We owe a lot to insects for helping to keep the world clean. Were it not for the flies and beetles, the world would soon be awash with organic waste, and disease and squalor would run rampant. (As I write, I am about to depart for a 3-week trip to India, where one is regularly reminded of the importance of this relationship.)

When I discovered a dead house sparrow behind my home, I knew it had been dead at least a day, because it had the familiar odor of rotting flesh. Yet, to my initial amazement, the bird appeared to be still breathing. It was not until I gently lifted the body onto a plastic bag that I discovered the movements were generated by the foraging of maggots beneath the skin and feathers. I was reminded of a time lapse film I had seen showing the rapid decay and re-earthing of a dead mouse by waves of maggots sweeping back and forth beneath the animal’s pelt. Readers may cringe at such images, but they are a reminder of the vital role insects play in the efficient cycling of nutrients through ecosystems.

No less a wonder is the work of dung beetles. Growing up in temperate climates where these industrious scarabs are relatively scarce, I have had limited encounters with them. But as a member of a team studying bats in South Africa, I had several opportunities to observe them. I recall a fresh heap of elephant dung reduced to a thin mat in the space of two hours. But it was not until the call of nature forced me into the woods during a lengthy field assignment that I got to appreciate the efficiency of these large, bumbling insects. Dung is a fiercely valuable commodity to dung beetles, and they are extremely adept at locating it, for I was not even finished attending to my bodily needs before several beetles had arrived to negotiate the apportionment of the spoils.