Tucson Region

The writing bug has captured scientist

Elizabeth Bernays, a retired UA entomologist, has spent years lying or sitting on the bare ground, patiently stalking grasshoppers and caterpillars while they eat. She's become enthralled with the differences. Some hole up on one or two types of plants all their lives. For those critters, eating doesn't demand a lot of attention - all the better to stay vigilant about predators. For others, finding food is like being a human being at a cocktail party, holding a plate stacked with so many hors d'oeuvres, it's hard to decide where to start. "Of course, we don't have to worry about getting eaten while we make that decision," Bernays says. "But the same principle applies." Bernays says she's an atheist - but she feels something spiritual about the time she spends watching grasshoppers. "I think it's because I'm so conscious that I'm part of the natural world. A lot of the same genes are involved in what grasshoppers do as what we do," she says. She gets giddy when she thinks of those long hours spent in the field. "It gives me a real kick to see them, smell them, touch them," she says. Smell them? Well, she adds shyly, "That might be a bit of an exaggeration." Partly fueled by her passion, and partly as a way to escape a recent tragedy that threatened to stop her, she's decided to turn her lifelong science career into fodder for a radically new venture: prose. Bernays, 64, is starting her second semester as a master's student in the UA creative writing program - where she's been warmly welcomed. "I think there is tremendous interest in science writing that shows the human side," said Alison Deming, a poet and a professor in the department. "It has never been more important for scientists to be able to communicate what they are up to for a general readership. Liz is a wonderful storyteller." There's a practical side to Bernays' bug obsession: Hidden in the ways insects find and eat foods are the very clues biologists can use to sabotage those efforts - which becomes important for controlling crop pests. Sometimes, Bernays does her spy work on behalf of agriculture. She's published scores of papers in plant-and-insect physiology, behavior and ecology. She's made important contributions to breeding programs for pest-resistant crops including sorghum and manioc - both staples in developing countries - and rice. For 37 years, Bernays researched on her own and with the love of her life, fellow UA scientist Reginald Chapman. After a long battle with leukemia, he died in 2003. Bernays says the new degree is her way of answering a yen for creativity that crept into her scientific mind about the time Chapman got really sick. But in the wake of her loss, it's also a way to keep moving. Bernays and Chapman met in England, when she was a graduate student in the entomology class he taught. The 10-year age difference didn't stop them from becoming soul mates. Their careers led them to government jobs in London and then to Berkeley, Calif. There, Bernays had a full-time professorship at the University of California, and Chapman continued his research independently of a full-time job, still publishing occasionally with his wife. After six years, they were invited to apply for a pair of jobs at the University of Arizona. Bernays arrived as head of the UA department of entomology. Chapman was hired as a full-time professor of neurology. Tucson became home

In Tucson, Bernays and Chapman had found a place where they could truly enjoy their personal and professional lives together. "Reg and I shared everything," Bernays says. "He loved my poems. We would read the same books and novels, and discuss them." Bernays was - and is - fascinated with the differences between specialists and generalists in the field and the lab. Specialists evolve to use one or two food sources. They adapt to camouflage themselves within the foliage of their host plant, and they may develop resistance to toxic compounds in the chosen plant, storing them in their own tissues so they become toxic to predators. Most importantly, specialists don't have to spend time moving or deciding between different plants - so they can spend time watching their own hides. Generalists, by contrast, hop around from plant to plant. Their taste buds tune out when they've had enough of one flavor, so they move on. Bernays' work has shown a direct relationship between that finicky habit and a higher death rate from predators. Both Chapman and Bernays spent time hunkered over microscopes, watching how bugs' mouths responded to certain chemicals in plants. It turns out grasshoppers and other plant-eating insects can taste plants' toxic chemicals like humans can taste bitter or sweet - through specialized nerve cells in mouths. Bernays and Chapman were able to recognize this, along with other ways bugs have adapted to their vegetarian lives. And their work has been widely used to control these same pests in agriculture. Bernays acknowledges she feels a deep connection with the bugs she studies. She even likens the generalist vs. specialist argument to one of the differences between Chapman and herself. "Unlike me, my partner likes consistency," she writes, in another essay called "Variety and Black Grasshoppers." "Each morning when I get up I like to choose yogurt or fruit or egg or toast or any other thing for breakfast; and I love to choose. By contrast, he has cornflakes every morning, always." Despite their plans, Bernays and Chapman got cut short on their scientific forays. Just a year after they arrived to Tucson, Chapman got sick with leukemia. The first few years after his diagnosis were touch-and-go: He enjoyed several brief remissions. But over a 13-year period he got worse - and for Bernays, who says her husband always put her first, it was time to make a sacrifice. A new leaf

About seven years ago, Bernays retired early so she and Chapman could make the most of their last years together, which they did until he died about 18 months ago. Also during that time, she wrote down her memoirs of growing up in Australia. It was then that she understood the pull of her creative side - she'd always toyed with poetry - and she began to entertain the idea of pursuing those interests. She wants other people to understand how she feels about the natural world. "My interest, really, is to get the total nonbiologist to understand science, why it's interesting - why it's fun to do it," she says. "I feel if people have an emotional connection with a topic, it makes it more interesting." Bernays knows she could have just written - lots of people do after they retire. Surely, she didn't need a master of fine arts degree. "I'm past needing that kind of thing to define myself," she says. She said the feedback she gets through classes is valuable - but it's also been about moving through her grief. She's one semester into the degree program, with three to go. She's still not sure which project she'll turn into the actual degree work: a memoir of her Australian childhood, vignettes about her life in London in the 1960s, or the bug science. She leans toward the latter, and she's even crawling along with a title for a book of her insect essays: "Six Legs and a Dream: Reflections of an Entomologist."