Whether Ichneumon wasps control crop pests is beside the point. The claim made by the Dec 2011 WT isn't that insects serve a useful purpose, but rather that God has a benevolent attitude toward animal life, that he "cares" for them. I used the Ichneumon wasp as an example of putative "design" in nature that by any standard is hard to reconcile with such a claim. Are we really to believe that God, in his infinite wisdom and power, had no other way of controlling pests other than by subjecting caterpillars to a prolonged and (by human standards) horrifying death? Doesn't he care about the caterpillars?
Really, this situation is worse than the Jews slaughtering goats by bleeding them to death because they could make a choice as to whether and how to do the deed and, it could be argued, such a law was only intended to be in existence for a limited time. Whereas, the Ichneumon is "programmed" by "design" to inject her eggs into the hapless caterpillar right from the beginning and will continue to do so through all eternity or as long as there are Ichneumon wasps on the planet. It's all part of the wonders of creation!
For some reason, this thread brings to mind James Dickey's "The Heaven of Animals," which at least treats predatorial relationships honestly instead of as some weird offshoot of human imperfection (which never made sense to me):
Here they are. The soft eyes open.
If they have lived in a wood
It is a wood.
If they have lived on plains
It is grass rolling
Under their feet forever.
Having no souls, they have come,
Anyway, beyond their knowing.
Their instincts wholly bloom
And they rise.
The soft eyes open.
To match them, the landscape flowers,
Outdoing, desperately
Outdoing what is required:
The richest wood,
The deepest field.
For some of these,
It could not be the place
It is, without blood.
These hunt, as they have done,
But with claws and teeth grown perfect,
More deadly than they can believe.
They stalk more silently,
And crouch on the limbs of trees,
And their descent
Upon the bright backs of their prey
May take years
In a sovereign floating of joy.
And those that are hunted
Know this as their life,
Their reward: to walk
Under such trees in full knowledge
Of what is in glory above them,
And to feel no fear,
But acceptance, compliance.
Fulfilling themselves without pain
At the cycle’s center,
They tremble, they walk
Under the tree,
They fall, they are torn,
They rise, they walk again.