In nature, the instinctive aversion to dense phenomena often obscures fascinating knowledge about superorganism clusters. In English, such clusters are generally referred to as swarms, a term commonly used for large groups of bees.

So, it's fitting to begin our exploration with bees. In Costa Rica, a soccer match was unexpectedly attacked by killer bees, actually a hybrid of honeybees. While not highly venomous, they emit pheromones that signal others to join in the attack. While large, these bee swarms are small compared to the vast superclusters in human history, capable of being catastrophic.

Plagues of locusts and rodents, agricultural nightmares both, exhibit astonishing outbreak dynamics. Locusts are normally solitary creatures, each eating and moving on its own when food is abundant. However, in times of scarcity, often after prolonged droughts, they gather en masse to migrate and consume everything in their path.

Assembled locust swarms transform into a formidable force, with densities so high that a billion can crowd into an area the size of an airport. With reaction speeds six times faster than humans, they coordinate flight with precision, becoming nearly invincible. While a single locust meets its end on a barbecue skewer, a swarm becomes a relentless force. During the 1954 Kenyan locust plague, an estimated 50 swarms totaled 50 billion locusts weighing 100,000 tons, capable of consuming their body weight in food daily, enough to sustain millions.

Rodent plagues, similar in form to locusts but opposite in origin, thrive on plentiful food. Australian mouse plagues, occurring roughly every decade during bumper crop years, exemplify this.

The key to rodent success lies in reproduction. Mature female mice produce a litter every three weeks, with offspring capable of reproducing in just five weeks. A single mouse can breed into 3,000 in a year, consuming human food stores. Together, locust and rodent plagues during droughts and harvest seasons present a devastating agricultural challenge.

Each year, the American Midwest witnesses a massive mayfly reproduction event. In a single day, emerging mayflies number in the trillions, enough to create what can only be described as a mayfly blizzard. Imagine being surrounded by winged creatures with antennae, so dense they darken the sky, causing traffic jams and even registering on radar.

Mayflies live only a few months to a year, spending their final hours as flying adults with a sole mission: mating. Adapted to judge their world by light, they rely on moonlight for navigation at night, making streetlights unwitting death traps.

Their need to return to water to lay eggs, akin to dragonflies, is hindered by asphalt and concrete, which also reflect light. From the devastating impacts of locust and rodent plagues to the harmonious coexistence of mayflies invading cities, the following cases lean toward local adaptation and cohabitation.

Army ants epitomize using numerical superiority to its fullest. East Africa is a homeland, and to survive winter food shortages, army ants form specialized hunting groups after the rainy season ends.

To survive long journeys, army ants have a unique travel method: large soldier ants build highways serving navigation and protection functions. Through specific pheromone coordination, disturbance in one area alerts nearby ants to remain vigilant.

Therefore, local residents are often inadvertently affected, having grown up with army ants' bites. Strangely, these residents prefer enduring bites rather than considering relocation or extermination.

The reason lies in army ants' strength. Being pervasive and always ravenous, they eliminate all dangerous small animals appearing in corners, including scorpions and poisonous spiders.

Even pests in fields are moved back to the army ant's nest, so local residents are willing to endure harmless bites for latent benefits.

Similarly, in Africa's largest lake, Lake Victoria, mysterious cloud mist gathers on the lake's surface during the rainy season every month. Uninformed people might consider it a geographical landscape, but each mist is actually trillions of lake flies.

Calling them flies is inaccurate; these insects, locally known as lake flies, are actually midges. Due to organic contamination of the lake water, the nutrient ambush has made lake flies increasingly lively, now the world's largest biological group.

Due to their explosive proliferation, lake flies inevitably invade the lives of nearby villagers, who endure near-monthly onslaughts of these creatures. Compared to the thriving lake flies, the villagers lead a starkly impoverished existence. To them, these mosquito-like insects are flying protein sources that are exceedingly easy to capture.

It might be hard to imagine how local villagers capture lake flies—they employ a rather rough method. During their idle moments, families wield pots in the air, coated with water, and swing them haphazardly due to the overwhelming numbers of lake flies. After a few swings, the pots are teeming with these insects, which are then scraped off and gathered to create a popular local delicacy—lake fly patties!

Each patty comprises the remains of 500,000 flies, boasting a protein content seven times that of beef, making it a coveted delicacy. While each village has its unique preparation methods, their collective favorite remains the savory fried lake fly patty.