The undertaker of the New Zealand bush moves with a sense of purpose that other insects lack. Carrion beetles have wide, flattened bodies and powerful, clubbed antennae specialised for detecting the chemical signatures of decay from significant distances. They can smell death from far away, and they head straight towards it. Once a beetle locates a dead bird or mouse, the real work begins. They often bury small carcasses, digging beneath them until the body sinks into the soil. This shields the remains from larger scavengers like rats and creates a secure nursery for their offspring. The female lays eggs near the buried carcass, and both parents may stay to guard the larvae as they feed. This parental care is unusual among insects. Carrion beetles are one of the few beetle families where adults actively protect and provision their young. They regurgitate partially digested carrion to feed the larvae, and they defend the nursery from other scavengers. A pair of carrion beetles can raise a brood to adulthood on a single mouse. The larvae are grub-like, with six tiny legs and a voracious appetite. They feed on the decaying flesh, growing rapidly through several stages before burrowing into the soil to pupate. The adults continue to hunt for fresh carrion, always following the scent of death. Without carrion beetles, the forest floor would accumulate dead animals that rot slowly, releasing nutrients over years instead of weeks. These beetles accelerate the process, ensuring that the energy sequestered in a fallen bird or mouse returns quickly to the soil. They are the clean-up crew of the shadows, and they do their dirty work without thanks or recognition. To encounter a carrion beetle is to witness the cycle of renewal in action. They are not beautiful or charismatic, but they are essential. The forest needs its undertakers, and the undertakers need the dead.