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JOYS AND FRUSTRATIONS OF DOING RESEARCH KENNETH D. ROEDER* Science first reaches the public domain in the form of research papers and technical reports. These must clearly describe new findings or new interpretations if they are to be accepted for publication by journal editors or serve as a justification for the award of funds in support of more research. Consequently, the writers of such documents strive to present their most convincing data ordered in logical sequence, usually in support of a hypothesis. At best, the result is a tightly reasoned, economically expressed, and logically convincing account that may be a useful contribution to science. But does such a publication give a true picture of how research is actually done? Did the scientist really follow an elegant chain of reasoning in executing his experiments? Did he do them in just the order that he has presented them on paper? Did he not sometimes put the cart before the horse, bang his head against a stone wall, or bury it in the sand? Did the carefully reasoned hypothesis that he supports derive only from the patient evaluation of data gathered under carefully controlled conditions, or did it perhaps suddenly spring to his consciousness from some lower center, like the genie from the bottle, Pouff!, perhaps while he was washing the supper dishes? Naturally, the published record contains no answers to questions of this sort, for they would add nothing to the scientific chronicle. Most researchers would rightly reject such questions if they were asked in the context of a press interview. However, I feel that answers might add to the human understanding of how science is done, and I have chosen to interview myself in this vein. I have selected a piece of rather esoteric research that began entirely by chance and continued for 5 years, from 1967 to 1972. I have tried to reconstruct my thoughts and feelings during this period, and in order to curb a professional tendency to rationalize my efforts, I have followed the sequence of daily entries in my laboratory notebooks so as to present a summary in chronological rather than logical order. The chase began on March 10, 1967. On that day I delivered a lecture *Department of Biology, Tufts University, Medford, Massachusetts 02155. Perspectives in Biology and Medicine · Winter 1976 | 231 in the Department of Zoology of the University of Texas at Austin. The subject of my lecture needs a little introduction. As bats fly in darkness they are able to avoid colliding with obstacles and locate, track, and capture their flying insect prey by using a sophisticated form of sonar. Bats emit a rapid sequence of short, high-pitched (ultrasonic) cries and are able to estimate the distance and direction of objects in their path by listening for the returning echoes [I]. Certain families of night-flying moths have evolved countermeasures against the bats' sonar system. Very simple ears located near moths' waists detect the pitch of bat cries. Reception of loud signals indicating a nearby bat possibly about to strike causes the moths tojink and dive to the ground; faint signals cause them to turn and fly away from the bats' feeding area [2]. This situation interests me because it is a simplified version of the universal contest between predator and prey, between the hunter and the hunted. Some of the simplicity resides in the fact that sound is the only link between the contestants. My friend Asher Treat and I had studied moth behavior for some years, and I was trying to understand the "wiring diagram" of the nervous machinery that connects a moth's ears to the muscles that enable it to change its flight path on detecting an approaching bat. This is what I was talking about in Austin, Texas on March 10, 1967. It has taken you less than 5 minutes to read these two paragraphs, but since I had an hour to fill I added many other details, including the fact that while various other families of night moths have ears on their waists, members of the sphinx, or hawk-moth, family lack them. Hawk moths are medium- to large-sized moths and are swift and agile on...
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Kenneth D. Roeder (1976) studied this question.
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