Nebraskaland

22 Nebraskaland • October 2026 About 50 different species of fungi called Entomopthora (Latin for "insect destroyer") can attack flies. The assault starts when a tiny spore lands on the body of the fly. The spore produces hyphae, which are kind of like the roots of the fungus, and those hyphae grow and branch out into the body of the fly. As those hyphae move through the f ly, the fungus absorbs both water and nutrients from the fly to support its own growth. More importantly, the hyphae eventually work their way through the fly's body and into its brain, where the fungus takes control. The fungus-operated brain then tells the fly to climb as high as it can on a plant or other structure. Simultaneously, the fungus/fly creates and secretes a glue-like substance that helps the fly anchor itself to its high position once it arrives. Stuck securely to the top of a plant, full of fungal hyphae, and having lost control of its own brain, the fly then spreads its wings and dies. Soon afterward, sporangia (fruit-like structures) appear on the outside of the fly and, eventually, release their tiny spores. The fly's elevated position helps ensure those spores travel as far as possible — hopefully, from the fungus' perspective, getting picked up by a breeze before they hit the ground. Those airborne spores travel through the air and a few of them will likely land on a fly to start the whole process again. However, while that's a pretty good strategy, it's not the only one the fungus can use to infect more flies. Male flies are often drawn to female flies who have recently died from a fungal attack and when they attempt to mate with them, the dumb guys pick up spores. When those male flies subsequently mate with other living females, some of those spores can infect those females as well. You can see the results of this creepy, cool interaction in a couple of ways. If you keep your eyes peeled out in nature, you might spot a fly sitting unnaturally still at the top of a plant with its wings spread. If you look carefully, you can often see the sporangia, which can look like white bands wrapped around the fly's abdomen. I think it looks like a bacon-wrapped fly. My wife thinks it looks like the fly is wearing a diaper. Either way, it's distinctive. Other times, you might find dead flies, usually house flies, stuck high up on a window. On closer inspection, you might see a small halo of spores on the glass surrounding the carcass. While you're wiping those spores off the glass, you can congratulate yourself on finding evidence of the continued success of the Entomopthora fungi. Are these fungal attacks on the flies of the world a good thing? That's probably the wrong question to ask. Sure, if some of your local house flies get killed and stop buzzing around your house, you might see that as a positive. More broadly, these fungus-fly interactions are just great examples of the mind-boggling complexity of relationships in nature. Complexity builds resilience, and we all rely upon the resilience of nature for our own survival. Like them or not, we need flies to do all the jobs f lies can do. That doesn't mean we want uncontrolled numbers of them, though. Just like spiders and birds, Entomopthora fungi help us keep fly populations in check. They just do it in a creepier way. N

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