Creature: Pest Controllers

Featured Creature: Leaf Sheep

Source: Wikipedia, https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

What animal eats sunlight, lives like a plant, and looks like a tiny animated sheep grazing underwater?

The Leaf Sheep!

Source: Wikipedia, https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

Its not a plant. Not algae. Not a trick of the light. Meet the sea slug known as the leaf sheep, one of the most extraordinary recyclers in the ocean.

Costasiella kuroshimae is a creature so small you could fit several on your fingernail, yet so biologically inventive that scientists are still trying to understand how it pulls off its most remarkable trick: stealing solar power.

At first glance, the leaf sheep doesn’t look real. Its soft, rounded body is dotted with dozens of tiny green lobes, each tipped in white, giving it the unmistakable appearance of a miniature sheep grazing on an underwater meadow. Two dark eyes peek from its head, while a pair of ear-like rhinophores tilt forward, as if listening for something just beyond human hearing. It’s easy to understand why divers often describe the first encounter as surreal — like spotting a tiny animated character wandering across a blade of algae.

Source: Wikipedia, https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

As cute as this sea slug is, what lies beyond its appearance is one of the strangest biological strategies in the ocean: kleptoplasty — literally, “stolen plastids.”

The leaf sheep feeds on algae. That alone isn’t unusual. Many marine animals graze on algae the way herbivores graze on grass. But instead of digesting everything it eats, the leaf sheep does something astonishing. It isolates the algae’s chloroplasts — the structures that perform photosynthesis — and stores them inside its own body. Those tiny green lobes covering its back, called cerata, act like living solar panels packed with borrowed chloroplasts.

The result? The leaf sheep can photosynthesize. After eating algae, it continues producing energy from sunlight, much like a plant. It still needs to eat, but sunlight supplements its energy intake — a hybrid lifestyle that blurs the line between animal and plant.

This strategy changes how we think about energy flow in ecosystems. Animals typically rely on eating other organisms for energy, while plants convert sunlight into usable fuel. The leaf sheep does both. It occupies a strange middle ground, showing that the boundaries between ecological roles aren’t always as rigid as we assume. In a world defined by specialization, the leaf sheep quietly experiments with flexibility.

This flexibility matters. In nutrient-poor environments, being able to stretch energy resources can make the difference between survival and disappearance. By holding onto chloroplasts, the leaf sheep continues generating energy even when food is scarce. It becomes less dependent on constant grazing and more resilient to fluctuations in its environment.

Resilience through Relationships

The leaf sheep’s resilience reflects a broader theme in nature: cooperation and reuse. The leaf sheep doesn’t evolve photosynthesis from scratch. Instead, it borrows an existing solution. It recycles living machinery. It becomes, in a sense, a living fusion of species.

The undersea cutie isn’t just a curiosity — it’s a living example of interconnectedness. The algae provide chloroplasts. Sunlight fuels them. The slug uses them. Energy flows across species boundaries, dissolving the idea that organisms exist in isolation.

This is exactly the kind of hidden relationship that shapes ecosystems. The leaf sheep grazes on specific algae species, helping regulate their growth. In turn, those algae form part of the foundation for small coastal ecosystems, providing habitat for microorganisms and stabilizing surfaces where other species settle. Even a creature only a few millimeters long participates in the balance of its environment.

A Scientific Mystery

Despite its ecological significance, the leaf sheep remains largely unknown outside marine biology circles. Part of that is because of where it lives — shallow tropical waters in places like Japan, Indonesia, and the Philippines. Part of it is its size. You don’t casually notice something smaller than a grain of rice unless you’re already looking closely.

Source: Wikipedia, https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/


There’s something else at play too. The leaf sheep challenges our expectations. We tend to imagine innovation as something dramatic: large predators, massive migrations, ecosystem engineers like beavers or corals. The leaf sheep reminds us that evolutionary creativity often happens quietly, at microscopic scales, in overlooked corners of the world.

It also raises scientific questions that researchers are still trying to answer. How long do the stolen chloroplasts remain functional? How does the leaf sheep prevent its immune system from destroying them? Do the chloroplasts continue repairing themselves, or are they slowly replaced through feeding? These mysteries are still being explored, and each answer reshapes how we understand cooperation between species.

There’s also a deeper question embedded in the leaf sheep’s existence: how many other organisms are quietly blurring biological boundaries? If one animal can borrow photosynthesis, what other hidden partnerships exist in nature that we haven’t yet recognized?

The leaf sheep also changes how we think about scale. We often focus conservation on charismatic megafauna — whales, elephants, wolves. But ecosystems are built from countless small interactions. Remove enough tiny grazers, recyclers, and specialists, and the larger structures begin to wobble. The leaf sheep represents that hidden scaffolding: small, quiet, but part of the fabric that holds ecosystems together.

From a biomimicry perspective, the leaf sheep offers a provocative idea — borrowing and integrating existing systems rather than building new ones from scratch. Human technologies often aim to optimize efficiency, reduce energy use, and create hybrid systems. The leaf sheep does all three, using biological materials, sunlight, and cooperation. It’s a tiny reminder that innovation in nature often emerges through reuse, not reinvention.

All of this is what makes the leaf sheep so compelling. It doesn’t dominate its environment. It doesn’t engineer landscapes. It doesn’t migrate across oceans. Instead, it demonstrates a subtler power — adaptability, cooperation, and efficiency at the smallest scale.

In a changing climate, those traits matter more than ever. Flexibility, energy efficiency, and symbiosis are strategies ecosystems rely on to remain resilient. The leaf sheep embodies all three.

So the next time you picture a solar-powered organism, you might imagine leaves stretching toward the sky. But somewhere in shallow tropical waters, a tiny green “sheep” grazes quietly, soaking up sunlight, and rewriting the rules of what an animal can be. 

Bio4Climate intern Allison Eckard came across the Leaf Sheep as part of her studies and was inspired by its incredibly small size and cartoon-like appearance to learn more about how it contributes to its undersea environment. 

Allison Eckard is a senior Biology major with minors in Health and Environmental Science at Lesley University with a passion for ecological literacy and science communication. Through her internship with Bio4Climate, she explores the hidden relationships between neural systems, biodiversity, and climate resilience. She especially enjoys helping readers discover the surprising ways evolution shapes life in the smallest—and most unexpected—places.

References

  • Rumpho, M. E., Worful, J. M., Lee, J., Kannan, K., Tyler, M. S., Bhattacharya, D., Moustafa, A., & Manhart, J. R. (2008). Horizontal gene transfer of the algal nuclear gene psbO to the photosynthetic sea slug Elysia chlorotica. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 105(46), 17867–17871. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.0804968105
  • Christa, G., Woehle, C., Wägele, H., & Gould, S. B. (2015). The plastid in the mollusc Elysia chlorotica: stolen photosynthesis. Journal of Experimental Botany, 66(15), 4255–4266. https://doi.org/10.1093/jxb/erv138
  • Rumpho, M. E., Pelletreau, K. N., Moustafa, A., & Bhattacharya, D. (2011). The making of a photosynthetic animal. Journal of Experimental Biology, 214(2), 303–311. https://doi.org/10.1242/jeb.046540
  • Maeda, T., Hirose, E., Chikaraishi, Y., Kawato, M., Takishita, K., Yoshida, T., Verbruggen, H., & Maruyama, T. (2012). Algivore or phototroph? Plastid retention and carbon/nitrogen acquisition in the photosynthetic sea slug Costasiella kuroshimae. Biology Letters, 8(4), 543–546. https://doi.org/10.1098/rsbl.2012.0028
  • Clark, K. B., Jensen, K. R., & Stirts, H. M. (1990). Survey for functional kleptoplasty among West Atlantic Ascoglossa (=Sacoglossa) (Mollusca, Opisthobranchia). Veliger, 33(4), 339–345.
  • Jensen, K. R. (1997). Evolution of the Sacoglossa (Mollusca, Opisthobranchia) and the ecological associations with their food plants. Evolutionary Ecology, 11(3), 301–335. https://doi.org/10.1023/A:1018428420456
  • WoRMS Editorial Board. (2024). Costasiella kuroshimae Ichikawa, 1993. World Register of Marine Species. https://www.marinespecies.org

Featured Creature: Dumbo Octopus

NOAA Ocean Exploration & Research from USA, CC BY-SA 2.0 , via Wikimedia Commons

What creature looks like a cartoon elephant, lives nearly four miles beneath the ocean’s surface, and moves by “flying” through the water?

The Dumbo Octopus! 

Dumbo Octopus
NOAA Ocean Exploration & Research from USA, CC BY-SA 2.0 , via Wikimedia Commons

Bio4Climate intern Allison Eckard from Lesley University shares her fascination with this rarely seen deep sea creature. 

I first saw a dumbo octopus in a deep-sea video, and my immediate thought was: there’s no way that’s real! It didn’t move like anything I recognized. No darting, no sudden bursts. Just a slow, drifting motion, as if it were suspended in space. 

And in a way, it is. 

The deep ocean, the place dumbo octopuses call home, is about as close as Earth gets to another world.

Dumbo octopuses, from the genus Grimpoteuthis, live at depths of roughly 3,000 to 7,000 meters. That far down, there is no sunlight, the water temperature is near-freezing, and pressure is extreme. Plants cannot grow, food is scarce, and whatever nourishment does exist often arrives slowly, drifting down from the surface as marine snow. The dumbo octopus exists in an environment defined by limitation and is one of the most elegant examples of adaptation to this extreme world.

Built for Restraint

Persistence is what makes the dumbo octopus so remarkable. Unlike shallow-water octopuses, they do not rely on jet propulsion to get around. Instead, they use two large, ear-like fins to gently propel through the water. The movement is slow and rhythmic, and it does not look much like swimming. It looks like flying. 

This style of motion is not only beautiful to watch; it is also highly energy efficient, which is critical for survival in an underwater world where energy is everything and there is no room for waste.

Because energy is so limited, dumbo octopuses are not built for dramatic chases or flashy escapes. They drift along the seafloor and use their arms to gather small organisms such as crustaceans and worms. They don’t tear their food apart. They swallow it whole. No drama. No excess. Just enough.

They’ve also let go of things other octopuses rely on. They don’t have ink sacs because there’s no need for defense through spectacle. They don’t need to create a dramatic ink cloud escape because there’s nowhere to hide in the same way, and encounters with predators are relatively rare.

Instead, dumbos depend on low visibility, minimal movement, and the quiet advantage of being hard to notice in the first place. They survive by restraint, not intimidation.  

Their bodies reflect this too. They’re soft, gelatinous, and built to withstand pressure. Their form allows them to hover just above the ocean floor, conserving energy while staying mobile enough to feed. Even their reproduction has adapted to unpredictability. Females can carry eggs at different stages of development, allowing them to reproduce whenever conditions are favorable rather than being tied to a strict seasonal cycle. In an environment where timing is uncertain, flexibility is survival.

A Hidden Climate System

The dumbo’s adaptability makes it fascinating not only as a creature, but as part of a larger ecosystem. Even in the deep ocean, nothing exists in isolation. Dumbo octopuses are part of a food web that includes microscopic drifting matter, small invertebrates, and larger predators. By feeding on small organisms, they help regulate populations, move energy through deep water ecosystems, shape chemistry, carbon balance, and food systems throughout the entire body of water. They help break down and recycle organic matter.  

Nothing exists in isolation, not even in the deepest parts of the ocean. Dumbo octopuses are part of a food web that includes microscopic drifting matter (marine snow), small invertebrates, and larger predators. By feeding on small organisms, dumbos help regulate populations and contribute to the flow of energy through deep-sea ecosystems. Yet again, nature is climate. 

Even the creatures we rarely see are part of systems that shape the stability of the entire planet and these unseen ecosystems matter more than we might realize. The deep ocean plays a major role in carbon storage, nutrient cycling, and global climate regulation.

But here’s where things get complicated. For a long time, the deep sea was considered too remote to be significantly impacted by humans. That’s no longer true. Emerging industries like deep-sea mining threaten to disturb fragile habitats that took thousands, if not millions, of years to form. Fishing methods that drag heavy nets along the ocean floor can disrupt seafloor ecosystems.Climate change is altering ocean chemistry, affecting even the deepest environments. 

The deep sea remains one of the least explored regions on Earth, and the dumbo octopus is part of that mystery. We don’t yet know how many species of dumbo octopus exist, nor do we know their population sizes. 

We are still discovering the basics of how these systems function—while simultaneously putting them at risk.

A Lesson for Restoration

From a biomimicry perspective, there’s something fascinating here as well. The dumbo octopus represents efficiency over excess, movement adapted to constraint, and survival through balance rather than dominance. Their slow, controlled motion has even inspired interest in soft robotics—machines designed to move gently and efficiently through complex environments. Not by forcing their way through—but by adapting to what’s already there.

If the tuatara is a lesson in persistence across time, the dumbo octopus is a lesson in thriving within limits. It doesn’t rush. It doesn’t overpower. It doesn’t waste energy trying to be something it’s not. It simply exists—perfectly adapted to a world that, at first glance, seems unlivable.

And maybe that’s the quiet takeaway. Some of the most important parts of Earth’s systems are out of sight, slow-moving, and easy to overlook. But they’re still holding everything together.

Allison Eckard is a senior Biology major with minors in Health and Environmental Science at Lesley University with a passion for ecological literacy and science communication. Through her internship with Bio4Climate, she explores the hidden relationships between neural systems, biodiversity, and climate resilience. She especially enjoys helping readers discover the surprising ways evolution shapes life in the smallest—and most unexpected—places.

References

  • NOAA / deep-sea cephalopods: Vecchione, M. (2019). ROV Observations on Reproduction by Deep-Sea Cephalopods in the Central Pacific Ocean. Frontiers in Marine Science, 6, 403. https://doi.org/10.3389/fmars.2019.00403
  • MBARI observations: Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute. Octopus Garden. https://www.mbari.org/project/the-octopus-garden/
  • Collins, M. A. et al. (2001): Collins, M. A., Yau, C., Allcock, L., & Thurston, M. H. (2001). Distribution of deep-water benthic and bentho-pelagic cephalopods from the north-east Atlantic. Journal of the Marine Biological Association of the United Kingdom, 81(1), 105–117.
  • Vecchione, M. et al. (2014): The study of deep-sea cephalopods. Advances in Marine Biology, 67, 235–359. https://doi.org/10.1016/B978-0-12-800287-2.00003-2
  • National Geographic – Dumbo octopus overview: National Geographic. Dumbo Octopus Facts. https://www.nationalgeographic.com/animals/invertebrates/facts/dumbo-octopus

Featured Creature: Night-flying Moth

What animal evolved ears on its ribcage, can detect sounds far beyond the range of human hearing, and performs dazzling aerial evasive maneuvers in total darkness—all to avoid being eaten mid-flight? 

The Night-flying Moth! 

Night-flying Moth
Source: Wiki Commons

This week’s Featured Creature is written by Allison Eckard. Allison is a student at Lesley University studying Animal Behavior. She is interning with Bio4Climate this spring.  

The Moth That Learned to Hear Death 

The first time I learned that some moths have ears on the sides of their thorax, I assumed it was a delightful biological oddity. They certainly didn’t evolve ears to hear music! Instead, they evolved them to hear bats. 

In one of my animal behavior classes, I remember seeing the neural pathway drawn on the board: sensory receptor → interneuron → motor neuron → muscle. Clean. Elegant. Survival encoded in milliseconds. That was the moment it clicked for me. Biodiversity isn’t just about species existing. It’s about systems in motion. It’s about evolutionary arms races unfolding in the dark. And the night sky is full of them. 

Life in the Ultrasonic Battlefield 

Bats hunt using echolocation. They emit high-frequency ultrasonic pulses, typically between 20 and 100 kHz, and listen for the returning echoes to detect and track prey. To human ears, this world is completely silent. To a moth, it is full of alarms. 

Many nocturnal moth species have evolved tympanal organs—simple “ears” located on the thorax—that are exquisitely tuned to ultrasonic frequencies. For moths, a split-second neural decision can mean the difference between life and death. Some species can detect bat calls specifically in the 20 to 50 kHz range. Inside those ears are two primary receptor neurons, typically called the A1 and A2 cells, and their division of labor is a marvel of minimalist engineering. 

A1 receptors are highly sensitive and respond to distant bat calls—the first whisper of danger from across the night sky. When A1 fires, the moth subtly alters its flight path, steering away from the threat before it even registers as a genuine emergency. 

A2 receptors only fire when a bat is very close—when the sound intensity spikes into the danger zone. When A2 fires, the moth throws all caution aside and performs drastic evasive maneuvers: dives, loops, and sudden power-off drops toward the ground.  

This is stimulus filtering at its finest. Ignore irrelevant background noise; respond only to biologically meaningful signals. Evolution has shaped moth nervous systems to prioritize exactly the frequencies associated with their primary predators. In a very real sense, the moth’s brain has been sculpted by bats. 

An Arms Race in the Dark 

The relationship between bats and moths is a textbook example of coevolution—an ongoing, reciprocal evolutionary arms race. Bats evolve more precise echolocation; moths evolve better detection and faster evasive flight. Some bats shift to quieter or higher frequencies to “fly under the radar” of moth hearing; some moths respond by widening their auditory range. The battlefield reshapes both combatants, generation by generation. 

bat chasing moth
Source: Conservation International

Some moth lineages have taken defense a step further. Certain tiger moths (family Erebidae) produce rapid ultrasonic clicks that may actually jam bat sonar or advertise to the bat that the moth is chemically unpalatable—a kind of acoustic warning label. The night sky, far from being the quiet backdrop we perceive, is an adaptive battlefield alive with ultrasonic signals, countermeasures, and counter-countermeasures. 

More than Just Predator and Prey: Moths as Ecological Connectors 

It would be easy to focus on the drama of the bat-moth chase and miss a larger story. Moths are not merely prey. They are pollinators, nutrient cyclers, and food web anchors that connect plant and animal communities across entire ecosystems (Macgregor et al., 2015). Many night-blooming plants depend almost entirely on moths for pollination—relationships that have co-evolved over millions of years, as intricate as any bat-moth interaction. 

Yet nocturnal insect populations are declining globally. Long-term studies have documented dramatic losses in flying insect biomass across multiple regions, driven by habitat loss, pesticide use, and climate change. Among the most overlooked and underappreciated threats is artificial light at night (ALAN).  

moths around light bulb
Source: WikiCommons

Light pollution disrupts moth navigation, mating behavior, and the very predator-detection systems we have been admiring—drawing moths toward lights where they are exposed, exhausted, and vulnerable (Owens et al., 2020). 

The consequences cascade. Fewer moths mean less food for bats, whose own populations are already stressed by disease and habitat loss. It means fewer pollinators for night-blooming wildflowers. It means weakened food webs from the ground up. The bat-moth arms race, so finely tuned over millions of years, cannot simply be paused and resumed. Once the players are gone, the relationship dissolves. 

What Moths Teach us about Engineering and Intelligence 

From a biomimicry perspective, the moth auditory system offers a humbling lesson. With only two primary receptor cells, a moth executes rapid, context-sensitive, life-saving decisions in real time—distinguishing a distant threat from an immediate one and responding proportionately to each. In an era where we design elaborate sensor networks and AI systems to perform exactly this kind of layered threat detection, there is something worth pausing over: evolution already solved this problem, elegantly and cheaply, hundreds of millions of years ago. 

Open questions remain. How flexible are moth neural responses under rapid environmental change? Can populations adapt quickly enough to shifting bat echolocation frequencies, increasing anthropogenic noise, or the novel sensory landscape created by artificial light? These are not merely academic curiosities—they are questions about whether a coevolutionary relationship refined over geological time can survive the pace of human-caused change. 

What We Can Do 

Protecting biodiversity means protecting relationships, not just species. The bat-moth arms race is one conversation in a vast, interconnected web of such dialogues. When we protect the conditions that allow it to continue—intact habitats, dark skies, pesticide-free landscapes, and the native plant communities that support insect diversity—we protect the whole fabric. 

Practical steps include: 

  • Reducing or eliminating pesticide use, which directly depletes moth populations and the prey base for bats 
  • Supporting dark-sky initiatives and switching to wildlife-friendly outdoor lighting to limit the disorienting effects of ALAN 
  • Protecting and restoring bat habitats, including old trees, caves, and undisturbed buildings that serve as roosts 
  • Planting native species, especially night-blooming flowers that support moth populations and the broader pollination networks they anchor 

When a moth detects the ultrasonic pulse of an approaching bat and drops into a power dive—a maneuver honed across millions of years of reciprocal evolution—we are witnessing one of the most ancient and intricate dialogues in the natural world. That dialogue is part of the climate story. And it is worth listening to. 

Allison Eckard is a senior Biology major with minors in Health and Environmental Science at Lesley University with a passion for ecological literacy and science communication. Through her internship with Bio4Climate, she explores the hidden relationships between neural systems, biodiversity, and climate resilience. She especially enjoys helping readers discover the surprising ways evolution shapes life in the smallest—and most unexpected—places.

References 

Corcoran, A. J., Barber, J. R., & Conner, W. E. (2009). Tiger moth jams bat sonar. Science, 325(5938), 325–327. 

Fullard, J. H. (1998). The sensory coevolution of moths and bats. In R. R. Hoy, A. N. Popper, & R. R. Fay (Eds.), Comparative Hearing: Insects (pp. 279–326). Springer. 

Hallmann, C. A., Sorg, M., Jongejans, E., et al. (2017). More than 75 percent decline over 27 years in total flying insect biomass in protected areas. PLOS ONE, 12(10), e0185809. 

Macgregor, C. J., Pocock, M. J. O., Fox, R., & Evans, D. M. (2015). Pollination by nocturnal Lepidoptera, and the effects of light pollution: a review. Ecological Entomology, 40(3), 187–198. 

Owens, A. C. S., Cochard, P., Durrant, J., Farnworth, B., Perkin, E. K., & Sondergaard, B. (2020). Light pollution is a driver of insect declines. Biological Conservation, 241, 108259. 

Roeder, K. D. (1962). The behaviour of free flying moths in the presence of artificial ultrasonic pulses. Animal Behaviour, 10(3–4), 300–304. 

Schnitzler, H.-U., & Kalko, E. K. V. (2001). Echolocation by insect-eating bats. BioScience, 51(7), 557–569. 

Ter Hofstede, H. M., & Ratcliffe, J. M. (2016). Evolutionary escalation: the bat–moth arms race. Journal of Experimental Biology, 219(11), 1589–1602. 

Featured Creature: Black Drongo

What small but fearless songbird can astonish with its aerial acrobatics and is always ready to battle much bigger birds for dominance?

The Black Drongo!

Photo by Viswaprem Anbarasapandian on Unsplash

A songbird with fearless attitude, the black drongo, or Dicrurus macrocercus, can be found across Southeast Asia. I first encountered this amazing avian when visiting India, where drongos could be seen across the treetops of Delhi and Kolkata. Their variety of calls and distinctive two-pronged tail caught my attention, and the more I learned about these creatures, the more I came to respect their cleverness and adaptability. 

Some consider drongos to be a symbol of good fortune. This may be related to their ecological role controlling the population of certain insects that can prove to be major pests in agricultural areas. Whether due to their beauty, their singing talents, or contributions to ecological balance, black drongos’ deserve our respect and high regard.

Photo by Vinoth Chandar (CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons)

Strength in numbers

One of the most amazing characteristics of these songbirds is their brazen behavior. Though they have an average size of about 11 inches (or 28 cm), black drongos don’t shy away from conflict with much bigger neighbors. 

During nesting season, when birds of prey pose a threat to drongos’ nests, drongos have been known to band together and fight back. They employ the technique of ‘mobbing’ the predators, gathering in numbers to harass the threat and drive it out of the area. In certain cases, drongos have taken to this behavior year-round, preemptively “cleaning up the neighborhood” before bigger birds have a chance to locate and disrupt their nests. 

Naturally, other small birds have come to appreciate this service, and species like bulbuls, orioles, doves, and pigeons tend to nest near drongos to enjoy their protection. One beautiful display of mutualism has been recorded in which a red-vented bulbul fed the chicks of a black drongo. Talk about community building!

Photo by Viswaprem Anbarasapandian on Unsplash

As drongos’ forked tails may suggest, these birds are built to be incredibly aerodynamic. They often dart through the air in pursuit of their insect prey, and have been observed on daring escapades through fiery skies, as farmers using seasonal burns on their agricultural fields cause insects in those habitats to flee. The drongos happily browse the feast in these dramatic events, and in general they’re not too picky about how they get their meal. 

Black drongos will fly near tree branches to disturb insects and pick them off, or forage for grubs and caterpillars on the ground. They’ll eat cicadas, grasshoppers, ants, wasps, beetles, dragonflies, and more insects, and will even occasionally consume bigger prey like small birds, reptiles, bats, and fish. Living along forest edges, farmland, meadows, wetlands, and fields, black drongos benefit by having a wide diet that can suit their circumstances.

Photo by Maya Dutta

Clever callers

In addition to their flying skills, drongos use their vocal talents to rustle up a good meal. These birds are far from one-note. They have tremendous range in the calls they produce, and have become quite adept in the art of mimicry. Drongos sometimes sound alarms, causing other creatures to flee and abandon their food, leaving it up for grabs.  

Fork-tailed drongos (the black drongo’s African cousins) have been observed tricking meerkats in this way, and you can watch their wily ways on BBC Earth:

Black drongos of Asia do the same, imitating the call of the shikra (a small raptor) to scare myna birds away from their meals, and swooping in to enjoy the spoils. Perhaps they aren’t the best neighbors after all… 

Drongos’ variety of calls shows just how complex their communication can be. In order to mate, nest, forage, feed, mob, and play, the drongo requires a wide vocabulary, and while its most common sound is a two note ‘tee-hee’, drongos are capable of many more songs and sounds to express themselves. Listen in here:

Drongos demonstrate how using your voice and your talents cleverly can help you adapt to any number of circumstances. On that note, I’ll fly off now!

Maya

Maya Dutta is an environmental advocate and ecosystem restorer working to spread understanding on the key role of biodiversity in shaping the climate and the water, carbon, nutrient and energy cycles we rely on. She is passionate about climate change adaptation and mitigation and the ways that community-led ecosystem restoration can fight global climate change while improving the livelihood and equity of human communities. Having grown up in New York City and lived in cities all her life, Maya is interested in creating more natural infrastructure, biodiversity, and access to nature and ecological connection in urban areas.

Sources:
https://www.tribuneindia.com/news/schools/drongo-the-kotwal-among-birds-190571
https://jlrexplore.com/explore/focus/drongos-of-karnataka
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_drongo
https://ebird.org/species/bladro1

Featured Creature: Wasps

What creature taught humans to make paper, builds with mud and can pollinate a flower inside a fruit?

Wasps!

Young paper wasp queen guarding her nest and eggs.
Alvesgaspar (CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons)

When creatures possess a defense mechanism capable of hurting us (like a sting), we categorize them as ‘dangerous.’ When they look differently than we do, we categorize them as ‘strange,’ and when they get attracted to man-made cities or agricultural fields due to the buffet of food we lay out for them, we categorize them as a ‘nuisance.’ When it comes to wasps, we call them all the above. 

Whenever a creature has a negative reputation, people wonder, “Why do we even need them? Can’t we just get rid of them?” It’s a painful reminder of the Ego mindset, the one that sets us above other species. But if we take a moment to learn about other creatures, especially the ones we consider “pests,” we soon move towards an Eco mindset. We begin to realize that all species are important for balancing Earth’s ecosystems, and that each individual brings something unique and irreplaceable to this planet. When we embody the Eco mindset, we no longer see humans as dominant, but as equal participants in nature’s systems.

Wide Range

The term ‘wasps’ includes a variety of species that are generally separated by their behavior (and not all of them are yellow and black – in fact, only about 1% of wasps sport those colors). Social wasps, such as yellowjackets and hornets, live in colonies with hierarchies similar to bees and ants while solitary wasps, such as potter wasps, do not. Social wasps start a new colony every spring. Each colony begins with a queen, and she will raise a few worker wasps to enlarge the nest and bring food. Once the nest is spacious enough, the queen will lay eggs, and by the end of the summer there will be thousands of colony members. Throughout autumn, all wasps will perish except for a few new queens. Over the winter, this new set of royalty will find shelter in a fallen log or an abandoned burrow, and when spring returns they will venture out to create new colonies. 

A social wasp (Vespula germanica)
Alvesgaspar (CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons)

Wonderful Architects

Wasps, unlike honeybees, cannot produce wax. To build nests, most species create a paper-like material out of wood pulp and shape the material into cells perfect for rearing. The manufacturing process involves gathering wood fibers from strips of bark, softening the wood by chewing and mixing it with saliva, and spitting it back out to form the cells. Some species, like Potter Wasps, prefer to design nests from mud.

Theory has it that 2,000 years ago, a Chinese official named Cai Lun invented our modern use of paper after watching wasps build a nest in his garden. So next time you read a book, write a note, or receive one of our letters in the mail, you can thank wasps for their ingenious skills!

Although many of us may not enjoy having a wasp nest in or near our home, it’s best to leave them alone when possible. Remember that a colony only lasts for a season, and once the wasps leave you can remove the remaining nest. If you need more convincing for leaving wasp nests intact, keep reading to learn how these creatures contribute to the environment.

Work-oriented

Despite the lack of recognition, wasps contribute to man-made gardens and agricultural fields by eating other ‘pests,’ or insects, that harm crops. Their wide-ranging diet and wide geographical range (they exist on every continent except Antarctica) means they contribute to human food sources worldwide. Wasps eat flies and grasshoppers, and will feed aphids to their growing larvae. Some also eat nectar, making them pollinators. Around the world, many farmers consider them essential for their food-production methods. When it comes to food security, we can thank wasps for looking after our crops.

Cuckoo Wasp (Chrysididae)
Vengolis (CC BY-SA 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons)

Well-balanced

I recently had my first fig, grown organically without any pesticides or chemical fertilizers, ever. It was delicious, and when I asked the manager of Sarvodaya Farm for another, we began to discuss the important role of wasps in fig reproduction.

Although figs are considered a fruit, they are actually an inverted flower. The fig blooms inside the pod, rather than outside, and so it relies on insect pollination to reproduce. It takes a special pollinator to crawl through a small opening and into the fig’s pod to bring the flower its much-needed pollen. Wasps like to lay their eggs in cavities, so they developed a mutually beneficial (or symbiotic) relationship with fig trees. Wasps get a home protected from predators to raise their young, and figs get to reproduce. 

Some species of wasps have developed a similar mutualistic relationship with orchids. The extinction of wasps would not only be detrimental for figs, orchids, and other plants that rely on insect eaters or pollinators, it would also be tragic for the many organisms that eat those plants (which, as a new fig fanatic, now includes me). 

My first fig ever, from Sarvodaya Farms, where I learned about the mutually beneficial relationship between figs and wasps

Warriors of disease

In case the invention of paper, crop protection, and pollination were still not enough to impress you, one species of wasp found in Brazil also produces a toxin in its venom that contains cancer-fighting properties. Even the substance that enables some wasps to kill larger prey contains healing properties. 

By writing about creatures a lot of people see as ‘pests,’ I hope to do my part in speaking against the way we view and treat other animals. I also hope these stories encourage you to take the time to learn from our non-human neighbors. Cai Lun demonstrated the incredible tools we can design when we look to nature for inspiration, a practice known as biomimicry. The solutions are all around us, but it’s up to us to be still, inquisitive, and open-minded, and to let nature show off her magic. 

Wishfully yours,

Tania

Tania graduated from Tufts University with a Master of Science in Animals and Public Policy. Her academic research projects focused on wildlife conservation efforts, and the impacts that human activities have on wild habitats. As a writer and activist, Tania emphasizes the connections between planet, human, and animal health. She is a co-founder of the podcast Closing the Gap, and works on outreach and communications for Sustainable Harvest International. She loves hiking, snorkeling, and advocating for social justice.

Featured Creature: Banded Mongoose

Photo from pixabay.com

Which creature enjoys social gatherings, is well adapted to its habitat, and can be very altruistic?

Photo from pixabay.com

The Banded Mongoose is a small mammal with a mass of approximately ≤2kg (or 4 lbs) found in (and indigenous to) various parts of Africa. While most other mongoose species live a solitary life, the banded mongoose is gregarious living in groups of approximately 5-40 individuals with at least one breeding male and female. They are named so due to the black stripes across their greyish-brown dorsal area (back) while their ventral area (chest and stomach) is lighter than other parts. This species is commonly known for its ability and behavior to attack, kill, and eat snakes – even venomous ones! 

Photo from commons.wikimedia.org

Adaptation to their environment

Banded mongooses are mostly found occupying covered areas like savannahs, open forests, and grasslands for vigilance. They sleep and nurture their young in dens such as abandoned termite mounds, buildings, and even under bridges. By possessing short muscular limbs with strong claws, banded mongooses can dig to find food and get creative at creating and modifying their dens. Because they live in large groups as compared with other mongooses, their burrows have many entrances to ensure their escape during an attack and for sufficient ventilation. Despite having such nice dens, they are not sedentary to the specific den but rather frequently move from place to place every few days to avoid and distract their enemies. However, they can return to their favorite den after a certain time. In addition, their body color allows them to blend with several habitats and hence ensures their safety.

Photo by Dušan veverkolog on Unsplash

Like other animals, banded mongoose adults,  especially males, are responsible for the safety of the whole group. Unlike many other animals, all adult members are fully responsible for raising their young who are born synchronously (all matured female members get pregnant and give birth at the same time). Having muscular limbs, banded mongooses can stand by using their hind limbs just like their cousins (meerkats) to ensure the area is safe. 

These animals also exhibit altruistic behaviours whereby adults are ready to give up their life for the safety of the group. They were recorded standing and fighting against lions, birds of prey, and other animals, and while doing so other group members evacuated from the area. Additionally, since they are small in size, they move in groups and close to each other so that they may be seen as one large animal. And as they move, the young ones are located in the middle and the adult ones around them.

Diet and behavioral adaptation

The banded mongoose is a meso-carnivore with a diet consisting primarily of invertebrates such as beetles, millipedes, scorpions and others. Nevertheless, they also eat vertebrates such as snakes, rats, amphibians, mice, young birds and eggs. And in the case of plants, they eat wild fruits (if they’re available). Normally, they move together while locating the food area but each member finds and eats its food. In urban areas, they are mostly found around damp areas during their mealtime because there is plenty of food there, and then they rest in the covered areas mostly at noon to avoid the day heat.

On other hand, banded mongooses cope with food problems by using different symbiotic relationships with other animals like birds, warthogs (watch the video below to see this in action), elephants, and others (see more from attached YouTube links in the References). In this way, they become more successful in foraging and thriving in nature. They also use other animals, especially birds, to be alerted of various threats around them.

Though they are social animals, banded mongooses also exhibit inter-group territorial behaviour and their territories are marked with various scents, especially urine. Not only are territories scent-marked but so are group members. This is well seen when new pups are taken out for their first foraging and adults urinate over the young ones. When two different groups meet, they normally fight and the winning group takes over the area that they fought for. However, during the fight, some mature males and females from each group may mate.

Communication

Banded mongooses mainly communicate through sounds and scents. They possess various sound pitches, each with a different meaning and message to other members. They also developed anal and cheek glands which assist in the marking of their territory and young. They have a well-developed sense of smell, which they use to detect food.

Threats

Currently, banded mongooses are not faced with any critical danger and are listed as a“Least Concern” species due to their large population number and distribution in most parts of Africa. But this does not mean they don’t need any concern at all. I found some of them died in road accidents, and for those in urban areas most people used to attack them. Remember, even extinct species were once “Least Concern” and where are they now? Therefore, let’s give attention to every species in the world before their situation becomes worse.

Lesson to humanity

From such a small animal, we may think that there is nothing to gain, but there is a lot to learn from it. Banded mongooses, as said before, are ready to sacrifice their safety and even life just to make sure their groups are safe. This act shows love for others, something which nowadays very few people can do to others regardless of whether the one in need is their relative or not. I also like the way they raise their family. All group members are fully responsible for that, and if people were to do the same, there would be no street children and other problems also could be solved.

This lesson shows how we can learn from banded mongooses, but it is not just this species that we can learn things from. The whole of nature provides us with enough knowledge, materials and services that are essential for our survival. Therefore, let’s love nature and put our individual or organizational efforts into conserving it to ensure its natural existence lasts and more generations to come will continue to gain what we are gaining now. 

On behalf of mongooses everywhere, thank you!

Vitalis

Featured Creature: Ladybug

Photo by Roberto Navarro on Unsplash

What tiny creature brings luck to farmers and other folks all over the globe?

The ladybug! 

Photo by Roberto Navarro on Unsplash

One Lucky Lady

Ladybugs, or beetles of the family Coccinellidae, are small, often colorful rounded insects beloved by children’s rhymes and gardeners alike. 

Ladybugs are thought to be a sign of luck in many cultures and urban myths. Whether it’s because of their cuteness or their supposed powers of good fortune, people often hold ladybugs as an exception to their aversion to insects. Perhaps the lovely ladybug can pave the way to a more widespread appreciation for insects and their importance in the web of life. 

There are a variety of superstitions or myths around ladybugs, as people of different cultures have developed different takes on what kind of luck this little critter brings. Some view ladybugs as portents of love, and say that the redder they are the more luck they bring. Others say that it’s the number of spots that count – predicting the number of years of good luck you’ll have, or the number of months until your greatest wish comes true, depending on whom you ask.

In Norway, it’s said that if two people catch sight of a ladybug at the same time, they will fall in love. Whether ladybugs are said to bring luck in love or in the year’s coming harvest, it’s widely believed that killing a ladybug confers bad luck, so steer clear!

Photo by Dustin Humes on Unsplash

Doing their part 

In all likelihood, ladybugs have become associated with luck because of the very real help they provide to farmers and growers. Ladybugs prey on aphids, mealybugs, and other insects that can damage crops by latching on and sapping them of their nutrients. While a number of artificial pesticides can be used to control such problems, these dangerous chemicals often have unintended consequences, harming not only the insects they target, but also killing beneficial insects, running off and seeping into groundwater, poisoning soil, and altering ecosystems. Ladybugs provide a natural alternative to chemical pesticides because they target the pests specifically, leaving plants, other insects and animals, and humans all unharmed. 

Ladybug larvae feast on aphids, mealybugs, and other soft-bodied insects, and can consume up to 50 aphids a day. They continue to maintain this diet in their pupal and adult forms, and may eat up to 5000 insects in a lifetime. Even through metamorphosis, some things never change! 

Check out this short video showing the life cycle of the ladybug:

A diverse family

Also known as “ladybirds” or “lady beetles”, ladybugs are found pretty much everywhere around the globe, and there are over 5000 different species of them. While ladybugs (at least here in the Northeast US) are famous for sporting a pattern of red shell with black spots, they can actually have a variety of colors and patterns. 

File from entomart.be

Their bright color and patterning signals to predators that they should stay away, or face a very disappointing meal. Indeed, when under threat, ladybugs release a distasteful fluid from their joints. As is often the case with many other familiar plants and animals, these insects are more than meets the eye. 

Ladybugs are a great example of a creature that is beloved for its contributions to its ecosystem, enabling plant life and complex networks of creatures to thrive. When we pay attention to the way other organisms help out in their own habitats, we come to realize that you don’t need luck when you have healthy ecosystems. By using natural means of pest control and working with other life forms to keep systems in balance, we can make our own good fortune. 

Fingers crossed,

Maya

Maya Dutta is an environmental advocate and ecosystem restorer working to spread understanding on the key role of biodiversity in shaping the climate and the water, carbon, nutrient and energy cycles we rely on. She is passionate about climate change adaptation and mitigation and the ways that community-led ecosystem restoration can fight global climate change while improving the livelihood and equity of human communities. Having grown up in New York City and lived in cities all her life, Maya is interested in creating more natural infrastructure, biodiversity, and access to nature and ecological connection in urban areas.

Sources:
https://entomology.ca.uky.edu/ef105
https://kids.nationalgeographic.com/animals/invertebrates/facts/ladybug
https://organiccontrol.com/lady-bugs/