Dr. Paul Hebert, Arts’69, can’t recall a time when he wasn’t “insect fixated.” It all started with a couple of naughty moths, which sparked a 70-year fascination with biodiversity. In April, Dr. Hebert received the 2024 Benjamin Franklin Medal in Earth and Environmental Science for his work as the “father of DNA barcoding.” Previous Benjamin Franklin Medal laureates include Nikola Tesla, Pierre and Marie Curie, and Albert Einstein. Only the fourth Canadian to receive the honour – Queen’s Nobelist Arthur McDonald is another – Dr. Hebert invented DNA barcoding: a method capable of identifying all the world’s species and a technology that underpins the work of the International Barcode of Life Consortium based at the Centre for Biodiversity Genomics in Guelph.
I don’t remember much about my parents – well, that’s not true, I remember a lot about them, but my earliest memories in life are of insects, not my parents. My first job was delivering the Kingston Whig-Standard when I was 12, but my childhood preoccupation was collecting insects. It began at age six when I found a pair of mating Cecropia moths – they’re about 15 centimetres across. I was enchanted by their size, colour, and smell; I believe this encounter set me on a lifelong quest to understand the species that share our planet.
My meeting with these magnificent moths stimulated the desire to collect insects. At the time, Kingston had farms on its edge, so the collecting fields were just a five-minute walk from my home. I was not alone – a small band of boys roamed the neighbourhood with nets in hand.
When I was 15, I developed plans to manipulate moth sizes by transplanting their endocrine glands and dispatched letters seeking advice to Queen’s, the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM), and the University of Western Ontario (now Western University). All responded, but one opened an encounter with Father Jules Riotte at the ROM. It was particularly impactful because he asked if I might like a summer of mothing at the Queen’s University Biology Station. I accepted in a flash – this unpaid position involved collecting until midnight, rising at 5 a.m. to take a second sweep of the lights, and then tending caterpillars by day. The next summer brought more mothing with Father Riotte – July in Rondeau Provincial Park, based in a garage owned by one of his parishioners, before repositioning in August to the Harkness Field Station in Algonquin Park.
Over these summers, I met several professors in biology at Queen’s, and this soon led to my involvement in the gig economy. While at high school and throughout university, I probed fish stomachs for Allen Keast, counted black flies for Allen West, raised caterpillars for Bev Smallman, and hunted colonies of tent caterpillars for Dolf Harmsen. I’m certain these experiences catalyzed my transition from an insect-fascinated kid to a successful career in science. And that’s why I’ve found life as a professor so rewarding: it provides endless opportunities to mentor the next generation of biodiversity scientists. In approaching students, I reflect on how short letters, brief conversations, summers of mothing, and working with professors shifted the centroid of my life. Small interventions can be such a boost to young egos. You feel special, right?
