Invertebrate of the year – no it’s not a politician!

From the Guardian newsletter by Patrick Barkham

I can’t help but resort to competition cliches with our invertebrate of the year shortlist. Every one of these animals is a winner.

So far, we’ve revealed two creatures that may cause some to recoil. The tongue-biting louse (Cymothoa exigua) finds a fish, burrows through the gills, devours part of the fish’s tongue and then clings to the stump, eating what the fish eats and sharing enough so the fish stays alive.

This crustacean has inspired a horror movie (The Bay, which the Guardian gave five stars), and there’s a sinister side to the dark-edged bee-fly (Bombylius major) as well. This sleek insect hums like a bee, pollinates flowers like a bee and is cute and fluffy like a bee. But it’s a fly, and it scatters its eggs near a solitary bee’s nest so the larvae can feed off the bees’ offspring.

We often anthropomorphise such creatures or ascribe human failings – as I’ve just done using “sinister” – to innocent animals. Many scientists know better, of course, and marvel at the niches that these animals have found. A dark-edged bee-fly in a European or North American garden is a sign of a healthy invertebrate ecosystem with enough wild bees to provide opportunities for these ingenious flies. Such parasites are no different to predators and yet we often view the latter more sympathetically.

The next on the shortlist reveals an interesting trend. There was a lot of love for invertebrates that are small and yet remarkably resilient. Perhaps we are drawn to such hopeful stories in troubling geopolitical and planetary times, when we starkly feel our own powerlessness.

There were several nominations for the scaly-footed snail (Chrysomallon squamiferum), which lives in volcanic vents, making its shell out of iron and protecting its soft foot with iron plates, but that didn’t quite make the final 10.

Step forward the tardigrades, a phylum of eight-segmented micro-animals who can endure boiling heat and freezing cold, and have survived being shot out of a gun and let loose in outer space. Under a microscope, they look as cute as piglets or chubby bears. Our shortlisted tardigrade, Milnesium tardigradum,has survived in space.

I predict a buoyant tardigrade vote and a top-three finish for our fourth shortlisted invertebrate, the flamboyant cuttlefish (Ascarosepion pfefferi). There was a very strong marine showing this year, and a lot of appreciation for cephalopods, which have enjoyed new appreciation since the success of the 2020 documentary My Octopus Teacher.

There are still six incredible shortlisted invertebrates to come, and a gentle giant of a worm is sure to win over many hearts. For me, learning about these remarkable invertebrates is a lesson in just how weird our human lives are. There is no “normal” way of existing on Earth.

I’ve read every nomination and it has been a joyful process to discover the amazing diversity not just of life on Earth but of the reasons people love this or that invertebrate – deeply personal, poetic or just funny. Thank you readers!

This competition expresses some of the joy we get from being neighbours with other species. Invertebrates touch our lives in deep or simple ways. As one reader wrote of cicadas: “Happy noise makers on hot sunny days!”

Here’s to all 1.3 million-plus invertebrates on our special planet, and here’s to us living alongside them in a gentler, more appreciative way.