Weird Science

Whoever Digs a Pit, or a Few Words About the Antlion

Polish ver­sion is here

The fol­lo­wing article was ori­gi­nally publi­shed in the jour­nal for edu­ca­tors Bio­lo­gia w Szkole (eng. Bio­logy in School) (1/2023):

Ilustracja

Ples M., Kto pod kim dołki kopie? Rzecz o mrów­kol­wach (eng. Who­e­ver Digs a Pit, or a Few Words About the Antlion), Bio­lo­gia w Szkole (eng. Bio­logy in School), 1 (2023), Forum Media Pol­ska Sp. z o.o., pp. 53-57

We can iden­tify a wide range of stra­te­gies used by hete­ro­tro­phic orga­ni­sms to obtain food. One of these is pre­da­tion, often defi­ned as a mode of nutri­tion that invo­lves con­su­ming the body of ano­ther ani­mal as food. It is impor­tant to note that, unlike para­si­tism, pre­da­tion results in the death of the prey. From an eco­lo­gi­cal stand­po­int, this stra­tegy is clas­si­fied as one of the anta­go­ni­stic inte­rac­tions — either inter­spe­ci­fic or intra­spe­ci­fic (can­ni­ba­lism) — which have evo­lved thro­ugh mutual adap­ta­tion, a clear exam­ple of coe­vo­lu­tion. Along with other forms of inter­spe­cies inte­rac­tions, pre­da­tion plays a major role in sha­ping eco­sy­s­tem struc­ture [1] [2].

For poten­tial prey, beco­ming a food source is cle­arly disa­dvan­ta­ge­ous, which is why many spe­cies have evo­lved nume­rous ways to avoid this fate. Unsur­pri­sin­gly, pre­da­tors have, in turn, deve­lo­ped diverse hun­ting stra­te­gies — either soli­tary or coo­pe­ra­tive — to over­come these defen­ses.

When we think of pre­da­tors, we most often ima­gine ani­mals. Howe­ver, this nutri­tio­nal stra­tegy is also pre­sent in other gro­ups of orga­ni­sms: cer­tain plants (like car­ni­vo­rous sun­dews Dro­sera and Venus fly­traps Dio­nea), spe­cia­li­zed fungi (Sty­lo­page gran­dis, Arth­ro­bo­trys oli­go­spo­rus, among others), and even micro­or­ga­ni­sms such as the large amo­eba Amo­eba pro­teus.

Some ani­mals cap­ture their prey in motion. This chase can be fast but usu­ally short-lived — if the prey is not cau­ght almost imme­dia­tely, the pre­da­tor often gives up, as seen with the che­e­tah Aci­no­nyx juba­tus. Other spe­cies pre­fer lon­ger pur­su­its where the exhau­stion of the prey is the key fac­tor, like in the gray wolf Canis lupus. Ambush hun­ting is also a com­mon stra­tegy, used for instance by the nor­thern pike Esox lucius.

A chase is not the only pre­da­tory method. Some pre­da­tors cap­ture their prey using a quick strike of the ton­gue (frogs Anura, cha­me­le­ons Cha­ma­e­le­o­ni­dae) or with stin­ging cells (cni­da­rians Cni­da­ria). Ano­ther rela­ti­vely fre­qu­ent method invo­lves buil­ding traps of various kinds. One of the most well-known exam­ples is the spi­der's web Ara­neae.

Much more rarely men­tio­ned — at least among trap-buil­ding pre­da­tory ani­mals — are the antlions Myr­me­leon. The very name — both in Polish and Latin, ulti­ma­tely deri­ved from Greek — com­bi­ning "ant" and "lion," is intri­gu­ing. So, let us take a clo­ser look at these fasci­na­ting cre­a­tu­res.

Ilustracja
Antlion larva builds a coni­cal pit trap
ani­ma­tion: author's sup­ple­ment

Antlions

Antlions Myr­me­le­on­ti­dae are the most spe­cies-rich and widely distri­bu­ted group of net-win­ged insects Neu­rop­tera.

Net-win­ged insects repre­sent a group of appro­xi­ma­tely 6,000 pre­da­tory spe­cies that undergo com­plete meta­mor­pho­sis. They are cha­rac­te­ri­zed by tran­s­pa­rent wings with rich vena­tion. Toge­ther with sna­ke­flies Raphi­diop­tera, alder­flies, dob­son­flies, and fish­flies Mega­lop­tera, they form the clade Neu­rop­te­rida [3].

Antlions are clo­sely rela­ted to owl­flies Asca­la­phi­dae [4], and the larvae of both fami­lies share nume­rous mor­pho­lo­gi­cal simi­la­ri­ties.

The ear­liest known antlions appe­a­red aro­und 130 mil­lion years ago, during the early Cre­ta­ce­ous period [5].

This family inc­lu­des the lar­gest known lace­wing spe­cies. Adults have two pairs of large wings, each rea­ching up to 80 mm (3.15 inches) in length, with a wing­span of about 60 mm (2.36 inches) [6]. Their body shape and appe­a­rance stron­gly resem­ble dra­gon­flies Odo­nata. Howe­ver, unlike dra­gon­flies, antlions have well-deve­lo­ped, club­bed anten­nae rou­ghly as long as the com­bi­ned length of the head and tho­rax. Ano­ther distin­gu­i­shing fea­ture is the shape of the hypo­stig­mal cell loca­ted in the distal part of the wing — it is elon­ga­ted and nar­row [7]. Both pairs of wings are simi­lar in shape and size, with dense vena­tion. Many spe­cies have distinct spots on their wings. Their abdo­men is long and slen­der.

As men­tio­ned, all Myr­me­le­on­ti­dae — inc­lu­ding antlions — undergo com­plete meta­mor­pho­sis, with a pupal stage. Inte­re­stin­gly, all larvae in this family are pre­da­tory. They have robust, stocky bodies with flat, well-scle­ro­ti­zed heads and extre­mely large man­di­bles. Most larvae live in sand or loose soil. They are not ter­ri­to­rial, so many indi­vi­du­als may coe­xist in a small area. Adults or ima­gi­nes are pri­ma­rily cre­pu­scu­lar and are weak fliers com­pa­red to dra­gon­flies. They feed on insects and occa­sio­nally on plant mat­ter. Fema­les lay their eggs in sand. In tem­pe­rate cli­ma­tes (e.g., Europe), it is the larvae that over­win­ter.

The family con­ta­ins over 2,000 spe­cies found in dry habi­tats worl­dwide, with highest diver­sity in arid and semi-arid regions of Asia, Africa, and Austra­lia. In Europe, they are more com­mon in the sou­thern parts. In Poland, eight spe­cies have been recor­ded:

In Poland, one can most easily obse­rve both Myr­me­leon for­mi­ca­rius and Euro­leon nostras. In my own bac­ky­ard — spe­ci­fi­cally in the sandy pat­ches along the gar­den fence — I disco­ve­red a large aggre­ga­tion of the lat­ter spe­cies. The rest of this article will focus on my obse­rva­tions of it.

Euro­leon nostras

Euro­leon nostras is a ther­mo­phi­lic spe­cies of antlion, first descri­bed in 1785 as For­mi­ca­leo nostras [8]. It is found across nearly all of Europe, inc­lu­ding Poland — tho­ugh not espe­cially com­mon, it can be locally abun­dant. It natu­rally inha­bits forest edges, inland sand dunes, and sandy tra­ils. The body length of adult indi­vi­du­als rea­ches up to 30 mm (1.18 inches), and their wing­span can extend to 70 mm (2.75 inches).

The pre­sence of larvae can be easily iden­ti­fied by the coni­cal pit traps they build in sand (Photo 1). The larva waits at the bot­tom with its man­di­bles open, ready to seize any prey that acci­den­tally falls into the trap.

Photo 1 – Pit trap of Euro­leon nostras; the visi­ble ant is moments away from being cap­tu­red

This insect is not a pro­tec­ted spe­cies (unlike some other antlion spe­cies, such as Myr­me­leon incon­spi­cuus), so it can be care­fully col­lec­ted from the wild for obse­rva­tion under con­trol­led con­di­tions. That said, it is impor­tant to ensure appro­priate care — there is no justi­fi­ca­tion for nee­dles­sly har­ming any living cre­a­ture, inc­lu­ding insects.

Larvae can be obse­rved from as early as June. They are easily col­lec­ted by gen­tly sifting the sand at the bot­tom of a pit. When distur­bed, the larva often beco­mes motion­less as a defense mecha­nism, making it easier to trans­fer onto a piece of paper or into a con­ta­i­ner for tran­s­port to a lab or clas­sroom.

The larva has a distinc­tive appe­a­rance: thick-bodied, about 12 mm (0.47 inches) long, with gray­ish-brown colo­ra­tion that pro­vi­des effec­tive camo­u­flage (Photo 2).

Photo 2 – Larva of Euro­leon nostras, dor­sal view; arrows indi­cate eye pla­ce­ment

The most stri­king fea­ture of the larva is its dispro­por­tio­na­tely large man­di­bles. Its body is cove­red with chi­ti­nous hairs and pro­tu­be­ran­ces. The eyes are small and do not play a major sen­sory role — the larva likely relies more on touch and vibra­tions to sense its sur­ro­un­dings.

Photo 3 – Larva of Euro­leon nostras, ven­tral view

The legs are arran­ged in a way that faci­li­ta­tes effi­cient move­ment thro­ugh loose sand. It moves by pushing bac­kward, a stra­tegy that allows it to easily slip between sand par­tic­les and dig pit traps.

Larvae live indi­vi­du­ally in coni­cal sand pits where they wait for prey. Only the tips of their man­di­bles are visi­ble above the sand. Euro­leon nostras pri­ma­rily feeds on ants, but will also con­sume other insects or arach­nids that fall into the trap. Cases of can­ni­ba­lism have also been obse­rved, with larvae prey­ing on adult fema­les of their own spe­cies while they lay eggs.

Set­ting up a small antlion enc­lo­sure is quite sim­ple. I used a pla­stic box (13 cm x 18 cm x 6 cm or appro­xi­ma­tely 5.1" x 7.1" x 2.4") fil­led with a few cen­ti­me­ters (at least 1–2 inches) of dry, clean sand. I pla­ced the col­lec­ted larva on the sur­face (Photo 4A). A lid was unne­ces­sary, as the insect can­not escape from such a setup. Based on my expe­rience, antlions requ­ire no spe­cial envi­ron­men­tal con­di­tions — room tem­pe­ra­ture and natu­ral day­li­ght were suf­fi­cient. Water is likely obta­i­ned from prey, but ligh­tly moi­ste­ning the sur­face once a week is advi­sa­ble.

Photo 4 – Antlion larva Euro­leon nostras; A – pla­ced on sand, B – ini­tial immo­bi­lity in a defen­sive posture, C – tur­ning over, D – bur­ro­wing, E – move­ment under the sand, F – com­ple­ted trap

Upon pla­ce­ment, the larva often beco­mes motion­less (Photo 4B), a typi­cal defen­sive response. After a short while, it flips over (Photo 4C) and begins to bur­row bac­kward into the sand (Photo 4D), lea­ving cha­rac­te­ri­stic marks on the sur­face (Photo 4E). Even­tu­ally, it starts to dig a trap in a cir­cu­lar motion, tos­sing sand outward from the cen­ter. Once the trap is com­plete, the larva hides at the bot­tom with only its man­di­bles expo­sed (Photo 4F).

To feed it, I drop­ped a sin­gle ant — typi­cally For­mica fusca, tho­ugh any local spe­cies works — into the con­ta­i­ner. The ant usu­ally fell into the trap during its explo­ra­tion. Often, the larva cau­ght it imme­dia­tely. If not, it would launch sand at the prey to force it dee­per into the pit. I also tested other prey such as fire­bugs Pyrr­ho­co­ris apte­rus and iso­pods Por­cel­lio sca­ber, which were han­dled easily. I fed the larva about once per day when it was acti­vely fee­ding.

Once cap­tu­red, the prey's fate is sea­led. The larva injects dige­stive enzy­mes and then sucks out the liqu­e­fied con­tents. This pro­cess takes a few minu­tes to an hour. The rema­i­ning exo­ske­le­ton is cata­pul­ted out of the pit, some­ti­mes seve­ral inches away (Photo 5A–D). The launch hap­pens so fast that even at 260 fra­mes per second, video is blur­red (Photo 5B).

Photo 5 – Dispo­sal of prey exo­ske­le­ton; A – larva pre­pa­res to eject (white arrow), B – moment of ejec­tion, C – ant rema­ins out­side the trap, D – larva buries itself again
Ilustracja
Antlion larva ejec­ting prey exo­ske­le­ton (200 fps)
ani­ma­tion: sup­ple­men­tary mate­rial

In the wild, the larval stage may last for seve­ral years depen­ding on food ava­i­la­bi­lity.

Inte­re­stin­gly, the dige­stive tract of antlion larvae ends in a blind sac — they have no anus. Their method of fee­ding (exter­nal dige­stion and fluid inge­stion) and the high effi­ciency of their dige­stive sys­tem result in mini­mal waste. Any harm­ful bypro­ducts accu­mu­late in the body and are expel­led during meta­mor­pho­sis into the adult form [9].

The larva fea­tu­red in this article was col­lec­ted in May. In early August, it stop­ped fee­ding and main­ta­i­ning its trap. Assu­ming it had died, I gen­tly sifted the sand and disco­ve­red a small sphe­ri­cal cocoon coa­ted with sand gra­ins (Photo 6).

Photo 6 – Cocoon of Euro­leon nostras

The larva had ente­red the pupal stage. I care­fully rebu­ried the cocoon under a thin layer of sand. I added a small dry twig to serve as a perch for the emer­ging adult to unfold its wings and cove­red the con­ta­i­ner with fine mesh to pre­vent escape. Then, I wai­ted…

Patience paid off. After 27 days (33 since its last meal), the adult emer­ged thro­ugh a small hole in the cocoon (Photo 7). In nature, adults can be seen until Sep­tem­ber.

Photo 7 – Ope­ned cocoon

While the larva may appear gro­te­sque or even fri­gh­te­ning, the adult antlion is ele­gant and beau­ti­ful in its own right (Photo 8).

Photo 8 – Imago Euro­leon nostras, late­ral view

One glance at its intri­ca­tely vei­ned wings con­firms its iden­tity as a lace­wing. In this spe­cies, the wings also fea­ture cha­rac­te­ri­stic dark spots. Tho­ugh it super­fi­cially resem­bles a dra­gon­fly, its head — with long, club­bed, curved anten­nae — cle­arly marks it as an antlion. In con­trast, dra­gon­flies have small, nearly invi­si­ble anten­nae (Photo 9).

Photo 9 – Imago Euro­leon nostras, fron­tal view

After obse­rva­tion, the adult was rele­a­sed back into the envi­ron­ment where its larva had been found.

Adult antlions fly rather slowly and clum­sily. They hunt smal­ler insects, espe­cially in the eve­ning. Their life­span is short — just a few weeks, during which they repro­duce and start the next gene­ra­tion.

Per­so­nally, obse­rving the antlion’s hun­ting stra­tegy and deve­lop­men­tal sta­ges was a fasci­na­ting expe­rience. This small and rela­ti­vely unk­nown mem­ber of our native fauna surely dese­rves more atten­tion from bio­logy edu­ca­tors and nature enthu­sia­sts alike.

Antlions in Cul­ture

Altho­ugh some­what for­got­ten today, the antlions Myr­me­le­on­ti­dae have held a place in the cul­ture and mytho­logy of various civi­li­za­tions across the world. Refe­ren­ces can be found in ancient Indian epics as well as medie­val Euro­pean bestia­ries [10]. I would like to pre­sent a few exam­ples from lite­ra­ture that are par­ti­cu­larly close to my heart.

One char­ming depic­tion of the antlion appe­ars in a chil­dren’s book by Fin­nish author Tove Jans­son. Tho­ugh writ­ten for young rea­ders, the story offers plenty of deli­ght and insi­ght for adults as well. I’m refer­ring to the novel — or rather, col­lec­tion of tales — Tales from Moo­mi­nval­ley. In the second chap­ter, Moo­min­troll and Snuf­kin decide to take revenge on the Antlion for bothe­ring Moo­min­mamma. The author descri­bes the ani­mal’s pre­da­tory method with sur­pri­sing bio­lo­gi­cal accu­racy (sca­ling up the size for dra­ma­tic effect), while attri­bu­ting some fan­ta­sti­cal tra­its to the cre­a­ture — such as a mane remi­ni­scent of a lion, per­haps inspi­red by its name. Ulti­ma­tely, the mischie­vous Antlion is thrown into a magi­cal hat and trans­for­med into “the world's smal­lest hed­ge­hog” [11].

Inte­re­stin­gly, the antlion also appe­ars in one of the most famous works by Samuel Lan­ghorne Cle­mens, bet­ter known as Mark Twain. In Chap­ter 8 of The Adven­tu­res of Tom Sawyer, the title cha­rac­ter addres­ses the antlion during a kind of incan­ta­tion, using it in a super­sti­tious ritual. In the 1925 Polish tran­s­la­tion by Jan Biliński, the insect is mista­kenly cal­led a “fo­rest bee­tle,” but Twain’s descrip­tion of the sand pits lea­ves no doubt. In Ame­ri­can English, antlion larvae are often refer­red to as doo­dle­bugs because of the marks they leave in the sand (Photo 10). That’s the term Twain uses in the ori­gi­nal text. It seems likely the tran­s­la­tor mistook this for a bark bee­tle like Ips typo­gra­phus, a true bee­tle (Cole­op­tera), which also lea­ves intri­cate pat­terns — but under tree bark, not sand.

Photo 10 – Marks on sand

Finally, even legen­dary science fic­tion wri­ter Arthur C. Clarke — author of the Space Odys­sey series, Ren­de­zvous with Rama, Chil­dhood’s End, and many other works — refe­ren­ced the hun­ting beha­vior of antlions in his 1961 novel A Fall of Moon­dust.



Refe­re­ces:

All pho­to­gra­phs and illu­stra­tions were cre­a­ted by the author.

This text has under­gone sli­ght edi­to­rial modi­fi­ca­tions com­pa­red to the ver­sion publi­shed in the jour­nal to bet­ter suit online pre­sen­ta­tion.

Marek Ples

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