I’ve always held a particular affection for fruit flies; they’re small.  To some, they are a bother.  Pests.  But we share so much in common with them: chromosomes in particular. For me: I can’t explain—fully—what it is that draws me to them.  I think it’s because they are flies: creatures venerated by the ancient Egyptians for their abilities to avoid being smashed.  Fighters were taught to emulate the behavior of flies (especially the nasty one and not the harmless “dew lovers” like fruit-flies.)  I think, ultimately, I like flies because no one else does.  They’re regal and dignified creatures who don’t pretend to be something that they’re not: and like cockroaches, no matter how dirty we say they are, perhaps they’re just a reflection of the things we don’t like in ourselves…after all, fruit flies (cockroaches, houseflies, and other “dirty creatures”) spend their lives cleaning up after other organisms.  They live on what we leave behind; they are Nature’s janitors, and without them and other “vile” creatures, the world would actually be a truly dirty place.  That’s what I like about flies, and—yes—cockroaches as long as they're not my roommates.  Leave them alone lone enough and let them do what they do, and they eventually clean up after you AND themselves.  There’s a lesson to learn, there.

 

I like them—as well—because like any insect, you have to approach them with a mind free of judgment.  After all, a mind filled with judgment has no room for thought.  Anything able to teach a lesson like that is a treasure indeed.