Let’s face it. It’s easier to get along with your pets than it is to even make small talk with the clerk at the gas station some days. We’ve all been there. When your friends ditch you at a party, or the so-called love of your life leaves you high and dry for that chode she just met, when your therapist turns you in to the cops just because of your murderous fantasies, or when your work buddy betrays your trust, and you find yourself jobless because you let it slip that the sexually suggestive pictures of feet that Melinda keeps getting, are from you. People can’t be trusted, so we turn to our pets. Fido will never judge you for your fetishes. What is it about interspecies friendships that just work so well? Maybe it’s because we don’t speak the same language, maybe it’s because there’s an understanding that it’s a two-way street (I’ll scratch your butt and you lick my face at 3 a.m.), or maybe it’s just because they’re so darn cute. Maybe we’ll never know. Mutualistic symbiotic relationships don’t always seem like friendship... exactly, but when two life forms rely on one another, it’s a special, magical, and occasionally grotesque thing. Let’s now consider some of these unique bonds between non-human animals and the benefits for those involved:
In what may be the most adorable mutualistic relationship imaginable, the large burrowing tarantula (Xenesthis immanis) will often keep this unbelievably tiny frog in its hidey-hole, like a weird little pet. The frog gets guaranteed free meals of parasites that would otherwise damage the tarantula or her eggs (plus the protection of the massive arachnid), and the tarantula gets pest control. Best of all, we get pictures of it.
Several species of ants are known to have a shepherd-and-flock sort of relationship with aphids. The aphids parasitize a plant or vine, feeding on it as your ex-girlfriend fed on you—slowly sucking you dry until you’re nothing but a withered husk. When a predatory insect (like a ladybug or some such) comes along to eat the aphids, the farmer ants are there like your ex’s new boyfriend and his rippling abs. The ants defend their parasite charges, chasing off any would-be foes. Why do they do this? Well, the aphids, for their part, produce something called "honeydew" that the ants collect and feed on—little droplets of excess moisture and sweetness that keep their Adonis-ants in thrall. Honeydew sure sounds nice, but in reality, it’s basically excrement the aphids are producing, so keep that in mind when you start pining for the one that got away.
Boxer crabs are pretty small and not nearly as intimidating as some of their larger, pinchier cousins. To protect them from some of the fish and other predators (who’d normally love nothing more than to chow down on some tasty, wee crab-snax), these creative crustaceans have developed a relationship with stinging sea anemones, wearing them like, well, boxing gloves. If one anemone is removed or disconnected somehow, the crab simply splits the other one in two and attaches it to his second claw. The anemone will get over it and grow back eventually, though I’m sure being torn in half isn’t ideal. For their benefit, though, the anemones get to consume the morsels of food that this messy eater misses, and the crab gets probably the most badass pair of mittens the world has ever seen. Like brass knuckles with poison ivy on the outside of ‘em or something. Hardcore.
Who knows how this odd couple got together, but nowhere else in the animal kingdom do two creatures make up for each other’s shortcomings more elegantly than this pair. The Goby is a fish, and as such, has no arms with which to dig out a safe nest for itself, duh. What it does have is excellent eyesight. The Pistol Shrimp can dig like no one’s business but have crap vision. As such, these two creatures will often pair up as roommates—the shrimp making a den for the two of them to share. During the day, the Goby hovers above, hangin’ with its buds and feeding, always watchful for predators, warning the shrimp if any sketchy characters come too close. At night, they rest together in the small home. Love is strange, but as long as everyone’s consenting, who am I to judge?
The Egyptian plover verges on being the most kamikaze of all participants in any symbiotic odd couple. This African bird will casually alight in the open jaws of a Nile croc and take the opportunity provided to clean the rotting meat scraps from between the massive predator’s teeth. Amazingly, the hulking reptile not only avoids chowing down on the careless avian but, in fact, seems to enjoy the treatment. Like a spa day, but way, way grosser.
In this unholy union, which is absolutely a supervillain team-up, the yellow (Thomisus nepenthiphilus) and red (Misumenops nepenthicola) crab spiders have learned to combine their wily style of ambush hunting with the drowny, drowny vat of digestive goo in several types of pitcher plant that live in Southeast Asia. The spider hides just out of view of the lip inside the flower, and when a curious insect comes along, the spider grabs it, has its meal, and throws the rest into the sacrificial liquid below. Should the insect be overly large, the spider can hurl it directly in or even dive in with it since it can always rappel out. You might think this means that the Pitcher plant gets a bum deal here since it’s Leftover City, but scientists who studied this relationship noted that overall, the plant and spider team-up were significantly more successful than either one working independently. Teamwork makes the dream work, especially if your dream is liquefied invertebrate guts.
While this is only a small fraction of the odd ways that animals cooperate, it just goes to show that humans aren’t the only ones who rely on the company of other creatures. Sometimes we all need a friend, sacrificial pool of weak acid, stinging gloves, or living toothpick.
Esmeralda Rupp-Spangle is her own symbiote. She can be tracked down on Facebook as Esmeralda Marina and Instagram as @EsmeraldaSilentCitadel.
