Latest news with #MindyWeisberger
Gizmodo
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Gizmodo
Meet the Real Zombies That Exist Everywhere Around Us
Zombies are real and everywhere we look. Not human zombies, of course, but animal ones: insects, arachnids, and countless other species. In her new book, Rise of the Zombie Bugs: The Surprising Science of Parasitic Mind-Control, author and science writer Mindy Weisberger delves into the world of zombifying parasites, aka the various lifeforms that have evolved to nudge or outright force their hosts into doing their bidding. The average person probably knows about a few of these parasites, such as the fungi that take over an ant's body so it can climb up blades of grass and release a new generation of infectious spores—an act so horrifically spell-binding that a fictional version of it sparked the human apocalypse seen in the popular game and HBO TV show The Last of Us. But Weisberger details a whole litany of zombie-making bugs (microscopic germs, insects, and other creepy crawlies) for readers to be grossed out by, including a few that might even be able to influence human behavior. 'Parasitism has been around for about as long as there has been life on earth.' Gizmodo spoke to Weisberger about her fascination with these bugs, the evolution of parasitism in general, and disco-lighted snails. Ed Cara, Gizmodo: We here at Gizmodo are no strangers to covering all sorts of zombie bugs. But what drew you specifically to spend so much time digging into these parasites and their gruesome way of life? Mindy Weisberger: For starters, they're inherently fascinating. And like a lot of people, my first introduction to these zombifying agents was the cordyceps fungus in The Last of Us, which of course is inspired by an actual zombie ant fungus in the genus Ophiocordyceps. So this is something that people maybe are a little more aware of now. But over time, as a science reporter, I came across more examples of different types of zombifying organisms, and I just started to get a sense of the scope of how many different kinds there were and all of these different mechanisms they had for zombification. So, of course, there are zombifying fungi, but there are also zombifying viruses. There are zombifying insects. There are many, many species of wasps that have evolved to manipulate their hosts. There are zombifying worms. So, it seemed like the deeper I went, the more that I uncovered and the more I just wanted to learn about all of these different types of zombifiers. And that just led me down the rabbit hole. And, of course, I wrote a whole book about them, but there are still so many examples that just didn't even make it into the book. So, these parasites are a very, very rich source of study, and they tell us a lot about the natural world and how different relationships work and the different kinds of strategies that have evolved for different forms of life to survive. Gizmodo: Throughout the book, you talk about how abundant and ancient these parasites really are. That raises the question of why. Why have so many organisms evolved to have this sort of freeloading lifestyle, despite the very real risks of being wholly dependent on another living thing? Weisberger: So, just the fact that you use freeloading is very telling. People in general have a negative view towards parasites because many parasites cause disease. And I also think, from a capitalistic perspective, the idea of being a freeloader is like, 'Oh my God, there's nothing worse than that.' But in fact, this is obviously a very successful strategy, and parasitism has been around for about as long as there has been life on Earth. One of the researchers that I spoke to for the book was Kelly Weinersmith, who studies parasitic wasps. And she said that parasitologists like to joke amongst themselves that the first form of life that emerged on earth was free-living, and the second was parasitic. Because it is actually a very attractive strategy. I mean, if you had to worry about going out and looking for food, finding a safe place for you to reproduce and raise your young, and potentially exposing yourself to all different kinds of threats and predators, would it not be profitable to find yourself a place where everything you need is there, all the nutrients are there, the place where you can reproduce is there? Once you've established yourself in a way that you can evade the host's immune system and just do your thing, that is actually a safer, better option for you. And this is why parasitism has evolved so many times across not just the animal kingdom, but plants and fungi as well. By some estimates, there are roughly about 8 million known animal species, and at least 40% of those are estimated to be parasitic. And this is something that goes back hundreds of millions of years. The earliest direct fossil evidence of parasitism is found in the shells of marine organisms called brachiopods, from a site in China dating to about 512 million years ago. These parasites were probably worms that built these little mineralized cylinders for themselves on the shells of these brachiopods. And they were thought to be kleptoparasites, which means that they stole their host's food. And the way that scientists figured that out was when they looked at the brachiopod fossils, the ones that were carrying a greater load of these parasites were smaller, which seemed to suggest that they were not getting enough to eat. So parasitism goes back a very long time. But of all the known parasite-host associations on the planet, only a tiny fraction to date are known to involve behavioral manipulation. Gizmodo: You detail so many different examples of zombie parasitism that the average person might wonder; is this something I should ever be worried about? Are there any bugs out there that can or possibly could zombify people someday? Weisberger: Well, it's natural to be concerned about how this might affect you personally. And the fact is that there are some pathogens that are known to affect mammal behavior, and you probably know them already. Rabies, of course, is a very common one. Cases of rabies are recorded in texts that go back thousands of years, and it's known to affect its host's behavior very dramatically. This usually involves behavioral changes that make them more aggressive, and there's also excessive salivation involved. The thinking is that this benefits the parasite, because aggressive animals are more likely to fight. And the virus particles are shed in their saliva. So the combination of changing aggressive behavior and a lot of drool means that the rabies virus is able to increase its chances of successful reproduction. Another example you might know about is Toxoplasma gondii, which causes the disease toxoplasmosis. T. gondii's definitive hosts are cats, which means that it only can reproduce in cats. But it can live in lots of different species of birds and mammals, and that includes people. And so there's robust evidence that T. gondii changes the behavior in infected rodents. What it does in rats and mice is it reduces their fear of cats. It makes them attracted to cat urine, which is something that's normally, for good reason, a deterrent for them. It makes them bolder around cats, which means they're more likely to be eaten by cats, which means the T. gondii they are carrying will then get inside a cat where it needs to be to reproduce. But there's also evidence starting to come out in papers within the last decade or so showing that there seem to be similar types of behavioral changes in animals that are not rodents. In hyena cubs, for example, that are infected with T. gondii, they seem to be bolder around lions. And there are studies of captive chimps infected with T. gondii that seem to lose their fear of leopards, which are a natural prey of theirs. Now with humans, they're dead-end hosts. More than 2 billion people worldwide are thought to carry this pathogen, even if they don't show any symptoms or have any signs of toxoplasmosis. And there's also a growing body of evidence hinting that T. gondii can change human behavior, even if the person doesn't show any other symptoms, and in similar kinds of ways where the person with T. gondii will be bolder or more aggressive. But figuring out what actually makes a specific behavioral change is very complicated. And it's even more complicated in people compared to figuring out what changes behavior in an ant, for example. So there is still, at this point, a lot of work to be done to be certain that you can separate out these specific changes and link them to T. gondii, rather than there being other factors involved. But it's definitely an interesting area of study. Gizmodo: Speaking of unresolved questions, what are some of the biggest mysteries left to be solved about these zombifying parasites? Weisberger: Well, if you look at the history of how scientists have studied behavior manipulation and zombification, some of the first records of these are centuries old. And usually it just starts out with the scientist observing that an insect is either behaving in an unexpected way or that it seems to be sprouting things that are not normal. But it's only really been in the last 20 years or so that scientists have been able to drill down and look at the neurochemistry of what's going on. We're finally at that point we can start to figure out questions like: What are the proteins that are being changed? What are the genes that are being expressed? What is the parasite actually doing to its host? And one of the big questions is; is the parasite itself producing the compounds that are causing the change, or is it producing compounds that then get the insect to produce chemicals that affect its behavior? For example, there is a type of wasp that zombifies spiders. And what it does is it lays an egg on the spider, the egg hatches, and the wasp larvae essentially just piggybacks on the spider. It just sits there discretely sipping the spider's hemolymph [the invertebrate version of blood], almost like a juice box, until it's ready to pupate. And when that happens, there is a very dramatic behavioral change in the spider. The spider starts to build a web that is completely different from the normal web it makes. You can probably picture the Charlotte's web type of web, which is a series of concentric circles with spokes. And that's a typical prey catching web. But the zombified spider builds a web that's usually used to keep it safe and secure as it molts. Once the spider is done with this web, its job is done. The wasp larvae drains it dry, the spider corpse drops to the ground, the wasp builds itself a little cocoon and then it hangs out in the wasp web—the last web that the spider ever built. So what the wasp is doing is it's stimulating in the spiders a massive amount of hormones called ecdysteroids. And the big unanswered question right now is, is the wasp producing this itself or is it stimulating it in the spider? Because spiders naturally produce these hormones just before they molt; it's actually the trigger that starts the whole process of them building this web in preparation for them having this big physical change. So in this and in many, many other examples of zombification, there is still so much to be unpacked about what the specific pathways are between the parasite and its host, about the small nudges that it's doing to cause these dramatic changes in behavior. Gizmodo: So to close things out, what's your favorite zombie bug that you learned about in writing this book? Weisberger: I was originally a filmmaker before I was a science journalist, so I'm naturally attracted to things that are very visual. And one of the most dramatic examples that caught my attention are the discofied zombie snails. So these are land snails that are infected by worms in the genus Leucochloridium. What these worms do is they infect the snails using these broodsacs, which is like these little sausages full of worm larvae. And these broodsacs are very colorful, they're usually striped, patterned in shades of brown and green depending on the species. The sacs migrate into the snails' eye stalks, and once there, they pulse, making the stalks look very much like the undulation of a crawling caterpillar. Now, the definitive hosts of these worms are birds; they have to be in a bird to reproduce. So this display, which looks like a caterpillar, is something that is uniquely attractive to hungry birds. The worm also manipulates the snail's behavior so that it will wander out into exposed spaces, rather than hunkering down in the undergrowth where it normally stays. So they're now out in the open and they have these caterpillar-looking eye stalks, making the broodsacs an enticing meal. But the eyestalks split very easily, so the broodsacs will often just pop right out, and the snail will often heal its eyestalks and be fine afterward. That's my favorite species example, but I also have a favorite specific individual zombie bug. There was a zombie ladybug that became TikTok famous in 2021, which became known as Lady Berry. There's this content creator named Tiana Gayton, who's very enamored of insects and spiders. And one day, she was in a grocery store when she looked at a head of lettuce and saw a ladybug that looked like it was hugging something. It looked like it was hugging a small cocoon. And she was like, 'Oh, this is weird. I'm going to take this ladybug home with me and see what's happening.' She took it home and she tried to pry the ladybug's legs away from the silk around the cocoon, but the ladybug refused to let go. It turned out that the ladybug was parasitized by a species of wasp that manipulates its behavior. It will lay an egg inside the host's abdomen, the egg hatches out of the ladybug and forms into a pupa, and the host then becomes the pupa's bodyguard. So the ladybug was guarding the cocoon. But Tiana Gayton was determined to save it. She pried it off the cocoon, separated it from the cocoon, and put the ladybug in a little jar. She gave it water, gave it food, and nursed it back to health. And eventually she took Lady Berry to the park and returned it to the wild. And so there's an example of a zombie that got something most zombies don't: a second chance. Rise of the Zombie Bugs: The Surprising Science of Parasitic Mind-Control, published by Johns Hopkins University Press, is now available in hardcover and as a e-book.
Yahoo
03-05-2025
- Science
- Yahoo
Bone collector caterpillar: The very hungry caterpillar of your nightmares
When you buy through links on our articles, Future and its syndication partners may earn a commission. Name: Bone collector caterpillar Where it lives: In cobwebs on a single mountain range on Oahu, Hawaii What it eats: Flies, weevils, bark beetles, ants or any arthropod caught in a spider's web Why it's awesome: The bone collector is not just a very hungry caterpillar — it has an appetite for flesh. And once it finishes scavenging on dead or dying insects trapped in a spider's web, the bone collector covers itself in the legs, wings or heads of its prey for camouflage to avoid being eaten. The newly discovered caterpillar inhabits a roughly 6-square-mile (15 square kilometers) area in the Wai'anae mountain range on Oahu and lives exclusively in and around cobwebs in logs, tree hollows or rock cavities. The bone collector uses the dark setting to its advantage: If the spider host detects movement on its web, it will rush over to attack the intruder. But under the cover of darkness, the silk casing layered in inedible body parts smells, or tastes, like last week's lunch. The tactic works well, as the caterpillars have never been found to be eaten by spiders or wrapped in their silk, according to a study in the journal Science. The bone collector is part of the genus Hyposmocoma, small moths that live in Hawaii and are known for weaving mobile silk containers. Whereas other varieties might decorate their shelters with bits of algae or lichen to look like tree bark, for example, no other known Hyposmocoma species recognizes random insect body parts and attaches them to its case. The species evolved at least 6 million years ago, according to the researchers, making it older than the island of Oahu. This suggests bone collector moths migrated from an even older Hawaiian island that has since disappeared to get to their current forest. Image 1 of 2 A bone collector caterpillar next to a non-native spider and its egg sac. Image 2 of 2 An adult female bone collector moth. Carnivorous caterpillars are extremely unusual. They make up about 0.13% of the world's moth and butterfly species, but the bone collector, in particular, is especially rare — after more than two decades of fieldwork, researchers have found only 62 specimens. In terms of survival, the bone collectors aren't helping their cause. They are territorial, and typically only one caterpillar is found on a single cobweb because they cannibalize the competition. Related stories —American burying beetle: The meat-eating insect that buries bodies for its babies to feast on —Gum leaf skeletonizer: The venomous 'Mad Hatterpillar' that wears its old heads like a crown —'A relationship that could horrify Darwin': Mindy Weisberger on the skin-crawling reality of insect zombification Fortunately for us, the bone collector caterpillar is only about a quarter of an inch (5 millimeters) long. " I have no doubt that if we were their size, they would eat us," Daniel Rubinoff, lead author of the study and an entomologist at the University of Hawaii at Manoa, told Live Science. "There's no way that they would just eat insects. That just happens to be their fighting class, so to speak."
Yahoo
15-04-2025
- Science
- Yahoo
'Once the ant turned its back on the colony and walked away, it was on a death march. And the parasite was in the driver's seat'
When you buy through links on our articles, Future and its syndication partners may earn a commission. Zombies are among us. And these tiny undead creatures are everywhere. In this excerpt from "Rise of the Zombie Bugs" (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2025), author Mindy Weisberger examines the very grizzly end for worker ants that get zombiefied by the decapitating fly Pseudacteon wasmanni. Scientists first described the gruesome habits of ant decapitators in the phorid genus Pseudacteon more than 90 years ago, from observations among ant populations in Europe, South America, and the United States. A female fly begins by staking out a worker ant — carefully keeping her distance at first, as she is no bigger than her target's head. To scientists observing phorids in the field, "they appear as minute, fuzzy specks as they hover over host ants," Lloyd Morrison, an ecologist for the National Park Service, wrote in a guide to insect parasitoids in North America. Females don't have a lot of time to be choosy about their hosts, as adult flies live only for about a week or less in the wild. When the female fly sees an opening, she darts in and lays an egg inside the ant's thorax — one and done — in less than a second (analysis of the female reproductive system in the phorid fly Pseudacteon wasmanni revealed that eggs are torpedo-shaped and measure 130 micrometers long, or about 0.005 inches). A single Pseudacteon female can produce from 200 to nearly 300 eggs, and in a single hour she may make more than 100 parasitizing attempts (though she only lays one egg per host). Newly parasitized workers "frequently appear stunned after an oviposition strike," U.S. Department of Agriculture entomologist Sanford Porter wrote in Florida Entomologist, and the ants "often stilt upon their legs for a few seconds to a minute before running away." These egg-laying attempts don't all succeed; indeed most of them flop. In laboratory experiments, when Pseudacteon females tried to implant an egg in an unwilling ant, they failed at least 65% of the time. But when an egg does manage to end up inside an ant, its host enters the realm of the walking dead. Once the egg hatches, the ant has only a few weeks of life before it succumbs to the manipulations of its attacker, stumbling away from its home and family and then undergoing decapitation from the inside out. Within days after hatching, the phorid larva migrates from the thorax into the ant's head; little is known about how the parasitoid avoids being destroyed by the ant's immune system, but one possibility is that moving quickly into the host's head may help the larva evade an immune response. For the duration of the larva's second instar — about two to three weeks — it makes itself comfortable in the ant's head cavity, sipping on hemolymph. This liquid nutrition is all the larva needs until it reaches its third instar. For an infected ant during those initial honeymoon weeks, despite carrying and nourishing a growing parasite inside its head, life is pretty much business as usual; the ant looks and behaves normally, according to scientists with the Louisiana State University (LSU) College of Agriculture. Through "intensive observation" of ant parasitism by the phorid fly Pseudacteon tricuspis, LSU researchers found that a parasitized ant stayed with its nest mates until about 8 to 10 hours before the larva in its head was ready to pupate. It would then depart the nest on what appeared to be a normal foraging expedition, alongside its non-parasitized sisters. But for the zombified ant, this final excursion was a one-way trip. Once the ant turned its back on the colony and walked away, it was on a death march. And the parasite was in the driver's seat. "Parasitized ants were highly mobile after they left the nest and ultimately entered the thatch layer at the soil surface," the scientists reported. "The term 'zombie' fire ant workers was coined to characterize the behavior while under parasitoid control." Finally, the phorid larva is ready for its metamorphosis. It releases an enzyme that degrades membranes in the wandering ant's exoskeleton, causing the ant to stop walking and eventually collapse. The ant's head loosens from the body, as does the first pair of legs; other legs may be affected, too. Its mandibles weaken, rendering it unable to bite or burrow. As for the larva, it indulges a new appetite for solid food; namely, ant head tissue. You can probably guess where this is headed; the ant's hollowed-out, larvae-stuffed head falls off (the ant, unsurprisingly, is already dead by now, even though its legs are often still twitching as its head rolls away). The parasitoid, however, is just fine. It finishes off the last of the tasty bits inside the decapitated ant head and pushes the mandibles out of the way — the ant's no longer using them, after all — and then the larva wriggles into position so that its first three pupal segments are stuffed into the gap where the ant's mouthparts used to be. These segments harden and darken, becoming a tough, protective plate that's roughly the same color as the ant's exoskeleton, and two hairlike breathing "horns" extend from the pupa out on either side of the ant's mouth opening. Other parasitoid insects keep their zombie host alive until the larva's metamorphosis is over, but phorids pupate unguarded inside their dead hosts' disembodied heads. However, the exoskeleton of an ant's head is extremely hard — tougher than other parts of its body — and therefore lends extra protection to the pupating larva, Brown says. Two to six weeks later, depending on air temperature and species size, the adult phorid fly is ready to pop out from inside the detached ant head, like the goddess Athena of legend springing fully grown from the head of her father, Zeus. Only, this newborn is a lot smaller than an ancient Greek deity and has more legs than most. A few hours after emerging, the adult phorid fly is ready to mate — and continue its head-splitting reproductive cycle. Excerpted from Rise of the Zombie Bugs: The Surprising Science of Parasitic Mind-Control by Mindy Weisberger. Copyright 2025. Published with permission of Johns Hopkins University Press Rise of the Zombie Bugs: The Surprising Science of Parasitic Mind-Control Kindle Edition — $28.45 on Amazon Zombies aren't just the stuff of nightmares. Explore the fascinating world of real-life insect Deal
