A few months ago, a small group of journalists took a plane to an undisclosed location in the northern United States to observe two wolves rather than a data center or product launch. The 2,000-acre preserve where these white, fluffy creatures reside is so secretive that journalists who were invited to see the live animals were not allowed to enter the compound. Because even a photograph requires a chaperone in the era of synthetic video, they took a different flight first just to be safe. It’s an odd detail that reveals nearly everything about the current state of de-extinction technology, which lies between serious biotechnology and a staged spectacle.
Colossal Biosciences, the company responsible for those wolves, has emerged as the industry’s de facto spokesperson. Ben Lamm and Harvard geneticist George Church founded the Dallas-based business in 2021. Since then, it has grown from an aspirational startup to Texas’s first “decacorn,” valued at over $10 billion with over $550 million in funding. Five years ago, that kind of valuation would have seemed ridiculous for a company whose main products are shaggy mice and gene-edited wolf pups. In a venture capital environment where money chases ambition first and asks questions later, it hardly draws attention these days.
Since it isn’t really about mammoths, it is worthwhile to consider why investors are genuinely thrilled. Colossal now employs about 260 scientists across labs in Dallas, Boston, and Melbourne, has raised $615 million, and reached its decacorn valuation in January 2025. Artificial womb research, genomic analysis software, and ancient DNA extraction pipelines, among other tools designed to pursue an Ice Age giant, have begun to branch out into distinct industries that deal with fertility medicine, plastic degradation, and biodiversity preservation. The mammoth seems to be more of a marketing tool than a product, a spectacular proof-of-concept that serves as justification for funding the dull but lucrative plumbing beneath it.
Not everyone believes the underlying science is worthy of the attention it is receiving. The dire wolf pups are basically grey wolves with about 20 edits, and it is impossible to create an organism that is exactly like an extinct species, according to Beth Shapiro, the chief scientist at Colossal. Even more bluntly, independent researchers contend that the company’s well-known woolly mice were more of a test of mouse genetics than a genuine step toward the resuscitation of a mammoth. Colossal’s response is practical: if it resembles the original animal in appearance and behavior, the label is less important than the ecological function. Whether you call that de-extinction or pricey cosplay seems to depend entirely on who is asking.
The money hasn’t slowed down despite the tension, and it’s difficult to ignore the similarities to the larger AI investing frenzy that is taking place concurrently. Big, visually appealing stories are currently preferred by venture capital over short-term certainty, and de-extinction technology presents an almost irresistible narrative with extinct species, billionaire backers, and branding reminiscent of Game of Thrones. Even though it’s still unclear exactly what this will be, investors who missed the early AI wave seem determined not to miss it.
In addition to more recent work on the long-extinct bluebuck, Colossal is currently working on five concurrent projects: mammoth, thylacine, dodo, dire wolf, and moa. Some are reportedly ahead of schedule; the company’s main attraction, the mammoth, is still not anticipated to give birth to a live calf before 2028, and even then, there are the customary disclaimers associated with cutting-edge science. As this develops, there’s a sense that investors aren’t actually placing any bets on resurrection. They are placing a wager that the genetic equipment needed to try it will be valuable long after the mammoth is no longer tracked.
