Drosophila Part Deux

Fruit Flies (Drosophila melanogaster)

Let me say at the outset that I hate fruit flies. And they appear to hate me. I love to eat lots of fresh fruit through the Los Angeles summer, but my apartment becomes infested with the damnable bugs. I have several traps filled with apple cider vinegar in which to drown the unwary. Alas, they seem to have caught on and—except for a about 10-12 weaklings per day—avoid falling into the vinegar.

Several times each day, I venture into the kitchen to squash a few dozen of the invasive Drosophila. They retaliate by flying around my head while I am sitting at the computer and playing the insect equivalent of “chicken.” That only annoys me more, so I go and kill a few dozen more.

Last year’s infestation ended when I purchased a kitchen wastebasket with a top, but I think the new generation has figured out a way to sneak through the cracks. I have to now make daily visits to the dumpster with my garbage.

(Excuse me. I am tired of having my head buzzed by fruit flies. I will go into the kitchen and wreak as much havoc as I can on the surviving population.)

There, I have dispatched another bunch to insect Valhalla. But these bugs are getting smarter. When I walk into the kitchen, they start flying, knowing that I have little chance of catching them in mid-air. It is only when they land that I have any chance of crushing them.

Pah, I almost just swallowed one of the little monsters!

Serendipity: Flowers and Bugs

In Order for Flowers to Exist …

Lately, I hav been reading two old books by naturalist Joseph Wood Krutch: The Forgotten Peninsula, about Baja California, and The Voice of the Desert. I found this interesting paragraph in the latter. I sure do like his writings!

Gardeners usually hate “bugs,” but if the evolutionists are reight, there never would have been any flowers if it had not been for those same bugs. The flowers never waste their sweetness on the desert air, or for that matter, on the jungle air. In fact, they waste it only when no one except a human being is here to smell it. It is for the bugs and for a few birds, not for men, that they dye their petals or waft their scents. And it is lucky for us that we either happen to like or have become “conditioned” to liking the colors and the odors which most insects and some birds like also. What a calamity for us if insects had been color blind, as all mammals below the primates are! Or if, worse yet, we had our present taste in smells while all the insects preferred, as a few of them do, that odor of rotten meat which certain flowers dependent on them abundantly provide. Would we ever have been able to discover thoughts too deep for tears in a gray flower which exhaled a terrific stench? Or would we have learned by now to consider it exquisite?