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killing it
Like a mindless zombie controlled by a menacing overlord, the spider scampers back and forth,
reinforcing its silky web. Not long from now, the subservient arachnid will be dead, its web
transformed into a shelter for the spawn of the creature that once controlled it, according to a new
study.
No, this isn't science fiction; it's the somewhat terrifying (but very real) tale of the orb-weaving
spider Cyclosa argenteoalba and the parasitic wasp Reclinervellus nielseni, two species that carry
out a strange relationship in Hyogo prefecture, Japan.
Together, the wasp and the spider provide a perfect example of host manipulation -- an ecological
process in which one species (the parasite) and its young (the parasitoids) manipulate the behaviors
of another species (the host) to their advantage. [Zombie Animals: 5 Real-Life Cases of BodySnatching]
Just how a parasite turns its host into a zombielike slave varies from species to species, and
sometimes, researchers aren't sure what the mechanism is that makes a host do its parasite's
bidding. That's the case for the orb-weaving spider and parasitic wasp of Japan. Researchers in that
country want to find out how R. nielseni controls C. argenteoalba. Does it use a neurotoxin, or
perhaps some kind of hormone?
But to solve that mystery, scientists first need to answer another question: What, exactly, does the
wasp make the spider do?
Walking dead
The manipulative relationship between the wasp and the spider begins when a female wasp attacks
the orb weaver in its web. She deposits her egg onto the back of the spider's abdomen but doesn't
kill it. Firmly attached to the spider, the egg develops into a larva, which eventually does kill its host,
but not before the spider serves it as a slave throughout the early stages of development, said Keizo
Takasuka, a postdoctoral fellow at Kobe University's Graduate School of Agricultural Science in
Japan and lead author of a new study exploring the relationship between R. nielseni and the orb
weaver. [Watch the Zombie Slave Spider Do the Wasp's Bidding (Video)]
Over the past several years, Takasuka has headed to the Shinto shrines of Hyogo prefecture to
collect spiders enslaved by the parasitic larvae of R. nielseni.
The resting web, a safe haven during times of transformation, is the perfect place for a wasp larva to
transition into the pupal phase (the stage of transformation in which the insect envelopes itself in a
cocoon). An orb weaver's resting web can keep its occupant safe for about two days, which is how
long it typically takes the spider to molt. But a web that lasts only two days isn't going to cut it for R.
nielseni, which needs to remain ensconced in the spider's web for at least 10 days once it has
wrapped itself up in a cocoon.
"[The] cocoon web has to endure falling debris, the elements and animal strikes for a long time -- at
least four to five times longer than [a] resting web," Takasuka said.
That's why R. nielseni doesn't just direct its host to build a resting web; it instructs the spider to
build a superstrong resting web, one chock-full of reinforced threads that hold the web -- and the
wasp-filled cocoon at its center -- in place for long stretches of time, the researchers found.
Using a tensile machine, Takasuka and his colleagues tested the breaking forces (how much force a
material can handle before breaking) of the radius and frame silks used to construct a so-called
"cocoon" web and found that they were at least 2.7 times greater than the breaking forces of the
silks that made up both the orb and the resting webs of C. argenteoalba.
Horrifying hormones
When a zombie spider is finished doing its parasitoid's bidding, it returns to the center of the web,
but its ordeal is far from over. With its UV light-reflecting, reinforced shelter in place, the wasp larva
no longer needs the spider, so it slaughters it. After chucking the spider's corpse off the web, the
larva spins itself a comfy cocoon and hunkers down for nearly two weeks to complete its
metamorphosis.
The parasitic wasp's ability to manipulate its host in such a specific and subtle way is not unique. In
Costa Rica, another parasitic wasp, Hymenoepimecis argyraphaga, ups the horror by depositing its
eggs inside of its host arachnid (Plesiometa argyra), which builds a cocoon-worthy web before being
consumed from the inside out by larvae.
And, in Brazil (as well as other countries), there are fungi that infect many species of ants, turning
these insects into a host of zombies. The ants climb to the highest point they can find and then die as
fungal stalks shoot through their skulls, dispersing the fungus' spores into the wind.
In the case of the fungi-entranced ants, scientists know that the fungi actually release a cocktail of
chemicals into the ants' brains, inducing them to do the fungi's bidding. But entomologists are still
actively studying the ways that wasps and other insect parasites might control their hosts.
Takasuka suspects that, in the case of R. nielseni and C. argenteoalba, the mechanism controlling
the spider's web-strengthening preferences is somehow related to the hormone that is naturally
released in the spider just before molting. This hormone is what motivates the spider to start
building a resting nest. In the near future, Takasuka hopes to study the chemicals present in the
larvae to determine how those chemicals might be related to the resting-web hormone and others.
The researchers' study was published Aug. 5 in The Journal of Experimental Biology.
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