Despite the name, this is not an ant at all. The velvet ant is actually a wingless wasp, and the females have traded their wings for a life scuttling across sun-baked clay banks in search of host nests. Their dense, velvety pile of hairs, ranging from deep crimson to striking black, serves as a tactile warning to predators. The hairs cover an exceptionally tough, rounded exoskeleton that protects against the stings and defensive bites of the bees they parasitise. Males look completely different. They grow wings and patrol the air above the same sandy banks, looking for flightless females. The winged males are seldom seen, while the fuzzy females catch the eye of anyone walking a hot track in summer. Their bright colours are not for camouflage. They are aposematic signals, a universal language of the wild that says do not touch. Females spend their days searching for underground burrows of native ground-dwelling bees. Once she finds one, she deposits a single egg near the host's developing larva. The velvet ant larva hatches and consumes the host from the inside, a parasitic manoeuvre that secures enough protein to pupate. This strategy keeps bee populations in check, preventing any single species from overwhelming the sandy banks. The sting of a velvet ant female is famously painful, earning overseas species the nickname cow killer. Our native species are less potent but still deserve respect. The velvet ant does not seek conflict. She will only sting if handled or stepped on. Her bright colours are warning enough, and wise creatures pay attention. Currently classified as at risk and declining, velvet ants are sensitive to habitat loss. They need open, sandy areas with healthy bee populations. Pesticides kill both the adult wasps and the bee larvae they depend on. Protecting them means leaving some sunny banks undisturbed, allowing the native bees to nest and the velvet hunters to patrol.