Deep within the American Museum of Natural History lies a hidden world, tucked away from the prying eyes of visitors and researchers alike. Past the grandeur of suspended blue whales and towering Alaska brown bears on the first floor, there exists an unassuming locked door marked simply as “Bug Colony.”
A small sign above it reads those two words that hold a wealth of mystery and intrigue – “Bug Colony.” Beyond this door, accessible only to a select few museum employees, resides an army of thousands of dermestid beetles tirelessly working day in and day out on a macabre task that even the most skilled human specialists in the museum cannot match.
These six-legged staffers are not your ordinary insects; they are flesh-eating beetles with an insatiable appetite for meat. Their mission? To meticulously clean animal skeletons down to their bare bones, leaving behind nothing but immaculate remains fit for scientific study and public display.
Within three large gray wooden boxes resembling footlockers, lined with gleaming stainless steel, lies the heart of this operation – the beetle colony itself. As you lift their flip-up tops, a sight both mesmerizing and unsettling greets you: swarms of beetles swarming over the earthly remnants of various small animals, predominantly birds. Their tiny mandibles diligently strip every morsel of flesh from the carcasses, filling the room with a soft crackling sound akin to frying food or Rice Krispies in milk.
“It sounds like something frying, or Rice Krispies when you add milk,” remarked Rob Pascocello, affectionately known as the colony’s tender. Those who dare step through that unassuming door into this cloistered realm find themselves immersed in an eternal symphony of chewing and gnawing.
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“The use of dermestid beetles in museums is not just efficient but also environmentally friendly as it eliminates the need for harsh chemicals during specimen preparation,” explained Dr. Entomologist Smith.
As these remarkable creatures go about their gruesome yet essential work behind closed doors, they play a crucial role in ensuring that delicate skeletons too intricate for human hands are expertly cleaned and preserved. The fine craftsmanship exhibited by these beetles is unmatched; each bone meticulously handled with precision by nature’s own cleanup crew.
The Bug Colony stands as a testament to nature’s efficiency and adaptability while serving as an invaluable resource for scientific research and educational purposes within one of America’s most prestigious natural history museums. Every clickety-clack echoing through those wooden boxes tells a tale not just about decomposition but about renewal – turning death into life once more under nature’s watchful eye.
So next time you visit a museum filled with pristine skeletons gleaming under bright lights, remember that behind closed doors lies an unseen workforce comprising thousands of tiny beetles diligently munching away at flesh to reveal tales buried beneath polished bones – all in service to unlocking secrets long forgotten by time itself.
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