Runner up, Ecology and Environmental Science category
Invincible ants by Thomas Endlein.
Pitcher plants are carnivorous, drawing nutrients from trapped and digested insects.
The species shown here (Nepenthes bicalcarata) secretes sweet nectar on the rim and fang-like structures, which are very slippery for most insects except for one specialised ant (Camponotus schmitzii).
The ants live in the curled hollow tendrils of the plant and manage to climb in and out of the pitcher without any difficulties to steal a bit of nectar, as shown here
Kate Umbers was hiking through Australia’s Snowy Mountains in the autumn of 2008, when she saw her first mountain katydid—a thumb-sized insect with the colour and texture of a dead leaf.
“I recognised it from the guide books and picked it up excitedly,” she says. “It immediately vomited and flashed its bright colours.”
Emphasis on bright. The insect’s dull brown wing casings flew apart to reveal vivid bands of red, black, and electric blue.
The inconspicuous leaf suddenly transformed into a garish Christmas bauble.
Many animals do something similar. When a threat gets close, they flash bright colours, show off distracting eyespots, strike aggressive poses, and spray off-putting chemicals.
They hiss, rattle, puff, and arch. These spectacles are called deimatic displays and they are supposedly meant to distract or intimate predators. Bright colours, in particular, are often messages that scream:
“I AM TOXIC; DO NOT EAT ME.” For some animals, these claims are bluffs. For the mountain katydid, they are genuine warnings—this insect is full of foul-tasting chemicals.
But Umbers noticed something unusual about its displays: the katydid only flashed its colours after an attack.
“I was struck by how easy it was to catch them and how little resistance they put up,” she says.
“They waited until they had been grabbed before revealing any defences.”
Researchers have long been fascinated with ant rafts. These floating mats form during rain storms and floods and are composed of thousands of individual insects.
Scientists have found that the living rafts possess their own unique material properties, displaying buoyancy and behaving, alternately, like a solid and like a liquid.
How the ants manage to create such engineering masterpieces, however, has remained largely unknown.
Now, researchers have discovered one architectural secret behind the ant rafts. The ants, it turns out, cling to one another using all six of their legs—a single ant can have up to 20 of its comrades’ legs grabbing its body.
The Georgia Institute of Technology researchers found that 99 percent of ant legs are gripping another ant, meaning “there’s no free loaders” when it comes to hitching a ride on the rafts, they said in a statement.
Scientists didn’t discover this trick earlier because it’s exceedingly difficult to look inside those dense balls of insects.
To get around this problem, the team first created a number of ant rafts by swirling 110 insects in a beaker full of water. After the rafts formed, the researchers froze them with liquid nitrogen and used super glue to ensure the ants stayed in place.
CT scans allowed the researchers to examine how the rafts’ individual components were related.
Ed Yong elaborates on the findings for National Geographic:
They don’t just stick their pads to the nearest thing they can find; they typically attach to their neighbours legs and feet, rather than their bodies.
These connections allow the ants to change the shape of their structures by bending or stretching their legs. That explains why the structures are so elastic, and why they can absorb incoming forces more effectively.
The foot-to-foot connections also suggest that the ants actively control the nature of their balls. The team found other such clues. For example, a ball of living ants is less densely packed than a ball of dead ones, implying that they are actively pushing their neighbours away.
This presumably helps to create the air pockets that keep the rafts afloat.
While constructing the rafts does not involve intelligence, the team told Yong, the nature of those balls does turn out to be much more complex than scientists expected.
Seventy years passed before Leichhardt’s grasshopper was officially ‘rediscovered’ in 1971 by Principal Research Scientist of CSIRO’s Division of Wildlife Research, J. H. Calaby. Calaby had returned to South Alligator River, now protected within Kakadu National Park, to spot a single male nymph on a sandstone pediment.
While Calaby’s find meant that the species was not extinct after all, it remains particularly rare and little studied, with just a few fragile populations sustained by three native species of flowering shrub within the Kakadu and Keep River National Parks.
Bright colouring in insects usually signifies some level of toxicity, as does this species’ tendency to spew a brownish liquid when agitated, but chemical analysis has turned up little evidence that these grasshoppers are harbouring any toxic compounds.
And weirdly enough, the species has no known vertebrate predators, which suggests that rather than being toxic, the brownish spew’s purpose is simply to taste awful. Classic spew.
In 1996, chemists William Kitching and Mary Fletcher from the University of Queensland analysed the species’ host plants to find certain compounds that are associated with bitter-tasting glycoside sugar groups, so they suggested that by feeding on these plants exclusively, the species cements its reputation as a terrible meal.