Member-only story
I like to think my scientific career began with my first research project. I was in northern Minnesota, bushwhacking through miles of brush and side-stepping knee-deep puddles to reach an old-growth red pine forest I had only ever seen on a map. I finally reached the plot, where a seemingly unending stretch of burnt-orange pine trees filled my view, and got to work taking samples of fungi at the base of each tree. I spent six hours in the plot collecting hundreds of samples to later plate onto agar in the lab and grow for identification. This was to be the pinnacle of my undergraduate research career, discovering new fungi associated with red pine, identifying potential diseases and rot, protecting the old-growth forest through my hard work.
But the best-made plans of mice and men often go awry. Every single sample failed to grow on agar plates in the lab. Some rotted in their bags, due to poor collection procedure. Some failed immediately upon placement, turning to mush on the agar plates under a sterile fume hood. Some I set on fire, accidentally searing through the soft tissue too quickly after sterilizing my tools. Some made it a day or so before failing on my plates. A few made it a week, then…
