This time, I'm not going to explore some strange animal; instead, I want to share my experiences in the developmental lab. My class has been assigned to take time-lapse photographs of
various developmental stages of the fruit fly
Drosophila. What seemed like a simple task turned out to be a struggle that was drawn out for three weeks. Nevertheless, I finally got my data with the help of a few accidents and improvisation, but I suppose that is how all labs go.
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From http://media.npr.org/assets/img/2012/12/13/istock-00000663 4650-fruit-fly_brick-2ba2bc40bc5cc957bab4ec52fedc36c04d290d67-s6-c10.jpg |
I was intent on getting footage of a newly adult fly as it emerged from its pupa. The walls of the community fly jar were coated with pupae, so I figured I would have no problem. However, gently extracting the pupae from the walls--inevitably letting adult flies escape in the process--proved to be a task all of its own. I finally retrieved several pupae and arranged them neatly beneath the microscope to take a closer look. I figured it was best to have a lot of them to increase the chances that at least one would hatch in the time that I was filming. To my surprise, most of the cocoon-like structures were empty; they had already hatched!
Trying to ignore the loose flies buzzing all about the lab, I carefully gathered more pupae. I found that the darker ones were the most developed, their red eyes showing clearly through the wall of their casing. I gathered them together and set the camera, . . . only to return hours later with no results.
Between the pupae drying out and the camera not working, I found myself two weeks into my assignment and with nothing to show for it.
I tried something different. Perhaps I could catch footage of male and female flies mating. My professor told me to separate males and females for a couple days. When I reunite a male and a female, they may be so lonely that they will get straight to business. It sounded easy, so I collected some adults in a bottle, anesthetized them, and separated them out into tiny dishes--one for males, one for females. They were placed in an incubator with food and moisture. However, within a couple of hours, I found all the females on their backs with their legs wiggling in the air. After a couple days, all of my adults were dead. One dish was molding. So much for that idea.
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From http://jenny.tfrec.wsu.edu/ opm/opmimages/SWDf44.jpg |
I decided to try once more for the pupal hatch. This time, I reached success due to a fortunate accident: As I was arranging my unhatched pupa (this time in a dish so they could not dry out), I went to move one into just the right spot to fit into the image. My tweezers were a bit clumsy, and I wound up ripping off the front of the pupa where the fly will emerge--a part I refer to as the "hood." It came off quickly and in one piece. Shoot! I thought. That guy will certainly dry out. But, as I arranged the other pupae, I noticed that the small fly inside began to poke out of the pupa. He arched his head upward, slowly emerging. I struggled to get the camera ready, but before I knew it, the little guy was out and crawling about.
In an attempt to replicate the incident (and actually photograph it as I was supposed to), I tore the hoods off of a few more flies. Most flies must not have been ready (some still had remnants of their larval stage in back), but I did get two others to hatch on film. I have four links below. The first three are of a little fly as he struggles to hatch. He had a very difficult time emerging, and as you will see in the third video, I eventually gave him a little help. It was really interesting to see how he would shift his fluids from his abdomen so that his head would swell up and pulsate. The last video is of another fly that hatched so quickly that he was most of the way out when I began filming. All of these videos are sped up.