The grower added water to his sphagnum peat-based soilless media, unaware that the water was giving life to more than just his transplants. Deep within the pots, life of a different kind was forming.
As the invigorating water splashed down upon her, she could feel its life-giving magic going to work. From an egg, through a complete metamorphosis, Gnatasha became, at last, a full-fledged larva.
Straining through bleary, newly developed eyes, Gnatasha saw her siblings beginning their new lives as hatchlings, just as she had done only moments before. She was also quite sure that, as was she, they were experiencing their first agonizing bout with hunger; the larvae were famished. Fortunately, new, barely-establishing roots were just a wriggle away.
For days Gnatasha and her siblings were content with their diet of fungus and rotting root hairs-pausing long enough only to molt as they grew. Soilborne diseases which were being spread by their lot were turning the growing roots nearby into a palatable mush. The larvae were now becoming quite large. Again the undeniable pull of metamorphosis drew the plump larvae into new worlds: that of the pupa, then that of the adult fungus gnat.
The grower noticed the transplants he had watered for the first time only a few days ago were failing their mission of growth. This inexplicable observation prompted him to grab a couple of pots and bring them into the lunchroom with him for morning break. He would enjoy his morning coffee, puzzle over the pots a bit, then bring them to the state university’s local cooperative extension office for a more complete diagnosis after his java break. With his hot coffee in hand, the grower sat and rested for a couple of minutes while he stared at the pots with his eyes while his head ran the gamut of the other facets of his thriving business.
At that moment, that very moment, while morning-staring at the pots on the lunchroom table, wiry-legged adult fungus gnats were emerging. Gnatasha was being wooed by one of her pot-mates: a gnat named Lindy. Others were taking a stab at their first ungainly attempts at first flight. Lindy, the gnat trying to win over Gnatasha’s love, tried to impress her by talking flight on the first attempt. He succeeded as he spiraled upwards, higher and higher. Gnatasha was indeed impressed. Unfortunately, Lindy flew to close to the grower’s coffee cup and was being buffeted to and fro in the coffee steam thermals. Lindy, being young and tough and full of courage and stupidity did manage to break free of the thermals, but was caught by wind shear and violently swept downward. Splash. Doomed, Lindy struggled for a few seconds, but was quickly overcome by the heat of the coffee. He drowned. Gnatasha sobbed.
One sip. One sip of his coffee was all it took. Suddenly the world was his oyster. The grower experienced an epiphany. And saved himself a trip to the cooperative extension office. Fungus gnats were now everywhere-flying and falling and walking, then flying some more. Everywhere. He had heard from others at the last twilight meeting of this kind of thing happening to other growers. The general consensus was that it is better to treat new media with parasitic nematodes or special soil-dwelling predatory mites before this kind of thing happened. The grower was now kicking himself for not taking heed. Next time, gnaturally, he will.
Gnatasha, though she still missed Lindy, had married and had larvae on her own. For generations fungus gnats everywhere had heard the tale of Lindy and his tragic end. Had they learned? Heck no. Every day, all over the world, fungus gnats die from overexposure to coffee.
