know what they eat.” I liked the way Bill Brown addressed me as a colleague, albeit one in training, like a sergeant instructing a private. If we had been in the U.S. Marines, I suppose I would have followed him to hell and back—or something like that, assuming there are ants living somewhere in hell. In spite of my young age and lack of experience, he expected me to behave as a professional entomologist. He insisted that I just get out there and get the job done. There was no hint of “get in touch with your feelings” or “think about what you’d most like to do.” So, pumped up with his
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Really putting that scientist cap on
