Gordionus chinensis

Hairworms are known for their ability to make their host go for an impromptu (and terminal) swim in a stream or a pond, but by doing that they are not just sending ripples through the water, but also into the surrounding ecosystem. The paper we are looking at today features a species of hairworm from Japan call Gordionus chinensis - this parasite infects three different species of forest-dwelling camel crickets from the genus Diestrammena.

Photo by Danue Sachiko from here

The scientists who conducted the study that this paper is based on wanted to find out what happens to the the cricket population and their hairworm parasites after their home forest has been cut down. They conducted an observational field study at an experimental forest in the upper parts of the Totsu River at Nara Prefecture, Japan. The forest was originally clear-cut in 1912 and 1916 and since then, parts of it have been replanted and cut down at different point in time over the last century. Each study site corresponds with a different replanted forests of Japanese cypress ranging from 3 to 48 years old.

These scientists found that the camel crickets began returning a few years after a forest has been replanted, their abundance steadily increasing and eventually reaching a peak after the forest has been standing for at least 30 years. But their hairworm parasites did not return with similar gusto. In fact, they estimated that only second-growth forests that are more than 50 years old have hairworm populations that are as abundance as those found at undisturbed sites.

One possible reason for the hairworms' slow recovery is their complex life cycle which requires infection of more than one host. The replanted forest might be lacking some of the other host G. chinensis needs to complete its life cycle. Because parasites has such a negative public image, a forest which is free of parasites (or at least a specific parasite) might sound good to most people. But these hairworms actually play a very vital role in the ecosystem.

By causing their cricket host to jump into a stream, they actually serve as a kind of fast food delivery service for the fish living in those streams. A cricket infected with a hair worm is 20 times more likely to stumble into a stream and become fish food than an uninfected cricket - so fish which would not usually get to feed on such large land-loving insects on a regular basis can now do so thanks to the hairworm, and it has calculated that this straight-to-your-stream food delivery service accounts for 60% of the trout population's energy intake in some watersheds.

For hairworms, new forests just do not have the same creature comforts of old forests. And if you are a keen angler or simply appreciate a fish-rich stream - you have a parasite to thank for all the fishes.

Reference:
Sato, T., Watanabe, K., Fukushima, K., & Tokuchi, N. (2014). Parasites and forest chronosequence: Long-term recovery of nematomorph parasites after clear-cut logging. Forest Ecology and Management, 314: 166-171.

Daubaylia potomaca

Photo is of a related species,
Daubaylia malayanum from here. 

For a parasite, the host provides provides food, shelter, and a site for reproduction - in short, a complete habitat. While for some parasites, host death is a necessary condition for the parasite to complete its life-cycle, for others, the death of a host amounts to the end of the world (or a sinking ship at the very least).

Meet Daubaylia potomaca, a roundworm which infects the freshwater snail Helisoma anceps. Unlike other roundworms that use snails as vehicles to reach the next host in their life-cycle, the snail is the only hosts for D. potomaca. But seeing as snails do not live forever, any parasite it harbours would need an exit strategy or risk perishing with their host when the end finally comes. For a parasite like D. potomaca which completes its entire life-cycle in the snail, it would be useful for it to recognise when they should abandon their host.

A dying host is not the only reason to leave - finding a new host is integral to most parasites' life-cycle, but you would not want to leave too early either - the outside world is a hostile place and as a parasite, you would want to get as much out of the host as possible before you make a run for it. Unlike most other parasites that usually infect a new host as larval stages, D. potomaca actually leave their hosts as fully-matured females laden with eggs, all tangled in mucus-coated bundles composed of 10-50 worms. Therefore the female worms would not want to depart too early as it needs to gather as much resources as possible from its host to nurture the developing eggs. So ideally, they leave it to the last possible moment before they emerge from the snail.

So how well does D. potomaca time its escape? In the paper we are featuring today, a team of researchers studying this host-parasite system observed some worms leaving as early as 52 days before their host snail died, but the majority (almost a quarter) of the worms came out in the last five days of the snail's life. The percentage of worms that emerged increased as the snail's life draws closer to its end - it seems almost as if the parasite can sense when the host is near death's door and took that as a cue for when to bail.

As an additional factor, the researchers also found that infection intensity of D. potomaca affected the snail's lifespan - the more heavily infected it is, the sooner the snail dies. So perhaps D. potomaca can also gauge how crowded the inside of the host is, and schedule their departure accordingly. This is some what reminiscent of a parasite previously featured on this blog; Coitocaecum parvum.

Unlike D. potomaca, C. parvum is a fluke with a complex life-cycle and infects multiple hosts through out its life. However, it does face the potential problem of its amphipod host dying before it is eaten by the parasite's next host, in this case a freshwater fish where it can mate with other flukes and produce eggs. But if become increasingly unlikely that its amphipod host would be eaten by a fish before it expires, C. parvum would alters its usual life history schedule to start producing eggs in the amphipod instead of waiting until it end up in the gut of a fish (which might not happen).

While it is a different kind of response to imminent host death compared with D. potomaca, it is another example of how parasites can assess the status of its host and the surrounding environment, and adjust their own life schedule accordingly. Throughout the course of co-evolving with their hosts, in addition to adapting to their host's defences, parasites have also developed many strategies to ensure their survival even as their environment (i.e. the host) faces imminent collapse.

Reference:
Zimmermann, M. R., Luth, K. E., & Esch, G. W. (2013). Shedding Patterns of Daubaylia potomaca (Nematoda: Rhabditida). Journal of Parasitology 99: 966-969.

Phronima sp.

Today's guest post is by Katie O'Dwyer, a PhD student currently at University of Otago in the Evolutionary and Ecological Parasitology research group. In one of my conference reports last year, I mentioned some of the research that she is currently conducting on parasitic flukes that live in periwinkles. She has provided us with a post about a parasite that she came across while walking along a beach in New Zealand.

Phronima and its salp barrel.
Photo by Katie O'Dwyer, used here with permission

After recently finding some salps containing the amphipod Phronima, washed up on a beach in New Zealand, I decided this was a worthy group to compose a blog about. It helped too that I was already interested in this group of crustaceans, having assisted with some work on them in Ireland. Read on for some interesting information on this little studied group of parasitic organisms…

Imagine a parasite which can create its own mobile nursery for its young, a parasite which is thought to be the inspiration behind the chestbusting xenomorph in the popular movie Alien. Well imagine no more! Introducing Phronima, the pram bug. These amphipods are members of the Phronimidae, a group of ten species of hyperiid amphipod, which occur in the water column throughout the open ocean. This sets them apart from their close relatives, which typically inhabit the benthic environment of the seafloor. So what has allowed this particular family to adapt to the pelagic or open water environment?

Those adorable little babies!
Photo by Katie O'Dwyer, used here with permission

Enter salps. What is a salp? Salps are gelatinous zooplankton which drift throughout our oceans. They may occur singly or in huge chains composed of individual salps linked together. Phronima is equipped with impressive front claws and with these they attach to an individual salp and carve away its insides until it forms a barrel. Phronima then climbs inside and sails the sea from inside a gelatinous barrel, collecting food from the water column. A number of questions may now come to mind regarding this symbiosis; has Phronima killed its host, which suggests that it is a parasitoid rather than a parasite, and why does it carry this barrel around as it must be pretty energetically expensive, right?

Well, as mentioned, these organisms live in the open ocean which presents several challenges to collecting samples for answering these questions. However, some dedicated researchers have indeed managed to study these fascinating creatures on the rare occasion that such an opportunity arises. From their research they have found that the salp in fact still contains live cells, although it hardly resembles a salp anymore with just a barrel of tissue remaining. The presence of live cells means that the barrel maintains its structure and that is important for Phronima to have a sturdy home. As the barrel barely resembles a live salp any longer, Phronima should really be considered as parasitoids rather than parasites.

Do a barrel roll!
Photo by Katie O'Dwyer, used here with permission

As for the energy involved in carrying around this barrel, the barrel provides a larger structure than the amphipod itself and this enables the Phronima to be more buoyant in the water column. However, some energy is still required to carry around this jelly barrel. Overall energy usage by Phronima is higher than that of benthic amphipods but on the lower spectrum compared with other pelagic or open water amphipods. This suggests that Phronima have indeed adapted to a unique niche which enables them to travel in the water column with their young and access new food resources without this behaviour being too energetically costly.

One unusual finding in the research thus far is that male Phronima are also found in barrels. If Phronima is known as the pram bug, which suggests the barrel is important for carrying offspring, then why should males carry a barrel too? Could they use it as part of some mating strategy, where they pass the barrel on to the female they mate with? Due to the difficulties associated with studying organisms that dwell in the open ocean many questions remain unanswered and this leaves us ever more curious and fascinated by creatures such as Phronima.

References:

Hirose, E., Aoki, M. N., & Nishikawa, J. (2005). Still alive? Fine structure of the barrels made by Phronima (Crustacea: Amphipoda). Journal of the Marine Biological Association of the United Kingdom 85: 1435-1439.

Bishop, R. E., & Geiger, S. P. (2006). Phronima energetics: is there a bonus to the barrel? Crustaceana 79: 1059-1070.

This post was written by Katie O'Dwyer.

Choniomyzon inflatus

Photo of C. inflatus from the paper

I guess you could say that the parasite we are featuring today is a "balloon animal" and indeed its name refers to that property. According to the paper that described and named this copepod - Choniomyzon inflatus - "The specific name of the new species is a reference to its swollen prosome, which resembles a balloon."

But you won't be finding this odd little crustacean at any kid's party, instead it is usually attached to the egg masses of smooth fan lobsters (Ibacus novemdentatus) on the coast of western Japan. It is the third species from the genus Choniomyzon to have ever been described. The other two known species are C. panuliri, which are found on spiny lobsters from India, the British Solomon Islands and the Great Barrier Reef, and C. libiniae, which live on spider crabs from São Sebastião Island, Brazil. All three species attach themselves to the external eggs masses of their respective hosts.

SEM photo of C.inflatus
from the paper

So why do they look like a miniature hopper ball toy? Well, that relates to where they live and what they feed on. Chioniomyzon inflatus belongs to a family of copepods called the Nicothoidae and the reason they do this Humpty Dumpty impersonation is so that they can insinuate themselves amidst the eggs masses of larger crustaceans.

Normally the host crustaceans would remove any foreign particles or organisms that get caught up in their brood pouch or egg mass, but by disguising themselves as an egg, C. inflatus and their relatives can stay there undisturbed. And while the appearance seems comical to us, it is seriously bad news for its host because nicothoid copepods are egg-eaters - they have a syringe-like mouthpart with which they puncture their host's eggs and suck out their contents.

So C. inflatus masquerades as just another egg in the brood to avoid being expelled meanwhile munching on the actual eggs around it. This strategy is rather reminiscent of another creature that we featured during the first year of the Parasite of the Day blog - the cuckoo catfish which hides its eggs amongst that of mouth-brooding cichlids. You can read more about the cuckoo catfish here.

Reference:
Wakabayashi, K., Otake, S., Tanaka, Y., & Nagasawa, K. (2013). Choniomyzon inflatus n. sp.(Crustacea: Copepoda: Nicothoidae) associated with Ibacus novemdentatus (Crustacea: Decapoda: Scyllaridae) from Japanese waters. Systematic parasitology 84: 157-165.

Another year of parasites in insects, in shellfish and in extreme environments

It is hard to believe that it's already been another year again, and it was a particularly exciting year too, with a lot happening with and around this blog. In terms of the parasites we featured on here, there were some which can be considered to be pretty extreme; like the only external parasite found on guppies that live in noxious tar pits, and some tapeworms with an special affinity for heavy metal. There are those that might make your squirm; like the sexually-transmitted roundworm in anole lizards, and a crustacean that lives in a fish's bladder.

We gave seafood fans some food for thought with some parasites that plague catfish and flounder, and checked in on bunch of clam parasites (tapeworms and flukes) and mussel parasites too (Himasthla elongata). And while fish and shellfish might provide some fodder for parasites, on land, insects provide plenty more opportunities for parasitism, after all, insects are the most diverse group of animals on Earth and they make abundant hosts; from crickets to hornets to ants, and amongst these parasite of insects (some of which are insects themselves) there are some rather sinister ones - like the parasitoid wasp that takes its host to the edge of death so it can be a more compliant host, or the mosquito-killing round worms which sit like mines to be activated upon detecting the presence of its mosquito larva host.

Of course, this year we also had some guest bloggers in the form of students from the University of New England ZOOL329/529 class of 2013 who wrote about how toxic birds makes for sad lice, self-medicating in bees, avian malaria parasites that make their host more attractive to mosquitoes, and how an intertidal fluke might respond to a rise in global temperature. Also, as with last year, we brought you some conference coverage too (part 1, part 2).

We will be back next year with plenty more posts about the newest research in fields relating to parasitology which you might not have heard or read about elsewhere, and as usual, I have already lined up a few which I am going to be writing about... See you all next year!

P.S. If you can't wait until next year, you can find some of my other parasite-related writing on The Conversation about freeze-tolerant parasites, a worm that usurp hornet queens, and fungi that plague the zombie ant fungus. And alongside writing this blog, I've doing a regular radio segment call "Creepy but Curious" where I sometimes talk about parasitic (among other things), like the zombie ants, the infamous crab-castrating Sacculina, the tongue-biter parasite, and the virus that melts caterpillars.

Lethacotyle vera

Images from the paper 

While "many sucker-cups at the rear" sounds like the description for a Lovecraftian monstrosity, that is the name of a group of monogenean parasites called the Polyopisthocotylea. Let's just refer to them as "Poly-Opees" from this point to avoid that tongue-twister. They are ectoparasitic flatworms usually found on the gills of marine fish. Seeing as fish use their gills to extract oxygen from their aquatic environment, there is a constant flow of water washing over these parasites, which means these flatworms are essentially living in a high-flow environment. To secure themselves to the gill filaments, they have a sucker structure on their rear - this sucker anchors the worm in place, allowing it to flex the rest of its body and browse on gill tissue and blood.

The rear suckers of monogeneans are not just a simple suction cup, but are composed of an array of intricate anchors, hooks, and clamps that vary considerably between different groups. In the case of the Poly-Opees, this sucker is armed with a series of clamps that gives that entire group its name. But today we are featuring a species that completely bucks that trend. Like most other Poly-Opees, it is also found on the gills of fish, but stands out due to the complete lack of clamps on its rear sucker.

Lethacotyle vera is closely related to a monogenean that was originally described over sixty years ago. The first species described from the genus Lethacotyle was Lethacotyle fijiensis - which was described from a unspecified carangid fish from Fiji (note to fellow scientists - please take detailed notes!), but there are only four specimens of this parasite in existence and only one of them is stored in a museum available for researchers to examine.

A group of researchers revisiting this species' description noted the unusual absence of clamps on its rear sucker and decided to follow up the lead to look for this mysterious monogenean (or at least a related species - which was what they found). As L. fijiensis was originally described from a carangid fish (the group which include jacks, pompanos, trevally and scad), they decided that's where they should start looking. They obtained some Brassy trevally (Caranax papuensis) from some amateur fishermen and fish markets at New Caledonia and looked through the fish's gills for monogenean parasites.

In was on the gills of those trevally that they came across the new species we are featuring today. They were able to confirm that monogeneans in the Lethacotyle genus do indeed lack clamps compeltely on their rear end. Poly-Opees vary in the number of clamps they have - some species have dozens of well-developed clamps while others have clamps that are rather small and may even be considered as vestigial. In the case of Lethocotyle, they are completely gone.

But if they have no clamps, how do they hang on? They have four tiny hooks on their rear, but they are so small that they probably contribute little to securing the worm in place. The researchers noted that instead, the rear sucker has turned into a flap covered in "tegumental striations" in the place of clamps. These are microscopic wrinkles that increase friction and provide traction against a substrate - these microscopic structures might be somewhat comparable to those found on the foot pads of some insects. In this case, it provides enough traction to keep L. vera securely fastened to the gills of its host.

What the story of the Lethocotyle genus and their rear suckers shows us is that parasites are far from being "simplified" evolutionary dead ends, but that they continue to evolve new structures even as they shed others. As with free-living species, certain features often become lost or vestigial over the course of evolution, but then new structures evolve in their place. Lethacotyle might have lost its clamps, but it has also gained a new attachment feature (striation-covered flap) that makes it unique among all the known monogeneans.

Reference:
Justine, J. L., Rahmouni, C., Gey, D., Schoelinck, C., & Hoberg, E. P. (2013). The Monogenean Which Lost Its Clamps. PloS one, 8(11): e79155.

Tracheliastes polycolpus

Photo of adult T. polycolpus from here

Tracheliastes polycolpus is a parasitic copepod that lives on freshwater fish and does so by attaching to the fins of its host, grazing on mucus and epithelial cells. While T. polycolpus can infect a handful of different freshwater fishes, it is primarily found on the beaked dace (Leuciscus burdigalensis). When they occur in large numbers, their feeding activities can severely erode the fins of their hosts, so much that in some fish the fins are gnawed down to mere nubs (see the photo below of a heavily parasitised dace, with outlines showing the missing fin tissue).

So when it gets crowded on this parasite's usual, preferred host, some T. polycolpus find a home elsewhere and start parasitising other species of fish living in the same area. Even though T. polycolpus is considered to be a host generalist and can infect multiple species of fish, not all fish are considered equally habitable for this parasite and it does have a predilection for certain species over others. So what determines which other fish end up acquiring these parasitic copepods?

A group of scientists from France conducted a study looking at T. polycolpus population on freshwater fish in two French rivers, focusing on the 10 most abundant fish species in those rivers. Of the fish that they examined, eight of them were cyprinids (the family of fish that include dace, roach, and carp) while the two remaining species were the stone loach and brown trout.

Photo of parasitised dace with missing fin tissue from this paper

Only cyrpinids were found to be infected with T. polycolpus and of those only four species (dace, nase, gudgeon, minnows) were found to be consistently infected across both study sites. It turns out that next to the beaked dace, the second most preferred host for T. polycolpus is Parachondrostoma toxostoma, also known as South-west European Nase. After the beaked dace, it was the most commonly infected fish, especially in the Viaur river where there was generally higher abundance of the parasite.

It just so happens that out of all the fishes in those rivers, the nase is most similar to the dace in terms of its general body size, feeding style and habitat, making it the ideal second choice for T. polycolpus. On the flip side, it seems that minnow is the worst host for T. polycolpus - it hosted the least parasites out of the four fish species that were found with T. polycolpus and the parasites that were found on minnows were smaller and produced less eggs than those found on the other fish species. This is probably due to the minnow being a smaller fish than the beaked dace or the nase, so it does not produce as much mucus for T. polycolpus to graze on.

So even when generalist parasites do infect other hosts, they prefer some familiarity. The more similar you are (physiologically and/or ecologically) to the parasite's preferred host, the more likely that you will be next in line to get infected should the parasite's preferred host become too heavily parasitised.

But here's an added to layer to this story which you might want to consider - the South-west European nase is actually listed as a vulnerable species - its population has declined by at least 30% in the past 10 years due to habitat destruction and hybridisation with introduced species, so if the number of nase continues to decline, what does this mean for T. polycolpus? Would this result in increased parasite pressure on other fish species as they find themselves soaking up the "excess" T. polycolpus? Or will the the beaked dace experience even more exacerbated pathology as T. polycolpus are left with less alternative hosts to infect?

Reference:
Lootvoet, A., Blanchet, S., Gevrey, M., Buisson, L., Tudesque, L., & Loot, G. (2013). Patterns and processes of alternative host use in a generalist parasite: insights from a natural host–parasite interaction. Functional Ecology 27: 1403-1414

Ophiocordyceps sessilis

There are many species of fungi that infect insects and some of the most well-known species are the ones that infect ants, better known to most as the "zombie ant fungus". We have previously featured one such fungus and its ant-jacking antics on this blog. But while most people might think that there's just a single zombie ant fungus out there which is responsible for creating this intriguing wonder (or nightmare) of nature, there are actually many different species of such fungi and they are found all over the world infecting various different insects. In the Ophiocordyceps genus alone there are over a hundred species and there might be some undescribed fungi that are hiding in plain sight because they have been misidentified and misclassified as a previously known species.

Photo of Ophiocordyceps sessilis from
Fig. 1 of the paper

Today, we are going to be featuring one such fungus and it hails from Japan where they are called Kobugata-aritake which means the "bump-neck ant fungus". The fungi specimen described in the paper we are discussing today were originally collected in 2006 from a forest near the village of Iitate, Fukushima. They were initially thought to be specimen of a fairly commonly found species call Ophiocordyceps pulvinata, but upon reexamination, researchers noticed a number of key differences which separated O. sessilis from O. pulvinata.

Both fungi were found sprouting from dead ants which had their mandibles clamped tightly around a branch in the typical "zombie ant" pose, but whereas O. pulvinata produce a bulbous fruiting body that sprouts from the back of the ant's head (see photo on lower left), ants infected with O sessilis are covered in spiny fruiting bodies jutting out all over the ant's body (see photo on upper right).

Further difference between the two fungi can be seen under the microscope; O. pulvinata produce discrete spores that are long and slim, but the spores of O. sessilis look like beads on a necklace which readily breaks apart into small "part-spores". These part-spores of O. sessilis can also germinate on malt-extract agar plates within two days, growing into soft, velvety colonies of fungal mass, whereas O. pulvinata spores failed to grow on such artificial medium. Finally, comparisons of sequences from selected genetic markers revealed that O. sessilis is clearly a very different species to O. pulvinata.

Photo of Ophiocordyceps pulvinata from
Fig. 1 of the paper

A peculiar thing the researchers noticed is that O. sessilis is only ever found in ants that are also infected with O. pulvinata. They suggested that O. sessilis is actually a parasite of O. pulvinata itself and noted other Ophiocordyceps species are often found in pairs, so what had previously be considered as coinfections may in fact be a case of hyperparasitism (whereby a parasite is itself infected by a parasite).

However, there is another possibility that the researchers did not mention in their paper, which was that O. sessilis needs O. pulvinata to pave the way in order for them to colonise the ant's body. An example of this is can be found among fluke-snail host-parasite systems. Like most digenean trematodes, the blood fluke Austrobilharzia terrigalensis they needs to infect a snail for the asexual part of its life cycle, but unlike those other species, A. terrigalensis cannot infect a snail on its own and is always found in snails that are already infected with another species of fluke. The coinfecting species always appear shriveled and emaciated in the presence of A. terrigalensis and it has been suggested that while A. terrigalensis lacks the ability to subvert or suppress the immune defences of snails, they are capable of colonising a snail once its defences have been knocked out by another species, at which point they barge in, overpower the resident parasite and take over the host.

So either O. sessillis is a hyperparasite (or a "mycoparasite" - a parasite of a fungus) of O. pulvinata, or it cannot colonise a host on its own and instead piggybacks on O. pulvinata, eventually usurping it and taking over the ant for its own. Either way, it appears that O. sessilis is a fungus that can hijack a fungus which is used to hijacking ants.

Reference:
Kaitsu, Y., Shimizu, K., Tanaka, E., Shimano, S., Uchiyama, S., Tanaka, C., & Kinjo, N. (2013). Ophiocordyceps sessilis sp. nov., a new species of Ophiocordyceps on Camponotus ants in Japan. Mycological Progress 12: 755-761.

P.S. I recently wrote an article for The Conversation about parasites that can survive freezing - including the hairworm (otherwise known as the parasite that gives crickets nightmares). To read it, just follow this link here.

Sphaerularia vespae

Hornets can put fear into the minds of many people, but today meet the parasite that the hornets fear (if they are capable of fear). Sphaerularia vespae is a parasitic nematode that infects the Japanese yellow hornet (Vespa simillima) and as far as infection goes, this one is quite a doozy. It specifically invade and resides in the gaster (abdomen) of female hornets where it grows and develop. The nematode ends up sterilising the host (much like other parasitic castrators we have featured on this blog), turning her into a cozy nursery for baby worms. But a new study has shown that they are capable of doing more than just castrate the hornet.

Photo of a queen hornet (from Fig. 2 of the paper)

In a previous study, a group of scientists noticed that the majority of overwintered hornet queens caught in bait traps were infected with S. vespae, so there is something about these nematode-infected hornets which seems to make them more likely to end up in those traps. During autumn/fall, queen hornets fortunate enough not to be infected with S. vespae would visit and poke around various nooks and crannies (usually decayed logs) in the forest to find a spot to hibernate. When the hornet find a place she likes, she will start excavating a hibernacula ( a place to hibernate) and line it with plant fibres that serve as nesting material. But queens that are parasitised and sterilised by S. vespae start visiting decaying logs much earlier during early to mid-summer.

A team of scientists in Japan decided to find out just what those infected queens are up to. For three months between May and August, they made regular weekly visits to a predesignated sites in a forest at the foot of Mount Moiwa and set up a video cameras to observe the decayed logs in the morning and afternoon.

Photo of a hornet releasing
some S. vespae juveniles
(from Fig. 2 of the paper)

They saw that unlike other hornets, the nematode-infected queens never dig nor gather nesting material. They simply crawl inside a decayed log, hang out for a while, then fly off. That is because they have become sterilised couriers that visited potential hibernation sites only to drop off a special package in the form of S. vespae juveniles. A quarter of the infect queens they saw landing on decayed logs offloaded some nematodes (there were some hornets that moved out of sight so the scientist couldn't see what they were up to). But in addition to those observations, the scientists also captured some hornet queens and brought them back to the laboratory for further examination. They kept them in vials and noticed that over two-third of the infected hornets ended up releasing juvenile worms.

When they dissected hornets to see how many of them were infected and to check the developmental stage of their parasites, they found a seasonal pattern to the infections. Queens caught during May and June were mostly infected with fully-mature female worms and their eggs, while queens caught between July and throughout August were filled with juvenile worms that were ready to disembark and infect a new host - which just so happen to be the period when parasitised queens start making regular visits to potential hibernation sites.

So that is S. vespae's game - use the hornet as a mobile incubator/nursery, fly her around during summer to scope out the best pieces of real estate around the forest, then drop off a bundle of worms that can lie in wait like a booby-trap for an uninfected hornet queen to come along and settle in for winter. To complete its life cycle, S. vespae simply take advantage of a preexisting behaviour (seeking out hibernation sites) from the host's repertoire, and "switch it on" at a different time of year to fit the developmental schedule of the parasite's own offspring. Parasite manipulation isn't necessarily about teaching an old host new tricks, but to get the host to perform the tricks that it already knows in a brand new context.

Reference:
Sayama, K., Kosaka, H., & Makino, S. (2013) Release of juvenile nematodes at hibernation sites by overwintered queens of the hornet Vespa simillima. Insectes Sociaux 60: 383-388.

Paragordius varius

Photo of adult worm by Matthew Bolek

The nematomorphs, or horsehair worms, are well-known for their ability to persuade their insect host to jump into a pool of water, thus allowing the adult worm to escape and reproduce. After mating, the adult worm lays eggs which comes out in these long, white, spaghetti-like strings (see photo on the right). The eggs hatch into free-swimming larvae that then infect aquatic invertebrates such as freshwater snails, mosquito larvae, or other small aquatic critters. Once it infects this host, the larva takes between 5-14 days to develop into a cyst stage which is ready to infect a cricket where it can mature into an adult.

The trouble with studying a parasite like the horsehair worm is that because they have multiple hosts in their life cycle, in order to keep them in a laboratory you would have to also maintain colonies of all its host animals on stand-by to act as sacrificial hosts for the hairworm larvae to infect. Additionally, those little invertebrates are not always "in season" and they may not be available in sufficient number when the infective stages of the parasite are available for experimentation.

If scientists can somehow put the life cycle of these parasites on hold at each stage until suitable hosts become available for the parasites to infect, not only would it become less logistically challenging to maintain them in the laboratory, it would also allow scientists to carry out more detailed studies on their life cycles. Fortunately, there is an aspect of their biology that may allow scientists to do just that - the parasite we are featuring today - Paragordius varius - along with other hairworms that live in temperate regions are capable of surviving through winter either as a dormant larva or a cyst inside an aquatic invertebrate that waits until spring comes when there are cricket hosts around. During the winter months the larval or cyst stage of the parasite simply stay in a state of suspended animation as their surroundings freezes over.

This is also good news for scientists who wish to study them - these worms' ability to survive freezing means that the larval stages can be "put on hold" until suitable hosts become available. To explore the tolerance limit of these parasites, a team of scientists put some P. varius larvae and snails infected with P. varius cysts under a series of different conditions including freezing at -30°C or -70°C for 15-30 days or dried out at room temperature or -70°C for the same period of time.

Photo of P. varius larva from Nematomorpha.net

They found that larvae that has been frozen in water at both -30°C or -70°C still managed to infect snails once they have been thawed and they did it just as well as those that were not previously frozen. The only group that did not fare as well were the larvae that have been dried out at room temperature for a month. The cyst stage of the parasite were not as hardy as the larvae and experience a slight decrease in the number of cysts in snails that have been frozen compared to those that were not, and being dried out dramatically decrease the survival of P. varius cysts. Nevertheless those that did survive the freezing process were still able to infect crickets once they were thawed. And while P. varius seems to cope better with getting frozen rather than being dried out, the team who conducted this study also found that the cysts in the snail were better at surviving desiccation at -70°C than at higher temperatures.

So not only did this study reveal an interesting adaptation that allow these hairworms to complete their life cycle in temperate regions, it also discovered a way of making it easier for scientist to study them in the future. What had originally evolved in these parasites as a way for them to put their life on hold during those freezing winter may now also be the key for researchers to find out more about them.

Reference:
Bolek, M. G., Rogers, E., Szmygiel, C., Shannon, R. P., Doerfert-Schrader, W. E., Schmidt-Rhaesa, A., & Hanelt, B. (2013). Survival of larval and cyst stages of gordiids (Nematomorpha) after exposure to freezing. Journal of Parasitology 99: 397-402.