Our story begins with a seed,  an ant, and a leaf.

Or does it?

Each one of these is a phase in  the life of the same creature.

The Australian walking stick.

Deep in the forests of eastern Australia,  a seed drops from the canopy above.

Foraging ants carry it down  to their underground burrow.

They snack on the nutritious  cap, leaving the rest intact.

But this “seed” is a knock-off.

It’s actually an Australian  walking stick insect’s egg.

Here it is next to a real seed the  ants also brought into the nest.

The delicious part of this real  seed is called the “elaiosome,”   and the same part on the egg  is called the “capitulum.” It’s an evolutionary strategy  to get that egg underground.

Why?

Ant nests are just the right  humidity for the developing egg,   and are well-protected from  parasites and predators.

Several months later, the egg hatches underground,  and a stick insect nymph emerges from the nest.

It runs, looking for safety in the foliage above.

It has taken on a new disguise:  as a red-headed spider ant.

Not only does it look a lot like  the ant – it also moves like one.

And even strikes a pose like  the ant, curling its abdomen.

Looking and acting like an ant may save this  nymph's life.

Predators tend to steer clear of   ants.

Ants swarm – sometimes they bite and sting  – and most worker ants aren’t all that nutritious.

On top of that, red-headed spider ants  taste like rotten coconut or bad cheese.

These birds take a hard pass.

Upon closer inspection, the disguise doesn’t  really hold up.

But hey - it gets the job done.

And it doesn’t need to last long.

The red on the Australian walking  stick’s head fades in just a few days.

So the nymph races upwards, into the trees.

After about a month, the insect  begins to change yet again.

It will molt six times as it perfects its  final costume, as it grows into an adult.

That frenetic ant energy gives way to a  gentle swaying – like a leaf in the breeze.

Nothing to see here, predators.

The insects graze all day,  mostly on eucalyptus leaves,   plumping up and growing as long as your palm.

Adults vary in color.

Some even take  on the green ruffled shape of a lichen.

You might think it’d be hard to find  each other with all this camouflage,   but they communicate with  pheromones, so no problem.

Sometime after mating, the female lays  her eggs, and the cycle begins again.

The fake seed and pretend ant phases are more  than just protection from parasites and predators.

Since adult Australian walking  stick insects don’t actually   walk much, they rely on seed-collecting ants  to disperse their eggs throughout the forest.

Then it’s up to their zippy, ant-impersonating  offspring to help them spread out even further.

The Australian walking stick  insect has evolved so many looks,   it almost seems like it’s  having an identity crisis.

But just because you can shapeshift from one form   to another – and another – doesn't mean  you don't know exactly what you are.