It's Spring. The air is heavy with moisture and the scent of pollen. For the last month, the earth has edged out of Winter: its face, your face, gradually are turning to the sun. Thankful for the recovering greenery, you are gardening. You hear a buzz, and see a yellow-black thing hovering dreadfully close to your face.
Bee!!
Bees are mathematical entities. Quantum folds are projected in the dances they use to communicate feeding spots. This animal beating air into your eyelashes has mastered the hexagon. It is programming in chitin and flesh, principle on wings. It is perfect.
You don't care. It's got a stinger.
Thwap!!
Poor bee. But there are billions more where it came from, dancing and humming. On closer inspection, though, you see that the stripes are too narrow, the wings too long. Not only that — no stinger.
The dronefly has evolved to exploit the associations most animals have between black/yellow stripes and painful stingers. Had you been a predator — a bird, for example — and had previously acquired the unpalatable taste of beesting, you would be disinclined to rough up a dronefly. Now, you may not be a bluejay, but you were still duped. This creature's mathematics are of a much cruder sort, but they are still effective.
Wikipedia defines a mimic thus:
A mimic is any species that has evolved to appear similar to another successful species in order to dupe predators into avoiding the mimic, or dupe prey into approaching the mimic.
Simple enough. But we have developed categories of natural mimicry based on a number of factors.
First, let's talk about what mimicry isn't. Mimicry isn't camouflage. Camouflage is blending with natural surroundings. Mimicry is more aggressive — mimicry is evolution to actively resemble another specific creature. Chameleons camouflage; drone flies mimic.
In 1852, English biologist Henry Walter Bates observed mimicry in tropical butterflies. One species, having consumed and sustained vegetative toxins during its larval stage, bore a unique set of markings — a warning to predators to stay away. Bates noted that other very similar species in the area, while sharing the markings, did not contain any of the toxins; he deduced, then, that the other species had evolved to exploit the poisonous reputation of the original species. This kind of mimicry, wherein the 'model' is dangerous but the mimics are not, became known as Batesian mimicry.
Our friend the dronefly is also a Batesian mimic. It has no stinger. Despite its threatening markings, it is harmless. This is the definition of Batesian mimicry: being harmless, and resembling a harmful creature.
There are some exemplary Batesian mimics. Borneo grasshopper Condylodera tricondyloides bears such a close resemblance to the ferocious tiger beetle — even down to the gait — that many of them have been removed from museum collections, mistakenly displayed as beetles.
And what of the similarity between bees and wasps? Both are dangerous! Surely, this is another kind of mimicry?
It is.
German Zoologist Fritz Müller observed a more honest variety of mimics, who actually possess some of the unpalatable or otherwise dangerous characteristics of their models. The most famous example of that is, again, bees and wasps. Hornets too! Müllerian mimics can expand into umbrellas of hundreds of species (especially in the tropics), evolving cooperatively to possess the most unsavory characteristics in the region. Monarch and Viceroy butterflies are both poisonous and share very closely the mottled black, white, and reddish trademark wing pattern. Müllerians, both.
Now for the creepy ones!
Bates and Müller outline the basics of natural mimicry. But there are subclasses of mimicry in which animals appear harmless to lure in prey, or live undetected among other species to exploit food resources.
A female Photus lightning bug is an aggressive mimic. Her abdomen glows and pulses in the rhythms of other firefly species. Hormone-crazy males come buzzing along looking for a mate — chomp, dead. E.G. Peckham is responsible for sussing out and categorizing these buggers, which is why aggressive mimicry is alternatively known as Peckhamian.
The similar Wasmaanian mimicry can be observed in certain species of jumping spider who very closely resemble ants. The spiders are welcomed into the colony as laborers and enjoy a prolonged feast.
And there are more, though they are not quite as devious as Peckham's or Wasmaan's.
Automimicry involves using one part of the body to look like another part. Some fish have spots on their tails which resemble eyes; some snakes have tails that look like heads, and even slither backwards. It also encompasses animal genderbending, wherein males appear female, and vice versa.
Nikolai Vavilov described mimics which copy domesticated plants. Because domesticity of plants depends heavily on selective breeding, the mimics eventually become domesticated as well. Vavilovian mimics do not occur in the wild.
A thinly populated subset of Müllerian mimics described by Robert Mertens (by now I should not have to name the type of mimicry) encompasses species, ranging from harmless to deadly, which share the same basic physical blueprint. A good example is the harmless milk snake/moderately venomous false coral snake/deadly coral snake trio (yellow touches red, you're dead).
Sources
University of Arizona
http://ag.arizona.edu/pubs/ahb/inf11.html
Wikipedia
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mimicry
University of Florida Book of Insect Records
http://ufbir.ifas.ufl.edu/chap28.htm
EvoWiki
http://wiki.cotch.net/index.php/Mimicry
Learn about Insects
http://www.bombus.freeserve.co.uk/mimicry.htm
Peter Chew, Mimicry and Camouflage
http://www.geocities.com/brisbane_insects/Mimicry.htm