“Do I have detritus on my face, Mr. White Coat?” she asked, “I used your method of cleaning the sieve and I am afraid that I might have sprayed some sample on me.” The White Coat man tried to look and see but the light wasn’t good. Someone—or something—was blocking the light. It looked like […]

It had been barely a week since the last Bug Night and the volunteer was already yearning for me macroinvertebrates. “Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana,” he said. “Snow flies like a colembola,” said the spry and spritely springtail, “Is it safe for Bug Night-ers to come and identify us tonight?” […]

Even in denatured alcohol, her appearance had not lost its stunning impact. “Once I was a a fresh and supple pupa; a dewy ingénue with my entire life—a staggering fifteen days—ahead of me,” she said, “Now, it ends like this with a frustrated volunteer trying in vain to identify me.” “But, I, um,” the volunteer […]