one popping wheelies, and even someone covered in lights, thundering out drum’n’bass from a mobile sound system.

In spite of being overdressed in a shirt and my best trousers, I was taken by the spontaneous solidarity of this diverse group, who I later found was mostly made up of strangers.

Having been swept along in their pack, we made our way to the West End as other traffic momentarily came to a halt to let us pass, while perplexed tourists and shoppers looked on.

This was my first experience of Critical Mass, a monthly, leaderless event held around the world, which promotes safer cycling by riding in numbers.

As a nervous cyclist getting used to riding in London, participating in a “rideout” gave me a rare chance to briefly experience what roads in the capital could be like without cars. It was liberating.

This Sunday, hundreds of cyclists are expected to take part in the 30th anniversary of the first London event. Just like in 1994, the rolling demonstration will reiterate a message that cyclists have an equal right to use the road and that they should be able to ride in safety. Although numbers have been falling, about 100 cyclists still die on British roads each year, according to government data.

Inspired by rides first held in the US, Critical Mass tries to set off from the same starting point on the last Friday of every month; in London it is the South Bank, under Waterloo Bridge.

A mix of riders turn up, from cycling activists and environmentalists to those who just want to ride for fun.

There is no planned route; the pack simply follows riders who happen to be at the front. By forming a “critical mass” and riding slowly around a city, riders take up as much road as is needed to keep everybody safe.

A Critical Mass website explains: “Critical Mass is not an organisation or group, but an idea or tactic, Critical Mass allows people to reclaim cities with their bikes, just by getting together and outnumbering the cars on the road”

There is no question that rides are disruptive in their nature. At roundabouts and junctions, a few “corkers” will move out to stop traffic coming in from sidestreets so the pack can stick together. Sometimes, the disruption leads to arguments, as I witnessed on my first ride. Fortunately, a standoff between a young rider and a motorist was defused quickly.

The rides often last for a few hours and their noise and colour give them a reputation for being a bit lively.

That Critical Mass London still exists is somewhat of an achievement given that there have been high-profile attempts to restrict or even ban it. In 2007 moves to outlaw it unless its route was notified to the police in advance were overturned when the House of Lords allowed an appeal against a previous ruling by the court of appeal.

The law lords held that the event, which had no organisers or set route and proceeded on a “follow my leader” basis, was not governed by the Public Order Act 1986.

It is not easy to measure what 30 years of Critical Mass London rideouts have achieved, but its participants would probably want to believe that it has helped raise the profile of cyclists. They would also argue that they have helped change the stereotype that cyclists on the capital’s roads are still the minority.

The event endures, and this weekend a diverse group of people will celebrate their right to use the road safely and in an environmentally friendly manner. In a symbolic act of defiance, many will also get off their bikes during the ride to hold their bikes above their heads and join in with a traditional “bike lift” or “bike salute” (probably to a backdrop of car horns blaring).

In Chicago’s Field Museum, behind a series of access-controlled doors, are about 1,500 dinosaur fossil specimens. The palaeobiologist Jasmina Wiemann walks straight past the bleached leg bones – some as big as her – neither does she glance at the fully intact spinal cord, stained red by iron oxides filling the spaces where there was once organic material. She only has eyes for the deep chocolate-brown fossils: these are the ones containing preserved organic matter – bones that offer unprecedented insights into creatures that went extinct millions of years ago.

Wiemann is part of the burgeoning field of conservation palaeobiology, where researchers are looking to the deep past to predict future extinction vulnerability. At a time when humans could be about to witness a sixth mass extinction, studying fossil records is particularly useful for understanding how the natural world responded to problems before we arrived: how life on Earth reacted to environmental change over time, how species adapted to planet-scale temperature changes, or what to expect when ocean geochemical cycles change.

“This is not something that we can simulate in the laboratory or meaningfully observe right now in the present day,” Wiemann says. “We have to rely on the longest ongoing experiment.”

To observe that planet-scale experiment, scientists have developed new methods of gathering information from the bones of the distant past. After collecting her fossils, Wiemann puts them under a microscope that shoots a laser at the specimen. She displays a section on her computer screen, 50 times its original size, and moves across the fossil’s surface until she finds a dark spot with a seemingly velvety surface – this is the fossilised organic matter.

Wiemann turns the room lights off, a tiny dot of light beams on to the fossil, and a curved line starts appearing on the computer screen. Every compound reacts differently to the laser, and where the bumps in this line are appearing across her chart suggest she was successful at finding organics. “This is beautiful,” she says. She will need to run through the data later, but this should reveal whether the specimen under her microscope was warm or cold-blooded.

Using this method, Wiemann studied when warm-bloodedness emerged around the Permian-Triassic mass extinction (the biggest in history) and the Cretaceous-Paleogene (when the dinosaurs went extinct). Warm-bloodedness was already established as a factor that made species less likely to go extinct, as they can regulate their internal temperature in changing climates. But Wiemann found a new result – that many animals evolved warm-bloodedness independently after each of these extinctions. This could have implications for how animals adapt and find resilience as the planet warms.

“If we want to, in any way, even in the short term, make meaningful predictions, we have to demonstrate that we understand these processes,” she says.

One of the first people to write about combining ecological and palaeontological approaches to predict extinction vulnerability was Michael McKinney, now the director of environmental studies at the University of Tennessee. After graduating with a degree in palaeontology he began working but says he kept feeling a need to be more relevant. “I love the dinosaurs, the big picture,” he says. “But I kept thinking that it gives us a great context, but it wasn’t teaching me a lot that I could apply directly to the immediate problems.”

McKinney went on to create his current department, which merges geology and ecology. Now, he sees palaeobiology as useful to predict what will happen. But understanding what to do about it is more difficult.

“If you think about what the world’s going to be like 1,000 years from now, I think deep time can help us answer that question,” he says. “But if I’m worried about the fact that the Amazon rainforest is disappearing in the next 20 years, I’m sceptical deep time can inform that.”

Humans, he says, have found new ways of driving species to extinction, from the passenger pigeon to the dodo. “We operate by rules that don’t really apply to the past. The things that we do are so fast and so unpredictable.”

But deep time can offer insights into how species respond to very large, systemic changes – such as the temperature shifts we are now seeing. Erin Saupe, a professor of palaeobiology at the University of Oxford, uses large datasets to look at patterns of extinction in the fossil record to see which traits make species most vulnerable.

In a recent paper published in Science, she and her co-authors asked whether intrinsic traits, including body size and geographic range size, were more or less important in predicting extinction than external factors such as climate change. “Nobody has looked at this question before,” Saupe says. Previous research has shown larger animals are typically less likely to go extinct in marine environments but are more prone to extinction on land, and larger “range sizes” – the distance a species is distributed over – help species avoid extinction.

The team accessed a digital database to look at 290,000 marine invertebrate fossils from across the past 485m years, and used models to reconstruct the climate over that period. They found geographic range size was the most important predictor of extinction, perhaps because of its interconnection with other factors associated with a lower extinction risk. A large range size suggests the animal is also good at moving larger distances, and if a species is widely spread, a regional climate change in one area likely wouldn’t impact all populations. The team found all intrinsic traits they looked at, as well as climate change, were important in predicting extinction.

“Even if a species has traits that usually make them resistant to climate change and to extinction, if the magnitude of climate change is large enough, they will still go extinct,” Saupe says. “I think it’s quite an important message for the present day.”

When it comes to facing a possible future extinction of yet unknown degree, Saupe says the Earth has advantages it didn’t before. For one, we no longer live on one supercontinent, which means the climate regulates better and prevents the continental interiors from becoming so hot and dry. However, similar to McKinney, she is worried that resources are limited and humans are having a disproportionate effect on biodiversity.

“In the past when you’ve had these major climatic changes, although it was devastating for biodiversity … species had the time, they had the resources for species to eventually rebound,” she says. “Today, we’re worried that those climatic changes will continue, but there is no space – there are more limited resources for species to cope with those changes.”

Find more age of extinction coverage here, and follow biodiversity reporters Phoebe Weston and Patrick Greenfield on X for all the latest news and features