You’ve seen this brilliant red before.

In  textiles, world-renowned paintings, even   in the red coats once worn by the British army.

In fact, you've probably even tasted this color.

And it all comes from an insect deeply rooted  in the history of Oaxaca, Mexico: cochineal.

Instead of blood, most insects  and arachnids have hemolymph,   which is clear.

But the cochineal's  hemolymph is a rich crimson.

Despite the vibrant color they produce,  their life isn’t exactly adventurous.

They begin as a pinhead-sized nymph, also  called a crawler, for obvious reasons.

It wanders around juicy cactus pads looking for  a place to dig in.

The nymph starts bright red,   but within hours of hatching,  it’s coated in fluffy white wax.

Filaments of wax ooze out of these pores  and grow longer than the nymph’s own body.

This coating prevents the insects  from drying out in the hot sun.

When a female finds the perfect place to dine,  she uses her mouth to hook in and hold on.

She’ll stay here for the rest of her life, eating,  ballooning in size and making even more wax.

Males, when they’re a few weeks old,   encase themselves in cocoons.

When they  emerge, butt first, they’ve grown wings.

These can help them glide to other  nearby cactus pads in search of a   mate.

But usually a female is  just steps away.

They get busy.

A few weeks after mating, female  cochineals lay their eggs.

Within minutes,   bright red nymphs hatch, often  before the eggs have even dropped!

So what’s responsible for the cochineal’s   deep, dark red?

Carminic acid, a bitter  substance that deters nearly all predators.

But not this hungry beetle larva.

It gulps  down so many cochineals it turns red itself.

No hiding what you had for lunch!

Carminic acid is most concentrated in female  cochineals, which live three to four months.

To harvest female cochineals, people gently brush  them off cacti and dry them in the sun.

Indigenous   people in Mexico cultivated cochineal long before  Spain made it a global commodity.

In the 1700s,   the insect was as valuable as silver.

Not only was  its pigment beautiful, it was also fade-resistant.

In Teotitlán del Valle, a Zapotec town  outside Oaxaca city, weaver Marina   González grinds dried cochineal on a metate.

She dissolves the powder into large tubs of   boiling water to dye wool.

Next, her son Juan  Carlos removes the wool, cleans it and dries it.

Juan Carlos’ brother Alejandro uses a  loom to transform the colored wool into   stunning designs.

It takes about 5,000 dried  cochineals to dye this medium-sized tapestry.

Cochineal shows up in other places too, like  your food.

Manufacturers often use it as an   alternative to artificial dyes.

But it may cause  allergies, and it is definitely not vegetarian.

The cochineal's lasting, vibrant color may be the   closest the natural world has come  to making a perfect red.

This insect   may only live a few months.

But its  legacy will live on for generations.