Breakthrough!
Do you remember the first time you saw a fly? Maybe it was a big and beautiful monarch butterfly or maybe it was buzzing away in the house, but that moment when your eyes were introduced to a small and unobtrusive insect will always be unforgettable. For many entomologists, the first fly they found as an amateur was more of an epiphany than anything else. There is something about seeing one of these tiny creatures for the first time that awakens something deep within us- our innate curiosity about life on Earth. When I caught my very first fruit fly (Drosophila melanogaster), I knew that this would be more than just a hobby- it would be my life’s work.
This is the story of my relationship with the common fruit fly, and how it has changed in time from something that I hated to something that I love.
The first time I saw a Drosophila melanogaster, it was on an April morning during my sophomore year at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill (Go Heels!). It was late in the semester, but still early enough where you could justify getting out of a class to chase after one specimen. I was taking a biology class called “Individual Animal Behavior” with Dr. Ray Lercher, who would most likely win the prize for best professor ever if there were such a contest (it probably won’t happen any time soon). Our semester project was to study one animal in detail and write a paper about it. I wanted to study the prairie vole, an adorable rodent that forms lifelong bonds with its mate, but Dr. Lercher had other ideas in mind (he probably knew something I didn’t). That day during class, he casually tossed out an offhand comment- “Hey Brian, why don’t you do your research on the fruit fly?”
I was shocked of course and responded with a long and frantic list of reasons why I couldn’t possibly study a stupid bug that was so small you could barely see it without a microscope and would likely rip my hand apart if I ever caught one. He just laughed and told me that I should give it a try. I went home that night and told my girlfriend about this crazy idea. She said, “Why not? People study bacteria all the time!” And so I sent off some e-mails to entomologists around the country, who generously responded with advice on how to collect flies from the field, how to rear them in captivity and what kinds of experiments they would be good for.
After an extensive search through my local woods, a riverbed only a few blocks away and under all kinds of fruit trees in my yard (the eyeshadow flies sure were beautiful), I finally came home with my first fly on April 5th. I didn’t have a spare shirt with me (or any clothes at all), so I was basically walking around naked. We coiled up inside the house and watched the fly for a few days, as it slowly got stronger and stronger. After about three days, we brought it into our apartment for a few nights of observation.
The very first day we brought him in, he began to molt. Which meant that his wings had outgrown his body, and he was dying- not uncommon when you handle your pet fruit fly this much. We cradled it in our hands and monitored its every movement- paralyzed by its beauty. When the fly died, a few hours later it was time for our first lesson- insect bodies don’t stay intact for very long. As soon as I had carefully picked up the dead fly, its skin began to crawl as millions of tiny maggots spilled out onto our hands. We looked at each other with a mixture of disgust and awe, like we just witnessed a miracle (we kind of did). I had been hesitant and disgusted by the flies that I would find in my house two years earlier, but now they were something to be revered and respected- something that was truly alive.
The next day we got busy dissecting our first specimen (the next one lasted much longer).
Conclusion!
I don’t want to sound overly dramatic, but dissecting my first fruit fly marked the beginning of my life as an entomologist. I learned so much from that little fly, and now I have a pet fruit fly (that is probably 100 times bigger than that first specimen), which sleeps at the bottom of his cage just a few feet away from me, waiting for me to come feed him.
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Breakthrough!