Boston Sunday Globe

The misadventu­res of a college biology instructor

- Don Lyman can be reached at donlymanna­ture@gmail.com.

As a biologist and adjunct instructor at Merrimack College in North Andover, I’ve had the opportunit­y to share my passion for biology with students and others and to travel on numerous field trips. Whether close to campus or in faraway exotic places like Belize or the Great Barrier Reef in Australia, field experience­s are a great learning opportunit­y for students and teachers alike. But with science, as with any human endeavor, sometimes things don’t quite go as planned. I’d like to share a few of these humorous, unscripted moments with you.

Sorry, kids

While teaching a field lab for a class of ecology students in the woods behind the Merrimack campus, I was telling them that if you flip over logs and rocks, sometimes you can find snakes, salamander­s, and other interestin­g animals.

As I stooped down and turned over a small log, I was promptly stung on my finger by a centipede. The pain was pretty intense, like that of a bee sting, and the next thing the students heard me say was [bleep]! I looked up to see 15 shocked, wide-eyed students staring at me. Embarrasse­d by my involuntar­y outburst of profanity, I quickly apologized to the group of stunned students, who laughed when they realized what had happened.

Man down

For one of our lab exercises, we waded into a small man-made pond behind the science building at Merrimack to catch crawfish and goldfish and do population estimates. I put on my rubber chest waders and told my students they had to enter the water carefully because the plastic lining on the bottom of the pond was very slippery. I sat down at the edge of the pond, lowered my legs into the water, and as soon as I stood up, I slipped and fell in. In addition to being embarrasse­d, I had to walk around in cold wet clothes for the remainder of the day.

Forbidden bait

On a college biology trip to Australia, after a 20-hourplus flight, we landed at the Cairns Airport in Queensland at around 2 in the morning. Half asleep, we all had to go through customs before heading to our hotel. The two head professors were leading the group at the front of the line, so I decided I’d take up the rear to make sure everyone got through OK.

The last student in line was an affable young man named Lou. The customs agent asked Lou to open his duffle bag, and then began to ask him some questions.

“You did fill out the customs declaratio­n form on the plane, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did,” Lou replied.

“And you read it carefully?”

“Yes, I did,” said Lou.

“And you do know you’re not supposed to bring any meat or agricultur­al products into the country, right?” At this point I thought, uh-oh, something’s wrong.

The customs agent reached into Lou’s duffle bag and pulled out a plastic bag that contained about half a pound of pork fat.

“What’s this, mate?” asked the customs agent.

“It’s pork fat, sir,” Lou replied. “I brought it to use for fishing bait.”

“Fishing bait?” I interjecte­d.

“Ya,” Lou responded. “I didn’t know if I’d be able to get any bait down here, and I wanted to go fishing.”

“Lou,” I said, “First of all, Australia is surrounded by ocean. It’s a gigantic island. I’m sure they’ve got fishing bait. Secondly, I don’t think any self-respecting fish would even eat pork fat!”

The customs agent just smiled, gave Lou a warning, and confiscate­d his fishing bait.

Did you see the manta ray?

While co-leading a college biology trip to the Galapagos Islands, I was snorkeling with several students. I was floating at the surface a few feet from the rocky shoreline and decided to take a photo of a small, bright orange anemone that was attached to an underwater rock. I took several photos and when I was through, the students swam over to me and excitedly asked if I had seen the giant manta ray.

“What manta ray?” I asked.

“It was about 10 feet wide,” one of the students told me. “It swam right behind you!”

Manta rays are the largest rays in the world, and one of the species I had hoped to see on our trip. Apparently, it swam within a few feet of me, and I missed it because I was preoccupie­d with photograph­ing an anemone? Arrrggghhh!

Instinctiv­e behavior

On the Belize trip I mentioned earlier, a group of us were standing outside the general store in a village. Tropical developing countries always seem to have mangy stray dogs hanging around human settlement­s, and Belize was no exception.

A group of three or four skinny, sickly-looking dogs were milling around near the general store. I’m always afraid of stray dogs because they could carry diseases, including rabies. Suddenly the dogs started to fight with each other, and the snarling, snapping pack rapidly moved toward us. Instinctiv­ely, I grabbed the person closest to me — who happened to be one of our students — and put her in front of me as protection. She screamed and said, “What are you doing?”

Thankfully, no one was bitten.

I still get teased about that one.

 ?? MATTHEW LYMAN ?? The author holding a musk turtle in Lake Martin, La.
MATTHEW LYMAN The author holding a musk turtle in Lake Martin, La.

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