Sunday, April 22, 2012

(R)evolutionary Drosophilia, Part II

(R)evolutionary Drosophilia, Part II

I remembered this post, written while still residing in My Dream Home after a phone from Mag's to tell me that my fruit fly trap most certainly interested them but failed in its ultimate goal: to catch them. Evidently, they're just a-hanging about the rim on the paper cone I trimmed to size, laced with wine (they do love a good cab - who doesn't, ya know?) and rotting fruit. 
Where have I gone wrong? I could have sworn this worked! I even kept the cap out for Mag's, for easy disposal! So when she called, to tell me they were all just chilling on the edge? I looked this up.

Only to find, I was wrong, and Mag's should NEVER take any drosphilia advice from me, as all I managed to do was create the X-Team of friggin' fruit flies. Sorry Mag's. However, below is how I know I suck at catching the elusive, nasty, invasive and annoying beasts:

Drosophila, a small, rapidly multiplying insect, lives a very short life span. They hatch from eggs, spend the first four hours of their young lives mutating into the full-wingeddrosopholia shortly before it begins to eat, find a mate, and lay nearly one hundred of it’s own eggs, before lazily hovering around, and then, dropping dead. It’s fascinating, that their entire life span is twenty-four of our hours. Not even dog years. They live One Full Day.
Interestingly, you might note, I seem to know a good deal about the elusive yet much seen drosophilia. I should. We did an expirement in highschool, where each team became a parent host, and we bred them, counting them each day, four times a day, to see how quickly our species was multiplying. And, counting mutations along the way. There were several “special needs” ones - one winged wonders that were never going to fly, or reproduce; ones without heads, or feet; and a running ton that were just fine. Healthy little guys…so long as we didn’t use too much ether to knock them flat while we counted them. Flash back to the homestead:
They’ve taken over my kitchen. They pop up out of the trashcan, when it opens to receive the latest dumping of coffee grounds, or anything else unsuitable to doggie digestion. They’ve been spotted hanging out in the sink drain, and miraculously fyling free before the water hits them - but after it’s turned on. Under the cabinets, they’re hanging like bats, regardless of how much Lysol I spray under there. I think, I’m providing my own laboratory for evolution. They’re getting craftier. And, more of them are left to irritate me.
Granted, it’s summer. Fruit can no longer ripen lovingly on the counters, in big colorful bowls, begging to be added to cereal, ice cream, or eaten in passing on the way out the door. Sliced berries, sugared blueberries, fruit salad - all the trimmings and trappings of a bountiful summer lay hidden in the fridge, safe from mass-producing fruit flies invading their tender, juicy flesh.
I built a trap to catch them. I laced a water bottle with slightly-past-it’s-prime fruit (their favorite!), fitted the mouth with a paper funnel, trimmed down to allow easy access to the fruit in the bottom of the bottle, and kept the cap, for easy disposal. How long would we wait to catch some? I figured, overnight, I’d have turned my less-than appealing kitchen into a bug free zone.
And………………………………………….I would be wrong.
They evidently don’t care for the food once it’s in the bottle. Living off Lysol evidently strengthens both their immune systems, and their resolve. They’re not even investigating the bottle. I think they’re even living longer. And multiplying faster than before.
See? I’m breeding smarter drosophilia.
Now, I wonder: if I trap a man in my kitchen, homosapius stupidus, do you think he’d evolve too?

Part II: Have found man....he has been in my kitchen. Seems to be evolving into someone whose company I enjoy quite rapidly. Not quite drosophilia rapid; but rapidly enough. I've near sprayed him with Lysol, and I'll be damned, he's still here. Hmm. Question is, is he evolving, or, (gasp, dare I say it?) am I?

Maybe both. 

All I'm saying, is while he can stay? I'm so not having 100 of his children.

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