The Fantastical Land of PARASITOIDS
For all the extreme, sometimes grotesque adapations of parasitic organisms,
they are not, generally speaking, "dangerous." Parasites depend upon their hosts
for survival, and have adapted to cause as little permanent harm as possible.
Some parasites, however, seem less than content to wallow in a lower intestine
their entire lives, and once a host has outlived its usefulness...why waste all the
perfectly good meat? Like Giger's famous Alien, a Parasitoid is defined as an
initially parasitic organism whose life cycle demands the eventual death - and often
consumption - of its host organism. A species that transitions from parasite, to
predator.

Interestingly, the vast majority of true Parasitoids are insect species, and the
majority of these in turn are members of the
Hymenoptera - the bees, ants and
wasps - though
Diptera, the flies, are probably a close second.

Let's get cozy with five of the most remarkable, most chilling killer parasites the
insect world can offer!
Hymenoepimecis argyraphaga & the Hijacked Web
While there are many parasitoid wasps that specialize in attacking spiders, this
species boasts a strategy thus far unique among known parasitoids. Targeting
only the web-building spider Plesiometa argra, the adult female lays a single egg
on the host's abdomen. After up to two weeks of feeding on the spider's blood, the
wasp's larva administers a chemical that completely reprograms its host's
behavior. The spider is compelled to construct a new web, but keeps repeating a
single step of the process until it has instead built a small, sturdy cocoon. The
spider then enters this silken bag and waits motionless while the larva kills it,
consumes the remainder of its nutrients and uses the cocoon as a safe place to
metamorphose.
Ampulex compressa & Cockroach Lobotomies
Also known as the jewel wasp or emerald cockroach wasp, this mere invertebrate
was administering delicate brain surgery before our kind even started to bang
rocks together. With her stinger, the female penetrates the exact point in a
cockroach's brain to disable its escape reflex. Now, the wasp needs only tug at her
victim's antennae like a dog leash and the hapless roach will follow her straight into
her burrow, where she lays a single egg on the host's body and seals up the tunnel
behind her. Over the next two weeks, the larval wasp consumes the organs of the
cockroach in just the right order to keep it alive for almost the entire process, until
the parasite is ready to pupate in its hollowed-out carcass.
Pseudacteon & decapitated ants
After those last guys, you're going to laugh at this one. The Pseudacteon are a
genus of tiny Phorid fly that exclusively parasitize ants, most notably the dread and
destructive
Solenopsis or "fire" ants. Swooping down on the first worker she can
catch, the mother fly instantaneously inserts its sharp ovipositor into the ant's thorax
and lays a single egg. Once hatched, the maggot makes its way into the worker's
head, where it actually has little to no effect on the host until the time comes to
become an adult fly. It is then that the maggot completely consumes the brain and
secretes an enzyme that dissolves the connective tissues of the ant's neck,
causing the entire head to drop clean off and function as a protective casing for the
developing pupa. I told you it was funny, wasn't it?

Ha.
Mantispidae & arachnid abortion
One of the most wicked-awesome insects you may have never known about, these
aggressive hunters are closely related to the ant-lions, earn the name "mantidfly"
with their vicious raptorial appendages, and often mimic wasps to give other
predators the impression of venomousness. Is there anything more that could
make these insects text-book-cool? How about being "brood parasitoids" of
wolf
spiders
? In several species, the tiny larvae lie almost dormant in the body of a
female spider, subsisting on her blood until she finally mates and begins to lay
eggs. At this point, the future mantidflies exit their host's body and sneak into her
silken egg sac as it's still being formed, where they can freely feast upon the
developing spiderlings
Glyptapanteles & caterpillar zombies
Oh wait, no, she totally is.

When larval
Glyptapanteles wasps tunnel back out of their caterpillar host, they still
need to cocoon themselves and undergo their own metamorphosis into adults,
which leaves them open to attack from ants, beetles, bugs and even other parasitic
wasps looking to exact some ironic justice. To better survive in this vulnerable
state, the wasps make an unwilling bodyguard of the only thing more gruesome
than themselves: a still-living, half-eaten, "zombified" caterpillar.

Riddled with holes and left with just barely enough innards to still walk around, the
caterpillar spends the following weeks curled up over the wasp cocoons, carefully
blanketing them in its own silk and flailing madly at any other insects that get too
close. It doesn't eat, it doesn't rest, it sure as hell doesn't turn into a butterfly.
Absolutely all of its energy is poured into protecting the very monsters who were
previously drilling through its entrails, and just when they emerge from the cocoons
as adult wasps, their rotting servitor at last collapses of starvation.

Dissections show that at least one wasp remains behind in the caterpillar's body,
doomed to die along with it, but we aren't quite certain how they determine which
sibling gets stuck with corpse duty, and just how it acheives such drastic overhaul
of the host's behavior is something biologists are still looking into. You know, in
between the nightmares.
Written by Jonathan C. Wojcik - Photo credits unknown or from public news outlets.
By now we know that screwing and laying eggs in other insects is par for the
course when it comes to parasitoids, but at least their hosts can look forward to the
merciful embrace of death once the wasplings are
done feasting on their viscera;
Mother Nature owes them at least that small token of mercy, right? It's not like she's
a completely cold-hearted monster!