the fungus that hijacks and mummifies cicadas
- Size
- Height: 2–5 cm
- Lifespan
- 1 years
- Diet
- Parasitic: infects larvae of cicadas living in soil. Mycelium invades the insect host consumes its internal tissues and kills it. Fruiting body emerges from soil to release spores.
- Habitat
- Grows on forest floor emerging from soil where a cicada larva has died. Forms a slender club-shaped orange to reddish-orange stalk 2-5 centimetres tall with a darker roughened head.
- Range
- Throughout North Island in native forests scrublands and gardens where cicadas are common. Most common in North Island lowland forests and central plateau.
- Endemism
- Endemic
- Main Threats
- None significant. Localised threats include habitat loss from forest clearance and use of insecticides that kill cicada larvae in the soil.
- Population
- A parasitic fungus that infects cicada larvae in soil. The orange to reddish-orange fruiting body emerges where an infected larva has died. Found in native forests and scrublands throughout the North Island.
- Conservation Status
- Not Threatened
It acts as the zombie-maker of the forest floor. This is a fungus that turns insects into puppets. The process begins with a single spore. It lands on a cicada larva burrowing through the soil. The spore germinates. It sends a thread of mycelium into the insect's body. The mycelium spreads. It consumes the larva's internal tissues. It replaces them with fungal cells. The larva dies. But its body remains intact. It becomes a shell filled with fungus. A fungus that wears its victim's skin. The transformation is total. The host is gone. Only the vessel remains.
When the time is right, the fungus produces a fruiting body. It bursts out of the dead larva. It pushes up through the soil. The stalk is orange to reddish-orange. It stands two to five centimetres tall. The head is slightly darker and roughened. Spores are produced on this head. They are released into the air. They wait to infect new cicada larvae. The cycle begins again. The efficiency is cold. The mechanism is precise.
This is a specialised parasite. Cordyceps has evolved to target a single group of hosts. These are the cicada larvae of New Zealand. It cannot infect anything else. The timing of its fruiting is synchronised with the life cycle of the cicada. This ensures that fresh larvae are in the soil to infect. It is a killer that knows its victim's schedule. The coordination is exact. The dependency is absolute. Without the cicada, the fungus fails. Without the fungus, the cicada thrives. The balance is delicate.
Not edible. Cordyceps is tough and fibrous. It has no culinary value. But its beauty lies in its strangeness. Its life cycle blurs the line between predator and prey. It blurs the line between fungus and insect. The distinction dissolves. The categories merge. The result is unsettling. It challenges our understanding of individuality. The boundary is porous.
The forest floor is quiet. The Cordyceps pushes up through the soil. The orange stalk emerges from the dead cicada larva. The spores will spread. New larvae will be infected. The fungus does not know it is a horror story. It just wants to reproduce. It does not care about our discomfort. It does not seek to horrify. It seeks to persist. The narrative we impose is ours alone. The biology is indifferent.
That is what parasites do. They consume. They replace. They emerge. The larva is lost. The fungus remains. The soil holds the secret until the next season. The silence returns. The cycle waits. It carries on.