But side by side with these independent existences, there are a certain number which, without being parasites, cannot live without assistance, and which demand from their neighbours, sometimes only a resting-place in order to fish by their side, sometimes a place at their table, that they may partake with them of their daily food; we find some every day which used to be considered parasites, yet which by no means live at the expense of their hosts.
When a copepod crustacean instals himself in the pantry of an ascidian, and filches from him some dainty morsel, as it passes by; when a benevolent animal renders some service to his neighbour, either by keeping his back clean, or removing detritus which clogs certain organs, this crustacean or this animal is no more a parasite than is he who cowers by the side of a vigilant and skilful neighbour, quietly takes his siesta, and is contented with the fragments which fall from the jaws of his companion. We may say the same thing of the fish which, through idleness, attaches itself, like the remora, to a neighbour who swims well, and fishes by his side without fatiguing his own fins.
The services of many of these are rewarded either in protection or in kind, and mutuality can well be exercised at the same time as hospitality.
Those creatures which merit the name of parasites feed at the expense
of a neighbour, either establishing themselves voluntarily in his organs, or quitting him after each meal, like the leech or the flea.
But when the larva of an ichneumon devours, organ after organ, the caterpillar which serves him as a nurse, and at last eats her entirely, can we call him a parasite? According to Lepelletier de Saint-Fargeau, who has so successfully treated these questions, the parasite is he who lives at the expense of another, eating that which belongs to him, but not devouring his nurse herself. Nor is the ichneumon a carnivorous animal, for the true beast of prey cares nothing at any period of his existence for the life of his victim.
True parasites are very commonly found in nature, and we should be wrong were we to consider that they all live a sad and monotonous life. Some among them are so active and vigilant that they sustain themselves during the greater part of their life, and only seek for assistance at certain determinate periods. They are not, as has been supposed, exceptional and strange beings, without any other organs than those of self-preservation. There is not, as was formerly supposed, a class of parasites, but all the classes of the animal kingdom include some among their inferior ranks.
We may divide them into different categories.
In the first of these we will place together all those which are free at the commencement of their life, which swim and take their sport without seeking assistance from others, until the infirmities of age compel them to retire into a place of refuge. They live at first like true Bohemians, and are certain of getting invalided at last in some well-arranged asylum. Sometimes both the male and female require this
assistance at a certain age; with others it is the female only, as the male continues his wandering life. In some cases, the female carries her partner with her, and supports him entirely during his captivity; her host nourishes her, and she in her turn feeds her husband. We find few female gill-suckers which have not with them their Lilliputian males, which, like a shadow, never quit them. But we also find males, living as parasites of their females, among those curious crustaceans known by the name of cirrhipeds. All the parasitical crustaceans are placed in this first category.