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-Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer. HTML
-version by Al Haines.
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-THE WONDERS OF INSTINCT
-
-CHAPTERS IN THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INSECTS
-
-
-BY
-
-J. H. FABRE
-
-
-
-
-CONTENTS.
-
-CHAPTER 1. THE HARMAS.
-
-CHAPTER 2. THE GREEN GRASSHOPPER.
-
-CHAPTER 3. THE EMPUSA.
-
-CHAPTER 4. THE CAPRICORN.
-
-CHAPTER 5. THE BURYING-BEETLES: THE BURIAL.
-
-CHAPTER 6. THE BURYING-BEETLES: EXPERIMENTS.
-
-CHAPTER 7. THE BLUEBOTTLE.
-
-CHAPTER 8. THE PINE-PROCESSIONARY.
-
-CHAPTER 9. THE SPIDERS.
-
-CHAPTER 10. THE BANDED EPEIRA.
-
-CHAPTER 11. THE EUMENES.
-
-CHAPTER 12. THE OSMIAE.
-
-CHAPTER 13. THE GLOW-WORM.
-
-CHAPTER 14. THE CABBAGE-CATERPILLAR.
-
-
-INDEX.
-
-
-Note:--Chapters 5 and 6 have been translated by Mr. Bernard Miall; the
-remainder by Mr. Alexander Teixeira de Mattos.
-
-
-ILLUSTRATIONS.
-
-
-THE HARMAS.
-1. The author and his two daughters in the lilac-walk.
-2. J.H. Fabre's house at Serignan.
-
-
-THE EMPUSA.
-
-
-INSECTS AT REST.
-Bees and wasps asleep, extended in space by the strength of their
-mandibles.
-
-
-THE LARVA OF THE GREAT CAPRICORN.
-1. The grub.
-2. The grub digging its galleries in the trunk of the oak.
-
-
-THE GREAT CAPRICORN: THE MALE AND THE FEMALE.
-
-
-EXPERIMENTS.
-
-EXPERIMENT 1. The mole is fixed fore and aft, with a lashing of raphia,
-to a light horizontal cross-bar resting on two forks. The Necrophori,
-after long tiring themselves in digging under the body, end by severing
-the bonds.
-
-EXPERIMENT 2. A dead mouse is placed on the branches of a tuft of
-thyme. By dint of jerking, shaking and tugging at the body, the
-Burying-beetles succeed in extricating it from the twigs and bringing
-it down.
-
-EXPERIMENT 3. With a ligament of raphia, the Mole is fixed by the hind
-feet to a twig planted vertically in the soil. The head and shoulders
-touch the ground. By digging under these, the Necrophori at the same
-time uproot the gibbet, which eventually falls, dragged over by the
-weight of its burden.
-
-EXPERIMENT 4. The stake is slanting; the Mole touches the ground, but
-at a point two inches from the base of the gibbet. The Burying-beetles
-begin by digging to no purpose under the body. They make no attempt to
-overturn the stake. In this experiment they obtain the Mole at last by
-employing the usual method, that is by gnawing the bond.
-
-
-THE BLUEBOTTLE LAYING HER EGGS IN THE SLIT OF A DEAD BIRD'S BEAK.
-
-
-THE LYCOSA LIFTING HER WHITE BAG OF EGGS TOWARDS THE SUN, TO ASSIST THE
-HATCHING.
-The Lycosa lying head downwards on the edge of her pit, holding in her
-hind-legs her white bag of eggs and lifting them towards the sun, to
-assist the hatching.
-
-
-THE BANDED EPEIRA INSCRIBING HER FLOURISH, AFTER FINISHING HER WEB.
-
-
-THE BANDED EPEIRA LETTING HERSELF DROP BY THE END OF HER THREAD.
-
-
-THE BANDED EPEIRA SWATHING HER CAPTURE.
-The web has given way in many places during the struggle.
-
-
-OSMIA-NESTS IN A BRAMBLE TWIG.
-
-
-OSMIA-NESTS INSIDE A REED.
-
-
-ARTIFICIAL HIVE INVENTED BY THE AUTHOR TO STUDY THE OSMIA'S LAYING.
-It consists of reed-stumps arranged Pan-pipe fashion.
-
-
-OLD NESTS USED BY THE OSMIA IN LAYING HER EGGS.
-
-1. Nest of the Mason-bee of the Shrubs.
-
-2. Osmia-grubs in empty shells of the Garden Snail.
-
-3. Nests of the Mason-bee of the Sheds.
-
-
-THE GLOW-WORM: a, male; b, female.
-
-
-THE CABBAGE CATERPILLAR: a, the caterpillars; b, the cocoons of their
-parasite, Microgaster glomeratus.
-
-
-
-
-THE WONDERS OF INSTINCT.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER 1. THE HARMAS.
-
-This is what I wished for, hoc erat in votis: a bit of land, oh, not so
-very large, but fenced in, to avoid the drawbacks of a public way; an
-abandoned, barren, sun-scorched bit of land, favoured by thistles and
-by Wasps and Bees. Here, without fear of being troubled by the
-passers-by, I could consult the Ammophila and the Sphex (two species of
-Digger-or Hunting-wasps.--Translator's Note.) and engage in that
-difficult conversation whose questions and answers have experiment for
-their language; here, without distant expeditions that take up my time,
-without tiring rambles that strain my nerves, I could contrive my plans
-of attack, lay my ambushes and watch their effects at every hour of the
-day. Hoc erat in votis. Yes, this was my wish, my dream, always
-cherished, always vanishing into the mists of the future.
-
-And it is no easy matter to acquire a laboratory in the open fields,
-when harassed by a terrible anxiety about one's daily bread. For forty
-years have I fought, with steadfast courage, against the paltry plagues
-of life; and the long-wished-for laboratory has come at last. What it
-has cost me in perseverance and relentless work I will not try to say.
-It has come; and, with it--a more serious condition--perhaps a little
-leisure. I say perhaps, for my leg is still hampered with a few links
-of the convict's chain.
-
-The wish is realized. It is a little late, O! my pretty insects! I
-greatly fear that the peach is offered to me when I am beginning to
-have no teeth wherewith to eat it. Yes, it is a little late: the wide
-horizons of the outset have shrunk into a low and stifling canopy, more
-and more straitened day by day. Regretting nothing in the past, save
-those whom I have lost; regretting nothing, not even my first youth;
-hoping nothing either, I have reached the point at which, worn out by
-the experience of things, we ask ourselves if life be worth the living.
-
-Amid the ruins that surround me, one strip of wall remains standing,
-immovable upon its solid base: my passion for scientific truth. Is that
-enough, O! my busy insects, to enable me to add yet a few seemly pages
-to your history? Will my strength not cheat my good intentions? Why,
-indeed, did I forsake you so long?
-
-Friends have reproached me for it. Ah, tell them, tell those friends,
-who are yours as well as mine, tell them that it was not forgetfulness
-on my part, not weariness, nor neglect: I thought of you; I was
-convinced that the Cerceris' (A species of Digger-wasp.--Translator's
-Note.) cave had more fair secrets to reveal to us, that the chase of
-the Sphex held fresh surprises in store. But time failed me; I was
-alone, deserted, struggling against misfortune. Before philosophizing,
-one had to live. Tell them that, and they will pardon me.
-
-Others have reproached me with my style, which has not the solemnity,
-nay, better, the dryness of the schools. They fear lest a page that is
-read without fatigue should not always be the expression of the truth.
-Were I to take their word for it, we are profound only on condition of
-being obscure. Come here, one and all of you--you, the sting-bearers,
-and you, the wing-cased armour-clads--take up my defence and bear
-witness in my favour. Tell of the intimate terms on which I live with
-you, of the patience with which I observe you, of the care with which I
-record your actions. Your evidence is unanimous: yes, my pages, though
-they bristle not with hollow formulas nor learned smatterings, are the
-exact narrative of facts observed, neither more nor less; and whoso
-cares to question you in his turn will obtain the same replies.
-
-And then, my dear insects, if you cannot convince those good people,
-because you do not carry the weight of tedium, I, in my turn, will say
-to them:
-
-"You rip up the animal and I study it alive; you turn it into an object
-of horror and pity, whereas I cause it to be loved; you labour in a
-torture-chamber and dissecting-room, I make my observations under the
-blue sky, to the song of the Cicadae (The Cicada Cigale, an insect akin
-to the Grasshopper and found more particularly in the south of
-France.--Translator's Note.); you subject cell and protoplasm to
-chemical tests, I study instinct in its loftiest manifestations; you
-pry into death, I pry into life. And why should I not complete my
-thought: the boars have muddied the clear stream; natural history,
-youth's glorious study, has, by dint of cellular improvements, become a
-hateful and repulsive thing. Well, if I write for men of learning, for
-philosophers, who, one day, will try to some extent to unravel the
-tough problem of instinct, I write also, I write above all things, for
-the young, I want to make them love the natural history which you make
-them hate; and that is why, while keeping strictly to the domain of
-truth, I avoid your scientific prose, which too often, alas, seems
-borrowed from some Iroquois idiom!"
-
-But this is not my business for the moment: I want to speak of the bit
-of land long cherished in my plans to form a laboratory of living
-entomology, the bit of land which I have at last obtained in the
-solitude of a little village. It is a "harmas," the name given, in this
-district (The country round Serignan, in Provence.--Translator's
-Note.), to an untilled, pebbly expanse abandoned to the vegetation of
-the thyme. It is too poor to repay the work of the plough; but the
-Sheep passes there in spring, when it has chanced to rain and a little
-grass shoots up.
-
-My harmas, however, because of its modicum of red earth swamped by a
-huge mass of stones, has received a rough first attempt at cultivation:
-I am told that vines once grew here. And, in fact, when we dig the
-ground before planting a few trees, we turn up, here and there, remains
-of the precious stock, half carbonized by time. The three-pronged fork,
-therefore, the only implement of husbandry that can penetrate such a
-soil as this, has entered here; and I am sorry, for the primitive
-vegetation has disappeared. No more thyme, no more lavender, no more
-clumps of kermes-oak, the dwarf oak that forms forests across which we
-step by lengthening our stride a little. As these plants, especially
-the first two, might be of use to me by offering the Bees and Wasps a
-spoil to forage, I am compelled to reinstate them in the ground whence
-they were driven by the fork.
-
-What abounds without my mediation is the invaders of any soil that is
-first dug up and then left for a time to its own resources. We have, in
-the first rank, the couch-grass, that execrable weed which three years
-of stubborn warfare have not succeeded in exterminating. Next, in
-respect of number, come the centauries, grim-looking one and all,
-bristling with prickles or starry halberds. They are the
-yellow-flowered centaury, the mountain centaury, the star-thistle and
-the rough centaury: the first predominates. Here and there, amid their
-inextricable confusion, stands, like a chandelier with spreading orange
-flowers for lights, the fierce Spanish oyster-plant, whose spikes are
-strong as nails. Above it towers the Illyrian cotton-thistle, whose
-straight and solitary stalk soars to a height of three to six feet and
-ends in large pink tufts. Its armour hardly yields before that of the
-oyster-plant. Nor must we forget the lesser thistle-tribe, with, first
-of all, the prickly or "cruel" thistle, which is so well armed that the
-plant-collector knows not where to grasp it; next, the spear-thistle,
-with its ample foliage, ending each of its veins with a spear-head;
-lastly, the black knap-weed, which gathers itself into a spiky knot. In
-among these, in long lines armed with hooks, the shoots of the blue
-dewberry creep along the ground. To visit the prickly thicket when the
-Wasp goes foraging, you must wear boots that come to mid-leg or else
-resign yourself to a smarting in the calves. As long as the ground
-retains a few remnants of the vernal rains, this rude vegetation does
-not lack a certain charm, when the pyramids of the oyster-plant and the
-slender branches of the cotton-thistle rise above the wide carpet
-formed by the yellow-flowered centaury's saffron heads; but let the
-droughts of summer come and we see but a desolate waste, which the
-flame of a match would set ablaze from one end to the other. Such is,
-or rather was, when I took possession of it, the Eden of bliss where I
-mean to live henceforth alone with the insect. Forty years of desperate
-struggle have won it for me.
-
-Eden, I said; and, from the point of view that interests me, the
-expression is not out of place. This cursed ground, which no one would
-have had at a gift to sow with a pinch of turnip-seed, is an earthly
-paradise for the Bees and the Wasps. Its mighty growth of thistles and
-centauries draws them all to me from everywhere around. Never, in my
-insect-hunting memories, have I seen so large a population at a single
-spot; all the trades have made it their rallying-point. Here come
-hunters of every kind of game, builders in clay, weavers of cotton
-goods, collectors of pieces cut from a leaf or the petals of a flower,
-architects in paste-board, plasterers mixing mortar, carpenters boring
-wood, miners digging underground galleries, workers handling
-goldbeater's skin and many more.
-
-Who is this one? An Anthidium. (A Cotton-bee.--Translator's Note.) She
-scrapes the cobwebby stalk of the yellow-flowered centaury and gathers
-a ball of wadding which she carries off proudly in the tips of her
-mandibles. She will turn it, under ground, into cotton-felt satchels to
-hold the store of honey and the egg. And these others, so eager for
-plunder? They are Megachiles (Leaf-cutting Bees.--Translator's Note.),
-carrying under their bellies their black, white, or blood-red
-reaping-brushes. They will leave the thistles to visit the neighbouring
-shrubs and there cut from the leaves oval pieces which will be made
-into a fit receptacle to contain the harvest. And these, clad in black
-velvet? They are Chalicodomae (Mason-bees.--Translator's Note.), who
-work with cement and gravel. We could easily find their masonry on the
-stones in the harmas. And these, noisily buzzing with a sudden flight?
-They are the Anthophorae (a species of Wild Bees.--Translator's Note.),
-who live in the old walls and the sunny banks of the neighbourhood.
-
-Now come the Osmiae. One stacks her cells in the spiral staircase of an
-empty snail-shell; another, attacking the pith of a dry bit of bramble,
-obtains for her grubs a cylindrical lodging and divides it into floors
-by means of partition-walls; a third employs the natural channel of a
-cut reed; a fourth is a rent-free tenant of the vacant galleries of
-some Mason-bee. Here are the Macrocerae and the Eucerae, whose males
-are proudly horned; the Dasypodae, who carry an ample brush of bristles
-on their hind-legs for a reaping implement; the Andrenae, so manyfold
-in species; the slender-bellied Halicti. (Osmiae, Macrocerae, Eucerae,
-Dasypodae, Andrenae, and Halicti are all different species of Wild
-Bees.--Translator's Note.) I omit a host of others. If I tried to
-continue this record of the guests of my thistles, it would muster
-almost the whole of the honey-yielding tribe. A learned entomologist of
-Bordeaux, Professor Perez, to whom I submit the naming of my prizes,
-once asked me if I had any special means of hunting, to send him so
-many rarities and even novelties. I am not at all an experienced and
-still less a zealous hunter, for the insect interests me much more when
-engaged in its work than when stuck on a pin in a cabinet. The whole
-secret of my hunting is reduced to my dense nursery of thistles and
-centauries.
-
-By a most fortunate chance, with this populous family of
-honey-gatherers was allied the whole hunting tribe. The builders' men
-had distributed here and there, in the harmas, great mounds of sand and
-heaps of stones, with a view of running up some surrounding walls. The
-work dragged on slowly; and the materials found occupants from the
-first year. The Mason-bees had chosen the interstices between the
-stones as a dormitory where to pass the night in serried groups. The
-powerful Eyed Lizard, who, when close-pressed, attacks wide-mouthed
-both man and dog, had selected a cave wherein to lie in wait for the
-passing Scarab (A Dung-beetle known also as the Sacred
-Beetle.--Translator's Note.); the Black-eared Chat, garbed like a
-Dominican, white-frocked with black wings, sat on the top stone,
-singing his short rustic lay: his nest, with its sky-blue eggs, must be
-somewhere in the heap. The little Dominican disappeared with the loads
-of stones. I regret him: he would have been a charming neighbour. The
-Eyed Lizard I do not regret at all.
-
-The sand sheltered a different colony. Here, the Bembeces (A species of
-Digger-wasps.--Translator's Note.) were sweeping the threshold of their
-burrows, flinging a curve of dust behind them; the Languedocian Sphex
-was dragging her Ephippigera (A species of Green
-Grasshopper--Translator's Note.) by the antennae; a Stizus (A species
-of Hunting-wasp.--Translator's Note.) was storing her preserves of
-Cicadellae. (Froghoppers--Translator's Note.) To my sorrow, the masons
-ended by evicting the sporting tribe; but, should I ever wish to recall
-it, I have but to renew the mounds of sand: they will soon all be
-there.
-
-Hunters that have not disappeared, their homes being different, are the
-Ammophilae, whom I see fluttering, one in spring, the others in autumn,
-along the garden-walks and over the lawns, in search of a caterpillar;
-the Pompili (The Pompilus is a species of Hunting-wasp known also as
-the Ringed Calicurgus--Translator's Note.), who travel alertly, beating
-their wings and rummaging in every corner in quest of a Spider. The
-largest of them waylays the Narbonne Lycosa (Known also as the
-Black-bellied Tarantula--Translator's Note.), whose burrow is not
-infrequent in the harmas. This burrow is a vertical well, with a curb
-of fescue-grass intertwined with silk. You can see the eyes of the
-mighty Spider gleam at the bottom of the den like little diamonds, an
-object of terror to most. What a prey and what dangerous hunting for
-the Pompilus! And here, on a hot summer afternoon, is the Amazon-ant,
-who leaves her barrack-rooms in long battalions and marches far afield
-to hunt for slaves. We will follow her in her raids when we find time.
-Here again, around a heap of grasses turned to mould, are Scoliae
-(Large Hunting-wasps--Translator's Note.) an inch and a half long, who
-fly gracefully and dive into the heap, attracted by a rich prey, the
-grubs of Lamellicorns, Oryctes, and Cetoniae. (Different species of
-Beetles. The Cetonia is the Rose-chafer--Translator's Note.)
-
-What subjects for study! And there are more to come. The house was as
-utterly deserted as the ground. When man was gone and peace assured,
-the animal hastily seized on everything. The Warbler took up his abode
-in the lilac-shrubs; the Greenfinch settled in the thick shelter of the
-cypresses; the Sparrow carted rags and straw under every slate; the
-Serin-finch, whose downy nest is no bigger than half an apricot, came
-and chirped in the plane-tree tops; the Scops made a habit of uttering
-his monotonous, piping note here, of an evening; the bird of Pallas
-Athene, the Owl, came hurrying along to hoot and hiss.
-
-In front of the house is a large pond, fed by the aqueduct that
-supplies the village pumps with water. Here, from half a mile and more
-around, come the Frogs and Toads in the lovers' season. The Natterjack,
-sometimes as large as a plate, with a narrow stripe of yellow down his
-back, makes his appointments here to take his bath; when the evening
-twilight falls, we see hopping along the edge the Midwife Toad, the
-male, who carries a cluster of eggs, the size of peppercorns, wrapped
-round his hind-legs: the genial paterfamilias has brought his precious
-packet from afar, to leave it in the water and afterwards retire under
-some flat stone, whence he will emit a sound like a tinkling bell.
-Lastly, when not croaking amid the foliage, the Tree-frogs indulge in
-the most graceful dives. And so, in May, as soon as it is dark, the
-pond becomes a deafening orchestra: it is impossible to talk at table,
-impossible to sleep. We had to remedy this by means perhaps a little
-too rigorous. What could we do? He who tries to sleep and cannot needs
-become ruthless.
-
-Bolder still, the Wasp has taken possession of the dwelling-house. On
-my door-sill, in a soil of rubbish, nestles the White-banded Sphex:
-when I go indoors, I must be careful not to damage her burrows, not to
-tread upon the miner absorbed in her work. It is quite a quarter of a
-century since I last saw the saucy Cricket-hunter. When I made her
-acquaintance, I used to visit her at a few miles' distance: each time,
-it meant an expedition under the blazing August sun. To-day I find her
-at my door; we are intimate neighbours. The embrasure of the closed
-window provides an apartment of a mild temperature for the Pelopaeus.
-(A species of Mason-wasp--Translator's Note.) The earth-built nest is
-fixed against the freestone wall. To enter her home, the
-Spider-huntress uses a little hole left open by accident in the
-shutters. On the mouldings of the Venetian blinds, a few stray
-Mason-bees build their group of cells; inside the outer shutters, left
-ajar, a Eumenes (Another Mason-wasp--Translator's Note.) constructs her
-little earthen dome, surmounted by a short, bell-mouthed neck. The
-Common Wasp and the Polistes (A Wasp that builds her nest in
-trees--Translator's Note.) are my dinner-guests: they visit my table to
-see if the grapes served are as ripe as they look.
-
-Here surely--and the list is far from complete--is a company both
-numerous and select, whose conversation will not fail to charm my
-solitude, if I succeed in drawing it out, my dear beasts of former
-days, my old friends, and others, more recent acquaintances, all are
-here, hunting, foraging, building in close proximity. Besides, should
-we wish to vary the scene of observation, the mountain (Mont Ventoux,
-an outlying summit of the Alps, 6,270 feet high.--Translator's Note.)
-is but a few hundred steps away, with its tangle of arbutus, rock-roses
-and arborescent heather; with its sandy spaces dear to the Bembeces;
-with its marly <DW72>s exploited by different Wasps and Bees. And that
-is why, foreseeing these riches, I have abandoned the town for the
-village and come to Serignan to weed my turnips and water my lettuces.
-
-Laboratories are being founded at great expense, on our Atlantic and
-Mediterranean coasts, where people cut up small sea-animals, of but
-meagre interest to us; they spend a fortune on powerful microscopes,
-delicate dissecting-instruments, engines of capture, boats,
-fishing-crews, aquariums, to find out how the yolk of an Annelid's (A
-red-blooded Worm.--Translator's Note.) egg is constructed, a question
-whereof I have never yet been able to grasp the full importance; and
-they scorn the little land-animal, which lives in constant touch with
-us, which provides universal psychology with documents of inestimable
-value, which too often threatens the public wealth by destroying our
-crops. When shall we have an entomological laboratory for the study not
-of the dead insect, steeped in alcohol, but of the living insect; a
-laboratory having for its object the instinct, the habits, the manner
-of living, the work, the struggles, the propagation of that little
-world with which agriculture and philosophy have most seriously to
-reckon? To know thoroughly the history of the destroyer of our vines
-might perhaps be more important than to know how this or that
-nerve-fibre of a Cirriped ends (Cirripeds are sea-animals with
-hair-like legs, including the Barnacles and Acorn-shells.--Translator's
-Note.); to establish by experiment the line of demarcation between
-intellect and instinct; to prove, by comparing facts in the zoological
-progression, whether human reason be an irreducible faculty or not: all
-this ought surely to take precedence of the number of joints in a
-Crustacean's antenna. These enormous questions would need an army of
-workers; and we have not one. The fashion is all for the Mollusc and
-the Zoophyte. (Zoophytes are plant-like sea-animals, including
-Star-fishes, Jelly-fishes, Sea-anemones, and Sponges.--Translator's
-Note.) The depths of the sea are explored with many drag-nets; the soil
-which we tread is consistently disregarded. While waiting for the
-fashion to change, I open my harmas laboratory of living entomology;
-and this laboratory shall not cost the ratepayers one farthing.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER 2. THE GREEN GRASSHOPPER.
-
-We are in the middle of July. The astronomical dog-days are just
-beginning; but in reality the torrid season has anticipated the
-calendar and for some weeks past the heat has been overpowering.
-
-This evening in the village they are celebrating the National Festival.
-(The 14th of July, the anniversary of the fall of the
-Bastille.--Translator's Note.) While the little boys and girls are
-hopping round a bonfire whose gleams are reflected upon the
-church-steeple, while the drum is pounded to mark the ascent of each
-rocket, I am sitting alone in a dark corner, in the comparative
-coolness that prevails at nine o'clock, harking to the concert of the
-festival of the fields, the festival of the harvest, grander by far
-than that which, at this moment, is being celebrated in the village
-square with gunpowder, lighted torches, Chinese lanterns and, above
-all, strong drink. It has the simplicity of beauty and the repose of
-strength.
-
-It is late; and the Cicadae are silent. Glutted with light and heat,
-they have indulged in symphonies all the livelong day. The advent of
-the night means rest for them, but a rest frequently disturbed. In the
-dense branches of the plane-trees a sudden sound rings out like a cry
-of anguish, strident and short. It is the desperate wail of the Cicada,
-surprised in his quietude by the Green Grasshopper, that ardent
-nocturnal huntress, who springs upon him, grips him in the side, opens
-and ransacks his abdomen. An orgy of music, followed by butchery.
-
-I have never seen and never shall see that supreme expression of our
-national revelry, the military review at Longchamp; nor do I much
-regret it. The newspapers tell me as much about it as I want to know.
-They give me a sketch of the site. I see, installed here and there amid
-the trees, the ominous Red Cross, with the legend, "Military Ambulance;
-Civil Ambulance." There will be bones broken, apparently; cases of
-sunstroke; regrettable deaths, perhaps. It is all provided for and all
-in the programme.
-
-Even here, in my village, usually so peaceable, the festival will not
-end, I am ready to wager, without the exchange of a few blows, that
-compulsory seasoning of a day of merry-making. No pleasure, it appears,
-can be fully relished without an added condiment of pain.
-
-Let us listen and meditate far from the tumult. While the disembowelled
-Cicada utters his protest, the festival up there in the plane-trees is
-continued with a change of orchestra. It is now the time of the
-nocturnal performers. Hard by the place of slaughter, in the green
-bushes, a delicate ear perceives the hum of the Grasshoppers. It is the
-sort of noise that a spinning-wheel makes, a very unobtrusive sound, a
-vague rustle of dry membranes rubbed together. Above this dull bass
-there rises, at intervals, a hurried, very shrill, almost metallic
-clicking. There you have the air and the recitative, intersected by
-pauses. The rest is the accompaniment.
-
-Despite the assistance of a bass, it is a poor concert, very poor
-indeed, though there are about ten executants in my immediate vicinity.
-The tone lacks intensity. My old tympanum is not always capable of
-perceiving these subtleties of sound. The little that reaches me is
-extremely sweet and most appropriate to the calm of twilight. Just a
-little more breadth in your bow-stroke, my dear Green Grasshopper, and
-your technique would be better than the hoarse Cicada's, whose name and
-reputation you have been made to usurp in the countries of the north.
-
-Still, you will never equal your neighbour, the little bell-ringing
-Toad, who goes tinkling all round, at the foot of the plane-trees,
-while you click up above. He is the smallest of my batrachian folk and
-the most venturesome in his expeditions.
-
-How often, at nightfall, by the last glimmers of daylight, have I not
-come upon him as I wandered through my garden, hunting for ideas!
-Something runs away, rolling over and over in front of me. Is it a dead
-leaf blown along by the wind? No, it is the pretty little Toad
-disturbed in the midst of his pilgrimage. He hurriedly takes shelter
-under a stone, a clod of earth, a tuft of grass, recovers from his
-excitement and loses no time in picking up his liquid note.
-
-On this evening of national rejoicing, there are nearly a dozen of him
-tinkling against one another around me. Most of them are crouching
-among the rows of flower-pots that form a sort of lobby outside my
-house. Each has his own note, always the same, lower in one case,
-higher in another, a short, clear note, melodious and of exquisite
-purity.
-
-With their slow, rhythmical cadence, they seem to be intoning litanies.
-"Cluck," says one; "click," responds another, on a finer note; "clock,"
-adds a third, the tenor of the band. And this is repeated indefinitely,
-like the bells of the village pealing on a holiday: "cluck, click,
-clock; cluck, click, clock!"
-
-The batrachian choristers remind me of a certain harmonica which I used
-to covet when my six-year-old ear began to awaken to the magic of
-sounds. It consisted of a series of strips of glass of unequal length,
-hung on two stretched tapes. A cork fixed to a wire served as a hammer.
-Imagine an unskilled hand striking at random on this key-board, with a
-sudden clash of octaves, dissonances and topsy-turvy chords; and you
-will have a pretty clear idea of the Toads' litany.
-
-As a song, this litany has neither head nor tail to it; as a collection
-of pure sounds, it is delicious. This is the case with all the music in
-nature's concerts. Our ear discovers superb notes in it and then
-becomes refined and acquires, outside the realities of sound, that
-sense of order which is the first condition of beauty.
-
-Now this sweet ringing of bells between hiding-place and hiding-place
-is the matrimonial oratorio, the discreet summons which every Jack
-issues to his Jill. The sequel to the concert may be guessed without
-further enquiry; but what it would be impossible to foresee is the
-strange finale of the wedding. Behold the father, in this case a real
-paterfamilias, in the noblest sense of the word, coming out of his
-retreat one day in an unrecognizable state. He is carrying the future,
-tight-packed around his hind-legs; he is changing houses laden with a
-cluster of eggs the size of peppercorns. His calves are girt, his
-thighs are sheathed with the bulky burden; and it covers his back like
-a beggar's wallet, completely deforming him.
-
-Whither is he going, dragging himself along, incapable of jumping,
-thanks to the weight of his load? He is going, the fond parent, where
-the mother refuses to go; he is on his way to the nearest pond, whose
-warm waters are indispensable to the tadpoles' hatching and existence.
-When the eggs are nicely ripened around his legs under the humid
-shelter of a stone, he braves the damp and the daylight, he the
-passionate lover of dry land and darkness; he advances by short stages,
-his lungs congested with fatigue. The pond is far away, perhaps; no
-matter: the plucky pilgrim will find it.
-
-He's there. Without delay, he dives, despite his profound antipathy to
-bathing; and the cluster of eggs is instantly removed by the legs
-rubbing against each other. The eggs are now in their element; and the
-rest will be accomplished of itself. Having fulfilled his obligation to
-go right under, the father hastens to return to his well-sheltered
-home. He is scarcely out of sight before the little black tadpoles are
-hatched and playing about. They were but waiting for the contact of the
-water in order to burst their shells.
-
-Among the singers in the July gloaming, one alone, were he able to vary
-his notes, could vie with the Toad's harmonious bells. This is the
-little Scops-owl, that comely nocturnal bird of prey, with the round
-gold eyes. He sports on his forehead two small feathered horns which
-have won for him in the district the name of Machoto banarudo, the
-Horned Owl. His song, which is rich enough to fill by itself the still
-night air, is of a nerve-shattering monotony. With imperturbable and
-measured regularity, for hours on end, "kew, kew," the bird spits out
-its cantata to the moon.
-
-One of them has arrived at this moment, driven from the plane-trees in
-the square by the din of the rejoicings, to demand my hospitality. I
-can hear him in the top of a cypress near by. From up there, dominating
-the lyrical assembly, at regular intervals he cuts into the vague
-orchestration of the Grasshoppers and the Toads.
-
-His soft note is contrasted, intermittently, with a sort of Cat's mew,
-coming from another spot. This is the call of the Common Owl, the
-meditative bird of Minerva. After hiding all day in the seclusion of a
-hollow olive-tree, he started on his wanderings when the shades of
-evening began to fall. Swinging along with a sinuous flight, he came
-from somewhere in the neighbourhood to the pines in my enclosure,
-whence he mingles his harsh mewing, slightly softened by distance, with
-the general concert.
-
-The Green Grasshopper's clicking is too faint to be clearly perceived
-amidst these clamourers; all that reaches me is the least ripple, just
-noticeable when there is a moment's silence. He possesses as his
-apparatus of sound only a modest drum and scraper, whereas they, more
-highly privileged, have their bellows, the lungs, which send forth a
-column of vibrating air. There is no comparison possible. Let us return
-to the insects.
-
-One of these, though inferior in size and no less sparingly equipped,
-greatly surpasses the Grasshopper in nocturnal rhapsodies. I speak of
-the pale and slender Italian Cricket (Oecanthus pellucens, Scop.), who
-is so puny that you dare not take him up for fear of crushing him. He
-makes music everywhere among the rosemary-bushes, while the Glow-worms
-light up their blue lamps to complete the revels. The delicate
-instrumentalist consists chiefly of a pair of large wings, thin and
-gleaming as strips of mica. Thanks to these dry sails, he fiddles away
-with an intensity capable of drowning the Toads' fugue. His performance
-suggests, but with more brilliancy, more tremolo in the execution, the
-song of the Common Black Cricket. Indeed the mistake would certainly be
-made by any one who did not know that, by the time the very hot weather
-comes, the true Cricket, the chorister of spring, has disappeared. His
-pleasant violin has been succeeded by another more pleasant still and
-worthy of special study. We shall return to him at an opportune moment.
-
-These then, limiting ourselves to select specimens, are the principal
-participants in this musical evening: the Scops-owl, with his
-languorous solos; the Toad, that tinkler of sonatas; the Italian
-Cricket, who scrapes the first string of a violin; and the Green
-Grasshopper, who seems to beat a tiny steel triangle.
-
-We are celebrating to-day, with greater uproar than conviction, the new
-era, dating politically from the fall of the Bastille; they, with
-glorious indifference to human things, are celebrating the festival of
-the sun, singing the happiness of existence, sounding the loud hosanna
-of the July heats.
-
-What care they for man and his fickle rejoicings! For whom or for what
-will our squibs be spluttering a few years hence? Far-seeing indeed
-would he be who could answer the question. Fashions change and bring us
-the unexpected. The time-serving rocket spreads its sheaf of sparks for
-the public enemy of yesterday, who has become the idol of to-day.
-Tomorrow it will go up for somebody else.
-
-In a century or two, will any one, outside the historians, give a
-thought to the taking of the Bastille? It is very doubtful. We shall
-have other joys and also other cares.
-
-Let us look a little farther ahead. A day will come, so everything
-seems to tell us, when, after making progress upon progress, man will
-succumb, destroyed by the excess of what he calls civilization. Too
-eager to play the god, he cannot hope for the animal's placid
-longevity; he will have disappeared when the little Toad is still
-saying his litany, in company with the Grasshopper, the Scops-owl and
-the others. They were singing on this planet before us; they will sing
-after us, celebrating what can never change, the fiery glory of the
-sun.
-
-I will dwell no longer on this festival and will become once more the
-naturalist, anxious to obtain information concerning the private life
-of the insect. The Green Grasshopper (Locusta viridissima, Lin.) does
-not appear to be common in my neighbourhood. Last year, intending to
-make a study of this insect and finding my efforts to hunt it
-fruitless, I was obliged to have recourse to the good offices of a
-forest-ranger, who sent me a pair of couples from the Lagarde plateau,
-that bleak district where the beech-tree begins its escalade of the
-Ventoux.
-
-Now and then freakish fortune takes it into her head to smile upon the
-persevering. What was not to be found last year has become almost
-common this summer. Without leaving my narrow enclosure, I obtain as
-many Grasshoppers as I could wish. I hear them rustling at night in the
-green thickets. Let us make the most of the windfall, which perhaps
-will not occur again.
-
-In the month of June my treasures are installed, in a sufficient number
-of couples, under a wire cover standing on a bed of sand in an earthen
-pan. It is indeed a magnificent insect, pale-green all over, with two
-whitish stripes running down its sides. Its imposing size, its slim
-proportions and its great gauze wings make it the most elegant of our
-Locustidae. I am enraptured with my captives. What will they teach me?
-We shall see. For the moment, we must feed them.
-
-I offer the prisoners a leaf of lettuce. They bite into it, certainly,
-but very sparingly and with a scornful tooth. It soon becomes plain
-that I am dealing with half-hearted vegetarians. They want something
-else: they are beasts of prey, apparently. But what manner of prey? A
-lucky chance taught me.
-
-At break of day I was pacing up and down outside my door, when
-something fell from the nearest plane-tree with a shrill grating sound.
-I ran up and saw a Grasshopper gutting the belly of a struggling
-Cicada. In vain the victim buzzed and waved his limbs: the other did
-not let go, dipping her head right into the entrails and rooting them
-out by small mouthfuls.
-
-I knew what I wanted to know: the attack had taken place up above,
-early in the morning, while the Cicada was asleep; and the plunging of
-the poor wretch, dissected alive, had made assailant and assailed fall
-in a bundle to the ground. Since then I have repeatedly had occasion to
-witness similar carnage.
-
-I have even seen the Grasshopper--the height of audacity, this--dart in
-pursuit of a Cicada in mad flight. Even so does the Sparrow-hawk pursue
-the Swallow in the sky. But the bird of prey here is inferior to the
-insect. It attacks a weaker than itself. The Grasshopper, on the other
-hand, assaults a colossus, much larger than herself and stronger; and
-nevertheless the result of the unequal fight is not in doubt. The
-Grasshopper rarely fails with the sharp pliers of her powerful jaws to
-disembowel her capture, which, being unprovided with weapons, confines
-itself to crying out and kicking.
-
-The main thing is to retain one's hold of the prize, which is not
-difficult in somnolent darkness. Any Cicada encountered by the fierce
-Locustid on her nocturnal rounds is bound to die a lamentable death.
-This explains those sudden agonized notes which grate through the woods
-at late, unseasonable hours, when the cymbals have long been silent.
-The murderess in her suit of apple-green has pounced on some sleeping
-Cicada.
-
-My boarders' menu is settled: I will feed them on Cicadae. They take
-such a liking to this fare that, in two or three weeks, the floor of
-the cage is a knacker's yard strewn with heads and empty thoraces, with
-torn-off wings and disjointed legs. The belly alone disappears almost
-entirely. This is the tit-bit, not very substantial, but extremely
-tasty, it would seem. Here, in fact, in the insect's crop, the syrup is
-accumulated, the sugary sap which the Cicada's gimlet taps from the
-tender bark. Is it because of this dainty that the prey's abdomen is
-preferred to any other morsel? It is quite possible.
-
-I do, in fact, with a view to varying the diet, decide to serve up some
-very sweet fruits, slices of pear, grape-bits, bits of melon. All this
-meets with delighted appreciation. The Green Grasshopper resembles the
-English: she dotes on underdone meat seasoned with jelly. This perhaps
-is why, on catching the Cicada, she first rips up his paunch, which
-supplies a mixture of flesh and preserves.
-
-To eat Cicadae and sugar is not possible in every part of the country.
-In the north, where she abounds, the Green Grasshopper would not find
-the dish which attracts her so strongly here. She must have other
-resources. To convince myself of this, I give her Anoxiae (A. pilosa,
-Fab.), the summer equivalent of the spring Cockchafer. The Beetle is
-accepted without hesitation. Nothing is left of him but the wing-cases,
-head and legs. The result is the same with the magnificent plump Pine
-Cockchafer (Melolontha fullo, Lin.), a sumptuous morsel which I find
-next day eviscerated by my gang of knackers.
-
-These examples teach us enough. They tell us that the Grasshopper is an
-inveterate consumer of insects, especially of those which are not
-protected by too hard a cuirass; they are evidence of tastes which are
-highly carnivorous, but not exclusively so, like those of the Praying
-Mantis, who refuses everything except game. The butcher of the Cicadae
-is able to modify an excessively heating diet with vegetable fare.
-After meat and blood, sugary fruit-pulp; sometimes even, for lack of
-anything better, a little green stuff.
-
-Nevertheless, cannibalism is prevalent. True, I never witness in my
-Grasshopper-cages the savagery which is so common in the Praying
-Mantis, who harpoons her rivals and devours her lovers; but, if some
-weakling succumb, the survivors hardly ever fail to profit by his
-carcass as they would in the case of any ordinary prey. With no
-scarcity of provisions as an excuse, they feast upon their defunct
-companion. For the rest, all the sabre-bearing clan display, in varying
-degrees, a propensity for filling their bellies with their maimed
-comrades.
-
-In other respects, the Grasshoppers live together very peacefully in my
-cages. No serious strife ever takes place among them, nothing beyond a
-little rivalry in the matter of food. I hand in a piece of pear. A
-Grasshopper alights on it at once. Jealously she kicks away any one
-trying to bite at the delicious morsel. Selfishness reigns everywhere.
-When she has eaten her fill, she makes way for another, who in her turn
-becomes intolerant. One after the other, all the inmates of the
-menagerie come and refresh themselves. After cramming their crops, they
-scratch the soles of their feet a little with their mandibles, polish
-up their forehead and eyes with a leg moistened with spittle and then,
-hanging to the trellis-work or lying on the sand in a posture of
-contemplation, blissfully they digest and slumber most of the day,
-especially during the hottest part of it.
-
-It is in the evening, after sunset, that the troop becomes lively. By
-nine o'clock the animation is at its height. With sudden rushes they
-clamber to the top of the dome, to descend as hurriedly and climb up
-once more. They come and go tumultuously, run and hop around the
-circular track and, without stopping, nibble at the good things on the
-way.
-
-The males are stridulating by themselves, here and there, teasing the
-passing fair with their antennae. The future mothers stroll about
-gravely, with their sabre half-raised. The agitation and feverish
-excitement means that the great business of pairing is at hand. The
-fact will escape no practised eye.
-
-It is also what I particularly wish to observe. My wish is satisfied,
-but not fully, for the late hours at which events take place did not
-allow me to witness the final act of the wedding. It is late at night
-or early in the morning that things happen.
-
-The little that I see is confined to interminable preludes. Standing
-face to face, with foreheads almost touching, the lovers feel and sound
-each other for a long time with their limp antennae. They suggest two
-fencers crossing and recrossing harmless foils. From time to time, the
-male stridulates a little, gives a few short strokes of the bow and
-then falls silent, feeling perhaps too much overcome to continue.
-Eleven o'clock strikes; and the declaration is not yet over. Very
-regretfully, but conquered by sleepiness, I quit the couple.
-
-Next morning, early, the female carries, hanging at the bottom of her
-ovipositor, a queer bladder-like arrangement, an opaline capsule, the
-size of a large pea and roughly subdivided into a small number of
-egg-shaped vesicles. When the insect walks, the thing scrapes along the
-ground and becomes dirty with sticky grains of sand. The Grasshopper
-then makes a banquet off this fertilizing capsule, drains it slowly of
-its contents, and devours it bit by bit; for a long time she chews and
-rechews the gummy morsel and ends by swallowing it all down. In less
-than half a day, the milky burden has disappeared, consumed with zest
-down to the last atom.
-
-This inconceivable banquet must be imported, one would think, from
-another planet, so far removed is it from earthly habits. What a
-singular race are the Locustidae, one of the oldest in the animal
-kingdom on dry land and, like the Scolopendra and the Cephalopod,
-acting as a belated representative of the manners of antiquity!
-
-
-
-CHAPTER 3. THE EMPUSA.
-
-The sea, life's first foster-mother, still preserves in her depths many
-of those singular and incongruous shapes which were the earliest
-attempts of the animal kingdom; the land, less fruitful, but with more
-capacity for progress, has almost wholly lost the strange forms of
-other days. The few that remain belong especially to the series of
-primitive insects, insects exceedingly limited in their industrial
-powers and subject to very summary metamorphoses, if to any at all. In
-my district, in the front rank of those entomological anomalies which
-remind us of the denizens of the old coal-forests, stand the Mantidae,
-including the Praying Mantis, so curious in habits and structure. Here
-also is the Empusa (E. pauperata, Latr.), the subject of this chapter.
-
-Her larva is certainly the strangest creature among the terrestrial
-fauna of Provence: a slim, swaying thing of so fantastic an appearance
-that uninitiated fingers dare not lay hold of it. The children of my
-neighbourhood, impressed by its startling shape, call it "the
-Devilkin." In their imaginations, the queer little creature savours of
-witchcraft. One comes across it, though always sparsely, in spring, up
-to May; in autumn; and sometimes in winter, if the sun be strong. The
-tough grasses of the waste-lands, the stunted bushes which catch the
-sun and are sheltered from the wind by a few heaps of stones are the
-chilly Empusa's favourite abode.
-
-Let us give a rapid sketch of her. The abdomen, which always curls up
-so as to join the back, spreads paddle wise and twists into a crook.
-Pointed scales, a sort of foliaceous expansions arranged in three rows,
-cover the lower surface, which becomes the upper surface because of the
-crook aforesaid. The scaly crook is propped on four long, thin stilts,
-on four legs armed with knee-pieces, that is to say, carrying at the
-end of the thigh, where it joins the shin, a curved, projecting blade
-not unlike that of a cleaver.
-
-Above this base, this four-legged stool, rises, at a sudden angle, the
-stiff corselet, disproportionately long and almost perpendicular. The
-end of this bust, round and slender as a straw, carries the
-hunting-trap, the grappling limbs, copied from those of the Mantis.
-They consist of a terminal harpoon, sharper than a needle, and a cruel
-vice, with the jaws toothed like a saw. The jaw formed by the arm
-proper is hollowed into a groove and carries on either side five long
-spikes, with smaller indentations in between. The jaw formed by the
-forearm is similarly furrowed, but its double saw, which fits into the
-groove of the upper arm when at rest, is formed of finer, closer and
-more regular teeth. The magnifying-glass reveals a score of equal
-points in each row. The machine only lacks size to be a fearful
-implement of torture.
-
-The head is in keeping with this arsenal. What a queer-shaped head it
-is! A pointed face, with walrus moustaches furnished by the palpi;
-large goggle eyes; between them, a dirk, a halberd blade; and, on the
-forehead a mad, unheard of thing: a sort of tall mitre, an extravagant
-head-dress that juts forward, spreading right and left into peaked
-wings and cleft along the top. What does the Devilkin want with that
-monstrous pointed cap, than which no wise man of the East, no
-astrologer of old ever wore a more splendiferous? This we shall learn
-when we see her out hunting.
-
-The dress is commonplace; grey tints predominate. Towards the end of
-the larval period, after a few moultings, it begins to give a glimpse
-of the adult's richer livery and becomes striped, still very faintly,
-with pale-green, white and pink. Already the two sexes are
-distinguished by their antennae. Those of the future mothers are
-thread-like; those of the future males are distended into a spindle at
-the lower half, forming a case or sheath whence graceful plumes will
-spring at a later date.
-
-Behold the creature, worthy of a Callot's fantastic pencil. (Jacques
-Callot (1592-1635), the French engraver and painter, famed for the
-grotesque nature of his subjects.--Translator's Note.) If you come
-across it in the bramble-bushes, it sways upon its four stilts, it wags
-its head, it looks at you with a knowing air, it twists its mitre round
-and peers over its shoulder. You seem to read mischief in its pointed
-face. You try to take hold of it. The imposing attitude ceases
-forthwith, the raised corselet is lowered and the creature makes off
-with mighty strides, helping itself along with its fighting-limbs,
-which clutch the twigs. The flight need not last long, if you have a
-practised eye. The Empusa is captured, put into a screw of paper, which
-will save her frail limbs from sprains, and lastly penned in a
-wire-gauze cage. In this way, in October, I obtain a flock sufficient
-for my purpose.
-
-How to feed them? My Devilkins are very little; they are a month or two
-old at most. I give them Locusts suited to their size, the smallest
-that I can find. They refuse them. Nay more, they are frightened of
-them. Should a thoughtless Locust meekly approach one of the Empusae,
-suspended by her four hind-legs to the trellised dome, the intruder
-meets with a bad reception. The pointed mitre is lowered; and an angry
-thrust sends him rolling. We have it: the wizard's cap is a defensive
-weapon, a protective crest. The Ram charges with his forehead, the
-Empusa butts with her mitre.
-
-But this does not mean dinner. I serve up the House-fly, alive. She is
-accepted, without hesitation. The moment that the Fly comes within
-reach, the watchful Devilkin turns her head, bends the stalk of her
-corselet slantwise and, flinging out her fore-limb, harpoons the Fly
-and grips her between her two saws. No Cat pouncing upon a Mouse could
-be quicker.
-
-The game, however small, is enough for a meal. It is enough for the
-whole day, often for several days. This is my first surprise: the
-extreme abstemiousness of these fiercely-armed insects. I was prepared
-for ogres: I find ascetics satisfied with a meagre collation at rare
-intervals. A Fly fills their belly for twenty-four hours at least.
-
-Thus passes the late autumn: the Empusae, more and more temperate from
-day to day, hang motionless from the wire gauze. Their natural
-abstinence is my best ally, for Flies grow scarce; and a time comes
-when I should be hard put to it to keep the menageries supplied with
-provisions.
-
-During the three winter months, nothing stirs. From time to time, on
-fine days, I expose the cage to the sun's rays, in the window. Under
-the influence of this heat-bath, the captives stretch their legs a
-little, sway from side to side, make up their minds to move about, but
-without displaying any awakening appetite. The rare Midges that fall to
-my assiduous efforts do not appear to tempt them. It is a rule for them
-to spend the cold season in a state of complete abstinence.
-
-My cages tell me what must happen outside, during the winter. Ensconced
-in the crannies of the rockwork, in the sunniest places, the young
-Empusae wait, in a state of torpor, for the return of the hot weather.
-Notwithstanding the shelter of a heap of stones, there must be painful
-moments when the frost is prolonged and the snow penetrates little by
-little into the best-protected crevices. No matter: hardier than they
-look, the refugees escape the dangers of the winter season. Sometimes,
-when the sun is strong, they venture out of their hiding-place and come
-to see if spring be nigh.
-
-Spring comes. We are in March. My prisoners bestir themselves, change
-their skin. They need victuals. My catering difficulties recommence.
-The House-fly, so easy to catch, is lacking in these days. I fall back
-upon earlier Diptera: Eristales, or Drone-flies. The Empusa refuses
-them. They are too big for her and can offer too strenuous a
-resistance. She wards off their approach with blows of her mitre.
-
-A few tender morsels, in the shape of very young Grasshoppers, are
-readily accepted. Unfortunately, such windfalls do not often find their
-way into my sweeping-net. Abstinence becomes obligatory until the
-arrival of the first Butterflies. Henceforth, Pieris brassicae, the
-White Cabbage Butterfly, will contribute the greater portion of the
-victuals.
-
-Let loose in the wire cage, the Pieris is regarded as excellent game.
-The Empusa lies in wait for her, seizes her, but releases her at once,
-lacking the strength to overpower her. The Butterfly's great wings,
-beating the air, give her shock after shock and compel her to let go. I
-come to the weakling's assistance and cut the wings of her prey with my
-scissors. The maimed ones, still full of life, clamber up the
-trellis-work and are forthwith grabbed by the Empusae, who, in no way
-frightened by their protests, crunch them up. The dish is to their
-taste and, moreover, plentiful, so much so that there are always some
-despised remnants.
-
-The head only and the upper portion of the breast are devoured: the
-rest--the plump abdomen, the best part of the thorax, the legs and
-lastly, of course, the wing-stumps--is flung aside untouched. Does this
-mean that the tenderest and most succulent morsels are chosen? No, for
-the belly is certainly more juicy; and the Empusa refuses it, though
-she eats up her House-fly to the last particle. It is a strategy of
-war. I am again in the presence of a neck-specialist as expert as the
-Mantis herself in the art of swiftly slaying a victim that struggles
-and, in struggling, spoils the meal.
-
-Once warned, I soon perceive that the game, be it Fly, Locust,
-Grasshopper, or Butterfly, is always struck in the neck, from behind.
-The first bite is aimed at the point containing the cervical ganglia
-and produces sudden death or immobility. Complete inertia will leave
-the consumer in peace, the essential condition of every satisfactory
-repast.
-
-The Devilkin, therefore, frail though she be, possesses the secret of
-immediately destroying the resistance of her prey. She bites at the
-back of the neck first, in order to give the finishing stroke. She goes
-on nibbling around the original attacking-point. In this way the
-Butterfly's head and the upper part of the breast are disposed of. But,
-by that time, the huntress is surfeited: she wants so little! The rest
-lies on the ground, disdained, not for lack of flavour, but because
-there is too much of it. A Cabbage Butterfly far exceeds the capacity
-of the Empusa's stomach. The Ants will benefit by what is left.
-
-There is one other matter to be mentioned, before observing the
-metamorphosis. The position adopted by the young Empusae in the
-wire-gauze cage is invariably the same from start to finish. Gripping
-the trellis-work by the claws of its four hind-legs, the insect
-occupies the top of the dome and hangs motionless, back downwards, with
-the whole of its body supported by the four suspension-points. If it
-wishes to move, the front harpoons open, stretch out, grasp a mesh and
-draw it to them. When the short walk is over, the lethal arms are
-brought back against the chest. One may say that it is nearly always
-the four hind-shanks which alone support the suspended insect.
-
-And this reversed position, which seems to us so trying, lasts for no
-short while: it is prolonged, in my cages, for ten months without a
-break. The Fly on the ceiling, it is true, occupies the same attitude;
-but she has her moments of rest: she flies, she walks in a normal
-posture, she spreads herself flat in the sun. Besides, her acrobatic
-feats do not cover a long period. The Empusa, on the other hand,
-maintains her curious equilibrium for ten months on end, without a
-break. Hanging from the trellis-work, back downwards, she hunts, eats,
-digests, dozes, casts her skin, undergoes her transformation, mates,
-lays her eggs and dies. She clambered up there when she was still quite
-young; she falls down, full of days, a corpse.
-
-Things do not happen exactly like this under natural conditions. The
-insect stands on the bushes back upwards; it keeps its balance in the
-regular attitude and turns over only in circumstances that occur at
-long intervals. The protracted suspension of my captives is all the
-more remarkable inasmuch as it is not at all an innate habit of their
-race.
-
-It reminds one of the Bats, who hang, head downwards, by their
-hind-legs from the roof of their caves. A special formation of the toes
-enables birds to sleep on one leg, which automatically and without
-fatigue clutches the swaying bough. The Empusa shows me nothing akin to
-their contrivance. The extremity of her walking-legs has the ordinary
-structure: a double claw at the tip, a double steelyard-hook; and that
-is all.
-
-I could wish that anatomy would show me the working of the muscles and
-nerves in those tarsi, in those legs more slender than threads, the
-action of the tendons that control the claws and keep them gripped for
-ten months, unwearied in waking and sleeping. If some dexterous scalpel
-should ever investigate this problem, I can recommend another, even
-more singular than that of the Empusa, the Bat and the bird. I refer to
-the attitude of certain Wasps and Bees during the night's rest.
-
-An Ammophila with red fore-legs (A. holosericea) is plentiful in my
-enclosure towards the end of August and selects a certain
-lavender-border for her dormitory. At dusk, especially after a stifling
-day, when a storm is brewing, I am sure to find the strange sleeper
-settled there. Never was more eccentric attitude adopted for a night's
-rest! The mandibles bite right into the lavender-stem. Its square shape
-supplies a firmer hold than a round stalk would do. With this one and
-only prop, the animal's body juts out stiffly, at full length, with
-legs folded. It forms a right angle with the supporting axis, so much
-so that the whole weight of the insect, which has turned itself into
-the arm of a lever rests upon the mandibles.
-
-The Ammophila sleeps extended in space by virtue of her mighty jaws. It
-takes an animal to think of a thing like that, which upsets all our
-preconceived ideas of repose. Should the threatening storm burst,
-should the stalk sway in the wind, the sleeper is not troubled by her
-swinging hammock; at most, she presses her fore-legs for a moment
-against the tossed mast. As soon as equilibrium is restored, the
-favourite posture, that of the horizontal lever, is resumed, perhaps
-the mandibles, like the bird's toes, possess the faculty of gripping
-tighter in proportion to the rocking of the wind.
-
-The Ammophila is not the only one to sleep in this singular position,
-which is copied by many others--Anthidia (Cotton-bees.--Translator's
-Note.), Odyneri (A genus of Mason-wasps.--Translator's Note.), Eucerae
-(A species of Burrowing-bees.--Translator's Note.)--and mainly by the
-males. All grip a stalk with their mandibles and sleep with their
-bodies outstretched and their legs folded back. Some, the stouter
-species, allow themselves to rest the tip of their arched abdomen
-against the pole.
-
-This visit to the dormitory of certain Wasps and Bees does not explain
-the problem of the Empusa; it sets up another one, no less difficult.
-It shows us how deficient we are in insight, when it comes to
-differentiating between fatigue and rest in the cogs of the animal
-machine. The Ammophila, with the static paradox afforded by her
-mandibles; the Empusa, with her claws unwearied by ten months' hanging,
-leave the physiologist perplexed and make him wonder what really
-constitutes rest. In absolute fact, there is no rest, apart from that
-which puts an end to life. The struggle never ceases; some muscle is
-always toiling, some nerve straining. Sleep, which resembles a return
-to the peace of non-existence, is, like waking, an effort, here of the
-leg, of the curled tail; there of the claw, of the jaws.
-
-The transformation is effected about the middle of May, and the adult
-Empusa makes her appearance. She is even more remarkable in figure and
-attire than the Praying Mantis. Of her youthful eccentricities, she
-retains the pointed mitre, the saw-like arm-guards, the long bust, the
-knee-pieces, the three rows of scales on the lower surface of the
-belly; but the abdomen is now no longer twisted into a crook and the
-animal is comelier to look upon. Large pale-green wings, pink at the
-shoulder and swift in flight in both sexes, cover the belly, which is
-striped white and green underneath. The male, the dandy sex, adorns
-himself with plumed antennae, like those of certain Moths, the Bombyx
-tribe. In respect of size, he is almost the equal of his mate.
-
-Save for a few slight structural details, the Empusa is the Praying
-Mantis. The peasant confuses them. When, in spring, he meets the mitred
-insect, he thinks he sees the common Prego-Dieu, who is a daughter of
-the autumn. Similar forms would seem to indicate similarity of habits.
-In fact, led away by the extraordinary armour, we should be tempted to
-attribute to the Empusa a mode of life even more atrocious than that of
-the Mantis. I myself thought so at first; and any one, relying upon
-false analogies, would think the same. It is a fresh error: for all her
-warlike aspect, the Empusa is a peaceful creature that hardly repays
-the trouble of rearing.
-
-Installed under the gauze bell, whether in assemblies of half a dozen
-or in separate couples, she at no time loses her placidity. Like the
-larva, she is very abstemious and contents herself with a Fly or two as
-her daily ration.
-
-Big eaters are naturally quarrelsome. The Mantis, bloated with Locusts,
-soon becomes irritated and shows fight. The Empusa, with her frugal
-meals, does not indulge in hostile demonstrations. There is no strife
-among neighbours nor any of those sudden unfurlings of the wings so
-dear to the Mantis when she assumes the spectral attitude and puffs
-like a startled Adder; never the least inclination for those cannibal
-banquets whereat the sister who has been worsted in the fight is
-devoured. Such atrocities or here unknown.
-
-Unknown also are tragic nuptials. The male is enterprising and
-assiduous and is subjected to a long trial before succeeding. For days
-and days he worries his mate, who ends by yielding. Due decorum is
-preserved after the wedding. The feathered groom retires, respected by
-his bride, and does his little bit of hunting, without danger of being
-apprehended and gobbled up.
-
-The two sexes live together in peace and mutual indifference until the
-middle of July. Then the male, grown old and decrepit, takes counsel
-with himself, hunts no more, becomes shaky in his walk, creeps down
-from the lofty heights of the trellised dome and at last collapses on
-the ground. His end comes by a natural death. And remember that the
-other, the male of the Praying Mantis, ends in the stomach of his
-gluttonous spouse.
-
-The laying follows close upon the disappearance of the males.
-
-One word more on comparative manners. The Mantis goes in for battle and
-cannibalism; the Empusa is peaceable and respects her kind. To what
-cause are these profound moral differences due, when the organic
-structure is the same? Perhaps to the difference of diet. Frugality, in
-fact, softens character, in animals as in men; gross feeding brutalizes
-it. The gormandizer gorged with meat and strong drink, a fruitful
-source of savage outbursts, could not possess the gentleness of the
-ascetic who dips his bread into a cup of milk. The Mantis is that
-gormandizer, the Empusa that ascetic.
-
-Granted. But whence does the one derive her voracious appetite, the
-other her temperate ways, when it would seem as though their almost
-identical structure ought to produce an identity of needs? These
-insects tell us, in their fashion, what many have already told us: that
-propensities and aptitudes do not depend exclusively upon anatomy; high
-above the physical laws that govern matter rise other laws that govern
-instincts.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER 4. THE CAPRICORN.
-
-My youthful meditations owe some happy moments to Condillac's famous
-statue which, when endowed with the sense of smell, inhales the scent
-of a rose and out of that single impression creates a whole world of
-ideas. (Etienne Bonnot de Condillac, Abbe de Mureaux (1715-80), the
-leading exponent of sensational philosophy. His most important work is
-the "Traite des sensations," in which he imagines a statue, organized
-like a man, and endows it with the senses one by one, beginning with
-that of smell. He argues by a process of imaginative reconstruction
-that all human faculties and all human knowledge are merely transformed
-sensation, to the exclusion of any other principle, that, in short,
-everything has its source in sensation: man is nothing but what he has
-acquired.--Translator's Note.) My twenty-year-old mind, full of faith
-in syllogisms, loved to follow the deductive jugglery of the
-abbe-philosopher: I saw, or seemed to see, the statue take life in that
-action of the nostrils, acquiring attention, memory, judgment and all
-the psychological paraphernalia, even as still waters are aroused and
-rippled by the impact of a grain of sand. I recovered from my illusion
-under the instruction of my abler master, the animal. The Capricorn
-shall teach us that the problem is more obscure than the abbe led me to
-believe.
-
-When wedge and mallet are at work, preparing my provision of firewood
-under the grey sky that heralds winter, a favourite relaxation creates
-a welcome break in my daily output of prose. By my express orders, the
-woodman has selected the oldest and most ravaged trunks in his stack.
-My tastes bring a smile to his lips; he wonders by what whimsy I prefer
-wood that is worm-eaten--chirouna, as he calls it--to sound wood which
-burns so much better. I have my views on the subject; and the worthy
-man submits to them.
-
-And now to us two, O my fine oak-trunk seamed with scars, gashed with
-wounds whence trickle the brown drops smelling of the tan-yard. The
-mallet drives home, the wedges bite, the wood splits. What do your
-flanks contain? Real treasures for my studies. In the dry and hollow
-parts, groups of various insects, capable of living through the bad
-season of the year, have taken up their winter quarters: in the
-low-roofed galleries, galleries which some Buprestis-beetle has built,
-Osmia-bees, working their paste of masticated leaves, have piled their
-cells, one above the other; in the deserted chambers and vestibules,
-Megachiles (Leaf-cutting Bees.--Translator's Note.) have arranged their
-leafy jars; in the live wood, filled with juicy saps, the larvae of the
-Capricorn (Cerambyx miles), the chief author of the oak's undoing, have
-set up their home.
-
-Strange creatures, of a verity, are these grubs, for an insect of
-superior organization: bits of intestines crawling about! At this time
-of year, the middle of autumn, I meet them of two different ages. The
-older are almost as thick as one's finger; the others hardly attain the
-diameter of a pencil. I find, in addition, pupae more or less fully
-, perfect insects, with a distended abdomen, ready to leave the
-trunk when the hot weather comes again. Life inside the wood,
-therefore, lasts three years. How is this long period of solitude and
-captivity spent? In wandering lazily through the thickness of the oak,
-in making roads whose rubbish serves as food. The horse in Job swallows
-the ground in a figure of speech; the Capricorn's grub literally eats
-its way. ("Chafing and raging, he swalloweth the ground, neither doth
-he make account when the noise of the trumpet soundeth."--Job 39, 23
-(Douai version).--Translator's Note.) With its carpenter's gouge, a
-strong black mandible, short, devoid of notches, scooped into a
-sharp-edged spoon, it digs the opening of its tunnel. The piece cut out
-is a mouthful which, as it enters the stomach, yields its scanty juices
-and accumulates behind the worker in heaps of wormed wood. The refuse
-leaves room in front by passing through the worker. A labour at once of
-nutrition and of road-making, the path is devoured while constructed;
-it is blocked behind as it makes way ahead. That, however, is how all
-the borers who look to wood for victuals and lodging set about their
-business.
-
-For the harsh work of its two gouges, or curved chisels, the larva of
-the Capricorn concentrates its muscular strength in the front of its
-body, which swells into a pestle-head. The Buprestis-grubs, those other
-industrious carpenters, adopt a similar form; they even exaggerate
-their pestle. The part that toils and carves hard wood requires a
-robust structure; the rest of the body, which has but to follow after,
-continues slim. The essential thing is that the implement of the jaws
-should possess a solid support and a powerful motor. The Cerambyx-larva
-strengthens its chisels with a stout, black, horny armour that
-surrounds the mouth; yet, apart from its skull and its equipment of
-tools, the grub has a skin as fine as satin and white as ivory. This
-dead white comes from a copious layer of grease which the animal's
-spare diet would not lead us to suspect. True, it has nothing to do, at
-every hour of the day and night, but gnaw. The quantity of wood that
-passes into its stomach makes up for the dearth of nourishing elements.
-
-The legs, consisting of three pieces, the first globular, the last
-sharp-pointed, are mere rudiments, vestiges. They are hardly a
-millimetre long. (.039 inch.--Translator's Note.) For this reason they
-are of no use whatever for walking; they do not even bear upon the
-supporting surface, being kept off it by the obesity of the chest. The
-organs of locomotion are something altogether different. The grub of
-the Capricorn moves at the same time on its back and belly; instead of
-the useless legs of the thorax, it has a walking-apparatus almost
-resembling feet, which appear, contrary to every rule, on the dorsal
-surface.
-
-The first seven segments of the abdomen have, both above and below, a
-four-sided facet, bristling with rough protuberances. This the grub can
-either expand or contract, making it stick out or lie flat at will. The
-upper facets consist of two excrescences separated by the mid-dorsal
-line; the lower ones have not this divided appearance. These are the
-organs of locomotion, the ambulacra. When the larva wishes to move
-forwards, it expands its hinder ambulacra, those on the back as well as
-those on the belly, and contracts its front ones. Fixed to the side of
-the narrow gallery by their ridges, the hind-pads give the grub a
-purchase. The flattening of the fore-pads, by decreasing the diameter,
-allows it to slip forward and to take half a step. To complete the step
-the hind-quarters have to be brought up the same distance. With this
-object, the front pads fill out and provide support, while those behind
-shrink and leave free scope for their segments to contract.
-
-With the double support of its back and belly, with alternate puffings
-and shrinkings, the animal easily advances or retreats along its
-gallery, a sort of mould which the contents fill without a gap. But if
-the locomotory pads grip only on one side progress becomes impossible.
-When placed on the smooth wood of my table, the animal wriggles slowly;
-it lengthens and shortens without advancing by a hair's-breadth. Laid
-on the surface of a piece of split oak, a rough, uneven surface, due to
-the gash made by the wedge, it twists and writhes, moves the front part
-of its body very slowly from left to right and right to left, lifts it
-a little, lowers it and begins again. These are the most extensive
-movements made. The vestigial legs remain inert and absolutely useless.
-Then why are they there? It were better to lose them altogether, if it
-be true that crawling inside the oak has deprived the animal of the
-good legs with which it started. The influence of environment, so
-well-inspired in endowing the grub with ambulatory pads, becomes a
-mockery when it leaves it these ridiculous stumps. Can the structure,
-perchance, be obeying other rules than those of environment?
-
-Though the useless legs, the germs of the future limbs, persist, there
-is no sign in the grub of the eyes wherewith the Cerambyx will be
-richly gifted. The larva has not the least trace of organs of vision.
-What would it do with sight in the murky thickness of a tree-trunk?
-Hearing is likewise absent. In the never-troubled silence of the oak's
-inmost heart, the sense of hearing would be a non-sense. Where sounds
-are lacking, of what use is the faculty of discerning them? Should
-there be any doubts, I will reply to them with the following
-experiment. Split lengthwise, the grub's abode leaves a half-tunnel
-wherein I can watch the occupant's doings. When left alone, it now
-gnaws the front of its gallery, now rests, fixed by its ambulacra to
-the two sides of the channel. I avail myself of these moments of quiet
-to inquire into its power of perceiving sounds. The banging of hard
-bodies, the ring of metallic objects, the grating of a file upon a saw
-are tried in vain. The animal remains impassive. Not a wince, not a
-movement of the skin; no sign of awakened attention. I succeed no
-better when I scratch the wood close by with a hard point, to imitate
-the sound of some neighbouring larva gnawing the intervening thickness.
-The indifference to my noisy tricks could be no greater in a lifeless
-object. The animal is deaf.
-
-Can it smell? Everything tells us no. Scent is of assistance in the
-search for food. But the Capricorn grub need not go in quest of
-eatables: it feeds on its home, it lives on the wood that gives it
-shelter. Let us make an attempt or two, however. I scoop in a log of
-fresh cypress-wood a groove of the same diameter as that of the natural
-galleries and I place the worm inside it. Cypress-wood is strongly
-scented; it possesses in a high degree that resinous aroma which
-characterizes most of the pine family. Well, when laid in the
-odoriferous channel, the larva goes to the end, as far as it can go,
-and makes no further movement. Does not this placid quiescence point to
-the absence of a sense of smell? The resinous flavour, so strange to
-the grub which has always lived in oak, ought to vex it, to trouble it;
-and the disagreeable impression ought to be revealed by a certain
-commotion, by certain attempts to get away. Well, nothing of the kind
-happens: once the larva has found the right position in the groove, it
-does not stir. I do more: I set before it, at a very short distance, in
-its normal canal, a piece of camphor. Again, no effect. Camphor is
-followed by naphthaline. Still nothing. After these fruitless
-endeavours, I do not think that I am going too far when I deny the
-creature a sense of smell.
-
-Taste is there, no doubt. But such taste! The food is without variety:
-oak, for three years at a stretch, and nothing else. What can the
-grub's palate appreciate in this monotonous fare? The tannic relish of
-a fresh piece, oozing with sap, the uninteresting flavour of an
-over-dry piece, robbed of its natural condiment: these probably
-represent the whole gustative scale.
-
-There remains touch, the far-spreading, passive sense common to all
-live flesh that quivers under the goad of pain. The sensitive schedule
-of the Cerambyx-grub, therefore, is limited to taste and touch, both
-exceedingly obtuse. This almost brings us to Condillac's statue. The
-imaginary being of the philosopher had one sense only, that of smell,
-equal in delicacy to our own; the real being, the ravager of the oak,
-has two, inferior, even when put together, to the former, which so
-plainly perceived the scent of a rose and distinguished it so clearly
-from any other. The real case will bear comparison with the fictitious.
-
-What can be the psychology of a creature possessing such a powerful
-digestive organism combined with such a feeble set of senses? A vain
-wish has often come to me in my dreams; it is to be able to think, for
-a few minutes, with the crude brain of my Dog, to see the world with
-the faceted eyes of a Gnat. How things would change in appearance! They
-would change much more if interpreted by the intellect of the grub.
-What have the lessons of touch and taste contributed to that
-rudimentary receptacle of impressions? Very little; almost nothing. The
-animal knows that the best bits possess an astringent flavour; that the
-sides of a passage not carefully planed are painful to the skin. This
-is the utmost limit of its acquired wisdom. In comparison, the statue
-with the sensitive nostrils was a marvel of knowledge, a paragon too
-generously endowed by its inventor. It remembered, compared, judged,
-reasoned: does the drowsily digesting paunch remember? Does it compare?
-Does it reason? I defined the Capricorn-grub as a bit of an intestine
-that crawls about. The undeniable accuracy of this definition provides
-me with my answer: the grub has the aggregate of sense-impressions that
-a bit of an intestine may hope to have.
-
-And this nothing-at-all is capable of marvellous acts of foresight;
-this belly, which knows hardly aught of the present, sees very clearly
-into the future. Let us take an illustration on this curious subject.
-For three years on end the larva wanders about in the thick of the
-trunk; it goes up, goes down, turns to this side and that; it leaves
-one vein for another of better flavour, but without moving too far from
-the inner depths, where the temperature is milder and greater safety
-reigns. A day is at hand, a dangerous day for the recluse obliged to
-quit its excellent retreat and face the perils of the surface. Eating
-is not everything: we have to get out of this. The larva, so
-well-equipped with tools and muscular strength, finds no difficulty in
-going where it pleases, by boring through the wood; but does the coming
-Capricorn, whose short spell of life must be spent in the open air,
-possess the same advantages? Hatched inside the trunk, will the
-long-horned insect be able to clear itself a way of escape?
-
-That is the difficulty which the worm solves by inspiration. Less
-versed in things of the future, despite my gleams of reason, I resort
-to experiment with a view to fathoming the question. I begin by
-ascertaining that the Capricorn, when he wishes to leave the trunk, is
-absolutely unable to make use of the tunnel wrought by the larva. It is
-a very long and very irregular maze, blocked with great heaps of wormed
-wood. Its diameter decreases progressively from the final blind alley
-to the starting-point. The larva entered the timber as slim as a tiny
-bit of straw; it is to-day as thick as my finger. In its three years'
-wanderings it always dug its gallery according to the mould of its
-body. Evidently, the road by which the larva entered and moved about
-cannot be the Capricorn's exit-way: his immoderate antennae, his long
-legs, his inflexible armour-plates would encounter an insuperable
-obstacle in the narrow, winding corridor, which would have to be
-cleared of its wormed wood and, moreover, greatly enlarged. It would be
-less fatiguing to attack the untouched timber and dig straight ahead.
-Is the insect capable of doing so? We shall see.
-
-I make some chambers of suitable size in oak logs chopped in two; and
-each of my artificial cells receives a newly transformed Cerambyx, such
-as my provisions of firewood supply, when split by the wedge, in
-October. The two pieces are then joined and kept together with a few
-bands of wire. June comes. I hear a scraping inside my billets. Will
-the Capricorns come out, or not? The delivery does not seem difficult
-to me: there is hardly three-quarters of an inch to pierce. Not one
-emerges. When all is silence, I open my apparatus. The captives, from
-first to last, are dead. A vestige of sawdust, less than a pinch of
-snuff, represents all their work.
-
-I expected more from those sturdy tools, their mandibles. But, as I
-have said elsewhere, the tool does not make the workman. In spite of
-their boring-implements, the hermits die in my cases for lack of skill.
-I subject others to less arduous tests. I enclose them in spacious
-reed-stumps, equal in diameter to the natal cell. The obstacle to be
-pierced is the natural diaphragm, a yielding partition two or three
-millimetres thick. (.078 to .117 inch.--Translator's Note.) Some free
-themselves; others cannot. The less vibrant ones succumb, stopped by
-the frail barrier. What would it be if they had to pass through a
-thickness of oak?
-
-We are now persuaded: despite his stalwart appearance, the Capricorn is
-powerless to leave the tree-trunk by his unaided efforts. It therefore
-falls to the worm, to the wisdom of that bit of an intestine, to
-prepare the way for him. We see renewed, in another form, the feats of
-prowess of the Anthrax, whose pupa, armed with trepans, bores through
-rock on the feeble Fly's behalf. Urged by a presentiment that to us
-remains an unfathomable mystery, the Cerambyx-grub leaves the inside of
-the oak, its peaceful retreat, its unassailable stronghold, to wriggle
-towards the outside, where lives the foe, the Woodpecker, who may
-gobble up the succulent little sausage. At the risk of its life, it
-stubbornly digs and gnaws to the very bark, of which it leaves no more
-intact than the thinnest film, a slender screen. Sometimes, even, the
-rash one opens the window wide.
-
-This is the Capricorn's exit-hole. The insect will have but to file the
-screen a little with its mandibles, to bump against it with its
-forehead, in order to bring it down; it will even have nothing to do
-when the window is free, as often happens. The unskilled carpenter,
-burdened with his extravagant head-dress, will emerge from the darkness
-through this opening when the summer heats arrive.
-
-After the cares of the future come the cares of the present. The larva,
-which has just opened the aperture of escape, retreats some distance
-down its gallery and, in the side of the exit-way, digs itself a
-transformation-chamber more sumptuously furnished and barricaded than
-any that I have ever seen. It is a roomy niche, shaped like a flattened
-ellipsoid, the length of which reaches eighty to a hundred millimetres.
-(3 to 4 inches.--Translator's Note.) The two axes of the cross-section
-vary: the horizontal measures twenty-five to thirty millimetres (.975
-to 1.17 inch.--Translator's Note.); the vertical measures only fifteen.
-(.585 inch.--Translator's Note.) This greater dimension of the cell,
-where the thickness of the perfect insect is concerned, leaves a
-certain scope for the action of its legs when the time comes for
-forcing the barricade, which is more than a close-fitting mummy-case
-would do.
-
-The barricade in question, a door which the larva builds to exclude the
-dangers from without, is two-and even three-fold. Outside, it is a
-stack of woody refuse, of particles of chopped timber; inside, a
-mineral hatch, a concave cover, all in one piece, of a chalky white.
-Pretty often, but not always, there is added to these two layers an
-inner casing of shavings. Behind this compound door, the larva makes
-its arrangements for the metamorphosis. The sides of the chamber are
-rasped, thus providing a sort of down formed of ravelled woody fibres,
-broken into minute shreds. The velvety matter, as and when obtained, is
-applied to the wall in a continuous felt at least a millimetre thick.
-(.039 inch.--Translator's Note.) The chamber is thus padded throughout
-with a fine swan's-down, a delicate precaution taken by the rough worm
-on behalf of the tender pupa.
-
-Let us hark back to the most curious part of the furnishing, the
-mineral hatch or inner door of the entrance. It is an elliptical
-skull-cap, white and hard as chalk, smooth within and knotted without,
-resembling more or less closely an acorn-cup. The knots show that the
-matter is supplied in small, pasty mouthfuls, solidifying outside in
-slight projections which the insect does not remove, being unable to
-get at them, and polished on the inside surface, which is within the
-worm's reach. What can be the nature of that singular lid whereof the
-Cerambyx furnishes me with the first specimen? It is as hard and
-brittle as a flake of lime-stone. It can be dissolved cold in nitric
-acid, discharging little gaseous bubbles. The process of solution is a
-slow one, requiring several hours for a tiny fragment. Everything is
-dissolved, except a few yellowish flocks, which appear to be of an
-organic nature. As a matter of fact, a piece of the hatch, when
-subjected to heat, blackens, proving the presence of an organic glue
-cementing the mineral matter. The solution becomes muddy if oxalate of
-ammonia be added; it then deposits a copious white precipitate. These
-signs indicate calcium carbonate. I look for urate of ammonia, that
-constantly recurring product of the various stages of the
-metamorphoses. It is not there: I find not the least trace of murexide.
-The lid, therefore, is composed solely of carbonate of lime and of an
-organic cement, no doubt of an albuminous character, which gives
-consistency to the chalky paste.
-
-Had circumstances served me better, I should have tried to discover in
-which of the worm's organs the stony deposit dwells. I am however,
-convinced: it is the stomach, the chylific ventricle, that supplies the
-chalk. It keeps it separated from the food, either as original matter
-or as a derivative of the ammonium urate; it purges it of all foreign
-bodies, when the larval period comes to an end, and holds it in reserve
-until the time comes to disgorge it. This freestone factory causes me
-no astonishment: when the manufacturer undergoes his change, it serves
-for various chemical works. Certain Oil-beetles, such as the Sitaris,
-locate in it the urate of ammonia, the refuse of the transformed
-organism; the Sphex, the Pelopaei, the Scoliae use it to manufacture
-the shellac wherewith the silk of the cocoon is varnished. Further
-investigations will only swell the aggregate of the products of this
-obliging organ.
-
-When the exit-way is prepared and the cell upholstered in velvet and
-closed with a threefold barricade, the industrious worm has concluded
-its task. It lays aside its tools, sheds its skin and becomes a nymph,
-a pupa, weakness personified, in swaddling-clothes, on a soft couch.
-The head is always turned towards the door. This is a trifling detail
-in appearance; but it is everything in reality. To lie this way or that
-in the long cell is a matter of great indifference to the grub, which
-is very supple, turning easily in its narrow lodging and adopting
-whatever position it pleases. The coming Capricorn will not enjoy the
-same privileges. Stiffly girt in his horn cuirass, he will not be able
-to turn from end to end; he will not even be capable of bending, if
-some sudden wind should make the passage difficult. He must absolutely
-find the door in front of him, lest he perish in the casket. Should the
-grub forget this little formality, should it lie down to its nymphal
-sleep with its head at the back of the cell, the Capricorn is
-infallibly lost: his cradle becomes a hopeless dungeon.
-
-But there is no fear of this danger: the knowledge of our bit of an
-intestine is too sound in things of the future for the grub to neglect
-the formality of keeping its head to the door. At the end of spring,
-the Capricorn, now in possession of his full strength, dreams of the
-joys of the sun, of the festivals of light. He wants to get out. What
-does he find before him? A heap of filings easily dispersed with his
-claws; next, a stone lid which he need not even break into fragments:
-it comes undone in one piece; it is removed from its frame with a few
-pushes of the forehead, a few tugs of the claws. In fact, I find the
-lid intact on the threshold of the abandoned cells. Last comes a second
-mass of woody remnants, as easy to disperse as the first. The road is
-now free: the Cerambyx has but to follow the spacious vestibule, which
-will lead him, without the possibility of mistake, to the exit. Should
-the window not be open, all that he has to do is to gnaw through a thin
-screen: an easy task; and behold him outside, his long antennae aquiver
-with excitement.
-
-What have we learnt from him? Nothing, from him; much from his grub.
-This grub, so poor in sensory organs, gives us no little food for
-reflection with its prescience. It knows that the coming Beetle will
-not be able to cut himself a road through the oak and it bethinks
-itself of opening one for him at its own risk and peril. It knows that
-the Cerambyx, in his stiff armour, will never be able to turn and make
-for the orifice of the cell; and it takes care to fall into its nymphal
-sleep with its head to the door. It knows how soft the pupa's flesh
-will be and upholsters the bedroom with velvet. It knows that the enemy
-is likely to break in during the slow work of the transformation and,
-to set a bulwark against his attacks, it stores a calcium pap inside
-its stomach. It knows the future with a clear vision, or, to be
-accurate, behaves as though it knew it. Whence did it derive the
-motives of its actions? Certainly not from the experience of the
-senses. What does it know of the outside world? Let us repeat, as much
-as a bit of an intestine can know. And this senseless creature fills us
-with amazement! I regret that the clever logician, instead of
-conceiving a statue smelling a rose, did not imagine it gifted with
-some instinct. How quickly he would have recognized that, quite apart
-from sense-impressions, the animal, including man, possesses certain
-psychological resources, certain inspirations that are innate and not
-acquired!
-
-
-
-CHAPTER 5. THE BURYING-BEETLES: THE BURIAL.
-
-Beside the footpath in April lies the Mole, disembowelled by the
-peasant's spade; at the foot of the hedge the pitiless urchin has
-stoned to death the Lizard, who was about to don his green,
-pearl-embellished costume. The passer-by has thought it a meritorious
-deed to crush beneath his heel the chance-met Adder; and a gust of wind
-has thrown a tiny unfeathered bird from its nest. What will become of
-these little bodies and of so many other pitiful remnants of life? They
-will not long offend our sense of sight and smell. The sanitary
-officers of the fields are legion.
-
-An eager freebooter, ready for any task, the Ant is the first to come
-hastening and begin, particle by particle, to dissect the corpse. Soon
-the odour of the corpse attracts the Fly, the genitrix of the odious
-maggot. At the same time, the flattened Silpha, the glistening,
-slow-trotting Horn-beetle, the Dermestes, powdered with snow upon the
-abdomen, and the slender Staphylinus, all, whence coming no one knows,
-hurry hither in squads, with never-wearied zeal, investigating, probing
-and draining the infection.
-
-What a spectacle, in the spring, beneath a dead Mole! The horror of
-this laboratory is a beautiful sight for one who is able to observe and
-to meditate. Let us overcome our disgust; let us turn over the unclean
-refuse with our foot. What a swarming there is beneath it, what a
-tumult of busy workers! The Silphae, with wing-cases wide and dark, as
-though in mourning, fly distraught, hiding in the cracks in the soil;
-the Saprini, of polished ebony which mirrors the sunlight, jog hastily
-off, deserting their workshop; the Dermestes, of whom one wears a
-fawn- tippet, spotted with white, seek to fly away, but, tipsy
-with their putrid nectar, tumble over and reveal the immaculate
-whiteness of their bellies, which forms a violent contrast with the
-gloom of the rest of their attire.
-
-What were they doing there, all these feverish workers? They were
-making a clearance of death on behalf of life. Transcendent alchemists,
-they were transforming that horrible putridity into a living and
-inoffensive product. They were draining the dangerous corpse to the
-point of rendering it as dry and sonorous as the remains of an old
-slipper hardened on the refuse-heap by the frosts of winter and the
-heats of summer. They were working their hardest to render the carrion
-innocuous.
-
-Others will soon put in their appearance, smaller creatures and more
-patient, who will take over the relic and exploit it ligament by
-ligament, bone by bone, hair by hair, until the whole has been resumed
-by the treasury of life. All honour to these purifiers! Let us put back
-the Mole and go our way.
-
-Some other victim of the agricultural labours of spring--a Shrew-mouse,
-Field-mouse, Mole, Frog, Adder, or Lizard--will provide us with the
-most vigorous and famous of these expurgators of the soil. This is the
-Burying-beetle, the Necrophorus, so different from the cadaveric mob in
-dress and habits. In honour of his exalted functions he exhales an
-odour of musk; he bears a red tuft at the tip of his antennae; his
-breast is covered with nankeen; and across his wing-cases he wears a
-double, scalloped scarf of vermilion. An elegant, almost sumptuous
-costume, very superior to that of the others, but yet lugubrious, as
-befits your undertaker's man.
-
-He is no anatomical dissector, cutting his subject open, carving its
-flesh with the scalpel of his mandibles; he is literally a gravedigger,
-a sexton. While the others--Silphae, Dermestes, Horn-beetles--gorge
-themselves with the exploited flesh, without, of course, forgetting the
-interests of the family, he, a frugal eater, hardly touches his booty
-on his own account. He buries it entire, on the spot, in a cellar where
-the thing, duly ripened, will form the diet of his larvae. He buries it
-in order to establish his progeny therein.
-
-This hoarder of dead bodies, with his stiff and almost heavy movements,
-is astonishingly quick at storing away wreckage. In a shift of a few
-hours, a comparatively enormous animal--a Mole, for
-example--disappears, engulfed by the earth. The others leave the dried,
-emptied carcass to the air, the sport of the winds for months on end;
-he, treating it as a whole, makes a clean job of things at once. No
-visible trace of his work remains but a tiny hillock, a burial-mound, a
-tumulus.
-
-With his expeditious method, the Necrophorus is the first of the little
-purifiers of the fields. He is also one of the most celebrated of
-insects in respect of his psychical capacities. This undertaker is
-endowed, they say, with intellectual faculties approaching to reason,
-such as are not possessed by the most gifted of the Bees and Wasps, the
-collectors of honey or game. He is honoured by the two following
-anecdotes, which I quote from Lacordaire's "Introduction to
-Entomology," the only general treatise at my disposal:
-
-"Clairville," says the author, "records that he saw a Necrophorus
-vespillo, who, wishing to bury a dead Mouse and finding the soil on
-which the body lay too hard, proceeded to dig a hole at some distance
-in soil more easily displaced. This operation completed, he attempted
-to bury the Mouse in this cavity, but, not succeeding, he flew away,
-returning a few moments later accompanied by four of his fellows, who
-assisted him to move the Mouse and bury it."
-
-In such actions, Lacordaire adds, we cannot refuse to admit the
-intervention of reason.
-
-"The following case," he continues, "recorded by Gledditsch, has also
-every indication of the intervention of reason. One of his friends,
-wishing to desiccate a Frog, placed it on the top of a stick thrust
-into the ground, in order to make sure that the Necrophori should not
-come and carry it off. But this precaution was of no effect; the
-insects, being unable to reach the Frog, dug under the stick and,
-having caused it to fall, buried it as well as the body." ("Suites a
-Buffon. Introduction a l'entomologie" volume 2 pages 460-61.--Author's
-Note.)
-
-To grant, in the intellect of the insect, a lucid understanding of the
-relations between cause and effect, between the end and the means, is
-an affirmation of serious import. I know of scarcely any better adapted
-to the philosophical brutalities of my time. But are these two little
-stories really true? Do they involve the consequences deduced from
-them? Are not those who accept them as reliable testimony a little
-over-simple?
-
-To be sure, simplicity is needed in entomology. Without a good dose of
-this quality, a mental defect in the eyes of practical folk, who would
-busy himself with the lesser creatures? Yes, let us be simple, without
-being childishly credulous. Before making insects reason, let us reason
-a little ourselves; let us, above all, consult the experimental test. A
-fact gathered at hazard, without criticism, cannot establish a law.
-
-I do not propose, O valiant grave-diggers, to belittle your merits;
-such is far from being my intention. I have that in my notes, on the
-other hand, which will do you more honour than the case of the gibbet
-and the Frog; I have gleaned, for your benefit, examples of prowess
-which will shed a new lustre upon your reputation.
-
-No, my intention is not to lessen your renown. However, it is not the
-business of impartial history to maintain a given thesis; it follows
-whither the facts lead it. I wish simply to question you upon the power
-of logic attributed to you. Do you or do you not enjoy gleams of
-reason? Have you within you the humble germ of human thought? That is
-the problem before us.
-
-To solve it we will not rely upon the accidents which good fortune may
-now and again procure for us. We must employ the breeding-cage, which
-will permit of assiduous visits, continued inquiry and a variety of
-artifices. But how populate the cage? The land of the olive-tree is not
-rich in Necrophori. To my knowledge it possesses only a single species,
-N. vestigator (Hersch.); and even this rival of the grave-diggers of
-the north is pretty scarce. The discovery of three or four in the
-course of the spring was as much as my searches yielded in the old
-days. This time, if I do not resort to the ruses of the trapper, I
-shall obtain them in no greater numbers; whereas I stand in need of at
-least a dozen.
-
-These ruses are very simple. To go in search of the layer-out of
-bodies, who exists only here and there in the country-side, would be
-almost always waste of time; the favourable month, April, would elapse
-before my cage was suitably populated. To run after him is to trust too
-much to accident; so we will make him come to us by scattering in the
-orchard an abundant collection of dead Moles. To this carrion, ripened
-by the sun, the insect will not fail to hasten from the various points
-of the horizon, so accomplished is he in the detection of such a
-delicacy.
-
-I make an arrangement with a gardener in the neighbourhood, who, two or
-three times a week, supplements the penury of my acre and a half of
-stony ground, providing me with vegetables raised in a better soil. I
-explain to him my urgent need of Moles, an indefinite number of moles.
-Battling daily with trap and spade against the importunate excavator
-who uproots his crops, he is in a better position than any one else to
-procure for me that which I regard for the moment as more precious than
-his bunches of asparagus or his white-heart cabbages.
-
-The worthy man at first laughs at my request, being greatly surprised
-by the importance which I attribute to the abhorrent creature, the
-Darboun; but at last he consents, not without a suspicion at the back
-of his mind that I am going to make myself a wonderful flannel-lined
-waist-coat with the soft, velvety skins of the Moles, something good
-for pains in the back. Very well. We settle the matter. The essential
-thing is that the Darbouns shall reach me.
-
-They reach me punctually, by twos, by threes, by fours, packed in a few
-cabbage-leaves, at the bottom of the gardener's basket. The worthy man
-who lent himself with such good grace to my strange requirements will
-never guess how much comparative psychology will owe him! In a few days
-I was the possessor of thirty Moles, which were scattered here and
-there, as they reached me, in bare portions of the orchard, amid the
-rosemary-bushes, the arbutus-trees, and the lavender-beds.
-
-Now it only remained to wait and to examine, several times a day, the
-under-side of my little corpses, a disgusting task which any one would
-avoid who had not the sacred fire in his veins. Only little Paul, of
-all the household, lent me the aid of his nimble hand to seize the
-fugitives. I have already stated that the entomologist has need of
-simplicity of mind. In this important business of the Necrophori, my
-assistants were a child and an illiterate.
-
-Little Paul's visits alternating with mine, we had not long to wait.
-The four winds of heaven bore forth in all directions the odour of the
-carrion; and the undertakers hurried up, so that the experiments, begun
-with four subjects, were continued with fourteen, a number not attained
-during the whole of my previous searches, which were unpremeditated and
-in which no bait was used as decoy. My trapper's ruse was completely
-successful.
-
-Before I report the results obtained in the cage, let us for a moment
-stop to consider the normal conditions of the labours that fall to the
-lot of the Necrophori. The Beetle does not select his head of game,
-choosing one in proportion to his strength, as do the predatory Wasps;
-he accepts it as hazard presents it to him. Among his finds there are
-little creatures, such as the Shrew-mouse; animals of medium size, such
-as the Field-mouse; and enormous beasts, such as the Mole, the
-Sewer-rat and the Snake, any of which exceeds the powers of excavation
-of a single grave-digger. In the majority of cases transportation is
-impossible, so disproportioned is the burden to the motive-power. A
-slight displacement, caused by the effort of the insects' backs, is all
-that can possibly be effected.
-
-Ammophilus and Cerceris, Sphex and Pompilus excavate their burrows
-wherever they please; they carry their prey thither on the wing, or, if
-too heavy, drag it afoot. The Necrophorus knows no such facilities in
-his task. Incapable of carrying the monstrous corpse, no matter where
-encountered, he is forced to dig the grave where the body lies.
-
-This obligatory place of sepulture may be in stony soil; it may occupy
-this or that bare spot, or some other where the grass, especially the
-couch-grass, plunges into the ground its inextricable network of little
-cords. There is a great probability, too, that a bristle of stunted
-brambles may support the body at some inches from the soil. Slung by
-the labourers' spade, which has just broken his back, the Mole falls
-here, there, anywhere, at random; and where the body falls, no matter
-what the obstacles--provided they be not insurmountable--there the
-undertaker must utilize it.
-
-The difficulties of inhumation are capable of such variety as causes us
-already to foresee that the Necrophorus cannot employ fixed methods in
-the accomplishment of his labours. Exposed to fortuitous hazards, he
-must be able to modify his tactics within the limits of his modest
-perceptions. To saw, to break, to disentangle, to lift, to shake, to
-displace: these are so many methods of procedure which are
-indispensable to the grave-digger in a predicament. Deprived of these
-resources, reduced to uniformity of method, the insect would be
-incapable of pursuing the calling which has fallen to its lot.
-
-We see at once how imprudent it would be to draw conclusions from an
-isolated case in which rational coordination or premeditated intention
-might appear to intervene. Every instinctive action no doubt has its
-motive; but does the animal in the first place judge whether the action
-is opportune? Let us begin by a careful consideration of the creature's
-labours; let us support each piece of evidence by others; and then we
-shall be able to answer the question.
-
-First of all, a word as to diet. A general scavenger, the
-Burying-beetle refuses nothing in the way of cadaveric putridity. All
-is good to his senses, feathered game or furry, provided that the
-burden do not exceed his strength. He exploits the batrachian or the
-reptile with no less animation, he accepts without hesitation
-extraordinary finds, probably unknown to his race, as witness a certain
-Gold-fish, a red Chinese Carp, whose body, placed in one of my cages,
-was instantly considered an excellent tit-bit and buried according to
-the rules. Nor is butcher's meat despised. A mutton-cutlet, a strip of
-beefsteak, in the right stage of maturity, disappeared beneath the
-soil, receiving the same attention as those which were lavished on the
-Mole or the Mouse. In short, the Necrophorus has no exclusive
-preferences; anything putrid he conveys underground.
-
-The maintenance of his industry, therefore, presents no sort of
-difficulty. If one kind of game be lacking, some other--the first to
-hand--will very well replace it. Neither is there much trouble in
-establishing the site of his industry. A capacious dish-cover of wire
-gauze is sufficient, resting on an earthen pan filled to the brim with
-fresh, heaped sand. To obviate criminal attempts on the part of the
-Cats, whom the game would not fail to tempt, the cage is installed in a
-closed room with glazed windows, which in winter is the refuge of the
-plants and in summer an entomological laboratory.
-
-Now to work. The Mole lies in the centre of the enclosure. The soil,
-easily shifted and homogeneous, realizes the best conditions for
-comfortable work. Four Necrophori, three males and a female, are there
-with the body. They remain invisible, hidden beneath the carcass, which
-from time to time seems to return to life, shaken from end to end by
-the backs of the workers. An observer not in the secret would be
-somewhat astonished to see the dead creature move. From time to time,
-one of the sextons, almost always a male, emerges and goes the rounds
-of the animal, which he explores, probing its velvet coat. He hurriedly
-returns, appears again, once more investigates and creeps back under
-the corpse.
-
-The tremors become more pronounced; the carcass oscillates, while a
-cushion of sand, pushed outward from below, grows up all about it. The
-Mole, by reason of his own weight and the efforts of the grave-diggers,
-who are labouring at their task beneath him, gradually sinks, for lack
-of support, into the undermined soil.
-
-Presently the sand which has been pushed outward quivers under the
-thrust of the invisible miners, slips into the pit and covers the
-interred Mole. It is a clandestine burial. The body seems to disappear
-of itself, as though engulfed by a fluid medium. For a long time yet,
-until the depth is regarded as sufficient, the body will continue to
-descend.
-
-It is, when all is taken into account, a very simple operation. As the
-diggers, underneath the corpse, deepen the cavity into which it sinks,
-tugged and shaken by the sextons, the grave, without their
-intervention, fills of itself by the mere downfall of the shaken soil.
-Useful shovels at the tips of their claws, powerful backs, capable of
-creating a little earthquake: the diggers need nothing more for the
-practice of their profession. Let us add--for this is an essential
-point--the art of continually jerking and shaking the body, so as to
-pack it into a lesser volume and cause it to pass when passage is
-obstructed. We shall presently see that this art plays a part of the
-greatest importance in the industry of the Necrophori.
-
-Although he has disappeared, the Mole is still far from having reached
-his destination. Let us leave the undertakers to complete their task.
-What they are now doing below ground is a continuation of what they did
-on the surface and would teach us nothing new. We will wait for two or
-three days.
-
-The moment has come. Let us inform ourselves of what is happening down
-there. Let us visit the retting-vat. I shall invite no one to be
-present at the exhumation. Of those about me, only little Paul has the
-courage to assist me.
-
-The Mole is a Mole no longer, but a greenish horror, putrid, hairless,
-shrunk into a round, greasy mass. The thing must have undergone careful
-manipulation to be thus condensed into a small volume, like a fowl in
-the hands of the cook, and, above all, to be so completely deprived of
-its fur. Is this culinary procedure undertaken in respect of the
-larvae, which might be incommoded by the fur? Or is it just a casual
-result, a mere loss of hair due to putridity? I am not certain. But it
-is always the case that these exhumations, from first to last, have
-revealed the furry game furless and the feathered game featherless,
-except for the tail-feathers and the pinion-feathers of the wings.
-Reptiles and fish, on the other hand, retain their scales.
-
-Let us return to the unrecognizable thing which was once a Mole. The
-tit-bit lies in a spacious crypt, with firm walls, a regular workshop,
-worthy of being the bake-house of a Copris-beetle. Except for the fur,
-which is lying in scattered flocks, it is intact. The grave-diggers
-have not eaten into it; it is the patrimony of the sons, not the
-provision of the parents, who, in order to sustain themselves, levy at
-most a few mouthfuls of the ooze of putrid humours.
-
-Beside the dish which they are kneading and protecting are two
-Necrophori; a couple, no more. Four collaborated in the burial. What
-has become of the other two, both males? I find them hidden in the
-soil, at a distance, almost at the surface.
-
-This observation is not an isolated one. Whenever I am present at a
-burial undertaken by a squad in which the males, zealous one and all,
-predominate, I find presently, when the burial is completed, only one
-couple in the mortuary cellar. Having lent their assistance, the rest
-have discreetly retired.
-
-These grave-diggers, in truth, are remarkable fathers. They have
-nothing of the happy-go-lucky paternal carelessness that is the general
-rule among insects, which plague and pester the mother for a moment
-with their attentions and thereupon leave her to care for the
-offspring! But those who in the other races are unemployed in this case
-labour valiantly, now in the interest of their own family, now for the
-sake of another's, without distinction. If a couple is in difficulties,
-helpers arrive, attracted by the odour of carrion; anxious to serve a
-lady, they creep under the body, work at it with back and claw, bury it
-and then go their ways, leaving the householders to their happiness.
-
-For some time longer these latter manipulate the morsel in concert,
-stripping it of fur or feather, trussing it and allowing it to simmer
-to the taste of the larvae. When all is in order, the couple go forth,
-dissolving their partnership, and each, following his fancy,
-recommences elsewhere, even if only as a mere auxiliary.
-
-Twice and no oftener hitherto have I found the father preoccupied by
-the future of his sons and labouring in order to leave them rich: it
-happens with certain Dung-beetles and with the Necrophori, who bury
-dead bodies. Scavengers and undertakers both have exemplary morals. Who
-would look for virtue in such a quarter?
-
-What follows--the larval existence and the metamorphosis--is a
-secondary detail and, for that matter, familiar. It is a dry subject
-and I shall deal with it briefly. About the end of May, I exhume a
-Brown Rat, buried by the grave-diggers a fortnight earlier. Transformed
-into a black, sticky jelly, the horrible dish provides me with fifteen
-larvae, already, for the most part, of the normal size. A few adults,
-connections, assuredly, of the brood, are also stirring amid the
-infected mass. The period of hatching is over now; and food is
-plentiful. Having nothing else to do, the foster-parents have sat down
-to the feast with the nurselings.
-
-The undertakers are quick at rearing a family. It is at most a
-fortnight since the Rat was laid in the earth; and here already is a
-vigorous population on the verge of the metamorphosis. Such precocity
-amazes me. It would seem as though the liquefaction of carrion, deadly
-to any other stomach, is in this case a food productive of especial
-energy, which stimulates the organism and accelerates its growth, so
-that the victuals may be consumed before its approaching conversion
-into mould. Living chemistry makes haste to outstrip the ultimate
-reactions of mineral chemistry.
-
-White, naked, blind, possessing the habitual attributes of life in
-darkness, the larva, with its lanceolate outline, is slightly
-reminiscent of the grub of the Ground-beetle. The mandibles are black
-and powerful, making excellent scissors for dissection. The limbs are
-short, but capable of a quick, toddling gait. The segments of the
-abdomen are armoured on the upper surface with a narrow reddish plate,
-armed with four tiny spikes, whose office apparently is to furnish
-points of support when the larva quits the natal dwelling and dives
-into the soil, there to undergo the transformation. The thoracic
-segments are provided with wider plates, but unarmed.
-
-The adults discovered in the company of their larval family, in this
-putridity that was a Rat, are all abominably verminous. So shiny and
-neat in their attire, when at work under the first Moles of April, the
-Necrophori, when June approaches, become odious to look upon. A layer
-of parasites envelops them; insinuating itself into the joints, it
-forms an almost continuous surface. The insect presents a misshapen
-appearance under this overcoat of vermin, which my hair-pencil can
-hardly brush aside. Driven off the belly, the horde make the tour of
-the sufferer and encamp on his back, refusing to relinquish their hold.
-
-I recognize among them the Beetle's Gamasis, the Tick who so often
-soils the ventral amethyst of our Geotrupes. No; the prizes of life do
-not fall to the share of the useful. Necrophori and Geotrupes devote
-themselves to works of general salubrity; and these two corporations,
-so interesting in the accomplishment of their hygienic functions, so
-remarkable for their domestic morality, are given over to the vermin of
-poverty. Alas, of this discrepancy between the services rendered and
-the harshness of life there are many other examples outside the world
-of scavengers and undertakers!
-
-The Burying-beetles display an exemplary domestic morality, but it does
-not persist until the end. During the first fortnight of June, the
-family being sufficiently provided for, the sextons strike work and my
-cages are deserted, so far as the surface is concerned, in spite of new
-arrivals of Mice and Sparrows. From time to time some grave-digger
-leaves the subsoil and comes crawling languidly in the fresh air.
-
-Another rather curious fact now attracts my attention. All, as soon as
-they emerge from underground, are <DW36>s, whose limbs have been
-amputated at the joints, some higher up, some lower down. I see one
-mutilated Beetle who has only one leg left entire. With this odd limb
-and the stumps of the others lamentably tattered, scaly with vermin, he
-rows himself, as it were, over the dusty surface. A comrade emerges,
-one better off for legs, who finishes the <DW36> and cleans out his
-abdomen. So my thirteen remaining Necrophori end their days,
-half-devoured by their companions, or at least shorn of several limbs.
-The pacific relations of the outset are succeeded by cannibalism.
-
-History tells us that certain peoples, the Massagetae and others, used
-to kill their aged folk in order to spare them the miseries of
-senility. The fatal blow on the hoary skull was in their eyes an act of
-filial piety. The Necrophori have their share of these ancient
-barbarities. Full of days and henceforth useless, dragging out a weary
-existence, they mutually exterminate one another. Why prolong the agony
-of the impotent and the imbecile?
-
-The Massagetae might invoke, as an excuse for their atrocious custom, a
-dearth of provisions, which is an evil counsellor; not so the
-Necrophori, for, thanks to my generosity, victuals are superabundant,
-both beneath the soil and on the surface. Famine plays no part in this
-slaughter. Here we have the aberration of exhaustion, the morbid fury
-of a life on the point of extinction. As is generally the case, work
-bestows a peaceable disposition on the grave-digger, while inaction
-inspires him with perverted tastes. Having no longer anything to do, he
-breaks his fellow's limbs, eats him up, heedless of being mutilated or
-eaten up himself. This is the ultimate deliverance of verminous old
-age.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER 6. THE BURYING-BEETLES: EXPERIMENTS.
-
-Let us proceed to the rational prowess which has earned for the
-Necrophorus the better part of his renown and, to begin with, let us
-submit the case related by Clairville--that of the too hard soil and
-the call for assistance--to experimental test.
-
-With this object in view, I pave the centre of the space beneath the
-cover, level with the soil, with a brick and sprinkle the latter with a
-thin layer of sand. This will be the soil in which digging is
-impracticable. All about it, for some distance and on the same level,
-spreads the loose soil, which is easy to dig.
-
-In order to approximate to the conditions of the little story, I must
-have a Mouse; with a Mole, a heavy mass, the work of removal would
-perhaps present too much difficulty. To obtain the Mouse I place my
-friends and neighbours under requisition; they laugh at my whim but
-none the less proffer their traps. Yet, the moment a Mouse is needed,
-that very common animal becomes rare. Braving decorum in his speech,
-which follows the Latin of his ancestors, the Provencal says, but even
-more crudely than in my translation: "If you look for dung, the Asses
-become constipated!"
-
-At last I possess the Mouse of my dreams! She comes to me from that
-refuge, furnished with a truss of straw, in which official charity
-gives the hospitality of a day to the beggar wandering over the face of
-the fertile earth; from that municipal hostel whence one invariably
-emerges verminous. O Reaumur, who used to invite marquises to see your
-caterpillars change their skins, what would you have said of a future
-disciple conversant with such wretchedness as this? Perhaps it is well
-that we should not be ignorant of it, so that we may take compassion on
-the sufferings of beasts.
-
-The Mouse so greatly desired is mine. I place her upon the centre of
-the brick. The grave-diggers under the wire cover are now seven in
-number, of whom three are females. All have gone to earth: some are
-inactive, close to the surface; the rest are busy in their crypts. The
-presence of the fresh corpse is promptly perceived. About seven o'clock
-in the morning, three Necrophori hurry up, two males and a female. They
-slip under the Mouse, who moves in jerks, a sign of the efforts of the
-burying-party. An attempt is made to dig into the layer of sand which
-hides the brick, so that a bank of sand accumulates about the body.
-
-For a couple of hours the jerks continue without results. I profit by
-the circumstance to investigate the manner in which the work is
-performed. The bare brick allows me to see what the excavated soil
-concealed from me. If it is necessary to move the body, the Beetle
-turns over; with his six claws he grips the hair of the dead animal,
-props himself upon his back and pushes, making a lever of his head and
-the tip of his abdomen. If digging is required, he resumes the normal
-position. So, turn and turn about, the sexton strives, now with his
-claws in the air, when it is a question of shifting the body or
-dragging it lower down; now with his feet on the ground, when it is
-necessary to deepen the grave.
-
-The point at which the Mouse lies is finally recognized as
-unassailable. A male appears in the open. He explores the specimen,
-goes the round of it, scratches a little at random. He goes back; and
-immediately the body rocks. Is he advising his collaborators of what he
-has discovered? Is he arranging matters with a view to their
-establishing themselves elsewhere, on propitious soil?
-
-The facts are far from confirming this idea. When he shakes the body,
-the others imitate him and push, but without combining their efforts in
-a given direction, for, after advancing a little towards the edge of
-the brick, the burden goes back again, returning to the point of
-departure. In the absence of any concerted understanding, their efforts
-of leverage are wasted. Nearly three hours are occupied by oscillations
-which mutually annul one another. The Mouse does not cross the little
-sand-hill heaped about it by the rakes of the workers.
-
-For the second time a male emerges and makes a round of exploration. A
-bore is made in workable earth, close beside the brick. This is a trial
-excavation, to reveal the nature of the soil; a narrow well, of no
-great depth, into which the insect plunges to half its length. The
-well-sinker returns to the other workers, who arch their backs, and the
-load progresses a finger's-breadth towards the point recognized as
-favourable. Have they done the trick this time? No, for after a while
-the Mouse recoils. No progress towards a solution of the difficulty.
-
-Now two males come out in search of information, each of his own
-accord. Instead of stopping at the point already sounded, a point most
-judiciously chosen, it seemed, on account of its proximity, which would
-save laborious transportation, they precipitately scour the whole area
-of the cage, sounding the soil on this side and on that and ploughing
-superficial furrows in it. They get as far from the brick as the limits
-of the enclosure permit.
-
-They dig, by preference, against the base of the cover; here they make
-several borings, without any reason, so far as I can see, the bed of
-soil being everywhere equally assailable away from the brick; the first
-point sounded is abandoned for a second, which is rejected in its turn.
-A third and a fourth are tried; then another and yet another. At the
-sixth point the selection is made. In all these cases the excavation is
-by no means a grave destined to receive the Mouse, but a mere trial
-boring, of inconsiderable depth, its diameter being that of the
-digger's body.
-
-A return is made to the Mouse, who suddenly quivers, oscillates,
-advances, recoils, first in one direction, then in another, until in
-the end the little hillock of sand is crossed. Now we are free of the
-brick and on excellent soil. Little by little the load advances. This
-is no cartage by a team hauling in the open, but a jerky displacement,
-the work of invisible levers. The body seems to move of its own accord.
-
-This time, after so many hesitations, their efforts are concerted; at
-all events, the load reaches the region sounded far more rapidly than I
-expected. Then begins the burial, according to the usual method. It is
-one o'clock. The Necrophori have allowed the hour-hand of the clock to
-go half round the dial while verifying the condition of the surrounding
-spots and displacing the Mouse.
-
-In this experiment it appears at the outset that the males play a major
-part in the affairs of the household. Better-equipped, perhaps, than
-their mates, they make investigations when a difficulty occurs; they
-inspect the soil, recognize whence the check arises and choose the
-point at which the grave shall be made. In the lengthy experiment of
-the brick, the two males alone explored the surroundings and set to
-work to solve the difficulty. Confiding in their assistance, the
-female, motionless beneath the Mouse, awaited the result of their
-investigations. The tests which are to follow will confirm the merits
-of these valiant auxiliaries.
-
-In the second place, the point where the Mouse lay being recognized as
-presenting an insurmountable resistance, there was no grave dug in
-advance, a little farther off, in the light soil. All attempts were
-limited, I repeat, to shallow soundings which informed the insect of
-the possibility of inhumation.
-
-It is absolute nonsense to speak of their first preparing the grave to
-which the body will afterwards be carted. To excavate the soil, our
-grave-diggers must feel the weight of their dead on their backs. They
-work only when stimulated by the contact of its fur. Never, never in
-this world do they venture to dig a grave unless the body to be buried
-already occupies the site of the cavity. This is absolutely confirmed
-by my two and a half months and more of daily observations.
-
-The rest of Clairville's anecdote bears examination no better. We are
-told that the Necrophorus in difficulties goes in search of assistance
-and returns with companions who assist him to bury the Mouse. This, in
-another form, is the edifying story of the Sacred Beetle whose pellet
-had rolled into a rut, powerless to withdraw his treasure from the
-gulf, the wily Dung-beetle called together three or four of his
-neighbours, who benevolently recovered the pellet, returning to their
-labours after the work of salvage.
-
-The exploit--so ill-interpreted--of the thieving pill-roller sets me on
-my guard against that of the undertaker. Shall I be too exigent if I
-enquire what precautions the observer adopted to recognize the owner of
-the Mouse on his return, when he reappears, as we are told, with four
-assistants? What sign denotes that one of the five who was able, in so
-rational a manner, to appeal for help? Can one even be sure that the
-one to disappear returns and forms one of the band? There is nothing to
-indicate it; and this was the essential point which a sterling observer
-was bound not to neglect. Were they not rather five chance Necrophori
-who, guided by the smell, without any previous understanding, hastened
-to the abandoned Mouse to exploit her on their own account? I incline
-to this opinion, the most likely of all in the absence of exact
-information.
-
-Probability becomes certainty if we submit the case to the verification
-of experiment. The test with the brick already gives us some
-information. For six hours my three specimens exhausted themselves in
-efforts before they got to the length of removing their booty and
-placing it on practicable soil. In this long and heavy task helpful
-neighbours would have been anything but unwelcome. Four other
-Necrophori, buried here and there under a little sand, comrades and
-acquaintances, helpers of the day before, were occupying the same cage;
-and not one of those concerned thought of summoning them to give
-assistance. Despite their extreme embarrassment, the owners of the
-Mouse accomplished their task to the end, without the least help,
-though this could have been so easily requisitioned.
-
-Being three, one might say, they considered themselves sufficiently
-strong; they needed no one else to lend them a hand. The objection does
-not hold good. On many occasions and under conditions even more
-difficult than those presented by a stony soil, I have again and again
-seen isolated Necrophori exhausting themselves in striving against my
-artifices; yet not once did they leave their work to recruit helpers.
-Collaborators, it is true, did often arrive, but they were convoked by
-their sense of smell, not by the first possessor. They were fortuitous
-helpers; they were never called in. They were welcomed without
-disagreement, but also without gratitude. They were not summoned; they
-were tolerated. In the glazed shelter where I keep the cage I happened
-to catch one of these chance assistants in the act. Passing that way in
-the night and scenting dead flesh, he had entered where none of his
-kind had yet penetrated of his own free will. I surprised him on the
-wire-gauze dome of the cover. If the wire had not prevented him, he
-would have set to work incontinently, in company with the rest. Had my
-captives invited him? Assuredly not. He had hastened thither attracted
-by the odour of the Mole, heedless of the efforts of others. So it was
-with those whose obliging assistance is extolled. I repeat, in respect
-of their imaginary prowess, what I have said elsewhere of that of the
-Sacred Beetles: the story is a childish one, worthy of ranking with any
-fairy-tale written for the amusement of the simple.
-
-A hard soil, necessitating the removal of the body, is not the only
-difficulty familiar to the Necrophori. Often, perhaps more often than
-not, the ground is covered with grass, above all with couch-grass,
-whose tenacious rootlets form an inextricable network below the
-surface. To dig in the interstices is possible, but to drag the dead
-animal through them is another matter: the meshes of the net are too
-close to give it passage. Will the grave-digger find himself reduced to
-impotence by such an impediment, which must be an extremely common one?
-That could not be.
-
-Exposed to this or that habitual obstacle in the exercise of his
-calling, the animal is always equipped accordingly; otherwise his
-profession would be impracticable. No end is attained without the
-necessary means and aptitudes. Besides that of the excavator, the
-Necrophorus certainly possesses another art: the art of breaking the
-cables, the roots, the stolons, the slender rhizomes which check the
-body's descent into the grave. To the work of the shovel and the pick
-must be added that of the shears. All this is perfectly logical and may
-be foreseen with complete lucidity. Nevertheless, let us invoke
-experiment, the best of witnesses.
-
-I borrow from the kitchen-range an iron trivet whose legs will supply a
-solid foundation for the engine which I am devising. This is a coarse
-network of strips of raphia, a fairly accurate imitation of the network
-of couch-grass roots. The very irregular meshes are nowhere wide enough
-to admit of the passage of the creature to be buried, which in this
-case is a Mole. The trivet is planted with its three feet in the soil
-of the cage; its top is level with the surface of the soil. A little
-sand conceals the meshes. The Mole is placed in the centre; and my
-squad of sextons is let loose upon the body.
-
-Without a hitch the burial is accomplished in the course of an
-afternoon. The hammock of raphia, almost equivalent to the natural
-network of couch-grass turf, scarcely disturbs the process of
-inhumation. Matters do not go forward quite so quickly; and that is
-all. No attempt is made to shift the Mole, who sinks into the ground
-where he lies. The operation completed, I remove the trivet. The
-network is broken at the spot where the corpse lay. A few strips have
-been gnawed through; a small number, only so many as were strictly
-necessary to permit the passage of the body.
-
-Well done, my undertakers! I expected no less of your savoir-faire. You
-have foiled the artifices of the experimenter by employing your
-resources against natural obstacles. With mandibles for shears, you
-have patiently cut my threads as you would have gnawed the cordage of
-the grass-roots. This is meritorious, if not deserving of exceptional
-glorification. The most limited of the insects which work in earth
-would have done as much if subjected to similar conditions.
-
-Let us ascend a stage in the series of difficulties. The Mole is now
-fixed with a lashing of raphia fore and aft to a light horizontal
-cross-bar which rests on two firmly-planted forks. It is like a joint
-of venison on a spit, though rather oddly fastened. The dead animal
-touches the ground throughout the length of its body.
-
-The Necrophori disappear under the corpse, and, feeling the contact of
-its fur, begin to dig. The grave grows deeper and an empty space
-appears, but the coveted object does not descend, retained as it is by
-the cross-bar which the two forks keep in place. The digging slackens,
-the hesitations become prolonged.
-
-However, one of the grave-diggers ascends to the surface, wanders over
-the Mole, inspects him and ends by perceiving the hinder strap.
-Tenaciously he gnaws and ravels it. I hear the click of the shears that
-completes the rupture. Crack! The thing is done. Dragged down by his
-own weight, the Mole sinks into the grave, but slantwise, with his head
-still outside, kept in place by the second ligature.
-
-The Beetles proceed to the burial of the hinder part of the Mole; they
-twitch and jerk it now in this direction, now in that. Nothing comes of
-it; the thing refuses to give. A fresh sortie is made by one of them to
-discover what is happening overhead. The second ligature is perceived,
-is severed in turn, and henceforth the work proceeds as well as could
-be desired.
-
-My compliments, perspicacious cable-cutters! But I must not exaggerate.
-The lashings of the Mole were for you the little cords with which you
-are so familiar in turfy soil. You have severed them, as well as the
-hammock of the previous experiment, just as you sever with the blades
-of your shears any natural filament which stretches across your
-catacombs. It is, in your calling, an indispensable knack. If you had
-had to learn it by experience, to think it out before practising it,
-your race would have disappeared, killed by the hesitations of its
-apprenticeship, for the spots fertile in Moles, Frogs, Lizards and
-other victuals to your taste are usually grass-covered.
-
-You are capable of far better things yet; but, before proceeding to
-these, let us examine the case when the ground bristles with slender
-brushwood, which holds the corpse at a short distance from the ground.
-Will the find thus suspended by the hazard of its fall remain
-unemployed? Will the Necrophori pass on, indifferent to the superb
-tit-bit which they see and smell a few inches above their heads, or
-will they make it descend from its gibbet?
-
-Game does not abound to such a point that it can be disdained if a few
-efforts will obtain it. Before I see the thing happen I am persuaded
-that it will fall, that the Necrophori, often confronted by the
-difficulties of a body which is not lying on the soil, must possess the
-instinct to shake it to the ground. The fortuitous support of a few
-bits of stubble, of a few interlaced brambles, a thing so common in the
-fields, should not be able to baffle them. The overthrow of the
-suspended body, if placed too high, should certainly form part of their
-instinctive methods. For the rest, let us watch them at work.
-
-I plant in the sand of the cage a meagre tuft of thyme. The shrub is at
-most some four inches in height. In the branches I place a Mouse,
-entangling the tail, the paws and the neck among the twigs in order to
-increase the difficulty. The population of the cage now consists of
-fourteen Necrophori and will remain the same until the close of my
-investigations. Of course they do not all take part simultaneously in
-the day's work; the majority remain underground, somnolent, or occupied
-in setting their cellars in order. Sometimes only one, often two, three
-or four, rarely more, busy themselves with the dead creature which I
-offer them. To-day two hasten to the Mouse, who is soon perceived
-overhead in the tuft of thyme.
-
-They gain the summit of the plant by way of the wire trellis of the
-cage. Here are repeated, with increased hesitation, due to the
-inconvenient nature of the support, the tactics employed to remove the
-body when the soil is unfavourable. The insect props itself against a
-branch, thrusting alternately with back and claws, jerking and shaking
-vigorously until the point where at it is working is freed from its
-fetters. In one brief shift, by dint of heaving their backs, the two
-collaborators extricate the body from the entanglement of twigs. Yet
-another shake; and the Mouse is down. The burial follows.
-
-There is nothing new in this experiment; the find has been dealt with
-just as though it lay upon soil unsuitable for burial. The fall is the
-result of an attempt to transport the load.
-
-The time has come to set up the Frog's gibbet celebrated by Gledditsch.
-The batrachian is not indispensable; a Mole will serve as well or even
-better. With a ligament of raphia I fix him, by his hind-legs, to a
-twig which I plant vertically in the ground, inserting it to no great
-depth. The creature hangs plumb against the gibbet, its head and
-shoulders making ample contact with the soil.
-
-The gravediggers set to work beneath the part which lies upon the
-ground, at the very foot of the stake; they dig a funnel-shaped hole,
-into which the muzzle, the head and the neck of the mole sink little by
-little. The gibbet becomes uprooted as they sink and eventually falls,
-dragged over by the weight of its heavy burden. I am assisting at the
-spectacle of the overturned stake, one of the most astonishing examples
-of rational accomplishment which has ever been recorded to the credit
-of the insect.
-
-This, for one who is considering the problem of instinct, is an
-exciting moment. But let us beware of forming conclusions as yet; we
-might be in too great a hurry. Let us ask ourselves first whether the
-fall of the stake was intentional or fortuitous. Did the Necrophori lay
-it bare with the express intention of causing it to fall? Or did they,
-on the contrary, dig at its base solely in order to bury that part of
-the mole which lay on the ground? that is the question, which, for the
-rest, is very easy to answer.
-
-The experiment is repeated; but this time the gibbet is slanting and
-the Mole, hanging in a vertical position, touches the ground at a
-couple of inches from the base of the gibbet. Under these conditions
-absolutely no attempt is made to overthrow the latter. Not the least
-scrape of a claw is delivered at the foot of the gibbet. The entire
-work of excavation is accomplished at a distance, under the body, whose
-shoulders are lying on the ground. There--and there only--a hole is dug
-to receive the free portion of the body, the part accessible to the
-sextons.
-
-A difference of an inch in the position of the suspended animal
-annihilates the famous legend. Even so, many a time, the most
-elementary sieve, handled with a little logic, is enough to winnow the
-confused mass of affirmations and to release the good grain of truth.
-
-Yet another shake of the sieve. The gibbet is oblique or vertical
-indifferently; but the Mole, always fixed by a hinder limb to the top
-of the twig, does not touch the soil; he hangs a few fingers'-breadths
-from the ground, out of the sextons' reach.
-
-What will the latter do? Will they scrape at the foot of the gibbet in
-order to overturn it? By no means; and the ingenuous observer who
-looked for such tactics would be greatly disappointed. No attention is
-paid to the base of the support. It is not vouchsafed even a stroke of
-the rake. Nothing is done to overturn it, nothing, absolutely nothing!
-It is by other methods that the Burying-beetles obtain the Mole.
-
-These decisive experiments, repeated under many different forms, prove
-that never, never in this world do the Necrophori dig, or even give a
-superficial scrape, at the foot of the gallows, unless the hanging body
-touch the ground at that point. And, in the latter case, if the twig
-should happen to fall, its fall is in nowise an intentional result, but
-a mere fortuitous effect of the burial already commenced.
-
-What, then, did the owner of the Frog of whom Gledditsch tells us
-really see? If his stick was overturned, the body placed to dry beyond
-the assaults of the Necrophori must certainly have touched the soil: a
-strange precaution against robbers and the damp! We may fittingly
-attribute more foresight to the preparer of dried Frogs and allow him
-to hang the creature some inches from the ground. In this case all my
-experiments emphatically assert that the fall of the stake undermined
-by the sextons is a pure matter of imagination.
-
-Yet another of the fine arguments in favour of the reasoning power of
-animals flies from the light of investigation and founders in the
-slough of error! I admire your simple faith, you masters who take
-seriously the statements of chance-met observers, richer in imagination
-than in veracity; I admire your credulous zeal, when, without
-criticism, you build up your theories on such absurdities.
-
-Let us proceed. The stake is henceforth planted vertically, but the
-body hanging on it does not reach the base: a condition which suffices
-to ensure that there is never any digging at this point. I make use of
-a Mouse, who, by reason of her trifling weight, will lend herself
-better to the insect's manoeuvres. The dead body is fixed by the
-hind-legs to the top of the stake with a ligature of raphia. It hangs
-plumb, in contact with the stick.
-
-Very soon two Necrophori have discovered the tit-bit. They climb up the
-miniature mast; they explore the body, dividing its fur by thrusts of
-the head. It is recognized to be an excellent find. So to work. Here we
-have again, but under far more difficult conditions, the tactics
-employed when it was necessary to displace the unfavourably situated
-body: the two collaborators slip between the Mouse and the stake, when,
-taking a grip of the latter and exerting a leverage with their backs,
-they jerk and shake the body, which oscillates, twirls about, swings
-away from the stake and relapses. All the morning is passed in vain
-attempts, interrupted by explorations on the animal's body.
-
-In the afternoon the cause of the check is at last recognized; not very
-clearly, for in the first place the two obstinate riflers of the
-gallows attack the hind-legs of the Mouse, a little below the ligature.
-They strip them bare, flay them and cut away the flesh about the heel.
-They have reached the bone, when one of them finds the raphia beneath
-his mandibles. This, to him, is a familiar thing, representing the
-gramineous fibre so frequent in the case of burial in grass-covered
-soil. Tenaciously the shears gnaw at the bond; the vegetable fetter is
-severed and the Mouse falls, to be buried a little later.
-
-If it were isolated, this severance of the suspending tie would be a
-magnificent performance; but considered in connection with the sum of
-the Beetle's customary labours it loses all far-reaching significance.
-Before attacking the ligature, which was not concealed in any way, the
-insect exerted itself for a whole morning in shaking the body, its
-usual method. Finally, finding the cord, it severed it, as it would
-have severed a ligament of couch-grass encountered underground.
-
-Under the conditions devised for the Beetle, the use of the shears is
-the indispensable complement of the use of the shovel; and the modicum
-of discernment at his disposal is enough to inform him when the blades
-of his shears will be useful. He cuts what embarrasses him with no more
-exercise of reason than he displays when placing the corpse
-underground. So little does he grasp the connection between cause and
-effect that he strives to break the bone of the leg before gnawing at
-the bast which is knotted close beside him. The difficult task is
-attacked before the extremely simple.
-
-Difficult, yes, but not impossible, provided that the Mouse be young. I
-begin again with a ligature of iron wire, on which the shears of the
-insect can obtain no purchase, and a tender Mouselet, half the size of
-an adult. This time a tibia is gnawed through, cut in two by the
-Beetle's mandibles near the spring of the heel. The detached member
-leaves plenty of space for the other, which readily slips from the
-metallic band; and the little body falls to the ground.
-
-But, if the bone be too hard, if the body suspended be that of a Mole,
-an adult Mouse, or a Sparrow, the wire ligament opposes an
-insurmountable obstacle to the attempts of the Necrophori, who, for
-nearly a week, work at the hanging body, partly stripping it of fur or
-feather and dishevelling it until it forms a lamentable object, and at
-last abandon it, when desiccation sets in. A last resource, however,
-remains, one as rational as infallible. It is to overthrow the stake.
-Of course, not one dreams of doing so.
-
-For the last time let us change our artifices. The top of the gibbet
-consists of a little fork, with the prongs widely opened and measuring
-barely two-fifths of an inch in length. With a thread of hemp, less
-easily attacked than a strip of raphia, I bind together, a little above
-the heels, the hind-legs of an adult Mouse; and between the legs I slip
-one of the prongs of the fork. To make the body fall it is enough to
-slide it a little way upwards; it is like a young Rabbit hanging in the
-front of a poulterer's shop.
-
-Five Necrophori come to inspect my preparations. After a great deal of
-futile shaking, the tibiae are attacked. This, it seems, is the method
-usually employed when the body is retained by one of its limbs in some
-narrow fork of a low-growing plant. While trying to saw through the
-bone--a heavy job this time--one of the workers slips between the
-shackled limbs. So situated, he feels against his back the furry touch
-of the Mouse. Nothing more is needed to arouse his propensity to thrust
-with his back. With a few heaves of the lever the thing is done; the
-Mouse rises a little, slides over the supporting peg and falls to the
-ground.
-
-Is this manoeuvre really thought out? Has the insect indeed perceived,
-by the light of a flash of reason, that in order to make the tit-bit
-fall it was necessary to unhook it by sliding it along the peg? Has it
-really perceived the mechanism of suspension? I know some
-persons--indeed, I know many--who, in the presence of this magnificent
-result, would be satisfied without further investigation.
-
-More difficult to convince, I modify the experiment before drawing a
-conclusion. I suspect that the Necrophorus, without any prevision of
-the consequences of his action, heaved his back simply because he felt
-the legs of the creature above him. With the system of suspension
-adopted, the push of the back, employed in all cases of difficulty, was
-brought to bear first upon the point of support; and the fall resulted
-from this happy coincidence. That point, which has to be slipped along
-the peg in order to unhook the object, ought really to be situated at a
-short distance from the Mouse, so that the Necrophori shall no longer
-feel her directly against their backs when they push.
-
-A piece of wire binds together now the tarsi of a Sparrow, now the
-heels of a Mouse and is bent, at a distance of three-quarters of an
-inch or so, into a little ring, which slips very loosely over one of
-the prongs of the fork, a short, almost horizontal prong. To make the
-hanging body fall, the slightest thrust upon this ring is sufficient;
-and, owing to its projection from the peg, it lends itself excellently
-to the insect's methods. In short, the arrangement is the same as it
-was just now, with this difference, that the point of support is at a
-short distance from the suspended animal.
-
-My trick, simple though it be, is fully successful. For a long time the
-body is repeatedly shaken, but in vain; the tibiae or tarsi, unduly
-hard, refuse to yield to the patient saw. Sparrows and Mice grow dry
-and shrivelled, unused, upon the gibbet. Sooner in one case, later in
-another, my Necrophori abandon the insoluble problem in mechanics: to
-push, ever so little, the movable support and so to unhook the coveted
-carcass.
-
-Curious reasoners, in faith! If they had had, but now, a lucid idea of
-the mutual relations between the shackled limbs and the suspending peg;
-if they had made the Mouse fall by a reasoned manoeuvre, whence comes
-it that the present artifice, no less simple than the first, is to them
-an insurmountable obstacle? For days and days they work on the body,
-examine it from head to foot, without becoming aware of the movable
-support, the cause of their misadventure. In vain do I prolong my
-watch; never do I see a single one of them push it with his foot or
-butt it with his head.
-
-Their defeat is not due to lack of strength. Like the Geotrupes, they
-are vigorous excavators. Grasped in the closed hand, they insinuate
-themselves through the interstices of the fingers and plough up your
-skin in a fashion to make you very quickly loose your hold. With his
-head, a robust ploughshare, the Beetle might very easily push the ring
-off its short support. He is not able to do so because he does not
-think of it; he does not think of it because he is devoid of the
-faculty attributed to him, in order to support its thesis, by the
-dangerous prodigality of transformism.
-
-Divine reason, sun of the intellect, what a clumsy slap in thy august
-countenance, when the glorifiers of the animal degrade thee with such
-dullness!
-
-Let us now examine under another aspect the mental obscurity of the
-Necrophori. My captives are not so satisfied with their sumptuous
-lodging that they do not seek to escape, especially when there is a
-dearth of labour, that sovran consoler of the afflicted, man or beast.
-Internment within the wire cover palls upon them. So, the Mole buried
-and all in order in the cellar, they stray uneasily over the wire-gauze
-of the dome; they clamber up, descend, ascend again and take to flight,
-a flight which instantly becomes a fall, owing to collision with the
-wire grating. They pick themselves up and begin again. The sky is
-superb; the weather is hot, calm and propitious for those in search of
-the Lizard crushed beside the footpath. Perhaps the effluvia of the
-gamy tit-bit have reached them, coming from afar, imperceptible to any
-other sense than that of the Sexton-beetles. So my Necrophori are fain
-to go their ways.
-
-Can they? Nothing would be easier if a glimmer of reason were to aid
-them. Through the wire network, over which they have so often strayed,
-they have seen, outside, the free soil, the promised land which they
-long to reach. A hundred times if once have they dug at the foot of the
-rampart. There, in vertical wells, they take up their station, drowsing
-whole days on end while unemployed. If I give them a fresh Mole, they
-emerge from their retreat by the entrance corridor and come to hide
-themselves beneath the belly of the beast. The burial over, they
-return, one here, one there, to the confines of the enclosure and
-disappear beneath the soil.
-
-Well, in two and a half months of captivity, despite long stays at the
-base of the trellis, at a depth of three-quarters of an inch beneath
-the surface, it is rare indeed for a Necrophorus to succeed in
-circumventing the obstacle, to prolong his excavation beneath the
-barrier, to make an elbow in it and to bring it out on the other side,
-a trifling task for these vigorous creatures. Of fourteen only one
-succeeded in escaping.
-
-A chance deliverance and not premeditated; for, if the happy event had
-been the result of a mental combination, the other prisoners,
-practically his equals in powers of perception, would all, from first
-to last, discover by rational means the elbowed path leading to the
-outer world; and the cage would promptly be deserted. The failure of
-the great majority proves that the single fugitive was simply digging
-at random. Circumstances favoured him; and that is all. Do not let us
-make it a merit that he succeeded where all the others failed.
-
-Let us also beware of attributing to the Necrophori an understanding
-more limited than is usual in entomological psychology. I find the
-ineptness of the undertaker in all the insects reared under the wire
-cover, on the bed of sand into which the rim of the dome sinks a little
-way. With very rare exceptions, fortuitous accidents, no insect has
-thought of circumventing the barrier by way of the base; none has
-succeeded in gaining the exterior by means of a slanting tunnel, not
-even though it were a miner by profession, as are the Dung-beetles par
-excellence. Captives under the wire dome, but desirous of escape,
-Sacred Beetles, Geotrupes, Copres, Gymnopleuri, Sisyphi, all see about
-them the freedom of space, the joys of the open sunlight; and not one
-thinks of going round under the rampart, a front which would present no
-difficulty to their pick-axes.
-
-Even in the higher ranks of animality, examples of similar mental
-obfuscation are not lacking. Audubon relates how, in his days, the wild
-Turkeys were caught in North America.
-
-In a clearing known to be frequented by these birds, a great cage was
-constructed with stakes driven into the ground. In the centre of the
-enclosure opened a short tunnel, which dipped under the palisade and
-returned to the surface outside the cage by a gentle <DW72>, which was
-open to the sky. The central opening, large enough to give a bird free
-passage, occupied only a portion of the enclosure, leaving around it,
-against the circle of stakes, a wide unbroken zone. A few handfuls of
-maize were scattered in the interior of the trap, as well as round
-about it, and in particular along the sloping path, which passed under
-a sort of bridge and led to the centre of the contrivance. In short,
-the Turkey-trap presented an ever-open door. The bird found it in order
-to enter, but did not think of looking for it in order to return by it.
-
-According to the famous American ornithologist, the Turkeys, lured by
-the grains of maize, descended the insidious <DW72>, entered the short
-underground passage and beheld, at the end of it, plunder and the
-light. A few steps farther and the gluttons emerged, one by one, from
-beneath the bridge. They distributed themselves about the enclosure.
-The maize was abundant; and the Turkeys' crops grew swollen.
-
-When all was gathered, the band wished to retreat, but not one of the
-prisoners paid any attention to the central hole by which he had
-arrived. Gobbling uneasily, they passed again and again across the
-bridge whose arch was yawning beside them; they circled round against
-the palisade, treading a hundred times in their own footprints; they
-thrust their necks, with their crimson wattles, through the bars; and
-there, with beaks in the open air, they remained until they were
-exhausted.
-
-Remember, inept fowl, the occurrences of a little while ago; think of
-the tunnel which led you hither! If there be in that poor brain of
-yours an atom of capacity, put two ideas together and remind yourself
-that the passage by which you entered is there and open for your
-escape! You will do nothing of the kind. The light, an irresistible
-attraction, holds you subjugated against the palisade; and the shadow
-of the yawning pit, which has but lately permitted you to enter and
-will quite as readily permit of your exit, leaves you indifferent. To
-recognize the use of this opening you would have to reflect a little,
-to evolve the past; but this tiny retrospective calculation is beyond
-your powers. So the trapper, returning a few days later, will find a
-rich booty, the entire flock imprisoned!
-
-Of poor intellectual repute, does the Turkey deserve his name for
-stupidity? He does not appear to be more limited than another. Audubon
-depicts him as endowed with certain useful ruses, in particular when he
-has to baffle the attacks of his nocturnal enemy, the Virginian Owl. As
-for his actions in the snare with the underground passage, any other
-bird, impassioned of the light, would do the same.
-
-Under rather more difficult conditions, the Necrophorus repeats the
-ineptness of the Turkey. When he wishes to return to the open daylight,
-after resting in a short burrow against the rim of the wire cover, the
-Beetle, seeing a little light filtering down through the loose soil,
-reascends by the path of entry, incapable of telling himself that it
-would suffice to prolong the tunnel as far in the opposite direction
-for him to reach the outer world beyond the wall and gain his freedom.
-Here again is one in whom we shall seek in vain for any indication of
-reflection. Like the rest, in spite of his legendary renown, he has no
-guide but the unconscious promptings of instinct.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER 7. THE BLUEBOTTLE.
-
-To purge the earth of death's impurities and cause deceased animal
-matter to be once more numbered among the treasures of life there are
-hosts of sausage-queens, including, in our part of the world, the
-Bluebottle (Calliphora vomitaria, Lin.) and the Grey Flesh-fly
-(Sarcophaga carnaria, Lin.) Every one knows the first, the big,
-dark-blue Fly who, after effecting her designs in the ill-watched
-meat-safe, settles on our window-panes and keeps up a solemn buzzing,
-anxious to be off in the sun and ripen a fresh emission of germs. How
-does she lay her eggs, the origin of the loathsome maggot that battens
-poisonously on our provisions whether of game or butcher's meat? What
-are her stratagems and how can we foil them? This is what I propose to
-investigate.
-
-The Bluebottle frequents our homes during autumn and a part of winter,
-until the cold becomes severe; but her appearance in the fields dates
-back much earlier. On the first fine day in February, we shall see her
-warming herself, chillily, against the sunny walls. In April, I notice
-her in considerable numbers on the laurustinus. It is here that she
-seems to pair, while sipping the sugary exudations of the small white
-flowers. The whole of the summer season is spent out of doors, in brief
-flights from one refreshment-bar to the next. When autumn comes, with
-its game, she makes her way into our houses and remains until the hard
-frosts.
-
-This suits my stay-at-home habits and especially my legs, which are
-bending under the weight of years. I need not run after the subjects of
-my present study; they call on me. Besides, I have vigilant assistants.
-The household knows of my plans. One and all bring me, in a little
-screw of paper, the noisy visitor just captured against the panes.
-
-Thus do I fill my vivarium, which consists of a large, bell-shaped cage
-of wire-gauze, standing in an earthenware pan full of sand. A mug
-containing honey is the dining-room of the establishment. Here the
-captives come to recruit themselves in their hours of leisure. To
-occupy their maternal cares, I employ small birds--Chaffinches,
-Linnets, Sparrows--brought down, in the enclosure, by my son's gun.
-
-I have just served up a Linnet shot two days ago. I next place in the
-cage a Bluebottle, one only, to avoid confusion. Her fat belly
-proclaims the advent of laying-time. An hour later, when the excitement
-of being put in prison is allayed, my captive is in labour. With eager,
-jerky steps, she explores the morsel of game, goes from the head to the
-tail, returns from the tail to the head, repeats the action several
-times and at last settles near an eye, a dimmed eye sunk into its
-socket.
-
-The ovipositor bends at a right angle and dives into the junction of
-the beak, straight down to the root. Then the eggs are emitted for
-nearly half an hour. The layer, utterly absorbed in her serious
-business, remains stationary and impassive and is easily observed
-through my lens. A movement on my part would doubtless scare her; but
-my restful presence gives her no anxiety. I am nothing to her.
-
-The discharge does not go on continuously until the ovaries are
-exhausted; it is intermittent and performed in so many packets. Several
-times over, the Fly leaves the bird's beak and comes to take a rest
-upon the wire-gauze, where she brushes her hind-legs one against the
-other. In particular, before using it again, she cleans, smooths and
-polishes her laying-tool, the probe that places the eggs. Then, feeling
-her womb still teeming, she returns to the same spot at the joint of
-the beak. The delivery is resumed, to cease presently and then begin
-anew. A couple of hours are thus spent in alternate standing near the
-eye and resting on the wire-gauze.
-
-At last it is over. The Fly does not go back to the bird, a proof that
-her ovaries are exhausted. The next day she is dead. The eggs are
-dabbed in a continuous layer, at the entrance to the throat, at the
-root of the tongue, on the membrane of the palate. Their number appears
-considerable; the whole inside of the gullet is white with them. I fix
-a little wooden prop between the two mandibles of the beak, to keep
-them open and enable me to see what happens.
-
-I learn in this way that the hatching takes place in a couple of days.
-As soon as they are born, the young vermin, a swarming mass, leave the
-place where they are and disappear down the throat.
-
-The beak of the bird invaded was closed at the start, as far as the
-natural contact of the mandibles allowed. There remained a narrow slit
-at the base, sufficient at most to admit the passage of a horse-hair.
-It was through this that the laying was performed. Lengthening her
-ovipositor like a telescope, the mother inserted the point of her
-implement, a point slightly hardened with a horny armour. The fineness
-of the probe equals the fineness of the aperture. But, if the beak were
-entirely closed, where would the eggs be laid then?
-
-With a tied thread I keep the two mandibles in absolute contact; and I
-place a second Bluebottle in the presence of the Linnet, whom the
-colonists have already entered by the beak. This time the laying takes
-place on one of the eyes, between the lid and the eyeball. At the
-hatching, which again occurs a couple of days later, the grubs make
-their way into the fleshy depths of the socket. The eyes and the beak,
-therefore, form the two chief entrances into feathered game.
-
-There are others; and these are the wounds. I cover the Linnet's head
-with a paper hood which will prevent invasion through the beak and
-eyes. I serve it, under the wire-gauze bell, to a third egg-layer. The
-bird has been struck by a shot in the breast, but the sore is not
-bleeding: no outer stain marks the injured spot. Moreover, I am careful
-to arrange the feathers, to smooth them with a hair-pencil, so that the
-bird looks quite smart and has every appearance of being untouched.
-
-The Fly is soon there. She inspects the Linnet from end to end; with
-her front tarsi she fumbles at the breast and belly. It is a sort of
-auscultation by sense of touch. The insect becomes aware of what is
-under the feathers by the manner in which these react. If scent lends
-its assistance, it can only be very slightly, for the game is not yet
-high. The wound is soon found. No drop of blood is near it, for it is
-closed by a plug of down rammed into it by the shot. The Fly takes up
-her position without separating the feathers or uncovering the wound.
-She remains here for two hours without stirring, motionless, with her
-abdomen concealed beneath the plumage. My eager curiosity does not
-distract her from her business for a moment.
-
-When she has finished, I take her place. There is nothing either on the
-skin or at the mouth of the wound. I have to withdraw the downy plug
-and dig to some depth before discovering the eggs. The ovipositor has
-therefore lengthened its extensible tube and pushed beyond the feather
-stopper driven in by the lead. The eggs are in one packet; they number
-about three hundred.
-
-When the beak and eyes are rendered inaccessible, when the body,
-moreover, has no wounds, the laying still takes place, but this time in
-a hesitating and niggardly fashion. I pluck the bird completely, the
-better to watch what happens; also, I cover the head with a paper hood
-to close the usual means of access. For a long time, with jerky steps,
-the mother explores the body in every direction; she takes her stand by
-preference on the head, which she sounds by tapping on it with her
-front tarsi. She knows that the openings which she needs are there,
-under the paper; but she also knows how frail are her grubs, how
-powerless to pierce their way through the strange obstacle which stops
-her as well and interferes with the work of her ovipositor. The cowl
-inspires her with profound distrust. Despite the tempting bait of the
-veiled head, not an egg is laid on the wrapper, slight though it may
-be.
-
-Weary of vain attempts to compass this obstacle, the Fly at last
-decides in favour of other points, but not on the breast, belly, or
-back, where the hide would seem too tough and the light too intrusive.
-She needs dark hiding-places, corners where the skin is very delicate.
-The spots chosen are the cavity of the axilla, corresponding with our
-arm-pit, and the crease where the thigh joins the belly. Eggs are laid
-in both places, but not many, showing that the groin and the axilla are
-adopted only reluctantly and for lack of a better spot.
-
-With an unplucked bird, also hooded, the same experiment failed: the
-feathers prevent the Fly from slipping into those deep places. Let us
-add, in conclusion, that, on a skinned bird, or simply on a piece of
-butcher's meat, the laying is effected on any part whatever, provided
-that it be dark. The gloomiest corners are the favourite ones.
-
-It follows from all this that, to lay her eggs, the Bluebottle picks
-out either naked wounds or else the mucous membranes of the mouth or
-eyes, which are not protected by a skin of any thickness. She also
-needs darkness.
-
-The perfect efficiency of the paper bag, which prevents the inroads of
-the worms through the eye-sockets or the beak, suggests a similar
-experiment with the whole bird. It is a matter of wrapping the body in
-a sort of artificial skin which will be as discouraging to the Fly as
-the natural skin. Linnets, some with deep wounds, others almost intact,
-are placed one by one in paper envelopes similar to those in which the
-nursery-gardener keeps his seeds, envelopes just folded, without being
-stuck. The paper is quite ordinary and of middling thickness. Torn
-pieces of newspaper serve the purpose.
-
-These sheaths with the corpses inside them are freely exposed to the
-air, on the table in my study, where they are visited, according to the
-time of day, in dense shade and in bright sunlight. Attracted by the
-effluvia from the dead meat, the Bluebottles haunt my laboratory, the
-windows of which are always open. I see them daily alighting on the
-envelopes and very busily exploring them, apprised of the contents by
-the gamy smell. Their incessant coming and going is a sign of intense
-cupidity; and yet none of them decides to lay on the bags. They do not
-even attempt to slide their ovipositor through the slits of the folds.
-The favourable season passes and not an egg is laid on the tempting
-wrappers. All the mothers abstain, judging the slender obstacle of the
-paper to be more than the vermin will be able to overcome.
-
-This caution on the Fly's part does not at all surprise me: motherhood
-everywhere has great gleams of perspicacity. What does astonish me is
-the following result. The parcels containing the Linnets are left for a
-whole year uncovered on the table; they remain there for a second year
-and a third. I inspect the contents from time to time. The little birds
-are intact, with unrumpled feathers, free from smell, dry and light,
-like mummies. They have become not decomposed, but mummified.
-
-I expected to see them putrefying, running into sanies, like corpses
-left to rot in the open air. On the contrary, the birds have dried and
-hardened, without undergoing any change. What did they want for their
-putrefaction? simply the intervention of the Fly. The maggot,
-therefore, is the primary cause of dissolution after death; it is,
-above all, the putrefactive chemist.
-
-A conclusion not devoid of value may be drawn from my paper game-bags.
-In our markets, especially in those of the South, the game is hung
-unprotected from the hooks on the stalls. Larks strung up by the dozen
-with a wire through their nostrils, Thrushes, Plovers, Teal,
-Partridges, Snipe, in short, all the glories of the spit which the
-autumn migration brings us, remain for days and weeks at the mercy of
-the Flies. The buyer allows himself to be tempted by a goodly exterior;
-he makes his purchase and, back at home, just when the bird is being
-prepared for roasting, he discovers that the promised dainty is alive
-with worms. O horror! There is nothing for it but to throw the
-loathsome, verminous thing away.
-
-The Bluebottle is the culprit here. Everybody knows it, and nobody
-thinks seriously of shaking off her tyranny: not the retailer, nor the
-wholesale dealer, nor the killer of the game. What is wanted to keep
-the maggots out? Hardly anything: to slip each bird into a paper
-sheath. If this precaution were taken at the start, before the Flies
-arrive, any game would be safe and could be left indefinitely to attain
-the degree of ripeness required by the epicure's palate.
-
-Stuffed with olives and myrtleberries, the Corsican Blackbirds are
-exquisite eating. We sometimes receive them at Orange, layers of them,
-packed in baskets through which the air circulates freely and each
-contained in a paper wrapper. They are in a state of perfect
-preservation, complying with the most exacting demands of the kitchen.
-I congratulate the nameless shipper who conceived the bright idea of
-clothing his Blackbirds in paper. Will his example find imitators? I
-doubt it.
-
-There is, of course, a serious objection to this method of
-preservation. In its paper shroud, the article is invisible; it is not
-enticing; it does not inform the passer-by of its nature and qualities.
-There is one resource left which would leave the bird uncovered: simply
-to case the head in a paper cap. The head being the part most menaced,
-because of the mucous membrane of the throat and eyes, it would be
-enough, as a rule, to protect the head, in order to keep off the Flies
-and thwart their attempts.
-
-Let us continue to study the Bluebottle, while varying our means of
-information. A tin, about four inches deep, contains a piece of
-butcher's meat. The lid is not put in quite straight and leaves a
-narrow slit at one point of its circumference, allowing, at most, of
-the passage of a fine needle. When the bait begins to give off a gamy
-scent, the mothers come, singly or in numbers. They are attracted by
-the odour which, transmitted through a thin crevice, hardly reaches my
-nostrils.
-
-They explore the metal receptacle for some time, seeking an entrance.
-Finding naught that enables them to reach the coveted morsel, they
-decide to lay their eggs on the tin, just beside the aperture.
-Sometimes, when the width of the passage allows of it, they insert the
-ovipositor into the tin and lay the eggs inside, on the very edge of
-the slit. Whether outside or in, the eggs are dabbed down in a fairly
-regular and absolutely white layer.
-
-We have seen the Bluebottle refusing to lay her eggs on the paper bag,
-notwithstanding the carrion fumes of the Linnet enclosed; yet now,
-without hesitation, she lays them on a sheet of metal. Can the nature
-of the floor make any difference to her? I replace the tin lid by a
-paper cover stretched and pasted over the orifice. With the point of my
-knife I make a narrow slit in this new lid. That is quite enough: the
-parent accepts the paper.
-
-What determined her, therefore, is not simply the smell, which can
-easily be perceived even through the uncut paper, but, above all, the
-crevice, which will provide an entrance for the vermin, hatched
-outside, near the narrow passage. The maggots' mother has her own
-logic, her prudent foresight. She knows how feeble her wee grubs will
-be, how powerless to cut their way through an obstacle of any
-resistance; and so, despite the temptation of the smell, she refrains
-from laying, so long as she finds no entrance through which the
-new-born worms can slip unaided.
-
-I wanted to know whether the colour, the shininess, the degree of
-hardness and other qualities of the obstacle would influence the
-decision of a mother obliged to lay her eggs under exceptional
-conditions. With this object in view, I employed small jars, each
-baited with a bit of butcher's meat. The respective lids were made of
-different- paper, of oil-skin, or of some of that tin-foil,
-with its gold or coppery sheen, which is used for sealing
-liqueur-bottles. On not one of these covers did the mothers stop, with
-any desire to deposit their eggs; but, from the moment that the knife
-had made the narrow slit, all the lids were, sooner or later, visited
-and all, sooner or later, received the white shower somewhere near the
-gash. The look of the obstacle, therefore, does not count; dull or
-brilliant, drab or : these are details of no importance; the
-thing that matters is that there should be a passage to allow the grubs
-to enter.
-
-Though hatched outside, at a distance from the coveted morsel, the
-new-born worms are well able to find their refectory. As they release
-themselves from the egg, without hesitation, so accurate is their
-scent, they slip beneath the edge of the ill-joined lid, or through the
-passage cut by the knife. Behold them entering upon their promised
-land, their reeking paradise.
-
-Eager to arrive, do they drop from the top of the wall? Not they!
-Slowly creeping, they make their way down the side of the jar; they use
-their fore-part, ever in quest of information, as a crutch and grapnel
-in one. They reach the meat and at once instal themselves upon it.
-
-Let us continue our investigation, varying the conditions. A large
-test-tube, measuring nine inches high, is baited at the bottom with a
-lump of butcher's meat. It is closed with wire-gauze, whose meshes, two
-millimetres wide (.078 inch.--Translator's Note.), do not permit of the
-Fly's passage. The Bluebottle comes to my apparatus, guided by scent
-rather than sight. She hastens to the test-tube, whose contents are
-veiled under an opaque cover, with the same alacrity as to the open
-tube. The invisible attracts her quite as much as the visible.
-
-She stays awhile on the lattice of the mouth, inspects it attentively;
-but, whether because circumstances failed to serve me, or because the
-wire network inspired her with distrust, I never saw her dab her eggs
-upon it for certain. As her evidence was doubtful, I had recourse to
-the Flesh-fly (Sarcophaga carnaria).
-
-This Fly is less finicking in her preparations, she has more faith in
-the strength of her worms, which are born ready-formed and vigorous,
-and easily shows me what I wish to see. She explores the trellis-work,
-chooses a mesh through which she inserts the tip of her abdomen, and,
-undisturbed by my presence, emits, one after the other, a certain
-number of grubs, about ten or so. True, her visits will be repeated,
-increasing the family at a rate of which I am ignorant.
-
-The new-born worms, thanks to a slight viscidity, cling for a moment to
-the wire-gauze; they swarm, wriggle, release themselves and leap into
-the chasm. It is a nine-inch drop at least. When this is done, the
-mother makes off, knowing for a certainty that her offspring will shift
-for themselves. If they fall on the meat, well and good; if they fall
-elsewhere, they can reach the morsel by crawling.
-
-This confidence in the unknown factor of the precipice, with no
-indication but that of smell, deserves fuller investigation. From what
-height will the Flesh-fly dare to let her children drop? I top the
-test-tube with another tube, the width of the neck of a claret-bottle.
-The mouth is closed either with wire-gauze or with a paper cover with a
-slight cut in it. Altogether, the apparatus measures twenty-five inches
-in height. No matter: the fall is not serious for the lithe backs of
-the young grubs; and, in a few days, the test-tube is filled with
-larvae, in which it is easy to recognize the Flesh-fly's family by the
-fringed coronet that opens and shuts at the maggot's stern like the
-petals of a little flower. I did not see the mother operating: I was
-not there at the time; but there is no doubt possible of her coming,
-nor of the great dive taken by the family: the contents of the
-test-tube furnish me with a duly authenticated certificate.
-
-I admire the leap and, to obtain one better still, I replace the tube
-by another, so that the apparatus now stands forty-six inches high. The
-column is erected at a spot frequented by Flies, in a dim light. Its
-mouth, closed with a wire-gauze cover, reaches the level of various
-other appliances, test-tubes and jars, which are already stocked or
-awaiting their colony of vermin. When the position is well-known to the
-Flies, I remove the other tubes and leave the column, lest the visitors
-should turn aside to easier ground.
-
-From time to time the Bluebottle and the Flesh-fly perch on the
-trellis-work, make a short investigation and then decamp. Throughout
-the summer season, for three whole months, the apparatus remains where
-it is, without result: never a worm. What is the reason? Does the
-stench of the meat not spread, coming from that depth? Certainly it
-spreads: it is unmistakable to my dulled nostrils and still more so to
-the nostrils of my children, whom I call to bear witness. Then why does
-the Flesh-fly, who but now was dropping her grubs from a goodly height,
-refuse to let them fall from the top of a column twice as high? Does
-she fear lest her worms should be bruised by an excessive drop? There
-is nothing about her to point to anxiety aroused by the length of the
-shaft. I never see her explore the tube or take its size. She stands on
-the trellised orifice; and there the matter ends. Can she be apprised
-of the depth of the chasm by the comparative faintness of the offensive
-odours that arise from it? Can the sense of smell measure the distance
-and judge whether it be acceptable or not? Perhaps.
-
-The fact remains that, despite the attraction of the scent, the
-Flesh-fly does not expose her worms to disproportionate falls. Can she
-know beforehand that, when the chrysalids break, her winged family,
-knocking with a sudden flight against the sides of a tall chimney, will
-be unable to get out? This foresight would be in agreement with the
-rules which order maternal instinct according to future needs.
-
-But, when the fall does not exceed a certain depth, the budding worms
-of the Flesh-fly are dropped without a qualm, as all our experiments
-show. This principle has a practical application which is not without
-its value in matters of domestic economy. It is as well that the
-wonders of entomology should sometimes give us a hint of commonplace
-utility.
-
-The usual meat-safe is a sort of large cage with a top and bottom of
-wood and four wire-gauze sides. Hooks fixed into the top are used
-whereby to hang pieces which we wish to protect from the Flies. Often,
-so as to employ the space to the best advantage, these pieces are
-simply laid on the floor of the cage. With these arrangements, are we
-sure of warding off the Fly and her vermin?
-
-Not at all. We may protect ourselves against the Bluebottle, who is not
-much inclined to lay her eggs at a distance from the meat; but there is
-still the Flesh-fly, who is more venturesome and goes more briskly to
-work and who will slip the grubs through a hole in the meshes and drop
-them inside the safe. Agile as they are and well able to crawl, the
-worms will easily reach anything on the floor; the only things secure
-from their attacks will be the pieces hanging from the ceiling. It is
-not in the nature of maggots to explore the heights, especially if this
-implies climbing down a string in addition.
-
-People also use wire-gauze dish-covers. The trellised dome protects the
-contents even less than does the meat-safe. The Flesh-fly takes no heed
-of it. She can drop her worms through the meshes on the covered joint.
-
-Then what are we to do? Nothing could be simpler. We need only wrap the
-birds which we wish to preserve--Thrushes, Partridges, Snipe and so
-on--in separate paper envelopes; and the same with our beef and mutton.
-This defensive armour alone, while leaving ample room for the air to
-circulate, makes any invasion by the worms impossible; even without a
-cover or a meat-safe: not that paper possesses any special preservative
-virtues, but solely because it forms an impenetrable barrier. The
-Bluebottle carefully refrains from laying her eggs upon it and the
-Flesh-fly from bringing forth her offspring, both of them knowing that
-their new-born young are incapable of piercing the obstacle.
-
-Paper is equally successful in our strife against the Moths, those
-plagues of our furs and clothes. To keep away these wholesale ravagers,
-people generally use camphor, naphthalene, tobacco, bunches of
-lavender, and other strong-scented remedies. Without wishing to malign
-those preservatives, we are bound to admit that the means employed are
-none too effective. The smell does very little to prevent the havoc of
-the Moths.
-
-I would therefore advise our housewives, instead of all this chemist's
-stuff, to use newspapers of a suitable shape and size. Take whatever
-you wish to protect--your furs, your flannel, or your clothes--and pack
-each article carefully in a newspaper, joining the edges with a double
-fold, well pinned. If this joining is properly done, the Moth will
-never get inside. Since my advice has been taken and this method
-employed in my household, the old damage has no longer been repeated.
-
-To return to the Fly. A piece of meat is hidden in a jar under a layer
-of fine, dry sand, a finger's-breadth thick. The jar has a wide mouth
-and is left quite open. Let whoso come that will, attracted by the
-smell. The Bluebottles are not long in inspecting what I have prepared
-for them: they enter the jar, go out and come back again, inquiring
-into the invisible thing revealed by its fragrance. A diligent watch
-enables me to see them fussing about, exploring the sandy expanse,
-tapping it with their feet, sounding it with their proboscis. I leave
-the visitors undisturbed for a fortnight or three weeks. None of them
-lays any eggs.
-
-This is a repetition of what the paper bag, with its dead bird, showed
-me. The Flies refuse to lay on the sand, apparently for the same
-reasons. The paper was considered an obstacle which the frail vermin
-would not be able to overcome. With sand, the case is worse. Its
-grittiness would hurt the new-born weaklings, its dryness would absorb
-the moisture indispensable to their movements. Later, when preparing
-for the metamorphosis, when their strength has come to them, the grubs
-will dig the earth quite well and be able to descend: but, at the
-start, that would be very dangerous for them. Knowing these
-difficulties, the mothers, however greatly tempted by the smell,
-abstain from breeding. As a matter of fact, after long waiting, fearing
-lest some packets of eggs may have escaped my attention, I inspect the
-contents of the jar from top to bottom. Meat and sand contain neither
-larvae nor pupae: the whole is absolutely deserted.
-
-The layer of sand being only a finger's-breadth thick, this experiment
-requires certain precautions. The meat may expand a little, in going
-bad, and protrude in one or two places. However small the fleshy eyots
-that show above the surface, the Flies come to them and breed.
-Sometimes also the juices oozing from the putrid meat soak a small
-extent of the sandy floor. That is enough for the maggot's first
-establishment. These causes of failure are avoided with a layer of sand
-about an inch thick. Then the Bluebottle, the Flesh-fly, and other
-Flies whose grubs batten on dead bodies are kept at a proper distance.
-
-In the hope of awakening us to a proper sense of our insignificance,
-pulpit orators sometimes make an unfair use of the grave and its worms.
-Let us put no faith in their doleful rhetoric. The chemistry of man's
-final dissolution is eloquent enough of our emptiness: there is no need
-to add imaginary horrors. The worm of the sepulchre is an invention of
-cantankerous minds, incapable of seeing things as they are. Covered by
-but a few inches of earth, the dead can sleep their quiet sleep: no Fly
-will ever come to take advantage of them.
-
-At the surface of the soil, exposed to the air, the hideous invasion is
-possible; aye, it is the invariable rule. For the melting down and
-remoulding of matter, man is no better, corpse for corpse, than the
-lowest of the brutes. Then the Fly exercises her rights and deals with
-us as she does with any ordinary animal refuse. Nature treats us with
-magnificent indifference in her great regenerating factory: placed in
-her crucibles, animals and men, beggars and kings are 1 and all alike.
-There you have true equality, the only equality in this world of ours:
-equality in the presence of the maggot.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER 8. THE PINE-PROCESSIONARY.
-
-Drover Dingdong's Sheep followed the Ram which Panurge had maliciously
-thrown overboard and leapt nimbly into the sea, one after the other,
-"for you know," says Rabelais, "it is the nature of the sheep always to
-follow the first, wheresoever it goes."
-
-The Pine caterpillar is even more sheeplike, not from foolishness, but
-from necessity: where the first goes all the others go, in a regular
-string, with not an empty space between them.
-
-They proceed in single file, in a continuous row, each touching with
-its head the rear of the one in front of it. The complex twists and
-turns described in his vagaries by the caterpillar leading the van are
-scrupulously described by all the others. No Greek theoria winding its
-way to the Eleusinian festivals was ever more orderly. Hence the name
-of Processionary given to the gnawer of the pine.
-
-His character is complete when we add that he is a rope-dancer all his
-life long: he walks only on the tight-rope, a silken rail placed in
-position as he advances. The caterpillar who chances to be at the head
-of the procession dribbles his thread without ceasing and fixes it on
-the path which his fickle preferences cause him to take. The thread is
-so tiny that the eye, though armed with a magnifying-glass, suspects it
-rather than sees it.
-
-But a second caterpillar steps on the slender foot-board and doubles it
-with his thread; a third trebles it; and all the others, however many
-there be, add the sticky spray from their spinnerets, so much so that,
-when the procession has marched by, there remains, as a record of its
-passing, a narrow white ribbon whose dazzling whiteness shimmers in the
-sun. Very much more sumptuous than ours, their system of road-making
-consists in upholstering with silk instead of macadamizing. We sprinkle
-our roads with broken stones and level them by the pressure of a heavy
-steam-roller; they lay over their paths a soft satin rail, a work of
-general interest to which each contributes his thread.
-
-What is the use of all this luxury? Could they not, like other
-caterpillars, walk about without these costly preparations? I see two
-reasons for their mode of progression. It is night when the
-Processionaries sally forth to browse upon the pine-leaves. They leave
-their nest, situated at the top of a bough, in profound darkness; they
-go down the denuded pole till they come to the nearest branch that has
-not yet been gnawed, a branch which becomes lower and lower by degrees
-as the consumers finish stripping the upper storeys; they climb up this
-untouched branch and spread over the green needles.
-
-When they have had their suppers and begin to feel the keen night air,
-the next thing is to return to the shelter of the house. Measured in a
-straight line, the distance is not great, hardly an arm's length; but
-it cannot be covered in this way on foot. The caterpillars have to
-climb down from one crossing to the next, from the needle to the twig,
-from the twig to the branch, from the branch to the bough and from the
-bough, by a no less angular path, to go back home. It is useless to
-rely upon sight as a guide on this long and erratic journey. The
-Processionary, it is true, has five ocular specks on either side of his
-head, but they are so infinitesimal, so difficult to make out through
-the magnifying-glass, that we cannot attribute to them any great power
-of vision. Besides, what good would those short-sighted lenses be in
-the absence of light, in black darkness?
-
-It is equally useless to think of the sense of smell. Has the
-Processional any olfactory powers or has he not? I do not know. Without
-giving a positive answer to the question, I can at least declare that
-his sense of smell is exceedingly dull and in no way suited to help him
-find his way. This is proved, in my experiments, by a number of hungry
-caterpillars that, after a long fast, pass close beside a pine-branch
-without betraying any eagerness of showing a sign of stopping. It is
-the sense of touch that tells them where they are. So long as their
-lips do not chance to light upon the pasture-land, not one of them
-settles there, though he be ravenous. They do not hasten to food which
-they have scented from afar; they stop at a branch which they encounter
-on their way.
-
-Apart from sight and smell, what remains to guide them in returning to
-the nest? The ribbon spun on the road. In the Cretan labyrinth, Theseus
-would have been lost but for the clue of thread with which Ariadne
-supplied him. The spreading maze of the pine-needles is, especially at
-night, as inextricable a labyrinth as that constructed for Minos. The
-Processionary finds his way through it, without the possibility of a
-mistake, by the aid of his bit of silk. At the time for going home,
-each easily recovers either his own thread or one or other of the
-neighbouring threads, spread fanwise by the diverging herd; one by one
-the scattered tribe line up on the common ribbon, which started from
-the nest; and the sated caravan finds its way back to the manor with
-absolute certainty.
-
-Longer expeditions are made in the daytime, even in winter, if the
-weather be fine. Our caterpillars then come down from the tree, venture
-on the ground, march in procession for a distance of thirty yards or
-so. The object of these sallies is not to look for food, for the native
-pine-tree is far from being exhausted: the shorn branches hardly count
-amid the vast leafage. Moreover, the caterpillars observe complete
-abstinence till nightfall. The trippers have no other object than a
-constitutional, a pilgrimage to the outskirts to see what these are
-like, possibly an inspection of the locality where, later on, they mean
-to bury themselves in the sand for their metamorphosis.
-
-It goes without saying that, in these greater evolutions, the guiding
-cord is not neglected. It is now more necessary than ever. All
-contribute to it from the produce of their spinnerets, as is the
-invariable rule whenever there is a progression. Not one takes a step
-forward without fixing to the path the thread from his lips.
-
-If the series forming the procession be at all long, the ribbon is
-dilated sufficiently to make it easy to find; nevertheless, on the
-homeward journey, it is not picked up without some hesitation. For
-observe that the caterpillars when on the march never turn completely;
-to wheel round on their tight-rope is a method utterly unknown to them.
-In order therefore to regain the road already covered, they have to
-describe a zigzag whose windings and extent are determined by the
-leader's fancy. Hence come gropings and roamings which are sometimes
-prolonged to the point of causing the herd to spend the night out of
-doors. It is not a serious matter. They collect into a motionless
-cluster. To-morrow the search will start afresh and will sooner or
-later be successful. Oftener still the winding curve meets the
-guide-thread at the first attempt. As soon as the first caterpillar has
-the rail between his legs, all hesitation ceases; and the band makes
-for the nest with hurried steps.
-
-The use of this silk-tapestried roadway is evident from a second point
-of view. To protect himself against the severity of the winter which he
-has to face when working, the Pine Caterpillar weaves himself a shelter
-in which he spends his bad hours, his days of enforced idleness. Alone,
-with none but the meagre resources of his silk-glands, he would find
-difficulty in protecting himself on the top of a branch buffeted by the
-winds. A substantial dwelling, proof against snow, gales and icy fogs,
-requires the cooperation of a large number. Out of the individual's
-piled-up atoms, the community obtains a spacious and durable
-establishment.
-
-The enterprise takes a long time to complete. Every evening, when the
-weather permits, the building has to be strengthened and enlarged. It
-is indispensable, therefore, that the corporation of workers should not
-be dissolved while the stormy season continues and the insects are
-still in the caterpillar stage. But, without special arrangements, each
-nocturnal expedition at grazing-time would be a cause of separation. At
-that moment of appetite for food there is a return to individualism.
-The caterpillars become more or less scattered, settling singly on the
-branches around; each browses his pine-needle separately. How are they
-to find one another afterwards and become a community again?
-
-The several threads left on the road make this easy. With that guide,
-every caterpillar, however far he may be, comes back to his companions
-without ever missing the way. They come hurrying from a host of twigs,
-from here, from there, from above, from below; and soon the scattered
-legion reforms into a group. The silk thread is something more than a
-road-making expedient: it is the social bond, the system that keeps the
-members of the brotherhood indissolubly united.
-
-At the head of every procession, long or short, goes a first
-caterpillar whom I will call the leader of the march or file, though
-the word leader, which I use for the want of a better, is a little out
-of place here. Nothing, in fact, distinguishes this caterpillar from
-the others: it just depends upon the order in which they happen to line
-up; and mere chance brings him to the front. Among the Processionaries,
-every captain is an officer of fortune. The actual leader leads;
-presently he will be a subaltern, if the line should break up in
-consequence of some accident and be formed anew in a different order.
-
-His temporary functions give him an attitude of his own. While the
-others follow passively in a close file, he, the captain, tosses
-himself about and with an abrupt movement flings the front of his body
-hither and thither. As he marches ahead he seems to be seeking his way.
-Does he in point of fact explore the country? Does he choose the most
-practicable places? Or are his hesitations merely the result of the
-absence of a guiding thread on ground that has not yet been covered?
-His subordinates follow very placidly, reassured by the cord which they
-hold between their legs; he, deprived of that support, is uneasy.
-
-Why cannot I read what passes under his black, shiny skull, so like a
-drop of tar to look at? To judge by actions, there is here a modicum of
-discernment which is able, after experimenting, to recognize excessive
-roughnesses, over-slippery surfaces, dusty places that offer no
-resistance and, above all, the threads left by other excursionists.
-This is all or nearly all that my long acquaintance with the
-Processionaries has taught me as to their mentality. Poor brains,
-indeed; poor creatures, whose commonwealth has its safety hanging upon
-a thread!
-
-The processions vary greatly in length. The finest that I have seen
-manoeuvring on the ground measured twelve or thirteen yards and
-numbered about three hundred caterpillars, drawn up with absolute
-precision in a wavy line. But, if there were only two in a row the
-order would still be perfect: the second touches and follows the first.
-
-By February I have processions of all lengths in the greenhouse. What
-tricks can I play upon them? I see only two: to do away with the
-leader; and to cut the thread.
-
-The suppression of the leader of the file produces nothing striking. If
-the thing is done without creating a disturbance, the procession does
-not alter its ways at all. The second caterpillar, promoted to captain,
-knows the duties of his rank off-hand: he selects and leads, or rather
-he hesitates and gropes.
-
-The breaking of the silk ribbon is not very important either. I remove
-a caterpillar from the middle of the file. With my scissors, so as not
-to cause a commotion in the ranks, I cut the piece of ribbon on which
-he stood and clear away every thread of it. As a result of this breach,
-the procession acquires two marching leaders, each independent of the
-other. It may be that the one in the rear joins the file ahead of him,
-from which he is separated by but a slender interval; in that case,
-things return to their original condition. More frequently, the two
-parts do not become reunited. In that case, we have two distinct
-processions, each of which wanders where it pleases and diverges from
-the other. Nevertheless, both will be able to return to the nest by
-discovering sooner or later, in the course of their peregrinations, the
-ribbon on the other side of the break.
-
-These two experiments are only moderately interesting. I have thought
-out another, one more fertile in possibilities. I propose to make the
-caterpillars describe a close circuit, after the ribbons running from
-it and liable to bring about a change of direction have been destroyed.
-The locomotive engine pursues its invariable course so long as it is
-not shunted on to a branch-line. If the Processionaries find the silken
-rail always clear in front of them, with no switches anywhere, will
-they continue on the same track, will they persist in following a road
-that never comes to an end? What we have to do is to produce this
-circuit, which is unknown under ordinary conditions, by artificial
-means.
-
-The first idea that suggests itself is to seize with the forceps the
-silk ribbon at the back of the train, to bend it without shaking it and
-to bring the end of it ahead of the file. If the caterpillar marching
-in the van steps upon it, the thing is done: the others will follow him
-faithfully. The operation is very simple in theory but most difficult
-in practice and produces no useful results. The ribbon, which is
-extremely slight, breaks under the weight of the grains of sand that
-stick to it and are lifted with it. If it does not break, the
-caterpillars at the back, however delicately we may go to work, feel a
-disturbance which makes them curl up or even let go.
-
-There is a yet greater difficulty: the leader refuses the ribbon laid
-before him; the cut end makes him distrustful. Failing to see the
-regular, uninterrupted road, he slants off to the right or left, he
-escapes at a tangent. If I try to interfere and to bring him back to
-the path of my choosing, he persists in his refusal, shrivels up, does
-not budge, and soon the whole procession is in confusion. We will not
-insist: the method is a poor one, very wasteful of effort for at best a
-problematical success.
-
-We ought to interfere as little as possible and obtain a natural closed
-circuit. Can it be done? Yes. It lies in our power, without the least
-meddling, to see a procession march along a perfect circular track. I
-owe this result, which is eminently deserving of our attention, to pure
-chance.
-
-On the shelf with the layer of sand in which the nests are planted
-stand some big palm-vases measuring nearly a yard and a half in
-circumference at the top. The caterpillars often scale the sides and
-climb up to the moulding which forms a cornice around the opening. This
-place suits them for their processions, perhaps because of the absolute
-firmness of the surface, where there is no fear of landslides, as on
-the loose, sandy soil below; and also, perhaps, because of the
-horizontal position, which is favourable to repose after the fatigue of
-the ascent. It provides me with a circular track all ready-made. I have
-nothing to do but wait for an occasion propitious to my plans. This
-occasion is not long in coming.
-
-On the 30th of January, 1896, a little before twelve o'clock in the
-day, I discover a numerous troop making their way up and gradually
-reaching the popular cornice. Slowly, in single file, the caterpillars
-climb the great vase, mount the ledge and advance in regular
-procession, while others are constantly arriving and continuing the
-series. I wait for the string to close up, that is to say, for the
-leader, who keeps following the circular moulding, to return to the
-point from which he started. My object is achieved in a quarter of an
-hour. The closed circuit is realized magnificently, in something very
-nearly approaching a circle.
-
-The next thing is to get rid of the rest of the ascending column, which
-would disturb the fine order of the procession by an excess of
-newcomers; it is also important that we should do away with all the
-silken paths, both new and old, that can put the cornice into
-communication with the ground. With a thick hair-pencil I sweep away
-the surplus climbers; with a big brush, one that leaves no smell behind
-it--for this might afterwards prove confusing--I carefully rub down the
-vase and get rid of every thread which the caterpillars have laid on
-the march. When these preparations are finished, a curious sight awaits
-us.
-
-In the interrupted circular procession there is no longer a leader.
-Each caterpillar is preceded by another on whose heels he follows
-guided by the silk track, the work of the whole party; he again has a
-companion close behind him, following him in the same orderly way. And
-this is repeated without variation throughout the length of the chain.
-None commands, or rather none modifies the trail according to his
-fancy; all obey, trusting in the guide who ought normally to lead the
-march and who in reality has been abolished by my trickery.
-
-From the first circuit of the edge of the tub the rail of silk has been
-laid in position and is soon turned into a narrow ribbon by the
-procession, which never ceases dribbling its thread as it goes. The
-rail is simply doubled and has no branches anywhere, for my brush has
-destroyed them all. What will the caterpillars do on this deceptive,
-closed path? Will they walk endlessly round and round until their
-strength gives out entirely?
-
-The old schoolmen were fond of quoting Buridan's Ass, that famous
-Donkey who, when placed between two bundles of hay, starved to death
-because he was unable to decide in favour of either by breaking the
-equilibrium between two equal but opposite attractions. They slandered
-the worthy animal. The Ass, who is no more foolish than any one else,
-would reply to the logical snare by feasting off both bundles. Will my
-caterpillars show a little of his mother wit? Will they, after many
-attempts, be able to break the equilibrium of their closed circuit,
-which keeps them on a road without a turning? Will they make up their
-minds to swerve to this side or that, which is the only method of
-reaching their bundle of hay, the green branch yonder, quite near, not
-two feet off?
-
-I thought that they would and I was wrong. I said to myself:
-
-"The procession will go on turning for some time, for an hour, two
-hours, perhaps; then the caterpillars will perceive their mistake. They
-will abandon the deceptive road and make their descent somewhere or
-other."
-
-That they should remain up there, hard pressed by hunger and the lack
-of cover, when nothing prevented them from going away, seemed to me
-inconceivable imbecility. Facts, however, forced me to accept the
-incredible. Let us describe them in detail.
-
-The circular procession begins, as I have said, on the 30th of January,
-about midday, in splendid weather. The caterpillars march at an even
-pace, each touching the stern of the one in front of him. The unbroken
-chain eliminates the leader with his changes of direction; and all
-follow mechanically, as faithful to their circle as are the hands of a
-watch. The headless file has no liberty left, no will; it has become
-mere clockwork. And this continues for hours and hours. My success goes
-far beyond my wildest suspicions. I stand amazed at it, or rather I am
-stupefied.
-
-Meanwhile, the multiplied circuits change the original rail into a
-superb ribbon a twelfth of an inch broad. I can easily see it
-glittering on the red ground of the pot. The day is drawing to a close
-and no alteration has yet taken place in the position of the trail. A
-striking proof confirms this.
-
-The trajectory is not a plane curve, but one which, at a certain point,
-deviates and goes down a little way to the lower surface of the
-cornice, returning to the top some eight inches farther. I marked these
-two points of deviation in pencil on the vase at the outset. Well, all
-that afternoon and, more conclusive still, on the following days, right
-to the end of this mad dance, I see the string of caterpillars dip
-under the ledge at the first point and come to the top again at the
-second. Once the first thread is laid, the road to be pursued is
-permanently established.
-
-If the road does not vary, the speed does. I measure nine centimetres
-(3 1/2 inches.--Translator's Note.) a minute as the average distance
-covered. But there are more or less lengthy halts; the pace slackens at
-times, especially when the temperature falls. At ten o'clock in the
-evening the walk is little more than a lazy swaying of the body. I
-foresee an early halt, in consequence of the cold, of fatigue and
-doubtless also of hunger.
-
-Grazing-time has arrived. The caterpillars have come crowding from all
-the nests in the greenhouse to browse upon the pine-branches planted by
-myself beside the silken purses. Those in the garden do the same, for
-the temperature is mild. The others, lined up along the earthenware
-cornice, would gladly take part in the feast; they are bound to have an
-appetite after a ten hours' walk. The branch stands green and tempting
-not a hand's-breadth away. To reach it they need but go down; and the
-poor wretches, foolish slaves of their ribbon that they are, cannot
-make up their minds to do so. I leave the famished ones at half-past
-ten, persuaded that they will take counsel with their pillow and that
-on the morrow things will have resumed their ordinary course.
-
-I was wrong. I was expecting too much of them when I accorded them that
-faint gleam of intelligence which the tribulations of a distressful
-stomach ought, one would think, to have aroused. I visit them at dawn.
-They are lined up as on the day before, but motionless. When the air
-grows a little warmer, they shake off their torpor, revive and start
-walking again. The circular procession begins anew, like that which I
-have already seen. There is nothing more and nothing less to be noted
-in their machine-like obstinacy.
-
-This time it is a bitter night. A cold snap has supervened, was indeed
-foretold in the evening by the garden caterpillars, who refused to come
-out despite appearances which to my duller senses seemed to promise a
-continuation of the fine weather. At daybreak the rosemary-walks are
-all asparkle with rime and for the second time this year there is a
-sharp frost. The large pond in the garden is frozen over. What can the
-caterpillars in the conservatory be doing? Let us go and see.
-
-All are ensconced in their nests, except the stubborn processionists on
-the edge of the vase, who, deprived of shelter as they are, seem to
-have spent a very bad night. I find them clustered in two heaps,
-without any attempt at order. They have suffered less from the cold,
-thus huddled together.
-
-'Tis an ill wind that blows nobody any good. The severity of the night
-has caused the ring to break into two segments which will, perhaps,
-afford a chance of safety. Each group, as it survives and resumes its
-walk, will presently be headed by a leader who, not being obliged to
-follow a caterpillar in front of him, will possess some liberty of
-movement and perhaps be able to make the procession swerve to one side.
-Remember that, in the ordinary processions, the caterpillar walking
-ahead acts as a scout. While the others, if nothing occurs to create
-excitement, keep to their ranks, he attends to his duties as a leader
-and is continually turning his head to this side and that,
-investigating, seeking, groping, making his choice. And things happen
-as he decides: the band follows him faithfully. Remember also that,
-even on a road which has already been travelled and beribboned, the
-guiding caterpillar continues to explore.
-
-There is reason to believe that the Processionaries who have lost their
-way on the ledge will find a chance of safety here. Let us watch them.
-On recovering from their torpor, the two groups line up by degrees into
-two distinct files. There are therefore two leaders, free to go where
-they please, independent of each other. Will they succeed in leaving
-the enchanted circle? At the sight of their large black heads swaying
-anxiously from side to side, I am inclined to think so for a moment.
-But I am soon undeceived. As the ranks fill out, the two sections of
-the chain meet and the circle is reconstituted. The momentary leaders
-once more become simple subordinates; and again the caterpillars march
-round and round all day.
-
-For the second time in succession, the night, which is very calm and
-magnificently starry, brings a hard frost. In the morning the
-Processionaries on the tub, the only ones who have camped unsheltered,
-are gathered into a heap which largely overflows both sides of the
-fatal ribbon. I am present at the awakening of the numbed ones. The
-first to take the road is, as luck will have it, outside the track.
-Hesitatingly he ventures into unknown ground. He reaches the top of the
-rim and descends upon the other side on the earth in the vase. He is
-followed by six others, no more. Perhaps the rest of the troop, who
-have not fully recovered from their nocturnal torpor, are too lazy to
-bestir themselves.
-
-The result of this brief delay is a return to the old track. The
-caterpillars embark on the silken trail and the circular march is
-resumed, this time in the form of a ring with a gap in it. There is no
-attempt, however, to strike a new course on the part of the guide whom
-this gap has placed at the head. A chance of stepping outside the magic
-circle has presented itself at last; and he does not know how to avail
-himself of it.
-
-As for the caterpillars who have made their way to the inside of the
-vase, their lot is hardly improved. They climb to the top of the palm,
-starving and seeking for food. Finding nothing to eat that suits them,
-they retrace their steps by following the thread which they have left
-on the way, climb the ledge of the pot, strike the procession again
-and, without further anxiety, slip back into the ranks. Once more the
-ring is complete, once more the circle turns and turns.
-
-Then when will the deliverance come? There is a legend that tells of
-poor souls dragged along in an endless round until the hellish charm is
-broken by a drop of holy water. What drop will good fortune sprinkle on
-my Processionaries to dissolve their circle and bring them back to the
-nest? I see only two means of conjuring the spell and obtaining a
-release from the circuit. These two means are two painful ordeals. A
-strange linking of cause and effect: from sorrow and wretchedness good
-is to come.
-
-And, first, shriveling as the result of cold, the caterpillars gather
-together without any order, heap themselves some on the path, some,
-more numerous these, outside it. Among the latter there may be, sooner
-or later, some revolutionary who, scorning the beaten track, will trace
-out a new road and lead the troop back home. We have just seen an
-instance of it. Seven penetrated to the interior of the vase and
-climbed the palm. True, it was an attempt with no result but still an
-attempt. For complete success, all that need be done would have been to
-take the opposite <DW72>. An even chance is a great thing. Another time
-we shall be more successful.
-
-In the second place, the exhaustion due to fatigue and hunger. A lame
-one stops, unable to go farther. In front of the defaulter the
-procession still continues to wend its way for a short time. The ranks
-close up and an empty space appears. On coming to himself and resuming
-the march, the caterpillar who has caused the breach becomes a leader,
-having nothing before him. The least desire for emancipation is all
-that he wants to make him launch the band into a new path which perhaps
-will be the saving path.
-
-In short, when the Processionaries' train is in difficulties, what it
-needs, unlike ours, is to run off the rails. The side-tracking is left
-to the caprice of a leader who alone is capable of turning to the right
-or left; and this leader is absolutely non-existent so long as the ring
-remains unbroken. Lastly, the breaking of the circle, the one stroke of
-luck, is the result of a chaotic halt, caused principally by excess of
-fatigue or cold.
-
-The liberating accident, especially that of fatigue, occurs fairly
-often. In the course of the same day, the moving circumference is cut
-up several times into two or three sections; but continuity soon
-returns and no change takes place. Things go on just the same. The bold
-innovator who is to save the situation has not yet had his inspiration.
-
-There is nothing new on the fourth day, after an icy night like the
-previous one; nothing to tell except the following detail. Yesterday I
-did not remove the trace left by the few caterpillars who made their
-way to the inside of the vase. This trace, together with a junction
-connecting it with the circular road, is discovered in the course of
-the morning. Half the troop takes advantage of it to visit the earth in
-the pot and climb the palm; the other half remains on the ledge and
-continues to walk along the old rail. In the afternoon the band of
-emigrants rejoins the others, the circuit is completed and things
-return to their original condition.
-
-We come to the fifth day. The night frost becomes more intense, without
-however as yet reaching the greenhouse. It is followed by bright
-sunshine in a calm and limpid sky. As soon as the sun's rays have
-warmed the panes a little, the caterpillars, lying in heaps, wake up
-and resume their evolutions on the ledge of the vase. This time the
-fine order of the beginning is disturbed and a certain disorder becomes
-manifest, apparently an omen of deliverance near at hand. The
-scouting-path inside the vase, which was upholstered in silk yesterday
-and the day before, is to-day followed to its origin on the rim by a
-part of the band and is then deserted after a short loop. The other
-caterpillars follow the usual ribbon. The result of this bifurcation is
-two almost equal files, walking along the ledge in the same direction,
-at a short distance from each other, sometimes meeting, separating
-farther on, in every case with some lack of order.
-
-Weariness increases the confusion. The crippled, who refuse to go on,
-are many. Breaches increase; files are split up into sections each of
-which has its leader, who pokes the front of his body this way and that
-to explore the ground. Everything seems to point to the disintegration
-which will bring safety. My hopes are once more disappointed. Before
-the night the single file is reconstituted and the invincible gyration
-resumed.
-
-Heat comes, just as suddenly as the cold did. To-day, the 4th of
-February, is a beautiful, mild day. The greenhouse is full of life.
-Numerous festoons of caterpillars, issuing from the nests, meander
-along the sand on the shelf. Above them, at every moment, the ring on
-the ledge of the vase breaks up and comes together again. For the first
-time I see daring leaders who, drunk with heat, standing only on their
-hinder prolegs at the extreme edge of the earthenware rim, fling
-themselves forward into space, twisting about, sounding the depths. The
-endeavour is frequently repeated, while the whole troop stops. The
-caterpillars' heads give sudden jerks, their bodies wriggle.
-
-One of the pioneers decides to take the plunge. He slips under the
-ledge. Four follow him. The others, still confiding in the perfidious
-silken path, dare not copy him and continue to go along the old road.
-
-The short string detached from the general chain gropes about a great
-deal, hesitates long on the side of the vase; it goes half-way down,
-then climbs up again slantwise, rejoins and takes its place in the
-procession. This time the attempt has failed, though at the foot of the
-vase, not nine inches away, there lay a bunch of pine-needles which I
-had placed there with the object of enticing the hungry ones. Smell and
-sight told them nothing. Near as they were to the goal, they went up
-again.
-
-No matter, the endeavour has its uses. Threads were laid on the way and
-will serve as a lure to further enterprise. The road of deliverance has
-its first landmarks. And, two days later, on the eighth day of the
-experiment, the caterpillars--now singly, anon in small groups, then
-again in strings of some length--come down from the ledge by following
-the staked-out path. At sunset the last of the laggards is back in the
-nest.
-
-Now for a little arithmetic. For seven times twenty-four hours the
-caterpillars have remained on the ledge of the vase. To make an ample
-allowance for stops due to the weariness of this one or that and above
-all for the rest taken during the colder hours of the night, we will
-deduct one-half of the time. This leaves eighty-four hours' walking.
-The average pace is nine centimetres a minute. (3 1/2
-inches.--Translator's Note.) The aggregate distance covered, therefore,
-is 453 metres, a good deal more than a quarter of a mile, which is a
-great walk for these little crawlers. The circumference of the vase,
-the perimeter of the track, is exactly 1 metre 35. (4 feet 5
-inches.--Translator's Note.) Therefore the circle covered, always in
-the same direction and always without result, was described three
-hundred and thirty-five times.
-
-These figures surprise me, though I am already familiar with the
-abysmal stupidity of insects as a class whenever the least accident
-occurs. I feel inclined to ask myself whether the Processionaries were
-not kept up there so long by the difficulties and dangers of the
-descent rather than by the lack of any gleam of intelligence in their
-benighted minds. The facts, however, reply that the descent is as easy
-as the ascent.
-
-The caterpillar has a very supple back, well adapted for twisting round
-projections or slipping underneath. He can walk with the same ease
-vertically or horizontally, with his back down or up. Besides, he never
-moves forward until he has fixed his thread to the ground. With this
-support to his feet, he has no falls to fear, no matter what his
-position.
-
-I had a proof of this before my eyes during a whole week. As I have
-already said, the track, instead of keeping on one level, bends twice,
-dips at a certain point under the ledge of the vase and reappears at
-the top a little farther on. At one part of the circuit, therefore, the
-procession walks on the lower surface of the rim; and this inverted
-position implies so little discomfort or danger that it is renewed at
-each turn for all the caterpillars from first to last.
-
-It is out of the question then to suggest the dread of a false step on
-the edge of the rim which is so nimbly turned at each point of
-inflexion. The caterpillars in distress, starved, shelterless, chilled
-with cold at night, cling obstinately to the silk ribbon covered
-hundreds of times, because they lack the rudimentary glimmers of reason
-which would advise them to abandon it.
-
-Experience and reflection are not in their province. The ordeal of a
-five hundred yards' march and three to four hundred turns teach them
-nothing; and it takes casual circumstances to bring them back to the
-nest. They would perish on their insidious ribbon if the disorder of
-the nocturnal encampments and the halts due to fatigue did not cast a
-few threads outside the circular path. Some three or four move along
-these trails, laid without an object, stray a little way and, thanks to
-their wanderings, prepare the descent, which is at last accomplished in
-short strings favoured by chance.
-
-The school most highly honoured to-day is very anxious to find the
-origin of reason in the dregs of the animal kingdom. Let me call its
-attention to the Pine Processionary.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER 9. THE SPIDERS.
-
-THE NARBONNE LYCOSA, OR BLACK-BELLIED TARANTULA.
-
-THE BURROW.
-
-Michelet has told us how, as a printer's apprentice in a cellar, he
-established amicable relations with a Spider. (Jules Michelet
-(1798-1874), author of "L'Oiseau" and "L'Insecte," in addition to the
-historical works for which he is chiefly known. As a lad, he helped his
-father, a printer by trade, in setting type.--Translator's Note.) At a
-certain hour of the day, a ray of sunlight would glint through the
-window of the gloomy workshop and light up the little compositor's
-case. Then his eight-legged neighbour would come down from her web and
-on the edge of the case take her share of the sunshine. The boy did not
-interfere with her; he welcomed the trusting visitor as a friend and as
-a pleasant diversion from the long monotony. When we lack the society
-of our fellow-men, we take refuge in that of animals, without always
-losing by the change.
-
-I do not, thank God, suffer from the melancholy of a cellar: my
-solitude is gay with light and verdure; I attend, whenever I please,
-the fields' high festival, the Thrushes' concert, the Crickets'
-symphony; and yet my friendly commerce with the Spider is marked by an
-even greater devotion than the young type-setter's. I admit her to the
-intimacy of my study, I make room for her among my books, I set her in
-the sun on my window-ledge, I visit her assiduously at her home, in the
-country. The object of our relations is not to create a means of escape
-from the petty worries of life, pin-pricks whereof I have my share like
-other men, a very large share, indeed; I propose to submit to the
-Spider a host of questions whereto, at times, she condescends to reply.
-
-To what fair problems does not the habit of frequenting her give rise!
-To set them forth worthily, the marvellous art which the little printer
-was to acquire were not too much. One needs the pen of a Michelet; and
-I have but a rough, blunt pencil. Let us try, nevertheless: even when
-poorly clad, truth is still beautiful.
-
-The most robust Spider in my district is the Narbonne Lycosa, or
-Black-bellied Tarantula, clad in black velvet on the lower surface,
-especially under the belly, with brown chevrons on the abdomen and grey
-and white rings around the legs. Her favourite home is the dry, pebbly
-ground, covered with sun-scorched thyme. In my harmas laboratory there
-are quite twenty of this Spider's burrows. Rarely do I pass by one of
-these haunts without giving a glance down the pit where gleam, like
-diamonds, the four great eyes, the four telescopes, of the hermit. The
-four others, which are much smaller, are not visible at that depth.
-
-Would I have greater riches, I have but to walk a hundred yards from my
-house, on the neighbouring plateau, once a shady forest, to-day a
-dreary solitude where the Cricket browses and the Wheat-ear flits from
-stone to stone. The love of lucre has laid waste the land. Because wine
-paid handsomely, they pulled up the forest to plant the vine. Then came
-the Phylloxera, the vine-stocks perished and the once green table-land
-is now no more than a desolate stretch where a few tufts of hardy
-grasses sprout among the pebbles. This waste-land is the Lycosa's
-paradise: in an hour's time, if need were, I should discover a hundred
-burrows within a limited range.
-
-These dwellings are pits about a foot deep, perpendicular at first and
-then bent elbow-wise. The average diameter is an inch. On the edge of
-the hole stands a kerb, formed of straw, bits and scraps of all sorts
-and even small pebbles, the size of a hazel-nut. The whole is kept in
-place and cemented with silk. Often, the Spider confines herself to
-drawing together the dry blades of the nearest grass, which she ties
-down with the straps from her spinnerets, without removing the blades
-from the stems; often, also, she rejects this scaffolding in favour of
-a masonry constructed of small stones. The nature of the kerb is
-decided by the nature of the materials within the Lycosa's reach, in
-the close neighbourhood of the building-yard. There is no selection:
-everything meets with approval, provided that it be near at hand.
-
-The direction is perpendicular, in so far as obstacles, frequent in a
-soil of this kind, permit. A bit of gravel can be extracted and hoisted
-outside; but a flint is an immovable boulder which the Spider avoids by
-giving a bend to her gallery. If more such are met with, the residence
-becomes a winding cave, with stone vaults, with lobbies communicating
-by means of sharp passages.
-
-This lack of plan has no attendant drawbacks, so well does the owner,
-from long habit, know every corner and storey of her mansion. If any
-interesting buzz occur overhead, the Lycosa climbs up from her rugged
-manor with the same speed as from a vertical shaft. Perhaps she even
-finds the windings and turnings an advantage, when she has to drag into
-her den a prey that happens to defend itself.
-
-As a rule, the end of the burrow widens into a side-chamber, a lounge
-or resting-place where the Spider meditates at length and is content to
-lead a life of quiet when her belly is full.
-
-When she reaches maturity and is once settled, the Lycosa becomes
-eminently domesticated. I have been living in close communion with her
-for the last three years. I have installed her in large earthen pans on
-the window-sills of my study and I have her daily under my eyes. Well,
-it is very rarely that I happen on her outside, a few inches from her
-hole, back to which she bolts at the least alarm.
-
-We may take it then that, when not in captivity, the Lycosa does not go
-far afield to gather the wherewithal to build her parapet and that she
-makes shift with what she finds upon her threshold. In these
-conditions, the building-stones are soon exhausted and the masonry
-ceases for lack of materials.
-
-The wish came over me to see what dimensions the circular edifice would
-assume, if the Spider were given an unlimited supply. With captives to
-whom I myself act as purveyor the thing is easy enough. Were it only
-with a view to helping whoso may one day care to continue these
-relations with the big Spider of the waste-lands, let me describe how
-my subjects are housed.
-
-A good-sized earthenware pan, some nine inches deep, is filled with a
-red, clayey earth, rich in pebbles, similar, in short, to that of the
-places haunted by the Lycosa. Properly moistened into a paste, the
-artificial soil is heaped, layer by layer, around a central reed, of a
-bore equal to that of the animal's natural burrow. When the receptacle
-is filled to the top, I withdraw the reed, which leaves a yawning,
-perpendicular shaft. I thus obtain the abode which shall replace that
-of the fields.
-
-To find the hermit to inhabit it is merely the matter of a walk in the
-neighbourhood. When removed from her own dwelling, which is turned
-topsy-turvy by my trowel, and placed in possession of the den produced
-by my art, the Lycosa at once disappears into that den. She does not
-come out again, seeks nothing better elsewhere. A large wire-gauze
-cover rests on the soil in the pan and prevents escape.
-
-In any case, the watch, in this respect, makes no demand upon my
-diligence. The prisoner is satisfied with her new abode and manifests
-no regret for her natural burrow. There is no attempt at flight on her
-part. Let me not omit to add that each pan must receive not more than
-one inhabitant. The Lycosa is very intolerant. To her a neighbour is
-fair game, to be eaten without scruple when one has might on one's
-side. Time was when, unaware of this fierce intolerance, which is more
-savage still at breeding time, I saw hideous orgies perpetrated in my
-overstocked cages. I shall have occasion to describe those tragedies
-later.
-
-Let us meanwhile consider the isolated Lycosae. They do not touch up
-the dwelling which I have moulded for them with a bit of reed; at most,
-now and again, perhaps with the object of forming a lounge or bedroom
-at the bottom, they fling out a few loads of rubbish. But all, little
-by little, build the kerb that is to edge the mouth.
-
-I have given them plenty of first-rate materials, far superior to those
-which they use when left to their own resources. These consist, first,
-for the foundations, of little smooth stones, some of which are as
-large as an almond. With this road-metal are mingled short strips of
-raphia, or palm-fibre, flexible ribbons, easily bent. These stand for
-the Spider's usual basket-work, consisting of slender stalks and dry
-blades of grass. Lastly, by way of an unprecedented treasure, never yet
-employed by a Lycosa, I place at my captives' disposal some thick
-threads of wool, cut into inch lengths.
-
-As I wish, at the same time, to find out whether my animals, with the
-magnificent lenses of their eyes, are able to distinguish colours and
-prefer one colour to another, I mix up bits of wool of different hues:
-there are red, green, white, and yellow pieces. If the Spider have any
-preference, she can choose where she pleases.
-
-The Lycosa always works at night, a regrettable circumstance, which
-does not allow me to follow the worker's methods. I see the result; and
-that is all. Were I to visit the building-yard by the light of a
-lantern, I should be no wiser. The Spider, who is very shy, would at
-once dive into her lair; and I should have lost my sleep for nothing.
-Furthermore, she is not a very diligent labourer; she likes to take her
-time. Two or three bits of wool or raphia placed in position represent
-a whole night's work. And to this slowness we must add long spells of
-utter idleness.
-
-Two months pass; and the result of my liberality surpasses my
-expectations. Possessing more windfalls than they know what to do with,
-all picked up in their immediate neighbourhood, my Lycosae have built
-themselves donjon-keeps the like of which their race has not yet known.
-Around the orifice, on a slightly sloping bank, small, flat, smooth
-stones have been laid to form a broken, flagged pavement. The larger
-stones, which are Cyclopean blocks compared with the size of the animal
-that has shifted them, are employed as abundantly as the others.
-
-On this rockwork stands the donjon. It is an interlacing of raphia and
-bits of wool, picked up at random, without distinction of shade. Red
-and white, green and yellow are mixed without any attempt at order. The
-Lycosa is indifferent to the joys of colour.
-
-The ultimate result is a sort of muff, a couple of inches high. Bands
-of silk, supplied by the spinnerets, unite the pieces, so that the
-whole resembles a coarse fabric. Without being absolutely faultless,
-for there are always awkward pieces on the outside, which the worker
-could not handle, the gaudy building is not devoid of merit. The bird
-lining its nest would do no better. Whoso sees the curious,
-many- productions in my pans takes them for an outcome of my
-industry, contrived with a view to some experimental mischief; and his
-surprise is great when I confess who the real author is. No one would
-ever believe the Spider capable of constructing such a monument.
-
-It goes without saying that, in a state of liberty, on our barren
-waste-lands, the Lycosa does not indulge in such sumptuous
-architecture. I have given the reason: she is too great a stay-at-home
-to go in search of materials and she makes use of the limited resources
-which she finds around her. Bits of earth, small chips of stone, a few
-twigs, a few withered grasses: that is all, or nearly all. Wherefore
-the work is generally quite modest and reduced to a parapet that hardly
-attracts attention.
-
-My captives teach us that, when materials are plentiful, especially
-textile materials that remove all fears of landslip, the Lycosa
-delights in tall turrets. She understands the art of donjon-building
-and puts it into practice as often as she possesses the means.
-
-What is the purpose of this turret? My pans will tell us that. An
-enthusiastic votary of the chase, so long as she is not permanently
-fixed, the Lycosa, once she has set up house, prefers to lie in ambush
-and wait for the quarry. Every day, when the heat is greatest, I see my
-captives come up slowly from under ground and lean upon the battlements
-of their woolly castle-keep. They are then really magnificent in their
-stately gravity. With their swelling belly contained within the
-aperture, their head outside, their glassy eyes staring, their legs
-gathered for a spring, for hours and hours they wait, motionless,
-bathing voluptuously in the sun.
-
-Should a tit-bit to her liking happen to pass, forthwith the watcher
-darts from her tall tower, swift as an arrow from the bow. With a
-dagger-thrust in the neck, she stabs the jugular of the Locust,
-Dragon-fly or other prey whereof I am the purveyor; and she as quickly
-scales the donjon and retires with her capture. The performance is a
-wonderful exhibition of skill and speed.
-
-Very seldom is a quarry missed, provided that it pass at a convenient
-distance, within the range of the huntress' bound. But, if the prey be
-at some distance, for instance on the wire of the cage, the Lycosa
-takes no notice of it. Scorning to go in pursuit, she allows it to roam
-at will. She never strikes except when sure of her stroke. She achieves
-this by means of her tower. Hiding behind the wall, she sees the
-stranger advancing, keeps her eyes on him and suddenly pounces when he
-comes within reach. These abrupt tactics make the thing a certainty.
-Though he were winged and swift of flight, the unwary one who
-approaches the ambush is lost.
-
-This presumes, it is true, an exemplary patience on the Lycosa's part;
-for the burrow has naught that can serve to entice victims. At best,
-the ledge provided by the turret may, at rare intervals, tempt some
-weary wayfarer to use it as a resting-place. But, if the quarry do not
-come to-day, it is sure to come to-morrow, the next day, or later, for
-the Locusts hop innumerable in the waste-land, nor are they always able
-to regulate their leaps. Some day or other, chance is bound to bring
-one of them within the purlieus of the burrow. This is the moment to
-spring upon the pilgrim from the ramparts. Until then, we maintain a
-stoical vigilance. We shall dine when we can; but we shall end by
-dining.
-
-The Lycosa, therefore, well aware of these lingering eventualities,
-waits and is not unduly distressed by a prolonged abstinence. She has
-an accommodating stomach, which is satisfied to be gorged to-day and to
-remain empty afterwards for goodness knows how long. I have sometimes
-neglected my catering duties for weeks at a time; and my boarders have
-been none the worse for it. After a more or less protracted fast, they
-do not pine away, but are smitten with a wolf-like hunger. All these
-ravenous eaters are alike: they guzzle to excess to-day, in
-anticipation of to-morrow's dearth.
-
-THE LAYING.
-
-Chance, a poor stand-by, sometimes contrives very well. At the
-beginning of the month of August, the children call me to the far side
-of the enclosure, rejoicing in a find which they have made under the
-rosemary-bushes. It is a magnificent Lycosa, with an enormous belly,
-the sign of an impending delivery.
-
-Early one morning, ten days later, I find her preparing for her
-confinement. A silk network is first spun on the ground, covering an
-extent about equal to the palm of one's hand. It is coarse and
-shapeless, but firmly fixed. This is the floor on which the Spider
-means to operate.
-
-On this foundation, which acts as a protection from the sand, the
-Lycosa fashions a round mat, the size of a two-franc piece and made of
-superb white silk. With a gentle, uniform movement, which might be
-regulated by the wheels of a delicate piece of clockwork, the tip of
-the abdomen rises and falls, each time touching the supporting base a
-little farther away, until the extreme scope of the mechanism is
-attained.
-
-Then, without the Spider's moving her position, the oscillation is
-resumed in the opposite direction. By means of this alternate motion,
-interspersed with numerous contacts, a segment of the sheet is
-obtained, of a very accurate texture. When this is done, the Spider
-moves a little along a circular line and the loom works in the same
-manner on another segment.
-
-The silk disk, a sort of hardy concave paten, now no longer receives
-anything from the spinnerets in its centre; the marginal belt alone
-increases in thickness. The piece thus becomes a bowl-shaped porringer,
-surrounded by a wide, flat edge.
-
-The time for the laying has come. With one quick emission, the viscous,
-pale-yellow eggs are laid in the basin, where they heap together in the
-shape of a globe which projects largely outside the cavity. The
-spinnerets are once more set going. With short movements, as the tip of
-the abdomen rises and falls to weave the round mat, they cover up the
-exposed hemisphere. The result is a pill set in the middle of a
-circular carpet.
-
-The legs, hitherto idle, are now working. They take up and break off
-one by one the threads that keep the round mat stretched on the coarse
-supporting network. At the same time the fangs grip this sheet, lift it
-by degrees, tear it from its base and fold it over upon the globe of
-eggs. It is a laborious operation. The whole edifice totters, the floor
-collapses, fouled with sand. By a movement of the legs, those soiled
-shreds are cast aside. Briefly, by means of violent tugs of the fangs,
-which pull, and broom-like efforts of the legs, which clear away, the
-Lycosa extricates the bag of eggs and removes it as a clear-cut mass,
-free from any adhesion.
-
-It is a white-silk pill, soft to the touch and glutinous. Its size is
-that of an average cherry. An observant eye will notice, running
-horizontally around the middle, a fold which a needle is able to raise
-without breaking it. This hem, generally undistinguishable from the
-rest of the surface, is none other than the edge of the circular mat,
-drawn over the lower hemisphere. The other hemisphere, through which
-the youngsters will go out, is less well fortified: its only wrapper is
-the texture spun over the eggs immediately after they were laid.
-
-The work of spinning, followed by that of tearing, is continued for a
-whole morning, from five to nine o'clock. Worn out with fatigue, the
-mother embraces her dear pill and remains motionless. I shall see no
-more to-day. Next morning, I find the Spider carrying the bag of eggs
-slung from her stern.
-
-Henceforth, until the hatching, she does not leave go of the precious
-burden, which, fastened to the spinnerets by a short ligament, drags
-and bumps along the ground. With this load banging against her heels,
-she goes about her business; she walks or rests, she seeks her prey,
-attacks it and devours it. Should some accident cause the wallet to
-drop off, it is soon replaced. The spinnerets touch it somewhere,
-anywhere, and that is enough: adhesion is at once restored.
-
-When the work is done, some of them emancipate themselves, think they
-will have a look at the country before retiring for good and all. It is
-these whom we meet at times, wandering aimlessly and dragging their bag
-behind them. Sooner or later, however, the vagrants return home; and
-the month of August is not over before a straw rustled in any burrow
-will bring the mother up, with her wallet slung behind her. I am able
-to procure as many as I want and, with them, to indulge in certain
-experiments of the highest interest.
-
-It is a sight worth seeing, that of the Lycosa dragging her treasure
-after her, never leaving it, day or night, sleeping or waking, and
-defending it with a courage that strikes the beholder with awe. If I
-try to take the bag from her, she presses it to her breast in despair,
-hangs on to my pincers, bites them with her poison-fangs. I can hear
-the daggers grating on the steel. No, she would not allow herself to be
-robbed of the wallet with impunity, if my fingers were not supplied
-with an implement.
-
-By dint of pulling and shaking the pill with the forceps, I take it
-from the Lycosa, who protests furiously. I fling her in exchange a pill
-taken from another Lycosa. It is at once seized in the fangs, embraced
-by the legs and hung on to the spinneret. Her own or another's: it is
-all one to the Spider, who walks away proudly with the alien wallet.
-This was to be expected, in view of the similarity of the pills
-exchanged.
-
-A test of another kind, with a second subject, renders the mistake more
-striking. I substitute, in the place of the lawful bag which I have
-removed, the work of the Silky Epeira. The colour and softness of the
-material are the same in both cases; but the shape is quite different.
-The stolen object is a globe; the object presented in exchange is an
-elliptical conoid studded with angular projections along the edge of
-the base. The Spider takes no account of this dissimilarity. She
-promptly glues the queer bag to her spinnerets and is as pleased as
-though she were in possession of her real pill. My experimental
-villainies have no other consequence beyond an ephemeral carting. When
-hatching-time arrives, early in the case of Lycosa, late in that of the
-Epeira, the gulled Spider abandons the strange bag and pays it no
-further attention.
-
-Let us penetrate yet deeper into the wallet-bearer's stupidity. After
-depriving the Lycosa of her eggs, I throw her a ball of cork, roughly
-polished with a file and of the same size as the stolen pill. She
-accepts the corky substance, so different from the silk purse, without
-the least demur. One would have thought that she would recognize her
-mistake with those eight eyes of hers, which gleam like precious
-stones. The silly creature pays no attention. Lovingly she embraces the
-cork ball, fondles it with her palpi, fastens it to her spinnerets and
-thenceforth drags it after her as though she were dragging her own bag.
-
-Let us give another the choice between the imitation and the real. The
-rightful pill and the cork ball are placed together on the floor of the
-jar. Will the Spider be able to know the one that belongs to her? The
-fool is incapable of doing so. She makes a wild rush and seizes
-haphazard at one time her property, at another my sham product.
-Whatever is first touched becomes a good capture and is forthwith hung
-up.
-
-If I increase the number of cork balls, if I put in four or five of
-them, with the real pill among them, it is seldom that the Lycosa
-recovers her own property. Attempts at inquiry, attempts at selection
-there are none. Whatever she snaps up at random she sticks to, be it
-good or bad. As there are more of the sham pills of cork, these are the
-most often seized by the Spider.
-
-This obtuseness baffles me. Can the animal be deceived by the soft
-contact of the cork? I replace the cork balls by pellets of cotton or
-paper, kept in their round shape with a few bands of thread. Both are
-very readily accepted instead of the real bag that has been removed.
-
-Can the illusion be due to the colouring, which is light in the cork
-and not unlike the tint of the silk globe when soiled with a little
-earth, while it is white in the paper and the cotton, when it is
-identical with that of the original pill? I give the Lycosa, in
-exchange for her work, a pellet of silk thread, chosen of a fine red,
-the brightest of all colours. The uncommon pill is as readily accepted
-and as jealously guarded as the others.
-
-THE FAMILY.
-
-For three weeks and more the Lycosa trails the bag of eggs hanging to
-her spinnerets. The reader will remember the experiments described in
-the preceding section, particularly those with the cork ball and the
-thread pellet which the Spider so foolishly accepts in exchange for the
-real pill. Well, this exceedingly dull-witted mother, satisfied with
-aught that knocks against her heels, is about to make us wonder at her
-devotion.
-
-Whether she come up from her shaft to lean upon the kerb and bask in
-the sun, whether she suddenly retire underground in the face of danger,
-or whether she be roaming the country before settling down, never does
-she let go her precious bag, that very cumbrous burden in walking,
-climbing or leaping. If, by some accident, it become detached from the
-fastening to which it is hung, she flings herself madly on her treasure
-and lovingly embraces it, ready to bite whoso would take it from her. I
-myself am sometimes the thief. I then hear the points of the
-poison-fangs grinding against the steel of my pincers, which tug in one
-direction while the Lycosa tugs in the other. But let us leave the
-animal alone: with a quick touch of the spinnerets, the pill is
-restored to its place; and the Spider strides off, still menacing.
-
-Towards the end of summer, all the householders, old or young, whether
-in captivity on the window-sill or at liberty in the paths of the
-enclosure, supply me daily with the following improving sight. In the
-morning, as soon as the sun is hot and beats upon their burrow, the
-anchorites come up from the bottom with their bag and station
-themselves at the opening. Long siestas on the threshold in the sun are
-the order of the day throughout the fine season; but, at the present
-time, the position adopted is a different one. Formerly, the Lycosa
-came out into the sun for her own sake. Leaning on the parapet, she had
-the front half of her body outside the pit and the hinder half inside.
-The eyes took their fill of light; the belly remained in the dark. When
-carrying her egg-bag, the Spider reverses the posture: the front is in
-the pit, the rear outside. With her hind-legs she holds the white pill
-bulging with germs lifted above the entrance; gently she turns and
-turns it, so as to present every side to the life-giving rays. And this
-goes on for half the day, so long as the temperature is high; and it is
-repeated daily, with exquisite patience, during three or four weeks. To
-hatch its eggs, the bird covers them with the quilt of its breast; it
-strains them to the furnace of its heart. The Lycosa turns hers in
-front of the hearth of hearths: she gives them the sun as an incubator.
-
-In the early days of September the young ones, who have been some time
-hatched, are ready to come out.
-
-The whole family emerges from the bag straightway. Then and there, the
-youngsters climb to the mother's back. As for the empty bag, now a
-worthless shred, it is flung out of the burrow; the Lycosa does not
-give it a further thought. Huddled together, sometimes in two or three
-layers, according to their number, the little ones cover the whole back
-of the mother, who, for seven or eight months to come, will carry her
-family night and day. Nowhere can we hope to see a more edifying
-domestic picture than that of the Lycosa clothed in her young.
-
-From time to time I meet a little band of gipsies passing along the
-high-road on their way to some neighbouring fair. The new-born babe
-mewls on the mother's breast, in a hammock formed out of a kerchief.
-The last-weaned is carried pick-a-back; a third toddles clinging to its
-mother's skirts; others follow closely, the biggest in the rear,
-ferreting in the blackberry-laden hedgerows. It is a magnificent
-spectacle of happy-go-lucky fruitfulness. They go their way, penniless
-and rejoicing. The sun is hot and the earth is fertile.
-
-But how this picture pales before that of the Lycosa, that incomparable
-gipsy whose brats are numbered by the hundred! And one and all of them,
-from September to April, without a moment's respite, find room upon the
-patient creature's back, where they are content to lead a tranquil life
-and to be carted about.
-
-The little ones are very good; none moves, none seeks a quarrel with
-his neighbours. Clinging together, they form a continuous drapery, a
-shaggy ulster under which the mother becomes unrecognizable. Is it an
-animal, a fluff of wool, a cluster of small seeds fastened to one
-another? 'Tis impossible to tell at the first glance.
-
-The equilibrium of this living blanket is not so firm but that falls
-often occur, especially when the mother climbs from indoors and comes
-to the threshold to let the little ones take the sun. The least brush
-against the gallery unseats a part of the family. The mishap is not
-serious. The Hen, fidgeting about her Chicks, looks for the strays,
-calls them, gathers them together. The Lycosa knows not these maternal
-alarms. Impassively, she leaves those who drop off to manage their own
-difficulty, which they do with wonderful quickness. Commend me to those
-youngsters for getting up without whining, dusting themselves and
-resuming their seat in the saddle! The unhorsed ones promptly find a
-leg of the mother, the usual climbing-pole; they swarm up it as fast as
-they can and recover their places on the bearer's back. The living bark
-of animals is reconstructed in the twinkling of an eye.
-
-To speak here of mother-love were, I think, extravagant. The Lycosa's
-affection for her offspring hardly surpasses that of the plant, which
-is unacquainted with any tender feeling and nevertheless bestows the
-nicest and most delicate care upon its seeds. The animal, in many
-cases, knows no other sense of motherhood. What cares the Lycosa for
-her brood! She accepts another's as readily as her own; she is
-satisfied so long as her back is burdened with a swarming crowd,
-whether it issue from her ovaries or elsewhere. There is no question
-here of real maternal affection.
-
-I have described elsewhere the prowess of the Copris watching over
-cells that are not her handiwork and do not contain her offspring. With
-a zeal which even the additional labour laid upon her does not easily
-weary, she removes the mildew from the alien dung-balls, which far
-exceed the regular nests in number; she gently scrapes and polishes and
-repairs them; she listens attentively and enquires by ear into each
-nurseling's progress. Her real collection could not receive greater
-care. Her own family or another's: it is all one to her.
-
-The Lycosa is equally indifferent. I take a hair-pencil and sweep the
-living burden from one of my Spiders, making it fall close to another
-covered with her little ones. The evicted youngsters scamper about,
-find the new mother's legs outspread, nimbly clamber up these and mount
-on the back of the obliging creature, who quietly lets them have their
-way. They slip in among the others, or, when the layer is too thick,
-push to the front and pass from the abdomen to the thorax and even to
-the head, though leaving the region of the eyes uncovered. It does not
-do to blind the bearer: the common safety demands that. They know this
-and respect the lenses of the eyes, however populous the assembly be.
-The whole animal is now covered with a swarming carpet of young, all
-except the legs, which must preserve their freedom of action, and the
-under part of the body, where contact with the ground is to be feared.
-
-My pencil forces a third family upon the already over-burdened Spider;
-and this too is peacefully accepted. The youngsters huddle up closer,
-lie one on top of the other in layers and room is found for all. The
-Lycosa has lost the last semblance of an animal, has become a nameless
-bristling thing that walks about. Falls are frequent and are followed
-by continual climbings.
-
-I perceive that I have reached the limits, not of the bearer's
-good-will, but of equilibrium. The Spider would adopt an indefinite
-further number of foundlings, if the dimensions of her back afforded
-them a firm hold. Let us be content with this. Let us restore each
-family to its mother, drawing at random from the lot. There must
-necessarily be interchanges, but that is of no importance: real
-children and adopted children are the same thing in the Lycosa's eyes.
-
-One would like to know if, apart from my artifices, in circumstances
-where I do not interfere, the good-natured dry-nurse sometimes burdens
-herself with a supplementary family; it would also be interesting to
-learn what comes of this association of lawful offspring and strangers.
-I have ample materials wherewith to obtain an answer to both questions.
-I have housed in the same cage two elderly matrons laden with
-youngsters. Each has her home as far removed from the other's as the
-size of the common pan permits. The distance is nine inches or more. It
-is not enough. Proximity soon kindles fierce jealousies between those
-intolerant creatures, who are obliged to live far apart so as to secure
-adequate hunting-grounds.
-
-One morning I catch the two harridans fighting out their quarrel on the
-floor. The loser is laid flat upon her back; the victress, belly to
-belly with her adversary, clutches her with her legs and prevents her
-from moving a limb. Both have their poison-fangs wide open, ready to
-bite without yet daring, so mutually formidable are they. After a
-certain period of waiting, during which the pair merely exchange
-threats, the stronger of the two, the one on top, closes her lethal
-engine and grinds the head of the prostrate foe. Then she calmly
-devours the deceased by small mouthfuls.
-
-Now what do the youngsters do, while their mother is being eaten?
-Easily consoled, heedless of the atrocious scene, they climb on the
-conqueror's back and quietly take their places among the lawful family.
-The ogress raises no objection, accepts them as her own. She makes a
-meal off the mother and adopts the orphans.
-
-Let us add that, for many months yet, until the final emancipation
-comes, she will carry them without drawing any distinction between them
-and her own young. Henceforth the two families, united in so tragic a
-fashion, will form but one. We see how greatly out of place it would be
-to speak, in this connection, of mother-love and its fond
-manifestations.
-
-Does the Lycosa at least feed the younglings who, for seven months,
-swarm upon her back? Does she invite them to the banquet when she has
-secured a prize? I thought so at first; and, anxious to assist at the
-family repast, I devoted special attention to watching the mothers eat.
-As a rule, the prey is consumed out of sight, in the burrow; but
-sometimes also a meal is taken on the threshold, in the open air.
-Besides, it is easy to rear the Lycosa and her family in a wire-gauze
-cage, with a layer of earth wherein the captive will never dream of
-sinking a well, such work being out of season. Everything then happens
-in the open.
-
-Well, while the mother munches, chews, expresses the juices and
-swallows, the youngsters do not budge from their camping-ground on her
-back. Not one quits its place nor gives a sign of wishing to slip down
-and join in the meal. Nor does the mother extend an invitation to them
-to come and recruit themselves, nor put any broken victuals aside for
-them. She feeds and the others look on, or rather remain indifferent to
-what is happening. Their perfect quiet during the Lycosa's feast points
-to the possession of a stomach that knows no cravings.
-
-Then with what are they sustained, during their seven months'
-upbringing on the mother's back? One conceives a notion of exudations
-supplied by the bearer's body, in which case the young would feed on
-their mother, after the manner of parasitic vermin, and gradually drain
-her strength.
-
-We must abandon this notion. Never are they seen to put their mouths to
-the skin that should be a sort of teat to them. On the other hand, the
-Lycosa, far from being exhausted and shrivelling, keeps perfectly well
-and plump. She has the same pot-belly when she finishes rearing her
-young as when she began. She has not lost weight: far from it; on the
-contrary, she has put on flesh: she has gained the wherewithal to beget
-a new family next summer, one as numerous as to-day's.
-
-Once more, with what do the little ones keep up their strength? We do
-not like to suggest reserves supplied by the egg as rectifying the
-animal's expenditure of vital force, especially when we consider that
-those reserves, themselves so close to nothing, must be economized in
-view of the silk, a material of the highest importance, of which a
-plentiful use will be made presently. There must be other powers at
-play in the tiny animal's machinery.
-
-Total abstinence from food could be understood, if it were accompanied
-by inertia: immobility is not life. But the young Lycosae, though
-usually quiet on their mother's back, are at all times ready for
-exercise and for agile swarming. When they fall from the maternal
-perambulator, they briskly pick themselves up, briskly scramble up a
-leg and make their way to the top. It is a splendidly nimble and
-spirited performance. Besides, once seated, they have to keep a firm
-balance in the mass; they have to stretch and stiffen their little
-limbs in order to hang on to their neighbours. As a matter of fact,
-there is no absolute rest for them. Now physiology teaches us that not
-a fibre works without some expenditure of energy. The animal, which can
-be likened, in no small measure, to our industrial machines, demands,
-on the one hand, the renovation of its organism, which wears out with
-movement, and, on the other, the maintenance of the heat transformed
-into action. We can compare it with the locomotive-engine. As the iron
-horse performs its work, it gradually wears out its pistons, its rods,
-its wheels, its boiler-tubes, all of which have to be made good from
-time to time. The founder and the smith repair it, supply it, so to
-speak, with 'plastic food,' the food that becomes embodied with the
-whole and forms part of it. But, though it have just come from the
-engine-shop, it is still inert. To acquire the power of movement it
-must receive from the stoker a supply of 'energy-producing food'; in
-other words, he lights a few shovelfuls of coal in its inside. This
-heat will produce mechanical work.
-
-Even so with the beast. As nothing is made from nothing, the egg
-supplies first the materials of the new-born animal; then the plastic
-food, the smith of living creatures, increases the body, up to a
-certain limit, and renews it as it wears away. The stoker works at the
-same time, without stopping. Fuel, the source of energy, makes but a
-short stay in the system, where it is consumed and furnishes heat,
-whence movement is derived. Life is a fire-box. Warmed by its food, the
-animal machine moves, walks, runs, jumps, swims, flies, sets its
-locomotory apparatus going in a thousand manners.
-
-To return to the young Lycosae, they grow no larger until the period of
-their emancipation. I find them at the age of seven months the same as
-when I saw them at their birth. The egg supplied the materials
-necessary for their tiny frames; and, as the loss of waste substance
-is, for the moment, excessively small, or even nil, additional plastic
-food is not needed so long as the wee creature does not grow. In this
-respect, the prolonged abstinence presents no difficulty. But there
-remains the question of energy-producing food, which is indispensable,
-for the little Lycosa moves, when necessary, and very actively at that.
-To what shall we attribute the heat expended upon action, when the
-animal takes absolutely no nourishment?
-
-An idea suggests itself. We say to ourselves that, without being life,
-a machine is something more than matter, for man has added a little of
-his mind to it. Now the iron beast, consuming its ration of coal, is
-really browsing the ancient foliage of arborescent ferns in which solar
-energy has accumulated.
-
-Beasts of flesh and blood act no otherwise. Whether they mutually
-devour one another or levy tribute on the plant, they invariably
-quicken themselves with the stimulant of the sun's heat, a heat stored
-in grass, fruit, seed and those which feed on such. The sun, the soul
-of the universe, is the supreme dispenser of energy.
-
-Instead of being served up through the intermediary of food and passing
-through the ignominious circuit of gastric chemistry, could not this
-solar energy penetrate the animal directly and charge it with activity,
-even as the battery charges an accumulator with power? Why not live on
-sun, seeing that, after all, we find naught but sun in the fruits which
-we consume?
-
-Chemical science, that bold revolutionary, promises to provide us with
-synthetic foodstuffs. The laboratory and the factory will take the
-place of the farm. Why should not physical science step in as well? It
-would leave the preparation of plastic food to the chemist's retorts;
-it would reserve for itself that of energy-producing food which,
-reduced to its exact terms, ceases to be matter. With the aid of some
-ingenious apparatus, it would pump into us our daily ration of solar
-energy, to be later expended in movement, whereby the machine would be
-kept going without the often painful assistance of the stomach and its
-adjuncts. What a delightful world, where one could lunch off a ray of
-sunshine!
-
-Is it a dream, or the anticipation of a remote reality? The problem is
-one of the most important that science can set us. Let us first hear
-the evidence of the young Lycosae regarding its possibilities.
-
-For seven months, without any material nourishment, they expend
-strength in moving. To wind up the mechanism of their muscles, they
-recruit themselves direct with heat and light. During the time when she
-was dragging the bag of eggs behind her, the mother, at the best
-moments of the day, came and held up her pill to the sun. With her two
-hind-legs she lifted it out of the ground into the full light; slowly
-she turned it and turned it, so that every side might receive its share
-of the vivifying rays. Well, this bath of life, which awakened the
-germs, is now prolonged to keep the tender babes active.
-
-Daily, if the sky be clear, the Lycosa, carrying her young, comes up
-from the burrow, leans on the kerb and spends long hours basking in the
-sun. Here, on their mother's back, the youngsters stretch their limbs
-delightedly, saturate themselves with heat, take in reserves of
-motor-power, absorb energy.
-
-They are motionless; but, if I only blow upon them, they stampede as
-nimbly as though a hurricane were passing. Hurriedly, they disperse;
-hurriedly, they reassemble: a proof that, without material nourishment,
-the little animal machine is always at full pressure, ready to work.
-When the shade comes, mother and sons go down again, surfeited with
-solar emanations. The feast of energy at the Sun Tavern is finished for
-the day.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER 10. THE BANDED EPEIRA.
-
-BUILDING THE WEB.
-
-The fowling-snare is one of man's ingenious villainies. With lines,
-pegs and poles, two large, earth- nets are stretched upon the
-ground, one to the right, the other to the left of a bare surface. A
-long cord, pulled at the right moment by the fowler, who hides in a
-brushwood hut, works them and brings them together suddenly, like a
-pair of shutters.
-
-Divided between the two nets are the cages of the decoy-birds--Linnets
-and Chaffinches, Greenfinches and Yellowhammers, Buntings and
-Ortolans--sharp-eared creatures which, on perceiving the distant
-passage of a flock of their own kind, forthwith utter a short calling
-note. One of them, the Sambe, an irresistible tempter, hops about and
-flaps his wings in apparent freedom. A bit of twine fastens him to his
-convict's stake. When, worn with fatigue and driven desperate by his
-vain attempts to get away, the sufferer lies down flat and refuses to
-do his duty, the fowler is able to stimulate him without stirring from
-his hut. A long string sets in motion a little lever working on a
-pivot. Raised from the ground by this diabolical contrivance, the bird
-flies, falls down and flies up again at each jerk of the cord.
-
-The fowler waits, in the mild sunlight of the autumn morning. Suddenly,
-great excitement in the cages. The Chaffinches chirp their rallying
-cry:
-
-"Pinck! Pinck!"
-
-There is something happening in the sky. The Sambe, quick! They are
-coming, the simpletons; they swoop down upon the treacherous floor.
-With a rapid movement, the man in ambush pulls his string. The nets
-close and the whole flock is caught.
-
-Man has wild beast's blood in his veins. The fowler hastens to the
-slaughter. With his thumb he stifles the beating of the captives'
-hearts, staves in their skulls. The little birds, so many piteous heads
-of game, will go to market, strung in dozens on a wire passed through
-their nostrils.
-
-For scoundrelly ingenuity, the Epeira's net can bear comparison with
-the fowler's; it even surpasses it when, on patient study, the main
-features of its supreme perfection stand revealed. What refinement of
-art for a mess of Flies! Nowhere, in the whole animal kingdom, has the
-need to eat inspired a more cunning industry. If the reader will
-meditate upon the description that follows, he will certainly share my
-admiration.
-
-In bearing and colouring, Epeira fasciata is the handsomest of the
-Spiders of the South. On her fat belly, a mighty silk-warehouse nearly
-as large as a hazel-nut, are alternate yellow, black and silver sashes,
-to which she owes her epithet of Banded. Around that portly abdomen the
-eight long legs, with their dark- and pale-brown rings, radiate like
-spokes.
-
-Any small prey suits her; and, as long as she can find supports for her
-web, she settles wherever the Locust hops, wherever the Fly hovers,
-wherever the Dragon-fly dances or the Butterfly flits. As a rule,
-because of the greater abundance of game, she spreads her toils across
-some brooklet, from bank to bank among the rushes. She also stretches
-them, but not so assiduously, in the thickets of evergreen oak, on the
-<DW72>s with the scrubby greenswards, dear to the Grasshoppers.
-
-Her hunting-weapon is a large upright web, whose outer boundary, which
-varies according to the disposition of the ground, is fastened to the
-neighbouring branches by a number of moorings. Let us see, first of
-all, how the ropes which form the framework of the building are
-obtained.
-
-All day invisible, crouching amid the cypress-leaves, the Spider, at
-about eight o'clock in the evening, solemnly emerges from her retreat
-and makes for the top of a branch. In this exalted position she sits
-for sometime laying her plans with due regard to the locality; she
-consults the weather, ascertains if the night will be fine. Then,
-suddenly, with her eight legs widespread, she lets herself drop
-straight down, hanging to the line that issues from her spinnerets.
-Just as the rope-maker obtains the even output of his hemp by walking
-backwards, so does the Epeira obtain the discharge of hers by falling.
-It is extracted by the weight of her body.
-
-The descent, however, has not the brute speed which the force of
-gravity would give it, if uncontrolled. It is governed by the action of
-the spinnerets, which contract or expand their pores, or close them
-entirely, at the faller's pleasure. And so, with gentle moderation, she
-pays out this living plumb-line, of which my lantern clearly shows me
-the plumb, but not always the line. The great squab seems at such times
-to be sprawling in space, without the least support.
-
-She comes to an abrupt stop two inches from the ground; the silk-reel
-ceases working. The Spider turns round, clutches the line which she has
-just obtained and climbs up by this road, still spinning. But, this
-time, as she is no longer assisted by the force of gravity, the thread
-is extracted in another manner. The two hind-legs, with a quick
-alternate action, draw it from the wallet and let it go.
-
-On returning to her starting-point, at a height of six feet or more,
-the Spider is now in possession of a double line, bent into a loop and
-floating loosely in a current of air. She fixes her end where it suits
-her and waits until the other end, wafted by the wind, has fastened its
-loop to the adjacent twigs.
-
-Feeling her thread fixed, the Epeira runs along it repeatedly, from end
-to end, adding a fibre to it on each journey. Whether I help or not,
-this forms the "suspension cable," the main piece of the framework. I
-call it a cable, in spite of its extreme thinness, because of its
-structure. It looks as though it were single, but, at the two ends, it
-is seen to divide and spread, tuft-wise, into numerous constituent
-parts, which are the product of as many crossings. These diverging
-fibres, with their several contact-points, increase the steadiness of
-the two extremities.
-
-The suspension-cable is incomparably stronger than the rest of the work
-and lasts for an indefinite time. The web is generally shattered after
-the night's hunting and is nearly always rewoven on the following
-evening. After the removal of the wreckage, it is made all over again,
-on the same site, cleared of everything except the cable from which the
-new network is to hang.
-
-Once the cable is laid, in this way or in that, the Spider is in
-possession of a base that allows her to approach or withdraw from the
-leafy piers at will. From the height of the cable she lets herself slip
-to a slight depth, varying the points of her fall. In this way she
-obtains, to right and left, a few slanting cross-bars, connecting the
-cable with the branches.
-
-These cross-bars, in their turn, support others in ever changing
-directions. When there are enough of them, the Epeira need no longer
-resort to falls in order to extract her threads; she goes from one cord
-to the next, always wire-drawing with her hind-legs. This results in a
-combination of straight lines owning no order, save that they are kept
-in one nearly perpendicular plane. Thus is marked out a very irregular
-polygonal area, wherein the web, itself a work of magnificent
-regularity, shall presently be woven.
-
-In the lower part of the web, starting from the centre, a wide opaque
-ribbon descends zigzag-wise across the radii. This is the Epeira's
-trade-mark, the flourish of an artist initialling his creation. "Fecit
-So-and-so," she seems to say, when giving the last throw of the shuttle
-to her handiwork.
-
-That the Spider feels satisfied when, after passing and repassing from
-spoke to spoke, she finishes her spiral, is beyond a doubt: the work
-achieved ensures her food for a few days to come. But, in this
-particular case, the vanity of the spinstress has naught to say to the
-matter: the strong silk zigzag is added to impart greater firmness to
-the web.
-
-THE LIME-SNARE.
-
-The spiral network of the Epeirae possesses contrivances of fearsome
-cunning. The thread that forms it is seen with the naked eye to differ
-from that of the framework and the spokes. It glitters in the sun,
-looks as though it were knotted and gives the impression of a chaplet
-of atoms. To examine it through the lens on the web itself is scarcely
-feasible, because of the shaking of the fabric, which trembles at the
-least breath. By passing a sheet of glass under the web and lifting it,
-I take away a few pieces of thread to study, pieces that remain fixed
-to the glass in parallel lines. Lens and microscope can now play their
-part.
-
-The sight is perfectly astounding. Those threads, on the borderland
-between the visible and the invisible, are very closely twisted twine,
-similar to the gold cord of our officers' sword-knots. Moreover, they
-are hollow. The infinitely slender is a tube, a channel full of a
-viscous moisture resembling a strong solution of gum arabic. I can see
-a diaphanous trail of this moisture trickling through the broken ends.
-Under the pressure of the thin glass slide that covers them on the
-stage of the microscope, the twists lengthen out, become crinkled
-ribbons, traversed from end to end, through the middle, by a dark
-streak, which is the empty container.
-
-The fluid contents must ooze slowly through the side of those tubular
-threads, rolled into twisted strings, and thus render the network
-sticky. It is sticky, in fact, and in such a way as to provoke
-surprise. I bring a fine straw flat down upon three or four rungs of a
-sector. However gentle the contact, adhesion is at once established.
-When I lift the straw, the threads come with it and stretch to twice or
-three times their length, like a thread of india-rubber. At last, when
-over-taut, they loosen without breaking and resume their original form.
-They lengthen by unrolling their twist, they shorten by rolling it
-again; lastly, they become adhesive by taking the glaze of the gummy
-moisture wherewith they are filled.
-
-In short, the spiral thread is a capillary tube finer than any that our
-physics will ever know. It is rolled into a twist so as to possess an
-elasticity that allows it, without breaking, to yield to the tugs of
-the captured prey; it holds a supply of sticky matter in reserve in its
-tube, so as to renew the adhesive properties of the surface by
-incessant exudation, as they become impaired by exposure to the air. It
-is simply marvellous.
-
-The Epeira hunts not with springs, but with lime-snares. And such
-lime-snares! Everything is caught in them, down to the dandelion-plume
-that barely brushes against them. Nevertheless, the Epeira, who is in
-constant touch with her web, is not caught in them. Why? Because the
-Spider has contrived for herself, in the middle of her trap, a floor in
-whose construction the sticky spiral thread plays no part. There is
-here, covering a space which, in the larger webs, is about equal to the
-palm of one's hand, a neutral fabric in which the exploring straw finds
-no adhesiveness anywhere.
-
-Here, on this central resting-floor, and here only, the Epeira takes
-her stand, waiting whole days for the arrival of the game. However
-close, however prolonged her contact with this portion of the web, she
-runs no risk of sticking to it, because the gummy coating is lacking,
-as is the twisted and tubular structure, throughout the length of the
-spokes and throughout the extent of the auxiliary spiral. These pieces,
-together with the rest of the framework, are made of plain, straight,
-solid thread.
-
-But when a victim is caught, sometimes right at the edge of the web,
-the Spider has to rush up quickly, to bind it and overcome its attempts
-to free itself. She is walking then upon her network; and I do not find
-that she suffers the least inconvenience. The lime-threads are not even
-lifted by the movements of her legs.
-
-In my boyhood, when a troop of us would go, on Thursdays (The weekly
-half-day in French schools.--Translator's Note.), to try and catch a
-Goldfinch in the hemp-fields, we used, before covering the twigs with
-glue, to grease our fingers with a few drops of oil, lest we should get
-them caught in the sticky matter. Does the Epeira know the secret of
-fatty substances? Let us try.
-
-I rub my exploring straw with slightly oiled paper. When applied to the
-spiral thread of the web, it now no longer sticks to it. The principle
-is discovered. I pull out the leg of a live Epeira. Brought just as it
-is into contact with the lime-threads, it does not stick to them any
-more than to the neutral cords, whether spokes or part of the
-framework. We were entitled to expect this, judging by the Spider's
-general immunity.
-
-But here is something that wholly alters the result. I put the leg to
-soak for a quarter of an hour in disulphide of carbon, the best solvent
-of fatty matters. I wash it carefully with a brush dipped in the same
-fluid. When this washing is finished, the leg sticks to the
-snaring-thread quite easily and adheres to it just as well as anything
-else would, the unoiled straw, for instance.
-
-Did I guess aright when I judged that it was a fatty substance that
-preserved the Epeira from the snares of her sticky Catherine-wheel? The
-action of the carbon-disulphide seems to say yes. Besides, there is no
-reason why a substance of this kind, which plays so frequent a part in
-animal economy, should not coat the Spider very slightly by the mere
-act of perspiration. We used to rub our fingers with a little oil
-before handling the twigs in which the Goldfinch was to be caught; even
-so the Epeira varnishes herself with a special sweat, to operate on any
-part of her web without fear of the lime-threads.
-
-However, an unduly protracted stay on the sticky threads would have its
-drawbacks. In the long run, continual contact with those threads might
-produce a certain adhesion and inconvenience to the Spider, who must
-preserve all her agility in order to rush upon the prey before it can
-release itself. For this reason, gummy threads are never used in
-building the post of interminable waiting.
-
-It is only on her resting-floor that the Epeira sits, motionless and
-with her eight legs outspread, ready to mark the least quiver in the
-net. It is here, again, that she takes her meals, often long-drawn out,
-when the joint is a substantial one; it is hither that, after trussing
-and nibbling it, she drags her prey at the end of a thread, to consume
-it at her ease on a non-viscous mat. As a hunting-post and refectory,
-the Epeira has contrived a central space, free from glue.
-
-As for the glue itself, it is hardly possible to study its chemical
-properties, because the quantity is so slight. The microscope shows it
-trickling from the broken threads in the form of a transparent and more
-or less granular streak. The following experiment will tell us more
-about it.
-
-With a sheet of glass passed across the web, I gather a series of
-lime-threads which remain fixed in parallel lines. I cover this sheet
-with a bell-jar standing in a depth of water. Soon, in this atmosphere
-saturated with humidity, the threads become enveloped in a watery
-sheath, which gradually increases and begins to flow. The twisted shape
-has by this time disappeared; and the channel of the thread reveals a
-chaplet of translucent orbs, that is to say, a series of extremely fine
-drops.
-
-In twenty-four hours the threads have lost their contents and are
-reduced to almost invisible streaks. If I then lay a drop of water on
-the glass, I get a sticky solution similar to that which a particle of
-gum arabic might yield. The conclusion is evident: the Epeira's glue is
-a substance that absorbs moisture freely. In an atmosphere with a high
-degree of humidity, it becomes saturated and percolates by sweating
-through the side of the tubular threads.
-
-These data explain certain facts relating to the work of the net. The
-Epeirae weave at very early hours, long before dawn. Should the air
-turn misty, they sometimes leave that part of the task unfinished: they
-build the general framework, they lay the spokes, they even draw the
-auxiliary spiral, for all these parts are unaffected by excess of
-moisture; but they are very careful not to work at the lime-threads,
-which, if soaked by the fog, would dissolve into sticky shreds and lose
-their efficacy by being wetted. The net that was started will be
-finished to-morrow, if the atmosphere be favourable.
-
-While the highly-absorbent character of the snaring-thread has its
-drawbacks, it also has compensating advantages. The Epeirae, when
-hunting by day, affect those hot places, exposed to the fierce rays of
-the sun, wherein the Crickets delight. In the torrid heats of the
-dog-days, therefore, the lime-threads, but for special provisions,
-would be liable to dry up, to shrivel into stiff and lifeless
-filaments. But the very opposite happens. At the most scorching times
-of the day they continue supple, elastic and more and more adhesive.
-
-How is this brought about? By their very powers of absorption. The
-moisture of which the air is never deprived penetrates them slowly; it
-dilutes the thick contents of their tubes to the requisite degree and
-causes it to ooze through, as and when the earlier stickiness
-decreases. What bird-catcher could vie with the Garden Spider in the
-art of laying lime-snares? And all this industry and cunning for the
-capture of a Moth!
-
-I should like an anatomist endowed with better implements than mine and
-with less tired eyesight to explain to us the work of the marvellous
-rope-yard. How is the silken matter moulded into a capillary tube? How
-is this tube filled with glue and tightly twisted? And how does this
-same mill also turn out plain threads, wrought first into a framework
-and then into muslin and satin? What a number of products to come from
-that curious factory, a Spider's belly! I behold the results, but fail
-to understand the working of the machine. I leave the problem to the
-masters of the microtome and the scalpel.
-
-THE HUNT.
-
-The Epeirae are monuments of patience in their lime-snare. With her
-head down and her eight legs widespread, the Spider occupies the centre
-of the web, the receiving-point of the information sent along the
-spokes. If anywhere, behind or before, a vibration occur, the sign of a
-capture, the Epeira knows about it, even without the aid of sight. She
-hastens up at once.
-
-Until then, not a movement: one would think that the animal was
-hypnotized by her watching. At most, on the appearance of anything
-suspicious, she begins shaking her nest. This is her way of inspiring
-the intruder with awe. If I myself wish to provoke the singular alarm,
-I have but to tease the Epeira with a bit of straw. You cannot have a
-swing without an impulse of some sort. The terror-stricken Spider, who
-wishes to strike terror into others, has hit upon something much
-better. With nothing to push her, she swings with the floor of ropes.
-There is no effort, no visible exertion. Not a single part of the
-animal moves; and yet everything trembles. Violent shaking proceeds
-from apparent inertia. Rest causes commotion.
-
-When calm is restored, she resumes her attitude, ceaselessly pondering
-the harsh problem of life:
-
-"Shall I dine to-day, or not?"
-
-Certain privileged beings, exempt from those anxieties, have food in
-abundance and need not struggle to obtain it. Such is the Gentle, who
-swims blissfully in the broth of the putrefying Adder. Others--and, by
-a strange irony of fate, these are generally the most gifted--only
-manage to eat by dint of craft and patience.
-
-You are of their company, O my industrious Epeirae! So that you may
-dine, you spend your treasures of patience nightly; and often without
-result. I sympathize with your woes, for I, who am as concerned as you
-about my daily bread, I also doggedly spread my net, the net for
-catching ideas, a more elusive and less substantial prize than the
-Moth. Let us not lose heart. The best part of life is not in the
-present, still less in the past; it lies in the future, the domain of
-hope. Let us wait.
-
-All day long, the sky, of a uniform grey, has appeared to be brewing a
-storm. In spite of the threatened downpour, my neighbour, who is a
-shrewd weather-prophet, has come out of the cypress-tree and begun to
-renew her web at the regular hour. Her forecast is correct: it will be
-a fine night. See, the steaming-pan of the clouds splits open; and,
-through the apertures, the moon peeps, inquisitively. I too, lantern in
-hand, am peeping. A gust of wind from the north clears the realms on
-high; the sky becomes magnificent; perfect calm reigns below. The Moths
-begin their nightly rounds. Good! One is caught, a mighty fine one. The
-Spider will dine to-day.
-
-What happens next, in an uncertain light, does not lend itself to
-accurate observation. It is better to turn to those Garden Spiders who
-never leave their web and who hunt mainly in the daytime. The Banded
-and the Silky Epeira, both of whom live on the rosemaries in the
-enclosure, shall show us in broad daylight the innermost details of the
-tragedy.
-
-I myself place on the lime-snare a victim of my selecting. Its six legs
-are caught without more ado. If the insect raises one of its tarsi and
-pulls towards itself, the treacherous thread follows, unwinds slightly
-and, without letting go or breaking, yields to the captive's desperate
-jerks. Any limb released only tangles the others still more and is
-speedily recaptured by the sticky matter. There is no means of escape,
-except by smashing the trap with a sudden effort whereof even powerful
-insects are not always capable.
-
-Warned by the shaking of the net, the Epeira hastens up; she turns
-round about the quarry; she inspects it at a distance, so as to
-ascertain the extent of the danger before attacking. The strength of
-the snareling will decide the plan of campaign. Let us first suppose
-the usual case, that of an average head of game, a Moth or Fly of some
-sort. Facing her prisoner, the Spider contracts her abdomen slightly
-and touches the insect for a moment with the end of her spinnerets;
-then, with her front tarsi, she sets her victim spinning. The Squirrel,
-in the moving cylinder of his cage, does not display a more graceful or
-nimbler dexterity. A cross-bar of the sticky spiral serves as an axis
-for the tiny machine, which turns, turns swiftly, like a spit. It is a
-treat to the eyes to see it revolve.
-
-What is the object of this circular motion? It is this: the brief
-contact of the spinnerets has given a starting-point for a thread,
-which the Spider must now draw from her silk warehouse and gradually
-roll around the captive, so as to swathe him in a winding-sheet which
-will overpower any effort made. It is the exact process employed in our
-wire-mills: a motor-driven spool revolves and, by its action, draws the
-wire through the narrow eyelet of a steel plate, making it of the
-fineness required, and, with the same movement, winds it round and
-round its collar.
-
-Even so with the Epeira's work. The Spider's front tarsi are the motor;
-the revolving spool is the captured insect; the steel eyelet is the
-aperture of the spinnerets. To bind the subject with precision and
-dispatch nothing could be better than this inexpensive and highly
-effective method.
-
-Less frequently, a second process is employed. With a quick movement,
-the Spider herself turns round about the motionless insect, crossing
-the web first at the top and then at the bottom and gradually placing
-the fastenings of her line. The great elasticity of the lime-threads
-allows the Epeira to fling herself time after time right into the web
-and to pass through it without damaging the net.
-
-Let us now suppose the case of some dangerous game: a Praying Mantis,
-for instance, brandishing her lethal limbs, each hooked and fitted with
-a double saw; an angry Hornet, darting her awful sting; a sturdy
-Beetle, invincible under his horny armour. These are exceptional
-morsels, hardly ever known to the Epeirae. Will they be accepted, if
-supplied by my stratagems?
-
-They are, but not without caution. The game is seen to be perilous of
-approach and the Spider turns her back upon it instead of facing it;
-she trains her rope-cannon upon it. Quickly the hind-legs draw from the
-spinnerets something much better than single cords. The whole
-silk-battery works at one and the same time, firing a regular volley of
-ribbons and sheets, which a wide movement of the legs spreads fan-wise
-and flings over the entangled prisoner. Guarding against sudden starts,
-the Epeira casts her armfuls of bands on the front- and hind-parts,
-over the legs and over the wings, here, there and everywhere,
-extravagantly. The most fiery prey is promptly mastered under this
-avalanche. In vain the Mantis tries to open her saw-toothed arm-guards;
-in vain the Hornet makes play with her dagger; in vain the Beetle
-stiffens his legs and arches his back: a fresh wave of threads swoops
-down and paralyses every effort.
-
-The ancient retiarius, when pitted against a powerful wild beast,
-appeared in the arena with a rope-net folded over his left shoulder.
-The animal made its spring. The man, with a sudden movement of his
-right arm, cast the net after the manner of the fisherman; he covered
-the beast and tangled it in the meshes. A thrust of the trident gave
-the quietus to the vanquished foe.
-
-The Epeira acts in like fashion, with this advantage, that she is able
-to renew her armful of fetters. Should the first not suffice, a second
-instantly follows and another and yet another, until the reserves of
-silk become exhausted.
-
-When all movement ceases under the snowy winding-sheet, the Spider goes
-up to her bound prisoner. She has a better weapon than the bestiarius'
-trident: she has her poison-fangs. She gnaws at the Locust, without
-undue persistence, and then withdraws, leaving the torpid patient to
-pine away.
-
-These lavished, far-flung ribbons threaten to exhaust the factory; it
-would be much more economical to resort to the method of the spool;
-but, to turn the machine, the Spider would have to go up to it and work
-it with her leg. This is too risky; and hence the continuous spray of
-silk, at a safe distance. When all is used up, there is more to come.
-
-Still, the Epeira seems concerned at this excessive outlay. When
-circumstances permit, she gladly returns to the mechanism of the
-revolving spool. I saw her practice this abrupt change of tactics on a
-big Beetle, with a smooth, plump body, which lent itself admirably to
-the rotary process. After depriving the beast of all power of movement,
-she went up to it and turned her corpulent victim as she would have
-done with a medium-sized Moth.
-
-But with the Praying Mantis, sticking out her long legs and her
-spreading wings, rotation is no longer feasible. Then, until the quarry
-is thoroughly subdued, the spray of bandages goes on continuously, even
-to the point of drying up the silk glands. A capture of this kind is
-ruinous. It is true that, except when I interfered, I have never seen
-the Spider tackle that formidable provender.
-
-Be it feeble or strong, the game is now neatly trussed, by one of the
-two methods. The next move never varies. The bound insect is bitten,
-without persistency and without any wound that shows. The Spider next
-retires and allows the bite to act, which it soon does. She then
-returns.
-
-If the victim be small, a Clothes-moth, for instance, it is consumed on
-the spot, at the place where it was captured. But, for a prize of some
-importance, on which she hopes to feast for many an hour, sometimes for
-many a day, the Spider needs a sequestered dining-room, where there is
-naught to fear from the stickiness of the network. Before going to it,
-she first makes her prey turn in the converse direction to that of the
-original rotation. Her object is to free the nearest spokes, which
-supplied pivots for the machinery. They are essential factors which it
-behoves her to keep intact, if need be by sacrificing a few cross-bars.
-
-It is done; the twisted ends are put back into position. The
-well-trussed game is at last removed from the web and fastened on
-behind with a thread. The Spider then marches in front and the load is
-trundled across the web and hoisted to the resting-floor, which is both
-an inspection-post and a dining-hall. When the Spider is of a species
-that shuns the light and possesses a telegraph-line, she mounts to her
-daytime hiding-place along this line, with the game bumping against her
-heels.
-
-While she is refreshing herself, let us enquire into the effects of the
-little bite previously administered to the silk-swathed captive. Does
-the Spider kill the patient with a view to avoiding unseasonable jerks,
-protests so disagreeable at dinner-time? Several reasons make me doubt
-it. In the first place, the attack is so much veiled as to have all the
-appearance of a mere kiss. Besides, it is made anywhere, at the first
-spot that offers. The expert slayers employ methods of the highest
-precision: they give a stab in the neck, or under the throat; they
-wound the cervical nerve-centres, the seat of energy. The paralysers,
-those accomplished anatomists, poison the motor nerve-centres, of which
-they know the number and position. The Epeira possesses none of this
-fearsome knowledge. She inserts her fangs at random, as the Bee does
-her sting. She does not select one spot rather than another; she bites
-indifferently at whatever comes within reach. This being so, her poison
-would have to possess unparalleled virulence to produce a corpse-like
-inertia no matter which the point attacked. I can scarcely believe in
-instantaneous death resulting from the bite, especially in the case of
-insects, with their highly-resistant organisms.
-
-Besides, is it really a corpse that the Epeira wants, she who feeds on
-blood much more than on flesh? It were to her advantage to suck a live
-body, wherein the flow of the liquids, set in movement by the pulsation
-of the dorsal vessel, that rudimentary heart of insects, must act more
-freely than in a lifeless body, with its stagnant fluids. The game
-which the Spider means to suck dry might very well not be dead. This is
-easily ascertained.
-
-I place some Locusts of different species on the webs in my menagerie,
-one on this, another on that. The Spider comes rushing up, binds the
-prey, nibbles at it gently and withdraws, waiting for the bite to take
-effect. I then take the insect and carefully strip it of its silken
-shroud. The Locust is not dead; far from it; one would even think that
-he had suffered no harm. I examine the released prisoner through the
-lens in vain; I can see no trace of a wound.
-
-Can he be unscathed, in spite of the sort of kiss which I saw given to
-him just now? You would be ready to say so, judging by the furious way
-in which he kicks in my fingers. Nevertheless, when put on the ground,
-he walks awkwardly, he seems reluctant to hop. Perhaps it is a
-temporary trouble, caused by his terrible excitement in the web. It
-looks as though it would soon pass.
-
-I lodge my Locusts in cages, with a lettuce-leaf to console them for
-their trials; but they will not be comforted. A day elapses, followed
-by a second. Not one of them touches the leaf of salad; their appetite
-has disappeared. Their movements become more uncertain, as though
-hampered by irresistible torpor. On the second day they are dead,
-everyone irrecoverably dead.
-
-The Epeira, therefore, does not incontinently kill her prey with her
-delicate bite; she poisons it so as to produce a gradual weakness,
-which gives the blood-sucker ample time to drain her victim, without
-the least risk, before the rigor mortis stops the flow of moisture.
-
-The meal lasts quite twenty-four hours, if the joint be large; and to
-the very end the butchered insect retains a remnant of life, a
-favourable condition for the exhausting of the juices. Once again, we
-see a skilful method of slaughter, very different from the tactics in
-use among the expert paralysers or slayers. Here there is no display of
-anatomical science. Unacquainted with the patient's structure, the
-Spider stabs at random. The virulence of the poison does the rest.
-
-There are, however, some very few cases in which the bite is speedily
-mortal. My notes speak of an Angular Epeira grappling with the largest
-Dragon-fly in my district (Aeshna grandis, Lin.) I myself had entangled
-in the web this head of big game, which is not often captured by the
-Epeirae. The net shakes violently, seems bound to break its moorings.
-The Spider rushes from her leafy villa, runs boldly up to the giantess,
-flings a single bundle of ropes at her and, without further
-precautions, grips her with her legs, tries to subdue her and then digs
-her fangs into the Dragon-fly's back. The bite is prolonged in such a
-way as to astonish me. This is not the perfunctory kiss with which I am
-already familiar; it is a deep, determined wound. After striking her
-blow, the Spider retires to a certain distance and waits for her poison
-to take effect.
-
-I at once remove the Dragon-fly. She is dead, really and truly dead.
-Laid upon my table and left alone for twenty-four hours, she makes not
-the slightest movement. A prick of which my lens cannot see the marks,
-so sharp-pointed are the Epeira's weapons, was enough, with a little
-insistence, to kill the powerful animal. Proportionately, the
-Rattlesnake, the Horned Viper, the Trigonocephalus and other ill-famed
-serpents produce less paralysing effects upon their victims.
-
-And these Epeirae, so terrible to insects, I am able to handle without
-any fear. My skin does not suit them. If I persuaded them to bite me,
-what would happen to me? Hardly anything. We have more cause to dread
-the sting of a nettle than the dagger which is fatal to Dragon-flies.
-The same virus acts differently upon this organism and that, is
-formidable here and quite mild there. What kills the insect may easily
-be harmless to us. Let us not, however, generalize too far. The
-Narbonne Lycosa, that other enthusiastic insect-huntress, would make us
-pay dearly if we attempted to take liberties with her.
-
-It is not uninteresting to watch the Epeira at dinner. I light upon
-one, the Banded Epeira, at the moment, about three o'clock in the
-afternoon, when she has captured a Locust. Planted in the centre of the
-web, on her resting-floor, she attacks the venison at the joint of a
-haunch. There is no movement, not even of the mouth-parts, so far as I
-am able to discover. The mouth lingers, close-applied, at the point
-originally bitten. There are no intermittent mouthfuls, with the
-mandibles moving backwards and forwards. It is a sort of continuous
-kiss.
-
-I visit my Epeira at intervals. The mouth does not change its place. I
-visit her for the last time at nine o'clock in the evening. Matters
-stand exactly as they did: after six hours' consumption, the mouth is
-still sucking at the lower end of the right haunch. The fluid contents
-of the victim are transferred to the ogress's belly, I know not how.
-
-Next morning, the Spider is still at table. I take away her dish.
-Naught remains of the Locust but his skin, hardly altered in shape, but
-utterly drained and perforated in several places. The method,
-therefore, was changed during the night. To extract the non-fluent
-residue, the viscera and muscles, the stiff cuticle had to be tapped
-here, there and elsewhere, after which the tattered husk, placed bodily
-in the press of the mandibles, would have been chewed, re-chewed and
-finally reduced to a pill, which the sated Spider throws up. This would
-have been the end of the victim, had I not taken it away before the
-time.
-
-Whether she wound or kill, the Epeira bites her captive somewhere or
-other, no matter where. This is an excellent method on her part,
-because of the variety of the game that comes her way. I see her
-accepting with equal readiness whatever chance may send her:
-Butterflies and Dragon-flies, Flies and Wasps, small Dung-beetles and
-Locusts. If I offer her a Mantis, a Bumble-bee, an Anoxia--the
-equivalent of the common Cockchafer--and other dishes probably unknown
-to her race, she accepts all and any, large and small, thin-skinned and
-horny-skinned, that which goes afoot and that which takes winged
-flight. She is omnivorous, she preys on everything, down to her own
-kind, should the occasion offer.
-
-Had she to operate according to individual structure, she would need an
-anatomical dictionary; and instinct is essentially unfamiliar with
-generalities: its knowledge is always confined to limited points. The
-Cerceres know their Weevils and their Buprestis-beetles absolutely; the
-Sphex their Grasshoppers, their Crickets and their Locusts; the Scoliae
-their Cetonia- and Oryctes-grubs. (The Scolia is a Digger-wasp, like
-the Cerceris and the Sphex, and feeds her larvae on the grubs of the
-Cetonia, or Rose-chafer, and the Oryctes, or
-Rhinoceros-beetle.--Translator's Note.) Even so the other paralysers.
-Each has her own victim and knows nothing of any of the others.
-
-The same exclusive tastes prevail among the slayers. Let us remember,
-in this connection, Philanthus apivorus and, especially, the Thomisus,
-the comely Spider who cuts Bees' throats. They understand the fatal
-blow, either in the neck or under the chin, a thing which the Epeira
-does not understand; but, just because of this talent, they are
-specialists. Their province is the Domestic Bee.
-
-Animals are a little like ourselves: they excel in an art only on
-condition of specializing in it. The Epeira, who, being omnivorous, is
-obliged to generalize, abandons scientific methods and makes up for
-this by distilling a poison capable of producing torpor and even death,
-no matter what the point attacked.
-
-Recognizing the large variety of game, we wonder how the Epeira manages
-not to hesitate amid those many diverse forms, how, for instance, she
-passes from the Locust to the Butterfly, so different in appearance. To
-attribute to her as a guide an extensive zoological knowledge were
-wildly in excess of what we may reasonably expect of her poor
-intelligence. The thing moves, therefore it is worth catching: this
-formula seems to sum up the Spider's wisdom.
-
-THE TELEGRAPH-WIRE.
-
-Of the six Garden Spiders that form the object of my observations, two
-only, the Banded and the Silky Epeira, remain constantly in their webs,
-even under the blinding rays of a fierce sun. The others, as a rule, do
-not show themselves until nightfall. At some distance from the net they
-have a rough-and-ready retreat in the brambles, an ambush made of a few
-leaves held together by stretched threads. It is here that, for the
-most part, they remain in the daytime, motionless and sunk in
-meditation.
-
-But the shrill light that vexes them is the joy of the fields. At such
-times the Locust hops more nimbly than ever, more gaily skims the
-Dragon-fly. Besides, the limy web, despite the rents suffered during
-the night, is still in serviceable condition. If some giddy-pate allow
-himself to be caught, will the Spider, at the distance whereto she has
-retired, be unable to take advantage of the windfall? Never fear. She
-arrives in a flash. How is she apprised? Let us explain the matter.
-
-The alarm is given by the vibration of the web, much more than by the
-sight of the captured object. A very simple experiment will prove this.
-I lay upon a Banded Epeira's lime-threads a Locust that second
-asphyxiated with carbon disulphide. The carcass is placed in front, or
-behind, or at either side of the Spider, who sits moveless in the
-centre of the net. If the test is to be applied to a species with a
-daytime hiding-place amid the foliage, the dead Locust is laid on the
-web, more or less near the centre, no matter how.
-
-In both cases, nothing happens at first. The Epeira remains in her
-motionless attitude, even when the morsel is at a short distance in
-front of her. She is indifferent to the presence of the game, does not
-seem to perceive it, so much so that she ends by wearing out my
-patience. Then, with a long straw, which enables me to conceal myself
-slightly, I set the dead insect trembling.
-
-That is quite enough. The Banded Epeira and the Silky Epeira hasten to
-the central floor; the others come down from the branch; all go to the
-Locust, swathe him with tape, treat him, in short, as they would treat
-a live prey captured under normal conditions. It took the shaking of
-the web to decide them to attack.
-
-Perhaps the grey colour of the Locust is not sufficiently conspicuous
-to attract attention by itself. Then let us try red, the brightest
-colour to our retina and probably also to the Spiders'. None of the
-game hunted by the Epeirae being clad in scarlet, I make a small bundle
-out of red wool, a bait of the size of a Locust. I glue it to the web.
-
-My stratagem succeeds. As long as the parcel is stationary, the Spider
-is not roused; but, the moment it trembles, stirred by my straw, she
-runs up eagerly.
-
-There are silly ones who just touch the thing with their legs and,
-without further enquiries, swathe it in silk after the manner of the
-usual game. They even go so far as to dig their fangs into the bait,
-following the rule of the preliminary poisoning. Then and then only the
-mistake is recognized and the tricked Spider retires and does not come
-back, unless it be long afterwards, when she flings the lumbersome
-object out of the web.
-
-There are also clever ones. Like the others, these hasten to the
-red-woollen lure, which my straw insidiously keeps moving; they come
-from their tent among the leaves as readily as from the centre of the
-web; they explore it with their palpi and their legs; but, soon
-perceiving that the thing is valueless, they are careful not to spend
-their silk on useless bonds. My quivering bait does not deceive them.
-It is flung out after a brief inspection.
-
-Still, the clever ones, like the silly ones, run even from a distance,
-from their leafy ambush. How do they know? Certainly not by sight.
-Before recognizing their mistake, they have to hold the object between
-their legs and even to nibble at it a little. They are extremely
-short-sighted. At a hand's-breadth's distance, the lifeless prey,
-unable to shake the web, remains unperceived. Besides, in many cases,
-the hunting takes place in the dense darkness of the night, when sight,
-even if it were good, would not avail.
-
-If the eyes are insufficient guides, even close at hand, how will it be
-when the prey has to be spied from afar? In that case, an intelligence
-apparatus for long-distance work becomes indispensable. We have no
-difficulty in detecting the apparatus.
-
-Let us look attentively behind the web of any Epeira with a daytime
-hiding-place: we shall see a thread that starts from the centre of the
-network, ascends in a slanting line outside the plane of the web and
-ends at the ambush where the Spider lurks all day. Except at the
-central point, there is no connection between this thread and the rest
-of the work, no interweaving with the scaffolding-threads. Free of
-impediment, the line runs straight from the centre of the net to the
-ambush-tent. Its length averages twenty-two inches. The Angular Epeira,
-settled high up in the trees, has shown me some as long as eight or
-nine feet.
-
-There is no doubt that this slanting line is a foot-bridge which allows
-the Spider to repair hurriedly to the web, when summoned by urgent
-business, and then, when her round is finished, to return to her hut.
-In fact, it is the road which I see her follow, in going and coming.
-But is that all? No; for, if the Epeira had no aim in view but a means
-of rapid transit between her tent and the net, the foot-bridge would be
-fastened to the upper edge of the web. The journey would be shorter and
-the <DW72> less steep.
-
-Why, moreover, does this line always start in the centre of the sticky
-network and nowhere else? Because that is the point where the spokes
-meet and, therefore, the common centre of vibration. Anything that
-moves upon the web sets it shaking. All then that is needed is a thread
-issuing from this central point to convey to a distance the news of a
-prey struggling in some part or other of the net. The slanting cord,
-extending outside the plane of the web, is more than a foot-bridge: it
-is, above all, a signalling-apparatus, a telegraph-wire.
-
-Let us try experiment. I place a Locust on the network. Caught in the
-sticky toils, he plunges about. Forthwith, the Spider issues
-impetuously from her hut, comes down the foot-bridge, makes a rush for
-the Locust, wraps him up and operates on him according to rule. Soon
-after, she hoists him, fastened by a line to her spinneret, and drags
-him to her hiding-place, where a long banquet will be held. So far,
-nothing new: things happen as usual.
-
-I leave the Spider to mind her own affairs for some days before I
-interfere with her. I again propose to give her a Locust; but this time
-I first cut the signalling-thread with a touch of the scissors, without
-shaking any part of the edifice. The game is then laid on the web.
-Complete success: the entangled insect struggles, sets the net
-quivering; the Spider, on her side, does not stir, as though heedless
-of events.
-
-The idea might occur to one that, in this business, the Epeira stays
-motionless in her cabin since she is prevented from hurrying down,
-because the foot-bridge is broken. Let us undeceive ourselves: for one
-road open to her there are a hundred, all ready to bring her to the
-place where her presence is now required. The network is fastened to
-the branches by a host of lines, all of them very easy to cross. Well,
-the Epeira embarks upon none of them, but remains moveless and
-self-absorbed.
-
-Why? Because her telegraph, being out of order, no longer tells her of
-the shaking of the web. The captured prey is too far off for her to see
-it; she is all unwitting. A good hour passes, with the Locust still
-kicking, the Spider impassive, myself watching. Nevertheless, in the
-end, the Epeira wakes up: no longer feeling the signalling-thread,
-broken by my scissors, as taut as usual under her legs, she comes to
-look into the state of things. The web is reached, without the least
-difficulty, by one of the lines of the framework, the first that
-offers. The Locust is then perceived and forthwith enswathed, after
-which the signalling-thread is remade, taking the place of the one
-which I have broken. Along this road the Spider goes home, dragging her
-prey behind her.
-
-My neighbour, the mighty Angular Epeira, with her telegraph-wire nine
-feet long, has even better things in store for me. One morning I find
-her web, which is now deserted, almost intact, a proof that the night's
-hunting has not been good. The animal must be hungry. With a piece of
-game for a bait, I hope to bring her down from her lofty retreat.
-
-I entangle in the web a rare morsel, a Dragon-fly, who struggles
-desperately and sets the whole net a-shaking. The other, up above,
-leaves her lurking-place amid the cypress-foliage, strides swiftly down
-along her telegraph-wire, comes to the Dragon-fly, trusses her and at
-once climbs home again by the same road, with her prize dangling at her
-heels by a thread. The final sacrifice will take place in the quiet of
-the leafy sanctuary.
-
-A few days later I renew my experiment under the same conditions, but,
-this time, I first cut the signalling-thread. In vain I select a large
-Dragon-fly, a very restless prisoner; in vain I exert my patience: the
-Spider does not come down all day. Her telegraph being broken, she
-receives no notice of what is happening nine feet below. The entangled
-morsel remains where it lies, not despised, but unknown. At nightfall
-the Epeira leaves her cabin, passes over the ruins of her web, finds
-the Dragon-fly and eats him on the spot, after which the net is
-renewed.
-
-The Epeirae, who occupy a distant retreat by day, cannot do without a
-private wire that keeps them in permanent communication with the
-deserted web. All of them have one, in point of fact, but only when age
-comes, age prone to rest and to long slumbers. In their youth, the
-Epeirae, who are then very wide awake, know nothing of the art of
-telegraphy. Besides, their web, a short-lived work whereof hardly a
-trace remains on the morrow, does not allow of this kind of industry.
-It is no use going to the expense of a signalling-apparatus for a
-ruined snare wherein nothing can now be caught. Only the old Spiders,
-meditating or dozing in their green tent, are warned from afar, by
-telegraph, of what takes place on the web.
-
-To save herself from keeping a close watch that would degenerate into
-drudgery and to remain alive to events even when resting, with her back
-turned on the net, the ambushed Spider always has her foot upon the
-telegraph-wire. Of my observations on this subject, let me relate the
-following, which will be sufficient for our purpose.
-
-An Angular Epeira, with a remarkably fine belly, has spun her web
-between two laurustine-shrubs, covering a width of nearly a yard. The
-sun beats upon the snare, which is abandoned long before dawn. The
-Spider is in her day manor, a resort easily discovered by following the
-telegraph-wire. It is a vaulted chamber of dead leaves, joined together
-with a few bits of silk. The refuge is deep: the Spider disappears in
-it entirely, all but her rounded hind-quarters, which bar the entrance
-to her donjon.
-
-With her front half plunged into the back of her hut, the Epeira
-certainly cannot see her web. Even if she had good sight, instead of
-being purblind, her position could not possibly allow her to keep the
-prey in view. Does she give up hunting during this period of bright
-sunlight? Not at all. Look again.
-
-Wonderful! One of her hind-legs is stretched outside the leafy cabin;
-and the signalling-thread ends just at the tip of that leg. Whoso has
-not seen the Epeira in this attitude, with her hand, so to speak, on
-the telegraph-receiver, knows nothing of one of the most curious
-instances of animal cleverness. Let any game appear upon the scene; and
-the slumberer, forthwith aroused by means of the leg receiving the
-vibrations, hastens up. A Locust whom I myself lay on the web procures
-her this agreeable shock and what follows. If she is satisfied with her
-bag, I am still more satisfied with what I have learnt.
-
-One word more. The web is often shaken by the wind. The different parts
-of the framework, tossed and teased by the eddying air-currents, cannot
-fail to transmit their vibration to the signalling-thread.
-Nevertheless, the Spider does not quit her hut and remains indifferent
-to the commotion prevailing in the net. Her line, therefore, is
-something better than a bell-rope that pulls and communicates the
-impulse given: it is a telephone capable, like our own, of transmitting
-infinitesimal waves of sound. Clutching her telephone-wire with a toe,
-the Spider listens with her leg; she perceives the innermost
-vibrations; she distinguishes between the vibration proceeding from a
-prisoner and the mere shaking caused by the wind.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER 11. THE EUMENES.
-
-A wasp-like garb of motley black and yellow; a slender and graceful
-figure; wings not spread out flat, when resting, but folded lengthwise
-in two; the abdomen a sort of chemist's retort, which swells into a
-gourd and is fastened to the thorax by a long neck, first distending
-into a pear, then shrinking to a thread; a leisurely and silent flight;
-lonely habits. There we have a summary sketch of the Eumenes. My part
-of the country possesses two species: the larger, Eumenes Amedei, Lep.,
-measures nearly an inch in length; the other, Eumenes pomiformis,
-Fabr., is a reduction of the first to the scale of one-half. (I include
-three species promiscuously under this one name, that is to say,
-Eumenes pomiformis, Fabr., E. bipunctis, Sauss., and E. dubius, Sauss.
-As I did not distinguish between them in my first investigations, which
-date a very long time back, it is not possible for me to ascribe to
-each of them its respective nest. But their habits are the same, for
-which reason this confusion does not injuriously affect the order of
-ideas in the present chapter.--Author's Note.)
-
-Similar in form and colouring, both possess a like talent for
-architecture; and this talent is expressed in a work of the highest
-perfection which charms the most untutored eye. Their dwelling is a
-masterpiece. The Eumenes follow the profession of arms, which is
-unfavourable to artistic effort; they stab a prey with their sting;
-they pillage and plunder. They are predatory Hymenoptera, victualling
-their grubs with caterpillars. It will be interesting to compare their
-habits with those of the operator on the Grey Worm. (Ammophila hirsuta,
-who hunts the Grey Worm, the caterpillar of Noctua segetum, the Dart or
-Turnip Moth.--Translator's Note.) Though the quarry--caterpillars in
-either case--remain the same, perhaps instinct, which is liable to vary
-with the species, has fresh glimpses in store for us. Besides, the
-edifice built by the Eumenes in itself deserves inspection.
-
-The Hunting Wasps whose story we have described in former volumes are
-wonderfully well versed in the art of wielding the lancet; they astound
-us with their surgical methods, which they seem to have learnt from
-some physiologist who allows nothing to escape him; but those skilful
-slayers have no merit as builders of dwelling-houses. What is their
-home, in point of fact? An underground passage, with a cell at the end
-of it; a gallery, an excavation, a shapeless cave. It is miner's work,
-navvy's work: vigorous sometimes, artistic never. They use the pick-axe
-for loosening, the crowbar for shifting, the rake for extracting the
-materials, but never the trowel for laying. Now in the Eumenes we see
-real masons, who build their houses bit by bit with stone and mortar
-and run them up in the open, either on the firm rock or on the shaky
-support of a bough. Hunting alternates with architecture; the insect is
-a Nimrod or a Vitruvius by turns. (Marcus Vitruvius Pollio, the Roman
-architect and engineer.--Translator's Note.)
-
-And, first of all, what sites do these builders select for their homes?
-Should you pass some little garden-wall, facing south, in a
-sun-scorched corner, look at the stones that are not covered with
-plaster, look at them one by one, especially the largest; examine the
-masses of boulders, at no great height from the ground, where the
-fierce rays have heated them to the temperature of a Turkish bath; and,
-perhaps, if you seek long enough, you will light upon the structure of
-Eumenes Amedei. The insect is scarce and lives apart; a meeting is an
-event upon which we must not count with too great confidence. It is an
-African species and loves the heat that ripens the carob and the date.
-It haunts the sunniest spots and selects rocks or firm stones as a
-foundation for its nest. Sometimes also, but seldom, it copies the
-Chalicodoma of the Walls and builds upon an ordinary pebble. (Or
-Mason-bee.--Translator's Note.)
-
-Eumenes pomiformis is much more common and is comparatively indifferent
-to the nature of the foundation whereon she erects her cells. She
-builds on walls, on isolated stones, on the wood of the inner surface
-of half-closed shutters; or else she adopts an aerial base, the slender
-twig of a shrub, the withered sprig of a plant of some sort. Any form
-of support serves her purpose. Nor does she trouble about shelter. Less
-chilly than her African cousin, she does not shun the unprotected
-spaces exposed to every wind that blows.
-
-When erected on a horizontal surface, where nothing interferes with it,
-the structure of Eumenes Amedei is a symmetrical cupola, a spherical
-skull-cap, with, at the top, a narrow passage just wide enough for the
-insect, and surmounted by a neatly funnelled neck. It suggests the
-round hut of the Eskimo or of the ancient Gael, with its central
-chimney. Two centimetres and a half (.97 inch.--Translator's Note.),
-more or less, represent the diameter, and two centimetres the height.
-(.78 inch.--Translator's Note.) When the support is a perpendicular
-plane, the building still retains the domed shape, but the entrance-
-and exit-funnel opens at the side, upwards. The floor of this apartment
-calls for no labour: it is supplied direct by the bare stone.
-
-Having chosen the site, the builder erects a circular fence about three
-millimetres thick. (.118 inch.--Translator's Note.) The materials
-consist of mortar and small stones. The insect selects its stone-quarry
-in some well-trodden path, on some neighbouring road, at the driest,
-hardest spots. With its mandibles, it scrapes together a small quantity
-of dust and saturates it with saliva until the whole becomes a regular
-hydraulic mortar which soon sets and is no longer susceptible to water.
-The Mason-bees have shown us a similar exploitation of the beaten paths
-and of the road-mender's macadam. All these open-air builders, all
-these erectors of monuments exposed to wind and weather require an
-exceedingly dry stone-dust; otherwise the material, already moistened
-with water, would not properly absorb the liquid that is to give it
-cohesion; and the edifice would soon be wrecked by the rains. They
-possess the sense of discrimination of the plasterer, who rejects
-plaster injured by damp. We shall see presently how the insects that
-build under shelter avoid this laborious macadam-scraping and give the
-preference to fresh earth already reduced to a paste by its own
-dampness. When common lime answers our purpose, we do not trouble about
-Roman cement. Now Eumenes Amedei requires a first-class cement, even
-better than that of the Chalicodoma of the Walls, for the work, when
-finished, does not receive the thick covering wherewith the Mason-bee
-protects her cluster of cells. And therefore the cupola-builder, as
-often as she can, uses the highway as her stone-pit.
-
-With the mortar, flints are needed. These are bits of gravel of an
-almost unvarying size--that of a peppercorn--but of a shape and kind
-differing greatly, according to the places worked. Some are
-sharp-cornered, with facets determined by chance fractures; some are
-round, polished by friction under water. Some are of limestone, others
-of silicic matter. The favourite stones, when the neighbourhood of the
-nest permits, are little nodules of quartz, smooth and semitransparent.
-These are selected with minute care. The insect weighs them, so to say,
-measures them with the compass of its mandibles and does not accept
-them until after recognizing in them the requisite qualities of size
-and hardness.
-
-A circular fence, we were saying, is begun on the bare rock. Before the
-mortar sets, which does not take long, the mason sticks a few stones
-into the soft mass, as the work advances. She dabs them half-way into
-the cement, so as to leave them jutting out to a large extent, without
-penetrating to the inside, where the wall must remain smooth for the
-sake of the larva's comfort. If necessary, a little plaster is added,
-to tone down the inner protuberances. The solidly embedded stonework
-alternates with the pure mortarwork, of which each fresh course
-receives its facing of tiny encrusted pebbles. As the edifice is
-raised, the builder <DW72>s the construction a little towards the centre
-and fashions the curve which will give the spherical shape. We employ
-arched centrings to support the masonry of a dome while building: the
-Eumenes, more daring than we, erects her cupola without any
-scaffolding.
-
-A round orifice is contrived at the summit; and, on this orifice, rises
-a funnelled mouthpiece built of pure cement. It might be the graceful
-neck of some Etruscan vase. When the cell is victualled and the egg
-laid, this mouthpiece is closed with a cement plug; and in this plug is
-set a little pebble, one alone, no more: the ritual never varies. This
-work of rustic architecture has naught to fear from the inclemency of
-the weather; it does not yield to the pressure of the fingers; it
-resists the knife that attempts to remove it without breaking it. Its
-nipple shape and the bits of gravel wherewith it bristles all over the
-outside remind one of certain cromlechs of olden time, of certain
-tumuli whose domes are strewn with Cyclopean stones.
-
-Such is the appearance of the edifice when the cell stands alone; but
-the Hymenopteron nearly always fixes other domes against her first, to
-the number of five, six, or more. This shortens the labour by allowing
-her to use the same partition for two adjoining rooms. The original
-elegant symmetry is lost and the whole now forms a cluster which, at
-first sight, appears to be merely a clod of dry mud, sprinkled with
-tiny pebbles. But let us examine the shapeless mass more closely and we
-shall perceive the number of chambers composing the habitation with the
-funnelled mouths, each quite distinct and each furnished with its
-gravel stopper set in the cement.
-
-The Chalicodoma of the Walls employs the same building methods as
-Eumenes Amedei: in the courses of cement she fixes, on the outside,
-small stones of minor bulk. Her work begins by being a turret of rustic
-art, not without a certain prettiness; then, when the cells are placed
-side by side, the whole construction degenerates into a lump governed
-apparently by no architectural rule. Moreover, the Mason-bee covers her
-mass of cells with a thick layer of cement, which conceals the original
-rockwork edifice. The Eumenes does not resort to this general coating:
-her building is too strong to need it; she leaves the pebbly facings
-uncovered, as well as the entrances to the cells. The two sorts of
-nests, although constructed of similar materials, are therefore easily
-distinguished.
-
-The Eumenes' cupola is the work of an artist; and the artist would be
-sorry to cover his masterpiece with whitewash. I crave forgiveness for
-a suggestion which I advance with all the reserve befitting so delicate
-a subject. Would it not be possible for the cromlech-builder to take a
-pride in her work, to look upon it with some affection and to feel
-gratified by this evidence of her cleverness? Might there not be an
-insect science of aesthetics? I seem at least to catch a glimpse, in
-the Eumenes, of a propensity to beautify her work. The nest must be,
-before all, a solid habitation, an inviolable stronghold; but, should
-ornament intervene without jeopardizing the power of resistance, will
-the worker remain indifferent to it? Who would say?
-
-Let us set forth the facts. The orifice at the top, if left as a mere
-hole, would suit the purpose quite as well as an elaborate door: the
-insect would lose nothing in regard to facilities for coming and going
-and would gain by shortening the labour. Yet we find, on the contrary,
-the mouth of an amphora, gracefully curved, worthy of a potter's wheel.
-A choice cement and careful work are necessary for the confection of
-its slender, funnelled shaft. Why this nice finish, if the builder be
-wholly absorbed in the solidity of her work?
-
-Here is another detail: among the bits of gravel employed for the outer
-covering of the cupola, grains of quartz predominate. They are polished
-and translucent; they glitter slightly and please the eye. Why are
-these little pebbles preferred to chips of lime-stone, when both
-materials are found in equal abundance around the nest?
-
-A yet more remarkable feature: we find pretty often, encrusted on the
-dome, a few tiny, empty snail-shells, bleached by the sun. The species
-usually selected by the Eumenes is one of the smaller Helices--Helix
-strigata--frequent on our parched <DW72>s. I have seen nests where this
-Helix took the place of pebbles almost entirely. They were like boxes
-made of shells, the work of a patient hand.
-
-A comparison offers here. Certain Australian birds, notably the
-Bower-birds, build themselves covered walks, or playhouses, with
-interwoven twigs, and decorate the two entrances to the portico by
-strewing the threshold with anything that they can find in the shape of
-glittering, polished, or bright- objects. Every door-sill is a
-cabinet of curiosities where the collector gathers smooth pebbles,
-variegated shells, empty snail-shells, parrot's feathers, bones that
-have come to look like sticks of ivory. The odds and ends mislaid by
-man find a home in the bird's museum, where we see pipe-stems, metal
-buttons, strips of cotton stuff and stone axe-heads.
-
-The collection at either entrance to the bower is large enough to fill
-half a bushel. As these objects are of no use to the bird, its only
-motive for accumulating them must be an art-lover's hobby. Our common
-Magpie has similar tastes: any shiny thing that he comes upon he picks
-up, hides and hoards.
-
-Well, the Eumenes, who shares this passion for bright pebbles and empty
-snail-shells, is the Bower-bird of the insect world; but she is a more
-practical collector, knows how to combine the useful and the ornamental
-and employs her finds in the construction of her nest, which is both a
-fortress and a museum. When she finds nodules of translucent quartz,
-she rejects everything else: the building will be all the prettier for
-them. When she comes across a little white shell, she hastens to
-beautify her dome with it; should fortune smile and empty snail-shells
-abound, she encrusts the whole fabric with them, until it becomes the
-supreme expression of her artistic taste. Is this so? Or is it not so?
-Who shall decide?
-
-The nest of Eumenes pomiformis is the size of an average cherry and
-constructed of pure mortar, without the least outward pebblework. Its
-shape is exactly similar to that which we have just described. When
-built upon a horizontal base of sufficient extent, it is a dome with a
-central neck, funnelled like the mouth of an urn. But when the
-foundation is reduced to a mere point, as on the twig of a shrub, the
-nest becomes a spherical capsule, always, of course, surmounted by a
-neck. It is then a miniature specimen of exotic pottery, a paunchy
-alcarraza. Its thickens is very slight, less than that of a sheet of
-paper; it crushes under the least effort of the fingers. The outside is
-not quite even. It displays wrinkles and seams, due to the different
-courses of mortar, or else knotty protuberances distributed almost
-concentrically.
-
-Both Hymenoptera accumulate caterpillars in their coffers, whether
-domes or jars. Let us give an abstract of the bill of fare. These
-documents, for all their dryness, possess a value; they will enable
-whoso cares to interest himself in the Eumenes to perceive to what
-extent instinct varies the diet, according to the place and season. The
-food is plentiful, but lacks variety. It consists of tiny caterpillars,
-by which I mean the grubs of small Butterflies. We learn this from the
-structure, for we observe in the prey selected by either Hymenopteran
-the usual caterpillar organism. The body is composed of twelve
-segments, not including the head. The first three have true legs, the
-next two are legless, then come two segments with prolegs, two legless
-segments and, lastly, a terminal segment with prolegs. It is exactly
-the same structure which we saw in the Ammophila's Grey Worm.
-
-My old notes give the following description of the caterpillars found
-in the nest of Eumenes Amedei: "a pale green or, less often, a
-yellowish body, covered with short white hairs; head wider than the
-front segment, dead-black and also bristling with hairs. Length: 16 to
-18 millimetres (.63 to .7 inch.--Translator's Note.); width: about 3
-millimetres." (.12 inch.--Translator's Note.) A quarter of a century
-and more has elapsed since I jotted down this descriptive sketch; and
-to-day, at Serignan, I find in the Eumenes' larder the same game which
-I noticed long ago at Carpentras. Time and distance have not altered
-the nature of the provisions.
-
-The number of morsels served for the meal of each larva interests us
-more than the quality. In the cells of Eumenes Amedei, I find sometimes
-five caterpillars and sometimes ten, which means a difference of a
-hundred per cent in the quantity of the food, for the morsels are of
-exactly the same size in both cases. Why this unequal supply, which
-gives a double portion to one larva and a single portion to another?
-The diners have the same appetite: what one nurseling demands a second
-must demand, unless we have here a different menu, according to the
-sexes. In the perfect stage the males are smaller than the females, are
-hardly half as much in weight or volume. The amount of victuals,
-therefore, required to bring them to their final development may be
-reduced by one-half. In that case, the well-stocked cells belong to
-females; the others, more meagrely supplied, belong to males.
-
-But the egg is laid when the provisions are stored; and this egg has a
-determined sex, though the most minute examination is not able to
-discover the differences which will decide the hatching of a female or
-a male. We are therefore needs driven to this strange conclusion: the
-mother knows beforehand the sex of the egg which she is about to lay;
-and this knowledge allows her to fill the larder according to the
-appetite of the future grub. What a strange world, so wholly different
-from ours! We fall back upon a special sense to explain the Ammophila's
-hunting; what can we fall back upon to account for this intuition of
-the future? Can the theory of chances play a part in the hazy problem?
-If nothing is logically arranged with a foreseen object, how is this
-clear vision of the invisible acquired?
-
-The capsules of Eumenes pomiformis are literally crammed with game. It
-is true that the morsels are very small. My notes speak of fourteen
-green caterpillars in one cell and sixteen in a second cell. I have no
-other information about the integral diet of this Wasp, whom I have
-neglected somewhat, preferring to study her cousin, the builder of
-rockwork domes. As the two sexes differ in size, although to a lesser
-degree than in the case of Eumenes Amedei, I am inclined to think that
-those two well-filled cells belonged to females and that the males'
-cells must have a less sumptuous table. Not having seen for myself, I
-am content to set down this mere suspicion.
-
-What I have seen and often seen is the pebbly nest, with the larva
-inside and the provisions partly consumed. To continue the rearing at
-home and follow my charge's progress from day to day was a business
-which I could not resist; besides, as far as I was able to see, it was
-easily managed. I had had some practice in this foster-father's trade;
-my association with the Bembex, the Ammophila, the Sphex (three species
-of Digger-wasps.--Translator's Note.) and many others had turned me
-into a passable insect-rearer. I was no novice in the art of dividing
-an old pen-box into compartments in which I laid a bed of sand and, on
-this bed, the larva and her provisions delicately removed from the
-maternal cell. Success was almost certain at each attempt: I used to
-watch the larvae at their meals, I saw my nurselings grow up and spin
-their cocoons. Relying upon the experience thus gained, I reckoned upon
-success in raising my Eumenes.
-
-The results, however, in no way answered to my expectations. All my
-endeavours failed; and the larva allowed itself to die a piteous death
-without touching its provisions.
-
-I ascribed my reverse to this, that and the other cause: perhaps I had
-injured the frail grub when demolishing the fortress; a splinter of
-masonry had bruised it when I forced open the hard dome with my knife;
-a too sudden exposure to the sun had surprised it when I withdrew it
-from the darkness of its cell; the open air might have dried up its
-moisture. I did the best I could to remedy all these probable reasons
-of failure. I went to work with every possible caution in breaking open
-the home; I cast the shadow of my body over the nest, to save the grub
-from sunstroke; I at once transferred larva and provisions into a glass
-tube and placed this tube in a box which I carried in my hand, to
-minimize the jolting on the journey. Nothing was of avail: the larva,
-when taken from its dwelling, always allowed itself to pine away.
-
-For a long time I persisted in explaining my want of success by the
-difficulties attending the removal. Eumenes Amedei's cell is a strong
-casket which cannot be forced without sustaining a shock; and the
-demolition of a work of this kind entails such varied accidents that we
-are always liable to think that the worm has been bruised by the
-wreckage. As for carrying home the nest intact on its support, with a
-view to opening it with greater care than is permitted by a
-rough-and-ready operation in the fields, that is out of the question:
-the nest nearly always stands on an immovable rock or on some big stone
-forming part of a wall. If I failed in my attempts at rearing, it was
-because the larva had suffered when I was breaking up her house. The
-reason seemed a good one; and I let it go at that.
-
-In the end, another idea occurred to me and made me doubt whether my
-rebuffs were always due to clumsy accidents. The Eumenes' cells are
-crammed with game: there are ten caterpillars in the cell of Eumenes
-Amedei and fifteen in that of Eumenes pomiformis. These caterpillars,
-stabbed no doubt, but in a manner unknown to me, are not entirely
-motionless. The mandibles seize upon what is presented to them, the
-body buckles and unbuckles, the hinder half lashes out briskly when
-stirred with the point of a needle. At what spot is the egg laid amid
-that swarming mass, where thirty mandibles can make a hole in it, where
-a hundred and twenty pairs of legs can tear it? When the victuals
-consist of a single head of game, these perils do not exist; and the
-egg is laid on the victim not at hazard, but upon a judiciously chosen
-spot. Thus, for instance, Ammophila hirsuta fixes hers, by one end,
-cross-wise, on the Grey Worm, on the side of the first prolegged
-segment. The eggs hang over the caterpillar's back, away from the legs,
-whose proximity might be dangerous. The worm, moreover, stung in the
-greater number of its nerve-centres, lies on one side, motionless and
-incapable of bodily contortions or said an jerks of its hinder
-segments. If the mandibles try to snap, if the legs give a kick or two,
-they find nothing in front of them: the Ammophila's egg is at the
-opposite side. The tiny grub is thus able, as soon as it hatches, to
-dig into the giant's belly in full security.
-
-How different are the conditions in the Eumenes' cell. The caterpillars
-are imperfectly paralysed, perhaps because they have received but a
-single stab; they toss about when touched with a pin; they are bound to
-wriggle when bitten by the larva. If the egg is laid on one of them,
-the first morsel will, I admit, be consumed without danger, on
-condition that the point of attack be wisely chosen; but there remain
-others which are not deprived of every means of defence. Let a movement
-take place in the mass; and the egg, shifted from the upper layer, will
-tumble into a pitfall of legs and mandibles. The least thing is enough
-to jeopardize its existence; and this least thing has every chance of
-being brought about in the disordered heap of caterpillars. The egg, a
-tiny cylinder, transparent as crystal, is extremely delicate: a touch
-withers it, the least pressure crushes it.
-
-No, its place is not in the mass of provisions, for the caterpillars, I
-repeat, are not sufficiently harmless. Their paralysis is incomplete,
-as is proved by their contortions when I irritate them and shown, on
-the other hand, by a very important fact. I have sometimes taken from
-Eumenes Amedei's cell a few heads of game half transformed into
-chrysalids. It is evident that the transformation was effected in the
-cell itself and, therefore, after the operation which the Wasp had
-performed upon them. Whereof does this operation consist? I cannot say
-precisely, never having seen the huntress at work. The sting most
-certainly has played its part; but where? And how often? This is what
-we do not know. What we are able to declare is that the torpor is not
-very deep, inasmuch as the patient sometimes retains enough vitality to
-shed its skin and become a chrysalid. Everything thus tends to make us
-ask by what stratagem the egg is shielded from danger.
-
-This stratagem I longed to discover; I would not be put off by the
-scarcity of nests, by the irksomeness of the searches, by the risk of
-sunstroke, by the time taken up, by the vain breaking open of
-unsuitable cells; I meant to see and I saw. Here is my method: with the
-point of a knife and a pair of nippers, I make a side opening, a
-window, beneath the dome of Eumenes Amedei and Eumenes pomiformis. I
-work with the greatest care, so as not to injure the recluse. Formerly
-I attacked the cupola from the top, now I attack it from the side. I
-stop when the breach is large enough to allow me to see the state of
-things within.
-
-What is this state of things? I pause to give the reader time to
-reflect and to think out for himself a means of safety that will
-protect the egg and afterwards the grub in the perilous conditions
-which I have set forth. Seek, think and contrive, such of you as have
-inventive minds. Have you guessed it? Do you give it up? I may as well
-tell you.
-
-The egg is not laid upon the provisions; it is hung from the top of the
-cupola by a thread which vies with that of a Spider's web for
-slenderness. The dainty cylinder quivers and swings to and fro at the
-least breath; it reminds me of the famous pendulum suspended from the
-dome of the Pantheon to prove the rotation of the earth. The victuals
-are heaped up underneath.
-
-Second act of this wondrous spectacle. In order to witness it, we must
-open a window in cell upon cell until fortune deigns to smile upon us.
-The larva is hatched and already fairly large. Like the egg, it hangs
-perpendicularly, by the rear, from the ceiling; but the suspensory cord
-has gained considerably in length and consists of the original thread
-eked out by a sort of ribbon. The grub is at dinner: head downwards, it
-is digging into the limp belly of one of the caterpillars. I touch up
-the game that is still intact with a straw. The caterpillars grow
-restless. The grub forthwith retires from the fray. And how? Marvel is
-added to marvels: what I took for a flat cord, for a ribbon, at the
-lower end of the suspensory thread, is a sheath, a scabbard, a sort of
-ascending gallery wherein the larva crawls backwards and makes its way
-up. The cast shell of the egg, retaining its cylindrical form and
-perhaps lengthened by a special operation on the part of the new-born
-grub, forms this safety-channel. At the least sign of danger in the
-heap of caterpillars, the larva retreats into its sheath and climbs
-back to the ceiling, where the swarming rabble cannot reach it. When
-peace is restored, it slides down its case and returns to table, with
-its head over the viands and its rear upturned and ready to withdraw in
-case of need.
-
-Third and last act. Strength has come; the larva is brawny enough not
-to dread the movements of the caterpillars' bodies. Besides, the
-caterpillars, mortified by fasting and weakened by a prolonged torpor,
-become more and more incapable of defence. The perils of the tender
-babe are succeeded by the security of the lusty stripling; and the
-grub, henceforth scorning its sheathed lift, lets itself drop upon the
-game that remains. And thus the banquet ends in normal fashion.
-
-That is what I saw in the nests of both species of the Eumenes and that
-is what I showed to friends who were even more surprised than I by
-these ingenious tactics. The egg hanging from the ceiling, at a
-distance from the provisions, has naught to fear from the caterpillars,
-which flounder about below. The new-hatched larva, whose suspensory
-cord is lengthened by the sheath of the egg, reaches the game and takes
-a first cautious bite at it. If there be danger, it climbs back to the
-ceiling by retreating inside the scabbard. This explains the failure of
-my earlier attempts. Not knowing of the safety-thread, so slender and
-so easily broken, I gathered at one time the egg, at another the young
-larva, after my inroads at the top had caused them to fall into the
-middle of the live victuals. Neither of them was able to thrive when
-brought into direct contact with the dangerous game.
-
-If any one of my readers, to whom I appealed just now, has thought out
-something better than the Eumenes' invention, I beg that he will let me
-know: there is a curious parallel to be drawn between the inspirations
-of reason and the inspirations of instinct.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER 12. THE OSMIAE.
-
-THEIR HABITS.
-
-February has its sunny days, heralding spring, to which rude winter
-will reluctantly yield place. In snug corners, among the rocks, the
-great spurge of our district, the characias of the Greeks, the jusclo
-of the Provencals, begins to lift its drooping inflorescence and
-discreetly opens a few sombre flowers. Here the first midges of the
-year will come to slake their thirst. By the time that the tip of the
-stalks reaches the perpendicular, the worst of the cold weather will be
-over.
-
-Another eager one, the almond-tree, risking the loss of its fruit,
-hastens to echo these preludes to the festival of the sun, preludes
-which are too often treacherous. A few days of soft skies and it
-becomes a glorious dome of white flowers, each twinkling with a roseate
-eye. The country, which still lacks green, seems dotted everywhere with
-white-satin pavilions. 'Twould be a callous heart indeed that could
-resist the magic of this awakening.
-
-The insect nation is represented at these rites by a few of its more
-zealous members. There is first of all the Honey-bee, the sworn enemy
-of strikes, who profits by the least lull of winter to find out if some
-rosemary or other is not beginning to open somewhere near the hive. The
-droning of the busy swarms fills the flowery vault, while a snow of
-petals falls softly to the foot of the tree.
-
-Together with the population of harvesters there mingles another, less
-numerous, of mere drinkers, whose nesting-time has not yet begun. This
-is the colony of the Osmiae, those exceedingly pretty solitary bees,
-with their copper-<DW52> skin and bright-red fleece. Two species have
-come hurrying up to take part in the joys of the almond-tree: first,
-the Horned Osmia, clad in black velvet on the head and breast, with red
-velvet on the abdomen; and, a little later, the Three-horned Osmia,
-whose livery must be red and red only. These are the first delegates
-despatched by the pollen-gleaners to ascertain the state of the season
-and attend the festival of the early blooms.
-
-'Tis but a moment since they burst their cocoon, the winter abode: they
-have left their retreats in the crevices of the old walls; should the
-north wind blow and set the almond-tree shivering, they will hasten to
-return to them. Hail to you, O my dear Osmiae, who yearly, from the far
-end of the harmas, opposite snow-capped Ventoux (A mountain in the
-Provencal Alps, near Carpentras and Serignan 6,271 feet.--Translator's
-Note.), bring me the first tidings of the awakening of the insect
-world! I am one of your friends; let us talk about you a little.
-
-Most of the Osmiae of my region do not themselves prepare the dwelling
-destined for the laying. They want ready-made lodgings, such as the old
-cells and old galleries of Anthophorae and Chalicodomae. If these
-favourite haunts are lacking, then a hiding-place in the wall, a round
-hole in some bit of wood, the tube of a reed, the spiral of a dead
-Snail under a heap of stones are adopted, according to the tastes of
-the several species. The retreat selected is divided into chambers by
-partition-walls, after which the entrance to the dwelling receives a
-massive seal. That is the sum-total of the building done.
-
-For this plasterer's rather than mason's work, the Horned and the
-Three-horned Osmia employ soft earth. This material is a sort of dried
-mud, which turns to pap on the addition of a drop of water. The two
-Osmiae limit themselves to gathering natural soaked earth, mud in
-short, which they allow to dry without any special preparation on their
-part; and so they need deep and well-sheltered retreats, into which the
-rain cannot penetrate, or the work would fall to pieces.
-
-Latreille's Osmia uses different materials for her partitions and her
-doors. She chews the leaves of some mucilaginous plant, some mallow
-perhaps, and then prepares a sort of green putty with which she builds
-her partitions and finally closes the entrance to the dwelling. When
-she settles in the spacious cells of the Masked Anthophora (Anthophora
-personata, Illig.), the entrance to the gallery, which is wide enough
-to admit a man's finger, is closed with a voluminous plug of this
-vegetable paste. On the earthy banks, hardened by the sun, the home is
-then betrayed by the gaudy colour of the lid. It is as though the
-authorities had closed the door and affixed to it their great seals of
-green wax.
-
-So far then as their building-materials are concerned, the Osmiae whom
-I have been able to observe are divided into two classes: one building
-compartments with mud, the other with a green-tinted vegetable putty.
-To the latter belongs Latreille's Osmia. The first section includes the
-Horned Osmia and the Three-horned Osmia, both so remarkable for the
-horny tubercles on their faces.
-
-The great reed of the south, Arundo donax, is often used, in the
-country, for making rough garden-shelters against the mistral or just
-for fences. These reeds, the ends of which are chopped off to make them
-all the same length, are planted perpendicularly in the earth. I have
-often explored them in the hope of finding Osmia-nests. My search has
-very seldom succeeded. The failure is easily explained. The partitions
-and the closing-plug of the Horned and of the Three-horned Osmia are
-made, as we have seen, of a sort of mud which water instantly reduces
-to pap. With the upright position of the reeds, the stopper of the
-opening would receive the rain and would become diluted; the ceilings
-of the storeys would fall in and the family would perish by drowning.
-Therefore the Osmia, who knew of these drawbacks before I did, refuses
-the reeds when they are placed perpendicularly.
-
-The same reed is used for a second purpose. We make canisses of it,
-that is to say, hurdles, which, in spring, serve for the rearing of
-Silkworms and, in autumn, for the drying of figs. At the end of April
-and during May, which is the time when the Osmiae work, the canisses
-are indoors, in the Silkworm nurseries, where the Bee cannot take
-possession of them; in autumn, they are outside, exposing their layers
-of figs and peeled peaches to the sun; but by that time the Osmiae have
-long disappeared. If, however, during the spring, an old, disused
-hurdle is left out of doors, in a horizontal position, the Three-horned
-Osmia often takes possession of it and makes use of the two ends, where
-the reeds lie truncated and open.
-
-There are other quarters that suit the Three-horned Osmia, who is not
-particular, it seems to me, and will make shift with any hiding-place,
-so long as it have the requisite conditions of diameter, solidity,
-sanitation and kindly darkness. The most original dwellings that I know
-her to occupy are disused Snail-shells, especially the house of the
-Common Snail (Helix aspersa). Let us go to the <DW72> of the hills thick
-with olive-trees and inspect the little supporting-walls which are
-built of dry stones and face the south. In the crevices of this
-insecure masonry we shall reap a harvest of old Snail-shells, plugged
-with earth right up to the orifice. The family of the Three-horned
-Osmia is settled in the spiral of those shells, which is subdivided
-into chambers by mud partitions.
-
-The Three-pronged Osmia (O. Tridentata, Duf. and Per.) alone creates a
-home of her own, digging herself a channel with her mandibles in dry
-bramble and sometimes in danewort.
-
-The Osmia loves mystery. She wants a dark retreat, hidden from the eye.
-I would like, nevertheless, to watch her in the privacy of her home and
-to witness her work with the same facility as if she were nest-building
-in the open air. Perhaps there are some interesting characteristics to
-be picked up in the depths of her retreats. It remains to be seen
-whether my wish can be realized.
-
-When studying the insect's mental capacity, especially its very
-retentive memory for places, I was led to ask myself whether it would
-not be possible to make a suitably-chosen Bee build in any place that I
-wished, even in my study. And I wanted, for an experiment of this sort,
-not an individual but a numerous colony. My preference lent towards the
-Three-horned Osmia, who is very plentiful in my neighbourhood, where,
-together with Latreille's Osmia, she frequents in particular the
-monstrous nests of the Chalicodoma of the Sheds. I therefore thought
-out a scheme for making the Three-horned Osmia accept my study as her
-settlement and build her nest in glass tubes, through which I could
-easily watch the progress. To these crystal galleries, which might well
-inspire a certain distrust, were to be added more natural retreats:
-reeds of every length and thickness and disused Chalicodoma-nests taken
-from among the biggest and the smallest. A scheme like this sounds mad.
-I admit it, while mentioning that perhaps none ever succeeded so well
-with me. We shall see as much presently.
-
-My method is extremely simple. All I ask is that the birth of my
-insects, that is to say, their first seeing the light, their emerging
-from the cocoon, should take place on the spot where I propose to make
-them settle. Here there must be retreats of no matter what nature, but
-of a shape similar to that in which the Osmia delights. The first
-impressions of sight, which are the most long-lived of any, shall bring
-back my insects to the place of their birth. And not only will the
-Osmiae return, through the always open windows, but they will also
-nidify on the natal spot, if they find something like the necessary
-conditions.
-
-And so, all through the winter, I collect Osmia-cocoons picked up in
-the nests of the Mason-bee of the Sheds; I go to Carpentras to glean a
-more plentiful supply in the nests of the Anthophora. I spread out my
-stock in a large open box on a table which receives a bright diffused
-light but not the direct rays of the sun. The table stands between two
-windows facing south and overlooking the garden. When the moment of
-hatching comes, those two windows will always remain open to give the
-swarm entire liberty to go in and out as it pleases. The glass tubes
-and reed-stumps are laid here and there, in fine disorder, close to the
-heaps of cocoons and all in a horizontal position, for the Osmia will
-have nothing to do with upright reeds. Although such a precaution is
-not indispensable, I take care to place some cocoons in each cylinder.
-The hatching of some of the Osmiae will therefore take place under
-cover of the galleries destined to be the building-yard later; and the
-site will be all the more deeply impressed on their memory. When I have
-made these comprehensive arrangements, there is nothing more to be
-done; and I wait patiently for the building-season to open.
-
-My Osmiae leave their cocoons in the second half of April. Under the
-immediate rays of the sun, in well-sheltered nooks, the hatching would
-occur a month earlier, as we can see from the mixed population of the
-snowy almond-tree. The constant shade in my study has delayed the
-awakening, without, however, making any change in the nesting-period,
-which synchronizes with the flowering of the thyme. We now have, around
-my working-table, my books, my jars and my various appliances, a
-buzzing crowd that goes in and out of the windows at every moment. I
-enjoin the household henceforth not to touch a thing in the insects'
-laboratory, to do no more sweeping, no more dusting. They might disturb
-a swarm and make it think that my hospitality was not to be trusted.
-During four or five weeks I witness the work of a number of Osmiae
-which is much too large to allow my watching their individual
-operations. I content myself with a few, whom I mark with
-different- spots to distinguish them; and I take no notice of
-the others, whose finished work will have my attention later.
-
-The first to appear are the males. If the sun is bright, they flutter
-around the heap of tubes as if to take careful note of the locality;
-blows are exchanged and the rival swains indulge in mild skirmishing on
-the floor, then shake the dust off their wings. They fly assiduously
-from tube to tube, placing their heads in the orifices to see if some
-female will at last make up her mind to emerge.
-
-One does, in point of fact. She is covered with dust and has the
-disordered toilet that is inseparable from the hard work of the
-deliverance. A lover has seen her, so has a second, likewise a third.
-All crowd round her. The lady responds to their advances by clashing
-her mandibles, which open and shut rapidly, several times in
-succession. The suitors forthwith fall back; and they also, no doubt to
-keep up their dignity, execute savage mandibular grimaces. Then the
-beauty retires into the arbour and her wooers resume their places on
-the threshold. A fresh appearance of the female, who repeats the play
-with her jaws; a fresh retreat of the males, who do the best they can
-to flourish their own pincers. The Osmiae have a strange way of
-declaring their passion: with that fearsome gnashing of their
-mandibles, the lovers look as though they meant to devour each other.
-It suggests the thumps affected by our yokels in their moments of
-gallantry.
-
-The ingenuous idyll is soon over. The females, who grow more numerous
-from day to day, inspect the premises; they buzz outside the glass
-galleries and the reed dwellings; they go in, stay for a while, come
-out, go in again and then fly away briskly into the garden. They
-return, first one, then another. They halt outside, in the sun, or on
-the shutters fastened back against the wall; they hover in the
-window-recess, come inside, go to the reeds and give a glance at them,
-only to set off again and to return soon after. Thus do they learn to
-know their home, thus do they fix their birthplace in their memory. The
-village of our childhood is always a cherished spot, never to be
-effaced from our recollection. The Osmia's life endures for a month;
-and she acquires a lasting remembrance of her hamlet in a couple of
-days. 'Twas there that she was born; 'twas there that she loved; 'tis
-there that she will return. Dulces reminiscitur Argos.
-
-  (Now falling by another's wound, his eyes
-  He casts to heaven, on Argos thinks and dies.
-  --"Aeneid" Book 10, Dryden's translation.)
-
-At last each has made her choice. The work of construction begins; and
-my expectations are fulfilled far beyond my wishes. The Osmiae build
-nests in all the retreats which I have placed at their disposal. And
-now, O my Osmiae, I leave you a free field!
-
-The work begins with a thorough spring-cleaning of the home. Remnants
-of cocoons, dirt consisting of spoilt honey, bits of plaster from
-broken partitions, remains of dried Mollusc at the bottom of a shell:
-these and much other insanitary refuse must first of all disappear.
-Violently the Osmia tugs at the offending object and tears it out; and
-then off she goes in a desperate hurry, to dispose of it far away from
-the study. They are all alike, these ardent sweepers: in their
-excessive zeal, they fear lest they should block up the speck of dust
-which they might drop in front of the new house. The glass tubes, which
-I myself have rinsed under the tap, are not exempt from a scrupulous
-cleaning. The Osmia dusts them, brushes them thoroughly with her tarsi
-and then sweeps them out backwards. What does she pick up? Not a thing.
-It makes no difference: as a conscientious housewife, she gives the
-place a touch of the broom nevertheless.
-
-Now for the provisions and the partition-walls. Here the order of the
-work changes according to the diameter of the cylinder. My glass tubes
-vary greatly in dimensions. The largest have an inner width of a dozen
-millimetres (Nearly half an inch.--Translator's Note.); the narrowest
-measure six or seven. (About a quarter of an inch.--Translator's Note.)
-In the latter, if the bottom suit her, the Osmia sets to work bringing
-pollen and honey. If the bottom do not suit her, if the sorghum-pith
-plug with which I have closed the rear-end of the tube be too irregular
-and badly-joined, the Bee coats it with a little mortar. When this
-small repair is made, the harvesting begins.
-
-In the wider tubes, the work proceeds quite differently. At the moment
-when the Osmia disgorges her honey and especially at the moment when,
-with her hind-tarsi, she rubs the pollen-dust from her ventral brush,
-she needs a narrow aperture, just big enough to allow of her passage. I
-imagine that in a straitened gallery the rubbing of her whole body
-against the sides gives the harvester a support for her brushing-work.
-In a spacious cylinder this support fails her; and the Osmia starts
-with creating one for herself, which she does by narrowing the channel.
-Whether it be to facilitate the storing of the victuals or for any
-other reason, the fact remains that the Osmia housed in a wide tube
-begins with the partitioning.
-
-Her division is made by a dab of clay placed at right angles to the
-axis of the cylinder, at a distance from the bottom determined by the
-ordinary length of a cell. The wad is not a complete round; it is more
-crescent-shaped, leaving a circular space between it and one side of
-the tube. Fresh layers are swiftly added to the dab of clay; and soon
-the tube is divided by a partition which has a circular opening at the
-side of it, a sort of dog-hole through which the Osmia will proceed to
-knead the Bee-bread. When the victualling is finished and the egg laid
-upon the heap, the whole is closed and the filled-up partition becomes
-the bottom of the next cell. Then the same method is repeated, that is
-to say, in front of the just completed ceiling a second partition is
-built, again with a side-passage, which is stouter, owing to its
-distance from the centre, and better able to withstand the numerous
-comings and goings of the housewife than a central orifice, deprived of
-the direct support of the wall, could hope to be. When this partition
-is ready, the provisioning of the second cell is effected; and so on
-until the wide cylinder is completely stocked.
-
-The building of this preliminary party-wall, with a narrow, round
-dog-hole, for a chamber to which the victuals will not be brought until
-later is not restricted to the Three-horned Osmia; it is also
-frequently found in the case of the Horned Osmia and of Latreille's
-Osmia. Nothing could be prettier than the work of the last-named, who
-goes to the plants for her material and fashions a delicate sheet in
-which she cuts a graceful arch. The Chinaman partitions his house with
-paper screens; Latreille's Osmia divides hers with disks of thin green
-cardboard perforated with a serving-hatch which remains until the room
-is completely furnished. When we have no glass houses at our disposal,
-we can see these little architectural refinements in the reeds of the
-hurdles, if we open them at the right season.
-
-By splitting the bramble-stumps in the course of July, we perceive also
-that the Three-pronged Osmia notwithstanding her narrow gallery,
-follows the same practice as Latreille's Osmia, with a difference. She
-does not build a party-wall, which the diameter of the cylinder would
-not permit; she confines herself to putting up a frail circular pad of
-green putty, as though to limit, before any attempt at harvesting, the
-space to be occupied by the Bee-bread, whose depth could not be
-calculated afterwards if the insect did not first mark out its
-confines.
-
-If, in order to see the Osmia's nest as a whole, we split a reed
-lengthwise, taking care not to disturb its contents; or, better still,
-if we select for examination the string of cells built in a glass tube,
-we are forthwith struck by one detail, namely, the uneven distances
-between the partitions, which are placed almost at right angles to the
-axis of the cylinder. It is these distances which fix the size of the
-chambers, which, with a similar base, have different heights and
-consequently unequal holding-capacities. The bottom partitions, the
-oldest, are farther apart; those of the front part, near the orifice,
-are closer together. Moreover, the provisions are plentiful in the
-loftier cells, whereas they are niggardly and reduced to one-half or
-even one-third in the cells of lesser height. Let me say at once that
-the large cells are destined for the females and the small ones for the
-males.
-
-DISTRIBUTION OF THE SEXES.
-
-Does the insect which stores up provisions proportionate to the needs
-of the egg which it is about to lay know beforehand the sex of that
-egg? Or is the truth even more paradoxical? What we have to do is to
-turn this suspicion into a certainty demonstrated by experiment. And
-first let us find out how the sexes are arranged.
-
-It is not possible to ascertain the chronological order of a laying,
-except by going to suitably-chosen species. Fortunately there are a few
-species in which we do not find this difficulty: these are the Bees who
-keep to one gallery and build their cells in storeys. Among the number
-are the different inhabitants of the bramble-stumps, notably the
-Three-pronged Osmiae, who form an excellent subject for observation,
-partly because they are of imposing size--bigger than any other
-bramble-dwellers in my neighbourhood--partly because they are so
-plentiful.
-
-Let us briefly recall the Osmia's habits. Amid the tangle of a hedge, a
-bramble-stalk is selected, still standing, but a mere withered stump.
-In this the insect digs a more or less deep tunnel, an easy piece of
-work owing to the abundance of soft pith. Provisions are heaped up
-right at the bottom of the tunnel and an egg is laid on the surface of
-the food: that is the first-born of the family. At a height of some
-twelve millimetres (About half an inch.--Translator's Note.), a
-partition is fixed. This gives a second storey, which in its turn
-receives provisions and an egg, the second in order of primogeniture.
-And so it goes on, storey by storey, until the cylinder is full. Then
-the thick plug of the same green material of which the partitions are
-formed closes the home and keeps out marauders.
-
-In this common cradle, the chronological order of births is perfectly
-clear. The first-born of the family is at the bottom of the series; the
-last-born is at the top, near the closed door. The others follow from
-bottom to top in the same order in which they followed in point of
-time. The laying is numbered automatically; each cocoon tells us its
-respective age by the place which it occupies.
-
-A number of eggs bordering on fifteen represents the entire family of
-an Osmia, and my observations enable me to state that the distribution
-of the sexes is not governed by any rule. All that I can say in general
-is that the complete series begins with females and nearly always ends
-with males. The incomplete series--those which the insect has laid in
-various places--can teach us nothing in this respect, for they are only
-fragments starting we know not whence; and it is impossible to tell
-whether they should be ascribed to the beginning, to the end, or to an
-intermediate period of the laying. To sum up: in the laying of the
-Three-pronged Osmia, no order governs the succession of the sexes;
-only, the series has a marked tendency to begin with females and to
-finish with males.
-
-The mother occupies herself at the start with the stronger sex, the
-more necessary, the better-gifted, the female sex, to which she devotes
-the first flush of her laying and the fullness of her vigour; later,
-when she is perhaps already at the end of her strength, she bestows
-what remains of her maternal solicitude upon the weaker sex, the
-less-gifted, almost negligible male sex. There are, however, other
-species where this law becomes absolute, constant and regular.
-
-In order to go more deeply into this curious question I installed some
-hives of a new kind on the sunniest walls of my enclosure. They
-consisted of stumps of the great reed of the south, open at one end,
-closed at the other by the natural knot and gathered into a sort of
-enormous pan-pipe, such as Polyphemus might have employed. The
-invitation was accepted: Osmiae came in fairly large numbers, to
-benefit by the queer installation.
-
-Three Osmiae especially (O. Tricornis, Latr., O. cornuta, Latr., O.
-Latreillii, Spin.) gave me splendid results, with reed-stumps arranged
-either against the wall of my garden, as I have just said, or near
-their customary abode, the huge nests of the Mason-bee of the Sheds.
-One of them, the Three-horned Osmia, did better still: as I have
-described, she built her nests in my study, as plentifully as I could
-wish.
-
-We will consult this last, who has furnished me with documents beyond
-my fondest hopes, and begin by asking her of how many eggs her average
-laying consists. Of the whole heap of colonized tubes in my study, or
-else out of doors, in the hurdle-reeds and the pan-pipe appliances, the
-best-filled contains fifteen cells, with a free space above the series,
-a space showing that the laying is ended, for, if the mother had any
-more eggs available, she would have lodged them in the room which she
-leaves unoccupied. This string of fifteen appears to be rare; it was
-the only one that I found. My attempts at indoor rearing, pursued
-during two years with glass tubes or reeds, taught me that the
-Three-horned Osmia is not much addicted to long series. As though to
-decrease the difficulties of the coming deliverance, she prefers short
-galleries, in which only a part of the laying is stacked. We must then
-follow the same mother in her migration from one dwelling to the next
-if we would obtain a complete census of her family. A spot of colour,
-dropped on the Bee's thorax with a paint-brush while she is absorbed in
-closing up the mouth of the tunnel, enables us to recognize the Osmia
-in her various homes.
-
-In this way, the swarm that resided in my study furnished me, in the
-first year, with an average of twelve cells. Next year, the summer
-appeared to be more favourable and the average became rather higher,
-reaching fifteen. The most numerous laying performed under my eyes, not
-in a tube, but in a succession of Snail-shells, reached the figure of
-twenty-six. On the other hand, layings of between eight and ten are not
-uncommon. Lastly, taking all my records together, the result is that
-the family of the Osmia fluctuates roundabout fifteen in number.
-
-I have already spoken of the great differences in size apparent in the
-cells of one and the same series. The partitions, at first widely
-spaced, draw gradually nearer to one another as they come closer to the
-aperture, which implies roomy cells at the back and narrow cells in
-front. The contents of these compartments are no less uneven between
-one portion and another of the string. Without any exception known to
-me, the large cells, those with which the series starts, have more
-abundant provisions than the straitened cells with which the series
-ends. The heap of honey and pollen in the first is twice or even thrice
-as large as that in the second. In the last cells, the most recent in
-date, the victuals are but a pinch of pollen, so niggardly in amount
-that we wonder what will become of the larva with that meagre ration.
-
-One would think that the Osmia, when nearing the end of the laying,
-attaches no importance to her last-born, to whom she doles out space
-and food so sparingly. The first-born receive the benefit of her early
-enthusiasm: theirs is the well-spread table, theirs the spacious
-apartments. The work has begun to pall by the time that the last eggs
-are laid; and the last-comers have to put up with a scurvy portion of
-food and a tiny corner.
-
-The difference shows itself in another way after the cocoons are spun.
-The large cells, those at the back, receive the bulky cocoons; the
-small ones, those in front, have cocoons only half or a third as big.
-Before opening them and ascertaining the sex of the Osmia inside, let
-us wait for the transformation into the perfect insect, which will take
-place towards the end of summer. If impatience get the better of us, we
-can open them at the end of July or in August. The insect is then in
-the nymphal stage; and it is easy, under this form, to distinguish the
-two sexes by the length of the antennae, which are larger in the males,
-and by the glassy protuberances on the forehead, the sign of the future
-armour of the females. Well, the small cocoons, those in the narrow
-front cells, with their scanty store of provisions, all belong to
-males; the big cocoons, those in the spacious and well-stocked cells at
-the back, all belong to females.
-
-The conclusion is definite: the laying of the Three-horned Osmia
-consists of two distinct groups, first a group of females and then a
-group of males.
-
-With my pan-pipe apparatus displayed on the walls of my enclosure and
-with old hurdle-reeds left lying flat out of doors, I obtained the
-Horned Osmia in fair quantities. I persuaded Latreille's Osmia to build
-her nest in reeds, which she did with a zeal which I was far from
-expecting. All that I had to do was to lay some reed-stumps
-horizontally within her reach, in the immediate neighbourhood of her
-usual haunts, namely, the nests of the Mason-bee of the Sheds. Lastly,
-I succeeded without difficulty in making her build her nests in the
-privacy of my study, with glass tubes for a house. The result surpassed
-my hopes.
-
-With both these Osmiae, the division of the gallery is the same as with
-the Three-horned Osmia. At the back are large cells with plentiful
-provisions and widely-spaced partitions; in front, small cells, with
-scanty provisions and partitions close together. Also, the larger cells
-supplied me with big cocoons and females; the smaller cells gave me
-little cocoons and males. The conclusion therefore is exactly the same
-in the case of all three Osmiae.
-
-These conclusions, as my notes show, apply likewise, in every respect,
-to the various species of Mason-bees; and one clear and simple rule
-stands out from this collection of facts. Apart from the strange
-exception of the Three-pronged Osmia, who mixes the sexes without any
-order, the Bees whom I studied and probably a crowd of others produce
-first a continuous series of females and then a continuous series of
-males, the latter with less provisions and smaller cells. This
-distribution of the sexes agrees with what we have long known of the
-Hive-bee, who begins her laying with a long sequence of workers, or
-sterile females, and ends it with a long sequence of males. The analogy
-continues down to the capacity of the cells and the quantities of
-provisions. The real females, the Queen-bees, have wax cells
-incomparably more spacious than the cells of the males and receive a
-much larger amount of food. Everything therefore demonstrates that we
-are here in the presence of a general rule.
-
-OPTIONAL DETERMINATION OF THE SEXES.
-
-But does this rule express the whole truth? Is there nothing beyond a
-laying in two series? Are the Osmiae, the Chalicodomae and the rest of
-them fatally bound by this distribution of the sexes into two distinct
-groups, the male group following upon the female group, without any
-mixing of the two? Is the mother absolutely powerless to make a change
-in this arrangement, should circumstances require it?
-
-The Three-pronged Osmia already shows us that the problem is far from
-being solved. In the same bramble-stump, the two sexes occur very
-irregularly, as though at random. Why this mixture in the series of
-cocoons of a Bee closely related to the Horned Osmia and the
-Three-horned Osmia, who stack theirs methodically by separate sexes in
-the hollow of a reed? What the Bee of the brambles does cannot her
-kinswomen of the reeds do too? Nothing, so far as I know, explains this
-fundamental difference in a physiological act of primary importance.
-The three Bees belong to the same genus; they resemble one another in
-general outline, internal structure and habits; and, with this close
-similarity, we suddenly find a strange dissimilarity.
-
-There is just one thing that might possibly arouse a suspicion of the
-cause of this irregularity in the Three-pronged Osmia's laying. If I
-open a bramble-stump in the winter to examine the Osmia's nest, I find
-it impossible, in the vast majority of cases, to distinguish positively
-between a female and a male cocoon: the difference in size is so small.
-The cells, moreover, have the same capacity: the diameter of the
-cylinder is the same throughout and the partitions are almost always
-the same distance apart. If I open it in July, the victualling-period,
-it is impossible for me to distinguish between the provisions destined
-for the males and those destined for the females. The measurement of
-the column of honey gives practically the same depth in all the cells.
-We find an equal quantity of space and food for both sexes.
-
-This result makes us foresee what a direct examination of the two sexes
-in the adult form tells us. The male does not differ materially from
-the female in respect of size. If he is a trifle smaller, it is
-scarcely noticeable, whereas, in the Horned Osmia and the Three-horned
-Osmia, the male is only half or a third the size of the female, as we
-have seen from the respective bulk of their cocoons. In the Mason-bee
-of the Walls there is also a difference in size, though less
-pronounced.
-
-The Three-pronged Osmia has not therefore to trouble about adjusting
-the dimensions of the dwelling and the quantity of the food to the sex
-of the egg which she is about to lay; the measure is the same from one
-end of the series to the other. It does not matter if the sexes
-alternate without order: one and all will find what they need, whatever
-their position in the row. The two other Osmiae, with their great
-disparity in size between the two sexes, have to be careful about the
-twofold consideration of board and lodging.
-
-The more I thought about this curious question, the more probable it
-appeared to me that the irregular series of the Three-pronged Osmia and
-the regular series of the other Osmiae and of the Bees in general were
-all traceable to a common law. It seemed to me that the arrangement in
-a succession first of females and then of males did not account for
-everything. There must be something more. And I was right: that
-arrangement in series is only a tiny fraction of the reality, which is
-remarkable in a very different way. This is what I am going to prove by
-experiment.
-
-The succession first of females and then of males is not, in fact,
-invariable. Thus, the Chalicodoma, whose nests serve for two or three
-generations, ALWAYS lays male eggs in the old male cells, which can be
-recognized by their lesser capacity, and female eggs in the old female
-cells of more spacious dimensions.
-
-This presence of both sexes at a time, even when there are but two
-cells free, one spacious and the other small, proves in the plainest
-fashion that the regular distribution observed in the complete nests of
-recent production is here replaced by an irregular distribution,
-harmonizing with the number and holding-capacity of the chambers to be
-stocked. The Mason-bee has before her, let me suppose, only five vacant
-cells: two larger and three smaller. The total space at her disposal
-would do for about a third of the laying. Well, in the two large cells,
-she puts females; in the three small cells she puts males.
-
-As we find the same sort of thing in all the old nests, we must needs
-admit that the mother knows the sex of the eggs which she is going to
-lay, because that egg is placed in a cell of the proper capacity. We
-can go further, and admit that the mother alters the order of
-succession of the sexes at her pleasure, because her layings, between
-one old nest and another, are broken up into small groups of males and
-females according to the exigencies of space in the actual nest which
-she happens to be occupying.
-
-Here then is the Chalicodoma, when mistress of an old nest of which she
-has not the power to alter the arrangement, breaking up her laying into
-sections comprising both sexes just as required by the conditions
-imposed upon her. She therefore decides the sex of the egg at will,
-for, without this prerogative, she could not, in the chambers of the
-nest which she owes to chance, deposit unerringly the sex for which
-those chambers were originally built; and this happens however small
-the number of chambers to be filled.
-
-When the mother herself founds the dwelling, when she lays the first
-rows of bricks, the females come first and the males at the finish.
-But, when she is in the presence of an old nest, of which she is quite
-unable to alter the general arrangement, how is she to make use of a
-few vacant rooms, the large and small alike, if the sex of the egg be
-already irrevocably fixed? She can only do so by abandoning the
-arrangement in two consecutive rows and accommodating her laying to the
-varied exigencies of the home. Either she finds it impossible to make
-an economical use of the old nest, a theory refuted by the evidence, or
-else she determines at will the sex of the egg which she is about to
-lay.
-
-The Osmiae themselves will furnish the most conclusive evidence on the
-latter point. We have seen that these Bees are not generally miners,
-who themselves dig out the foundation of their cells. They make use of
-the old structures of others, or else of natural retreats, such as
-hollow stems, the spirals of empty shells and various hiding-places in
-walls, clay or wood. Their work is confined to repairs to the house,
-such as partitions and covers. There are plenty of these retreats; and
-the insects would always find first-class ones if it thought of going
-any distance to look for them. But the Osmia is a stay-at-home: she
-returns to her birthplace and clings to it with a patience extremely
-difficult to exhaust. It is here, in this little familiar corner, that
-she prefers to settle her progeny. But then the apartments are few in
-number and of all shapes and sizes. There are long and short ones,
-spacious ones and narrow. Short of expatriating herself, a Spartan
-course, she has to use them all, from first to last, for she has no
-choice. Guided by these considerations, I embarked on the experiments
-which I will now describe.
-
-I have said how my study became a populous hive, in which the
-Three-horned Osmia built her nests in the various appliances which I
-had prepared for her. Among these appliances, tubes, either of glass or
-reed, predominated. There were tubes of all lengths and widths. In the
-long tubes, entire or almost entire layings, with a series of females
-followed by a series of males, were deposited. As I have already
-referred to this result, I will not discuss it again. The short tubes
-were sufficiently varied in length to lodge one or other portion of the
-total laying. Basing my calculations on the respective lengths of the
-cocoons of the two sexes, on the thickness of the partitions and the
-final lid, I shortened some of these to the exact dimensions required
-for two cocoons only, of different sexes.
-
-Well, these short tubes, whether of glass or reed, were seized upon as
-eagerly as the long tubes. Moreover, they yielded this splendid result:
-their contents, only a part of the total laying, always began with
-female and ended with male cocoons. This order was invariable; what
-varied was the number of cells in the long tubes and the proportion
-between the two sorts of cocoons, sometimes males predominating and
-sometimes females.
-
-When confronted with tubes too small to receive all her family, the
-Osmia is in the same plight as the Mason-bee in the presence of an old
-nest. She thereupon acts exactly as the Chalicodoma does. She breaks up
-her laying, divides it into series as short as the room at her disposal
-demands; and each series begins with females and ends with males. This
-breaking up, on the one hand, into sections in all of which both sexes
-are represented and the division, on the other hand, of the entire
-laying into just two groups, one female, the other male, when the
-length of the tube permits, surely provide us with ample evidence of
-the insect's power to regulate the sex of the egg according to the
-exigencies of space.
-
-And besides the exigencies of space one might perhaps venture to add
-those connected with the earlier development of the males. These burst
-their cocoons a couple of weeks or more before the females; they are
-the first who hasten to the sweets of the almond-tree. In order to
-release themselves and emerge into the glad sunlight without disturbing
-the string of cocoons wherein their sisters are still sleeping, they
-must occupy the upper end of the row; and this, no doubt, is the reason
-that makes the Osmia end each of her broken layings with males. Being
-next to the door, these impatient ones will leave the home without
-upsetting the shells that are slower in hatching.
-
-I had offered at the same time to the Osmiae in my study some old nests
-of the Mason-bee of the Shrubs, which are clay spheroids with
-cylindrical cavities in them. These cavities are formed, as in the old
-nests of the Mason-bee of the Pebbles, of the cell properly so-called
-and of the exit-way which the perfect insect cut through the outer
-coating at the time of its deliverance. The diameter is about 7
-millimetres (.273 inch.--Translator's Note.); their depth at the centre
-of the heap is 23 millimetres (.897 inch.--Translator's Note.) and at
-the edge averages 14 millimetres. (.546 inch.--Translator's Note.)
-
-The deep central cells receive only the females of the Osmia; sometimes
-even the two sexes together, with a partition in the middle, the female
-occupying the lower and the male the upper storey. Lastly, the deeper
-cavities on the circumference are allotted to females and the shallower
-to males.
-
-We know that the Three-horned Osmia prefers to haunt the habitations of
-the Bees who nidify in populous colonies, such as the Mason-bee of the
-Sheds and the Hairy-footed Anthophora, in whose nests I have noted
-similar facts.
-
-Thus the sex of the egg is optional. The choice rests with the mother,
-who is guided by considerations of space and, according to the
-accommodation at her disposal, which is frequently fortuitous and
-incapable of modification, places a female in this cell and a male in
-that, so that both may have a dwelling of a size suited to their
-unequal development. This is the unimpeachable evidence of the numerous
-and varied facts which I have set forth. People unfamiliar with insect
-anatomy--the public for whom I write--would probably give the following
-explanation of this marvellous prerogative of the Bee: the mother has
-at her disposal a certain number of eggs, some of which are irrevocably
-female and the others irrevocably male: she is able to pick out of
-either group the one which she wants at the actual moment; and her
-choice is decided by the holding capacity of the cell that has to be
-stocked. Everything would then be limited to a judicious selection from
-the heap of eggs.
-
-Should this idea occur to him, the reader must hasten to reject it.
-Nothing could be more false, as the most casual reference to anatomy
-will show. The female reproductive apparatus of the Hymenoptera
-consists generally of six ovarian tubes, something like glove-fingers,
-divided into bunches of three and ending in a common canal, the
-oviduct, which carries the eggs outside. Each of these glove-fingers is
-fairly wide at the base, but tapers sharply towards the tip, which is
-closed. It contains, arranged in a row, one after the other, like beads
-on a string, a certain number of eggs, five or six for instance, of
-which the lower ones are more or less developed, the middle ones
-halfway towards maturity, and the upper ones very rudimentary. Every
-stage of evolution is here represented, distributed regularly from
-bottom to top, from the verge of maturity to the vague outlines of the
-embryo. The sheath clasps its string of ovules so closely that any
-inversion of the order is impossible. Besides, an inversion would
-result in a gross absurdity: the replacing of a riper egg by another in
-an earlier stage of development.
-
-Therefore, in each ovarian tube, in each glove-finger, the emergence of
-the eggs occurs according to the order governing their arrangement in
-the common sheath; and any other sequence is absolutely impossible.
-Moreover, at the nesting-period, the six ovarian sheaths, one by one
-and each in its turn, have at their base an egg which in a very short
-time swells enormously. Some hours or even a day before the laying,
-that egg by itself represents or even exceeds in bulk the whole of the
-ovigerous apparatus. This is the egg which is on the point of being
-laid. It is about to descend into the oviduct, in its proper order, at
-its proper time; and the mother has no power to make another take its
-place. It is this egg, necessarily this egg and no other, that will
-presently be laid upon the provisions, whether these be a mess of honey
-or a live prey; it alone is ripe, it alone lies at the entrance to the
-oviduct; none of the others, since they are farther back in the row and
-not at the right stage of development, can be substituted at this
-crisis. Its birth is inevitable.
-
-What will it yield, a male or a female? No lodging has been prepared,
-no food collected for it; and yet both food and lodging have to be in
-keeping with the sex that will proceed from it. And here is a much more
-puzzling condition: the sex of that egg, whose advent is predestined,
-has to correspond with the space which the mother happens to have found
-for a cell. There is therefore no room for hesitation, strange though
-the statement may appear: the egg, as it descends from its ovarian
-tube, has no determined sex. It is perhaps during the few hours of its
-rapid development at the base of its ovarian sheath, it is perhaps on
-its passage through the oviduct that it receives, at the mother's
-pleasure, the final impress that will produce, to match the cradle
-which it has to fill, either a female or a male.
-
-PERMUTATIONS OF SEX.
-
-Thereupon the following question presents itself. Let us admit that,
-when the normal conditions remain, a laying would have yielded m
-females and n males. Then, if my conclusions are correct, it must be in
-the mother's power, when the conditions are different, to take from the
-m group and increase the n group to the same extent; it must be
-possible for her laying to be represented as m - 1, m - 2, m - 3, etc.
-females and by n + 1, n + 2, n + 3, etc. males, the sum of m + n
-remaining constant, but one of the sexes being partly permuted into the
-other. The ultimate conclusion even cannot be disregarded: we must
-admit a set of eggs represented by m - m, or zero, females and of n + m
-males, one of the sexes being completely replaced by the other.
-Conversely, it must be possible for the feminine series to be augmented
-from the masculine series to the extent of absorbing it entirely. It
-was to solve this question and some others connected with it that I
-undertook, for the second time, to rear the Three-horned Osmia in my
-study.
-
-The problem on this occasion is a more delicate one; but I am also
-better-equipped. My apparatus consists of two small closed
-packing-cases, with the front side of each pierced with forty holes, in
-which I can insert my glass tubes and keep them in a horizontal
-position. I thus obtain for the Bees the darkness and mystery which
-suit their work and for myself the power of withdrawing from my hive,
-at any time, any tube that I wish, with the Osmia inside, so as to
-carry it to the light and follow, if need be with the aid of the lens,
-the operations of the busy worker. My investigations, however frequent
-and minute, in no way hinder the peaceable Bee, who remains absorbed in
-her maternal duties.
-
-I mark a plentiful number of my guests with a variety of dots on the
-thorax, which enables me to follow any one Osmia from the beginning to
-the end of her laying. The tubes and their respective holes are
-numbered; a list, always lying open on my desk, enables me to note from
-day to day, sometimes from hour to hour, what happens in each tube and
-particularly the actions of the Osmiae whose backs bear distinguishing
-marks. As soon as one tube is filled, I replace it by another.
-Moreover, I have scattered in front of either hive a few handfuls of
-empty Snail-shells, specially chosen for the object which I have in
-view. Reasons which I will explain later led me to prefer the shells of
-Helix caespitum. Each of the shells, as and when stocked, received the
-date of the laying and the alphabetical sign corresponding with the
-Osmia to whom it belonged. In this way, I spent five or six weeks in
-continual observation. To succeed in an enquiry, the first and foremost
-condition is patience. This condition I fulfilled; and it was rewarded
-with the success which I was justified in expecting.
-
-The tubes employed are of two kinds. The first, which are cylindrical
-and of the same width throughout, will be of use for confirming the
-facts observed in the first year of my experiments in indoor rearing.
-The others, the majority, consist of two cylinders which are of very
-different diameters, set end to end. The front cylinder, the one which
-projects a little way outside the hive and forms the entrance-hole,
-varies in width between 8 and 12 millimetres. (Between .312 and .468
-inch.--Translator's Note.) The second, the back one, contained entirely
-within my packing-case, is closed at its far end and is 5 to 6
-millimetres in diameter. (.195 to .234 inch.--Translator's Note.) Each
-of the two parts of the double-galleried tunnel, one narrow and one
-wide, measures at most a decimetre in length. (3.9
-inches.--Translator's Note.) I thought it advisable to have these short
-tubes, as the Osmia is thus compelled to select different lodgings,
-each of them being insufficient in itself to accommodate the total
-laying. In this way I shall obtain a greater variety in the
-distribution of the sexes. Lastly, at the mouth of each tube, which
-projects slightly outside the case, there is a little paper tongue,
-forming a sort of perch on which the Osmia alights on her arrival and
-giving easy access to the house. With these facilities, the swarm
-colonized fifty-two double-galleried tubes, thirty-seven cylindrical
-tubes, seventy-eight Snail-shells and a few old nests of the Mason-bee
-of the Shrubs. From this rich mine of material I will take what I want
-to prove my case.
-
-Every series, even when incomplete, begins with females and ends with
-males. To this rule I have not yet found an exception, at least in
-galleries of normal diameter. In each new abode the mother busies
-herself first of all with the more important sex. Bearing this point in
-mind, would it be possible for me, by manoeuvring, to obtain an
-inversion of this order and make the laying begin with males? I think
-so, from the results already ascertained and the irresistible
-conclusions to be drawn from them. The double-galleried tubes are
-installed in order to put my conjectures to the proof.
-
-The back gallery, 5 or 6 millimetres wide (.195 to .234
-inch.--Translator's Note.), is too narrow to serve as a lodging for
-normally developed females. If, therefore, the Osmia, who is very
-economical of her space, wishes to occupy them, she will be obliged to
-establish males there. And her laying must necessarily begin here,
-because this corner is the rear-most part of the tube. The foremost
-gallery is wide, with an entrance-door on the front of the hive. Here,
-finding the conditions to which she is accustomed, the mother will go
-on with her laying in the order which she prefers.
-
-Let us now see what has happened. Of the fifty-two double-galleried
-tubes, about a third did not have their narrow passage colonized. The
-Osmia closed its aperture communicating with the large passage; and the
-latter alone received the eggs. This waste of space was inevitable. The
-female Osmiae, though nearly always larger than the males, present
-marked differences among one another: some are bigger, some are
-smaller. I had to adjust the width of the narrow galleries to Bees of
-average dimensions. It may happen therefore that a gallery is too small
-to admit the large-sized mothers to whom chance allots it. When the
-Osmia is unable to enter the tube, obviously she will not colonize it.
-She then closes the entrance to this space which she cannot use and
-does her laying beyond it, in the wide tube. Had I tried to avoid these
-useless apparatus by choosing tubes of larger calibre, I should have
-encountered another drawback: the medium-sized mothers, finding
-themselves almost comfortable, would have decided to lodge females
-there. I had to be prepared for it: as each mother selected her house
-at will and as I was unable to interfere in her choice, a narrow tube
-would be colonized or not, according as the Osmia who owned it was or
-was not able to make her way inside.
-
-There remain some forty pairs of tubes with both galleries colonized.
-In these there are two things to take into consideration. The narrow
-rear tubes of 5 or 5 1/2 millimetres (.195 to .214 inch.--Translator's
-Note.)--and these are the most numerous--contain males and males only,
-but in short series, between one and five. The mother is here so much
-hampered in her work that they are rarely occupied from end to end; the
-Osmia seems in a hurry to leave them and to go and colonize the front
-tube, whose ample space will leave her the liberty of movement
-necessary for her operations. The other rear tubes, the minority, whose
-diameter is about 6 millimetres (.234 inch.--Translator's Note.),
-contain sometimes only females and sometimes females at the back and
-males towards the opening. One can see that a tube a trifle wider and a
-mother slightly smaller would account for this difference in the
-results. Nevertheless, as the necessary space for a female is barely
-provided in this case, we see that the mother avoids as far as she can
-a two-sex arrangement beginning with males and that she adopts it only
-in the last extremity. Finally, whatever the contents of the small tube
-may be, those of the large one, following upon it, never vary and
-consist of females at the back and males in front.
-
-Though incomplete, because of circumstances very difficult to control,
-the result of the experiment is none the less very remarkable.
-Twenty-five apparatus contain only males in their narrow gallery, in
-numbers varying from a minimum of one to a maximum of five. After these
-comes the colony of the large gallery, beginning with females and
-ending with males. And the layings in these apparatus do not always
-belong to late summer or even to the intermediate period: a few small
-tubes contain the earliest eggs of the entire swarm. A couple of
-Osmiae, more forward than the others, set to work on the 23rd of April.
-Both of them started their laying by placing males in the narrow tubes.
-The meagre supply of provisions was enough in itself to show the sex,
-which proved later to be in accordance with my anticipations. We see
-then that, by my artifices, the whole swarm starts with the converse of
-the normal order. This inversion is continued, at no matter what
-period, from the beginning to the end of the operations. The series
-which, according to rule, would begin with females now begins with
-males. Once the larger gallery is reached, the laying is pursued in the
-usual order.
-
-We have advanced one step and that no small one: we have seen that the
-Osmia, when circumstances require it, is capable of reversing the
-sequence of the sexes. Would it be possible, provided that the tube
-were long enough, to obtain a complete inversion, in which the entire
-series of the males should occupy the narrow gallery at the back and
-the entire series of the females the roomy gallery in front? I think
-not; and I will tell you why.
-
-Long and narrow cylinders are by no means to the Osmia's taste, not
-because of their narrowness but because of their length. Observe that
-for each load of honey brought the worker is obliged to move backwards
-twice. She enters, head first, to begin by disgorging the honey-syrup
-from her crop. Unable to turn in a passage which she blocks entirely,
-she goes out backwards, crawling rather than walking, a laborious
-performance on the polished surface of the glass and a performance
-which, with any other surface, would still be very awkward, as the
-wings are bound to rub against the wall with their free end and are
-liable to get rumpled or bent. She goes out backwards, reaches the
-outside, turns round and goes in again, but this time the opposite way,
-so as to brush off the load of pollen from her abdomen on to the heap.
-If the gallery is at all long, this crawling backwards becomes
-troublesome after a time; and the Osmia soon abandons a passage that is
-too small to allow of free movement. I have said that the narrow tubes
-of my apparatus are, for the most part, only very incompletely
-colonized. The Bee, after lodging a small number of males in them,
-hastens to leave them. In the wide front gallery she can stay where she
-is and still be able to turn round easily for her different
-manipulations; she will avoid those two long journeys backwards, which
-are so exhausting and so bad for her wings.
-
-Another reason no doubt prompts her not to make too great a use of the
-narrow passage, in which she would establish males, followed by females
-in the part where the gallery widens. The males have to leave their
-cells a couple of weeks or more before the females. If they occupy the
-back of the house they will die prisoners or else they will overturn
-everything on their way out. This risk is avoided by the order which
-the Osmia adopts.
-
-In my tubes, with their unusual arrangement, the mother might well find
-the dilemma perplexing: there is the narrowness of the space at her
-disposal and there is the emergence later on. In the narrow tubes, the
-width is insufficient for the females; on the other hand, if she lodges
-males there, they are liable to perish, since they will be prevented
-from issuing at the proper moment. This would perhaps explain the
-mother's hesitation and her obstinacy in settling females in some of my
-apparatus which looked as if they could suit none but males.
-
-A suspicion occurs to me, a suspicion aroused by my attentive
-examination of the narrow tubes. All, whatever the number of their
-inmates, are carefully plugged at the opening, just as separate tubes
-would be. It might therefore be the case that the narrow gallery at the
-back was looked upon by the Osmia not as the prolongation of the large
-front gallery, but as an independent tube. The facility with which the
-worker turns as soon as she reaches the wide tube, her liberty of
-action, which is now as great as in a doorway communicating with the
-outer air, might well be misleading and cause the Osmia to treat the
-narrow passage at the back as though the wide passage in front did not
-exist. This would account for the placing of the female in the large
-tube above the males in the small tube, an arrangement contrary to her
-custom.
-
-I will not undertake to decide whether the mother really appreciates
-the danger of my snares, or whether she makes a mistake in considering
-only the space at her disposal and beginning with males, who are liable
-to remain imprisoned. At any rate, I perceive a tendency to deviate as
-little as possible from the order which safeguards the emergence of
-both sexes. This tendency is demonstrated by her repugnance to
-colonizing my narrow tubes with long series of males. However, so far
-as we are concerned, it does not matter much what passes at such times
-in the Osmia's little brain. Enough for us to know that she dislikes
-narrow and long tubes, not because they are narrow, but because they
-are at the same time long.
-
-And, in fact, she does very well with a short tube of the same
-diameter. Such are the cells in the old nests of the Mason-bee of the
-Shrubs and the empty shells of the Garden Snail. With the short tube
-the two disadvantages of the long tube are avoided. She has very little
-of that crawling backwards to do when she has a Snail-shell for the
-home of her eggs and scarcely any when the home is the cell of the
-Mason-bee. Moreover, as the stack of cocoons numbers two or three at
-most, the deliverance will be exempt from the difficulties attached to
-a long series. To persuade the Osmia to nidify in a single tube long
-enough to receive the whole of her laying and at the same time narrow
-enough to leave her only just the possibility of admittance appears to
-me a project without the slightest chance of success: the Bee would
-stubbornly refuse such a dwelling or would content herself with
-entrusting only a very small portion of her eggs to it. On the other
-hand, with narrow but short cavities, success, without being easy,
-seems to me at least quite possible. Guided by these considerations, I
-embarked upon the most arduous part of my problem: to obtain the
-complete or almost complete permutation of one sex with the other; to
-produce a laying consisting only of males by offering the mother a
-series of lodgings suited only to males.
-
-Let us in the first place consult the old nests of the Mason-bee of the
-Shrubs. I have said that these mortar spheroids, pierced all over with
-little cylindrical cavities, are a adopted pretty eagerly by the
-Three-horned Osmia, who colonizes them before my eyes with females in
-the deep cells and males in the shallow cells. That is how things go
-when the old nest remains in its natural state. With a grater, however,
-I scrape the outside of another nest so as to reduce the depth of the
-cavities to some ten millimetres. (About two-fifths of an
-inch.--Translator's Note.) This leaves in each cell just room for one
-cocoon, surmounted by the closing stopper. Of the fourteen cavities in
-the nests, I leave two intact, measuring fifteen millimetres in depth.
-(.585 inch.--Translator's Note.) Nothing could be more striking than
-the result of this experiment, made in the first year of my home
-rearing. The twelve cavities whose depth had been reduced all received
-males; the two cavities left untouched received females.
-
-A year passes and I repeat the experiment with a nest of fifteen cells;
-but this time all the cells are reduced to the minimum depth with the
-grater. Well, the fifteen cells, from first to last, are occupied by
-males. It must be quite understood that, in each case, all the
-offspring belonged to one mother, marked with her distinguishing dot
-and kept in sight as long as her laying lasted. He would indeed be
-difficult to please who refused to bow before the results of these two
-experiments. If, however, he is not yet convinced, here is something to
-remove his last doubts.
-
-The Three-horned Osmia often settles her family in old shells,
-especially those of the Common Snail (Helix aspersa), who is so common
-under the stone-heaps and in the crevices of the little unmortared
-walls that support our terraces. In this species the spiral is wide
-open, so that the Osmia, penetrating as far down as the helical passage
-permits, finds, immediately above the point which is too narrow to
-pass, the space necessary for the cell of a female. This cell is
-succeeded by others, wider still, always for females, arranged in a
-line in the same way as in a straight tube. In the last whorl of the
-spiral, the diameter would be too great for a single row. Then
-longitudinal partitions are added to the transverse partitions, the
-whole resulting in cells of unequal dimensions in which males
-predominate, mixed with a few females in the lower storeys. The
-sequence of the sexes is therefore what it would be in a straight tube
-and especially in a tube with a wide bore, where the partitioning is
-complicated by subdivisions on the same level. A single Snail-shell
-contains room for six or eight cells. A large, rough earthen stopper
-finishes the nest at the entrance to the shell.
-
-As a dwelling of this sort could show us nothing new, I chose for my
-swarm the Garden Snail (Helix caespitum), whose shell, shaped like a
-small swollen Ammonite, widens by slow degrees, the diameter of the
-usable portion, right up to the mouth, being hardly greater than that
-required by a male Osmia-cocoon. Moreover, the widest part, in which a
-female might find room, has to receive a thick stopping-plug, below
-which there will often be a free space. Under all these conditions, the
-house will hardly suit any but males arranged one after the other.
-
-The collection of shells placed at the foot of each hive includes
-specimens of different sizes. The smallest are 18 millimetres (.7
-inch.--Translator's Note.) in diameter and the largest 24 millimetres.
-(.936 inch.--Translator's Note.) There is room for two cocoons, or
-three at most, according to their dimensions.
-
-Now these shells were used by my visitors without any hesitation,
-perhaps even with more eagerness than the glass tubes, whose slippery
-sides might easily be a little annoying to the Bee. Some of them were
-occupied on the first few days of the laying; and the Osmia who had
-started with a home of this sort would pass next to a second
-Snail-shell, in the immediate neighbourhood of the first, to a third, a
-fourth and others still, always close together, until her ovaries were
-emptied. The whole family of one mother would thus be lodged in
-Snail-shells which were duly marked with the date of the laying and a
-description of the worker. The faithful adherents of the Snail-shell
-were in the minority. The greater number left the tubes to come to the
-shells and then went back from the shells to the tubes. All, after
-filling the spiral staircase with two or three cells, closed the house
-with a thick earthen stopper on a level with the opening. It was a long
-and troublesome task, in which the Osmia displayed all her patience as
-a mother and all her talents as a plasterer.
-
-When the pupae are sufficiently matured, I proceed to examine these
-elegant abodes. The contents fill me with joy: they fulfil my
-anticipations to the letter. The great, the very great majority of the
-cocoons turn out to be males; here and there, in the bigger cells, a
-few rare females appear. The smallness of the space has almost done
-away with the stronger sex. This result is demonstrated by the
-sixty-eight Snail-shells colonized. But, of this total number, I must
-use only those series which received an entire laying and were occupied
-by the same Osmia from the beginning to the end of the egg-season. Here
-are a few examples, taken from among the most conclusive.
-
-From the 6th of May, when she started operations, to the 25th of May,
-the date at which her laying ceased, one Osmia occupied seven
-Snail-shells in succession. Her family consists of fourteen cocoons, a
-number very near the average; and, of these fourteen cocoons, twelve
-belong to males and only two to females.
-
-Another, between the 9th and 27th of May, stocked six Snail-shells with
-a family of thirteen, including ten males and three females.
-
-A third, between the 2nd and 29th of May colonized eleven Snail-shells,
-a prodigious task. This industrious one was also exceedingly prolific.
-She supplied me with a family of twenty-six, the largest which I have
-ever obtained from one Osmia. Well, this abnormal progeny consisted of
-twenty-five males and one female.
-
-There is no need to go on, after this magnificent example, especially
-as the other series would all, without exception, give us the same
-result. Two facts are immediately obvious: the Osmia is able to reverse
-the order of her laying and to start with a more or less long series of
-males before producing any females. There is something better still;
-and this is the proposition which I was particularly anxious to prove:
-the female sex can be permuted with the male sex and can be permuted to
-the point of disappearing altogether. We see this especially in the
-third case, where the presence of a solitary female in a family of
-twenty-six is due to the somewhat larger diameter of the corresponding
-Snail-shell.
-
-There would still remain the inverse permutation: to obtain only
-females and no males, or very few. The first permutation makes the
-second seem very probable, although I cannot as yet conceive a means of
-realizing it. The only condition which I can regulate is the dimensions
-of the home. When the rooms are small, the males abound and the females
-tend to disappear. With generous quarters, the converse would not take
-place. I should obtain females and afterwards an equal number of males,
-confined in small cells which, in case of need, would be bounded by
-numerous partitions. The factor of space does not enter into the
-question here. What artifice can we then employ to provoke this second
-permutation? So far, I can think of nothing that is worth attempting.
-
-It is time to conclude. Leading a retired life, in the solitude of a
-village, having quite enough to do with patiently and obscurely
-ploughing my humble furrow, I know little about modern scientific
-views. In my young days I had a passionate longing for books and found
-it difficult to procure them; to-day, when I could almost have them if
-I wanted, I am ceasing to wish for them. It is what usually happens as
-life goes on. I do not therefore know what may have been done in the
-direction whither this study of the sexes has led me. If I am stating
-propositions that are really new or at least more comprehensive than
-the propositions already known, my words will perhaps sound heretical.
-No matter: as a simple translator of facts, I do not hesitate to make
-my statement, being fully persuaded that time will turn my heresy into
-orthodoxy. I will therefore recapitulate my conclusions.
-
-Bees lay their eggs in series of first females and then males, when the
-two sexes are of different sizes and demand an unequal quantity of
-nourishment. When the two sexes are alike in size, as in the case of
-Latreille's Osmia, the same sequence may occur, but less regularly.
-
-This dual arrangement disappears when the place chosen for the nest is
-not large enough to contain the entire laying. We then see broken
-layings, beginning with females and ending with males.
-
-The egg, as it issues from the ovary, has not yet a fixed sex. The
-final impress that produces the sex is given at the moment of laying,
-or a little before.
-
-So as to be able to give each larva the amount of space and food that
-suits it according as it is male or female, the mother can choose the
-sex of the egg which she is about to lay. To meet the conditions of the
-building, which is often the work of another or else a natural retreat
-that admits of little or no alteration, she lays either a male egg or a
-female egg AS SHE PLEASES. The distribution of the sexes depends upon
-herself. Should circumstances require it, the order of the laying can
-be reversed and begin with males; lastly, the entire laying can contain
-only one sex.
-
-The same privilege is possessed by the predatory Hymenoptera, the
-Wasps, at least by those in whom the two sexes are of a different size
-and consequently require an amount of nourishment that is larger in the
-one case than in the other. The mother must know the sex of the egg
-which she is going to lay; she must be able to choose the sex of that
-egg so that each larva may obtain its proper portion of food.
-
-Generally speaking, when the sexes are of different sizes, every insect
-that collects food and prepares or selects a dwelling for its offspring
-must be able to choose the sex of the egg in order to satisfy without
-mistake the conditions imposed upon it.
-
-The question remains how this optional assessment of the sexes is
-effected. I know absolutely nothing about it. If I should ever learn
-anything about this delicate point, I shall owe it to some happy chance
-for which I must wait, or rather watch, patiently.
-
-Then what explanation shall I give of the wonderful facts which I have
-set forth? Why, none, absolutely none. I do not explain facts, I relate
-them. Growing daily more sceptical of the interpretations suggested to
-me and more hesitating as to those which I myself may have to suggest,
-the more I observe and experiment, the more clearly I see rising out of
-the black mists of possibility an enormous note of interrogation.
-
-Dear insects, my study of you has sustained me and continues to sustain
-me in my heaviest trials; I must take leave of you for to-day. The
-ranks are thinning around me and the long hopes have fled. Shall I be
-able to speak of you again? (This forms the closing paragraph of Volume
-3 of the "Souvenirs entomologiques," of which the author lived to
-publish seven more volumes, containing over 2,500 pages and nearly
-850,000 words.--Translator's Note.)
-
-
-
-CHAPTER 13. THE GLOW-WORM.
-
-Few insects in our climes vie in popular fame with the Glow-worm, that
-curious little animal which, to celebrate the little joys of life,
-kindles a beacon at its tail-end. Who does not know it, at least by
-name? Who has not seen it roam amid the grass, like a spark fallen from
-the moon at its full? The Greeks of old called it lampouris, meaning,
-the bright-tailed. Science employs the same term: it calls it the
-lantern-bearer, Lampyris noctiluca, Lin. In this case the common name
-is inferior to the scientific phrase, which, when translated, becomes
-both expressive and accurate.
-
-In fact, we might easily cavil at the word "worm." The Lampyris is not
-a worm at all, not even in general appearance. He has six short legs,
-which he well knows how to use; he is a gad-about, a trot-about. In the
-adult state the male is correctly garbed in wing-cases, like the true
-Beetle that he is. The female is an ill-favoured thing who knows naught
-of the delights of flying: all her life long she retains the larval
-shape, which, for the rest, is similar to that of the male, who himself
-is imperfect so long as he has not achieved the maturity that comes
-with pairing-time. Even in this initial stage the word "worm" is out of
-place. We French have the expression "Naked as a worm" to point to the
-lack of any defensive covering. Now the Lampyris is clothed, that is to
-say, he wears an epidermis of some consistency; moreover, he is rather
-richly : his body is dark brown all over, set off with pale
-pink on the thorax, especially on the lower surface. Finally, each
-segment is decked at the hinder edge with two spots of a fairly bright
-red. A costume like this was never worn by a worm.
-
-Let us leave this ill-chosen denomination and ask ourselves what the
-Lampyris feeds upon. That master of the art of gastronomy,
-Brillat-Savarin, said: "Show me what you eat and I will tell you what
-you are."
-
-A similar question should be addressed, by way of a preliminary, to
-every insect whose habits we propose to study, for, from the least to
-the greatest in the zoological progression, the stomach sways the
-world; the data supplied by food are the chief of all the documents of
-life. Well, in spite of his innocent appearance, the Lampyris is an
-eater of flesh, a hunter of game; and he follows his calling with rare
-villainy. His regular prey is the Snail.
-
-This detail has long been known to entomologists. What is not so well
-known, what is not known at all yet, to judge by what I have read, is
-the curious method of attack, of which I have seen no other instance
-anywhere.
-
-Before he begins to feast, the Glow-worm administers an anaesthetic: he
-chloroforms his victim, rivalling in the process the wonders of our
-modern surgery, which renders the patient insensible before operating
-on him. The usual game is a small Snail hardly the size of a cherry,
-such as, for instance, Helix variabilis, Drap., who, in the hot
-weather, collects in clusters on the stiff stubble and other long, dry
-stalks by the road-side and there remains motionless, in profound
-meditation, throughout the scorching summer days. It is in some such
-resting-place as this that I have often been privileged to light upon
-the Lampyris banqueting on the prey which he had just paralysed on its
-shaky support by his surgical artifices.
-
-But he is familiar with other preserves. He frequents the edges of the
-irrigating ditches, with their cool soil, their varied vegetation, a
-favourite haunt of the Mollusc. Here, he treats the game on the ground;
-and, under these conditions, it is easy for me to rear him at home and
-to follow the operator's performance down to the smallest detail.
-
-I will try to make the reader a witness of the strange sight. I place a
-little grass in a wide glass jar. In this I instal a few Glow-worms and
-a provision of snails of a suitable size, neither too large nor too
-small, chiefly Helix variabilis. We must be patient and wait. Above
-all, we must keep an assiduous watch, for the desired events come
-unexpectedly and do not last long.
-
-Here we are at last. The Glow-worm for a moment investigates the prey,
-which, according to its habit, is wholly withdrawn in the shell, except
-the edge of the mantle, which projects slightly. Then the hunter's
-weapon is drawn, a very simple weapon, but one that cannot be plainly
-perceived without the aid of a lens. It consists of two mandibles bent
-back powerfully into a hook, very sharp and as thin as a hair. The
-microscope reveals the presence of a slender groove running throughout
-the length. And that is all.
-
-The insect repeatedly taps the Snail's mantle with its instrument. It
-all happens with such gentleness as to suggest kisses rather than
-bites. As children, teasing one another, we used to talk of "tweaksies"
-to express a slight squeeze of the finger-tips, something more like a
-tickling than a serious pinch. Let us use that word. In conversing with
-animals, language loses nothing by remaining juvenile. It is the right
-way for the simple to understand one another.
-
-The Lampyris doles out his tweaks. He distributes them methodically,
-without hurrying, and takes a brief rest after each of them, as though
-he wished to ascertain the effect produced. Their number is not great:
-half a dozen, at most, to subdue the prey and deprive it of all power
-of movement. That other pinches are administered later, at the time of
-eating, seems very likely, but I cannot say anything for certain,
-because the sequel escapes me. The first few, however--there are never
-many--are enough to impart inertia and loss of all feeling to the
-Mollusc, thanks to the prompt, I might almost say lightning, methods of
-the Lampyris, who, beyond a doubt, instils some poison or other by
-means of his grooved hooks.
-
-Here is the proof of the sudden efficacy of those twitches, so mild in
-appearance: I take the Snail from the Lampyris, who has operated on the
-edge of the mantle some four or five times. I prick him with a fine
-needle in the fore-part, which the animal, shrunk into its shell, still
-leaves exposed. There is no quiver of the wounded tissues, no reaction
-against the brutality of the needle. A corpse itself could not give
-fewer signs of life.
-
-Here is something even more conclusive: chance occasionally gives me
-Snails attacked by the Lampyris while they are creeping along, the foot
-slowly crawling, the tentacles swollen to their full extent. A few
-disordered movements betray a brief excitement on the part of the
-Mollusc and then everything ceases: the foot no longer slugs; the front
-part loses its graceful swan-neck curve; the tentacles become limp and
-give way under their own weight, dangling feebly like a broken stick.
-This condition persists.
-
-
-Is the Snail really dead? Not at all, for I can resuscitate the seeming
-corpse at will. After two or three days of that singular condition
-which is no longer life and yet not death, I isolate the patient and,
-though this is not really essential to success, I give him a douche
-which will represent the shower so dear to the able-bodied Mollusc. In
-about a couple of days, my prisoner, but lately injured by the
-Glow-worm's treachery, is restored to his normal state. He revives, in
-a manner; he recovers movement and sensibility. He is affected by the
-stimulus of a needle; he shifts his place, crawls, puts out his
-tentacles, as though nothing unusual had occurred. The general torpor,
-a sort of deep drunkenness, has vanished outright. The dead returns to
-life. What name shall we give to that form of existence which, for a
-time, abolishes the power of movement and the sense of pain? I can see
-but one that is approximately suitable: anaesthesia. The exploits of a
-host of Wasps whose flesh-eating grubs are provided with meat that is
-motionless though not dead have taught us the skilful art of the
-paralysing insect, which numbs the locomotory nerve-centres with its
-venom. We have now a humble little animal that first produces complete
-anaesthesia in its patient. Human science did not in reality invent
-this art, which is one of the wonders of latter-day surgery. Much
-earlier, far back in the centuries, the Lampyris and, apparently,
-others knew it as well. The animal's knowledge had a long start of
-ours; the method alone has changed. Our operators proceed by making us
-inhale the fumes of ether or chloroform; the insect proceeds by
-injecting a special virus that comes from the mandibular fangs in
-infinitesimal doses. Might we not one day be able to benefit from this
-hint? What glorious discoveries the future would have in store for us,
-if we understood the beastie's secrets better!
-
-What does the Lampyris want with anaesthetical talent against a
-harmless and moreover eminently peaceful adversary, who would never
-begin the quarrel of his own accord? I think I see. We find in Algeria
-a beetle known as Drilus maroccanus, who, though non-luminous,
-approaches our Glow-worm in his organization and especially in his
-habits. He, too, feeds on Land Molluscs. His prey is a Cyclostome with
-a graceful spiral shell, tightly closed with a stony lid which is
-attached to the animal by a powerful muscle. The lid is a movable door
-which is quickly shut by the inmate's mere withdrawal into his house
-and as easily opened when the hermit goes forth. With this system of
-closing, the abode becomes inviolable; and the Drilus knows it.
-
-Fixed to the surface of the shell by an adhesive apparatus whereof the
-Lampyris will presently show us the equivalent, he remains on the
-look-out, waiting, if necessary, for whole days at a time. At last the
-need of air and food obliges the besieged non-combatant to show
-himself: at least, the door is set slightly ajar. That is enough. The
-Drilus is on the spot and strikes his blow. The door can no longer be
-closed; and the assailant is henceforth master of the fortress. Our
-first impression is that the muscle moving the lid has been cut with a
-quick-acting pair of shears. This idea must be dismissed. The Drilus is
-not well enough equipped with jaws to gnaw through a fleshy mass so
-promptly. The operation has to succeed at once, at the first touch: if
-not, the animal attacked would retreat, still in full vigour, and the
-siege must be recommenced, as arduous as ever, exposing the insect to
-fasts indefinitely prolonged. Although I have never come across the
-Drilus, who is a stranger to my district, I conjecture a method of
-attack very similar to that of the Glow-worm. Like our own Snail-eater,
-the Algerian insect does not cut its victim into small pieces: it
-renders it inert, chloroforms it by means of a few tweaks which are
-easily distributed, if the lid but half-opens for a second. That will
-do. The besieger thereupon enters and, in perfect quiet, consumes a
-prey incapable of the least muscular effort. That is how I see things
-by the unaided light of logic.
-
-Let us now return to the Glow-worm. When the Snail is on the ground,
-creeping, or even shrunk into his shell, the attack never presents any
-difficulty. The shell possesses no lid and leaves the hermit's
-fore-part to a great extent exposed. Here, on the edges of the mantle,
-contracted by the fear of danger, the Mollusc is vulnerable and
-incapable of defence. But it also frequently happens that the Snail
-occupies a raised position, clinging to the tip of a grass-stalk or
-perhaps to the smooth surface of a stone. This support serves him as a
-temporary lid; it wards off the aggression of any churl who might try
-to molest the inhabitant of the cabin, always on the express condition
-that no slit show itself anywhere on the protecting circumference. If,
-on the other hand, in the frequent case when the shell does not fit its
-support quite closely, some point, however tiny, be left uncovered,
-this is enough for the subtle tools of the Lampyris, who just nibbles
-at the Mollusc and at once plunges him into that profound immobility
-which favours the tranquil proceedings of the consumer.
-
-These proceedings are marked by extreme prudence. The assailant has to
-handle his victim gingerly, without provoking contractions which would
-make the Snail let go his support and, at the very least, precipitate
-him from the tall stalk whereon he is blissfully slumbering. Now any
-game falling to the ground would seem to be so much sheer loss, for the
-Glow-worm has no great zeal for hunting-expeditions: he profits by the
-discoveries which good luck sends him, without undertaking assiduous
-searches. It is essential, therefore, that the equilibrium of a prize
-perched on the top of a stalk and only just held in position by a touch
-of glue should be disturbed as little as possible during the onslaught;
-it is necessary that the assailant should go to work with infinite
-circumspection and without producing pain, lest any muscular reaction
-should provoke a fall and endanger the prize. As we see, sudden and
-profound anaesthesia is an excellent means of enabling the Lampyris to
-attain his object, which is to consume his prey in perfect quiet.
-
-What is his manner of consuming it? Does he really eat, that is to say,
-does he divide his food piecemeal, does he carve it into minute
-particles, which are afterwards ground by a chewing-apparatus? I think
-not. I never see a trace of solid nourishment on my captives' mouths.
-The Glow-worm does not eat in the strict sense of the word: he drinks
-his fill; he feeds on a thin gruel into which he transforms his prey by
-a method recalling that of the maggot. Like the flesh-eating grub of
-the Fly, he too is able to digest before consuming; he liquefies his
-prey before feeding on it.
-
-This is how things happen: a Snail has been rendered insensible by the
-Glow-worm. The operator is nearly always alone, even when the prize is
-a large one, like the common Snail, Helix aspersa. Soon a number of
-guests hasten up--two, three, or more--and, without any quarrel with
-the real proprietor, all alike fall to. Let us leave them to themselves
-for a couple of days and then turn the shell, with the opening
-downwards. The contents flow out as easily as would soup from an
-overturned saucepan. When the sated diners retire from this gruel, only
-insignificant leavings remain.
-
-The matter is obvious. By repeated tiny bites, similar to the tweaks
-which we saw distributed at the outset, the flesh of the Mollusc is
-converted into a gruel on which the various banqueters nourish
-themselves without distinction, each working at the broth by means of
-some special pepsine and each taking his own mouthfuls of it. In
-consequence of this method, which first converts the food into a
-liquid, the Glow-worm's mouth must be very feebly armed apart from the
-two fangs which sting the patient and inject the anaesthetic poison and
-at the same time, no doubt, the serum capable of turning the solid
-flesh into fluid. Those two tiny implements, which can just be examined
-through the lens, must, it seems, have some other object. They are
-hollow, and in this resemble those of the Ant-lion, who sucks and
-drains her capture without having to divide it; but there is this great
-difference, that the Ant-lion leaves copious remnants, which are
-afterwards flung outside the funnel-shaped trap dug in the sand,
-whereas the Glow-worm, that expert liquifier, leaves nothing, or next
-to nothing. With similar tools, the one simply sucks the blood of his
-prey and the other turns every morsel of his to account, thanks to a
-preliminary liquefaction.
-
-And this is done with exquisite precision, though the equilibrium is
-sometimes anything but steady. My rearing-glasses supply me with
-magnificent examples. Crawling up the sides, the Snails imprisoned in
-my apparatus sometimes reach the top, which is closed with a glass
-pane, and fix themselves to it with a speck of glair. This is a mere
-temporary halt, in which the Mollusc is miserly with his adhesive
-product, and the merest shake is enough to loosen the shell and send it
-to the bottom of the jar.
-
-Now it is not unusual for the Glow-worm to hoist himself up there, with
-the help of a certain climbing-organ that makes up for his weak legs.
-He selects his quarry, makes a minute inspection of it to find an
-entrance-slit, nibbles at it a little, renders it insensible and,
-without delay, proceeds to prepare the gruel which he will consume for
-days on end.
-
-When he leaves the table, the shell is found to be absolutely empty;
-and yet this shell, which was fixed to the glass by a very faint
-stickiness, has not come loose, has not even shifted its position in
-the smallest degree: without any protest from the hermit gradually
-converted into broth, it has been drained on the very spot at which the
-first attack was delivered. These small details tell us how promptly
-the anaesthetic bite takes effect; they teach us how dexterously the
-Glow-worm treats his Snail without causing him to fall from a very
-slippery, vertical support and without even shaking him on his slight
-line of adhesion.
-
-Under these conditions of equilibrium, the operator's short, clumsy
-legs are obviously not enough; a special accessory apparatus is needed
-to defy the danger of slipping and to seize the unseizable. And this
-apparatus the Lampyris possesses. At the hinder end of the animal we
-see a white spot which the lens separates into some dozen short, fleshy
-appendages, sometimes gathered into a cluster, sometimes spread into a
-rosette. There is your organ of adhesion and locomotion. If he would
-fix himself somewhere, even on a very smooth surface, such as a
-grass-stalk, the Glow-worm opens his rosette and spreads it wide on the
-support, to which it adheres by its own stickiness. The same organ,
-rising and falling, opening and closing, does much to assist the act of
-progression. In short, the Glow-worm is a new sort of self-propelled
-<DW36>, who decks his hind-quarters with a dainty white rose, a kind
-of hand with twelve fingers, not jointed, but moving in every
-direction: tubular fingers which do not seize, but stick.
-
-
-The same organ serves another purpose: that of a toilet-sponge and
-brush. At a moment of rest, after a meal, the Glow-worm passes and
-repasses the said brush over his head, back, sides and hinder parts, a
-performance made possible by the flexibility of his spine. This is done
-point by point, from one end of the body to the other, with a
-scrupulous persistency that proves the great interest which he takes in
-the operation. What is his object in thus sponging himself, in dusting
-and polishing himself so carefully? It is a question, apparently, of
-removing a few atoms of dust or else some traces of viscidity that
-remain from the evil contact with the Snail. A wash and brush-up is not
-superfluous when one leaves the tub in which the Mollusc has been
-treated.
-
-If the Glow-worm possessed no other talent than that of chloroforming
-his prey by means of a few tweaks resembling kisses, he would be
-unknown to the vulgar herd; but he also knows how to light himself like
-a beacon; he shines, which is an excellent manner of achieving fame.
-Let us consider more particularly the female, who, while retaining her
-larval shape, becomes marriageable and glows at her best during the
-hottest part of summer. The lighting-apparatus occupies the last three
-segments of the abdomen. On each of the first two it takes the form, on
-the ventral surface, of a wide belt covering almost the whole of the
-arch; on the third the luminous part is much less and consists simply
-of two small crescent-shaped markings, or rather two spots which shine
-through to the back and are visible both above and below the animal.
-Belts and spots emit a glorious white light, delicately tinged with
-blue. The general lighting of the Glow-worm thus comprises two groups:
-first, the wide belts of the two segments preceding the last; secondly,
-the two spots of the final segments. The two belts, the exclusive
-attribute of the marriageable female, are the parts richest in light:
-to glorify her wedding, the future mother dons her brightest gauds; she
-lights her two resplendent scarves. But, before that, from the time of
-the hatching, she had only the modest rush-light of the stern. This
-efflorescence of light is the equivalent of the final metamorphosis,
-which is usually represented by the gift of wings and flight. Its
-brilliance heralds the pairing-time. Wings and flight there will be
-none: the female retains her humble larval form, but she kindles her
-blazing beacon.
-
-The male, on his side, is fully transformed, changes his shape,
-acquires wings and wing-cases; nevertheless, like the female, he
-possesses, from the time when he is hatched, the pale lamp of the end
-segment. This luminous aspect of the stern is characteristic of the
-entire Glow-worm tribe, independently of sex and season. It appears
-upon the budding grub and continues throughout life unchanged. And we
-must not forget to add that it is visible on the dorsal as well as on
-the ventral surface, whereas the two large belts peculiar to the female
-shine only under the abdomen.
-
-My hand is not so steady nor my sight so good as once they were; but,
-as far as they allow me, I consult anatomy for the structure of the
-luminous organs. I take a scrap of the epidermis and manage to separate
-pretty nearly half of one of the shining belts. I place my preparation
-under the microscope. On the skin a sort of white-wash lies spread,
-formed of a very fine, granular substance. This is certainly the
-light-producing matter. To examine this white layer more closely is
-beyond the power of my weary eyes. Just beside it is a curious
-air-tube, whose short and remarkably wide stem branches suddenly into a
-sort of bushy tuft of very delicate ramifications. These creep over the
-luminous sheet, or even dip into it. That is all.
-
-The luminescence, therefore, is controlled by the respiratory organs
-and the work produced is an oxidation. The white sheet supplies the
-oxidizable matter and the thick air-tube spreading into a tufty bush
-distributes the flow of air over it. There remains the question of the
-substance whereof this sheet is formed. The first suggestion was
-phosphorus, in the chemist's sense of the word. The Glow-worm was
-calcined and treated with the violent reagents that bring the simple
-substances to light; but no one, so far as I know, has obtained a
-satisfactory answer along these lines. Phosphorus seems to play no part
-here, in spite of the name of phosphorescence which is sometimes
-bestowed upon the Glow-worm's gleam. The answer lies elsewhere, no one
-knows where.
-
-We are better-informed as regards another question. Has the Glow-worm a
-free control of the light which he emits? Can he turn it on or down or
-put it out as he pleases? Has he an opaque screen which is drawn over
-the flame at will, or is that flame always left exposed? There is no
-need for any such mechanism: the insect has something better for its
-revolving light.
-
-The thick air-tube supplying the light-producing sheet increases the
-flow of air and the light is intensified; the same tube, swayed by the
-animal's will, slackens or even suspends the passage of air and the
-light grows fainter or even goes out. It is, in short, the mechanism of
-a lamp which is regulated by the access of air to the wick.
-
-Excitement can set the attendant air-duct in motion. We must here
-distinguish between two cases: that of the gorgeous scarves, the
-exclusive ornament of the female ripe for matrimony, and that of the
-modest fairy-lamp on the last segment, which both sexes kindle at any
-age. In the second case, the extinction caused by a flurry is sudden
-and complete, or nearly so. In my nocturnal hunts for young Glow-worms,
-measuring about 5 millimetres long (.195 inch.--Translator's Note.), I
-can plainly see the glimmer on the blades of grass; but, should the
-least false step disturb a neighbouring twig, the light goes out at
-once and the coveted insect becomes invisible. Upon the full-grown
-females, lit up with their nuptial scarves, even a violent start has
-but a slight effect and often none at all.
-
-I fire a gun beside a wire-gauze cage in which I am rearing my
-menagerie of females in the open air. The explosion produces no result.
-The illumination continues, as bright and placid as before. I take a
-spray and rain down a slight shower of cold water upon the flock. Not
-one of my animals puts out its light; at the very most, there is a
-brief pause in the radiance; and then only in some cases. I send a puff
-of smoke from my pipe into the cage. This time the pause is more
-marked. There are even some extinctions, but these do not last long.
-Calm soon returns and the light is renewed as brightly as ever. I take
-some of the captives in my fingers, turn and return them, tease them a
-little. The illumination continues and is not much diminished, if I do
-not press hard with my thumb. At this period, with the pairing close at
-hand, the insect is in all the fervour of its passionate splendour, and
-nothing short of very serious reasons would make it put out its signals
-altogether.
-
-All things considered, there is not a doubt but that the Glow-worm
-himself manages his lighting apparatus, extinguishing and rekindling it
-at will; but there is one point at which the voluntary agency of the
-insect is without effect. I detach a strip of the epidermis showing one
-of the luminescent sheets and place it in a glass tube, which I close
-with a plug of damp wadding, to avoid an over-rapid evaporation. Well,
-this scrap of carcass shines away merrily, although not quite as
-brilliantly as on the living body.
-
-Life's aid is now superfluous. The oxidizable substance, the
-luminescent sheet, is in direct communication with the surrounding
-atmosphere; the flow of oxygen through an air-tube is not necessary;
-and the luminous emission continues to take place, in the same way as
-when it is produced by the contact of the air with the real phosphorus
-of the chemists. Let us add that, in aerated water, the luminousness
-continues as brilliant as in the free air, but that it is extinguished
-in water deprived of its air by boiling. No better proof could be found
-of what I have already propounded, namely, that the Glow-worm's light
-is the effect of a slow oxidation.
-
-The light is white, calm and soft to the eyes and suggests a spark
-dropped by the full moon. Despite its splendour, it is a very feeble
-illuminant. If we move a Glow-worm along a line of print, in perfect
-darkness, we can easily make out the letters, one by one, and even
-words, when these are not too long; but nothing more is visible beyond
-a narrow zone. A lantern of this kind soon tires the reader's patience.
-
-Suppose a group of Glow-worms placed almost touching one another. Each
-of them sheds its glimmer, which ought, one would think, to light up
-its neighbours by reflexion and give us a clear view of each individual
-specimen. But not at all: the luminous party is a chaos in which our
-eyes are unable to distinguish any definite form at a medium distance.
-The collective lights confuse the light-bearers into one vague whole.
-
-Photography gives us a striking proof of this. I have a score of
-females, all at the height of their splendour, in a wire-gauze cage in
-the open air. A tuft of thyme forms a grove in the centre of their
-establishment. When night comes, my captives clamber to this pinnacle
-and strive to show off their luminous charms to the best advantage at
-every point of the horizon, thus forming along the twigs marvellous
-clusters from which I expected magnificent effects on the
-photographer's plates and paper. My hopes were disappointed. All that I
-obtain is white, shapeless patches, denser here and less dense there
-according to the numbers forming the group. There is no picture of the
-Glow-worms themselves; not a trace either of the tuft of thyme. For
-want of satisfactory light, the glorious firework is represented by a
-blurred splash of white on a black ground.
-
-The beacons of the female Glow-worms are evidently nuptial signals,
-invitations to the pairing; but observe that they are lighted on the
-lower surface of the abdomen and face the ground, whereas the summoned
-males, whose flights are sudden and uncertain, travel overhead, in the
-air, sometimes a great way up. In its normal position, therefore, the
-glittering lure is concealed from the eyes of those concerned; it is
-covered by the thick bulk of the bride. The lantern ought really to
-gleam on the back and not under the belly; otherwise the light is
-hidden under a bushel.
-
-The anomaly is corrected in a very ingenious fashion, for every female
-has her little wiles of coquetry. At nightfall, every evening, my caged
-captives make for the tuft of thyme with which I have thoughtfully
-furnished the prison and climb to the top of the upper branches, those
-most in sight. Here, instead of keeping quiet, as they did at the foot
-of the bush just now, they indulge in violent exercises, twist the tip
-of their very flexible abdomen, turn it to one side, turn it to the
-other, jerk it in every direction. In this way, the searchlight cannot
-fail to gleam, at one moment or another, before the eyes of every male
-who goes a-wooing in the neighbourhood, whether on the ground or in the
-air.
-
-It is very like the working of the revolving mirror used in catching
-Larks. If stationary, the little contrivance would leave the bird
-indifferent; turning and breaking up its light in rapid flashes, it
-excites it.
-
-While the female Glow-worm has her tricks for summoning her swains, the
-male, on his side, is provided with an optical apparatus suited to
-catch from afar the least reflection of the calling signal. His
-corselet expands into a shield and overlaps his head considerably in
-the form of a peaked cap or a shade, the object of which appears to be
-to limit the field of vision and concentrate the view upon the luminous
-speck to be discerned. Under this arch are the two eyes, which are
-relatively enormous, exceedingly convex, shaped like a skull-cap and
-contiguous to the extent of leaving only a narrow groove for the
-insertion of the antennae. This double eye, occupying almost the whole
-face of the insect and contained in the cavern formed by the spreading
-peak of the corselet, is a regular Cyclops' eye.
-
-At the moment of the pairing the illumination becomes much fainter, is
-almost extinguished; all that remains alight is the humble fairy-lamp
-of the last segment. This discreet night-light is enough for the
-wedding, while, all around, the host of nocturnal insects, lingering
-over their respective affairs, murmur the universal marriage-hymn. The
-laying follows very soon. The round, white eggs are laid, or rather
-strewn at random, without the least care on the mother's part, either
-on the more or less cool earth or on a blade of grass. These brilliant
-ones know nothing at all of family affection.
-
-Here is a very singular thing: the Glow-worm's eggs are luminous even
-when still contained in the mother's womb. If I happen by accident to
-crush a female big with germs that have reached maturity, a shiny
-streak runs along my fingers, as though I had broken some vessel filled
-with a phosphorescent fluid. The lens shows me that I am wrong. The
-luminosity comes from the cluster of eggs forced out of the ovary.
-Besides, as laying-time approaches, the phosphorescence of the eggs is
-already made manifest through this clumsy midwifery. A soft opalescent
-light shines through the integument of the belly.
-
-The hatching follows soon after the laying. The young of either sex
-have two little rush-lights on the last segment. At the approach of the
-severe weather they go down into the ground, but not very far. In my
-rearing-jars, which are supplied with fine and very loose earth, they
-descend to a depth of three or four inches at most. I dig up a few in
-mid-winter. I always find them carrying their faint stern-light. About
-the month of April they come up again to the surface, there to continue
-and complete their evolution.
-
-From start to finish the Glow-worm's life is one great orgy of light.
-The eggs are luminous; the grubs likewise. The full-grown females are
-magnificent lighthouses, the adult males retain the glimmer which the
-grubs already possessed. We can understand the object of the feminine
-beacon; but of what use is all the rest of the pyrotechnic display? To
-my great regret, I cannot tell. It is and will be, for many a day to
-come, perhaps for all time, the secret of animal physics, which is
-deeper than the physics of the books.
-
-
-
-CHAPTER 14. THE CABBAGE-CATERPILLAR.
-
-The cabbage of our modern kitchen-gardens is a semi-artificial plant,
-the produce of our agricultural ingenuity quite as much as of the
-niggardly gifts of nature. Spontaneous vegetation supplied us with the
-long-stalked, scanty-leaved, ill-smelling wilding, as found, according
-to the botanists, on the ocean cliffs. He had need of a rare
-inspiration who first showed faith in this rustic clown and proposed to
-improve it in his garden-patch.
-
-Progressing by infinitesimal degrees, culture wrought miracles. It
-began by persuading the wild cabbage to discard its wretched leaves,
-beaten by the sea-winds, and to replace them by others, ample and
-fleshy and close-fitting. The gentle cabbage submitted without protest.
-It deprived itself of the joys of light by arranging its leaves in a
-large compact head, white and tender. In our day, among the successors
-of those first tiny hearts, are some that, by virtue of their massive
-bulk, have earned the glorious name of chou quintal, as who should say
-a hundredweight of cabbage. They are real monuments of green stuff.
-
-Later, man thought of obtaining a generous dish with a thousand little
-sprays of the inflorescence. The cabbage consented. Under the cover of
-the central leaves, it gorged with food its sheaves of blossom, its
-flower-stalks, its branches and worked the lot into a fleshy
-conglomeration. This is the cauliflower, the broccoli.
-
-Differently entreated, the plant, economizing in the centre of its
-shoot, set a whole family of close-wrapped cabbages ladder-wise on a
-tall stem. A multitude of dwarf leaf-buds took the place of the
-colossal head. This is the Brussels sprout.
-
-Next comes the turn of the stump, an unprofitable, almost wooden,
-thing, which seemed never to have any other purpose than to act as a
-support for the plant. But the tricks of gardeners are capable of
-everything, so much so that the stalk yields to the grower's
-suggestions and becomes fleshy and swells into an ellipse similar to
-the turnip, of which it possesses all the merits of corpulence, flavour
-and delicacy; only the strange product serves as a base for a few
-sparse leaves, the last protests of a real stem that refuses to lose
-its attributes entirely. This is the cole-rape.
-
-If the stem allows itself to be allured, why not the root? It does, in
-fact, yield to the blandishments of agriculture: it dilates its pivot
-into a flat turnip, which half emerges from the ground. This is the
-rutabaga, or swede, the turnip-cabbage of our northern districts.
-
-Incomparably docile under our nursing, the cabbage has given its all
-for our nourishment and that of our cattle: its leaves, its flowers,
-its buds, its stalk, its root; all that it now wants is to combine the
-ornamental with the useful, to smarten itself, to adorn our flowerbeds
-and cut a good figure on a drawing-room table. It has done this to
-perfection, not with its flowers, which, in their modesty, continue
-intractable, but with its curly and variegated leaves, which have the
-undulating grace of Ostrich-feathers and the rich colouring of a mixed
-bouquet. None who beholds it in this magnificence will recognize the
-near relation of the vulgar "greens" that form the basis of our
-cabbage-soup.
-
-The cabbage, first in order of date in our kitchen-gardens, was held in
-high esteem by classic antiquity, next after the bean and, later, the
-pea; but it goes much farther back, so far indeed that no memories of
-its acquisition remain. History pays but little attention to these
-details: it celebrates the battle-fields whereon we meet our death, but
-scorns to speak of the ploughed fields whereby we thrive; it knows the
-names of the kings' bastards, but cannot tell us the origin of wheat.
-That is the way of human folly.
-
-This silence respecting the precious plants that serve as food is most
-regrettable. The cabbage in particular, the venerable cabbage, that
-denizen of the most ancient garden-plots, would have had extremely
-interesting things to teach us. It is a treasure in itself, but a
-treasure twice exploited, first by man and next by the caterpillar of
-the Pieris, the common Large White Butterfly whom we all know (Pieris
-brassicae, Lin.). This caterpillar feeds indiscriminately on the leaves
-of all varieties of cabbage, however dissimilar in appearance: he
-nibbles with the same appetite red cabbage and broccoli, curly greens
-and savoy, swedes and turnip-tops, in short, all that our ingenuity,
-lavish of time and patience, has been able to obtain from the original
-plant since the most distant ages.
-
-But what did the caterpillar eat before our cabbages supplied him with
-copious provender? Obviously the Pieris did not wait for the advent of
-man and his horticultural works in order to take part in the joys of
-life. She lived without us and would have continued to live without us.
-A Butterfly's existence is not subject to ours, but rightfully
-independent of our aid.
-
-Before the white-heart, the cauliflower, the savoy and the others were
-invented, the Pieris' caterpillar certainly did not lack food: he
-browsed on the wild cabbage of the cliffs, the parent of all the
-latter-day wealth; but, as this plant is not widely distributed and is,
-in any case, limited to certain maritime regions, the welfare of the
-Butterfly, whether on plain or hill, demanded a more luxuriant and more
-common plant for pasturage. This plant was apparently one of the
-Cruciferae, more or less seasoned with sulpheretted essence, like the
-cabbages. Let us experiment on these lines.
-
-I rear the Pieris' caterpillars from the egg upwards on the wall-rocket
-(Diplotaxis tenuifolia, Dec.), which imbibes strong spices along the
-edge of the paths and at the foot of the walls. Penned in a large
-wire-gauze bell-cage, they accept this provender without demur; they
-nibble it with the same appetite as if it were cabbage; and they end by
-producing chrysalids and Butterflies. The change of fare causes not the
-least trouble.
-
-I am equally successful with other crucifers of a less marked flavour:
-white mustard (Sinapis incana, Lin.), dyer's woad (Isatis tinctoria,
-Lin.), wild radish (Raphanus raphanistrum, Lin.), whitlow pepperwort
-(Lepidium draba, Lin.), hedge-mustard (Sisymbrium officinale, Scop.).
-On the other hand, the leaves of the lettuce, the bean, the pea, the
-corn-salad are obstinately refused. Let us be content with what we have
-seen: the fare has been sufficiently varied to show us that the
-cabbage-caterpillar feeds exclusively on a large number of crucifers,
-perhaps even on all.
-
-As these experiments are made in the enclosure of a bell-cage, one
-might imagine that captivity impels the flock to feed, in the absence
-of better things, on what it would refuse were it free to hunt for
-itself. Having naught else within their reach, the starvelings consume
-any and all Cruciferae, without distinction of species. Can things
-sometimes be the same in the open fields, where I play none of my
-tricks? Can the family of the White Butterfly be settled on other
-Crucifers than the cabbage? I start a quest along the paths near the
-gardens and end by finding on wild radish and white mustard colonies as
-crowded and prosperous as those established on cabbage.
-
-Now, except when the metamorphosis is at hand, the caterpillar of the
-White Butterfly never travels: he does all his growing on the identical
-plant whereon he saw the light. The caterpillars observed on the wild
-radish, as well as other households, are not, therefore, emigrants who
-have come as a matter of fancy from some cabbage-patch in the
-neighbourhood: they have hatched on the very leaves where I find them.
-Hence I arrive at this conclusion: the White Butterfly, who is fitful
-in her flight, chooses cabbage first, to dab her eggs upon, and
-different Cruciferae next, varying greatly in appearance.
-
-How does the Pieris manage to know her way about her botanical domain?
-We have seen the Larini (A species of Weevils found on
-thistle-heads.--Translator's Note.), those explorers of fleshy
-receptacles with an artichoke flavour, astonish us with their knowledge
-of the flora of the thistle tribe; but their lore might, at a pinch, be
-explained by the method followed at the moment of housing the egg. With
-their rostrum, they prepare niches and dig out basins in the receptacle
-exploited and consequently they taste the thing a little before
-entrusting their eggs to it. On the other hand, the Butterfly, a
-nectar-drinker, makes not the least enquiry into the savoury qualities
-of the leafage; at most dipping her proboscis into the flowers, she
-abstracts a mouthful of syrup. This means of investigation, moreover,
-would be of no use to her, for the plant selected for the establishing
-of her family is, for the most part, not yet in flower. The mother
-flits for a moment around the plant; and that swift examination is
-enough: the emission of eggs takes place if the provender be found
-suitable.
-
-The botanist, to recognize a crucifer, requires the indication provided
-by the flower. Here the Pieris surpasses us. She does not consult the
-seed-vessel, to see if it be long or short, nor yet the petals, four in
-number and arranged in a cross, because the plant, as a rule, is not in
-flower; and still she recognizes offhand what suits her caterpillars,
-in spite of profound differences that would embarrass any but a
-botanical expert.
-
-Unless the Pieris has an innate power of discrimination to guide her,
-it is impossible to understand the great extent of her vegetable realm.
-She needs for her family Cruciferae, nothing but Cruciferae; and she
-knows this group of plants to perfection. I have been an enthusiastic
-botanist for half a century and more. Nevertheless, to discover if this
-or that plant, new to me, is or is not one of the Cruciferae, in the
-absence of flowers and fruits I should have more faith in the
-Butterfly's statements than in all the learned records of the books.
-Where science is apt to make mistakes instinct is infallible.
-
-The Pieris has two families a year: one in April and May, the other in
-September. The cabbage-patches are renewed in those same months. The
-Butterfly's calendar tallies with the gardener's: the moment that
-provisions are in sight, consumers are forthcoming for the feast.
-
-The eggs are a bright orange-yellow and do not lack prettiness when
-examined under the lens. They are blunted cones, ranged side by side on
-their round base and adorned with finely-scored longitudinal ridges.
-They are collected in slabs, sometimes on the upper surface, when the
-leaf that serves as a support is spread wide, sometimes on the lower
-surface when the leaf is pressed to the next ones. Their number varies
-considerably. Slabs of a couple of hundred are pretty frequent;
-isolated eggs, or eggs collected in small groups, are, on the contrary,
-rare. The mother's output is affected by the degree of quietness at the
-moment of laying.
-
-The outer circumference of the group is irregularly formed, but the
-inside presents a certain order. The eggs are here arranged in straight
-rows backing against one another in such a way that each egg finds a
-double support in the preceding row. This alternation, without being of
-an irreproachable precision, gives a fairly stable equilibrium to the
-whole.
-
-To see the mother at her laying is no easy matter: when examined too
-closely, the Pieris decamps at once. The structure of the work,
-however, reveals the order of the operations pretty clearly. The
-ovipositor swings slowly first in this direction, then in that, by
-turns; and a new egg is lodged in each space between two adjoining eggs
-in the previous row. The extent of the oscillation determines the
-length of the row, which is longer or shorter according to the layer's
-fancy.
-
-The hatching takes place in about a week. It is almost simultaneous for
-the whole mass: as soon as one caterpillar comes out of its egg, the
-others come out also, as though the natal impulse were communicated
-from one to the other. In the same way, in the nest of the Praying
-Mantis, a warning seems to be spread abroad, arousing every one of the
-population. It is a wave propagated in all directions from the point
-first struck.
-
-The egg does not open by means of a dehiscence similar to that of the
-vegetable-pods whose seeds have attained maturity; it is the new-born
-grub itself that contrives an exit-way by gnawing a hole in its
-enclosure. In this manner, it obtains near the top of the cone a
-symmetrical dormer-window, clean-edged, with no joins nor unevenness of
-any kind, showing that this part of the wall has been nibbled away and
-swallowed. But for this breach, which is just wide enough for the
-deliverance, the egg remains intact, standing firmly on its base. It is
-now that the lens is best able to take in its elegant structure. What
-it sees is a bag made of ultra-fine gold-beater's skin, translucent,
-stiff and white, retaining the complete form of the original egg. A
-score of streaked and knotted lines run from the top to the base. It is
-the wizard's pointed cap, the mitre with the grooves carved into
-jewelled chaplets. All said, the Cabbage-caterpillar's birth-casket is
-an exquisite work of art.
-
-The hatching of the lot is finished in a couple of hours and the
-swarming family musters on the layer of swaddling-clothes, still in the
-same position. For a long time, before descending to the fostering
-leaf, it lingers on this kind of hot-bed, is even very busy there. Busy
-with what? It is browsing a strange kind of grass, the handsome mitres
-that remain standing on end. Slowly and methodically, from top to base,
-the new-born grubs nibble the wallets whence they have just emerged. By
-to-morrow, nothing is left of these but a pattern of round dots, the
-bases of the vanished sacks.
-
-As his first mouthfuls, therefore, the Cabbage-caterpillar eats the
-membranous wrapper of his egg. This is a regulation diet, for I have
-never seen one of the little grubs allow itself to be tempted by the
-adjacent green stuff before finishing the ritual repast whereat skin
-bottles furnish forth the feast. It is the first time that I have seen
-a larva make a meal of the sack in which it was born. Of what use can
-this singular fare be to the budding caterpillar? I suspect as follows:
-the leaves of the cabbage are waxed and slippery surfaces and nearly
-always slant considerably. To graze on them without risking a fall,
-which would be fatal in earliest childhood, is hardly possible unless
-with moorings that afford a steady support. What is needed is bits of
-silk stretched along the road as fast as progress is made, something
-for the legs to grip, something to provide a good anchorage even when
-the grub is upside down. The silk-tubes, where those moorings are
-manufactured, must be very scantily supplied in a tiny, new-born
-animal; and it is expedient that they be filled without delay with the
-aid of a special form of nourishment. Then what shall the nature of the
-first food be? Vegetable matter, slow to elaborate and niggardly in its
-yield, does not fulfil the desired conditions at all well, for time
-presses and we must trust ourselves safely to the slippery leaf. An
-animal diet would be preferable: it is easier to digest and undergoes
-chemical changes in a shorter time. The wrapper of the egg is of a
-horny nature, as silk itself is. It will not take long to transform the
-one into the other. The grub therefore tackles the remains of its egg
-and turns it into silk to carry with it on its first journeys.
-
-If my surmise is well-founded, there is reason to believe that, with a
-view to speedily filling the silk-glands to which they look to supply
-them with ropes, other caterpillars beginning their existence on smooth
-and steeply-slanting leaves also take as their first mouthful the
-membranous sack which is all that remains of the egg.
-
-The whole of the platform of birth-sacks which was the first
-camping-ground of the White Butterfly's family is razed to the ground;
-naught remains but the round marks of the individual pieces that
-composed it. The structure of piles has disappeared; the prints left by
-the piles remain. The little caterpillars are now on the level of the
-leaf which shall henceforth feed them. They are a pale orange-yellow,
-with a sprinkling of white bristles. The head is a shiny black and
-remarkably powerful; it already gives signs of the coming gluttony. The
-little animal measures scarcely two millimetres in length. (.078
-inch.--Translator's Note.)
-
-The troop begins its steadying-work as soon as it comes into contact
-with its pasturage, the green cabbage-leaf. Here, there, in its
-immediate neighbourhood, each grub emits from its spinning glands short
-cables so slender that it takes an attentive lens to catch a glimpse of
-them. This is enough to ensure the equilibrium of the almost
-imponderable atom.
-
-The vegetarian meal now begins. The grub's length promptly increases
-from two millimetres to four. Soon, a moult takes place which alters
-its costume: its skin becomes speckled, on a pale-yellow ground, with a
-number of black dots intermingled with white bristles. Three or four
-days of rest are necessary after the fatigue of breaking cover. When
-this is over, the hunger-fit starts that will make a ruin of the
-cabbage within a few weeks.
-
-What an appetite! What a stomach, working continuously day and night!
-It is a devouring laboratory, through which the foodstuffs merely pass,
-transformed at once. I serve up to my caged herd a bunch of leaves
-picked from among the biggest: two hours later, nothing remains but the
-thick midribs; and even these are attacked when there is any delay in
-renewing the victuals. At this rate a "hundredweight-cabbage," doled
-out leaf by leaf, would not last my menagerie a week.
-
-The gluttonous animal, therefore, when it swarms and multiplies, is a
-scourge. How are we to protect our gardens against it? In the days of
-Pliny, the great Latin naturalist, a stake was set up in the middle of
-the cabbage-bed to be preserved; and on this stake was fixed a Horse's
-skull bleached in the sun: a Mare's skull was considered even better.
-This sort of bogey was supposed to ward off the devouring brood.
-
-My confidence in this preservative is but an indifferent one; my reason
-for mentioning it is that it reminds me of a custom still observed in
-our own days, at least in my part of the country. Nothing is so
-long-lived as absurdity. Tradition has retained in a simplified form,
-the ancient defensive apparatus of which Pliny speaks. For the Horse's
-skull our people have substituted an egg-shell on the top of a switch
-stuck among the cabbages. It is easier to arrange; also it is quite as
-useful, that is to say, it has no effect whatever.
-
-Everything, even the nonsensical, is capable of explanation with a
-little credulity. When I question the peasants, our neighbours, they
-tell me that the effect of the egg-shell is as simple as can be: the
-Butterflies, attracted by the whiteness, come and lay their eggs upon
-it. Broiled by the sun and lacking all nourishment on that thankless
-support, the little caterpillars die; and that makes so many fewer.
-
-I insist; I ask them if they have ever seen slabs of eggs or masses of
-young caterpillars on those white shells.
-
-"Never," they reply, with one voice.
-
-"Well, then?"
-
-"It was done in the old days and so we go on doing it: that's all we
-know; and that's enough for us."
-
-I leave it at that, persuaded that the memory of the Horse's skull,
-used once upon a time, is ineradicable, like all the rustic absurdities
-implanted by the ages.
-
-We have, when all is said, but one means of protection, which is to
-watch and inspect the cabbage-leaves assiduously and crush the slabs of
-eggs between our finger and thumb and the caterpillars with our feet.
-Nothing is so effective as this method, which makes great demands on
-one's time and vigilance. What pains to obtain an unspoilt cabbage! And
-what a debt do we not owe to those humble scrapers of the soil, those
-ragged heroes, who provide us with the wherewithal to live!
-
-To eat and digest, to accumulate reserves whence the Butterfly will
-issue: that is the caterpillar's one and only business. The
-Cabbage-caterpillar performs it with insatiable gluttony. Incessantly
-it browses, incessantly digests: the supreme felicity of an animal
-which is little more than an intestine. There is never a distraction,
-unless it be certain see-saw movements which are particularly curious
-when several caterpillars are grazing side by side, abreast. Then, at
-intervals, all the heads in the row are briskly lifted and as briskly
-lowered, time after time, with an automatic precision worthy of a
-Prussian drill-ground. Can it be their method of intimidating an always
-possible aggressor? Can it be a manifestation of gaiety, when the
-wanton sun warms their full paunches? Whether sign of fear or sign of
-bliss, this is the only exercise that the gluttons allow themselves
-until the proper degree of plumpness is attained.
-
-After a month's grazing, the voracious appetite of my caged herd is
-assuaged. The caterpillars climb the trelliswork in every direction,
-walk about anyhow, with their forepart raised and searching space. Here
-and there, as they pass, the swaying herd put forth a thread. They
-wander restlessly, anxiously to travel afar. The exodus now prevented
-by the trellised enclosure I once saw under excellent conditions. At
-the advent of the cold weather, I had placed a few cabbage-stalks,
-covered with caterpillars, in a small greenhouse. Those who saw the
-common kitchen vegetable sumptuously lodged under glass, in the company
-of the pelargonium and the Chinese primrose, were astonished at my
-curious fancy. I let them smile. I had my plans: I wanted to find out
-how the family of the Large White Butterfly behaves when the cold
-weather sets in. Things happened just as I wished. At the end of
-November, the caterpillars, having grown to the desired extent, left
-the cabbages, one by one, and began to roam about the walls. None of
-them fixed himself there or made preparations for the transformation. I
-suspected that they wanted the choice of a spot in the open air,
-exposed to all the rigours of winter. I therefore left the door of the
-hothouse open. Soon the whole crowd had disappeared.
-
-I found them dispersed all over the neighbouring walls, some thirty
-yards off. The thrust of a ledge, the eaves formed by a projecting bit
-of mortar served them as a shelter where the chrysalid moult took place
-and where the winter was passed. The Cabbage-caterpillar possesses a
-robust constitution, unsusceptible to torrid heat or icy cold. All that
-he needs for his metamorphosis is an airy lodging, free from permanent
-damp.
-
-The inmates of my fold, therefore, move about for a few days on the
-trelliswork, anxious to travel afar in search of a wall. Finding none
-and realizing that time presses, they resign themselves. Each one,
-supporting himself on the trellis, first weaves around himself a thin
-carpet of white silk, which will form the sustaining layer at the time
-of the laborious and delicate work of the nymphosis. He fixes his
-rear-end to this base by a silk pad and his fore-part by a strap that
-passes under his shoulders and is fixed on either side to the carpet.
-Thus slung from his three fastenings, he strips himself of his larval
-apparel and turns into a chrysalis in the open air, with no protection
-save that of the wall, which the caterpillar would certainly have found
-had I not interfered.
-
-Of a surety, he would be short-sighted indeed that pictured a world of
-good things prepared exclusively for our advantage. The earth, the
-great foster-mother, has a generous breast. At the very moment when
-nourishing matter is created, even though it be with our own zealous
-aid, she summons to the feast host upon host of consumers, who are all
-the more numerous and enterprising in proportion as the table is more
-amply spread. The cherry of our orchards is excellent eating: a maggot
-contends with us for its possession. In vain do we weigh suns and
-planets: our supremacy, which fathoms the universe, cannot prevent a
-wretched worm from levying its toll on the delicious fruit. We make
-ourselves at home in a cabbage bed: the sons of the Pieris make
-themselves at home there too. Preferring broccoli to wild radish, they
-profit where we have profited; and we have no remedy against their
-competition save caterpillar-raids and egg-crushing, a thankless,
-tedious, and none too efficacious work.
-
-Every creature has its claims on life. The Cabbage-caterpillar eagerly
-puts forth his own, so much so that the cultivation of the precious
-plant would be endangered if others concerned did not take part in its
-defence. These others are the auxiliaries (The author employs this word
-to denote the insects that are helpful, while describing as "ravagers"
-the insects that are hurtful to the farmer's crops.--Translator's
-Note.), our helpers from necessity and not from sympathy. The words
-friend and foe, auxiliaries and ravagers are here the mere conventions
-of a language not always adapted to render the exact truth. He is our
-foe who eats or attacks our crops; our friend is he who feeds upon our
-foes. Everything is reduced to a frenzied contest of appetites.
-
-In the name of the might that is mine, of trickery, of highway robbery,
-clear out of that, you, and make room for me: give me your seat at the
-banquet! That is the inexorable law in the world of animals and more or
-less, alas, in our own world as well!
-
-Now, among our entomological auxiliaries, the smallest in size are the
-best at their work. One of them is charged with watching over the
-cabbages. She is so small, she works so discreetly that the gardener
-does not know her, has not even heard of her. Were he to see her by
-accident, flitting around the plant which she protects, he would take
-no notice of her, would not suspect the service rendered. I propose to
-set forth the tiny <DW40>'s deserts.
-
-Scientists call her Microgaster glomeratus. What exactly was in the
-mind of the author of the name Microgaster, which means little belly?
-Did he intend to allude to the insignificance of the abdomen? Not so.
-However slight the belly may be, the insect nevertheless possesses one,
-correctly proportioned to the rest of the body, so that the classic
-denomination, far from giving us any information, might mislead us,
-were we to trust it wholly. Nomenclature, which changes from day to day
-and becomes more and more cacophonous, is an unsafe guide. Instead of
-asking the animal what its name is, let us begin by asking:
-
-"What can you do? What is your business?"
-
-Well, the Microgaster's business is to exploit the Cabbage-caterpillar,
-a clearly-defined business, admitting of no possible confusion. Would
-we behold her works? In the spring, let us inspect the neighbourhood of
-the kitchen-garden. Be our eye never so unobservant, we shall notice
-against the walls or on the withered grasses at the foot of the hedges
-some very small yellow cocoons, heaped into masses the size of a
-hazel-nut.
-
-Beside each group lies a Cabbage-caterpillar, sometimes dying,
-sometimes dead, and always presenting a most tattered appearance. These
-cocoons are the work of the Microgaster's family, hatched or on the
-point of hatching into the perfect stage; the caterpillar is the dish
-whereon that family has fed during its larval state. The epithet
-glomeratus, which accompanies the name of Microgaster, suggests this
-conglomeration of cocoons. Let us collect the clusters as they are,
-without seeking to separate them, an operation which would demand both
-patience and dexterity, for the cocoons are closely united by the
-inextricable tangle of their surface-threads. In May a swarm of pigmies
-will sally forth, ready to get to business in the cabbages.
-
-Colloquial language uses the terms Midge and Gnat to describe the tiny
-insects which we often see dancing in a ray of sunlight. There is
-something of everything in those aerial ballets. It is possible that
-the persecutrix of the Cabbage-caterpillar is there, along with many
-another; but the name of Midge cannot properly be applied to her. He
-who says Midge says Fly, Dipteron, two-winged insect; and our friend
-has four wings, one and all adapted for flying. By virtue of this
-characteristic and others no less important, she belongs to the order
-of Hymenoptera. (This order includes the Ichneumon-flies, of whom the
-Microgaster is one.--Translator's Note.) No matter: as our language
-possesses no more precise term outside the scientific vocabulary, let
-us use the expression Midge, which pretty well conveys the general
-idea. Our Midge, the Microgaster, is the size of an average Gnat. She
-measures 3 or 4 millimetres. (.117 to .156 inch.--Translator's Note.)
-The two sexes are equally numerous and wear the same costume, a black
-uniform, all but the legs, which are pale red. In spite of this
-likeness, they are easily distinguished. The male has an abdomen which
-is slightly flattened and, moreover, curved at the tip; the female,
-before the laying, has hers full and perceptibly distended by its
-ovular contents. This rapid sketch of the insect should be enough for
-our purpose.
-
-If we wish to know the grub and especially to inform ourselves of its
-manner of living, it is advisable to rear in a cage a numerous herd of
-Cabbage-caterpillars. Whereas a direct search on the cabbages in our
-garden would give us but a difficult and uncertain harvest, by this
-means we shall daily have as many as we wish before our eyes.
-
-In the course of June, which is the time when the caterpillars quit
-their pastures and go far afield to settle on some wall or other, those
-in my fold, finding nothing better, climb to the dome of the cage to
-make their preparations and to spin a supporting network for the
-chrysalid's needs. Among these spinners we see some weaklings working
-listlessly at their carpet. Their appearance makes us deem them in the
-grip of a mortal disease. I take a few of them and open their bellies,
-using a needle by way of a scalpel. What comes out is a bunch of green
-entrails, soaked in a bright yellow fluid, which is really the
-creature's blood. These tangled intestines swarm with little lazy
-grubs, varying greatly in number, from ten or twenty at least to
-sometimes half a hundred. They are the offspring of the Microgaster.
-
-What do they feed on? The lens makes conscientious enquiries; nowhere
-does it manage to show me the vermin attacking solid nourishment, fatty
-tissues, muscles or other parts; nowhere do I see them bite, gnaw, or
-dissect. The following experiment will tell us more fully: I pour into
-a watch-glass the crowds extracted from the hospitable paunches. I
-flood them with caterpillar's blood obtained by simple pricks; I place
-the preparation under a glass bell-jar, in a moist atmosphere, to
-prevent evaporation; I repeat the nourishing bath by means of fresh
-bleedings and give them the stimulant which they would have gained from
-the living caterpillar. Thanks to these precautions, my charges have
-all the appearance of excellent health; they drink and thrive. But this
-state of things cannot last long. Soon ripe for the transformation, my
-grubs leave the dining-room of the watch-glass as they would have left
-the caterpillar's belly; they come to the ground to try and weave their
-tiny cocoons. They fail in the attempt and perish. They have missed a
-suitable support, that is to say, the silky carpet provided by the
-dying caterpillar. No matter: I have seen enough to convince me. The
-larvae of the Microgaster do not eat in the strict sense of the word;
-they live on soup; and that soup is the caterpillar's blood.
-
-Examine the parasites closely and you shall see that their diet is
-bound to be a liquid one. They are little white grubs, neatly
-segmented, with a pointed forepart splashed with tiny black marks, as
-though the atom had been slaking its thirst in a drop of ink. It moves
-its hind-quarters slowly, without shifting its position. I place it
-under the microscope. The mouth is a pore, devoid of any apparatus for
-disintegration-work: it has no fangs, no horny nippers, no mandibles;
-its attack is just a kiss. It does not chew, it sucks, it takes
-discreet sips at the moisture all around it.
-
-The fact that it refrains entirely from biting is confirmed by my
-autopsy of the stricken caterpillars. In the patient's belly,
-notwithstanding the number of nurselings who hardly leave room for the
-nurse's entrails, everything is in perfect order; nowhere do we see a
-trace of mutilation. Nor does aught on the outside betray any havoc
-within. The exploited caterpillars graze and move about peacefully,
-giving no sign of pain. It is impossible for me to distinguish them
-from the unscathed ones in respect of appetite and untroubled
-digestion.
-
-When the time approaches to weave the carpet for the support of the
-chrysalis, an appearance of emaciation at last points to the evil that
-is at their vitals. They spin nevertheless. They are stoics who do not
-forget their duty in the hour of death. At last they expire, quite
-softly, not of any wounds, but of anaemia, even as a lamp goes out when
-the oil comes to an end. And it has to be. The living caterpillar,
-capable of feeding himself and forming blood, is a necessity for the
-welfare of the grubs; he has to last about a month, until the
-Microgaster's offspring have achieved their full growth. The two
-calendars synchronize in a remarkable way. When the caterpillar leaves
-off eating and makes his preparations for the metamorphosis, the
-parasites are ripe for the exodus. The bottle dries up when the
-drinkers cease to need it; but until that moment it must remain more or
-less well-filled, although becoming limper daily. It is important,
-therefore, that the caterpillar's existence be not endangered by wounds
-which, even though very tiny, would stop the working of the
-blood-fountains. With this intent, the drainers of the bottle are, in a
-manner of speaking, muzzled; they have by way of a mouth a pore that
-sucks without bruising.
-
-The dying caterpillar continues to lay the silk of his carpet with a
-slow oscillation of the head. The moment now comes for the parasites to
-emerge. This happens in June and generally at nightfall. A breach is
-made on the ventral surface or else in the sides, never on the back:
-one breach only, contrived at a point of minor resistance, at the
-junction of two segments; for it is bound to be a toilsome business, in
-the absence of a set of filing-tools. Perhaps the grubs take one
-another's places at the point attacked and come by turns to work at it
-with a kiss.
-
-In one short spell, the whole tribe issues through this single opening
-and is soon wriggling about, perched on the surface of the caterpillar.
-The lens cannot perceive the hole, which closes on the instant. There
-is not even a haemorrhage: the bottle has been drained too thoroughly.
-You must press it between your fingers to squeeze out a few drops of
-moisture and thus discover the place of exit.
-
-Around the caterpillar, who is not always quite dead and who sometimes
-even goes on weaving his carpet a moment longer, the vermin at once
-begin to work at their cocoons. The straw- thread, drawn from
-the silk-glands by a backward jerk of the head, is first fixed to the
-white network of the caterpillar and then produces adjacent warp-beams,
-so that, by mutual entanglements, the individual works are welded
-together and form an agglomeration in which each of the grubs has its
-own cabin. For the moment, what is woven is not the real cocoon, but a
-general scaffolding which will facilitate the construction of the
-separate shells. All these frames rest upon those adjoining and, mixing
-up their threads, become a common edifice wherein each grub contrives a
-shelter for itself. Here at last the real cocoon is spun, a pretty
-little piece of closely-woven work.
-
-In my rearing-jars I obtain as many groups of these tiny shells as my
-future experiments can wish for. Three-fourths of the caterpillars have
-supplied me with them, so ruthless has been the toll of the spring
-births. I lodge these groups, one by one, in separate glass tubes, thus
-forming a collection on which I can draw at will, while, in view of my
-experiments, I keep under observation the whole swarm produced by one
-caterpillar.
-
-The adult Microgaster appears a fortnight later, in the middle of June.
-There are fifty in the first tube examined. The riotous multitude is in
-the full enjoyment of the pairing-season, for the two sexes always
-figure among the guests of any one caterpillar. What animation! What an
-orgy of love! The carnival of these pigmies bewilders the observer and
-makes his head swim.
-
-Most of the females, wishful of liberty, plunge down to the waist
-between the glass of the tube and the plug of cotton-wool that closes
-the end turned to the light; but the lower halves remain free and form
-a circular gallery in front of which the males hustle one another, take
-one another's places and hastily operate. Each bides his turn, each
-attends to his little matters for a few moments and then makes way for
-his rivals and goes off to start again elsewhere. The turbulent wedding
-lasts all the morning and begins afresh next day, a mighty throng of
-couples embracing, separating and embracing once more.
-
-There is every reason to believe that, in gardens, the mated ones,
-finding themselves in isolated couples, would keep quieter. Here, in
-the tube, things degenerate into a riot because the assembly is too
-numerous for the narrow space.
-
-What is lacking to complete its happiness? Apparently a little food, a
-few sugary mouthfuls extracted from the flowers. I serve up some
-provisions in the tubes: not drops of honey, in which the puny
-creatures would get stuck, but little strips of paper spread with that
-dainty. They come to them, take their stand on them and refresh
-themselves. The fare appears to agree with them. With this diet,
-renewed as the strips dry up, I can keep them in very good condition
-until the end of my inquisition.
-
-There is another arrangement to be made. The colonists in my spare
-tubes are restless and quick of flight; they will have to be
-transferred presently to sundry vessels without my risking the loss of
-a good number, or even the whole lot, a loss which my hands, my forceps
-and other means of coercion would be unable to prevent by checking the
-nimble movements of the tiny prisoners. The irresistible attraction of
-the sunlight comes to my aid. If I lay one of my tubes horizontally on
-the table, turning one end towards the full light of a sunny window,
-the captives at once make for the brighter end and play about there for
-a long while, without seeking to retreat. If I turn the tube in the
-opposite direction, the crowd immediately shifts its quarters and
-collects at the other end. The brilliant sunlight is its great joy.
-With this bait, I can send it whithersoever I please.
-
-We will therefore place the new receptacle, jar or test-tube, on the
-table, pointing the closed end towards the window. At its mouth, we
-open one of the full tubes. No other precaution is needed: even though
-the mouth leaves a large interval free, the swarm hastens into the
-lighted chamber. All that remains to be done is to close the apparatus
-before moving it. The observer is now in control of the multitude,
-without appreciable losses, and is able to question it at will.
-
-We will begin by asking:
-
-"How do you manage to lodge your germs inside the caterpillar?"
-
-This question and others of the same category, which ought to take
-precedence of everything else, are generally neglected by the impaler
-of insects, who cares more for the niceties of nomenclature than for
-glorious realities. He classifies his subjects, dividing them into
-regiments with barbarous labels, a work which seems to him the highest
-expression of entomological science. Names, nothing but names: the rest
-hardly counts. The persecutor of the Pieris used to be called
-Microgaster, that is to say, little belly: to-day she is called
-Apanteles, that is to say, the incomplete. What a fine step forward! We
-now know all about it!
-
-Can our friend at least tell us how "the Little Belly" or "the
-Incomplete" gets into the caterpillar? Not a bit of it! A book which,
-judging by its recent date, should be the faithful echo of our actual
-knowledge, informs us that the Microgaster inserts her eggs direct into
-the caterpillar's body. It goes on to say that the parasitic vermin
-inhabit the chrysalis, whence they make their way out by perforating
-the stout horny wrapper. Hundreds of times have I witnessed the exodus
-of the grubs ripe for weaving their cocoons; and the exit has always
-been made through the skin of the caterpillar and never through the
-armour of the chrysalis. The fact that its mouth is a mere clinging
-pore, deprived of any offensive weapon, would even lead me to believe
-that the grub is incapable of perforating the chrysalid's covering.
-
-This proved error makes me doubt the other proposition, though logical,
-after all, and agreeing with the methods followed by a host of
-parasites. No matter: my faith in what I read in print is of the
-slightest; I prefer to go straight to facts. Before making a statement
-of any kind, I want to see, what I call seeing. It is a slower and more
-laborious process; but it is certainly much safer.
-
-I will not undertake to lie in wait for what takes place on the
-cabbages in the garden: that method is too uncertain and besides does
-not lend itself to precise observation. As I have in hand the necessary
-materials, to wit, my collection of tubes swarming with the parasites
-newly hatched into the adult form, I will operate on the little table
-in my animals' laboratory. A jar with a capacity of about a litre
-(About 1 3/4 pints, or .22 gallon.--Translator's Note.) is placed on
-the table, with the bottom turned towards the window in the sun. I put
-into it a cabbage-leaf covered with caterpillars, sometimes fully
-developed, sometimes half-way, sometimes just out of the egg. A strip
-of honeyed paper will serve the Microgaster as a dining room, if the
-experiment is destined to take some time. Lastly, by the method of
-transfer which I described above, I send the inmates of one of my tubes
-into the apparatus. Once the jar is closed, there is nothing left to do
-but to let things take their course and to keep an assiduous watch, for
-days and weeks, if need be. Nothing worth remarking can escape me.
-
-The caterpillars graze placidly, heedless of their terrible attendants.
-If some giddy-pates in the turbulent swarm pass over the caterpillars'
-spines, these draw up their fore-part with a jerk and as suddenly lower
-it again; and that is all: the intruders forthwith decamp. Nor do the
-latter seem to contemplate any harm: they refresh themselves on the
-honey-smeared strip, they come and go tumultuously. Their short flights
-may land them, now in one place, now in another, on the browsing herd,
-but they pay no attention to it. What we see is casual meetings, not
-deliberate encounters.
-
-In vain I change the flock of caterpillars and vary their age; in vain
-I change the squad of parasites; in vain I follow events in the jar for
-long hours, morning and evening, both in a dim light and in the full
-glare of the sun: I succeed in seeing nothing, absolutely nothing, on
-the parasite's side, that resembles an attack. No matter what the
-ill-informed authors say--ill-informed because they had not the
-patience to see for themselves--the conclusion at which I arrive is
-positive: to inject the germs, the Microgaster never attacks the
-caterpillars.
-
-The invasion, therefore, is necessarily effected through the
-Butterfly's eggs themselves, as experiment will prove. My broad jar
-would tell against the inspection of the troop, kept at too great a
-distance by the glass enclosure, and I therefore select a tube an inch
-wide. I place in this a shred of cabbage-leaf, bearing a slab of eggs,
-as laid by the Butterfly. I next introduce the inmates of one of my
-spare vessels. A strip of paper smeared with honey accompanies the new
-arrivals.
-
-This happens early in July. Soon, the females are there, fussing about,
-sometimes to the extent of blackening the whole slab of yellow eggs.
-They inspect the treasure, flutter their wings and brush their
-hind-legs against each other, a sign of keen satisfaction. They sound
-the heap, probe the interstices with their antennae and tap the
-individual eggs with their palpi; then, this one here, that one there,
-they quickly apply the tip of their abdomen to the egg selected. Each
-time, we see a slender, horny prickle darting from the ventral surface,
-close to the end. This is the instrument that deposits the germ under
-the film of the egg; it is the inoculation-needle. The operation is
-performed calmly and methodically, even when several mothers are
-working at one and the same time. Where one has been, a second goes,
-followed by a third, a fourth and others yet, nor am I able definitely
-to see the end of the visits paid to the same egg. Each time, the
-needle enters and inserts a germ.
-
-It is impossible, in such a crowd, for the eye to follow the successive
-mothers who hasten to lay in each; but there is one quite practicable
-method by which we can estimate the number of germs introduced into a
-single egg, which is, later, to open the ravaged caterpillars and count
-the grubs which they contain. A less repugnant means is to number the
-little cocoons heaped up around each dead caterpillar. The total will
-tell us how many germs were injected, some by the same mother returning
-several times to the egg already treated, others by different mothers.
-Well, the number of these cocoons varies greatly. Generally, it
-fluctuates in the neighbourhood of twenty, but I have come across as
-many as sixty-five; and nothing tells me that this is the extreme
-limit. What hideous industry for the extermination of a Butterfly's
-progeny!
-
-I am fortunate at this moment in having a highly-cultured visitor,
-versed in the profundities of philosophic thought. I make way for him
-before the apparatus wherein the Microgaster is at work. For an hour
-and more, standing lens in hand, he, in his turn, looks and sees what I
-have just seen; he watches the layers who go from one egg to the other,
-make their choice, draw their slender lancet and prick what the stream
-of passers-by, one after the other, have already pricked. Thoughtful
-and a little uneasy, he puts down his lens at last. Never had he been
-vouchsafed so clear a glimpse as here, in my finger-wide tube, of the
-masterly brigandage that runs through all life down to that of the very
-smallest.
-
-
-INDEX.
-
-Ammophila.
-
-Andrena.
-
-Anoxia.
-
-Ant-lion.
-
-Anthidium.
-
-Anthophora personata.
-
-Anthrax.
-
-Apanteles, see Microgaster glomeratus.
-
-Arundo donax, the great reed.
-
-Audubon, on trapping Turkeys.
-
-Bats.
-
-Bell-ringing Toad.
-
-Bembex.
-
-Bird-catchers.
-
-Blackbirds, Corsican.
-
-Bluebottle.
-the laying of the eggs.
-hatching.
-a test.
-paper a protection against.
-the grubs.
-sand a protection against.
-
-Bower-bird.
-
-Brussels Sprouts, ancestry of.
-
-Buprestis.
-
-Burying-beetles: method of burial.
-appearance of the insect.
-manipulation of the corpse.
-cooperation of individuals.
-larvae of.
-attacked by vermin.
-the dismal end of.
-experiments.
-test conditions imposed.
-conditions of burial.
-nets of cordage cut through.
-ligatures severed.
-limitations of instinct.
-
-Cabbage, ancestry of.
-offspring.
-
-Cabbage Butterfly, her selection of suitable Cruciferae.
-eggs of.
-hatching of the eggs.
-
-Cabbage-caterpillar.
-eats egg-cases on emergence.
-employment of silk by.
-growth and moults.
-its voracity.
-an old charm against.
-the only true charm.
-movements of the caterpillar.
-its chrysalis.
-its deadly enemy.
-
-Calliphora vomitaria, see Bluebottle.
-
-Capricorn Beetle.
-the grub.
-its cell.
-the barricade.
-the pupa.
-metamorphosis and emergence.
-
-Cauliflower.
-
-Centauries.
-
-Cerambyx miles.
-
-Cerceris.
-
-Cetonia, or Rose-chafer.
-
-Chalicodoma.
-
-Chat, Black-eared.
-
-Cicada.
-the grasshopper's victim.
-
-Cicadella.
-
-Clairville on the Burying-beetle.
-
-Clothes-moth.
-
-Cockchafers.
-
-Cole-rape.
-
-Cordillac, philosophy of.
-
-Couch-grass.
-
-Cricket, Italian.
-Common Black.
-
-Cruciferae, the diet of Pieris brassicae.
-
-Dasypoda.
-
-Dermestes.
-
-Digger-wasps.
-
-Dragon-fly.
-
-Drilus maroccanus.
-
-Dung-beetles.
-
-Empusa.
-larva of.
-fore-limbs.
-strange head-dress.
-food of.
-how killed.
-metamorphosis of.
-curious position assumed in captivity.
-pacific nature of.
-
-Epeira, Angular, telegraph wire of.
-
-Epeira fasciator.
-appearance of.
-its web.
-nature of the thread.
-her station on the web.
-fatty unguent of.
-nature of the adhesive glue.
-hunting methods.
-treatment of prey.
-bite of.
-the alarm.
-the telegraph wire.
-
-Epeira, Silky.
-
-Ephippigera.
-
-Eucera.
-
-Eumenes.
-cells of different species.
-nest of E. pomiformis.
-prey found in nest of E. Amedei.
-sex of eggs known to insect.
-prey in nest of E. pomiformis.
-experiments on larvae.
-position of the egg.
-suspension of the larvae.
-the protective sheath.
-
-Flesh-fly, Grey.
-viviparous.
-maggots of.
-a test.
-her attacks on meat-safes.
-baffled by sand.
-
-Fly.
-
-Frog, burial of a.
-
-Froghopper.
-
-Geotrupes.
-
-Gledditsch on Burying-beetles.
-
-Glow-worm.
-diet of Snails.
-anaesthetises its prey.
-digestive juice secreted by.
-adhesive climbing appendage of.
-luminous apparatus of.
-regulation of light.
-light displayed by females.
-eyes of the male.
-pairing.
-eggs.
-luminosity of eggs.
-of larvae.
-
-Grasshopper, Green.
-the note of the.
-stridulating apparatus.
-habitat.
-food.
-mating habits.
-eggs.
-seminal capsule.
-
-Greenfinch.
-
-Halictus.
-
-Harmas.
-description of.
-
-Harmonica.
-
-Horn-beetle.
-
-Hornet.
-
-Hunting-wasp.
-
-Laboratory, the outdoor.
-
-Lacordaire on the Burying-beetle.
-
-Lamellicornis.
-
-Larini.
-
-Linnet, dead, preserved from flies by paper.
-
-Lizard, Eyed.
-
-Locust.
-the prey of the Epeira.
-
-Lycosa, Narbonne.
-its eyes.
-its burrow.
-the rampart.
-use of same.
-methods of catching prey.
-method of laying eggs.
-the egg-sac.
-experiments with.
-the hatching process.
-the young.
-experiments with.
-a problem of energy.
-
-Macrocera.
-
-Mantis, Praying.
-
-Mason-bees.
-cells used by Osmiae.
-
-Mason-wasps.
-
-Massagetae, customs of the.
-
-Megachiles.
-
-Melolontho fullo.
-
-Michelet.
-
-Microgaster glomeratus.
-the exterminator of the Cabbage Caterpillar.
-method of feeding.
-emergence from the host.
-cocoons.
-the adult.
-pairing.
-food.
-the eggs laid in the Butterfly's egg.
-
-Mole, burial of a.
-a supply of corpses obtained.
-
-Mouse, burial of a.
-
-National festival, the.
-
-Natterjack.
-
-Necrophorus, see Burying-beetles.
-
-Oryctes.
-
-Osmia.
-cells of different species.
-glass nests of Three-horned Osmia.
-distribution of sexes.
-optional determination of sex.
-
-Owl.
-Horned Owl.
-Common Owl.
-
-Oyster-plant.
-
-Pelopaeus.
-
-Perez, Professor.
-
-Philanthus apivorus.
-
-Phylloxera.
-
-Pieris brassicae.
-
-Pine Processionary.
-silken road of.
-nest.
-use of road.
-senses.
-nest.
-the processionary march.
-experiments.
-on a circular track.
-
-Pliny, on the Cabbage Caterpillar.
-
-Pompilus.
-
-Rose-chafer.
-
-Sacred Beetle.
-
-Saprini.
-
-Sarcophaga carnaria, see Flesh-fly.
-
-Scarabaeus.
-
-Scolia.
-
-Scops.
-
-Serin-finch.
-
-Sex, distribution, determination and permutations of, in the Osmia.
-
-Silpha.
-
-Sitaris.
-
-Snail-shell, Osmia's use of.
-
-Snail, the prey of the Glow-worm.
-
-Sphex.
-
-Sphex, White-banded.
-
-Spiders.
-apprised of prey by vibration.
-
-Staphylinus.
-
-Stizus.
-
-Swede.
-
-Tadpoles.
-
-Tarantula, Black-bellied, see Lycosa.
-
-Thistles.
-
-Thomisus.
-
-Toad, Bell-ringing.
-
-Tree-frogs.
-
-Tree Wasps.
-
-Turkeys, how trapped.
-
-Ventoux, Mount.
-
-Wasp, Common.
-
-Woodpecker.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wonders of Instinct, by J. H. Fabre
-
+
+
+
+
+Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer. HTML
+version by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE WONDERS OF INSTINCT
+
+CHAPTERS IN THE PSYCHOLOGY OF INSECTS
+
+
+BY
+
+J. H. FABRE
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+CHAPTER 1. THE HARMAS.
+
+CHAPTER 2. THE GREEN GRASSHOPPER.
+
+CHAPTER 3. THE EMPUSA.
+
+CHAPTER 4. THE CAPRICORN.
+
+CHAPTER 5. THE BURYING-BEETLES: THE BURIAL.
+
+CHAPTER 6. THE BURYING-BEETLES: EXPERIMENTS.
+
+CHAPTER 7. THE BLUEBOTTLE.
+
+CHAPTER 8. THE PINE-PROCESSIONARY.
+
+CHAPTER 9. THE SPIDERS.
+
+CHAPTER 10. THE BANDED EPEIRA.
+
+CHAPTER 11. THE EUMENES.
+
+CHAPTER 12. THE OSMIAE.
+
+CHAPTER 13. THE GLOW-WORM.
+
+CHAPTER 14. THE CABBAGE-CATERPILLAR.
+
+
+INDEX.
+
+
+Note:--Chapters 5 and 6 have been translated by Mr. Bernard Miall; the
+remainder by Mr. Alexander Teixeira de Mattos.
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS.
+
+
+THE HARMAS.
+1. The author and his two daughters in the lilac-walk.
+2. J.H. Fabre's house at Serignan.
+
+
+THE EMPUSA.
+
+
+INSECTS AT REST.
+Bees and wasps asleep, extended in space by the strength of their
+mandibles.
+
+
+THE LARVA OF THE GREAT CAPRICORN.
+1. The grub.
+2. The grub digging its galleries in the trunk of the oak.
+
+
+THE GREAT CAPRICORN: THE MALE AND THE FEMALE.
+
+
+EXPERIMENTS.
+
+EXPERIMENT 1. The mole is fixed fore and aft, with a lashing of raphia,
+to a light horizontal cross-bar resting on two forks. The Necrophori,
+after long tiring themselves in digging under the body, end by severing
+the bonds.
+
+EXPERIMENT 2. A dead mouse is placed on the branches of a tuft of
+thyme. By dint of jerking, shaking and tugging at the body, the
+Burying-beetles succeed in extricating it from the twigs and bringing
+it down.
+
+EXPERIMENT 3. With a ligament of raphia, the Mole is fixed by the hind
+feet to a twig planted vertically in the soil. The head and shoulders
+touch the ground. By digging under these, the Necrophori at the same
+time uproot the gibbet, which eventually falls, dragged over by the
+weight of its burden.
+
+EXPERIMENT 4. The stake is slanting; the Mole touches the ground, but
+at a point two inches from the base of the gibbet. The Burying-beetles
+begin by digging to no purpose under the body. They make no attempt to
+overturn the stake. In this experiment they obtain the Mole at last by
+employing the usual method, that is by gnawing the bond.
+
+
+THE BLUEBOTTLE LAYING HER EGGS IN THE SLIT OF A DEAD BIRD'S BEAK.
+
+
+THE LYCOSA LIFTING HER WHITE BAG OF EGGS TOWARDS THE SUN, TO ASSIST THE
+HATCHING.
+The Lycosa lying head downwards on the edge of her pit, holding in her
+hind-legs her white bag of eggs and lifting them towards the sun, to
+assist the hatching.
+
+
+THE BANDED EPEIRA INSCRIBING HER FLOURISH, AFTER FINISHING HER WEB.
+
+
+THE BANDED EPEIRA LETTING HERSELF DROP BY THE END OF HER THREAD.
+
+
+THE BANDED EPEIRA SWATHING HER CAPTURE.
+The web has given way in many places during the struggle.
+
+
+OSMIA-NESTS IN A BRAMBLE TWIG.
+
+
+OSMIA-NESTS INSIDE A REED.
+
+
+ARTIFICIAL HIVE INVENTED BY THE AUTHOR TO STUDY THE OSMIA'S LAYING.
+It consists of reed-stumps arranged Pan-pipe fashion.
+
+
+OLD NESTS USED BY THE OSMIA IN LAYING HER EGGS.
+
+1. Nest of the Mason-bee of the Shrubs.
+
+2. Osmia-grubs in empty shells of the Garden Snail.
+
+3. Nests of the Mason-bee of the Sheds.
+
+
+THE GLOW-WORM: a, male; b, female.
+
+
+THE CABBAGE CATERPILLAR: a, the caterpillars; b, the cocoons of their
+parasite, Microgaster glomeratus.
+
+
+
+
+THE WONDERS OF INSTINCT.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 1. THE HARMAS.
+
+This is what I wished for, hoc erat in votis: a bit of land, oh, not so
+very large, but fenced in, to avoid the drawbacks of a public way; an
+abandoned, barren, sun-scorched bit of land, favoured by thistles and
+by Wasps and Bees. Here, without fear of being troubled by the
+passers-by, I could consult the Ammophila and the Sphex (two species of
+Digger-or Hunting-wasps.--Translator's Note.) and engage in that
+difficult conversation whose questions and answers have experiment for
+their language; here, without distant expeditions that take up my time,
+without tiring rambles that strain my nerves, I could contrive my plans
+of attack, lay my ambushes and watch their effects at every hour of the
+day. Hoc erat in votis. Yes, this was my wish, my dream, always
+cherished, always vanishing into the mists of the future.
+
+And it is no easy matter to acquire a laboratory in the open fields,
+when harassed by a terrible anxiety about one's daily bread. For forty
+years have I fought, with steadfast courage, against the paltry plagues
+of life; and the long-wished-for laboratory has come at last. What it
+has cost me in perseverance and relentless work I will not try to say.
+It has come; and, with it--a more serious condition--perhaps a little
+leisure. I say perhaps, for my leg is still hampered with a few links
+of the convict's chain.
+
+The wish is realized. It is a little late, O! my pretty insects! I
+greatly fear that the peach is offered to me when I am beginning to
+have no teeth wherewith to eat it. Yes, it is a little late: the wide
+horizons of the outset have shrunk into a low and stifling canopy, more
+and more straitened day by day. Regretting nothing in the past, save
+those whom I have lost; regretting nothing, not even my first youth;
+hoping nothing either, I have reached the point at which, worn out by
+the experience of things, we ask ourselves if life be worth the living.
+
+Amid the ruins that surround me, one strip of wall remains standing,
+immovable upon its solid base: my passion for scientific truth. Is that
+enough, O! my busy insects, to enable me to add yet a few seemly pages
+to your history? Will my strength not cheat my good intentions? Why,
+indeed, did I forsake you so long?
+
+Friends have reproached me for it. Ah, tell them, tell those friends,
+who are yours as well as mine, tell them that it was not forgetfulness
+on my part, not weariness, nor neglect: I thought of you; I was
+convinced that the Cerceris' (A species of Digger-wasp.--Translator's
+Note.) cave had more fair secrets to reveal to us, that the chase of
+the Sphex held fresh surprises in store. But time failed me; I was
+alone, deserted, struggling against misfortune. Before philosophizing,
+one had to live. Tell them that, and they will pardon me.
+
+Others have reproached me with my style, which has not the solemnity,
+nay, better, the dryness of the schools. They fear lest a page that is
+read without fatigue should not always be the expression of the truth.
+Were I to take their word for it, we are profound only on condition of
+being obscure. Come here, one and all of you--you, the sting-bearers,
+and you, the wing-cased armour-clads--take up my defence and bear
+witness in my favour. Tell of the intimate terms on which I live with
+you, of the patience with which I observe you, of the care with which I
+record your actions. Your evidence is unanimous: yes, my pages, though
+they bristle not with hollow formulas nor learned smatterings, are the
+exact narrative of facts observed, neither more nor less; and whoso
+cares to question you in his turn will obtain the same replies.
+
+And then, my dear insects, if you cannot convince those good people,
+because you do not carry the weight of tedium, I, in my turn, will say
+to them:
+
+"You rip up the animal and I study it alive; you turn it into an object
+of horror and pity, whereas I cause it to be loved; you labour in a
+torture-chamber and dissecting-room, I make my observations under the
+blue sky, to the song of the Cicadae (The Cicada Cigale, an insect akin
+to the Grasshopper and found more particularly in the south of
+France.--Translator's Note.); you subject cell and protoplasm to
+chemical tests, I study instinct in its loftiest manifestations; you
+pry into death, I pry into life. And why should I not complete my
+thought: the boars have muddied the clear stream; natural history,
+youth's glorious study, has, by dint of cellular improvements, become a
+hateful and repulsive thing. Well, if I write for men of learning, for
+philosophers, who, one day, will try to some extent to unravel the
+tough problem of instinct, I write also, I write above all things, for
+the young, I want to make them love the natural history which you make
+them hate; and that is why, while keeping strictly to the domain of
+truth, I avoid your scientific prose, which too often, alas, seems
+borrowed from some Iroquois idiom!"
+
+But this is not my business for the moment: I want to speak of the bit
+of land long cherished in my plans to form a laboratory of living
+entomology, the bit of land which I have at last obtained in the
+solitude of a little village. It is a "harmas," the name given, in this
+district (The country round Serignan, in Provence.--Translator's
+Note.), to an untilled, pebbly expanse abandoned to the vegetation of
+the thyme. It is too poor to repay the work of the plough; but the
+Sheep passes there in spring, when it has chanced to rain and a little
+grass shoots up.
+
+My harmas, however, because of its modicum of red earth swamped by a
+huge mass of stones, has received a rough first attempt at cultivation:
+I am told that vines once grew here. And, in fact, when we dig the
+ground before planting a few trees, we turn up, here and there, remains
+of the precious stock, half carbonized by time. The three-pronged fork,
+therefore, the only implement of husbandry that can penetrate such a
+soil as this, has entered here; and I am sorry, for the primitive
+vegetation has disappeared. No more thyme, no more lavender, no more
+clumps of kermes-oak, the dwarf oak that forms forests across which we
+step by lengthening our stride a little. As these plants, especially
+the first two, might be of use to me by offering the Bees and Wasps a
+spoil to forage, I am compelled to reinstate them in the ground whence
+they were driven by the fork.
+
+What abounds without my mediation is the invaders of any soil that is
+first dug up and then left for a time to its own resources. We have, in
+the first rank, the couch-grass, that execrable weed which three years
+of stubborn warfare have not succeeded in exterminating. Next, in
+respect of number, come the centauries, grim-looking one and all,
+bristling with prickles or starry halberds. They are the
+yellow-flowered centaury, the mountain centaury, the star-thistle and
+the rough centaury: the first predominates. Here and there, amid their
+inextricable confusion, stands, like a chandelier with spreading orange
+flowers for lights, the fierce Spanish oyster-plant, whose spikes are
+strong as nails. Above it towers the Illyrian cotton-thistle, whose
+straight and solitary stalk soars to a height of three to six feet and
+ends in large pink tufts. Its armour hardly yields before that of the
+oyster-plant. Nor must we forget the lesser thistle-tribe, with, first
+of all, the prickly or "cruel" thistle, which is so well armed that the
+plant-collector knows not where to grasp it; next, the spear-thistle,
+with its ample foliage, ending each of its veins with a spear-head;
+lastly, the black knap-weed, which gathers itself into a spiky knot. In
+among these, in long lines armed with hooks, the shoots of the blue
+dewberry creep along the ground. To visit the prickly thicket when the
+Wasp goes foraging, you must wear boots that come to mid-leg or else
+resign yourself to a smarting in the calves. As long as the ground
+retains a few remnants of the vernal rains, this rude vegetation does
+not lack a certain charm, when the pyramids of the oyster-plant and the
+slender branches of the cotton-thistle rise above the wide carpet
+formed by the yellow-flowered centaury's saffron heads; but let the
+droughts of summer come and we see but a desolate waste, which the
+flame of a match would set ablaze from one end to the other. Such is,
+or rather was, when I took possession of it, the Eden of bliss where I
+mean to live henceforth alone with the insect. Forty years of desperate
+struggle have won it for me.
+
+Eden, I said; and, from the point of view that interests me, the
+expression is not out of place. This cursed ground, which no one would
+have had at a gift to sow with a pinch of turnip-seed, is an earthly
+paradise for the Bees and the Wasps. Its mighty growth of thistles and
+centauries draws them all to me from everywhere around. Never, in my
+insect-hunting memories, have I seen so large a population at a single
+spot; all the trades have made it their rallying-point. Here come
+hunters of every kind of game, builders in clay, weavers of cotton
+goods, collectors of pieces cut from a leaf or the petals of a flower,
+architects in paste-board, plasterers mixing mortar, carpenters boring
+wood, miners digging underground galleries, workers handling
+goldbeater's skin and many more.
+
+Who is this one? An Anthidium. (A Cotton-bee.--Translator's Note.) She
+scrapes the cobwebby stalk of the yellow-flowered centaury and gathers
+a ball of wadding which she carries off proudly in the tips of her
+mandibles. She will turn it, under ground, into cotton-felt satchels to
+hold the store of honey and the egg. And these others, so eager for
+plunder? They are Megachiles (Leaf-cutting Bees.--Translator's Note.),
+carrying under their bellies their black, white, or blood-red
+reaping-brushes. They will leave the thistles to visit the neighbouring
+shrubs and there cut from the leaves oval pieces which will be made
+into a fit receptacle to contain the harvest. And these, clad in black
+velvet? They are Chalicodomae (Mason-bees.--Translator's Note.), who
+work with cement and gravel. We could easily find their masonry on the
+stones in the harmas. And these, noisily buzzing with a sudden flight?
+They are the Anthophorae (a species of Wild Bees.--Translator's Note.),
+who live in the old walls and the sunny banks of the neighbourhood.
+
+Now come the Osmiae. One stacks her cells in the spiral staircase of an
+empty snail-shell; another, attacking the pith of a dry bit of bramble,
+obtains for her grubs a cylindrical lodging and divides it into floors
+by means of partition-walls; a third employs the natural channel of a
+cut reed; a fourth is a rent-free tenant of the vacant galleries of
+some Mason-bee. Here are the Macrocerae and the Eucerae, whose males
+are proudly horned; the Dasypodae, who carry an ample brush of bristles
+on their hind-legs for a reaping implement; the Andrenae, so manyfold
+in species; the slender-bellied Halicti. (Osmiae, Macrocerae, Eucerae,
+Dasypodae, Andrenae, and Halicti are all different species of Wild
+Bees.--Translator's Note.) I omit a host of others. If I tried to
+continue this record of the guests of my thistles, it would muster
+almost the whole of the honey-yielding tribe. A learned entomologist of
+Bordeaux, Professor Perez, to whom I submit the naming of my prizes,
+once asked me if I had any special means of hunting, to send him so
+many rarities and even novelties. I am not at all an experienced and
+still less a zealous hunter, for the insect interests me much more when
+engaged in its work than when stuck on a pin in a cabinet. The whole
+secret of my hunting is reduced to my dense nursery of thistles and
+centauries.
+
+By a most fortunate chance, with this populous family of
+honey-gatherers was allied the whole hunting tribe. The builders' men
+had distributed here and there, in the harmas, great mounds of sand and
+heaps of stones, with a view of running up some surrounding walls. The
+work dragged on slowly; and the materials found occupants from the
+first year. The Mason-bees had chosen the interstices between the
+stones as a dormitory where to pass the night in serried groups. The
+powerful Eyed Lizard, who, when close-pressed, attacks wide-mouthed
+both man and dog, had selected a cave wherein to lie in wait for the
+passing Scarab (A Dung-beetle known also as the Sacred
+Beetle.--Translator's Note.); the Black-eared Chat, garbed like a
+Dominican, white-frocked with black wings, sat on the top stone,
+singing his short rustic lay: his nest, with its sky-blue eggs, must be
+somewhere in the heap. The little Dominican disappeared with the loads
+of stones. I regret him: he would have been a charming neighbour. The
+Eyed Lizard I do not regret at all.
+
+The sand sheltered a different colony. Here, the Bembeces (A species of
+Digger-wasps.--Translator's Note.) were sweeping the threshold of their
+burrows, flinging a curve of dust behind them; the Languedocian Sphex
+was dragging her Ephippigera (A species of Green
+Grasshopper--Translator's Note.) by the antennae; a Stizus (A species
+of Hunting-wasp.--Translator's Note.) was storing her preserves of
+Cicadellae. (Froghoppers--Translator's Note.) To my sorrow, the masons
+ended by evicting the sporting tribe; but, should I ever wish to recall
+it, I have but to renew the mounds of sand: they will soon all be
+there.
+
+Hunters that have not disappeared, their homes being different, are the
+Ammophilae, whom I see fluttering, one in spring, the others in autumn,
+along the garden-walks and over the lawns, in search of a caterpillar;
+the Pompili (The Pompilus is a species of Hunting-wasp known also as
+the Ringed Calicurgus--Translator's Note.), who travel alertly, beating
+their wings and rummaging in every corner in quest of a Spider. The
+largest of them waylays the Narbonne Lycosa (Known also as the
+Black-bellied Tarantula--Translator's Note.), whose burrow is not
+infrequent in the harmas. This burrow is a vertical well, with a curb
+of fescue-grass intertwined with silk. You can see the eyes of the
+mighty Spider gleam at the bottom of the den like little diamonds, an
+object of terror to most. What a prey and what dangerous hunting for
+the Pompilus! And here, on a hot summer afternoon, is the Amazon-ant,
+who leaves her barrack-rooms in long battalions and marches far afield
+to hunt for slaves. We will follow her in her raids when we find time.
+Here again, around a heap of grasses turned to mould, are Scoliae
+(Large Hunting-wasps--Translator's Note.) an inch and a half long, who
+fly gracefully and dive into the heap, attracted by a rich prey, the
+grubs of Lamellicorns, Oryctes, and Cetoniae. (Different species of
+Beetles. The Cetonia is the Rose-chafer--Translator's Note.)
+
+What subjects for study! And there are more to come. The house was as
+utterly deserted as the ground. When man was gone and peace assured,
+the animal hastily seized on everything. The Warbler took up his abode
+in the lilac-shrubs; the Greenfinch settled in the thick shelter of the
+cypresses; the Sparrow carted rags and straw under every slate; the
+Serin-finch, whose downy nest is no bigger than half an apricot, came
+and chirped in the plane-tree tops; the Scops made a habit of uttering
+his monotonous, piping note here, of an evening; the bird of Pallas
+Athene, the Owl, came hurrying along to hoot and hiss.
+
+In front of the house is a large pond, fed by the aqueduct that
+supplies the village pumps with water. Here, from half a mile and more
+around, come the Frogs and Toads in the lovers' season. The Natterjack,
+sometimes as large as a plate, with a narrow stripe of yellow down his
+back, makes his appointments here to take his bath; when the evening
+twilight falls, we see hopping along the edge the Midwife Toad, the
+male, who carries a cluster of eggs, the size of peppercorns, wrapped
+round his hind-legs: the genial paterfamilias has brought his precious
+packet from afar, to leave it in the water and afterwards retire under
+some flat stone, whence he will emit a sound like a tinkling bell.
+Lastly, when not croaking amid the foliage, the Tree-frogs indulge in
+the most graceful dives. And so, in May, as soon as it is dark, the
+pond becomes a deafening orchestra: it is impossible to talk at table,
+impossible to sleep. We had to remedy this by means perhaps a little
+too rigorous. What could we do? He who tries to sleep and cannot needs
+become ruthless.
+
+Bolder still, the Wasp has taken possession of the dwelling-house. On
+my door-sill, in a soil of rubbish, nestles the White-banded Sphex:
+when I go indoors, I must be careful not to damage her burrows, not to
+tread upon the miner absorbed in her work. It is quite a quarter of a
+century since I last saw the saucy Cricket-hunter. When I made her
+acquaintance, I used to visit her at a few miles' distance: each time,
+it meant an expedition under the blazing August sun. To-day I find her
+at my door; we are intimate neighbours. The embrasure of the closed
+window provides an apartment of a mild temperature for the Pelopaeus.
+(A species of Mason-wasp--Translator's Note.) The earth-built nest is
+fixed against the freestone wall. To enter her home, the
+Spider-huntress uses a little hole left open by accident in the
+shutters. On the mouldings of the Venetian blinds, a few stray
+Mason-bees build their group of cells; inside the outer shutters, left
+ajar, a Eumenes (Another Mason-wasp--Translator's Note.) constructs her
+little earthen dome, surmounted by a short, bell-mouthed neck. The
+Common Wasp and the Polistes (A Wasp that builds her nest in
+trees--Translator's Note.) are my dinner-guests: they visit my table to
+see if the grapes served are as ripe as they look.
+
+Here surely--and the list is far from complete--is a company both
+numerous and select, whose conversation will not fail to charm my
+solitude, if I succeed in drawing it out, my dear beasts of former
+days, my old friends, and others, more recent acquaintances, all are
+here, hunting, foraging, building in close proximity. Besides, should
+we wish to vary the scene of observation, the mountain (Mont Ventoux,
+an outlying summit of the Alps, 6,270 feet high.--Translator's Note.)
+is but a few hundred steps away, with its tangle of arbutus, rock-roses
+and arborescent heather; with its sandy spaces dear to the Bembeces;
+with its marly <DW72>s exploited by different Wasps and Bees. And that
+is why, foreseeing these riches, I have abandoned the town for the
+village and come to Serignan to weed my turnips and water my lettuces.
+
+Laboratories are being founded at great expense, on our Atlantic and
+Mediterranean coasts, where people cut up small sea-animals, of but
+meagre interest to us; they spend a fortune on powerful microscopes,
+delicate dissecting-instruments, engines of capture, boats,
+fishing-crews, aquariums, to find out how the yolk of an Annelid's (A
+red-blooded Worm.--Translator's Note.) egg is constructed, a question
+whereof I have never yet been able to grasp the full importance; and
+they scorn the little land-animal, which lives in constant touch with
+us, which provides universal psychology with documents of inestimable
+value, which too often threatens the public wealth by destroying our
+crops. When shall we have an entomological laboratory for the study not
+of the dead insect, steeped in alcohol, but of the living insect; a
+laboratory having for its object the instinct, the habits, the manner
+of living, the work, the struggles, the propagation of that little
+world with which agriculture and philosophy have most seriously to
+reckon? To know thoroughly the history of the destroyer of our vines
+might perhaps be more important than to know how this or that
+nerve-fibre of a Cirriped ends (Cirripeds are sea-animals with
+hair-like legs, including the Barnacles and Acorn-shells.--Translator's
+Note.); to establish by experiment the line of demarcation between
+intellect and instinct; to prove, by comparing facts in the zoological
+progression, whether human reason be an irreducible faculty or not: all
+this ought surely to take precedence of the number of joints in a
+Crustacean's antenna. These enormous questions would need an army of
+workers; and we have not one. The fashion is all for the Mollusc and
+the Zoophyte. (Zoophytes are plant-like sea-animals, including
+Star-fishes, Jelly-fishes, Sea-anemones, and Sponges.--Translator's
+Note.) The depths of the sea are explored with many drag-nets; the soil
+which we tread is consistently disregarded. While waiting for the
+fashion to change, I open my harmas laboratory of living entomology;
+and this laboratory shall not cost the ratepayers one farthing.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 2. THE GREEN GRASSHOPPER.
+
+We are in the middle of July. The astronomical dog-days are just
+beginning; but in reality the torrid season has anticipated the
+calendar and for some weeks past the heat has been overpowering.
+
+This evening in the village they are celebrating the National Festival.
+(The 14th of July, the anniversary of the fall of the
+Bastille.--Translator's Note.) While the little boys and girls are
+hopping round a bonfire whose gleams are reflected upon the
+church-steeple, while the drum is pounded to mark the ascent of each
+rocket, I am sitting alone in a dark corner, in the comparative
+coolness that prevails at nine o'clock, harking to the concert of the
+festival of the fields, the festival of the harvest, grander by far
+than that which, at this moment, is being celebrated in the village
+square with gunpowder, lighted torches, Chinese lanterns and, above
+all, strong drink. It has the simplicity of beauty and the repose of
+strength.
+
+It is late; and the Cicadae are silent. Glutted with light and heat,
+they have indulged in symphonies all the livelong day. The advent of
+the night means rest for them, but a rest frequently disturbed. In the
+dense branches of the plane-trees a sudden sound rings out like a cry
+of anguish, strident and short. It is the desperate wail of the Cicada,
+surprised in his quietude by the Green Grasshopper, that ardent
+nocturnal huntress, who springs upon him, grips him in the side, opens
+and ransacks his abdomen. An orgy of music, followed by butchery.
+
+I have never seen and never shall see that supreme expression of our
+national revelry, the military review at Longchamp; nor do I much
+regret it. The newspapers tell me as much about it as I want to know.
+They give me a sketch of the site. I see, installed here and there amid
+the trees, the ominous Red Cross, with the legend, "Military Ambulance;
+Civil Ambulance." There will be bones broken, apparently; cases of
+sunstroke; regrettable deaths, perhaps. It is all provided for and all
+in the programme.
+
+Even here, in my village, usually so peaceable, the festival will not
+end, I am ready to wager, without the exchange of a few blows, that
+compulsory seasoning of a day of merry-making. No pleasure, it appears,
+can be fully relished without an added condiment of pain.
+
+Let us listen and meditate far from the tumult. While the disembowelled
+Cicada utters his protest, the festival up there in the plane-trees is
+continued with a change of orchestra. It is now the time of the
+nocturnal performers. Hard by the place of slaughter, in the green
+bushes, a delicate ear perceives the hum of the Grasshoppers. It is the
+sort of noise that a spinning-wheel makes, a very unobtrusive sound, a
+vague rustle of dry membranes rubbed together. Above this dull bass
+there rises, at intervals, a hurried, very shrill, almost metallic
+clicking. There you have the air and the recitative, intersected by
+pauses. The rest is the accompaniment.
+
+Despite the assistance of a bass, it is a poor concert, very poor
+indeed, though there are about ten executants in my immediate vicinity.
+The tone lacks intensity. My old tympanum is not always capable of
+perceiving these subtleties of sound. The little that reaches me is
+extremely sweet and most appropriate to the calm of twilight. Just a
+little more breadth in your bow-stroke, my dear Green Grasshopper, and
+your technique would be better than the hoarse Cicada's, whose name and
+reputation you have been made to usurp in the countries of the north.
+
+Still, you will never equal your neighbour, the little bell-ringing
+Toad, who goes tinkling all round, at the foot of the plane-trees,
+while you click up above. He is the smallest of my batrachian folk and
+the most venturesome in his expeditions.
+
+How often, at nightfall, by the last glimmers of daylight, have I not
+come upon him as I wandered through my garden, hunting for ideas!
+Something runs away, rolling over and over in front of me. Is it a dead
+leaf blown along by the wind? No, it is the pretty little Toad
+disturbed in the midst of his pilgrimage. He hurriedly takes shelter
+under a stone, a clod of earth, a tuft of grass, recovers from his
+excitement and loses no time in picking up his liquid note.
+
+On this evening of national rejoicing, there are nearly a dozen of him
+tinkling against one another around me. Most of them are crouching
+among the rows of flower-pots that form a sort of lobby outside my
+house. Each has his own note, always the same, lower in one case,
+higher in another, a short, clear note, melodious and of exquisite
+purity.
+
+With their slow, rhythmical cadence, they seem to be intoning litanies.
+"Cluck," says one; "click," responds another, on a finer note; "clock,"
+adds a third, the tenor of the band. And this is repeated indefinitely,
+like the bells of the village pealing on a holiday: "cluck, click,
+clock; cluck, click, clock!"
+
+The batrachian choristers remind me of a certain harmonica which I used
+to covet when my six-year-old ear began to awaken to the magic of
+sounds. It consisted of a series of strips of glass of unequal length,
+hung on two stretched tapes. A cork fixed to a wire served as a hammer.
+Imagine an unskilled hand striking at random on this key-board, with a
+sudden clash of octaves, dissonances and topsy-turvy chords; and you
+will have a pretty clear idea of the Toads' litany.
+
+As a song, this litany has neither head nor tail to it; as a collection
+of pure sounds, it is delicious. This is the case with all the music in
+nature's concerts. Our ear discovers superb notes in it and then
+becomes refined and acquires, outside the realities of sound, that
+sense of order which is the first condition of beauty.
+
+Now this sweet ringing of bells between hiding-place and hiding-place
+is the matrimonial oratorio, the discreet summons which every Jack
+issues to his Jill. The sequel to the concert may be guessed without
+further enquiry; but what it would be impossible to foresee is the
+strange finale of the wedding. Behold the father, in this case a real
+paterfamilias, in the noblest sense of the word, coming out of his
+retreat one day in an unrecognizable state. He is carrying the future,
+tight-packed around his hind-legs; he is changing houses laden with a
+cluster of eggs the size of peppercorns. His calves are girt, his
+thighs are sheathed with the bulky burden; and it covers his back like
+a beggar's wallet, completely deforming him.
+
+Whither is he going, dragging himself along, incapable of jumping,
+thanks to the weight of his load? He is going, the fond parent, where
+the mother refuses to go; he is on his way to the nearest pond, whose
+warm waters are indispensable to the tadpoles' hatching and existence.
+When the eggs are nicely ripened around his legs under the humid
+shelter of a stone, he braves the damp and the daylight, he the
+passionate lover of dry land and darkness; he advances by short stages,
+his lungs congested with fatigue. The pond is far away, perhaps; no
+matter: the plucky pilgrim will find it.
+
+He's there. Without delay, he dives, despite his profound antipathy to
+bathing; and the cluster of eggs is instantly removed by the legs
+rubbing against each other. The eggs are now in their element; and the
+rest will be accomplished of itself. Having fulfilled his obligation to
+go right under, the father hastens to return to his well-sheltered
+home. He is scarcely out of sight before the little black tadpoles are
+hatched and playing about. They were but waiting for the contact of the
+water in order to burst their shells.
+
+Among the singers in the July gloaming, one alone, were he able to vary
+his notes, could vie with the Toad's harmonious bells. This is the
+little Scops-owl, that comely nocturnal bird of prey, with the round
+gold eyes. He sports on his forehead two small feathered horns which
+have won for him in the district the name of Machoto banarudo, the
+Horned Owl. His song, which is rich enough to fill by itself the still
+night air, is of a nerve-shattering monotony. With imperturbable and
+measured regularity, for hours on end, "kew, kew," the bird spits out
+its cantata to the moon.
+
+One of them has arrived at this moment, driven from the plane-trees in
+the square by the din of the rejoicings, to demand my hospitality. I
+can hear him in the top of a cypress near by. From up there, dominating
+the lyrical assembly, at regular intervals he cuts into the vague
+orchestration of the Grasshoppers and the Toads.
+
+His soft note is contrasted, intermittently, with a sort of Cat's mew,
+coming from another spot. This is the call of the Common Owl, the
+meditative bird of Minerva. After hiding all day in the seclusion of a
+hollow olive-tree, he started on his wanderings when the shades of
+evening began to fall. Swinging along with a sinuous flight, he came
+from somewhere in the neighbourhood to the pines in my enclosure,
+whence he mingles his harsh mewing, slightly softened by distance, with
+the general concert.
+
+The Green Grasshopper's clicking is too faint to be clearly perceived
+amidst these clamourers; all that reaches me is the least ripple, just
+noticeable when there is a moment's silence. He possesses as his
+apparatus of sound only a modest drum and scraper, whereas they, more
+highly privileged, have their bellows, the lungs, which send forth a
+column of vibrating air. There is no comparison possible. Let us return
+to the insects.
+
+One of these, though inferior in size and no less sparingly equipped,
+greatly surpasses the Grasshopper in nocturnal rhapsodies. I speak of
+the pale and slender Italian Cricket (Oecanthus pellucens, Scop.), who
+is so puny that you dare not take him up for fear of crushing him. He
+makes music everywhere among the rosemary-bushes, while the Glow-worms
+light up their blue lamps to complete the revels. The delicate
+instrumentalist consists chiefly of a pair of large wings, thin and
+gleaming as strips of mica. Thanks to these dry sails, he fiddles away
+with an intensity capable of drowning the Toads' fugue. His performance
+suggests, but with more brilliancy, more tremolo in the execution, the
+song of the Common Black Cricket. Indeed the mistake would certainly be
+made by any one who did not know that, by the time the very hot weather
+comes, the true Cricket, the chorister of spring, has disappeared. His
+pleasant violin has been succeeded by another more pleasant still and
+worthy of special study. We shall return to him at an opportune moment.
+
+These then, limiting ourselves to select specimens, are the principal
+participants in this musical evening: the Scops-owl, with his
+languorous solos; the Toad, that tinkler of sonatas; the Italian
+Cricket, who scrapes the first string of a violin; and the Green
+Grasshopper, who seems to beat a tiny steel triangle.
+
+We are celebrating to-day, with greater uproar than conviction, the new
+era, dating politically from the fall of the Bastille; they, with
+glorious indifference to human things, are celebrating the festival of
+the sun, singing the happiness of existence, sounding the loud hosanna
+of the July heats.
+
+What care they for man and his fickle rejoicings! For whom or for what
+will our squibs be spluttering a few years hence? Far-seeing indeed
+would he be who could answer the question. Fashions change and bring us
+the unexpected. The time-serving rocket spreads its sheaf of sparks for
+the public enemy of yesterday, who has become the idol of to-day.
+Tomorrow it will go up for somebody else.
+
+In a century or two, will any one, outside the historians, give a
+thought to the taking of the Bastille? It is very doubtful. We shall
+have other joys and also other cares.
+
+Let us look a little farther ahead. A day will come, so everything
+seems to tell us, when, after making progress upon progress, man will
+succumb, destroyed by the excess of what he calls civilization. Too
+eager to play the god, he cannot hope for the animal's placid
+longevity; he will have disappeared when the little Toad is still
+saying his litany, in company with the Grasshopper, the Scops-owl and
+the others. They were singing on this planet before us; they will sing
+after us, celebrating what can never change, the fiery glory of the
+sun.
+
+I will dwell no longer on this festival and will become once more the
+naturalist, anxious to obtain information concerning the private life
+of the insect. The Green Grasshopper (Locusta viridissima, Lin.) does
+not appear to be common in my neighbourhood. Last year, intending to
+make a study of this insect and finding my efforts to hunt it
+fruitless, I was obliged to have recourse to the good offices of a
+forest-ranger, who sent me a pair of couples from the Lagarde plateau,
+that bleak district where the beech-tree begins its escalade of the
+Ventoux.
+
+Now and then freakish fortune takes it into her head to smile upon the
+persevering. What was not to be found last year has become almost
+common this summer. Without leaving my narrow enclosure, I obtain as
+many Grasshoppers as I could wish. I hear them rustling at night in the
+green thickets. Let us make the most of the windfall, which perhaps
+will not occur again.
+
+In the month of June my treasures are installed, in a sufficient number
+of couples, under a wire cover standing on a bed of sand in an earthen
+pan. It is indeed a magnificent insect, pale-green all over, with two
+whitish stripes running down its sides. Its imposing size, its slim
+proportions and its great gauze wings make it the most elegant of our
+Locustidae. I am enraptured with my captives. What will they teach me?
+We shall see. For the moment, we must feed them.
+
+I offer the prisoners a leaf of lettuce. They bite into it, certainly,
+but very sparingly and with a scornful tooth. It soon becomes plain
+that I am dealing with half-hearted vegetarians. They want something
+else: they are beasts of prey, apparently. But what manner of prey? A
+lucky chance taught me.
+
+At break of day I was pacing up and down outside my door, when
+something fell from the nearest plane-tree with a shrill grating sound.
+I ran up and saw a Grasshopper gutting the belly of a struggling
+Cicada. In vain the victim buzzed and waved his limbs: the other did
+not let go, dipping her head right into the entrails and rooting them
+out by small mouthfuls.
+
+I knew what I wanted to know: the attack had taken place up above,
+early in the morning, while the Cicada was asleep; and the plunging of
+the poor wretch, dissected alive, had made assailant and assailed fall
+in a bundle to the ground. Since then I have repeatedly had occasion to
+witness similar carnage.
+
+I have even seen the Grasshopper--the height of audacity, this--dart in
+pursuit of a Cicada in mad flight. Even so does the Sparrow-hawk pursue
+the Swallow in the sky. But the bird of prey here is inferior to the
+insect. It attacks a weaker than itself. The Grasshopper, on the other
+hand, assaults a colossus, much larger than herself and stronger; and
+nevertheless the result of the unequal fight is not in doubt. The
+Grasshopper rarely fails with the sharp pliers of her powerful jaws to
+disembowel her capture, which, being unprovided with weapons, confines
+itself to crying out and kicking.
+
+The main thing is to retain one's hold of the prize, which is not
+difficult in somnolent darkness. Any Cicada encountered by the fierce
+Locustid on her nocturnal rounds is bound to die a lamentable death.
+This explains those sudden agonized notes which grate through the woods
+at late, unseasonable hours, when the cymbals have long been silent.
+The murderess in her suit of apple-green has pounced on some sleeping
+Cicada.
+
+My boarders' menu is settled: I will feed them on Cicadae. They take
+such a liking to this fare that, in two or three weeks, the floor of
+the cage is a knacker's yard strewn with heads and empty thoraces, with
+torn-off wings and disjointed legs. The belly alone disappears almost
+entirely. This is the tit-bit, not very substantial, but extremely
+tasty, it would seem. Here, in fact, in the insect's crop, the syrup is
+accumulated, the sugary sap which the Cicada's gimlet taps from the
+tender bark. Is it because of this dainty that the prey's abdomen is
+preferred to any other morsel? It is quite possible.
+
+I do, in fact, with a view to varying the diet, decide to serve up some
+very sweet fruits, slices of pear, grape-bits, bits of melon. All this
+meets with delighted appreciation. The Green Grasshopper resembles the
+English: she dotes on underdone meat seasoned with jelly. This perhaps
+is why, on catching the Cicada, she first rips up his paunch, which
+supplies a mixture of flesh and preserves.
+
+To eat Cicadae and sugar is not possible in every part of the country.
+In the north, where she abounds, the Green Grasshopper would not find
+the dish which attracts her so strongly here. She must have other
+resources. To convince myself of this, I give her Anoxiae (A. pilosa,
+Fab.), the summer equivalent of the spring Cockchafer. The Beetle is
+accepted without hesitation. Nothing is left of him but the wing-cases,
+head and legs. The result is the same with the magnificent plump Pine
+Cockchafer (Melolontha fullo, Lin.), a sumptuous morsel which I find
+next day eviscerated by my gang of knackers.
+
+These examples teach us enough. They tell us that the Grasshopper is an
+inveterate consumer of insects, especially of those which are not
+protected by too hard a cuirass; they are evidence of tastes which are
+highly carnivorous, but not exclusively so, like those of the Praying
+Mantis, who refuses everything except game. The butcher of the Cicadae
+is able to modify an excessively heating diet with vegetable fare.
+After meat and blood, sugary fruit-pulp; sometimes even, for lack of
+anything better, a little green stuff.
+
+Nevertheless, cannibalism is prevalent. True, I never witness in my
+Grasshopper-cages the savagery which is so common in the Praying
+Mantis, who harpoons her rivals and devours her lovers; but, if some
+weakling succumb, the survivors hardly ever fail to profit by his
+carcass as they would in the case of any ordinary prey. With no
+scarcity of provisions as an excuse, they feast upon their defunct
+companion. For the rest, all the sabre-bearing clan display, in varying
+degrees, a propensity for filling their bellies with their maimed
+comrades.
+
+In other respects, the Grasshoppers live together very peacefully in my
+cages. No serious strife ever takes place among them, nothing beyond a
+little rivalry in the matter of food. I hand in a piece of pear. A
+Grasshopper alights on it at once. Jealously she kicks away any one
+trying to bite at the delicious morsel. Selfishness reigns everywhere.
+When she has eaten her fill, she makes way for another, who in her turn
+becomes intolerant. One after the other, all the inmates of the
+menagerie come and refresh themselves. After cramming their crops, they
+scratch the soles of their feet a little with their mandibles, polish
+up their forehead and eyes with a leg moistened with spittle and then,
+hanging to the trellis-work or lying on the sand in a posture of
+contemplation, blissfully they digest and slumber most of the day,
+especially during the hottest part of it.
+
+It is in the evening, after sunset, that the troop becomes lively. By
+nine o'clock the animation is at its height. With sudden rushes they
+clamber to the top of the dome, to descend as hurriedly and climb up
+once more. They come and go tumultuously, run and hop around the
+circular track and, without stopping, nibble at the good things on the
+way.
+
+The males are stridulating by themselves, here and there, teasing the
+passing fair with their antennae. The future mothers stroll about
+gravely, with their sabre half-raised. The agitation and feverish
+excitement means that the great business of pairing is at hand. The
+fact will escape no practised eye.
+
+It is also what I particularly wish to observe. My wish is satisfied,
+but not fully, for the late hours at which events take place did not
+allow me to witness the final act of the wedding. It is late at night
+or early in the morning that things happen.
+
+The little that I see is confined to interminable preludes. Standing
+face to face, with foreheads almost touching, the lovers feel and sound
+each other for a long time with their limp antennae. They suggest two
+fencers crossing and recrossing harmless foils. From time to time, the
+male stridulates a little, gives a few short strokes of the bow and
+then falls silent, feeling perhaps too much overcome to continue.
+Eleven o'clock strikes; and the declaration is not yet over. Very
+regretfully, but conquered by sleepiness, I quit the couple.
+
+Next morning, early, the female carries, hanging at the bottom of her
+ovipositor, a queer bladder-like arrangement, an opaline capsule, the
+size of a large pea and roughly subdivided into a small number of
+egg-shaped vesicles. When the insect walks, the thing scrapes along the
+ground and becomes dirty with sticky grains of sand. The Grasshopper
+then makes a banquet off this fertilizing capsule, drains it slowly of
+its contents, and devours it bit by bit; for a long time she chews and
+rechews the gummy morsel and ends by swallowing it all down. In less
+than half a day, the milky burden has disappeared, consumed with zest
+down to the last atom.
+
+This inconceivable banquet must be imported, one would think, from
+another planet, so far removed is it from earthly habits. What a
+singular race are the Locustidae, one of the oldest in the animal
+kingdom on dry land and, like the Scolopendra and the Cephalopod,
+acting as a belated representative of the manners of antiquity!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 3. THE EMPUSA.
+
+The sea, life's first foster-mother, still preserves in her depths many
+of those singular and incongruous shapes which were the earliest
+attempts of the animal kingdom; the land, less fruitful, but with more
+capacity for progress, has almost wholly lost the strange forms of
+other days. The few that remain belong especially to the series of
+primitive insects, insects exceedingly limited in their industrial
+powers and subject to very summary metamorphoses, if to any at all. In
+my district, in the front rank of those entomological anomalies which
+remind us of the denizens of the old coal-forests, stand the Mantidae,
+including the Praying Mantis, so curious in habits and structure. Here
+also is the Empusa (E. pauperata, Latr.), the subject of this chapter.
+
+Her larva is certainly the strangest creature among the terrestrial
+fauna of Provence: a slim, swaying thing of so fantastic an appearance
+that uninitiated fingers dare not lay hold of it. The children of my
+neighbourhood, impressed by its startling shape, call it "the
+Devilkin." In their imaginations, the queer little creature savours of
+witchcraft. One comes across it, though always sparsely, in spring, up
+to May; in autumn; and sometimes in winter, if the sun be strong. The
+tough grasses of the waste-lands, the stunted bushes which catch the
+sun and are sheltered from the wind by a few heaps of stones are the
+chilly Empusa's favourite abode.
+
+Let us give a rapid sketch of her. The abdomen, which always curls up
+so as to join the back, spreads paddle wise and twists into a crook.
+Pointed scales, a sort of foliaceous expansions arranged in three rows,
+cover the lower surface, which becomes the upper surface because of the
+crook aforesaid. The scaly crook is propped on four long, thin stilts,
+on four legs armed with knee-pieces, that is to say, carrying at the
+end of the thigh, where it joins the shin, a curved, projecting blade
+not unlike that of a cleaver.
+
+Above this base, this four-legged stool, rises, at a sudden angle, the
+stiff corselet, disproportionately long and almost perpendicular. The
+end of this bust, round and slender as a straw, carries the
+hunting-trap, the grappling limbs, copied from those of the Mantis.
+They consist of a terminal harpoon, sharper than a needle, and a cruel
+vice, with the jaws toothed like a saw. The jaw formed by the arm
+proper is hollowed into a groove and carries on either side five long
+spikes, with smaller indentations in between. The jaw formed by the
+forearm is similarly furrowed, but its double saw, which fits into the
+groove of the upper arm when at rest, is formed of finer, closer and
+more regular teeth. The magnifying-glass reveals a score of equal
+points in each row. The machine only lacks size to be a fearful
+implement of torture.
+
+The head is in keeping with this arsenal. What a queer-shaped head it
+is! A pointed face, with walrus moustaches furnished by the palpi;
+large goggle eyes; between them, a dirk, a halberd blade; and, on the
+forehead a mad, unheard of thing: a sort of tall mitre, an extravagant
+head-dress that juts forward, spreading right and left into peaked
+wings and cleft along the top. What does the Devilkin want with that
+monstrous pointed cap, than which no wise man of the East, no
+astrologer of old ever wore a more splendiferous? This we shall learn
+when we see her out hunting.
+
+The dress is commonplace; grey tints predominate. Towards the end of
+the larval period, after a few moultings, it begins to give a glimpse
+of the adult's richer livery and becomes striped, still very faintly,
+with pale-green, white and pink. Already the two sexes are
+distinguished by their antennae. Those of the future mothers are
+thread-like; those of the future males are distended into a spindle at
+the lower half, forming a case or sheath whence graceful plumes will
+spring at a later date.
+
+Behold the creature, worthy of a Callot's fantastic pencil. (Jacques
+Callot (1592-1635), the French engraver and painter, famed for the
+grotesque nature of his subjects.--Translator's Note.) If you come
+across it in the bramble-bushes, it sways upon its four stilts, it wags
+its head, it looks at you with a knowing air, it twists its mitre round
+and peers over its shoulder. You seem to read mischief in its pointed
+face. You try to take hold of it. The imposing attitude ceases
+forthwith, the raised corselet is lowered and the creature makes off
+with mighty strides, helping itself along with its fighting-limbs,
+which clutch the twigs. The flight need not last long, if you have a
+practised eye. The Empusa is captured, put into a screw of paper, which
+will save her frail limbs from sprains, and lastly penned in a
+wire-gauze cage. In this way, in October, I obtain a flock sufficient
+for my purpose.
+
+How to feed them? My Devilkins are very little; they are a month or two
+old at most. I give them Locusts suited to their size, the smallest
+that I can find. They refuse them. Nay more, they are frightened of
+them. Should a thoughtless Locust meekly approach one of the Empusae,
+suspended by her four hind-legs to the trellised dome, the intruder
+meets with a bad reception. The pointed mitre is lowered; and an angry
+thrust sends him rolling. We have it: the wizard's cap is a defensive
+weapon, a protective crest. The Ram charges with his forehead, the
+Empusa butts with her mitre.
+
+But this does not mean dinner. I serve up the House-fly, alive. She is
+accepted, without hesitation. The moment that the Fly comes within
+reach, the watchful Devilkin turns her head, bends the stalk of her
+corselet slantwise and, flinging out her fore-limb, harpoons the Fly
+and grips her between her two saws. No Cat pouncing upon a Mouse could
+be quicker.
+
+The game, however small, is enough for a meal. It is enough for the
+whole day, often for several days. This is my first surprise: the
+extreme abstemiousness of these fiercely-armed insects. I was prepared
+for ogres: I find ascetics satisfied with a meagre collation at rare
+intervals. A Fly fills their belly for twenty-four hours at least.
+
+Thus passes the late autumn: the Empusae, more and more temperate from
+day to day, hang motionless from the wire gauze. Their natural
+abstinence is my best ally, for Flies grow scarce; and a time comes
+when I should be hard put to it to keep the menageries supplied with
+provisions.
+
+During the three winter months, nothing stirs. From time to time, on
+fine days, I expose the cage to the sun's rays, in the window. Under
+the influence of this heat-bath, the captives stretch their legs a
+little, sway from side to side, make up their minds to move about, but
+without displaying any awakening appetite. The rare Midges that fall to
+my assiduous efforts do not appear to tempt them. It is a rule for them
+to spend the cold season in a state of complete abstinence.
+
+My cages tell me what must happen outside, during the winter. Ensconced
+in the crannies of the rockwork, in the sunniest places, the young
+Empusae wait, in a state of torpor, for the return of the hot weather.
+Notwithstanding the shelter of a heap of stones, there must be painful
+moments when the frost is prolonged and the snow penetrates little by
+little into the best-protected crevices. No matter: hardier than they
+look, the refugees escape the dangers of the winter season. Sometimes,
+when the sun is strong, they venture out of their hiding-place and come
+to see if spring be nigh.
+
+Spring comes. We are in March. My prisoners bestir themselves, change
+their skin. They need victuals. My catering difficulties recommence.
+The House-fly, so easy to catch, is lacking in these days. I fall back
+upon earlier Diptera: Eristales, or Drone-flies. The Empusa refuses
+them. They are too big for her and can offer too strenuous a
+resistance. She wards off their approach with blows of her mitre.
+
+A few tender morsels, in the shape of very young Grasshoppers, are
+readily accepted. Unfortunately, such windfalls do not often find their
+way into my sweeping-net. Abstinence becomes obligatory until the
+arrival of the first Butterflies. Henceforth, Pieris brassicae, the
+White Cabbage Butterfly, will contribute the greater portion of the
+victuals.
+
+Let loose in the wire cage, the Pieris is regarded as excellent game.
+The Empusa lies in wait for her, seizes her, but releases her at once,
+lacking the strength to overpower her. The Butterfly's great wings,
+beating the air, give her shock after shock and compel her to let go. I
+come to the weakling's assistance and cut the wings of her prey with my
+scissors. The maimed ones, still full of life, clamber up the
+trellis-work and are forthwith grabbed by the Empusae, who, in no way
+frightened by their protests, crunch them up. The dish is to their
+taste and, moreover, plentiful, so much so that there are always some
+despised remnants.
+
+The head only and the upper portion of the breast are devoured: the
+rest--the plump abdomen, the best part of the thorax, the legs and
+lastly, of course, the wing-stumps--is flung aside untouched. Does this
+mean that the tenderest and most succulent morsels are chosen? No, for
+the belly is certainly more juicy; and the Empusa refuses it, though
+she eats up her House-fly to the last particle. It is a strategy of
+war. I am again in the presence of a neck-specialist as expert as the
+Mantis herself in the art of swiftly slaying a victim that struggles
+and, in struggling, spoils the meal.
+
+Once warned, I soon perceive that the game, be it Fly, Locust,
+Grasshopper, or Butterfly, is always struck in the neck, from behind.
+The first bite is aimed at the point containing the cervical ganglia
+and produces sudden death or immobility. Complete inertia will leave
+the consumer in peace, the essential condition of every satisfactory
+repast.
+
+The Devilkin, therefore, frail though she be, possesses the secret of
+immediately destroying the resistance of her prey. She bites at the
+back of the neck first, in order to give the finishing stroke. She goes
+on nibbling around the original attacking-point. In this way the
+Butterfly's head and the upper part of the breast are disposed of. But,
+by that time, the huntress is surfeited: she wants so little! The rest
+lies on the ground, disdained, not for lack of flavour, but because
+there is too much of it. A Cabbage Butterfly far exceeds the capacity
+of the Empusa's stomach. The Ants will benefit by what is left.
+
+There is one other matter to be mentioned, before observing the
+metamorphosis. The position adopted by the young Empusae in the
+wire-gauze cage is invariably the same from start to finish. Gripping
+the trellis-work by the claws of its four hind-legs, the insect
+occupies the top of the dome and hangs motionless, back downwards, with
+the whole of its body supported by the four suspension-points. If it
+wishes to move, the front harpoons open, stretch out, grasp a mesh and
+draw it to them. When the short walk is over, the lethal arms are
+brought back against the chest. One may say that it is nearly always
+the four hind-shanks which alone support the suspended insect.
+
+And this reversed position, which seems to us so trying, lasts for no
+short while: it is prolonged, in my cages, for ten months without a
+break. The Fly on the ceiling, it is true, occupies the same attitude;
+but she has her moments of rest: she flies, she walks in a normal
+posture, she spreads herself flat in the sun. Besides, her acrobatic
+feats do not cover a long period. The Empusa, on the other hand,
+maintains her curious equilibrium for ten months on end, without a
+break. Hanging from the trellis-work, back downwards, she hunts, eats,
+digests, dozes, casts her skin, undergoes her transformation, mates,
+lays her eggs and dies. She clambered up there when she was still quite
+young; she falls down, full of days, a corpse.
+
+Things do not happen exactly like this under natural conditions. The
+insect stands on the bushes back upwards; it keeps its balance in the
+regular attitude and turns over only in circumstances that occur at
+long intervals. The protracted suspension of my captives is all the
+more remarkable inasmuch as it is not at all an innate habit of their
+race.
+
+It reminds one of the Bats, who hang, head downwards, by their
+hind-legs from the roof of their caves. A special formation of the toes
+enables birds to sleep on one leg, which automatically and without
+fatigue clutches the swaying bough. The Empusa shows me nothing akin to
+their contrivance. The extremity of her walking-legs has the ordinary
+structure: a double claw at the tip, a double steelyard-hook; and that
+is all.
+
+I could wish that anatomy would show me the working of the muscles and
+nerves in those tarsi, in those legs more slender than threads, the
+action of the tendons that control the claws and keep them gripped for
+ten months, unwearied in waking and sleeping. If some dexterous scalpel
+should ever investigate this problem, I can recommend another, even
+more singular than that of the Empusa, the Bat and the bird. I refer to
+the attitude of certain Wasps and Bees during the night's rest.
+
+An Ammophila with red fore-legs (A. holosericea) is plentiful in my
+enclosure towards the end of August and selects a certain
+lavender-border for her dormitory. At dusk, especially after a stifling
+day, when a storm is brewing, I am sure to find the strange sleeper
+settled there. Never was more eccentric attitude adopted for a night's
+rest! The mandibles bite right into the lavender-stem. Its square shape
+supplies a firmer hold than a round stalk would do. With this one and
+only prop, the animal's body juts out stiffly, at full length, with
+legs folded. It forms a right angle with the supporting axis, so much
+so that the whole weight of the insect, which has turned itself into
+the arm of a lever rests upon the mandibles.
+
+The Ammophila sleeps extended in space by virtue of her mighty jaws. It
+takes an animal to think of a thing like that, which upsets all our
+preconceived ideas of repose. Should the threatening storm burst,
+should the stalk sway in the wind, the sleeper is not troubled by her
+swinging hammock; at most, she presses her fore-legs for a moment
+against the tossed mast. As soon as equilibrium is restored, the
+favourite posture, that of the horizontal lever, is resumed, perhaps
+the mandibles, like the bird's toes, possess the faculty of gripping
+tighter in proportion to the rocking of the wind.
+
+The Ammophila is not the only one to sleep in this singular position,
+which is copied by many others--Anthidia (Cotton-bees.--Translator's
+Note.), Odyneri (A genus of Mason-wasps.--Translator's Note.), Eucerae
+(A species of Burrowing-bees.--Translator's Note.)--and mainly by the
+males. All grip a stalk with their mandibles and sleep with their
+bodies outstretched and their legs folded back. Some, the stouter
+species, allow themselves to rest the tip of their arched abdomen
+against the pole.
+
+This visit to the dormitory of certain Wasps and Bees does not explain
+the problem of the Empusa; it sets up another one, no less difficult.
+It shows us how deficient we are in insight, when it comes to
+differentiating between fatigue and rest in the cogs of the animal
+machine. The Ammophila, with the static paradox afforded by her
+mandibles; the Empusa, with her claws unwearied by ten months' hanging,
+leave the physiologist perplexed and make him wonder what really
+constitutes rest. In absolute fact, there is no rest, apart from that
+which puts an end to life. The struggle never ceases; some muscle is
+always toiling, some nerve straining. Sleep, which resembles a return
+to the peace of non-existence, is, like waking, an effort, here of the
+leg, of the curled tail; there of the claw, of the jaws.
+
+The transformation is effected about the middle of May, and the adult
+Empusa makes her appearance. She is even more remarkable in figure and
+attire than the Praying Mantis. Of her youthful eccentricities, she
+retains the pointed mitre, the saw-like arm-guards, the long bust, the
+knee-pieces, the three rows of scales on the lower surface of the
+belly; but the abdomen is now no longer twisted into a crook and the
+animal is comelier to look upon. Large pale-green wings, pink at the
+shoulder and swift in flight in both sexes, cover the belly, which is
+striped white and green underneath. The male, the dandy sex, adorns
+himself with plumed antennae, like those of certain Moths, the Bombyx
+tribe. In respect of size, he is almost the equal of his mate.
+
+Save for a few slight structural details, the Empusa is the Praying
+Mantis. The peasant confuses them. When, in spring, he meets the mitred
+insect, he thinks he sees the common Prego-Dieu, who is a daughter of
+the autumn. Similar forms would seem to indicate similarity of habits.
+In fact, led away by the extraordinary armour, we should be tempted to
+attribute to the Empusa a mode of life even more atrocious than that of
+the Mantis. I myself thought so at first; and any one, relying upon
+false analogies, would think the same. It is a fresh error: for all her
+warlike aspect, the Empusa is a peaceful creature that hardly repays
+the trouble of rearing.
+
+Installed under the gauze bell, whether in assemblies of half a dozen
+or in separate couples, she at no time loses her placidity. Like the
+larva, she is very abstemious and contents herself with a Fly or two as
+her daily ration.
+
+Big eaters are naturally quarrelsome. The Mantis, bloated with Locusts,
+soon becomes irritated and shows fight. The Empusa, with her frugal
+meals, does not indulge in hostile demonstrations. There is no strife
+among neighbours nor any of those sudden unfurlings of the wings so
+dear to the Mantis when she assumes the spectral attitude and puffs
+like a startled Adder; never the least inclination for those cannibal
+banquets whereat the sister who has been worsted in the fight is
+devoured. Such atrocities or here unknown.
+
+Unknown also are tragic nuptials. The male is enterprising and
+assiduous and is subjected to a long trial before succeeding. For days
+and days he worries his mate, who ends by yielding. Due decorum is
+preserved after the wedding. The feathered groom retires, respected by
+his bride, and does his little bit of hunting, without danger of being
+apprehended and gobbled up.
+
+The two sexes live together in peace and mutual indifference until the
+middle of July. Then the male, grown old and decrepit, takes counsel
+with himself, hunts no more, becomes shaky in his walk, creeps down
+from the lofty heights of the trellised dome and at last collapses on
+the ground. His end comes by a natural death. And remember that the
+other, the male of the Praying Mantis, ends in the stomach of his
+gluttonous spouse.
+
+The laying follows close upon the disappearance of the males.
+
+One word more on comparative manners. The Mantis goes in for battle and
+cannibalism; the Empusa is peaceable and respects her kind. To what
+cause are these profound moral differences due, when the organic
+structure is the same? Perhaps to the difference of diet. Frugality, in
+fact, softens character, in animals as in men; gross feeding brutalizes
+it. The gormandizer gorged with meat and strong drink, a fruitful
+source of savage outbursts, could not possess the gentleness of the
+ascetic who dips his bread into a cup of milk. The Mantis is that
+gormandizer, the Empusa that ascetic.
+
+Granted. But whence does the one derive her voracious appetite, the
+other her temperate ways, when it would seem as though their almost
+identical structure ought to produce an identity of needs? These
+insects tell us, in their fashion, what many have already told us: that
+propensities and aptitudes do not depend exclusively upon anatomy; high
+above the physical laws that govern matter rise other laws that govern
+instincts.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 4. THE CAPRICORN.
+
+My youthful meditations owe some happy moments to Condillac's famous
+statue which, when endowed with the sense of smell, inhales the scent
+of a rose and out of that single impression creates a whole world of
+ideas. (Etienne Bonnot de Condillac, Abbe de Mureaux (1715-80), the
+leading exponent of sensational philosophy. His most important work is
+the "Traite des sensations," in which he imagines a statue, organized
+like a man, and endows it with the senses one by one, beginning with
+that of smell. He argues by a process of imaginative reconstruction
+that all human faculties and all human knowledge are merely transformed
+sensation, to the exclusion of any other principle, that, in short,
+everything has its source in sensation: man is nothing but what he has
+acquired.--Translator's Note.) My twenty-year-old mind, full of faith
+in syllogisms, loved to follow the deductive jugglery of the
+abbe-philosopher: I saw, or seemed to see, the statue take life in that
+action of the nostrils, acquiring attention, memory, judgment and all
+the psychological paraphernalia, even as still waters are aroused and
+rippled by the impact of a grain of sand. I recovered from my illusion
+under the instruction of my abler master, the animal. The Capricorn
+shall teach us that the problem is more obscure than the abbe led me to
+believe.
+
+When wedge and mallet are at work, preparing my provision of firewood
+under the grey sky that heralds winter, a favourite relaxation creates
+a welcome break in my daily output of prose. By my express orders, the
+woodman has selected the oldest and most ravaged trunks in his stack.
+My tastes bring a smile to his lips; he wonders by what whimsy I prefer
+wood that is worm-eaten--chirouna, as he calls it--to sound wood which
+burns so much better. I have my views on the subject; and the worthy
+man submits to them.
+
+And now to us two, O my fine oak-trunk seamed with scars, gashed with
+wounds whence trickle the brown drops smelling of the tan-yard. The
+mallet drives home, the wedges bite, the wood splits. What do your
+flanks contain? Real treasures for my studies. In the dry and hollow
+parts, groups of various insects, capable of living through the bad
+season of the year, have taken up their winter quarters: in the
+low-roofed galleries, galleries which some Buprestis-beetle has built,
+Osmia-bees, working their paste of masticated leaves, have piled their
+cells, one above the other; in the deserted chambers and vestibules,
+Megachiles (Leaf-cutting Bees.--Translator's Note.) have arranged their
+leafy jars; in the live wood, filled with juicy saps, the larvae of the
+Capricorn (Cerambyx miles), the chief author of the oak's undoing, have
+set up their home.
+
+Strange creatures, of a verity, are these grubs, for an insect of
+superior organization: bits of intestines crawling about! At this time
+of year, the middle of autumn, I meet them of two different ages. The
+older are almost as thick as one's finger; the others hardly attain the
+diameter of a pencil. I find, in addition, pupae more or less fully
+, perfect insects, with a distended abdomen, ready to leave the
+trunk when the hot weather comes again. Life inside the wood,
+therefore, lasts three years. How is this long period of solitude and
+captivity spent? In wandering lazily through the thickness of the oak,
+in making roads whose rubbish serves as food. The horse in Job swallows
+the ground in a figure of speech; the Capricorn's grub literally eats
+its way. ("Chafing and raging, he swalloweth the ground, neither doth
+he make account when the noise of the trumpet soundeth."--Job 39, 23
+(Douai version).--Translator's Note.) With its carpenter's gouge, a
+strong black mandible, short, devoid of notches, scooped into a
+sharp-edged spoon, it digs the opening of its tunnel. The piece cut out
+is a mouthful which, as it enters the stomach, yields its scanty juices
+and accumulates behind the worker in heaps of wormed wood. The refuse
+leaves room in front by passing through the worker. A labour at once of
+nutrition and of road-making, the path is devoured while constructed;
+it is blocked behind as it makes way ahead. That, however, is how all
+the borers who look to wood for victuals and lodging set about their
+business.
+
+For the harsh work of its two gouges, or curved chisels, the larva of
+the Capricorn concentrates its muscular strength in the front of its
+body, which swells into a pestle-head. The Buprestis-grubs, those other
+industrious carpenters, adopt a similar form; they even exaggerate
+their pestle. The part that toils and carves hard wood requires a
+robust structure; the rest of the body, which has but to follow after,
+continues slim. The essential thing is that the implement of the jaws
+should possess a solid support and a powerful motor. The Cerambyx-larva
+strengthens its chisels with a stout, black, horny armour that
+surrounds the mouth; yet, apart from its skull and its equipment of
+tools, the grub has a skin as fine as satin and white as ivory. This
+dead white comes from a copious layer of grease which the animal's
+spare diet would not lead us to suspect. True, it has nothing to do, at
+every hour of the day and night, but gnaw. The quantity of wood that
+passes into its stomach makes up for the dearth of nourishing elements.
+
+The legs, consisting of three pieces, the first globular, the last
+sharp-pointed, are mere rudiments, vestiges. They are hardly a
+millimetre long. (.039 inch.--Translator's Note.) For this reason they
+are of no use whatever for walking; they do not even bear upon the
+supporting surface, being kept off it by the obesity of the chest. The
+organs of locomotion are something altogether different. The grub of
+the Capricorn moves at the same time on its back and belly; instead of
+the useless legs of the thorax, it has a walking-apparatus almost
+resembling feet, which appear, contrary to every rule, on the dorsal
+surface.
+
+The first seven segments of the abdomen have, both above and below, a
+four-sided facet, bristling with rough protuberances. This the grub can
+either expand or contract, making it stick out or lie flat at will. The
+upper facets consist of two excrescences separated by the mid-dorsal
+line; the lower ones have not this divided appearance. These are the
+organs of locomotion, the ambulacra. When the larva wishes to move
+forwards, it expands its hinder ambulacra, those on the back as well as
+those on the belly, and contracts its front ones. Fixed to the side of
+the narrow gallery by their ridges, the hind-pads give the grub a
+purchase. The flattening of the fore-pads, by decreasing the diameter,
+allows it to slip forward and to take half a step. To complete the step
+the hind-quarters have to be brought up the same distance. With this
+object, the front pads fill out and provide support, while those behind
+shrink and leave free scope for their segments to contract.
+
+With the double support of its back and belly, with alternate puffings
+and shrinkings, the animal easily advances or retreats along its
+gallery, a sort of mould which the contents fill without a gap. But if
+the locomotory pads grip only on one side progress becomes impossible.
+When placed on the smooth wood of my table, the animal wriggles slowly;
+it lengthens and shortens without advancing by a hair's-breadth. Laid
+on the surface of a piece of split oak, a rough, uneven surface, due to
+the gash made by the wedge, it twists and writhes, moves the front part
+of its body very slowly from left to right and right to left, lifts it
+a little, lowers it and begins again. These are the most extensive
+movements made. The vestigial legs remain inert and absolutely useless.
+Then why are they there? It were better to lose them altogether, if it
+be true that crawling inside the oak has deprived the animal of the
+good legs with which it started. The influence of environment, so
+well-inspired in endowing the grub with ambulatory pads, becomes a
+mockery when it leaves it these ridiculous stumps. Can the structure,
+perchance, be obeying other rules than those of environment?
+
+Though the useless legs, the germs of the future limbs, persist, there
+is no sign in the grub of the eyes wherewith the Cerambyx will be
+richly gifted. The larva has not the least trace of organs of vision.
+What would it do with sight in the murky thickness of a tree-trunk?
+Hearing is likewise absent. In the never-troubled silence of the oak's
+inmost heart, the sense of hearing would be a non-sense. Where sounds
+are lacking, of what use is the faculty of discerning them? Should
+there be any doubts, I will reply to them with the following
+experiment. Split lengthwise, the grub's abode leaves a half-tunnel
+wherein I can watch the occupant's doings. When left alone, it now
+gnaws the front of its gallery, now rests, fixed by its ambulacra to
+the two sides of the channel. I avail myself of these moments of quiet
+to inquire into its power of perceiving sounds. The banging of hard
+bodies, the ring of metallic objects, the grating of a file upon a saw
+are tried in vain. The animal remains impassive. Not a wince, not a
+movement of the skin; no sign of awakened attention. I succeed no
+better when I scratch the wood close by with a hard point, to imitate
+the sound of some neighbouring larva gnawing the intervening thickness.
+The indifference to my noisy tricks could be no greater in a lifeless
+object. The animal is deaf.
+
+Can it smell? Everything tells us no. Scent is of assistance in the
+search for food. But the Capricorn grub need not go in quest of
+eatables: it feeds on its home, it lives on the wood that gives it
+shelter. Let us make an attempt or two, however. I scoop in a log of
+fresh cypress-wood a groove of the same diameter as that of the natural
+galleries and I place the worm inside it. Cypress-wood is strongly
+scented; it possesses in a high degree that resinous aroma which
+characterizes most of the pine family. Well, when laid in the
+odoriferous channel, the larva goes to the end, as far as it can go,
+and makes no further movement. Does not this placid quiescence point to
+the absence of a sense of smell? The resinous flavour, so strange to
+the grub which has always lived in oak, ought to vex it, to trouble it;
+and the disagreeable impression ought to be revealed by a certain
+commotion, by certain attempts to get away. Well, nothing of the kind
+happens: once the larva has found the right position in the groove, it
+does not stir. I do more: I set before it, at a very short distance, in
+its normal canal, a piece of camphor. Again, no effect. Camphor is
+followed by naphthaline. Still nothing. After these fruitless
+endeavours, I do not think that I am going too far when I deny the
+creature a sense of smell.
+
+Taste is there, no doubt. But such taste! The food is without variety:
+oak, for three years at a stretch, and nothing else. What can the
+grub's palate appreciate in this monotonous fare? The tannic relish of
+a fresh piece, oozing with sap, the uninteresting flavour of an
+over-dry piece, robbed of its natural condiment: these probably
+represent the whole gustative scale.
+
+There remains touch, the far-spreading, passive sense common to all
+live flesh that quivers under the goad of pain. The sensitive schedule
+of the Cerambyx-grub, therefore, is limited to taste and touch, both
+exceedingly obtuse. This almost brings us to Condillac's statue. The
+imaginary being of the philosopher had one sense only, that of smell,
+equal in delicacy to our own; the real being, the ravager of the oak,
+has two, inferior, even when put together, to the former, which so
+plainly perceived the scent of a rose and distinguished it so clearly
+from any other. The real case will bear comparison with the fictitious.
+
+What can be the psychology of a creature possessing such a powerful
+digestive organism combined with such a feeble set of senses? A vain
+wish has often come to me in my dreams; it is to be able to think, for
+a few minutes, with the crude brain of my Dog, to see the world with
+the faceted eyes of a Gnat. How things would change in appearance! They
+would change much more if interpreted by the intellect of the grub.
+What have the lessons of touch and taste contributed to that
+rudimentary receptacle of impressions? Very little; almost nothing. The
+animal knows that the best bits possess an astringent flavour; that the
+sides of a passage not carefully planed are painful to the skin. This
+is the utmost limit of its acquired wisdom. In comparison, the statue
+with the sensitive nostrils was a marvel of knowledge, a paragon too
+generously endowed by its inventor. It remembered, compared, judged,
+reasoned: does the drowsily digesting paunch remember? Does it compare?
+Does it reason? I defined the Capricorn-grub as a bit of an intestine
+that crawls about. The undeniable accuracy of this definition provides
+me with my answer: the grub has the aggregate of sense-impressions that
+a bit of an intestine may hope to have.
+
+And this nothing-at-all is capable of marvellous acts of foresight;
+this belly, which knows hardly aught of the present, sees very clearly
+into the future. Let us take an illustration on this curious subject.
+For three years on end the larva wanders about in the thick of the
+trunk; it goes up, goes down, turns to this side and that; it leaves
+one vein for another of better flavour, but without moving too far from
+the inner depths, where the temperature is milder and greater safety
+reigns. A day is at hand, a dangerous day for the recluse obliged to
+quit its excellent retreat and face the perils of the surface. Eating
+is not everything: we have to get out of this. The larva, so
+well-equipped with tools and muscular strength, finds no difficulty in
+going where it pleases, by boring through the wood; but does the coming
+Capricorn, whose short spell of life must be spent in the open air,
+possess the same advantages? Hatched inside the trunk, will the
+long-horned insect be able to clear itself a way of escape?
+
+That is the difficulty which the worm solves by inspiration. Less
+versed in things of the future, despite my gleams of reason, I resort
+to experiment with a view to fathoming the question. I begin by
+ascertaining that the Capricorn, when he wishes to leave the trunk, is
+absolutely unable to make use of the tunnel wrought by the larva. It is
+a very long and very irregular maze, blocked with great heaps of wormed
+wood. Its diameter decreases progressively from the final blind alley
+to the starting-point. The larva entered the timber as slim as a tiny
+bit of straw; it is to-day as thick as my finger. In its three years'
+wanderings it always dug its gallery according to the mould of its
+body. Evidently, the road by which the larva entered and moved about
+cannot be the Capricorn's exit-way: his immoderate antennae, his long
+legs, his inflexible armour-plates would encounter an insuperable
+obstacle in the narrow, winding corridor, which would have to be
+cleared of its wormed wood and, moreover, greatly enlarged. It would be
+less fatiguing to attack the untouched timber and dig straight ahead.
+Is the insect capable of doing so? We shall see.
+
+I make some chambers of suitable size in oak logs chopped in two; and
+each of my artificial cells receives a newly transformed Cerambyx, such
+as my provisions of firewood supply, when split by the wedge, in
+October. The two pieces are then joined and kept together with a few
+bands of wire. June comes. I hear a scraping inside my billets. Will
+the Capricorns come out, or not? The delivery does not seem difficult
+to me: there is hardly three-quarters of an inch to pierce. Not one
+emerges. When all is silence, I open my apparatus. The captives, from
+first to last, are dead. A vestige of sawdust, less than a pinch of
+snuff, represents all their work.
+
+I expected more from those sturdy tools, their mandibles. But, as I
+have said elsewhere, the tool does not make the workman. In spite of
+their boring-implements, the hermits die in my cases for lack of skill.
+I subject others to less arduous tests. I enclose them in spacious
+reed-stumps, equal in diameter to the natal cell. The obstacle to be
+pierced is the natural diaphragm, a yielding partition two or three
+millimetres thick. (.078 to .117 inch.--Translator's Note.) Some free
+themselves; others cannot. The less vibrant ones succumb, stopped by
+the frail barrier. What would it be if they had to pass through a
+thickness of oak?
+
+We are now persuaded: despite his stalwart appearance, the Capricorn is
+powerless to leave the tree-trunk by his unaided efforts. It therefore
+falls to the worm, to the wisdom of that bit of an intestine, to
+prepare the way for him. We see renewed, in another form, the feats of
+prowess of the Anthrax, whose pupa, armed with trepans, bores through
+rock on the feeble Fly's behalf. Urged by a presentiment that to us
+remains an unfathomable mystery, the Cerambyx-grub leaves the inside of
+the oak, its peaceful retreat, its unassailable stronghold, to wriggle
+towards the outside, where lives the foe, the Woodpecker, who may
+gobble up the succulent little sausage. At the risk of its life, it
+stubbornly digs and gnaws to the very bark, of which it leaves no more
+intact than the thinnest film, a slender screen. Sometimes, even, the
+rash one opens the window wide.
+
+This is the Capricorn's exit-hole. The insect will have but to file the
+screen a little with its mandibles, to bump against it with its
+forehead, in order to bring it down; it will even have nothing to do
+when the window is free, as often happens. The unskilled carpenter,
+burdened with his extravagant head-dress, will emerge from the darkness
+through this opening when the summer heats arrive.
+
+After the cares of the future come the cares of the present. The larva,
+which has just opened the aperture of escape, retreats some distance
+down its gallery and, in the side of the exit-way, digs itself a
+transformation-chamber more sumptuously furnished and barricaded than
+any that I have ever seen. It is a roomy niche, shaped like a flattened
+ellipsoid, the length of which reaches eighty to a hundred millimetres.
+(3 to 4 inches.--Translator's Note.) The two axes of the cross-section
+vary: the horizontal measures twenty-five to thirty millimetres (.975
+to 1.17 inch.--Translator's Note.); the vertical measures only fifteen.
+(.585 inch.--Translator's Note.) This greater dimension of the cell,
+where the thickness of the perfect insect is concerned, leaves a
+certain scope for the action of its legs when the time comes for
+forcing the barricade, which is more than a close-fitting mummy-case
+would do.
+
+The barricade in question, a door which the larva builds to exclude the
+dangers from without, is two-and even three-fold. Outside, it is a
+stack of woody refuse, of particles of chopped timber; inside, a
+mineral hatch, a concave cover, all in one piece, of a chalky white.
+Pretty often, but not always, there is added to these two layers an
+inner casing of shavings. Behind this compound door, the larva makes
+its arrangements for the metamorphosis. The sides of the chamber are
+rasped, thus providing a sort of down formed of ravelled woody fibres,
+broken into minute shreds. The velvety matter, as and when obtained, is
+applied to the wall in a continuous felt at least a millimetre thick.
+(.039 inch.--Translator's Note.) The chamber is thus padded throughout
+with a fine swan's-down, a delicate precaution taken by the rough worm
+on behalf of the tender pupa.
+
+Let us hark back to the most curious part of the furnishing, the
+mineral hatch or inner door of the entrance. It is an elliptical
+skull-cap, white and hard as chalk, smooth within and knotted without,
+resembling more or less closely an acorn-cup. The knots show that the
+matter is supplied in small, pasty mouthfuls, solidifying outside in
+slight projections which the insect does not remove, being unable to
+get at them, and polished on the inside surface, which is within the
+worm's reach. What can be the nature of that singular lid whereof the
+Cerambyx furnishes me with the first specimen? It is as hard and
+brittle as a flake of lime-stone. It can be dissolved cold in nitric
+acid, discharging little gaseous bubbles. The process of solution is a
+slow one, requiring several hours for a tiny fragment. Everything is
+dissolved, except a few yellowish flocks, which appear to be of an
+organic nature. As a matter of fact, a piece of the hatch, when
+subjected to heat, blackens, proving the presence of an organic glue
+cementing the mineral matter. The solution becomes muddy if oxalate of
+ammonia be added; it then deposits a copious white precipitate. These
+signs indicate calcium carbonate. I look for urate of ammonia, that
+constantly recurring product of the various stages of the
+metamorphoses. It is not there: I find not the least trace of murexide.
+The lid, therefore, is composed solely of carbonate of lime and of an
+organic cement, no doubt of an albuminous character, which gives
+consistency to the chalky paste.
+
+Had circumstances served me better, I should have tried to discover in
+which of the worm's organs the stony deposit dwells. I am however,
+convinced: it is the stomach, the chylific ventricle, that supplies the
+chalk. It keeps it separated from the food, either as original matter
+or as a derivative of the ammonium urate; it purges it of all foreign
+bodies, when the larval period comes to an end, and holds it in reserve
+until the time comes to disgorge it. This freestone factory causes me
+no astonishment: when the manufacturer undergoes his change, it serves
+for various chemical works. Certain Oil-beetles, such as the Sitaris,
+locate in it the urate of ammonia, the refuse of the transformed
+organism; the Sphex, the Pelopaei, the Scoliae use it to manufacture
+the shellac wherewith the silk of the cocoon is varnished. Further
+investigations will only swell the aggregate of the products of this
+obliging organ.
+
+When the exit-way is prepared and the cell upholstered in velvet and
+closed with a threefold barricade, the industrious worm has concluded
+its task. It lays aside its tools, sheds its skin and becomes a nymph,
+a pupa, weakness personified, in swaddling-clothes, on a soft couch.
+The head is always turned towards the door. This is a trifling detail
+in appearance; but it is everything in reality. To lie this way or that
+in the long cell is a matter of great indifference to the grub, which
+is very supple, turning easily in its narrow lodging and adopting
+whatever position it pleases. The coming Capricorn will not enjoy the
+same privileges. Stiffly girt in his horn cuirass, he will not be able
+to turn from end to end; he will not even be capable of bending, if
+some sudden wind should make the passage difficult. He must absolutely
+find the door in front of him, lest he perish in the casket. Should the
+grub forget this little formality, should it lie down to its nymphal
+sleep with its head at the back of the cell, the Capricorn is
+infallibly lost: his cradle becomes a hopeless dungeon.
+
+But there is no fear of this danger: the knowledge of our bit of an
+intestine is too sound in things of the future for the grub to neglect
+the formality of keeping its head to the door. At the end of spring,
+the Capricorn, now in possession of his full strength, dreams of the
+joys of the sun, of the festivals of light. He wants to get out. What
+does he find before him? A heap of filings easily dispersed with his
+claws; next, a stone lid which he need not even break into fragments:
+it comes undone in one piece; it is removed from its frame with a few
+pushes of the forehead, a few tugs of the claws. In fact, I find the
+lid intact on the threshold of the abandoned cells. Last comes a second
+mass of woody remnants, as easy to disperse as the first. The road is
+now free: the Cerambyx has but to follow the spacious vestibule, which
+will lead him, without the possibility of mistake, to the exit. Should
+the window not be open, all that he has to do is to gnaw through a thin
+screen: an easy task; and behold him outside, his long antennae aquiver
+with excitement.
+
+What have we learnt from him? Nothing, from him; much from his grub.
+This grub, so poor in sensory organs, gives us no little food for
+reflection with its prescience. It knows that the coming Beetle will
+not be able to cut himself a road through the oak and it bethinks
+itself of opening one for him at its own risk and peril. It knows that
+the Cerambyx, in his stiff armour, will never be able to turn and make
+for the orifice of the cell; and it takes care to fall into its nymphal
+sleep with its head to the door. It knows how soft the pupa's flesh
+will be and upholsters the bedroom with velvet. It knows that the enemy
+is likely to break in during the slow work of the transformation and,
+to set a bulwark against his attacks, it stores a calcium pap inside
+its stomach. It knows the future with a clear vision, or, to be
+accurate, behaves as though it knew it. Whence did it derive the
+motives of its actions? Certainly not from the experience of the
+senses. What does it know of the outside world? Let us repeat, as much
+as a bit of an intestine can know. And this senseless creature fills us
+with amazement! I regret that the clever logician, instead of
+conceiving a statue smelling a rose, did not imagine it gifted with
+some instinct. How quickly he would have recognized that, quite apart
+from sense-impressions, the animal, including man, possesses certain
+psychological resources, certain inspirations that are innate and not
+acquired!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 5. THE BURYING-BEETLES: THE BURIAL.
+
+Beside the footpath in April lies the Mole, disembowelled by the
+peasant's spade; at the foot of the hedge the pitiless urchin has
+stoned to death the Lizard, who was about to don his green,
+pearl-embellished costume. The passer-by has thought it a meritorious
+deed to crush beneath his heel the chance-met Adder; and a gust of wind
+has thrown a tiny unfeathered bird from its nest. What will become of
+these little bodies and of so many other pitiful remnants of life? They
+will not long offend our sense of sight and smell. The sanitary
+officers of the fields are legion.
+
+An eager freebooter, ready for any task, the Ant is the first to come
+hastening and begin, particle by particle, to dissect the corpse. Soon
+the odour of the corpse attracts the Fly, the genitrix of the odious
+maggot. At the same time, the flattened Silpha, the glistening,
+slow-trotting Horn-beetle, the Dermestes, powdered with snow upon the
+abdomen, and the slender Staphylinus, all, whence coming no one knows,
+hurry hither in squads, with never-wearied zeal, investigating, probing
+and draining the infection.
+
+What a spectacle, in the spring, beneath a dead Mole! The horror of
+this laboratory is a beautiful sight for one who is able to observe and
+to meditate. Let us overcome our disgust; let us turn over the unclean
+refuse with our foot. What a swarming there is beneath it, what a
+tumult of busy workers! The Silphae, with wing-cases wide and dark, as
+though in mourning, fly distraught, hiding in the cracks in the soil;
+the Saprini, of polished ebony which mirrors the sunlight, jog hastily
+off, deserting their workshop; the Dermestes, of whom one wears a
+fawn- tippet, spotted with white, seek to fly away, but, tipsy
+with their putrid nectar, tumble over and reveal the immaculate
+whiteness of their bellies, which forms a violent contrast with the
+gloom of the rest of their attire.
+
+What were they doing there, all these feverish workers? They were
+making a clearance of death on behalf of life. Transcendent alchemists,
+they were transforming that horrible putridity into a living and
+inoffensive product. They were draining the dangerous corpse to the
+point of rendering it as dry and sonorous as the remains of an old
+slipper hardened on the refuse-heap by the frosts of winter and the
+heats of summer. They were working their hardest to render the carrion
+innocuous.
+
+Others will soon put in their appearance, smaller creatures and more
+patient, who will take over the relic and exploit it ligament by
+ligament, bone by bone, hair by hair, until the whole has been resumed
+by the treasury of life. All honour to these purifiers! Let us put back
+the Mole and go our way.
+
+Some other victim of the agricultural labours of spring--a Shrew-mouse,
+Field-mouse, Mole, Frog, Adder, or Lizard--will provide us with the
+most vigorous and famous of these expurgators of the soil. This is the
+Burying-beetle, the Necrophorus, so different from the cadaveric mob in
+dress and habits. In honour of his exalted functions he exhales an
+odour of musk; he bears a red tuft at the tip of his antennae; his
+breast is covered with nankeen; and across his wing-cases he wears a
+double, scalloped scarf of vermilion. An elegant, almost sumptuous
+costume, very superior to that of the others, but yet lugubrious, as
+befits your undertaker's man.
+
+He is no anatomical dissector, cutting his subject open, carving its
+flesh with the scalpel of his mandibles; he is literally a gravedigger,
+a sexton. While the others--Silphae, Dermestes, Horn-beetles--gorge
+themselves with the exploited flesh, without, of course, forgetting the
+interests of the family, he, a frugal eater, hardly touches his booty
+on his own account. He buries it entire, on the spot, in a cellar where
+the thing, duly ripened, will form the diet of his larvae. He buries it
+in order to establish his progeny therein.
+
+This hoarder of dead bodies, with his stiff and almost heavy movements,
+is astonishingly quick at storing away wreckage. In a shift of a few
+hours, a comparatively enormous animal--a Mole, for
+example--disappears, engulfed by the earth. The others leave the dried,
+emptied carcass to the air, the sport of the winds for months on end;
+he, treating it as a whole, makes a clean job of things at once. No
+visible trace of his work remains but a tiny hillock, a burial-mound, a
+tumulus.
+
+With his expeditious method, the Necrophorus is the first of the little
+purifiers of the fields. He is also one of the most celebrated of
+insects in respect of his psychical capacities. This undertaker is
+endowed, they say, with intellectual faculties approaching to reason,
+such as are not possessed by the most gifted of the Bees and Wasps, the
+collectors of honey or game. He is honoured by the two following
+anecdotes, which I quote from Lacordaire's "Introduction to
+Entomology," the only general treatise at my disposal:
+
+"Clairville," says the author, "records that he saw a Necrophorus
+vespillo, who, wishing to bury a dead Mouse and finding the soil on
+which the body lay too hard, proceeded to dig a hole at some distance
+in soil more easily displaced. This operation completed, he attempted
+to bury the Mouse in this cavity, but, not succeeding, he flew away,
+returning a few moments later accompanied by four of his fellows, who
+assisted him to move the Mouse and bury it."
+
+In such actions, Lacordaire adds, we cannot refuse to admit the
+intervention of reason.
+
+"The following case," he continues, "recorded by Gledditsch, has also
+every indication of the intervention of reason. One of his friends,
+wishing to desiccate a Frog, placed it on the top of a stick thrust
+into the ground, in order to make sure that the Necrophori should not
+come and carry it off. But this precaution was of no effect; the
+insects, being unable to reach the Frog, dug under the stick and,
+having caused it to fall, buried it as well as the body." ("Suites a
+Buffon. Introduction a l'entomologie" volume 2 pages 460-61.--Author's
+Note.)
+
+To grant, in the intellect of the insect, a lucid understanding of the
+relations between cause and effect, between the end and the means, is
+an affirmation of serious import. I know of scarcely any better adapted
+to the philosophical brutalities of my time. But are these two little
+stories really true? Do they involve the consequences deduced from
+them? Are not those who accept them as reliable testimony a little
+over-simple?
+
+To be sure, simplicity is needed in entomology. Without a good dose of
+this quality, a mental defect in the eyes of practical folk, who would
+busy himself with the lesser creatures? Yes, let us be simple, without
+being childishly credulous. Before making insects reason, let us reason
+a little ourselves; let us, above all, consult the experimental test. A
+fact gathered at hazard, without criticism, cannot establish a law.
+
+I do not propose, O valiant grave-diggers, to belittle your merits;
+such is far from being my intention. I have that in my notes, on the
+other hand, which will do you more honour than the case of the gibbet
+and the Frog; I have gleaned, for your benefit, examples of prowess
+which will shed a new lustre upon your reputation.
+
+No, my intention is not to lessen your renown. However, it is not the
+business of impartial history to maintain a given thesis; it follows
+whither the facts lead it. I wish simply to question you upon the power
+of logic attributed to you. Do you or do you not enjoy gleams of
+reason? Have you within you the humble germ of human thought? That is
+the problem before us.
+
+To solve it we will not rely upon the accidents which good fortune may
+now and again procure for us. We must employ the breeding-cage, which
+will permit of assiduous visits, continued inquiry and a variety of
+artifices. But how populate the cage? The land of the olive-tree is not
+rich in Necrophori. To my knowledge it possesses only a single species,
+N. vestigator (Hersch.); and even this rival of the grave-diggers of
+the north is pretty scarce. The discovery of three or four in the
+course of the spring was as much as my searches yielded in the old
+days. This time, if I do not resort to the ruses of the trapper, I
+shall obtain them in no greater numbers; whereas I stand in need of at
+least a dozen.
+
+These ruses are very simple. To go in search of the layer-out of
+bodies, who exists only here and there in the country-side, would be
+almost always waste of time; the favourable month, April, would elapse
+before my cage was suitably populated. To run after him is to trust too
+much to accident; so we will make him come to us by scattering in the
+orchard an abundant collection of dead Moles. To this carrion, ripened
+by the sun, the insect will not fail to hasten from the various points
+of the horizon, so accomplished is he in the detection of such a
+delicacy.
+
+I make an arrangement with a gardener in the neighbourhood, who, two or
+three times a week, supplements the penury of my acre and a half of
+stony ground, providing me with vegetables raised in a better soil. I
+explain to him my urgent need of Moles, an indefinite number of moles.
+Battling daily with trap and spade against the importunate excavator
+who uproots his crops, he is in a better position than any one else to
+procure for me that which I regard for the moment as more precious than
+his bunches of asparagus or his white-heart cabbages.
+
+The worthy man at first laughs at my request, being greatly surprised
+by the importance which I attribute to the abhorrent creature, the
+Darboun; but at last he consents, not without a suspicion at the back
+of his mind that I am going to make myself a wonderful flannel-lined
+waist-coat with the soft, velvety skins of the Moles, something good
+for pains in the back. Very well. We settle the matter. The essential
+thing is that the Darbouns shall reach me.
+
+They reach me punctually, by twos, by threes, by fours, packed in a few
+cabbage-leaves, at the bottom of the gardener's basket. The worthy man
+who lent himself with such good grace to my strange requirements will
+never guess how much comparative psychology will owe him! In a few days
+I was the possessor of thirty Moles, which were scattered here and
+there, as they reached me, in bare portions of the orchard, amid the
+rosemary-bushes, the arbutus-trees, and the lavender-beds.
+
+Now it only remained to wait and to examine, several times a day, the
+under-side of my little corpses, a disgusting task which any one would
+avoid who had not the sacred fire in his veins. Only little Paul, of
+all the household, lent me the aid of his nimble hand to seize the
+fugitives. I have already stated that the entomologist has need of
+simplicity of mind. In this important business of the Necrophori, my
+assistants were a child and an illiterate.
+
+Little Paul's visits alternating with mine, we had not long to wait.
+The four winds of heaven bore forth in all directions the odour of the
+carrion; and the undertakers hurried up, so that the experiments, begun
+with four subjects, were continued with fourteen, a number not attained
+during the whole of my previous searches, which were unpremeditated and
+in which no bait was used as decoy. My trapper's ruse was completely
+successful.
+
+Before I report the results obtained in the cage, let us for a moment
+stop to consider the normal conditions of the labours that fall to the
+lot of the Necrophori. The Beetle does not select his head of game,
+choosing one in proportion to his strength, as do the predatory Wasps;
+he accepts it as hazard presents it to him. Among his finds there are
+little creatures, such as the Shrew-mouse; animals of medium size, such
+as the Field-mouse; and enormous beasts, such as the Mole, the
+Sewer-rat and the Snake, any of which exceeds the powers of excavation
+of a single grave-digger. In the majority of cases transportation is
+impossible, so disproportioned is the burden to the motive-power. A
+slight displacement, caused by the effort of the insects' backs, is all
+that can possibly be effected.
+
+Ammophilus and Cerceris, Sphex and Pompilus excavate their burrows
+wherever they please; they carry their prey thither on the wing, or, if
+too heavy, drag it afoot. The Necrophorus knows no such facilities in
+his task. Incapable of carrying the monstrous corpse, no matter where
+encountered, he is forced to dig the grave where the body lies.
+
+This obligatory place of sepulture may be in stony soil; it may occupy
+this or that bare spot, or some other where the grass, especially the
+couch-grass, plunges into the ground its inextricable network of little
+cords. There is a great probability, too, that a bristle of stunted
+brambles may support the body at some inches from the soil. Slung by
+the labourers' spade, which has just broken his back, the Mole falls
+here, there, anywhere, at random; and where the body falls, no matter
+what the obstacles--provided they be not insurmountable--there the
+undertaker must utilize it.
+
+The difficulties of inhumation are capable of such variety as causes us
+already to foresee that the Necrophorus cannot employ fixed methods in
+the accomplishment of his labours. Exposed to fortuitous hazards, he
+must be able to modify his tactics within the limits of his modest
+perceptions. To saw, to break, to disentangle, to lift, to shake, to
+displace: these are so many methods of procedure which are
+indispensable to the grave-digger in a predicament. Deprived of these
+resources, reduced to uniformity of method, the insect would be
+incapable of pursuing the calling which has fallen to its lot.
+
+We see at once how imprudent it would be to draw conclusions from an
+isolated case in which rational coordination or premeditated intention
+might appear to intervene. Every instinctive action no doubt has its
+motive; but does the animal in the first place judge whether the action
+is opportune? Let us begin by a careful consideration of the creature's
+labours; let us support each piece of evidence by others; and then we
+shall be able to answer the question.
+
+First of all, a word as to diet. A general scavenger, the
+Burying-beetle refuses nothing in the way of cadaveric putridity. All
+is good to his senses, feathered game or furry, provided that the
+burden do not exceed his strength. He exploits the batrachian or the
+reptile with no less animation, he accepts without hesitation
+extraordinary finds, probably unknown to his race, as witness a certain
+Gold-fish, a red Chinese Carp, whose body, placed in one of my cages,
+was instantly considered an excellent tit-bit and buried according to
+the rules. Nor is butcher's meat despised. A mutton-cutlet, a strip of
+beefsteak, in the right stage of maturity, disappeared beneath the
+soil, receiving the same attention as those which were lavished on the
+Mole or the Mouse. In short, the Necrophorus has no exclusive
+preferences; anything putrid he conveys underground.
+
+The maintenance of his industry, therefore, presents no sort of
+difficulty. If one kind of game be lacking, some other--the first to
+hand--will very well replace it. Neither is there much trouble in
+establishing the site of his industry. A capacious dish-cover of wire
+gauze is sufficient, resting on an earthen pan filled to the brim with
+fresh, heaped sand. To obviate criminal attempts on the part of the
+Cats, whom the game would not fail to tempt, the cage is installed in a
+closed room with glazed windows, which in winter is the refuge of the
+plants and in summer an entomological laboratory.
+
+Now to work. The Mole lies in the centre of the enclosure. The soil,
+easily shifted and homogeneous, realizes the best conditions for
+comfortable work. Four Necrophori, three males and a female, are there
+with the body. They remain invisible, hidden beneath the carcass, which
+from time to time seems to return to life, shaken from end to end by
+the backs of the workers. An observer not in the secret would be
+somewhat astonished to see the dead creature move. From time to time,
+one of the sextons, almost always a male, emerges and goes the rounds
+of the animal, which he explores, probing its velvet coat. He hurriedly
+returns, appears again, once more investigates and creeps back under
+the corpse.
+
+The tremors become more pronounced; the carcass oscillates, while a
+cushion of sand, pushed outward from below, grows up all about it. The
+Mole, by reason of his own weight and the efforts of the grave-diggers,
+who are labouring at their task beneath him, gradually sinks, for lack
+of support, into the undermined soil.
+
+Presently the sand which has been pushed outward quivers under the
+thrust of the invisible miners, slips into the pit and covers the
+interred Mole. It is a clandestine burial. The body seems to disappear
+of itself, as though engulfed by a fluid medium. For a long time yet,
+until the depth is regarded as sufficient, the body will continue to
+descend.
+
+It is, when all is taken into account, a very simple operation. As the
+diggers, underneath the corpse, deepen the cavity into which it sinks,
+tugged and shaken by the sextons, the grave, without their
+intervention, fills of itself by the mere downfall of the shaken soil.
+Useful shovels at the tips of their claws, powerful backs, capable of
+creating a little earthquake: the diggers need nothing more for the
+practice of their profession. Let us add--for this is an essential
+point--the art of continually jerking and shaking the body, so as to
+pack it into a lesser volume and cause it to pass when passage is
+obstructed. We shall presently see that this art plays a part of the
+greatest importance in the industry of the Necrophori.
+
+Although he has disappeared, the Mole is still far from having reached
+his destination. Let us leave the undertakers to complete their task.
+What they are now doing below ground is a continuation of what they did
+on the surface and would teach us nothing new. We will wait for two or
+three days.
+
+The moment has come. Let us inform ourselves of what is happening down
+there. Let us visit the retting-vat. I shall invite no one to be
+present at the exhumation. Of those about me, only little Paul has the
+courage to assist me.
+
+The Mole is a Mole no longer, but a greenish horror, putrid, hairless,
+shrunk into a round, greasy mass. The thing must have undergone careful
+manipulation to be thus condensed into a small volume, like a fowl in
+the hands of the cook, and, above all, to be so completely deprived of
+its fur. Is this culinary procedure undertaken in respect of the
+larvae, which might be incommoded by the fur? Or is it just a casual
+result, a mere loss of hair due to putridity? I am not certain. But it
+is always the case that these exhumations, from first to last, have
+revealed the furry game furless and the feathered game featherless,
+except for the tail-feathers and the pinion-feathers of the wings.
+Reptiles and fish, on the other hand, retain their scales.
+
+Let us return to the unrecognizable thing which was once a Mole. The
+tit-bit lies in a spacious crypt, with firm walls, a regular workshop,
+worthy of being the bake-house of a Copris-beetle. Except for the fur,
+which is lying in scattered flocks, it is intact. The grave-diggers
+have not eaten into it; it is the patrimony of the sons, not the
+provision of the parents, who, in order to sustain themselves, levy at
+most a few mouthfuls of the ooze of putrid humours.
+
+Beside the dish which they are kneading and protecting are two
+Necrophori; a couple, no more. Four collaborated in the burial. What
+has become of the other two, both males? I find them hidden in the
+soil, at a distance, almost at the surface.
+
+This observation is not an isolated one. Whenever I am present at a
+burial undertaken by a squad in which the males, zealous one and all,
+predominate, I find presently, when the burial is completed, only one
+couple in the mortuary cellar. Having lent their assistance, the rest
+have discreetly retired.
+
+These grave-diggers, in truth, are remarkable fathers. They have
+nothing of the happy-go-lucky paternal carelessness that is the general
+rule among insects, which plague and pester the mother for a moment
+with their attentions and thereupon leave her to care for the
+offspring! But those who in the other races are unemployed in this case
+labour valiantly, now in the interest of their own family, now for the
+sake of another's, without distinction. If a couple is in difficulties,
+helpers arrive, attracted by the odour of carrion; anxious to serve a
+lady, they creep under the body, work at it with back and claw, bury it
+and then go their ways, leaving the householders to their happiness.
+
+For some time longer these latter manipulate the morsel in concert,
+stripping it of fur or feather, trussing it and allowing it to simmer
+to the taste of the larvae. When all is in order, the couple go forth,
+dissolving their partnership, and each, following his fancy,
+recommences elsewhere, even if only as a mere auxiliary.
+
+Twice and no oftener hitherto have I found the father preoccupied by
+the future of his sons and labouring in order to leave them rich: it
+happens with certain Dung-beetles and with the Necrophori, who bury
+dead bodies. Scavengers and undertakers both have exemplary morals. Who
+would look for virtue in such a quarter?
+
+What follows--the larval existence and the metamorphosis--is a
+secondary detail and, for that matter, familiar. It is a dry subject
+and I shall deal with it briefly. About the end of May, I exhume a
+Brown Rat, buried by the grave-diggers a fortnight earlier. Transformed
+into a black, sticky jelly, the horrible dish provides me with fifteen
+larvae, already, for the most part, of the normal size. A few adults,
+connections, assuredly, of the brood, are also stirring amid the
+infected mass. The period of hatching is over now; and food is
+plentiful. Having nothing else to do, the foster-parents have sat down
+to the feast with the nurselings.
+
+The undertakers are quick at rearing a family. It is at most a
+fortnight since the Rat was laid in the earth; and here already is a
+vigorous population on the verge of the metamorphosis. Such precocity
+amazes me. It would seem as though the liquefaction of carrion, deadly
+to any other stomach, is in this case a food productive of especial
+energy, which stimulates the organism and accelerates its growth, so
+that the victuals may be consumed before its approaching conversion
+into mould. Living chemistry makes haste to outstrip the ultimate
+reactions of mineral chemistry.
+
+White, naked, blind, possessing the habitual attributes of life in
+darkness, the larva, with its lanceolate outline, is slightly
+reminiscent of the grub of the Ground-beetle. The mandibles are black
+and powerful, making excellent scissors for dissection. The limbs are
+short, but capable of a quick, toddling gait. The segments of the
+abdomen are armoured on the upper surface with a narrow reddish plate,
+armed with four tiny spikes, whose office apparently is to furnish
+points of support when the larva quits the natal dwelling and dives
+into the soil, there to undergo the transformation. The thoracic
+segments are provided with wider plates, but unarmed.
+
+The adults discovered in the company of their larval family, in this
+putridity that was a Rat, are all abominably verminous. So shiny and
+neat in their attire, when at work under the first Moles of April, the
+Necrophori, when June approaches, become odious to look upon. A layer
+of parasites envelops them; insinuating itself into the joints, it
+forms an almost continuous surface. The insect presents a misshapen
+appearance under this overcoat of vermin, which my hair-pencil can
+hardly brush aside. Driven off the belly, the horde make the tour of
+the sufferer and encamp on his back, refusing to relinquish their hold.
+
+I recognize among them the Beetle's Gamasis, the Tick who so often
+soils the ventral amethyst of our Geotrupes. No; the prizes of life do
+not fall to the share of the useful. Necrophori and Geotrupes devote
+themselves to works of general salubrity; and these two corporations,
+so interesting in the accomplishment of their hygienic functions, so
+remarkable for their domestic morality, are given over to the vermin of
+poverty. Alas, of this discrepancy between the services rendered and
+the harshness of life there are many other examples outside the world
+of scavengers and undertakers!
+
+The Burying-beetles display an exemplary domestic morality, but it does
+not persist until the end. During the first fortnight of June, the
+family being sufficiently provided for, the sextons strike work and my
+cages are deserted, so far as the surface is concerned, in spite of new
+arrivals of Mice and Sparrows. From time to time some grave-digger
+leaves the subsoil and comes crawling languidly in the fresh air.
+
+Another rather curious fact now attracts my attention. All, as soon as
+they emerge from underground, are <DW36>s, whose limbs have been
+amputated at the joints, some higher up, some lower down. I see one
+mutilated Beetle who has only one leg left entire. With this odd limb
+and the stumps of the others lamentably tattered, scaly with vermin, he
+rows himself, as it were, over the dusty surface. A comrade emerges,
+one better off for legs, who finishes the <DW36> and cleans out his
+abdomen. So my thirteen remaining Necrophori end their days,
+half-devoured by their companions, or at least shorn of several limbs.
+The pacific relations of the outset are succeeded by cannibalism.
+
+History tells us that certain peoples, the Massagetae and others, used
+to kill their aged folk in order to spare them the miseries of
+senility. The fatal blow on the hoary skull was in their eyes an act of
+filial piety. The Necrophori have their share of these ancient
+barbarities. Full of days and henceforth useless, dragging out a weary
+existence, they mutually exterminate one another. Why prolong the agony
+of the impotent and the imbecile?
+
+The Massagetae might invoke, as an excuse for their atrocious custom, a
+dearth of provisions, which is an evil counsellor; not so the
+Necrophori, for, thanks to my generosity, victuals are superabundant,
+both beneath the soil and on the surface. Famine plays no part in this
+slaughter. Here we have the aberration of exhaustion, the morbid fury
+of a life on the point of extinction. As is generally the case, work
+bestows a peaceable disposition on the grave-digger, while inaction
+inspires him with perverted tastes. Having no longer anything to do, he
+breaks his fellow's limbs, eats him up, heedless of being mutilated or
+eaten up himself. This is the ultimate deliverance of verminous old
+age.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 6. THE BURYING-BEETLES: EXPERIMENTS.
+
+Let us proceed to the rational prowess which has earned for the
+Necrophorus the better part of his renown and, to begin with, let us
+submit the case related by Clairville--that of the too hard soil and
+the call for assistance--to experimental test.
+
+With this object in view, I pave the centre of the space beneath the
+cover, level with the soil, with a brick and sprinkle the latter with a
+thin layer of sand. This will be the soil in which digging is
+impracticable. All about it, for some distance and on the same level,
+spreads the loose soil, which is easy to dig.
+
+In order to approximate to the conditions of the little story, I must
+have a Mouse; with a Mole, a heavy mass, the work of removal would
+perhaps present too much difficulty. To obtain the Mouse I place my
+friends and neighbours under requisition; they laugh at my whim but
+none the less proffer their traps. Yet, the moment a Mouse is needed,
+that very common animal becomes rare. Braving decorum in his speech,
+which follows the Latin of his ancestors, the Provencal says, but even
+more crudely than in my translation: "If you look for dung, the Asses
+become constipated!"
+
+At last I possess the Mouse of my dreams! She comes to me from that
+refuge, furnished with a truss of straw, in which official charity
+gives the hospitality of a day to the beggar wandering over the face of
+the fertile earth; from that municipal hostel whence one invariably
+emerges verminous. O Reaumur, who used to invite marquises to see your
+caterpillars change their skins, what would you have said of a future
+disciple conversant with such wretchedness as this? Perhaps it is well
+that we should not be ignorant of it, so that we may take compassion on
+the sufferings of beasts.
+
+The Mouse so greatly desired is mine. I place her upon the centre of
+the brick. The grave-diggers under the wire cover are now seven in
+number, of whom three are females. All have gone to earth: some are
+inactive, close to the surface; the rest are busy in their crypts. The
+presence of the fresh corpse is promptly perceived. About seven o'clock
+in the morning, three Necrophori hurry up, two males and a female. They
+slip under the Mouse, who moves in jerks, a sign of the efforts of the
+burying-party. An attempt is made to dig into the layer of sand which
+hides the brick, so that a bank of sand accumulates about the body.
+
+For a couple of hours the jerks continue without results. I profit by
+the circumstance to investigate the manner in which the work is
+performed. The bare brick allows me to see what the excavated soil
+concealed from me. If it is necessary to move the body, the Beetle
+turns over; with his six claws he grips the hair of the dead animal,
+props himself upon his back and pushes, making a lever of his head and
+the tip of his abdomen. If digging is required, he resumes the normal
+position. So, turn and turn about, the sexton strives, now with his
+claws in the air, when it is a question of shifting the body or
+dragging it lower down; now with his feet on the ground, when it is
+necessary to deepen the grave.
+
+The point at which the Mouse lies is finally recognized as
+unassailable. A male appears in the open. He explores the specimen,
+goes the round of it, scratches a little at random. He goes back; and
+immediately the body rocks. Is he advising his collaborators of what he
+has discovered? Is he arranging matters with a view to their
+establishing themselves elsewhere, on propitious soil?
+
+The facts are far from confirming this idea. When he shakes the body,
+the others imitate him and push, but without combining their efforts in
+a given direction, for, after advancing a little towards the edge of
+the brick, the burden goes back again, returning to the point of
+departure. In the absence of any concerted understanding, their efforts
+of leverage are wasted. Nearly three hours are occupied by oscillations
+which mutually annul one another. The Mouse does not cross the little
+sand-hill heaped about it by the rakes of the workers.
+
+For the second time a male emerges and makes a round of exploration. A
+bore is made in workable earth, close beside the brick. This is a trial
+excavation, to reveal the nature of the soil; a narrow well, of no
+great depth, into which the insect plunges to half its length. The
+well-sinker returns to the other workers, who arch their backs, and the
+load progresses a finger's-breadth towards the point recognized as
+favourable. Have they done the trick this time? No, for after a while
+the Mouse recoils. No progress towards a solution of the difficulty.
+
+Now two males come out in search of information, each of his own
+accord. Instead of stopping at the point already sounded, a point most
+judiciously chosen, it seemed, on account of its proximity, which would
+save laborious transportation, they precipitately scour the whole area
+of the cage, sounding the soil on this side and on that and ploughing
+superficial furrows in it. They get as far from the brick as the limits
+of the enclosure permit.
+
+They dig, by preference, against the base of the cover; here they make
+several borings, without any reason, so far as I can see, the bed of
+soil being everywhere equally assailable away from the brick; the first
+point sounded is abandoned for a second, which is rejected in its turn.
+A third and a fourth are tried; then another and yet another. At the
+sixth point the selection is made. In all these cases the excavation is
+by no means a grave destined to receive the Mouse, but a mere trial
+boring, of inconsiderable depth, its diameter being that of the
+digger's body.
+
+A return is made to the Mouse, who suddenly quivers, oscillates,
+advances, recoils, first in one direction, then in another, until in
+the end the little hillock of sand is crossed. Now we are free of the
+brick and on excellent soil. Little by little the load advances. This
+is no cartage by a team hauling in the open, but a jerky displacement,
+the work of invisible levers. The body seems to move of its own accord.
+
+This time, after so many hesitations, their efforts are concerted; at
+all events, the load reaches the region sounded far more rapidly than I
+expected. Then begins the burial, according to the usual method. It is
+one o'clock. The Necrophori have allowed the hour-hand of the clock to
+go half round the dial while verifying the condition of the surrounding
+spots and displacing the Mouse.
+
+In this experiment it appears at the outset that the males play a major
+part in the affairs of the household. Better-equipped, perhaps, than
+their mates, they make investigations when a difficulty occurs; they
+inspect the soil, recognize whence the check arises and choose the
+point at which the grave shall be made. In the lengthy experiment of
+the brick, the two males alone explored the surroundings and set to
+work to solve the difficulty. Confiding in their assistance, the
+female, motionless beneath the Mouse, awaited the result of their
+investigations. The tests which are to follow will confirm the merits
+of these valiant auxiliaries.
+
+In the second place, the point where the Mouse lay being recognized as
+presenting an insurmountable resistance, there was no grave dug in
+advance, a little farther off, in the light soil. All attempts were
+limited, I repeat, to shallow soundings which informed the insect of
+the possibility of inhumation.
+
+It is absolute nonsense to speak of their first preparing the grave to
+which the body will afterwards be carted. To excavate the soil, our
+grave-diggers must feel the weight of their dead on their backs. They
+work only when stimulated by the contact of its fur. Never, never in
+this world do they venture to dig a grave unless the body to be buried
+already occupies the site of the cavity. This is absolutely confirmed
+by my two and a half months and more of daily observations.
+
+The rest of Clairville's anecdote bears examination no better. We are
+told that the Necrophorus in difficulties goes in search of assistance
+and returns with companions who assist him to bury the Mouse. This, in
+another form, is the edifying story of the Sacred Beetle whose pellet
+had rolled into a rut, powerless to withdraw his treasure from the
+gulf, the wily Dung-beetle called together three or four of his
+neighbours, who benevolently recovered the pellet, returning to their
+labours after the work of salvage.
+
+The exploit--so ill-interpreted--of the thieving pill-roller sets me on
+my guard against that of the undertaker. Shall I be too exigent if I
+enquire what precautions the observer adopted to recognize the owner of
+the Mouse on his return, when he reappears, as we are told, with four
+assistants? What sign denotes that one of the five who was able, in so
+rational a manner, to appeal for help? Can one even be sure that the
+one to disappear returns and forms one of the band? There is nothing to
+indicate it; and this was the essential point which a sterling observer
+was bound not to neglect. Were they not rather five chance Necrophori
+who, guided by the smell, without any previous understanding, hastened
+to the abandoned Mouse to exploit her on their own account? I incline
+to this opinion, the most likely of all in the absence of exact
+information.
+
+Probability becomes certainty if we submit the case to the verification
+of experiment. The test with the brick already gives us some
+information. For six hours my three specimens exhausted themselves in
+efforts before they got to the length of removing their booty and
+placing it on practicable soil. In this long and heavy task helpful
+neighbours would have been anything but unwelcome. Four other
+Necrophori, buried here and there under a little sand, comrades and
+acquaintances, helpers of the day before, were occupying the same cage;
+and not one of those concerned thought of summoning them to give
+assistance. Despite their extreme embarrassment, the owners of the
+Mouse accomplished their task to the end, without the least help,
+though this could have been so easily requisitioned.
+
+Being three, one might say, they considered themselves sufficiently
+strong; they needed no one else to lend them a hand. The objection does
+not hold good. On many occasions and under conditions even more
+difficult than those presented by a stony soil, I have again and again
+seen isolated Necrophori exhausting themselves in striving against my
+artifices; yet not once did they leave their work to recruit helpers.
+Collaborators, it is true, did often arrive, but they were convoked by
+their sense of smell, not by the first possessor. They were fortuitous
+helpers; they were never called in. They were welcomed without
+disagreement, but also without gratitude. They were not summoned; they
+were tolerated. In the glazed shelter where I keep the cage I happened
+to catch one of these chance assistants in the act. Passing that way in
+the night and scenting dead flesh, he had entered where none of his
+kind had yet penetrated of his own free will. I surprised him on the
+wire-gauze dome of the cover. If the wire had not prevented him, he
+would have set to work incontinently, in company with the rest. Had my
+captives invited him? Assuredly not. He had hastened thither attracted
+by the odour of the Mole, heedless of the efforts of others. So it was
+with those whose obliging assistance is extolled. I repeat, in respect
+of their imaginary prowess, what I have said elsewhere of that of the
+Sacred Beetles: the story is a childish one, worthy of ranking with any
+fairy-tale written for the amusement of the simple.
+
+A hard soil, necessitating the removal of the body, is not the only
+difficulty familiar to the Necrophori. Often, perhaps more often than
+not, the ground is covered with grass, above all with couch-grass,
+whose tenacious rootlets form an inextricable network below the
+surface. To dig in the interstices is possible, but to drag the dead
+animal through them is another matter: the meshes of the net are too
+close to give it passage. Will the grave-digger find himself reduced to
+impotence by such an impediment, which must be an extremely common one?
+That could not be.
+
+Exposed to this or that habitual obstacle in the exercise of his
+calling, the animal is always equipped accordingly; otherwise his
+profession would be impracticable. No end is attained without the
+necessary means and aptitudes. Besides that of the excavator, the
+Necrophorus certainly possesses another art: the art of breaking the
+cables, the roots, the stolons, the slender rhizomes which check the
+body's descent into the grave. To the work of the shovel and the pick
+must be added that of the shears. All this is perfectly logical and may
+be foreseen with complete lucidity. Nevertheless, let us invoke
+experiment, the best of witnesses.
+
+I borrow from the kitchen-range an iron trivet whose legs will supply a
+solid foundation for the engine which I am devising. This is a coarse
+network of strips of raphia, a fairly accurate imitation of the network
+of couch-grass roots. The very irregular meshes are nowhere wide enough
+to admit of the passage of the creature to be buried, which in this
+case is a Mole. The trivet is planted with its three feet in the soil
+of the cage; its top is level with the surface of the soil. A little
+sand conceals the meshes. The Mole is placed in the centre; and my
+squad of sextons is let loose upon the body.
+
+Without a hitch the burial is accomplished in the course of an
+afternoon. The hammock of raphia, almost equivalent to the natural
+network of couch-grass turf, scarcely disturbs the process of
+inhumation. Matters do not go forward quite so quickly; and that is
+all. No attempt is made to shift the Mole, who sinks into the ground
+where he lies. The operation completed, I remove the trivet. The
+network is broken at the spot where the corpse lay. A few strips have
+been gnawed through; a small number, only so many as were strictly
+necessary to permit the passage of the body.
+
+Well done, my undertakers! I expected no less of your savoir-faire. You
+have foiled the artifices of the experimenter by employing your
+resources against natural obstacles. With mandibles for shears, you
+have patiently cut my threads as you would have gnawed the cordage of
+the grass-roots. This is meritorious, if not deserving of exceptional
+glorification. The most limited of the insects which work in earth
+would have done as much if subjected to similar conditions.
+
+Let us ascend a stage in the series of difficulties. The Mole is now
+fixed with a lashing of raphia fore and aft to a light horizontal
+cross-bar which rests on two firmly-planted forks. It is like a joint
+of venison on a spit, though rather oddly fastened. The dead animal
+touches the ground throughout the length of its body.
+
+The Necrophori disappear under the corpse, and, feeling the contact of
+its fur, begin to dig. The grave grows deeper and an empty space
+appears, but the coveted object does not descend, retained as it is by
+the cross-bar which the two forks keep in place. The digging slackens,
+the hesitations become prolonged.
+
+However, one of the grave-diggers ascends to the surface, wanders over
+the Mole, inspects him and ends by perceiving the hinder strap.
+Tenaciously he gnaws and ravels it. I hear the click of the shears that
+completes the rupture. Crack! The thing is done. Dragged down by his
+own weight, the Mole sinks into the grave, but slantwise, with his head
+still outside, kept in place by the second ligature.
+
+The Beetles proceed to the burial of the hinder part of the Mole; they
+twitch and jerk it now in this direction, now in that. Nothing comes of
+it; the thing refuses to give. A fresh sortie is made by one of them to
+discover what is happening overhead. The second ligature is perceived,
+is severed in turn, and henceforth the work proceeds as well as could
+be desired.
+
+My compliments, perspicacious cable-cutters! But I must not exaggerate.
+The lashings of the Mole were for you the little cords with which you
+are so familiar in turfy soil. You have severed them, as well as the
+hammock of the previous experiment, just as you sever with the blades
+of your shears any natural filament which stretches across your
+catacombs. It is, in your calling, an indispensable knack. If you had
+had to learn it by experience, to think it out before practising it,
+your race would have disappeared, killed by the hesitations of its
+apprenticeship, for the spots fertile in Moles, Frogs, Lizards and
+other victuals to your taste are usually grass-covered.
+
+You are capable of far better things yet; but, before proceeding to
+these, let us examine the case when the ground bristles with slender
+brushwood, which holds the corpse at a short distance from the ground.
+Will the find thus suspended by the hazard of its fall remain
+unemployed? Will the Necrophori pass on, indifferent to the superb
+tit-bit which they see and smell a few inches above their heads, or
+will they make it descend from its gibbet?
+
+Game does not abound to such a point that it can be disdained if a few
+efforts will obtain it. Before I see the thing happen I am persuaded
+that it will fall, that the Necrophori, often confronted by the
+difficulties of a body which is not lying on the soil, must possess the
+instinct to shake it to the ground. The fortuitous support of a few
+bits of stubble, of a few interlaced brambles, a thing so common in the
+fields, should not be able to baffle them. The overthrow of the
+suspended body, if placed too high, should certainly form part of their
+instinctive methods. For the rest, let us watch them at work.
+
+I plant in the sand of the cage a meagre tuft of thyme. The shrub is at
+most some four inches in height. In the branches I place a Mouse,
+entangling the tail, the paws and the neck among the twigs in order to
+increase the difficulty. The population of the cage now consists of
+fourteen Necrophori and will remain the same until the close of my
+investigations. Of course they do not all take part simultaneously in
+the day's work; the majority remain underground, somnolent, or occupied
+in setting their cellars in order. Sometimes only one, often two, three
+or four, rarely more, busy themselves with the dead creature which I
+offer them. To-day two hasten to the Mouse, who is soon perceived
+overhead in the tuft of thyme.
+
+They gain the summit of the plant by way of the wire trellis of the
+cage. Here are repeated, with increased hesitation, due to the
+inconvenient nature of the support, the tactics employed to remove the
+body when the soil is unfavourable. The insect props itself against a
+branch, thrusting alternately with back and claws, jerking and shaking
+vigorously until the point where at it is working is freed from its
+fetters. In one brief shift, by dint of heaving their backs, the two
+collaborators extricate the body from the entanglement of twigs. Yet
+another shake; and the Mouse is down. The burial follows.
+
+There is nothing new in this experiment; the find has been dealt with
+just as though it lay upon soil unsuitable for burial. The fall is the
+result of an attempt to transport the load.
+
+The time has come to set up the Frog's gibbet celebrated by Gledditsch.
+The batrachian is not indispensable; a Mole will serve as well or even
+better. With a ligament of raphia I fix him, by his hind-legs, to a
+twig which I plant vertically in the ground, inserting it to no great
+depth. The creature hangs plumb against the gibbet, its head and
+shoulders making ample contact with the soil.
+
+The gravediggers set to work beneath the part which lies upon the
+ground, at the very foot of the stake; they dig a funnel-shaped hole,
+into which the muzzle, the head and the neck of the mole sink little by
+little. The gibbet becomes uprooted as they sink and eventually falls,
+dragged over by the weight of its heavy burden. I am assisting at the
+spectacle of the overturned stake, one of the most astonishing examples
+of rational accomplishment which has ever been recorded to the credit
+of the insect.
+
+This, for one who is considering the problem of instinct, is an
+exciting moment. But let us beware of forming conclusions as yet; we
+might be in too great a hurry. Let us ask ourselves first whether the
+fall of the stake was intentional or fortuitous. Did the Necrophori lay
+it bare with the express intention of causing it to fall? Or did they,
+on the contrary, dig at its base solely in order to bury that part of
+the mole which lay on the ground? that is the question, which, for the
+rest, is very easy to answer.
+
+The experiment is repeated; but this time the gibbet is slanting and
+the Mole, hanging in a vertical position, touches the ground at a
+couple of inches from the base of the gibbet. Under these conditions
+absolutely no attempt is made to overthrow the latter. Not the least
+scrape of a claw is delivered at the foot of the gibbet. The entire
+work of excavation is accomplished at a distance, under the body, whose
+shoulders are lying on the ground. There--and there only--a hole is dug
+to receive the free portion of the body, the part accessible to the
+sextons.
+
+A difference of an inch in the position of the suspended animal
+annihilates the famous legend. Even so, many a time, the most
+elementary sieve, handled with a little logic, is enough to winnow the
+confused mass of affirmations and to release the good grain of truth.
+
+Yet another shake of the sieve. The gibbet is oblique or vertical
+indifferently; but the Mole, always fixed by a hinder limb to the top
+of the twig, does not touch the soil; he hangs a few fingers'-breadths
+from the ground, out of the sextons' reach.
+
+What will the latter do? Will they scrape at the foot of the gibbet in
+order to overturn it? By no means; and the ingenuous observer who
+looked for such tactics would be greatly disappointed. No attention is
+paid to the base of the support. It is not vouchsafed even a stroke of
+the rake. Nothing is done to overturn it, nothing, absolutely nothing!
+It is by other methods that the Burying-beetles obtain the Mole.
+
+These decisive experiments, repeated under many different forms, prove
+that never, never in this world do the Necrophori dig, or even give a
+superficial scrape, at the foot of the gallows, unless the hanging body
+touch the ground at that point. And, in the latter case, if the twig
+should happen to fall, its fall is in nowise an intentional result, but
+a mere fortuitous effect of the burial already commenced.
+
+What, then, did the owner of the Frog of whom Gledditsch tells us
+really see? If his stick was overturned, the body placed to dry beyond
+the assaults of the Necrophori must certainly have touched the soil: a
+strange precaution against robbers and the damp! We may fittingly
+attribute more foresight to the preparer of dried Frogs and allow him
+to hang the creature some inches from the ground. In this case all my
+experiments emphatically assert that the fall of the stake undermined
+by the sextons is a pure matter of imagination.
+
+Yet another of the fine arguments in favour of the reasoning power of
+animals flies from the light of investigation and founders in the
+slough of error! I admire your simple faith, you masters who take
+seriously the statements of chance-met observers, richer in imagination
+than in veracity; I admire your credulous zeal, when, without
+criticism, you build up your theories on such absurdities.
+
+Let us proceed. The stake is henceforth planted vertically, but the
+body hanging on it does not reach the base: a condition which suffices
+to ensure that there is never any digging at this point. I make use of
+a Mouse, who, by reason of her trifling weight, will lend herself
+better to the insect's manoeuvres. The dead body is fixed by the
+hind-legs to the top of the stake with a ligature of raphia. It hangs
+plumb, in contact with the stick.
+
+Very soon two Necrophori have discovered the tit-bit. They climb up the
+miniature mast; they explore the body, dividing its fur by thrusts of
+the head. It is recognized to be an excellent find. So to work. Here we
+have again, but under far more difficult conditions, the tactics
+employed when it was necessary to displace the unfavourably situated
+body: the two collaborators slip between the Mouse and the stake, when,
+taking a grip of the latter and exerting a leverage with their backs,
+they jerk and shake the body, which oscillates, twirls about, swings
+away from the stake and relapses. All the morning is passed in vain
+attempts, interrupted by explorations on the animal's body.
+
+In the afternoon the cause of the check is at last recognized; not very
+clearly, for in the first place the two obstinate riflers of the
+gallows attack the hind-legs of the Mouse, a little below the ligature.
+They strip them bare, flay them and cut away the flesh about the heel.
+They have reached the bone, when one of them finds the raphia beneath
+his mandibles. This, to him, is a familiar thing, representing the
+gramineous fibre so frequent in the case of burial in grass-covered
+soil. Tenaciously the shears gnaw at the bond; the vegetable fetter is
+severed and the Mouse falls, to be buried a little later.
+
+If it were isolated, this severance of the suspending tie would be a
+magnificent performance; but considered in connection with the sum of
+the Beetle's customary labours it loses all far-reaching significance.
+Before attacking the ligature, which was not concealed in any way, the
+insect exerted itself for a whole morning in shaking the body, its
+usual method. Finally, finding the cord, it severed it, as it would
+have severed a ligament of couch-grass encountered underground.
+
+Under the conditions devised for the Beetle, the use of the shears is
+the indispensable complement of the use of the shovel; and the modicum
+of discernment at his disposal is enough to inform him when the blades
+of his shears will be useful. He cuts what embarrasses him with no more
+exercise of reason than he displays when placing the corpse
+underground. So little does he grasp the connection between cause and
+effect that he strives to break the bone of the leg before gnawing at
+the bast which is knotted close beside him. The difficult task is
+attacked before the extremely simple.
+
+Difficult, yes, but not impossible, provided that the Mouse be young. I
+begin again with a ligature of iron wire, on which the shears of the
+insect can obtain no purchase, and a tender Mouselet, half the size of
+an adult. This time a tibia is gnawed through, cut in two by the
+Beetle's mandibles near the spring of the heel. The detached member
+leaves plenty of space for the other, which readily slips from the
+metallic band; and the little body falls to the ground.
+
+But, if the bone be too hard, if the body suspended be that of a Mole,
+an adult Mouse, or a Sparrow, the wire ligament opposes an
+insurmountable obstacle to the attempts of the Necrophori, who, for
+nearly a week, work at the hanging body, partly stripping it of fur or
+feather and dishevelling it until it forms a lamentable object, and at
+last abandon it, when desiccation sets in. A last resource, however,
+remains, one as rational as infallible. It is to overthrow the stake.
+Of course, not one dreams of doing so.
+
+For the last time let us change our artifices. The top of the gibbet
+consists of a little fork, with the prongs widely opened and measuring
+barely two-fifths of an inch in length. With a thread of hemp, less
+easily attacked than a strip of raphia, I bind together, a little above
+the heels, the hind-legs of an adult Mouse; and between the legs I slip
+one of the prongs of the fork. To make the body fall it is enough to
+slide it a little way upwards; it is like a young Rabbit hanging in the
+front of a poulterer's shop.
+
+Five Necrophori come to inspect my preparations. After a great deal of
+futile shaking, the tibiae are attacked. This, it seems, is the method
+usually employed when the body is retained by one of its limbs in some
+narrow fork of a low-growing plant. While trying to saw through the
+bone--a heavy job this time--one of the workers slips between the
+shackled limbs. So situated, he feels against his back the furry touch
+of the Mouse. Nothing more is needed to arouse his propensity to thrust
+with his back. With a few heaves of the lever the thing is done; the
+Mouse rises a little, slides over the supporting peg and falls to the
+ground.
+
+Is this manoeuvre really thought out? Has the insect indeed perceived,
+by the light of a flash of reason, that in order to make the tit-bit
+fall it was necessary to unhook it by sliding it along the peg? Has it
+really perceived the mechanism of suspension? I know some
+persons--indeed, I know many--who, in the presence of this magnificent
+result, would be satisfied without further investigation.
+
+More difficult to convince, I modify the experiment before drawing a
+conclusion. I suspect that the Necrophorus, without any prevision of
+the consequences of his action, heaved his back simply because he felt
+the legs of the creature above him. With the system of suspension
+adopted, the push of the back, employed in all cases of difficulty, was
+brought to bear first upon the point of support; and the fall resulted
+from this happy coincidence. That point, which has to be slipped along
+the peg in order to unhook the object, ought really to be situated at a
+short distance from the Mouse, so that the Necrophori shall no longer
+feel her directly against their backs when they push.
+
+A piece of wire binds together now the tarsi of a Sparrow, now the
+heels of a Mouse and is bent, at a distance of three-quarters of an
+inch or so, into a little ring, which slips very loosely over one of
+the prongs of the fork, a short, almost horizontal prong. To make the
+hanging body fall, the slightest thrust upon this ring is sufficient;
+and, owing to its projection from the peg, it lends itself excellently
+to the insect's methods. In short, the arrangement is the same as it
+was just now, with this difference, that the point of support is at a
+short distance from the suspended animal.
+
+My trick, simple though it be, is fully successful. For a long time the
+body is repeatedly shaken, but in vain; the tibiae or tarsi, unduly
+hard, refuse to yield to the patient saw. Sparrows and Mice grow dry
+and shrivelled, unused, upon the gibbet. Sooner in one case, later in
+another, my Necrophori abandon the insoluble problem in mechanics: to
+push, ever so little, the movable support and so to unhook the coveted
+carcass.
+
+Curious reasoners, in faith! If they had had, but now, a lucid idea of
+the mutual relations between the shackled limbs and the suspending peg;
+if they had made the Mouse fall by a reasoned manoeuvre, whence comes
+it that the present artifice, no less simple than the first, is to them
+an insurmountable obstacle? For days and days they work on the body,
+examine it from head to foot, without becoming aware of the movable
+support, the cause of their misadventure. In vain do I prolong my
+watch; never do I see a single one of them push it with his foot or
+butt it with his head.
+
+Their defeat is not due to lack of strength. Like the Geotrupes, they
+are vigorous excavators. Grasped in the closed hand, they insinuate
+themselves through the interstices of the fingers and plough up your
+skin in a fashion to make you very quickly loose your hold. With his
+head, a robust ploughshare, the Beetle might very easily push the ring
+off its short support. He is not able to do so because he does not
+think of it; he does not think of it because he is devoid of the
+faculty attributed to him, in order to support its thesis, by the
+dangerous prodigality of transformism.
+
+Divine reason, sun of the intellect, what a clumsy slap in thy august
+countenance, when the glorifiers of the animal degrade thee with such
+dullness!
+
+Let us now examine under another aspect the mental obscurity of the
+Necrophori. My captives are not so satisfied with their sumptuous
+lodging that they do not seek to escape, especially when there is a
+dearth of labour, that sovran consoler of the afflicted, man or beast.
+Internment within the wire cover palls upon them. So, the Mole buried
+and all in order in the cellar, they stray uneasily over the wire-gauze
+of the dome; they clamber up, descend, ascend again and take to flight,
+a flight which instantly becomes a fall, owing to collision with the
+wire grating. They pick themselves up and begin again. The sky is
+superb; the weather is hot, calm and propitious for those in search of
+the Lizard crushed beside the footpath. Perhaps the effluvia of the
+gamy tit-bit have reached them, coming from afar, imperceptible to any
+other sense than that of the Sexton-beetles. So my Necrophori are fain
+to go their ways.
+
+Can they? Nothing would be easier if a glimmer of reason were to aid
+them. Through the wire network, over which they have so often strayed,
+they have seen, outside, the free soil, the promised land which they
+long to reach. A hundred times if once have they dug at the foot of the
+rampart. There, in vertical wells, they take up their station, drowsing
+whole days on end while unemployed. If I give them a fresh Mole, they
+emerge from their retreat by the entrance corridor and come to hide
+themselves beneath the belly of the beast. The burial over, they
+return, one here, one there, to the confines of the enclosure and
+disappear beneath the soil.
+
+Well, in two and a half months of captivity, despite long stays at the
+base of the trellis, at a depth of three-quarters of an inch beneath
+the surface, it is rare indeed for a Necrophorus to succeed in
+circumventing the obstacle, to prolong his excavation beneath the
+barrier, to make an elbow in it and to bring it out on the other side,
+a trifling task for these vigorous creatures. Of fourteen only one
+succeeded in escaping.
+
+A chance deliverance and not premeditated; for, if the happy event had
+been the result of a mental combination, the other prisoners,
+practically his equals in powers of perception, would all, from first
+to last, discover by rational means the elbowed path leading to the
+outer world; and the cage would promptly be deserted. The failure of
+the great majority proves that the single fugitive was simply digging
+at random. Circumstances favoured him; and that is all. Do not let us
+make it a merit that he succeeded where all the others failed.
+
+Let us also beware of attributing to the Necrophori an understanding
+more limited than is usual in entomological psychology. I find the
+ineptness of the undertaker in all the insects reared under the wire
+cover, on the bed of sand into which the rim of the dome sinks a little
+way. With very rare exceptions, fortuitous accidents, no insect has
+thought of circumventing the barrier by way of the base; none has
+succeeded in gaining the exterior by means of a slanting tunnel, not
+even though it were a miner by profession, as are the Dung-beetles par
+excellence. Captives under the wire dome, but desirous of escape,
+Sacred Beetles, Geotrupes, Copres, Gymnopleuri, Sisyphi, all see about
+them the freedom of space, the joys of the open sunlight; and not one
+thinks of going round under the rampart, a front which would present no
+difficulty to their pick-axes.
+
+Even in the higher ranks of animality, examples of similar mental
+obfuscation are not lacking. Audubon relates how, in his days, the wild
+Turkeys were caught in North America.
+
+In a clearing known to be frequented by these birds, a great cage was
+constructed with stakes driven into the ground. In the centre of the
+enclosure opened a short tunnel, which dipped under the palisade and
+returned to the surface outside the cage by a gentle <DW72>, which was
+open to the sky. The central opening, large enough to give a bird free
+passage, occupied only a portion of the enclosure, leaving around it,
+against the circle of stakes, a wide unbroken zone. A few handfuls of
+maize were scattered in the interior of the trap, as well as round
+about it, and in particular along the sloping path, which passed under
+a sort of bridge and led to the centre of the contrivance. In short,
+the Turkey-trap presented an ever-open door. The bird found it in order
+to enter, but did not think of looking for it in order to return by it.
+
+According to the famous American ornithologist, the Turkeys, lured by
+the grains of maize, descended the insidious <DW72>, entered the short
+underground passage and beheld, at the end of it, plunder and the
+light. A few steps farther and the gluttons emerged, one by one, from
+beneath the bridge. They distributed themselves about the enclosure.
+The maize was abundant; and the Turkeys' crops grew swollen.
+
+When all was gathered, the band wished to retreat, but not one of the
+prisoners paid any attention to the central hole by which he had
+arrived. Gobbling uneasily, they passed again and again across the
+bridge whose arch was yawning beside them; they circled round against
+the palisade, treading a hundred times in their own footprints; they
+thrust their necks, with their crimson wattles, through the bars; and
+there, with beaks in the open air, they remained until they were
+exhausted.
+
+Remember, inept fowl, the occurrences of a little while ago; think of
+the tunnel which led you hither! If there be in that poor brain of
+yours an atom of capacity, put two ideas together and remind yourself
+that the passage by which you entered is there and open for your
+escape! You will do nothing of the kind. The light, an irresistible
+attraction, holds you subjugated against the palisade; and the shadow
+of the yawning pit, which has but lately permitted you to enter and
+will quite as readily permit of your exit, leaves you indifferent. To
+recognize the use of this opening you would have to reflect a little,
+to evolve the past; but this tiny retrospective calculation is beyond
+your powers. So the trapper, returning a few days later, will find a
+rich booty, the entire flock imprisoned!
+
+Of poor intellectual repute, does the Turkey deserve his name for
+stupidity? He does not appear to be more limited than another. Audubon
+depicts him as endowed with certain useful ruses, in particular when he
+has to baffle the attacks of his nocturnal enemy, the Virginian Owl. As
+for his actions in the snare with the underground passage, any other
+bird, impassioned of the light, would do the same.
+
+Under rather more difficult conditions, the Necrophorus repeats the
+ineptness of the Turkey. When he wishes to return to the open daylight,
+after resting in a short burrow against the rim of the wire cover, the
+Beetle, seeing a little light filtering down through the loose soil,
+reascends by the path of entry, incapable of telling himself that it
+would suffice to prolong the tunnel as far in the opposite direction
+for him to reach the outer world beyond the wall and gain his freedom.
+Here again is one in whom we shall seek in vain for any indication of
+reflection. Like the rest, in spite of his legendary renown, he has no
+guide but the unconscious promptings of instinct.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 7. THE BLUEBOTTLE.
+
+To purge the earth of death's impurities and cause deceased animal
+matter to be once more numbered among the treasures of life there are
+hosts of sausage-queens, including, in our part of the world, the
+Bluebottle (Calliphora vomitaria, Lin.) and the Grey Flesh-fly
+(Sarcophaga carnaria, Lin.) Every one knows the first, the big,
+dark-blue Fly who, after effecting her designs in the ill-watched
+meat-safe, settles on our window-panes and keeps up a solemn buzzing,
+anxious to be off in the sun and ripen a fresh emission of germs. How
+does she lay her eggs, the origin of the loathsome maggot that battens
+poisonously on our provisions whether of game or butcher's meat? What
+are her stratagems and how can we foil them? This is what I propose to
+investigate.
+
+The Bluebottle frequents our homes during autumn and a part of winter,
+until the cold becomes severe; but her appearance in the fields dates
+back much earlier. On the first fine day in February, we shall see her
+warming herself, chillily, against the sunny walls. In April, I notice
+her in considerable numbers on the laurustinus. It is here that she
+seems to pair, while sipping the sugary exudations of the small white
+flowers. The whole of the summer season is spent out of doors, in brief
+flights from one refreshment-bar to the next. When autumn comes, with
+its game, she makes her way into our houses and remains until the hard
+frosts.
+
+This suits my stay-at-home habits and especially my legs, which are
+bending under the weight of years. I need not run after the subjects of
+my present study; they call on me. Besides, I have vigilant assistants.
+The household knows of my plans. One and all bring me, in a little
+screw of paper, the noisy visitor just captured against the panes.
+
+Thus do I fill my vivarium, which consists of a large, bell-shaped cage
+of wire-gauze, standing in an earthenware pan full of sand. A mug
+containing honey is the dining-room of the establishment. Here the
+captives come to recruit themselves in their hours of leisure. To
+occupy their maternal cares, I employ small birds--Chaffinches,
+Linnets, Sparrows--brought down, in the enclosure, by my son's gun.
+
+I have just served up a Linnet shot two days ago. I next place in the
+cage a Bluebottle, one only, to avoid confusion. Her fat belly
+proclaims the advent of laying-time. An hour later, when the excitement
+of being put in prison is allayed, my captive is in labour. With eager,
+jerky steps, she explores the morsel of game, goes from the head to the
+tail, returns from the tail to the head, repeats the action several
+times and at last settles near an eye, a dimmed eye sunk into its
+socket.
+
+The ovipositor bends at a right angle and dives into the junction of
+the beak, straight down to the root. Then the eggs are emitted for
+nearly half an hour. The layer, utterly absorbed in her serious
+business, remains stationary and impassive and is easily observed
+through my lens. A movement on my part would doubtless scare her; but
+my restful presence gives her no anxiety. I am nothing to her.
+
+The discharge does not go on continuously until the ovaries are
+exhausted; it is intermittent and performed in so many packets. Several
+times over, the Fly leaves the bird's beak and comes to take a rest
+upon the wire-gauze, where she brushes her hind-legs one against the
+other. In particular, before using it again, she cleans, smooths and
+polishes her laying-tool, the probe that places the eggs. Then, feeling
+her womb still teeming, she returns to the same spot at the joint of
+the beak. The delivery is resumed, to cease presently and then begin
+anew. A couple of hours are thus spent in alternate standing near the
+eye and resting on the wire-gauze.
+
+At last it is over. The Fly does not go back to the bird, a proof that
+her ovaries are exhausted. The next day she is dead. The eggs are
+dabbed in a continuous layer, at the entrance to the throat, at the
+root of the tongue, on the membrane of the palate. Their number appears
+considerable; the whole inside of the gullet is white with them. I fix
+a little wooden prop between the two mandibles of the beak, to keep
+them open and enable me to see what happens.
+
+I learn in this way that the hatching takes place in a couple of days.
+As soon as they are born, the young vermin, a swarming mass, leave the
+place where they are and disappear down the throat.
+
+The beak of the bird invaded was closed at the start, as far as the
+natural contact of the mandibles allowed. There remained a narrow slit
+at the base, sufficient at most to admit the passage of a horse-hair.
+It was through this that the laying was performed. Lengthening her
+ovipositor like a telescope, the mother inserted the point of her
+implement, a point slightly hardened with a horny armour. The fineness
+of the probe equals the fineness of the aperture. But, if the beak were
+entirely closed, where would the eggs be laid then?
+
+With a tied thread I keep the two mandibles in absolute contact; and I
+place a second Bluebottle in the presence of the Linnet, whom the
+colonists have already entered by the beak. This time the laying takes
+place on one of the eyes, between the lid and the eyeball. At the
+hatching, which again occurs a couple of days later, the grubs make
+their way into the fleshy depths of the socket. The eyes and the beak,
+therefore, form the two chief entrances into feathered game.
+
+There are others; and these are the wounds. I cover the Linnet's head
+with a paper hood which will prevent invasion through the beak and
+eyes. I serve it, under the wire-gauze bell, to a third egg-layer. The
+bird has been struck by a shot in the breast, but the sore is not
+bleeding: no outer stain marks the injured spot. Moreover, I am careful
+to arrange the feathers, to smooth them with a hair-pencil, so that the
+bird looks quite smart and has every appearance of being untouched.
+
+The Fly is soon there. She inspects the Linnet from end to end; with
+her front tarsi she fumbles at the breast and belly. It is a sort of
+auscultation by sense of touch. The insect becomes aware of what is
+under the feathers by the manner in which these react. If scent lends
+its assistance, it can only be very slightly, for the game is not yet
+high. The wound is soon found. No drop of blood is near it, for it is
+closed by a plug of down rammed into it by the shot. The Fly takes up
+her position without separating the feathers or uncovering the wound.
+She remains here for two hours without stirring, motionless, with her
+abdomen concealed beneath the plumage. My eager curiosity does not
+distract her from her business for a moment.
+
+When she has finished, I take her place. There is nothing either on the
+skin or at the mouth of the wound. I have to withdraw the downy plug
+and dig to some depth before discovering the eggs. The ovipositor has
+therefore lengthened its extensible tube and pushed beyond the feather
+stopper driven in by the lead. The eggs are in one packet; they number
+about three hundred.
+
+When the beak and eyes are rendered inaccessible, when the body,
+moreover, has no wounds, the laying still takes place, but this time in
+a hesitating and niggardly fashion. I pluck the bird completely, the
+better to watch what happens; also, I cover the head with a paper hood
+to close the usual means of access. For a long time, with jerky steps,
+the mother explores the body in every direction; she takes her stand by
+preference on the head, which she sounds by tapping on it with her
+front tarsi. She knows that the openings which she needs are there,
+under the paper; but she also knows how frail are her grubs, how
+powerless to pierce their way through the strange obstacle which stops
+her as well and interferes with the work of her ovipositor. The cowl
+inspires her with profound distrust. Despite the tempting bait of the
+veiled head, not an egg is laid on the wrapper, slight though it may
+be.
+
+Weary of vain attempts to compass this obstacle, the Fly at last
+decides in favour of other points, but not on the breast, belly, or
+back, where the hide would seem too tough and the light too intrusive.
+She needs dark hiding-places, corners where the skin is very delicate.
+The spots chosen are the cavity of the axilla, corresponding with our
+arm-pit, and the crease where the thigh joins the belly. Eggs are laid
+in both places, but not many, showing that the groin and the axilla are
+adopted only reluctantly and for lack of a better spot.
+
+With an unplucked bird, also hooded, the same experiment failed: the
+feathers prevent the Fly from slipping into those deep places. Let us
+add, in conclusion, that, on a skinned bird, or simply on a piece of
+butcher's meat, the laying is effected on any part whatever, provided
+that it be dark. The gloomiest corners are the favourite ones.
+
+It follows from all this that, to lay her eggs, the Bluebottle picks
+out either naked wounds or else the mucous membranes of the mouth or
+eyes, which are not protected by a skin of any thickness. She also
+needs darkness.
+
+The perfect efficiency of the paper bag, which prevents the inroads of
+the worms through the eye-sockets or the beak, suggests a similar
+experiment with the whole bird. It is a matter of wrapping the body in
+a sort of artificial skin which will be as discouraging to the Fly as
+the natural skin. Linnets, some with deep wounds, others almost intact,
+are placed one by one in paper envelopes similar to those in which the
+nursery-gardener keeps his seeds, envelopes just folded, without being
+stuck. The paper is quite ordinary and of middling thickness. Torn
+pieces of newspaper serve the purpose.
+
+These sheaths with the corpses inside them are freely exposed to the
+air, on the table in my study, where they are visited, according to the
+time of day, in dense shade and in bright sunlight. Attracted by the
+effluvia from the dead meat, the Bluebottles haunt my laboratory, the
+windows of which are always open. I see them daily alighting on the
+envelopes and very busily exploring them, apprised of the contents by
+the gamy smell. Their incessant coming and going is a sign of intense
+cupidity; and yet none of them decides to lay on the bags. They do not
+even attempt to slide their ovipositor through the slits of the folds.
+The favourable season passes and not an egg is laid on the tempting
+wrappers. All the mothers abstain, judging the slender obstacle of the
+paper to be more than the vermin will be able to overcome.
+
+This caution on the Fly's part does not at all surprise me: motherhood
+everywhere has great gleams of perspicacity. What does astonish me is
+the following result. The parcels containing the Linnets are left for a
+whole year uncovered on the table; they remain there for a second year
+and a third. I inspect the contents from time to time. The little birds
+are intact, with unrumpled feathers, free from smell, dry and light,
+like mummies. They have become not decomposed, but mummified.
+
+I expected to see them putrefying, running into sanies, like corpses
+left to rot in the open air. On the contrary, the birds have dried and
+hardened, without undergoing any change. What did they want for their
+putrefaction? simply the intervention of the Fly. The maggot,
+therefore, is the primary cause of dissolution after death; it is,
+above all, the putrefactive chemist.
+
+A conclusion not devoid of value may be drawn from my paper game-bags.
+In our markets, especially in those of the South, the game is hung
+unprotected from the hooks on the stalls. Larks strung up by the dozen
+with a wire through their nostrils, Thrushes, Plovers, Teal,
+Partridges, Snipe, in short, all the glories of the spit which the
+autumn migration brings us, remain for days and weeks at the mercy of
+the Flies. The buyer allows himself to be tempted by a goodly exterior;
+he makes his purchase and, back at home, just when the bird is being
+prepared for roasting, he discovers that the promised dainty is alive
+with worms. O horror! There is nothing for it but to throw the
+loathsome, verminous thing away.
+
+The Bluebottle is the culprit here. Everybody knows it, and nobody
+thinks seriously of shaking off her tyranny: not the retailer, nor the
+wholesale dealer, nor the killer of the game. What is wanted to keep
+the maggots out? Hardly anything: to slip each bird into a paper
+sheath. If this precaution were taken at the start, before the Flies
+arrive, any game would be safe and could be left indefinitely to attain
+the degree of ripeness required by the epicure's palate.
+
+Stuffed with olives and myrtleberries, the Corsican Blackbirds are
+exquisite eating. We sometimes receive them at Orange, layers of them,
+packed in baskets through which the air circulates freely and each
+contained in a paper wrapper. They are in a state of perfect
+preservation, complying with the most exacting demands of the kitchen.
+I congratulate the nameless shipper who conceived the bright idea of
+clothing his Blackbirds in paper. Will his example find imitators? I
+doubt it.
+
+There is, of course, a serious objection to this method of
+preservation. In its paper shroud, the article is invisible; it is not
+enticing; it does not inform the passer-by of its nature and qualities.
+There is one resource left which would leave the bird uncovered: simply
+to case the head in a paper cap. The head being the part most menaced,
+because of the mucous membrane of the throat and eyes, it would be
+enough, as a rule, to protect the head, in order to keep off the Flies
+and thwart their attempts.
+
+Let us continue to study the Bluebottle, while varying our means of
+information. A tin, about four inches deep, contains a piece of
+butcher's meat. The lid is not put in quite straight and leaves a
+narrow slit at one point of its circumference, allowing, at most, of
+the passage of a fine needle. When the bait begins to give off a gamy
+scent, the mothers come, singly or in numbers. They are attracted by
+the odour which, transmitted through a thin crevice, hardly reaches my
+nostrils.
+
+They explore the metal receptacle for some time, seeking an entrance.
+Finding naught that enables them to reach the coveted morsel, they
+decide to lay their eggs on the tin, just beside the aperture.
+Sometimes, when the width of the passage allows of it, they insert the
+ovipositor into the tin and lay the eggs inside, on the very edge of
+the slit. Whether outside or in, the eggs are dabbed down in a fairly
+regular and absolutely white layer.
+
+We have seen the Bluebottle refusing to lay her eggs on the paper bag,
+notwithstanding the carrion fumes of the Linnet enclosed; yet now,
+without hesitation, she lays them on a sheet of metal. Can the nature
+of the floor make any difference to her? I replace the tin lid by a
+paper cover stretched and pasted over the orifice. With the point of my
+knife I make a narrow slit in this new lid. That is quite enough: the
+parent accepts the paper.
+
+What determined her, therefore, is not simply the smell, which can
+easily be perceived even through the uncut paper, but, above all, the
+crevice, which will provide an entrance for the vermin, hatched
+outside, near the narrow passage. The maggots' mother has her own
+logic, her prudent foresight. She knows how feeble her wee grubs will
+be, how powerless to cut their way through an obstacle of any
+resistance; and so, despite the temptation of the smell, she refrains
+from laying, so long as she finds no entrance through which the
+new-born worms can slip unaided.
+
+I wanted to know whether the colour, the shininess, the degree of
+hardness and other qualities of the obstacle would influence the
+decision of a mother obliged to lay her eggs under exceptional
+conditions. With this object in view, I employed small jars, each
+baited with a bit of butcher's meat. The respective lids were made of
+different- paper, of oil-skin, or of some of that tin-foil,
+with its gold or coppery sheen, which is used for sealing
+liqueur-bottles. On not one of these covers did the mothers stop, with
+any desire to deposit their eggs; but, from the moment that the knife
+had made the narrow slit, all the lids were, sooner or later, visited
+and all, sooner or later, received the white shower somewhere near the
+gash. The look of the obstacle, therefore, does not count; dull or
+brilliant, drab or : these are details of no importance; the
+thing that matters is that there should be a passage to allow the grubs
+to enter.
+
+Though hatched outside, at a distance from the coveted morsel, the
+new-born worms are well able to find their refectory. As they release
+themselves from the egg, without hesitation, so accurate is their
+scent, they slip beneath the edge of the ill-joined lid, or through the
+passage cut by the knife. Behold them entering upon their promised
+land, their reeking paradise.
+
+Eager to arrive, do they drop from the top of the wall? Not they!
+Slowly creeping, they make their way down the side of the jar; they use
+their fore-part, ever in quest of information, as a crutch and grapnel
+in one. They reach the meat and at once instal themselves upon it.
+
+Let us continue our investigation, varying the conditions. A large
+test-tube, measuring nine inches high, is baited at the bottom with a
+lump of butcher's meat. It is closed with wire-gauze, whose meshes, two
+millimetres wide (.078 inch.--Translator's Note.), do not permit of the
+Fly's passage. The Bluebottle comes to my apparatus, guided by scent
+rather than sight. She hastens to the test-tube, whose contents are
+veiled under an opaque cover, with the same alacrity as to the open
+tube. The invisible attracts her quite as much as the visible.
+
+She stays awhile on the lattice of the mouth, inspects it attentively;
+but, whether because circumstances failed to serve me, or because the
+wire network inspired her with distrust, I never saw her dab her eggs
+upon it for certain. As her evidence was doubtful, I had recourse to
+the Flesh-fly (Sarcophaga carnaria).
+
+This Fly is less finicking in her preparations, she has more faith in
+the strength of her worms, which are born ready-formed and vigorous,
+and easily shows me what I wish to see. She explores the trellis-work,
+chooses a mesh through which she inserts the tip of her abdomen, and,
+undisturbed by my presence, emits, one after the other, a certain
+number of grubs, about ten or so. True, her visits will be repeated,
+increasing the family at a rate of which I am ignorant.
+
+The new-born worms, thanks to a slight viscidity, cling for a moment to
+the wire-gauze; they swarm, wriggle, release themselves and leap into
+the chasm. It is a nine-inch drop at least. When this is done, the
+mother makes off, knowing for a certainty that her offspring will shift
+for themselves. If they fall on the meat, well and good; if they fall
+elsewhere, they can reach the morsel by crawling.
+
+This confidence in the unknown factor of the precipice, with no
+indication but that of smell, deserves fuller investigation. From what
+height will the Flesh-fly dare to let her children drop? I top the
+test-tube with another tube, the width of the neck of a claret-bottle.
+The mouth is closed either with wire-gauze or with a paper cover with a
+slight cut in it. Altogether, the apparatus measures twenty-five inches
+in height. No matter: the fall is not serious for the lithe backs of
+the young grubs; and, in a few days, the test-tube is filled with
+larvae, in which it is easy to recognize the Flesh-fly's family by the
+fringed coronet that opens and shuts at the maggot's stern like the
+petals of a little flower. I did not see the mother operating: I was
+not there at the time; but there is no doubt possible of her coming,
+nor of the great dive taken by the family: the contents of the
+test-tube furnish me with a duly authenticated certificate.
+
+I admire the leap and, to obtain one better still, I replace the tube
+by another, so that the apparatus now stands forty-six inches high. The
+column is erected at a spot frequented by Flies, in a dim light. Its
+mouth, closed with a wire-gauze cover, reaches the level of various
+other appliances, test-tubes and jars, which are already stocked or
+awaiting their colony of vermin. When the position is well-known to the
+Flies, I remove the other tubes and leave the column, lest the visitors
+should turn aside to easier ground.
+
+From time to time the Bluebottle and the Flesh-fly perch on the
+trellis-work, make a short investigation and then decamp. Throughout
+the summer season, for three whole months, the apparatus remains where
+it is, without result: never a worm. What is the reason? Does the
+stench of the meat not spread, coming from that depth? Certainly it
+spreads: it is unmistakable to my dulled nostrils and still more so to
+the nostrils of my children, whom I call to bear witness. Then why does
+the Flesh-fly, who but now was dropping her grubs from a goodly height,
+refuse to let them fall from the top of a column twice as high? Does
+she fear lest her worms should be bruised by an excessive drop? There
+is nothing about her to point to anxiety aroused by the length of the
+shaft. I never see her explore the tube or take its size. She stands on
+the trellised orifice; and there the matter ends. Can she be apprised
+of the depth of the chasm by the comparative faintness of the offensive
+odours that arise from it? Can the sense of smell measure the distance
+and judge whether it be acceptable or not? Perhaps.
+
+The fact remains that, despite the attraction of the scent, the
+Flesh-fly does not expose her worms to disproportionate falls. Can she
+know beforehand that, when the chrysalids break, her winged family,
+knocking with a sudden flight against the sides of a tall chimney, will
+be unable to get out? This foresight would be in agreement with the
+rules which order maternal instinct according to future needs.
+
+But, when the fall does not exceed a certain depth, the budding worms
+of the Flesh-fly are dropped without a qualm, as all our experiments
+show. This principle has a practical application which is not without
+its value in matters of domestic economy. It is as well that the
+wonders of entomology should sometimes give us a hint of commonplace
+utility.
+
+The usual meat-safe is a sort of large cage with a top and bottom of
+wood and four wire-gauze sides. Hooks fixed into the top are used
+whereby to hang pieces which we wish to protect from the Flies. Often,
+so as to employ the space to the best advantage, these pieces are
+simply laid on the floor of the cage. With these arrangements, are we
+sure of warding off the Fly and her vermin?
+
+Not at all. We may protect ourselves against the Bluebottle, who is not
+much inclined to lay her eggs at a distance from the meat; but there is
+still the Flesh-fly, who is more venturesome and goes more briskly to
+work and who will slip the grubs through a hole in the meshes and drop
+them inside the safe. Agile as they are and well able to crawl, the
+worms will easily reach anything on the floor; the only things secure
+from their attacks will be the pieces hanging from the ceiling. It is
+not in the nature of maggots to explore the heights, especially if this
+implies climbing down a string in addition.
+
+People also use wire-gauze dish-covers. The trellised dome protects the
+contents even less than does the meat-safe. The Flesh-fly takes no heed
+of it. She can drop her worms through the meshes on the covered joint.
+
+Then what are we to do? Nothing could be simpler. We need only wrap the
+birds which we wish to preserve--Thrushes, Partridges, Snipe and so
+on--in separate paper envelopes; and the same with our beef and mutton.
+This defensive armour alone, while leaving ample room for the air to
+circulate, makes any invasion by the worms impossible; even without a
+cover or a meat-safe: not that paper possesses any special preservative
+virtues, but solely because it forms an impenetrable barrier. The
+Bluebottle carefully refrains from laying her eggs upon it and the
+Flesh-fly from bringing forth her offspring, both of them knowing that
+their new-born young are incapable of piercing the obstacle.
+
+Paper is equally successful in our strife against the Moths, those
+plagues of our furs and clothes. To keep away these wholesale ravagers,
+people generally use camphor, naphthalene, tobacco, bunches of
+lavender, and other strong-scented remedies. Without wishing to malign
+those preservatives, we are bound to admit that the means employed are
+none too effective. The smell does very little to prevent the havoc of
+the Moths.
+
+I would therefore advise our housewives, instead of all this chemist's
+stuff, to use newspapers of a suitable shape and size. Take whatever
+you wish to protect--your furs, your flannel, or your clothes--and pack
+each article carefully in a newspaper, joining the edges with a double
+fold, well pinned. If this joining is properly done, the Moth will
+never get inside. Since my advice has been taken and this method
+employed in my household, the old damage has no longer been repeated.
+
+To return to the Fly. A piece of meat is hidden in a jar under a layer
+of fine, dry sand, a finger's-breadth thick. The jar has a wide mouth
+and is left quite open. Let whoso come that will, attracted by the
+smell. The Bluebottles are not long in inspecting what I have prepared
+for them: they enter the jar, go out and come back again, inquiring
+into the invisible thing revealed by its fragrance. A diligent watch
+enables me to see them fussing about, exploring the sandy expanse,
+tapping it with their feet, sounding it with their proboscis. I leave
+the visitors undisturbed for a fortnight or three weeks. None of them
+lays any eggs.
+
+This is a repetition of what the paper bag, with its dead bird, showed
+me. The Flies refuse to lay on the sand, apparently for the same
+reasons. The paper was considered an obstacle which the frail vermin
+would not be able to overcome. With sand, the case is worse. Its
+grittiness would hurt the new-born weaklings, its dryness would absorb
+the moisture indispensable to their movements. Later, when preparing
+for the metamorphosis, when their strength has come to them, the grubs
+will dig the earth quite well and be able to descend: but, at the
+start, that would be very dangerous for them. Knowing these
+difficulties, the mothers, however greatly tempted by the smell,
+abstain from breeding. As a matter of fact, after long waiting, fearing
+lest some packets of eggs may have escaped my attention, I inspect the
+contents of the jar from top to bottom. Meat and sand contain neither
+larvae nor pupae: the whole is absolutely deserted.
+
+The layer of sand being only a finger's-breadth thick, this experiment
+requires certain precautions. The meat may expand a little, in going
+bad, and protrude in one or two places. However small the fleshy eyots
+that show above the surface, the Flies come to them and breed.
+Sometimes also the juices oozing from the putrid meat soak a small
+extent of the sandy floor. That is enough for the maggot's first
+establishment. These causes of failure are avoided with a layer of sand
+about an inch thick. Then the Bluebottle, the Flesh-fly, and other
+Flies whose grubs batten on dead bodies are kept at a proper distance.
+
+In the hope of awakening us to a proper sense of our insignificance,
+pulpit orators sometimes make an unfair use of the grave and its worms.
+Let us put no faith in their doleful rhetoric. The chemistry of man's
+final dissolution is eloquent enough of our emptiness: there is no need
+to add imaginary horrors. The worm of the sepulchre is an invention of
+cantankerous minds, incapable of seeing things as they are. Covered by
+but a few inches of earth, the dead can sleep their quiet sleep: no Fly
+will ever come to take advantage of them.
+
+At the surface of the soil, exposed to the air, the hideous invasion is
+possible; aye, it is the invariable rule. For the melting down and
+remoulding of matter, man is no better, corpse for corpse, than the
+lowest of the brutes. Then the Fly exercises her rights and deals with
+us as she does with any ordinary animal refuse. Nature treats us with
+magnificent indifference in her great regenerating factory: placed in
+her crucibles, animals and men, beggars and kings are 1 and all alike.
+There you have true equality, the only equality in this world of ours:
+equality in the presence of the maggot.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 8. THE PINE-PROCESSIONARY.
+
+Drover Dingdong's Sheep followed the Ram which Panurge had maliciously
+thrown overboard and leapt nimbly into the sea, one after the other,
+"for you know," says Rabelais, "it is the nature of the sheep always to
+follow the first, wheresoever it goes."
+
+The Pine caterpillar is even more sheeplike, not from foolishness, but
+from necessity: where the first goes all the others go, in a regular
+string, with not an empty space between them.
+
+They proceed in single file, in a continuous row, each touching with
+its head the rear of the one in front of it. The complex twists and
+turns described in his vagaries by the caterpillar leading the van are
+scrupulously described by all the others. No Greek theoria winding its
+way to the Eleusinian festivals was ever more orderly. Hence the name
+of Processionary given to the gnawer of the pine.
+
+His character is complete when we add that he is a rope-dancer all his
+life long: he walks only on the tight-rope, a silken rail placed in
+position as he advances. The caterpillar who chances to be at the head
+of the procession dribbles his thread without ceasing and fixes it on
+the path which his fickle preferences cause him to take. The thread is
+so tiny that the eye, though armed with a magnifying-glass, suspects it
+rather than sees it.
+
+But a second caterpillar steps on the slender foot-board and doubles it
+with his thread; a third trebles it; and all the others, however many
+there be, add the sticky spray from their spinnerets, so much so that,
+when the procession has marched by, there remains, as a record of its
+passing, a narrow white ribbon whose dazzling whiteness shimmers in the
+sun. Very much more sumptuous than ours, their system of road-making
+consists in upholstering with silk instead of macadamizing. We sprinkle
+our roads with broken stones and level them by the pressure of a heavy
+steam-roller; they lay over their paths a soft satin rail, a work of
+general interest to which each contributes his thread.
+
+What is the use of all this luxury? Could they not, like other
+caterpillars, walk about without these costly preparations? I see two
+reasons for their mode of progression. It is night when the
+Processionaries sally forth to browse upon the pine-leaves. They leave
+their nest, situated at the top of a bough, in profound darkness; they
+go down the denuded pole till they come to the nearest branch that has
+not yet been gnawed, a branch which becomes lower and lower by degrees
+as the consumers finish stripping the upper storeys; they climb up this
+untouched branch and spread over the green needles.
+
+When they have had their suppers and begin to feel the keen night air,
+the next thing is to return to the shelter of the house. Measured in a
+straight line, the distance is not great, hardly an arm's length; but
+it cannot be covered in this way on foot. The caterpillars have to
+climb down from one crossing to the next, from the needle to the twig,
+from the twig to the branch, from the branch to the bough and from the
+bough, by a no less angular path, to go back home. It is useless to
+rely upon sight as a guide on this long and erratic journey. The
+Processionary, it is true, has five ocular specks on either side of his
+head, but they are so infinitesimal, so difficult to make out through
+the magnifying-glass, that we cannot attribute to them any great power
+of vision. Besides, what good would those short-sighted lenses be in
+the absence of light, in black darkness?
+
+It is equally useless to think of the sense of smell. Has the
+Processional any olfactory powers or has he not? I do not know. Without
+giving a positive answer to the question, I can at least declare that
+his sense of smell is exceedingly dull and in no way suited to help him
+find his way. This is proved, in my experiments, by a number of hungry
+caterpillars that, after a long fast, pass close beside a pine-branch
+without betraying any eagerness of showing a sign of stopping. It is
+the sense of touch that tells them where they are. So long as their
+lips do not chance to light upon the pasture-land, not one of them
+settles there, though he be ravenous. They do not hasten to food which
+they have scented from afar; they stop at a branch which they encounter
+on their way.
+
+Apart from sight and smell, what remains to guide them in returning to
+the nest? The ribbon spun on the road. In the Cretan labyrinth, Theseus
+would have been lost but for the clue of thread with which Ariadne
+supplied him. The spreading maze of the pine-needles is, especially at
+night, as inextricable a labyrinth as that constructed for Minos. The
+Processionary finds his way through it, without the possibility of a
+mistake, by the aid of his bit of silk. At the time for going home,
+each easily recovers either his own thread or one or other of the
+neighbouring threads, spread fanwise by the diverging herd; one by one
+the scattered tribe line up on the common ribbon, which started from
+the nest; and the sated caravan finds its way back to the manor with
+absolute certainty.
+
+Longer expeditions are made in the daytime, even in winter, if the
+weather be fine. Our caterpillars then come down from the tree, venture
+on the ground, march in procession for a distance of thirty yards or
+so. The object of these sallies is not to look for food, for the native
+pine-tree is far from being exhausted: the shorn branches hardly count
+amid the vast leafage. Moreover, the caterpillars observe complete
+abstinence till nightfall. The trippers have no other object than a
+constitutional, a pilgrimage to the outskirts to see what these are
+like, possibly an inspection of the locality where, later on, they mean
+to bury themselves in the sand for their metamorphosis.
+
+It goes without saying that, in these greater evolutions, the guiding
+cord is not neglected. It is now more necessary than ever. All
+contribute to it from the produce of their spinnerets, as is the
+invariable rule whenever there is a progression. Not one takes a step
+forward without fixing to the path the thread from his lips.
+
+If the series forming the procession be at all long, the ribbon is
+dilated sufficiently to make it easy to find; nevertheless, on the
+homeward journey, it is not picked up without some hesitation. For
+observe that the caterpillars when on the march never turn completely;
+to wheel round on their tight-rope is a method utterly unknown to them.
+In order therefore to regain the road already covered, they have to
+describe a zigzag whose windings and extent are determined by the
+leader's fancy. Hence come gropings and roamings which are sometimes
+prolonged to the point of causing the herd to spend the night out of
+doors. It is not a serious matter. They collect into a motionless
+cluster. To-morrow the search will start afresh and will sooner or
+later be successful. Oftener still the winding curve meets the
+guide-thread at the first attempt. As soon as the first caterpillar has
+the rail between his legs, all hesitation ceases; and the band makes
+for the nest with hurried steps.
+
+The use of this silk-tapestried roadway is evident from a second point
+of view. To protect himself against the severity of the winter which he
+has to face when working, the Pine Caterpillar weaves himself a shelter
+in which he spends his bad hours, his days of enforced idleness. Alone,
+with none but the meagre resources of his silk-glands, he would find
+difficulty in protecting himself on the top of a branch buffeted by the
+winds. A substantial dwelling, proof against snow, gales and icy fogs,
+requires the cooperation of a large number. Out of the individual's
+piled-up atoms, the community obtains a spacious and durable
+establishment.
+
+The enterprise takes a long time to complete. Every evening, when the
+weather permits, the building has to be strengthened and enlarged. It
+is indispensable, therefore, that the corporation of workers should not
+be dissolved while the stormy season continues and the insects are
+still in the caterpillar stage. But, without special arrangements, each
+nocturnal expedition at grazing-time would be a cause of separation. At
+that moment of appetite for food there is a return to individualism.
+The caterpillars become more or less scattered, settling singly on the
+branches around; each browses his pine-needle separately. How are they
+to find one another afterwards and become a community again?
+
+The several threads left on the road make this easy. With that guide,
+every caterpillar, however far he may be, comes back to his companions
+without ever missing the way. They come hurrying from a host of twigs,
+from here, from there, from above, from below; and soon the scattered
+legion reforms into a group. The silk thread is something more than a
+road-making expedient: it is the social bond, the system that keeps the
+members of the brotherhood indissolubly united.
+
+At the head of every procession, long or short, goes a first
+caterpillar whom I will call the leader of the march or file, though
+the word leader, which I use for the want of a better, is a little out
+of place here. Nothing, in fact, distinguishes this caterpillar from
+the others: it just depends upon the order in which they happen to line
+up; and mere chance brings him to the front. Among the Processionaries,
+every captain is an officer of fortune. The actual leader leads;
+presently he will be a subaltern, if the line should break up in
+consequence of some accident and be formed anew in a different order.
+
+His temporary functions give him an attitude of his own. While the
+others follow passively in a close file, he, the captain, tosses
+himself about and with an abrupt movement flings the front of his body
+hither and thither. As he marches ahead he seems to be seeking his way.
+Does he in point of fact explore the country? Does he choose the most
+practicable places? Or are his hesitations merely the result of the
+absence of a guiding thread on ground that has not yet been covered?
+His subordinates follow very placidly, reassured by the cord which they
+hold between their legs; he, deprived of that support, is uneasy.
+
+Why cannot I read what passes under his black, shiny skull, so like a
+drop of tar to look at? To judge by actions, there is here a modicum of
+discernment which is able, after experimenting, to recognize excessive
+roughnesses, over-slippery surfaces, dusty places that offer no
+resistance and, above all, the threads left by other excursionists.
+This is all or nearly all that my long acquaintance with the
+Processionaries has taught me as to their mentality. Poor brains,
+indeed; poor creatures, whose commonwealth has its safety hanging upon
+a thread!
+
+The processions vary greatly in length. The finest that I have seen
+manoeuvring on the ground measured twelve or thirteen yards and
+numbered about three hundred caterpillars, drawn up with absolute
+precision in a wavy line. But, if there were only two in a row the
+order would still be perfect: the second touches and follows the first.
+
+By February I have processions of all lengths in the greenhouse. What
+tricks can I play upon them? I see only two: to do away with the
+leader; and to cut the thread.
+
+The suppression of the leader of the file produces nothing striking. If
+the thing is done without creating a disturbance, the procession does
+not alter its ways at all. The second caterpillar, promoted to captain,
+knows the duties of his rank off-hand: he selects and leads, or rather
+he hesitates and gropes.
+
+The breaking of the silk ribbon is not very important either. I remove
+a caterpillar from the middle of the file. With my scissors, so as not
+to cause a commotion in the ranks, I cut the piece of ribbon on which
+he stood and clear away every thread of it. As a result of this breach,
+the procession acquires two marching leaders, each independent of the
+other. It may be that the one in the rear joins the file ahead of him,
+from which he is separated by but a slender interval; in that case,
+things return to their original condition. More frequently, the two
+parts do not become reunited. In that case, we have two distinct
+processions, each of which wanders where it pleases and diverges from
+the other. Nevertheless, both will be able to return to the nest by
+discovering sooner or later, in the course of their peregrinations, the
+ribbon on the other side of the break.
+
+These two experiments are only moderately interesting. I have thought
+out another, one more fertile in possibilities. I propose to make the
+caterpillars describe a close circuit, after the ribbons running from
+it and liable to bring about a change of direction have been destroyed.
+The locomotive engine pursues its invariable course so long as it is
+not shunted on to a branch-line. If the Processionaries find the silken
+rail always clear in front of them, with no switches anywhere, will
+they continue on the same track, will they persist in following a road
+that never comes to an end? What we have to do is to produce this
+circuit, which is unknown under ordinary conditions, by artificial
+means.
+
+The first idea that suggests itself is to seize with the forceps the
+silk ribbon at the back of the train, to bend it without shaking it and
+to bring the end of it ahead of the file. If the caterpillar marching
+in the van steps upon it, the thing is done: the others will follow him
+faithfully. The operation is very simple in theory but most difficult
+in practice and produces no useful results. The ribbon, which is
+extremely slight, breaks under the weight of the grains of sand that
+stick to it and are lifted with it. If it does not break, the
+caterpillars at the back, however delicately we may go to work, feel a
+disturbance which makes them curl up or even let go.
+
+There is a yet greater difficulty: the leader refuses the ribbon laid
+before him; the cut end makes him distrustful. Failing to see the
+regular, uninterrupted road, he slants off to the right or left, he
+escapes at a tangent. If I try to interfere and to bring him back to
+the path of my choosing, he persists in his refusal, shrivels up, does
+not budge, and soon the whole procession is in confusion. We will not
+insist: the method is a poor one, very wasteful of effort for at best a
+problematical success.
+
+We ought to interfere as little as possible and obtain a natural closed
+circuit. Can it be done? Yes. It lies in our power, without the least
+meddling, to see a procession march along a perfect circular track. I
+owe this result, which is eminently deserving of our attention, to pure
+chance.
+
+On the shelf with the layer of sand in which the nests are planted
+stand some big palm-vases measuring nearly a yard and a half in
+circumference at the top. The caterpillars often scale the sides and
+climb up to the moulding which forms a cornice around the opening. This
+place suits them for their processions, perhaps because of the absolute
+firmness of the surface, where there is no fear of landslides, as on
+the loose, sandy soil below; and also, perhaps, because of the
+horizontal position, which is favourable to repose after the fatigue of
+the ascent. It provides me with a circular track all ready-made. I have
+nothing to do but wait for an occasion propitious to my plans. This
+occasion is not long in coming.
+
+On the 30th of January, 1896, a little before twelve o'clock in the
+day, I discover a numerous troop making their way up and gradually
+reaching the popular cornice. Slowly, in single file, the caterpillars
+climb the great vase, mount the ledge and advance in regular
+procession, while others are constantly arriving and continuing the
+series. I wait for the string to close up, that is to say, for the
+leader, who keeps following the circular moulding, to return to the
+point from which he started. My object is achieved in a quarter of an
+hour. The closed circuit is realized magnificently, in something very
+nearly approaching a circle.
+
+The next thing is to get rid of the rest of the ascending column, which
+would disturb the fine order of the procession by an excess of
+newcomers; it is also important that we should do away with all the
+silken paths, both new and old, that can put the cornice into
+communication with the ground. With a thick hair-pencil I sweep away
+the surplus climbers; with a big brush, one that leaves no smell behind
+it--for this might afterwards prove confusing--I carefully rub down the
+vase and get rid of every thread which the caterpillars have laid on
+the march. When these preparations are finished, a curious sight awaits
+us.
+
+In the interrupted circular procession there is no longer a leader.
+Each caterpillar is preceded by another on whose heels he follows
+guided by the silk track, the work of the whole party; he again has a
+companion close behind him, following him in the same orderly way. And
+this is repeated without variation throughout the length of the chain.
+None commands, or rather none modifies the trail according to his
+fancy; all obey, trusting in the guide who ought normally to lead the
+march and who in reality has been abolished by my trickery.
+
+From the first circuit of the edge of the tub the rail of silk has been
+laid in position and is soon turned into a narrow ribbon by the
+procession, which never ceases dribbling its thread as it goes. The
+rail is simply doubled and has no branches anywhere, for my brush has
+destroyed them all. What will the caterpillars do on this deceptive,
+closed path? Will they walk endlessly round and round until their
+strength gives out entirely?
+
+The old schoolmen were fond of quoting Buridan's Ass, that famous
+Donkey who, when placed between two bundles of hay, starved to death
+because he was unable to decide in favour of either by breaking the
+equilibrium between two equal but opposite attractions. They slandered
+the worthy animal. The Ass, who is no more foolish than any one else,
+would reply to the logical snare by feasting off both bundles. Will my
+caterpillars show a little of his mother wit? Will they, after many
+attempts, be able to break the equilibrium of their closed circuit,
+which keeps them on a road without a turning? Will they make up their
+minds to swerve to this side or that, which is the only method of
+reaching their bundle of hay, the green branch yonder, quite near, not
+two feet off?
+
+I thought that they would and I was wrong. I said to myself:
+
+"The procession will go on turning for some time, for an hour, two
+hours, perhaps; then the caterpillars will perceive their mistake. They
+will abandon the deceptive road and make their descent somewhere or
+other."
+
+That they should remain up there, hard pressed by hunger and the lack
+of cover, when nothing prevented them from going away, seemed to me
+inconceivable imbecility. Facts, however, forced me to accept the
+incredible. Let us describe them in detail.
+
+The circular procession begins, as I have said, on the 30th of January,
+about midday, in splendid weather. The caterpillars march at an even
+pace, each touching the stern of the one in front of him. The unbroken
+chain eliminates the leader with his changes of direction; and all
+follow mechanically, as faithful to their circle as are the hands of a
+watch. The headless file has no liberty left, no will; it has become
+mere clockwork. And this continues for hours and hours. My success goes
+far beyond my wildest suspicions. I stand amazed at it, or rather I am
+stupefied.
+
+Meanwhile, the multiplied circuits change the original rail into a
+superb ribbon a twelfth of an inch broad. I can easily see it
+glittering on the red ground of the pot. The day is drawing to a close
+and no alteration has yet taken place in the position of the trail. A
+striking proof confirms this.
+
+The trajectory is not a plane curve, but one which, at a certain point,
+deviates and goes down a little way to the lower surface of the
+cornice, returning to the top some eight inches farther. I marked these
+two points of deviation in pencil on the vase at the outset. Well, all
+that afternoon and, more conclusive still, on the following days, right
+to the end of this mad dance, I see the string of caterpillars dip
+under the ledge at the first point and come to the top again at the
+second. Once the first thread is laid, the road to be pursued is
+permanently established.
+
+If the road does not vary, the speed does. I measure nine centimetres
+(3 1/2 inches.--Translator's Note.) a minute as the average distance
+covered. But there are more or less lengthy halts; the pace slackens at
+times, especially when the temperature falls. At ten o'clock in the
+evening the walk is little more than a lazy swaying of the body. I
+foresee an early halt, in consequence of the cold, of fatigue and
+doubtless also of hunger.
+
+Grazing-time has arrived. The caterpillars have come crowding from all
+the nests in the greenhouse to browse upon the pine-branches planted by
+myself beside the silken purses. Those in the garden do the same, for
+the temperature is mild. The others, lined up along the earthenware
+cornice, would gladly take part in the feast; they are bound to have an
+appetite after a ten hours' walk. The branch stands green and tempting
+not a hand's-breadth away. To reach it they need but go down; and the
+poor wretches, foolish slaves of their ribbon that they are, cannot
+make up their minds to do so. I leave the famished ones at half-past
+ten, persuaded that they will take counsel with their pillow and that
+on the morrow things will have resumed their ordinary course.
+
+I was wrong. I was expecting too much of them when I accorded them that
+faint gleam of intelligence which the tribulations of a distressful
+stomach ought, one would think, to have aroused. I visit them at dawn.
+They are lined up as on the day before, but motionless. When the air
+grows a little warmer, they shake off their torpor, revive and start
+walking again. The circular procession begins anew, like that which I
+have already seen. There is nothing more and nothing less to be noted
+in their machine-like obstinacy.
+
+This time it is a bitter night. A cold snap has supervened, was indeed
+foretold in the evening by the garden caterpillars, who refused to come
+out despite appearances which to my duller senses seemed to promise a
+continuation of the fine weather. At daybreak the rosemary-walks are
+all asparkle with rime and for the second time this year there is a
+sharp frost. The large pond in the garden is frozen over. What can the
+caterpillars in the conservatory be doing? Let us go and see.
+
+All are ensconced in their nests, except the stubborn processionists on
+the edge of the vase, who, deprived of shelter as they are, seem to
+have spent a very bad night. I find them clustered in two heaps,
+without any attempt at order. They have suffered less from the cold,
+thus huddled together.
+
+'Tis an ill wind that blows nobody any good. The severity of the night
+has caused the ring to break into two segments which will, perhaps,
+afford a chance of safety. Each group, as it survives and resumes its
+walk, will presently be headed by a leader who, not being obliged to
+follow a caterpillar in front of him, will possess some liberty of
+movement and perhaps be able to make the procession swerve to one side.
+Remember that, in the ordinary processions, the caterpillar walking
+ahead acts as a scout. While the others, if nothing occurs to create
+excitement, keep to their ranks, he attends to his duties as a leader
+and is continually turning his head to this side and that,
+investigating, seeking, groping, making his choice. And things happen
+as he decides: the band follows him faithfully. Remember also that,
+even on a road which has already been travelled and beribboned, the
+guiding caterpillar continues to explore.
+
+There is reason to believe that the Processionaries who have lost their
+way on the ledge will find a chance of safety here. Let us watch them.
+On recovering from their torpor, the two groups line up by degrees into
+two distinct files. There are therefore two leaders, free to go where
+they please, independent of each other. Will they succeed in leaving
+the enchanted circle? At the sight of their large black heads swaying
+anxiously from side to side, I am inclined to think so for a moment.
+But I am soon undeceived. As the ranks fill out, the two sections of
+the chain meet and the circle is reconstituted. The momentary leaders
+once more become simple subordinates; and again the caterpillars march
+round and round all day.
+
+For the second time in succession, the night, which is very calm and
+magnificently starry, brings a hard frost. In the morning the
+Processionaries on the tub, the only ones who have camped unsheltered,
+are gathered into a heap which largely overflows both sides of the
+fatal ribbon. I am present at the awakening of the numbed ones. The
+first to take the road is, as luck will have it, outside the track.
+Hesitatingly he ventures into unknown ground. He reaches the top of the
+rim and descends upon the other side on the earth in the vase. He is
+followed by six others, no more. Perhaps the rest of the troop, who
+have not fully recovered from their nocturnal torpor, are too lazy to
+bestir themselves.
+
+The result of this brief delay is a return to the old track. The
+caterpillars embark on the silken trail and the circular march is
+resumed, this time in the form of a ring with a gap in it. There is no
+attempt, however, to strike a new course on the part of the guide whom
+this gap has placed at the head. A chance of stepping outside the magic
+circle has presented itself at last; and he does not know how to avail
+himself of it.
+
+As for the caterpillars who have made their way to the inside of the
+vase, their lot is hardly improved. They climb to the top of the palm,
+starving and seeking for food. Finding nothing to eat that suits them,
+they retrace their steps by following the thread which they have left
+on the way, climb the ledge of the pot, strike the procession again
+and, without further anxiety, slip back into the ranks. Once more the
+ring is complete, once more the circle turns and turns.
+
+Then when will the deliverance come? There is a legend that tells of
+poor souls dragged along in an endless round until the hellish charm is
+broken by a drop of holy water. What drop will good fortune sprinkle on
+my Processionaries to dissolve their circle and bring them back to the
+nest? I see only two means of conjuring the spell and obtaining a
+release from the circuit. These two means are two painful ordeals. A
+strange linking of cause and effect: from sorrow and wretchedness good
+is to come.
+
+And, first, shriveling as the result of cold, the caterpillars gather
+together without any order, heap themselves some on the path, some,
+more numerous these, outside it. Among the latter there may be, sooner
+or later, some revolutionary who, scorning the beaten track, will trace
+out a new road and lead the troop back home. We have just seen an
+instance of it. Seven penetrated to the interior of the vase and
+climbed the palm. True, it was an attempt with no result but still an
+attempt. For complete success, all that need be done would have been to
+take the opposite <DW72>. An even chance is a great thing. Another time
+we shall be more successful.
+
+In the second place, the exhaustion due to fatigue and hunger. A lame
+one stops, unable to go farther. In front of the defaulter the
+procession still continues to wend its way for a short time. The ranks
+close up and an empty space appears. On coming to himself and resuming
+the march, the caterpillar who has caused the breach becomes a leader,
+having nothing before him. The least desire for emancipation is all
+that he wants to make him launch the band into a new path which perhaps
+will be the saving path.
+
+In short, when the Processionaries' train is in difficulties, what it
+needs, unlike ours, is to run off the rails. The side-tracking is left
+to the caprice of a leader who alone is capable of turning to the right
+or left; and this leader is absolutely non-existent so long as the ring
+remains unbroken. Lastly, the breaking of the circle, the one stroke of
+luck, is the result of a chaotic halt, caused principally by excess of
+fatigue or cold.
+
+The liberating accident, especially that of fatigue, occurs fairly
+often. In the course of the same day, the moving circumference is cut
+up several times into two or three sections; but continuity soon
+returns and no change takes place. Things go on just the same. The bold
+innovator who is to save the situation has not yet had his inspiration.
+
+There is nothing new on the fourth day, after an icy night like the
+previous one; nothing to tell except the following detail. Yesterday I
+did not remove the trace left by the few caterpillars who made their
+way to the inside of the vase. This trace, together with a junction
+connecting it with the circular road, is discovered in the course of
+the morning. Half the troop takes advantage of it to visit the earth in
+the pot and climb the palm; the other half remains on the ledge and
+continues to walk along the old rail. In the afternoon the band of
+emigrants rejoins the others, the circuit is completed and things
+return to their original condition.
+
+We come to the fifth day. The night frost becomes more intense, without
+however as yet reaching the greenhouse. It is followed by bright
+sunshine in a calm and limpid sky. As soon as the sun's rays have
+warmed the panes a little, the caterpillars, lying in heaps, wake up
+and resume their evolutions on the ledge of the vase. This time the
+fine order of the beginning is disturbed and a certain disorder becomes
+manifest, apparently an omen of deliverance near at hand. The
+scouting-path inside the vase, which was upholstered in silk yesterday
+and the day before, is to-day followed to its origin on the rim by a
+part of the band and is then deserted after a short loop. The other
+caterpillars follow the usual ribbon. The result of this bifurcation is
+two almost equal files, walking along the ledge in the same direction,
+at a short distance from each other, sometimes meeting, separating
+farther on, in every case with some lack of order.
+
+Weariness increases the confusion. The crippled, who refuse to go on,
+are many. Breaches increase; files are split up into sections each of
+which has its leader, who pokes the front of his body this way and that
+to explore the ground. Everything seems to point to the disintegration
+which will bring safety. My hopes are once more disappointed. Before
+the night the single file is reconstituted and the invincible gyration
+resumed.
+
+Heat comes, just as suddenly as the cold did. To-day, the 4th of
+February, is a beautiful, mild day. The greenhouse is full of life.
+Numerous festoons of caterpillars, issuing from the nests, meander
+along the sand on the shelf. Above them, at every moment, the ring on
+the ledge of the vase breaks up and comes together again. For the first
+time I see daring leaders who, drunk with heat, standing only on their
+hinder prolegs at the extreme edge of the earthenware rim, fling
+themselves forward into space, twisting about, sounding the depths. The
+endeavour is frequently repeated, while the whole troop stops. The
+caterpillars' heads give sudden jerks, their bodies wriggle.
+
+One of the pioneers decides to take the plunge. He slips under the
+ledge. Four follow him. The others, still confiding in the perfidious
+silken path, dare not copy him and continue to go along the old road.
+
+The short string detached from the general chain gropes about a great
+deal, hesitates long on the side of the vase; it goes half-way down,
+then climbs up again slantwise, rejoins and takes its place in the
+procession. This time the attempt has failed, though at the foot of the
+vase, not nine inches away, there lay a bunch of pine-needles which I
+had placed there with the object of enticing the hungry ones. Smell and
+sight told them nothing. Near as they were to the goal, they went up
+again.
+
+No matter, the endeavour has its uses. Threads were laid on the way and
+will serve as a lure to further enterprise. The road of deliverance has
+its first landmarks. And, two days later, on the eighth day of the
+experiment, the caterpillars--now singly, anon in small groups, then
+again in strings of some length--come down from the ledge by following
+the staked-out path. At sunset the last of the laggards is back in the
+nest.
+
+Now for a little arithmetic. For seven times twenty-four hours the
+caterpillars have remained on the ledge of the vase. To make an ample
+allowance for stops due to the weariness of this one or that and above
+all for the rest taken during the colder hours of the night, we will
+deduct one-half of the time. This leaves eighty-four hours' walking.
+The average pace is nine centimetres a minute. (3 1/2
+inches.--Translator's Note.) The aggregate distance covered, therefore,
+is 453 metres, a good deal more than a quarter of a mile, which is a
+great walk for these little crawlers. The circumference of the vase,
+the perimeter of the track, is exactly 1 metre 35. (4 feet 5
+inches.--Translator's Note.) Therefore the circle covered, always in
+the same direction and always without result, was described three
+hundred and thirty-five times.
+
+These figures surprise me, though I am already familiar with the
+abysmal stupidity of insects as a class whenever the least accident
+occurs. I feel inclined to ask myself whether the Processionaries were
+not kept up there so long by the difficulties and dangers of the
+descent rather than by the lack of any gleam of intelligence in their
+benighted minds. The facts, however, reply that the descent is as easy
+as the ascent.
+
+The caterpillar has a very supple back, well adapted for twisting round
+projections or slipping underneath. He can walk with the same ease
+vertically or horizontally, with his back down or up. Besides, he never
+moves forward until he has fixed his thread to the ground. With this
+support to his feet, he has no falls to fear, no matter what his
+position.
+
+I had a proof of this before my eyes during a whole week. As I have
+already said, the track, instead of keeping on one level, bends twice,
+dips at a certain point under the ledge of the vase and reappears at
+the top a little farther on. At one part of the circuit, therefore, the
+procession walks on the lower surface of the rim; and this inverted
+position implies so little discomfort or danger that it is renewed at
+each turn for all the caterpillars from first to last.
+
+It is out of the question then to suggest the dread of a false step on
+the edge of the rim which is so nimbly turned at each point of
+inflexion. The caterpillars in distress, starved, shelterless, chilled
+with cold at night, cling obstinately to the silk ribbon covered
+hundreds of times, because they lack the rudimentary glimmers of reason
+which would advise them to abandon it.
+
+Experience and reflection are not in their province. The ordeal of a
+five hundred yards' march and three to four hundred turns teach them
+nothing; and it takes casual circumstances to bring them back to the
+nest. They would perish on their insidious ribbon if the disorder of
+the nocturnal encampments and the halts due to fatigue did not cast a
+few threads outside the circular path. Some three or four move along
+these trails, laid without an object, stray a little way and, thanks to
+their wanderings, prepare the descent, which is at last accomplished in
+short strings favoured by chance.
+
+The school most highly honoured to-day is very anxious to find the
+origin of reason in the dregs of the animal kingdom. Let me call its
+attention to the Pine Processionary.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 9. THE SPIDERS.
+
+THE NARBONNE LYCOSA, OR BLACK-BELLIED TARANTULA.
+
+THE BURROW.
+
+Michelet has told us how, as a printer's apprentice in a cellar, he
+established amicable relations with a Spider. (Jules Michelet
+(1798-1874), author of "L'Oiseau" and "L'Insecte," in addition to the
+historical works for which he is chiefly known. As a lad, he helped his
+father, a printer by trade, in setting type.--Translator's Note.) At a
+certain hour of the day, a ray of sunlight would glint through the
+window of the gloomy workshop and light up the little compositor's
+case. Then his eight-legged neighbour would come down from her web and
+on the edge of the case take her share of the sunshine. The boy did not
+interfere with her; he welcomed the trusting visitor as a friend and as
+a pleasant diversion from the long monotony. When we lack the society
+of our fellow-men, we take refuge in that of animals, without always
+losing by the change.
+
+I do not, thank God, suffer from the melancholy of a cellar: my
+solitude is gay with light and verdure; I attend, whenever I please,
+the fields' high festival, the Thrushes' concert, the Crickets'
+symphony; and yet my friendly commerce with the Spider is marked by an
+even greater devotion than the young type-setter's. I admit her to the
+intimacy of my study, I make room for her among my books, I set her in
+the sun on my window-ledge, I visit her assiduously at her home, in the
+country. The object of our relations is not to create a means of escape
+from the petty worries of life, pin-pricks whereof I have my share like
+other men, a very large share, indeed; I propose to submit to the
+Spider a host of questions whereto, at times, she condescends to reply.
+
+To what fair problems does not the habit of frequenting her give rise!
+To set them forth worthily, the marvellous art which the little printer
+was to acquire were not too much. One needs the pen of a Michelet; and
+I have but a rough, blunt pencil. Let us try, nevertheless: even when
+poorly clad, truth is still beautiful.
+
+The most robust Spider in my district is the Narbonne Lycosa, or
+Black-bellied Tarantula, clad in black velvet on the lower surface,
+especially under the belly, with brown chevrons on the abdomen and grey
+and white rings around the legs. Her favourite home is the dry, pebbly
+ground, covered with sun-scorched thyme. In my harmas laboratory there
+are quite twenty of this Spider's burrows. Rarely do I pass by one of
+these haunts without giving a glance down the pit where gleam, like
+diamonds, the four great eyes, the four telescopes, of the hermit. The
+four others, which are much smaller, are not visible at that depth.
+
+Would I have greater riches, I have but to walk a hundred yards from my
+house, on the neighbouring plateau, once a shady forest, to-day a
+dreary solitude where the Cricket browses and the Wheat-ear flits from
+stone to stone. The love of lucre has laid waste the land. Because wine
+paid handsomely, they pulled up the forest to plant the vine. Then came
+the Phylloxera, the vine-stocks perished and the once green table-land
+is now no more than a desolate stretch where a few tufts of hardy
+grasses sprout among the pebbles. This waste-land is the Lycosa's
+paradise: in an hour's time, if need were, I should discover a hundred
+burrows within a limited range.
+
+These dwellings are pits about a foot deep, perpendicular at first and
+then bent elbow-wise. The average diameter is an inch. On the edge of
+the hole stands a kerb, formed of straw, bits and scraps of all sorts
+and even small pebbles, the size of a hazel-nut. The whole is kept in
+place and cemented with silk. Often, the Spider confines herself to
+drawing together the dry blades of the nearest grass, which she ties
+down with the straps from her spinnerets, without removing the blades
+from the stems; often, also, she rejects this scaffolding in favour of
+a masonry constructed of small stones. The nature of the kerb is
+decided by the nature of the materials within the Lycosa's reach, in
+the close neighbourhood of the building-yard. There is no selection:
+everything meets with approval, provided that it be near at hand.
+
+The direction is perpendicular, in so far as obstacles, frequent in a
+soil of this kind, permit. A bit of gravel can be extracted and hoisted
+outside; but a flint is an immovable boulder which the Spider avoids by
+giving a bend to her gallery. If more such are met with, the residence
+becomes a winding cave, with stone vaults, with lobbies communicating
+by means of sharp passages.
+
+This lack of plan has no attendant drawbacks, so well does the owner,
+from long habit, know every corner and storey of her mansion. If any
+interesting buzz occur overhead, the Lycosa climbs up from her rugged
+manor with the same speed as from a vertical shaft. Perhaps she even
+finds the windings and turnings an advantage, when she has to drag into
+her den a prey that happens to defend itself.
+
+As a rule, the end of the burrow widens into a side-chamber, a lounge
+or resting-place where the Spider meditates at length and is content to
+lead a life of quiet when her belly is full.
+
+When she reaches maturity and is once settled, the Lycosa becomes
+eminently domesticated. I have been living in close communion with her
+for the last three years. I have installed her in large earthen pans on
+the window-sills of my study and I have her daily under my eyes. Well,
+it is very rarely that I happen on her outside, a few inches from her
+hole, back to which she bolts at the least alarm.
+
+We may take it then that, when not in captivity, the Lycosa does not go
+far afield to gather the wherewithal to build her parapet and that she
+makes shift with what she finds upon her threshold. In these
+conditions, the building-stones are soon exhausted and the masonry
+ceases for lack of materials.
+
+The wish came over me to see what dimensions the circular edifice would
+assume, if the Spider were given an unlimited supply. With captives to
+whom I myself act as purveyor the thing is easy enough. Were it only
+with a view to helping whoso may one day care to continue these
+relations with the big Spider of the waste-lands, let me describe how
+my subjects are housed.
+
+A good-sized earthenware pan, some nine inches deep, is filled with a
+red, clayey earth, rich in pebbles, similar, in short, to that of the
+places haunted by the Lycosa. Properly moistened into a paste, the
+artificial soil is heaped, layer by layer, around a central reed, of a
+bore equal to that of the animal's natural burrow. When the receptacle
+is filled to the top, I withdraw the reed, which leaves a yawning,
+perpendicular shaft. I thus obtain the abode which shall replace that
+of the fields.
+
+To find the hermit to inhabit it is merely the matter of a walk in the
+neighbourhood. When removed from her own dwelling, which is turned
+topsy-turvy by my trowel, and placed in possession of the den produced
+by my art, the Lycosa at once disappears into that den. She does not
+come out again, seeks nothing better elsewhere. A large wire-gauze
+cover rests on the soil in the pan and prevents escape.
+
+In any case, the watch, in this respect, makes no demand upon my
+diligence. The prisoner is satisfied with her new abode and manifests
+no regret for her natural burrow. There is no attempt at flight on her
+part. Let me not omit to add that each pan must receive not more than
+one inhabitant. The Lycosa is very intolerant. To her a neighbour is
+fair game, to be eaten without scruple when one has might on one's
+side. Time was when, unaware of this fierce intolerance, which is more
+savage still at breeding time, I saw hideous orgies perpetrated in my
+overstocked cages. I shall have occasion to describe those tragedies
+later.
+
+Let us meanwhile consider the isolated Lycosae. They do not touch up
+the dwelling which I have moulded for them with a bit of reed; at most,
+now and again, perhaps with the object of forming a lounge or bedroom
+at the bottom, they fling out a few loads of rubbish. But all, little
+by little, build the kerb that is to edge the mouth.
+
+I have given them plenty of first-rate materials, far superior to those
+which they use when left to their own resources. These consist, first,
+for the foundations, of little smooth stones, some of which are as
+large as an almond. With this road-metal are mingled short strips of
+raphia, or palm-fibre, flexible ribbons, easily bent. These stand for
+the Spider's usual basket-work, consisting of slender stalks and dry
+blades of grass. Lastly, by way of an unprecedented treasure, never yet
+employed by a Lycosa, I place at my captives' disposal some thick
+threads of wool, cut into inch lengths.
+
+As I wish, at the same time, to find out whether my animals, with the
+magnificent lenses of their eyes, are able to distinguish colours and
+prefer one colour to another, I mix up bits of wool of different hues:
+there are red, green, white, and yellow pieces. If the Spider have any
+preference, she can choose where she pleases.
+
+The Lycosa always works at night, a regrettable circumstance, which
+does not allow me to follow the worker's methods. I see the result; and
+that is all. Were I to visit the building-yard by the light of a
+lantern, I should be no wiser. The Spider, who is very shy, would at
+once dive into her lair; and I should have lost my sleep for nothing.
+Furthermore, she is not a very diligent labourer; she likes to take her
+time. Two or three bits of wool or raphia placed in position represent
+a whole night's work. And to this slowness we must add long spells of
+utter idleness.
+
+Two months pass; and the result of my liberality surpasses my
+expectations. Possessing more windfalls than they know what to do with,
+all picked up in their immediate neighbourhood, my Lycosae have built
+themselves donjon-keeps the like of which their race has not yet known.
+Around the orifice, on a slightly sloping bank, small, flat, smooth
+stones have been laid to form a broken, flagged pavement. The larger
+stones, which are Cyclopean blocks compared with the size of the animal
+that has shifted them, are employed as abundantly as the others.
+
+On this rockwork stands the donjon. It is an interlacing of raphia and
+bits of wool, picked up at random, without distinction of shade. Red
+and white, green and yellow are mixed without any attempt at order. The
+Lycosa is indifferent to the joys of colour.
+
+The ultimate result is a sort of muff, a couple of inches high. Bands
+of silk, supplied by the spinnerets, unite the pieces, so that the
+whole resembles a coarse fabric. Without being absolutely faultless,
+for there are always awkward pieces on the outside, which the worker
+could not handle, the gaudy building is not devoid of merit. The bird
+lining its nest would do no better. Whoso sees the curious,
+many- productions in my pans takes them for an outcome of my
+industry, contrived with a view to some experimental mischief; and his
+surprise is great when I confess who the real author is. No one would
+ever believe the Spider capable of constructing such a monument.
+
+It goes without saying that, in a state of liberty, on our barren
+waste-lands, the Lycosa does not indulge in such sumptuous
+architecture. I have given the reason: she is too great a stay-at-home
+to go in search of materials and she makes use of the limited resources
+which she finds around her. Bits of earth, small chips of stone, a few
+twigs, a few withered grasses: that is all, or nearly all. Wherefore
+the work is generally quite modest and reduced to a parapet that hardly
+attracts attention.
+
+My captives teach us that, when materials are plentiful, especially
+textile materials that remove all fears of landslip, the Lycosa
+delights in tall turrets. She understands the art of donjon-building
+and puts it into practice as often as she possesses the means.
+
+What is the purpose of this turret? My pans will tell us that. An
+enthusiastic votary of the chase, so long as she is not permanently
+fixed, the Lycosa, once she has set up house, prefers to lie in ambush
+and wait for the quarry. Every day, when the heat is greatest, I see my
+captives come up slowly from under ground and lean upon the battlements
+of their woolly castle-keep. They are then really magnificent in their
+stately gravity. With their swelling belly contained within the
+aperture, their head outside, their glassy eyes staring, their legs
+gathered for a spring, for hours and hours they wait, motionless,
+bathing voluptuously in the sun.
+
+Should a tit-bit to her liking happen to pass, forthwith the watcher
+darts from her tall tower, swift as an arrow from the bow. With a
+dagger-thrust in the neck, she stabs the jugular of the Locust,
+Dragon-fly or other prey whereof I am the purveyor; and she as quickly
+scales the donjon and retires with her capture. The performance is a
+wonderful exhibition of skill and speed.
+
+Very seldom is a quarry missed, provided that it pass at a convenient
+distance, within the range of the huntress' bound. But, if the prey be
+at some distance, for instance on the wire of the cage, the Lycosa
+takes no notice of it. Scorning to go in pursuit, she allows it to roam
+at will. She never strikes except when sure of her stroke. She achieves
+this by means of her tower. Hiding behind the wall, she sees the
+stranger advancing, keeps her eyes on him and suddenly pounces when he
+comes within reach. These abrupt tactics make the thing a certainty.
+Though he were winged and swift of flight, the unwary one who
+approaches the ambush is lost.
+
+This presumes, it is true, an exemplary patience on the Lycosa's part;
+for the burrow has naught that can serve to entice victims. At best,
+the ledge provided by the turret may, at rare intervals, tempt some
+weary wayfarer to use it as a resting-place. But, if the quarry do not
+come to-day, it is sure to come to-morrow, the next day, or later, for
+the Locusts hop innumerable in the waste-land, nor are they always able
+to regulate their leaps. Some day or other, chance is bound to bring
+one of them within the purlieus of the burrow. This is the moment to
+spring upon the pilgrim from the ramparts. Until then, we maintain a
+stoical vigilance. We shall dine when we can; but we shall end by
+dining.
+
+The Lycosa, therefore, well aware of these lingering eventualities,
+waits and is not unduly distressed by a prolonged abstinence. She has
+an accommodating stomach, which is satisfied to be gorged to-day and to
+remain empty afterwards for goodness knows how long. I have sometimes
+neglected my catering duties for weeks at a time; and my boarders have
+been none the worse for it. After a more or less protracted fast, they
+do not pine away, but are smitten with a wolf-like hunger. All these
+ravenous eaters are alike: they guzzle to excess to-day, in
+anticipation of to-morrow's dearth.
+
+THE LAYING.
+
+Chance, a poor stand-by, sometimes contrives very well. At the
+beginning of the month of August, the children call me to the far side
+of the enclosure, rejoicing in a find which they have made under the
+rosemary-bushes. It is a magnificent Lycosa, with an enormous belly,
+the sign of an impending delivery.
+
+Early one morning, ten days later, I find her preparing for her
+confinement. A silk network is first spun on the ground, covering an
+extent about equal to the palm of one's hand. It is coarse and
+shapeless, but firmly fixed. This is the floor on which the Spider
+means to operate.
+
+On this foundation, which acts as a protection from the sand, the
+Lycosa fashions a round mat, the size of a two-franc piece and made of
+superb white silk. With a gentle, uniform movement, which might be
+regulated by the wheels of a delicate piece of clockwork, the tip of
+the abdomen rises and falls, each time touching the supporting base a
+little farther away, until the extreme scope of the mechanism is
+attained.
+
+Then, without the Spider's moving her position, the oscillation is
+resumed in the opposite direction. By means of this alternate motion,
+interspersed with numerous contacts, a segment of the sheet is
+obtained, of a very accurate texture. When this is done, the Spider
+moves a little along a circular line and the loom works in the same
+manner on another segment.
+
+The silk disk, a sort of hardy concave paten, now no longer receives
+anything from the spinnerets in its centre; the marginal belt alone
+increases in thickness. The piece thus becomes a bowl-shaped porringer,
+surrounded by a wide, flat edge.
+
+The time for the laying has come. With one quick emission, the viscous,
+pale-yellow eggs are laid in the basin, where they heap together in the
+shape of a globe which projects largely outside the cavity. The
+spinnerets are once more set going. With short movements, as the tip of
+the abdomen rises and falls to weave the round mat, they cover up the
+exposed hemisphere. The result is a pill set in the middle of a
+circular carpet.
+
+The legs, hitherto idle, are now working. They take up and break off
+one by one the threads that keep the round mat stretched on the coarse
+supporting network. At the same time the fangs grip this sheet, lift it
+by degrees, tear it from its base and fold it over upon the globe of
+eggs. It is a laborious operation. The whole edifice totters, the floor
+collapses, fouled with sand. By a movement of the legs, those soiled
+shreds are cast aside. Briefly, by means of violent tugs of the fangs,
+which pull, and broom-like efforts of the legs, which clear away, the
+Lycosa extricates the bag of eggs and removes it as a clear-cut mass,
+free from any adhesion.
+
+It is a white-silk pill, soft to the touch and glutinous. Its size is
+that of an average cherry. An observant eye will notice, running
+horizontally around the middle, a fold which a needle is able to raise
+without breaking it. This hem, generally undistinguishable from the
+rest of the surface, is none other than the edge of the circular mat,
+drawn over the lower hemisphere. The other hemisphere, through which
+the youngsters will go out, is less well fortified: its only wrapper is
+the texture spun over the eggs immediately after they were laid.
+
+The work of spinning, followed by that of tearing, is continued for a
+whole morning, from five to nine o'clock. Worn out with fatigue, the
+mother embraces her dear pill and remains motionless. I shall see no
+more to-day. Next morning, I find the Spider carrying the bag of eggs
+slung from her stern.
+
+Henceforth, until the hatching, she does not leave go of the precious
+burden, which, fastened to the spinnerets by a short ligament, drags
+and bumps along the ground. With this load banging against her heels,
+she goes about her business; she walks or rests, she seeks her prey,
+attacks it and devours it. Should some accident cause the wallet to
+drop off, it is soon replaced. The spinnerets touch it somewhere,
+anywhere, and that is enough: adhesion is at once restored.
+
+When the work is done, some of them emancipate themselves, think they
+will have a look at the country before retiring for good and all. It is
+these whom we meet at times, wandering aimlessly and dragging their bag
+behind them. Sooner or later, however, the vagrants return home; and
+the month of August is not over before a straw rustled in any burrow
+will bring the mother up, with her wallet slung behind her. I am able
+to procure as many as I want and, with them, to indulge in certain
+experiments of the highest interest.
+
+It is a sight worth seeing, that of the Lycosa dragging her treasure
+after her, never leaving it, day or night, sleeping or waking, and
+defending it with a courage that strikes the beholder with awe. If I
+try to take the bag from her, she presses it to her breast in despair,
+hangs on to my pincers, bites them with her poison-fangs. I can hear
+the daggers grating on the steel. No, she would not allow herself to be
+robbed of the wallet with impunity, if my fingers were not supplied
+with an implement.
+
+By dint of pulling and shaking the pill with the forceps, I take it
+from the Lycosa, who protests furiously. I fling her in exchange a pill
+taken from another Lycosa. It is at once seized in the fangs, embraced
+by the legs and hung on to the spinneret. Her own or another's: it is
+all one to the Spider, who walks away proudly with the alien wallet.
+This was to be expected, in view of the similarity of the pills
+exchanged.
+
+A test of another kind, with a second subject, renders the mistake more
+striking. I substitute, in the place of the lawful bag which I have
+removed, the work of the Silky Epeira. The colour and softness of the
+material are the same in both cases; but the shape is quite different.
+The stolen object is a globe; the object presented in exchange is an
+elliptical conoid studded with angular projections along the edge of
+the base. The Spider takes no account of this dissimilarity. She
+promptly glues the queer bag to her spinnerets and is as pleased as
+though she were in possession of her real pill. My experimental
+villainies have no other consequence beyond an ephemeral carting. When
+hatching-time arrives, early in the case of Lycosa, late in that of the
+Epeira, the gulled Spider abandons the strange bag and pays it no
+further attention.
+
+Let us penetrate yet deeper into the wallet-bearer's stupidity. After
+depriving the Lycosa of her eggs, I throw her a ball of cork, roughly
+polished with a file and of the same size as the stolen pill. She
+accepts the corky substance, so different from the silk purse, without
+the least demur. One would have thought that she would recognize her
+mistake with those eight eyes of hers, which gleam like precious
+stones. The silly creature pays no attention. Lovingly she embraces the
+cork ball, fondles it with her palpi, fastens it to her spinnerets and
+thenceforth drags it after her as though she were dragging her own bag.
+
+Let us give another the choice between the imitation and the real. The
+rightful pill and the cork ball are placed together on the floor of the
+jar. Will the Spider be able to know the one that belongs to her? The
+fool is incapable of doing so. She makes a wild rush and seizes
+haphazard at one time her property, at another my sham product.
+Whatever is first touched becomes a good capture and is forthwith hung
+up.
+
+If I increase the number of cork balls, if I put in four or five of
+them, with the real pill among them, it is seldom that the Lycosa
+recovers her own property. Attempts at inquiry, attempts at selection
+there are none. Whatever she snaps up at random she sticks to, be it
+good or bad. As there are more of the sham pills of cork, these are the
+most often seized by the Spider.
+
+This obtuseness baffles me. Can the animal be deceived by the soft
+contact of the cork? I replace the cork balls by pellets of cotton or
+paper, kept in their round shape with a few bands of thread. Both are
+very readily accepted instead of the real bag that has been removed.
+
+Can the illusion be due to the colouring, which is light in the cork
+and not unlike the tint of the silk globe when soiled with a little
+earth, while it is white in the paper and the cotton, when it is
+identical with that of the original pill? I give the Lycosa, in
+exchange for her work, a pellet of silk thread, chosen of a fine red,
+the brightest of all colours. The uncommon pill is as readily accepted
+and as jealously guarded as the others.
+
+THE FAMILY.
+
+For three weeks and more the Lycosa trails the bag of eggs hanging to
+her spinnerets. The reader will remember the experiments described in
+the preceding section, particularly those with the cork ball and the
+thread pellet which the Spider so foolishly accepts in exchange for the
+real pill. Well, this exceedingly dull-witted mother, satisfied with
+aught that knocks against her heels, is about to make us wonder at her
+devotion.
+
+Whether she come up from her shaft to lean upon the kerb and bask in
+the sun, whether she suddenly retire underground in the face of danger,
+or whether she be roaming the country before settling down, never does
+she let go her precious bag, that very cumbrous burden in walking,
+climbing or leaping. If, by some accident, it become detached from the
+fastening to which it is hung, she flings herself madly on her treasure
+and lovingly embraces it, ready to bite whoso would take it from her. I
+myself am sometimes the thief. I then hear the points of the
+poison-fangs grinding against the steel of my pincers, which tug in one
+direction while the Lycosa tugs in the other. But let us leave the
+animal alone: with a quick touch of the spinnerets, the pill is
+restored to its place; and the Spider strides off, still menacing.
+
+Towards the end of summer, all the householders, old or young, whether
+in captivity on the window-sill or at liberty in the paths of the
+enclosure, supply me daily with the following improving sight. In the
+morning, as soon as the sun is hot and beats upon their burrow, the
+anchorites come up from the bottom with their bag and station
+themselves at the opening. Long siestas on the threshold in the sun are
+the order of the day throughout the fine season; but, at the present
+time, the position adopted is a different one. Formerly, the Lycosa
+came out into the sun for her own sake. Leaning on the parapet, she had
+the front half of her body outside the pit and the hinder half inside.
+The eyes took their fill of light; the belly remained in the dark. When
+carrying her egg-bag, the Spider reverses the posture: the front is in
+the pit, the rear outside. With her hind-legs she holds the white pill
+bulging with germs lifted above the entrance; gently she turns and
+turns it, so as to present every side to the life-giving rays. And this
+goes on for half the day, so long as the temperature is high; and it is
+repeated daily, with exquisite patience, during three or four weeks. To
+hatch its eggs, the bird covers them with the quilt of its breast; it
+strains them to the furnace of its heart. The Lycosa turns hers in
+front of the hearth of hearths: she gives them the sun as an incubator.
+
+In the early days of September the young ones, who have been some time
+hatched, are ready to come out.
+
+The whole family emerges from the bag straightway. Then and there, the
+youngsters climb to the mother's back. As for the empty bag, now a
+worthless shred, it is flung out of the burrow; the Lycosa does not
+give it a further thought. Huddled together, sometimes in two or three
+layers, according to their number, the little ones cover the whole back
+of the mother, who, for seven or eight months to come, will carry her
+family night and day. Nowhere can we hope to see a more edifying
+domestic picture than that of the Lycosa clothed in her young.
+
+From time to time I meet a little band of gipsies passing along the
+high-road on their way to some neighbouring fair. The new-born babe
+mewls on the mother's breast, in a hammock formed out of a kerchief.
+The last-weaned is carried pick-a-back; a third toddles clinging to its
+mother's skirts; others follow closely, the biggest in the rear,
+ferreting in the blackberry-laden hedgerows. It is a magnificent
+spectacle of happy-go-lucky fruitfulness. They go their way, penniless
+and rejoicing. The sun is hot and the earth is fertile.
+
+But how this picture pales before that of the Lycosa, that incomparable
+gipsy whose brats are numbered by the hundred! And one and all of them,
+from September to April, without a moment's respite, find room upon the
+patient creature's back, where they are content to lead a tranquil life
+and to be carted about.
+
+The little ones are very good; none moves, none seeks a quarrel with
+his neighbours. Clinging together, they form a continuous drapery, a
+shaggy ulster under which the mother becomes unrecognizable. Is it an
+animal, a fluff of wool, a cluster of small seeds fastened to one
+another? 'Tis impossible to tell at the first glance.
+
+The equilibrium of this living blanket is not so firm but that falls
+often occur, especially when the mother climbs from indoors and comes
+to the threshold to let the little ones take the sun. The least brush
+against the gallery unseats a part of the family. The mishap is not
+serious. The Hen, fidgeting about her Chicks, looks for the strays,
+calls them, gathers them together. The Lycosa knows not these maternal
+alarms. Impassively, she leaves those who drop off to manage their own
+difficulty, which they do with wonderful quickness. Commend me to those
+youngsters for getting up without whining, dusting themselves and
+resuming their seat in the saddle! The unhorsed ones promptly find a
+leg of the mother, the usual climbing-pole; they swarm up it as fast as
+they can and recover their places on the bearer's back. The living bark
+of animals is reconstructed in the twinkling of an eye.
+
+To speak here of mother-love were, I think, extravagant. The Lycosa's
+affection for her offspring hardly surpasses that of the plant, which
+is unacquainted with any tender feeling and nevertheless bestows the
+nicest and most delicate care upon its seeds. The animal, in many
+cases, knows no other sense of motherhood. What cares the Lycosa for
+her brood! She accepts another's as readily as her own; she is
+satisfied so long as her back is burdened with a swarming crowd,
+whether it issue from her ovaries or elsewhere. There is no question
+here of real maternal affection.
+
+I have described elsewhere the prowess of the Copris watching over
+cells that are not her handiwork and do not contain her offspring. With
+a zeal which even the additional labour laid upon her does not easily
+weary, she removes the mildew from the alien dung-balls, which far
+exceed the regular nests in number; she gently scrapes and polishes and
+repairs them; she listens attentively and enquires by ear into each
+nurseling's progress. Her real collection could not receive greater
+care. Her own family or another's: it is all one to her.
+
+The Lycosa is equally indifferent. I take a hair-pencil and sweep the
+living burden from one of my Spiders, making it fall close to another
+covered with her little ones. The evicted youngsters scamper about,
+find the new mother's legs outspread, nimbly clamber up these and mount
+on the back of the obliging creature, who quietly lets them have their
+way. They slip in among the others, or, when the layer is too thick,
+push to the front and pass from the abdomen to the thorax and even to
+the head, though leaving the region of the eyes uncovered. It does not
+do to blind the bearer: the common safety demands that. They know this
+and respect the lenses of the eyes, however populous the assembly be.
+The whole animal is now covered with a swarming carpet of young, all
+except the legs, which must preserve their freedom of action, and the
+under part of the body, where contact with the ground is to be feared.
+
+My pencil forces a third family upon the already over-burdened Spider;
+and this too is peacefully accepted. The youngsters huddle up closer,
+lie one on top of the other in layers and room is found for all. The
+Lycosa has lost the last semblance of an animal, has become a nameless
+bristling thing that walks about. Falls are frequent and are followed
+by continual climbings.
+
+I perceive that I have reached the limits, not of the bearer's
+good-will, but of equilibrium. The Spider would adopt an indefinite
+further number of foundlings, if the dimensions of her back afforded
+them a firm hold. Let us be content with this. Let us restore each
+family to its mother, drawing at random from the lot. There must
+necessarily be interchanges, but that is of no importance: real
+children and adopted children are the same thing in the Lycosa's eyes.
+
+One would like to know if, apart from my artifices, in circumstances
+where I do not interfere, the good-natured dry-nurse sometimes burdens
+herself with a supplementary family; it would also be interesting to
+learn what comes of this association of lawful offspring and strangers.
+I have ample materials wherewith to obtain an answer to both questions.
+I have housed in the same cage two elderly matrons laden with
+youngsters. Each has her home as far removed from the other's as the
+size of the common pan permits. The distance is nine inches or more. It
+is not enough. Proximity soon kindles fierce jealousies between those
+intolerant creatures, who are obliged to live far apart so as to secure
+adequate hunting-grounds.
+
+One morning I catch the two harridans fighting out their quarrel on the
+floor. The loser is laid flat upon her back; the victress, belly to
+belly with her adversary, clutches her with her legs and prevents her
+from moving a limb. Both have their poison-fangs wide open, ready to
+bite without yet daring, so mutually formidable are they. After a
+certain period of waiting, during which the pair merely exchange
+threats, the stronger of the two, the one on top, closes her lethal
+engine and grinds the head of the prostrate foe. Then she calmly
+devours the deceased by small mouthfuls.
+
+Now what do the youngsters do, while their mother is being eaten?
+Easily consoled, heedless of the atrocious scene, they climb on the
+conqueror's back and quietly take their places among the lawful family.
+The ogress raises no objection, accepts them as her own. She makes a
+meal off the mother and adopts the orphans.
+
+Let us add that, for many months yet, until the final emancipation
+comes, she will carry them without drawing any distinction between them
+and her own young. Henceforth the two families, united in so tragic a
+fashion, will form but one. We see how greatly out of place it would be
+to speak, in this connection, of mother-love and its fond
+manifestations.
+
+Does the Lycosa at least feed the younglings who, for seven months,
+swarm upon her back? Does she invite them to the banquet when she has
+secured a prize? I thought so at first; and, anxious to assist at the
+family repast, I devoted special attention to watching the mothers eat.
+As a rule, the prey is consumed out of sight, in the burrow; but
+sometimes also a meal is taken on the threshold, in the open air.
+Besides, it is easy to rear the Lycosa and her family in a wire-gauze
+cage, with a layer of earth wherein the captive will never dream of
+sinking a well, such work being out of season. Everything then happens
+in the open.
+
+Well, while the mother munches, chews, expresses the juices and
+swallows, the youngsters do not budge from their camping-ground on her
+back. Not one quits its place nor gives a sign of wishing to slip down
+and join in the meal. Nor does the mother extend an invitation to them
+to come and recruit themselves, nor put any broken victuals aside for
+them. She feeds and the others look on, or rather remain indifferent to
+what is happening. Their perfect quiet during the Lycosa's feast points
+to the possession of a stomach that knows no cravings.
+
+Then with what are they sustained, during their seven months'
+upbringing on the mother's back? One conceives a notion of exudations
+supplied by the bearer's body, in which case the young would feed on
+their mother, after the manner of parasitic vermin, and gradually drain
+her strength.
+
+We must abandon this notion. Never are they seen to put their mouths to
+the skin that should be a sort of teat to them. On the other hand, the
+Lycosa, far from being exhausted and shrivelling, keeps perfectly well
+and plump. She has the same pot-belly when she finishes rearing her
+young as when she began. She has not lost weight: far from it; on the
+contrary, she has put on flesh: she has gained the wherewithal to beget
+a new family next summer, one as numerous as to-day's.
+
+Once more, with what do the little ones keep up their strength? We do
+not like to suggest reserves supplied by the egg as rectifying the
+animal's expenditure of vital force, especially when we consider that
+those reserves, themselves so close to nothing, must be economized in
+view of the silk, a material of the highest importance, of which a
+plentiful use will be made presently. There must be other powers at
+play in the tiny animal's machinery.
+
+Total abstinence from food could be understood, if it were accompanied
+by inertia: immobility is not life. But the young Lycosae, though
+usually quiet on their mother's back, are at all times ready for
+exercise and for agile swarming. When they fall from the maternal
+perambulator, they briskly pick themselves up, briskly scramble up a
+leg and make their way to the top. It is a splendidly nimble and
+spirited performance. Besides, once seated, they have to keep a firm
+balance in the mass; they have to stretch and stiffen their little
+limbs in order to hang on to their neighbours. As a matter of fact,
+there is no absolute rest for them. Now physiology teaches us that not
+a fibre works without some expenditure of energy. The animal, which can
+be likened, in no small measure, to our industrial machines, demands,
+on the one hand, the renovation of its organism, which wears out with
+movement, and, on the other, the maintenance of the heat transformed
+into action. We can compare it with the locomotive-engine. As the iron
+horse performs its work, it gradually wears out its pistons, its rods,
+its wheels, its boiler-tubes, all of which have to be made good from
+time to time. The founder and the smith repair it, supply it, so to
+speak, with 'plastic food,' the food that becomes embodied with the
+whole and forms part of it. But, though it have just come from the
+engine-shop, it is still inert. To acquire the power of movement it
+must receive from the stoker a supply of 'energy-producing food'; in
+other words, he lights a few shovelfuls of coal in its inside. This
+heat will produce mechanical work.
+
+Even so with the beast. As nothing is made from nothing, the egg
+supplies first the materials of the new-born animal; then the plastic
+food, the smith of living creatures, increases the body, up to a
+certain limit, and renews it as it wears away. The stoker works at the
+same time, without stopping. Fuel, the source of energy, makes but a
+short stay in the system, where it is consumed and furnishes heat,
+whence movement is derived. Life is a fire-box. Warmed by its food, the
+animal machine moves, walks, runs, jumps, swims, flies, sets its
+locomotory apparatus going in a thousand manners.
+
+To return to the young Lycosae, they grow no larger until the period of
+their emancipation. I find them at the age of seven months the same as
+when I saw them at their birth. The egg supplied the materials
+necessary for their tiny frames; and, as the loss of waste substance
+is, for the moment, excessively small, or even nil, additional plastic
+food is not needed so long as the wee creature does not grow. In this
+respect, the prolonged abstinence presents no difficulty. But there
+remains the question of energy-producing food, which is indispensable,
+for the little Lycosa moves, when necessary, and very actively at that.
+To what shall we attribute the heat expended upon action, when the
+animal takes absolutely no nourishment?
+
+An idea suggests itself. We say to ourselves that, without being life,
+a machine is something more than matter, for man has added a little of
+his mind to it. Now the iron beast, consuming its ration of coal, is
+really browsing the ancient foliage of arborescent ferns in which solar
+energy has accumulated.
+
+Beasts of flesh and blood act no otherwise. Whether they mutually
+devour one another or levy tribute on the plant, they invariably
+quicken themselves with the stimulant of the sun's heat, a heat stored
+in grass, fruit, seed and those which feed on such. The sun, the soul
+of the universe, is the supreme dispenser of energy.
+
+Instead of being served up through the intermediary of food and passing
+through the ignominious circuit of gastric chemistry, could not this
+solar energy penetrate the animal directly and charge it with activity,
+even as the battery charges an accumulator with power? Why not live on
+sun, seeing that, after all, we find naught but sun in the fruits which
+we consume?
+
+Chemical science, that bold revolutionary, promises to provide us with
+synthetic foodstuffs. The laboratory and the factory will take the
+place of the farm. Why should not physical science step in as well? It
+would leave the preparation of plastic food to the chemist's retorts;
+it would reserve for itself that of energy-producing food which,
+reduced to its exact terms, ceases to be matter. With the aid of some
+ingenious apparatus, it would pump into us our daily ration of solar
+energy, to be later expended in movement, whereby the machine would be
+kept going without the often painful assistance of the stomach and its
+adjuncts. What a delightful world, where one could lunch off a ray of
+sunshine!
+
+Is it a dream, or the anticipation of a remote reality? The problem is
+one of the most important that science can set us. Let us first hear
+the evidence of the young Lycosae regarding its possibilities.
+
+For seven months, without any material nourishment, they expend
+strength in moving. To wind up the mechanism of their muscles, they
+recruit themselves direct with heat and light. During the time when she
+was dragging the bag of eggs behind her, the mother, at the best
+moments of the day, came and held up her pill to the sun. With her two
+hind-legs she lifted it out of the ground into the full light; slowly
+she turned it and turned it, so that every side might receive its share
+of the vivifying rays. Well, this bath of life, which awakened the
+germs, is now prolonged to keep the tender babes active.
+
+Daily, if the sky be clear, the Lycosa, carrying her young, comes up
+from the burrow, leans on the kerb and spends long hours basking in the
+sun. Here, on their mother's back, the youngsters stretch their limbs
+delightedly, saturate themselves with heat, take in reserves of
+motor-power, absorb energy.
+
+They are motionless; but, if I only blow upon them, they stampede as
+nimbly as though a hurricane were passing. Hurriedly, they disperse;
+hurriedly, they reassemble: a proof that, without material nourishment,
+the little animal machine is always at full pressure, ready to work.
+When the shade comes, mother and sons go down again, surfeited with
+solar emanations. The feast of energy at the Sun Tavern is finished for
+the day.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 10. THE BANDED EPEIRA.
+
+BUILDING THE WEB.
+
+The fowling-snare is one of man's ingenious villainies. With lines,
+pegs and poles, two large, earth- nets are stretched upon the
+ground, one to the right, the other to the left of a bare surface. A
+long cord, pulled at the right moment by the fowler, who hides in a
+brushwood hut, works them and brings them together suddenly, like a
+pair of shutters.
+
+Divided between the two nets are the cages of the decoy-birds--Linnets
+and Chaffinches, Greenfinches and Yellowhammers, Buntings and
+Ortolans--sharp-eared creatures which, on perceiving the distant
+passage of a flock of their own kind, forthwith utter a short calling
+note. One of them, the Sambe, an irresistible tempter, hops about and
+flaps his wings in apparent freedom. A bit of twine fastens him to his
+convict's stake. When, worn with fatigue and driven desperate by his
+vain attempts to get away, the sufferer lies down flat and refuses to
+do his duty, the fowler is able to stimulate him without stirring from
+his hut. A long string sets in motion a little lever working on a
+pivot. Raised from the ground by this diabolical contrivance, the bird
+flies, falls down and flies up again at each jerk of the cord.
+
+The fowler waits, in the mild sunlight of the autumn morning. Suddenly,
+great excitement in the cages. The Chaffinches chirp their rallying
+cry:
+
+"Pinck! Pinck!"
+
+There is something happening in the sky. The Sambe, quick! They are
+coming, the simpletons; they swoop down upon the treacherous floor.
+With a rapid movement, the man in ambush pulls his string. The nets
+close and the whole flock is caught.
+
+Man has wild beast's blood in his veins. The fowler hastens to the
+slaughter. With his thumb he stifles the beating of the captives'
+hearts, staves in their skulls. The little birds, so many piteous heads
+of game, will go to market, strung in dozens on a wire passed through
+their nostrils.
+
+For scoundrelly ingenuity, the Epeira's net can bear comparison with
+the fowler's; it even surpasses it when, on patient study, the main
+features of its supreme perfection stand revealed. What refinement of
+art for a mess of Flies! Nowhere, in the whole animal kingdom, has the
+need to eat inspired a more cunning industry. If the reader will
+meditate upon the description that follows, he will certainly share my
+admiration.
+
+In bearing and colouring, Epeira fasciata is the handsomest of the
+Spiders of the South. On her fat belly, a mighty silk-warehouse nearly
+as large as a hazel-nut, are alternate yellow, black and silver sashes,
+to which she owes her epithet of Banded. Around that portly abdomen the
+eight long legs, with their dark- and pale-brown rings, radiate like
+spokes.
+
+Any small prey suits her; and, as long as she can find supports for her
+web, she settles wherever the Locust hops, wherever the Fly hovers,
+wherever the Dragon-fly dances or the Butterfly flits. As a rule,
+because of the greater abundance of game, she spreads her toils across
+some brooklet, from bank to bank among the rushes. She also stretches
+them, but not so assiduously, in the thickets of evergreen oak, on the
+<DW72>s with the scrubby greenswards, dear to the Grasshoppers.
+
+Her hunting-weapon is a large upright web, whose outer boundary, which
+varies according to the disposition of the ground, is fastened to the
+neighbouring branches by a number of moorings. Let us see, first of
+all, how the ropes which form the framework of the building are
+obtained.
+
+All day invisible, crouching amid the cypress-leaves, the Spider, at
+about eight o'clock in the evening, solemnly emerges from her retreat
+and makes for the top of a branch. In this exalted position she sits
+for sometime laying her plans with due regard to the locality; she
+consults the weather, ascertains if the night will be fine. Then,
+suddenly, with her eight legs widespread, she lets herself drop
+straight down, hanging to the line that issues from her spinnerets.
+Just as the rope-maker obtains the even output of his hemp by walking
+backwards, so does the Epeira obtain the discharge of hers by falling.
+It is extracted by the weight of her body.
+
+The descent, however, has not the brute speed which the force of
+gravity would give it, if uncontrolled. It is governed by the action of
+the spinnerets, which contract or expand their pores, or close them
+entirely, at the faller's pleasure. And so, with gentle moderation, she
+pays out this living plumb-line, of which my lantern clearly shows me
+the plumb, but not always the line. The great squab seems at such times
+to be sprawling in space, without the least support.
+
+She comes to an abrupt stop two inches from the ground; the silk-reel
+ceases working. The Spider turns round, clutches the line which she has
+just obtained and climbs up by this road, still spinning. But, this
+time, as she is no longer assisted by the force of gravity, the thread
+is extracted in another manner. The two hind-legs, with a quick
+alternate action, draw it from the wallet and let it go.
+
+On returning to her starting-point, at a height of six feet or more,
+the Spider is now in possession of a double line, bent into a loop and
+floating loosely in a current of air. She fixes her end where it suits
+her and waits until the other end, wafted by the wind, has fastened its
+loop to the adjacent twigs.
+
+Feeling her thread fixed, the Epeira runs along it repeatedly, from end
+to end, adding a fibre to it on each journey. Whether I help or not,
+this forms the "suspension cable," the main piece of the framework. I
+call it a cable, in spite of its extreme thinness, because of its
+structure. It looks as though it were single, but, at the two ends, it
+is seen to divide and spread, tuft-wise, into numerous constituent
+parts, which are the product of as many crossings. These diverging
+fibres, with their several contact-points, increase the steadiness of
+the two extremities.
+
+The suspension-cable is incomparably stronger than the rest of the work
+and lasts for an indefinite time. The web is generally shattered after
+the night's hunting and is nearly always rewoven on the following
+evening. After the removal of the wreckage, it is made all over again,
+on the same site, cleared of everything except the cable from which the
+new network is to hang.
+
+Once the cable is laid, in this way or in that, the Spider is in
+possession of a base that allows her to approach or withdraw from the
+leafy piers at will. From the height of the cable she lets herself slip
+to a slight depth, varying the points of her fall. In this way she
+obtains, to right and left, a few slanting cross-bars, connecting the
+cable with the branches.
+
+These cross-bars, in their turn, support others in ever changing
+directions. When there are enough of them, the Epeira need no longer
+resort to falls in order to extract her threads; she goes from one cord
+to the next, always wire-drawing with her hind-legs. This results in a
+combination of straight lines owning no order, save that they are kept
+in one nearly perpendicular plane. Thus is marked out a very irregular
+polygonal area, wherein the web, itself a work of magnificent
+regularity, shall presently be woven.
+
+In the lower part of the web, starting from the centre, a wide opaque
+ribbon descends zigzag-wise across the radii. This is the Epeira's
+trade-mark, the flourish of an artist initialling his creation. "Fecit
+So-and-so," she seems to say, when giving the last throw of the shuttle
+to her handiwork.
+
+That the Spider feels satisfied when, after passing and repassing from
+spoke to spoke, she finishes her spiral, is beyond a doubt: the work
+achieved ensures her food for a few days to come. But, in this
+particular case, the vanity of the spinstress has naught to say to the
+matter: the strong silk zigzag is added to impart greater firmness to
+the web.
+
+THE LIME-SNARE.
+
+The spiral network of the Epeirae possesses contrivances of fearsome
+cunning. The thread that forms it is seen with the naked eye to differ
+from that of the framework and the spokes. It glitters in the sun,
+looks as though it were knotted and gives the impression of a chaplet
+of atoms. To examine it through the lens on the web itself is scarcely
+feasible, because of the shaking of the fabric, which trembles at the
+least breath. By passing a sheet of glass under the web and lifting it,
+I take away a few pieces of thread to study, pieces that remain fixed
+to the glass in parallel lines. Lens and microscope can now play their
+part.
+
+The sight is perfectly astounding. Those threads, on the borderland
+between the visible and the invisible, are very closely twisted twine,
+similar to the gold cord of our officers' sword-knots. Moreover, they
+are hollow. The infinitely slender is a tube, a channel full of a
+viscous moisture resembling a strong solution of gum arabic. I can see
+a diaphanous trail of this moisture trickling through the broken ends.
+Under the pressure of the thin glass slide that covers them on the
+stage of the microscope, the twists lengthen out, become crinkled
+ribbons, traversed from end to end, through the middle, by a dark
+streak, which is the empty container.
+
+The fluid contents must ooze slowly through the side of those tubular
+threads, rolled into twisted strings, and thus render the network
+sticky. It is sticky, in fact, and in such a way as to provoke
+surprise. I bring a fine straw flat down upon three or four rungs of a
+sector. However gentle the contact, adhesion is at once established.
+When I lift the straw, the threads come with it and stretch to twice or
+three times their length, like a thread of india-rubber. At last, when
+over-taut, they loosen without breaking and resume their original form.
+They lengthen by unrolling their twist, they shorten by rolling it
+again; lastly, they become adhesive by taking the glaze of the gummy
+moisture wherewith they are filled.
+
+In short, the spiral thread is a capillary tube finer than any that our
+physics will ever know. It is rolled into a twist so as to possess an
+elasticity that allows it, without breaking, to yield to the tugs of
+the captured prey; it holds a supply of sticky matter in reserve in its
+tube, so as to renew the adhesive properties of the surface by
+incessant exudation, as they become impaired by exposure to the air. It
+is simply marvellous.
+
+The Epeira hunts not with springs, but with lime-snares. And such
+lime-snares! Everything is caught in them, down to the dandelion-plume
+that barely brushes against them. Nevertheless, the Epeira, who is in
+constant touch with her web, is not caught in them. Why? Because the
+Spider has contrived for herself, in the middle of her trap, a floor in
+whose construction the sticky spiral thread plays no part. There is
+here, covering a space which, in the larger webs, is about equal to the
+palm of one's hand, a neutral fabric in which the exploring straw finds
+no adhesiveness anywhere.
+
+Here, on this central resting-floor, and here only, the Epeira takes
+her stand, waiting whole days for the arrival of the game. However
+close, however prolonged her contact with this portion of the web, she
+runs no risk of sticking to it, because the gummy coating is lacking,
+as is the twisted and tubular structure, throughout the length of the
+spokes and throughout the extent of the auxiliary spiral. These pieces,
+together with the rest of the framework, are made of plain, straight,
+solid thread.
+
+But when a victim is caught, sometimes right at the edge of the web,
+the Spider has to rush up quickly, to bind it and overcome its attempts
+to free itself. She is walking then upon her network; and I do not find
+that she suffers the least inconvenience. The lime-threads are not even
+lifted by the movements of her legs.
+
+In my boyhood, when a troop of us would go, on Thursdays (The weekly
+half-day in French schools.--Translator's Note.), to try and catch a
+Goldfinch in the hemp-fields, we used, before covering the twigs with
+glue, to grease our fingers with a few drops of oil, lest we should get
+them caught in the sticky matter. Does the Epeira know the secret of
+fatty substances? Let us try.
+
+I rub my exploring straw with slightly oiled paper. When applied to the
+spiral thread of the web, it now no longer sticks to it. The principle
+is discovered. I pull out the leg of a live Epeira. Brought just as it
+is into contact with the lime-threads, it does not stick to them any
+more than to the neutral cords, whether spokes or part of the
+framework. We were entitled to expect this, judging by the Spider's
+general immunity.
+
+But here is something that wholly alters the result. I put the leg to
+soak for a quarter of an hour in disulphide of carbon, the best solvent
+of fatty matters. I wash it carefully with a brush dipped in the same
+fluid. When this washing is finished, the leg sticks to the
+snaring-thread quite easily and adheres to it just as well as anything
+else would, the unoiled straw, for instance.
+
+Did I guess aright when I judged that it was a fatty substance that
+preserved the Epeira from the snares of her sticky Catherine-wheel? The
+action of the carbon-disulphide seems to say yes. Besides, there is no
+reason why a substance of this kind, which plays so frequent a part in
+animal economy, should not coat the Spider very slightly by the mere
+act of perspiration. We used to rub our fingers with a little oil
+before handling the twigs in which the Goldfinch was to be caught; even
+so the Epeira varnishes herself with a special sweat, to operate on any
+part of her web without fear of the lime-threads.
+
+However, an unduly protracted stay on the sticky threads would have its
+drawbacks. In the long run, continual contact with those threads might
+produce a certain adhesion and inconvenience to the Spider, who must
+preserve all her agility in order to rush upon the prey before it can
+release itself. For this reason, gummy threads are never used in
+building the post of interminable waiting.
+
+It is only on her resting-floor that the Epeira sits, motionless and
+with her eight legs outspread, ready to mark the least quiver in the
+net. It is here, again, that she takes her meals, often long-drawn out,
+when the joint is a substantial one; it is hither that, after trussing
+and nibbling it, she drags her prey at the end of a thread, to consume
+it at her ease on a non-viscous mat. As a hunting-post and refectory,
+the Epeira has contrived a central space, free from glue.
+
+As for the glue itself, it is hardly possible to study its chemical
+properties, because the quantity is so slight. The microscope shows it
+trickling from the broken threads in the form of a transparent and more
+or less granular streak. The following experiment will tell us more
+about it.
+
+With a sheet of glass passed across the web, I gather a series of
+lime-threads which remain fixed in parallel lines. I cover this sheet
+with a bell-jar standing in a depth of water. Soon, in this atmosphere
+saturated with humidity, the threads become enveloped in a watery
+sheath, which gradually increases and begins to flow. The twisted shape
+has by this time disappeared; and the channel of the thread reveals a
+chaplet of translucent orbs, that is to say, a series of extremely fine
+drops.
+
+In twenty-four hours the threads have lost their contents and are
+reduced to almost invisible streaks. If I then lay a drop of water on
+the glass, I get a sticky solution similar to that which a particle of
+gum arabic might yield. The conclusion is evident: the Epeira's glue is
+a substance that absorbs moisture freely. In an atmosphere with a high
+degree of humidity, it becomes saturated and percolates by sweating
+through the side of the tubular threads.
+
+These data explain certain facts relating to the work of the net. The
+Epeirae weave at very early hours, long before dawn. Should the air
+turn misty, they sometimes leave that part of the task unfinished: they
+build the general framework, they lay the spokes, they even draw the
+auxiliary spiral, for all these parts are unaffected by excess of
+moisture; but they are very careful not to work at the lime-threads,
+which, if soaked by the fog, would dissolve into sticky shreds and lose
+their efficacy by being wetted. The net that was started will be
+finished to-morrow, if the atmosphere be favourable.
+
+While the highly-absorbent character of the snaring-thread has its
+drawbacks, it also has compensating advantages. The Epeirae, when
+hunting by day, affect those hot places, exposed to the fierce rays of
+the sun, wherein the Crickets delight. In the torrid heats of the
+dog-days, therefore, the lime-threads, but for special provisions,
+would be liable to dry up, to shrivel into stiff and lifeless
+filaments. But the very opposite happens. At the most scorching times
+of the day they continue supple, elastic and more and more adhesive.
+
+How is this brought about? By their very powers of absorption. The
+moisture of which the air is never deprived penetrates them slowly; it
+dilutes the thick contents of their tubes to the requisite degree and
+causes it to ooze through, as and when the earlier stickiness
+decreases. What bird-catcher could vie with the Garden Spider in the
+art of laying lime-snares? And all this industry and cunning for the
+capture of a Moth!
+
+I should like an anatomist endowed with better implements than mine and
+with less tired eyesight to explain to us the work of the marvellous
+rope-yard. How is the silken matter moulded into a capillary tube? How
+is this tube filled with glue and tightly twisted? And how does this
+same mill also turn out plain threads, wrought first into a framework
+and then into muslin and satin? What a number of products to come from
+that curious factory, a Spider's belly! I behold the results, but fail
+to understand the working of the machine. I leave the problem to the
+masters of the microtome and the scalpel.
+
+THE HUNT.
+
+The Epeirae are monuments of patience in their lime-snare. With her
+head down and her eight legs widespread, the Spider occupies the centre
+of the web, the receiving-point of the information sent along the
+spokes. If anywhere, behind or before, a vibration occur, the sign of a
+capture, the Epeira knows about it, even without the aid of sight. She
+hastens up at once.
+
+Until then, not a movement: one would think that the animal was
+hypnotized by her watching. At most, on the appearance of anything
+suspicious, she begins shaking her nest. This is her way of inspiring
+the intruder with awe. If I myself wish to provoke the singular alarm,
+I have but to tease the Epeira with a bit of straw. You cannot have a
+swing without an impulse of some sort. The terror-stricken Spider, who
+wishes to strike terror into others, has hit upon something much
+better. With nothing to push her, she swings with the floor of ropes.
+There is no effort, no visible exertion. Not a single part of the
+animal moves; and yet everything trembles. Violent shaking proceeds
+from apparent inertia. Rest causes commotion.
+
+When calm is restored, she resumes her attitude, ceaselessly pondering
+the harsh problem of life:
+
+"Shall I dine to-day, or not?"
+
+Certain privileged beings, exempt from those anxieties, have food in
+abundance and need not struggle to obtain it. Such is the Gentle, who
+swims blissfully in the broth of the putrefying Adder. Others--and, by
+a strange irony of fate, these are generally the most gifted--only
+manage to eat by dint of craft and patience.
+
+You are of their company, O my industrious Epeirae! So that you may
+dine, you spend your treasures of patience nightly; and often without
+result. I sympathize with your woes, for I, who am as concerned as you
+about my daily bread, I also doggedly spread my net, the net for
+catching ideas, a more elusive and less substantial prize than the
+Moth. Let us not lose heart. The best part of life is not in the
+present, still less in the past; it lies in the future, the domain of
+hope. Let us wait.
+
+All day long, the sky, of a uniform grey, has appeared to be brewing a
+storm. In spite of the threatened downpour, my neighbour, who is a
+shrewd weather-prophet, has come out of the cypress-tree and begun to
+renew her web at the regular hour. Her forecast is correct: it will be
+a fine night. See, the steaming-pan of the clouds splits open; and,
+through the apertures, the moon peeps, inquisitively. I too, lantern in
+hand, am peeping. A gust of wind from the north clears the realms on
+high; the sky becomes magnificent; perfect calm reigns below. The Moths
+begin their nightly rounds. Good! One is caught, a mighty fine one. The
+Spider will dine to-day.
+
+What happens next, in an uncertain light, does not lend itself to
+accurate observation. It is better to turn to those Garden Spiders who
+never leave their web and who hunt mainly in the daytime. The Banded
+and the Silky Epeira, both of whom live on the rosemaries in the
+enclosure, shall show us in broad daylight the innermost details of the
+tragedy.
+
+I myself place on the lime-snare a victim of my selecting. Its six legs
+are caught without more ado. If the insect raises one of its tarsi and
+pulls towards itself, the treacherous thread follows, unwinds slightly
+and, without letting go or breaking, yields to the captive's desperate
+jerks. Any limb released only tangles the others still more and is
+speedily recaptured by the sticky matter. There is no means of escape,
+except by smashing the trap with a sudden effort whereof even powerful
+insects are not always capable.
+
+Warned by the shaking of the net, the Epeira hastens up; she turns
+round about the quarry; she inspects it at a distance, so as to
+ascertain the extent of the danger before attacking. The strength of
+the snareling will decide the plan of campaign. Let us first suppose
+the usual case, that of an average head of game, a Moth or Fly of some
+sort. Facing her prisoner, the Spider contracts her abdomen slightly
+and touches the insect for a moment with the end of her spinnerets;
+then, with her front tarsi, she sets her victim spinning. The Squirrel,
+in the moving cylinder of his cage, does not display a more graceful or
+nimbler dexterity. A cross-bar of the sticky spiral serves as an axis
+for the tiny machine, which turns, turns swiftly, like a spit. It is a
+treat to the eyes to see it revolve.
+
+What is the object of this circular motion? It is this: the brief
+contact of the spinnerets has given a starting-point for a thread,
+which the Spider must now draw from her silk warehouse and gradually
+roll around the captive, so as to swathe him in a winding-sheet which
+will overpower any effort made. It is the exact process employed in our
+wire-mills: a motor-driven spool revolves and, by its action, draws the
+wire through the narrow eyelet of a steel plate, making it of the
+fineness required, and, with the same movement, winds it round and
+round its collar.
+
+Even so with the Epeira's work. The Spider's front tarsi are the motor;
+the revolving spool is the captured insect; the steel eyelet is the
+aperture of the spinnerets. To bind the subject with precision and
+dispatch nothing could be better than this inexpensive and highly
+effective method.
+
+Less frequently, a second process is employed. With a quick movement,
+the Spider herself turns round about the motionless insect, crossing
+the web first at the top and then at the bottom and gradually placing
+the fastenings of her line. The great elasticity of the lime-threads
+allows the Epeira to fling herself time after time right into the web
+and to pass through it without damaging the net.
+
+Let us now suppose the case of some dangerous game: a Praying Mantis,
+for instance, brandishing her lethal limbs, each hooked and fitted with
+a double saw; an angry Hornet, darting her awful sting; a sturdy
+Beetle, invincible under his horny armour. These are exceptional
+morsels, hardly ever known to the Epeirae. Will they be accepted, if
+supplied by my stratagems?
+
+They are, but not without caution. The game is seen to be perilous of
+approach and the Spider turns her back upon it instead of facing it;
+she trains her rope-cannon upon it. Quickly the hind-legs draw from the
+spinnerets something much better than single cords. The whole
+silk-battery works at one and the same time, firing a regular volley of
+ribbons and sheets, which a wide movement of the legs spreads fan-wise
+and flings over the entangled prisoner. Guarding against sudden starts,
+the Epeira casts her armfuls of bands on the front- and hind-parts,
+over the legs and over the wings, here, there and everywhere,
+extravagantly. The most fiery prey is promptly mastered under this
+avalanche. In vain the Mantis tries to open her saw-toothed arm-guards;
+in vain the Hornet makes play with her dagger; in vain the Beetle
+stiffens his legs and arches his back: a fresh wave of threads swoops
+down and paralyses every effort.
+
+The ancient retiarius, when pitted against a powerful wild beast,
+appeared in the arena with a rope-net folded over his left shoulder.
+The animal made its spring. The man, with a sudden movement of his
+right arm, cast the net after the manner of the fisherman; he covered
+the beast and tangled it in the meshes. A thrust of the trident gave
+the quietus to the vanquished foe.
+
+The Epeira acts in like fashion, with this advantage, that she is able
+to renew her armful of fetters. Should the first not suffice, a second
+instantly follows and another and yet another, until the reserves of
+silk become exhausted.
+
+When all movement ceases under the snowy winding-sheet, the Spider goes
+up to her bound prisoner. She has a better weapon than the bestiarius'
+trident: she has her poison-fangs. She gnaws at the Locust, without
+undue persistence, and then withdraws, leaving the torpid patient to
+pine away.
+
+These lavished, far-flung ribbons threaten to exhaust the factory; it
+would be much more economical to resort to the method of the spool;
+but, to turn the machine, the Spider would have to go up to it and work
+it with her leg. This is too risky; and hence the continuous spray of
+silk, at a safe distance. When all is used up, there is more to come.
+
+Still, the Epeira seems concerned at this excessive outlay. When
+circumstances permit, she gladly returns to the mechanism of the
+revolving spool. I saw her practice this abrupt change of tactics on a
+big Beetle, with a smooth, plump body, which lent itself admirably to
+the rotary process. After depriving the beast of all power of movement,
+she went up to it and turned her corpulent victim as she would have
+done with a medium-sized Moth.
+
+But with the Praying Mantis, sticking out her long legs and her
+spreading wings, rotation is no longer feasible. Then, until the quarry
+is thoroughly subdued, the spray of bandages goes on continuously, even
+to the point of drying up the silk glands. A capture of this kind is
+ruinous. It is true that, except when I interfered, I have never seen
+the Spider tackle that formidable provender.
+
+Be it feeble or strong, the game is now neatly trussed, by one of the
+two methods. The next move never varies. The bound insect is bitten,
+without persistency and without any wound that shows. The Spider next
+retires and allows the bite to act, which it soon does. She then
+returns.
+
+If the victim be small, a Clothes-moth, for instance, it is consumed on
+the spot, at the place where it was captured. But, for a prize of some
+importance, on which she hopes to feast for many an hour, sometimes for
+many a day, the Spider needs a sequestered dining-room, where there is
+naught to fear from the stickiness of the network. Before going to it,
+she first makes her prey turn in the converse direction to that of the
+original rotation. Her object is to free the nearest spokes, which
+supplied pivots for the machinery. They are essential factors which it
+behoves her to keep intact, if need be by sacrificing a few cross-bars.
+
+It is done; the twisted ends are put back into position. The
+well-trussed game is at last removed from the web and fastened on
+behind with a thread. The Spider then marches in front and the load is
+trundled across the web and hoisted to the resting-floor, which is both
+an inspection-post and a dining-hall. When the Spider is of a species
+that shuns the light and possesses a telegraph-line, she mounts to her
+daytime hiding-place along this line, with the game bumping against her
+heels.
+
+While she is refreshing herself, let us enquire into the effects of the
+little bite previously administered to the silk-swathed captive. Does
+the Spider kill the patient with a view to avoiding unseasonable jerks,
+protests so disagreeable at dinner-time? Several reasons make me doubt
+it. In the first place, the attack is so much veiled as to have all the
+appearance of a mere kiss. Besides, it is made anywhere, at the first
+spot that offers. The expert slayers employ methods of the highest
+precision: they give a stab in the neck, or under the throat; they
+wound the cervical nerve-centres, the seat of energy. The paralysers,
+those accomplished anatomists, poison the motor nerve-centres, of which
+they know the number and position. The Epeira possesses none of this
+fearsome knowledge. She inserts her fangs at random, as the Bee does
+her sting. She does not select one spot rather than another; she bites
+indifferently at whatever comes within reach. This being so, her poison
+would have to possess unparalleled virulence to produce a corpse-like
+inertia no matter which the point attacked. I can scarcely believe in
+instantaneous death resulting from the bite, especially in the case of
+insects, with their highly-resistant organisms.
+
+Besides, is it really a corpse that the Epeira wants, she who feeds on
+blood much more than on flesh? It were to her advantage to suck a live
+body, wherein the flow of the liquids, set in movement by the pulsation
+of the dorsal vessel, that rudimentary heart of insects, must act more
+freely than in a lifeless body, with its stagnant fluids. The game
+which the Spider means to suck dry might very well not be dead. This is
+easily ascertained.
+
+I place some Locusts of different species on the webs in my menagerie,
+one on this, another on that. The Spider comes rushing up, binds the
+prey, nibbles at it gently and withdraws, waiting for the bite to take
+effect. I then take the insect and carefully strip it of its silken
+shroud. The Locust is not dead; far from it; one would even think that
+he had suffered no harm. I examine the released prisoner through the
+lens in vain; I can see no trace of a wound.
+
+Can he be unscathed, in spite of the sort of kiss which I saw given to
+him just now? You would be ready to say so, judging by the furious way
+in which he kicks in my fingers. Nevertheless, when put on the ground,
+he walks awkwardly, he seems reluctant to hop. Perhaps it is a
+temporary trouble, caused by his terrible excitement in the web. It
+looks as though it would soon pass.
+
+I lodge my Locusts in cages, with a lettuce-leaf to console them for
+their trials; but they will not be comforted. A day elapses, followed
+by a second. Not one of them touches the leaf of salad; their appetite
+has disappeared. Their movements become more uncertain, as though
+hampered by irresistible torpor. On the second day they are dead,
+everyone irrecoverably dead.
+
+The Epeira, therefore, does not incontinently kill her prey with her
+delicate bite; she poisons it so as to produce a gradual weakness,
+which gives the blood-sucker ample time to drain her victim, without
+the least risk, before the rigor mortis stops the flow of moisture.
+
+The meal lasts quite twenty-four hours, if the joint be large; and to
+the very end the butchered insect retains a remnant of life, a
+favourable condition for the exhausting of the juices. Once again, we
+see a skilful method of slaughter, very different from the tactics in
+use among the expert paralysers or slayers. Here there is no display of
+anatomical science. Unacquainted with the patient's structure, the
+Spider stabs at random. The virulence of the poison does the rest.
+
+There are, however, some very few cases in which the bite is speedily
+mortal. My notes speak of an Angular Epeira grappling with the largest
+Dragon-fly in my district (Aeshna grandis, Lin.) I myself had entangled
+in the web this head of big game, which is not often captured by the
+Epeirae. The net shakes violently, seems bound to break its moorings.
+The Spider rushes from her leafy villa, runs boldly up to the giantess,
+flings a single bundle of ropes at her and, without further
+precautions, grips her with her legs, tries to subdue her and then digs
+her fangs into the Dragon-fly's back. The bite is prolonged in such a
+way as to astonish me. This is not the perfunctory kiss with which I am
+already familiar; it is a deep, determined wound. After striking her
+blow, the Spider retires to a certain distance and waits for her poison
+to take effect.
+
+I at once remove the Dragon-fly. She is dead, really and truly dead.
+Laid upon my table and left alone for twenty-four hours, she makes not
+the slightest movement. A prick of which my lens cannot see the marks,
+so sharp-pointed are the Epeira's weapons, was enough, with a little
+insistence, to kill the powerful animal. Proportionately, the
+Rattlesnake, the Horned Viper, the Trigonocephalus and other ill-famed
+serpents produce less paralysing effects upon their victims.
+
+And these Epeirae, so terrible to insects, I am able to handle without
+any fear. My skin does not suit them. If I persuaded them to bite me,
+what would happen to me? Hardly anything. We have more cause to dread
+the sting of a nettle than the dagger which is fatal to Dragon-flies.
+The same virus acts differently upon this organism and that, is
+formidable here and quite mild there. What kills the insect may easily
+be harmless to us. Let us not, however, generalize too far. The
+Narbonne Lycosa, that other enthusiastic insect-huntress, would make us
+pay dearly if we attempted to take liberties with her.
+
+It is not uninteresting to watch the Epeira at dinner. I light upon
+one, the Banded Epeira, at the moment, about three o'clock in the
+afternoon, when she has captured a Locust. Planted in the centre of the
+web, on her resting-floor, she attacks the venison at the joint of a
+haunch. There is no movement, not even of the mouth-parts, so far as I
+am able to discover. The mouth lingers, close-applied, at the point
+originally bitten. There are no intermittent mouthfuls, with the
+mandibles moving backwards and forwards. It is a sort of continuous
+kiss.
+
+I visit my Epeira at intervals. The mouth does not change its place. I
+visit her for the last time at nine o'clock in the evening. Matters
+stand exactly as they did: after six hours' consumption, the mouth is
+still sucking at the lower end of the right haunch. The fluid contents
+of the victim are transferred to the ogress's belly, I know not how.
+
+Next morning, the Spider is still at table. I take away her dish.
+Naught remains of the Locust but his skin, hardly altered in shape, but
+utterly drained and perforated in several places. The method,
+therefore, was changed during the night. To extract the non-fluent
+residue, the viscera and muscles, the stiff cuticle had to be tapped
+here, there and elsewhere, after which the tattered husk, placed bodily
+in the press of the mandibles, would have been chewed, re-chewed and
+finally reduced to a pill, which the sated Spider throws up. This would
+have been the end of the victim, had I not taken it away before the
+time.
+
+Whether she wound or kill, the Epeira bites her captive somewhere or
+other, no matter where. This is an excellent method on her part,
+because of the variety of the game that comes her way. I see her
+accepting with equal readiness whatever chance may send her:
+Butterflies and Dragon-flies, Flies and Wasps, small Dung-beetles and
+Locusts. If I offer her a Mantis, a Bumble-bee, an Anoxia--the
+equivalent of the common Cockchafer--and other dishes probably unknown
+to her race, she accepts all and any, large and small, thin-skinned and
+horny-skinned, that which goes afoot and that which takes winged
+flight. She is omnivorous, she preys on everything, down to her own
+kind, should the occasion offer.
+
+Had she to operate according to individual structure, she would need an
+anatomical dictionary; and instinct is essentially unfamiliar with
+generalities: its knowledge is always confined to limited points. The
+Cerceres know their Weevils and their Buprestis-beetles absolutely; the
+Sphex their Grasshoppers, their Crickets and their Locusts; the Scoliae
+their Cetonia- and Oryctes-grubs. (The Scolia is a Digger-wasp, like
+the Cerceris and the Sphex, and feeds her larvae on the grubs of the
+Cetonia, or Rose-chafer, and the Oryctes, or
+Rhinoceros-beetle.--Translator's Note.) Even so the other paralysers.
+Each has her own victim and knows nothing of any of the others.
+
+The same exclusive tastes prevail among the slayers. Let us remember,
+in this connection, Philanthus apivorus and, especially, the Thomisus,
+the comely Spider who cuts Bees' throats. They understand the fatal
+blow, either in the neck or under the chin, a thing which the Epeira
+does not understand; but, just because of this talent, they are
+specialists. Their province is the Domestic Bee.
+
+Animals are a little like ourselves: they excel in an art only on
+condition of specializing in it. The Epeira, who, being omnivorous, is
+obliged to generalize, abandons scientific methods and makes up for
+this by distilling a poison capable of producing torpor and even death,
+no matter what the point attacked.
+
+Recognizing the large variety of game, we wonder how the Epeira manages
+not to hesitate amid those many diverse forms, how, for instance, she
+passes from the Locust to the Butterfly, so different in appearance. To
+attribute to her as a guide an extensive zoological knowledge were
+wildly in excess of what we may reasonably expect of her poor
+intelligence. The thing moves, therefore it is worth catching: this
+formula seems to sum up the Spider's wisdom.
+
+THE TELEGRAPH-WIRE.
+
+Of the six Garden Spiders that form the object of my observations, two
+only, the Banded and the Silky Epeira, remain constantly in their webs,
+even under the blinding rays of a fierce sun. The others, as a rule, do
+not show themselves until nightfall. At some distance from the net they
+have a rough-and-ready retreat in the brambles, an ambush made of a few
+leaves held together by stretched threads. It is here that, for the
+most part, they remain in the daytime, motionless and sunk in
+meditation.
+
+But the shrill light that vexes them is the joy of the fields. At such
+times the Locust hops more nimbly than ever, more gaily skims the
+Dragon-fly. Besides, the limy web, despite the rents suffered during
+the night, is still in serviceable condition. If some giddy-pate allow
+himself to be caught, will the Spider, at the distance whereto she has
+retired, be unable to take advantage of the windfall? Never fear. She
+arrives in a flash. How is she apprised? Let us explain the matter.
+
+The alarm is given by the vibration of the web, much more than by the
+sight of the captured object. A very simple experiment will prove this.
+I lay upon a Banded Epeira's lime-threads a Locust that second
+asphyxiated with carbon disulphide. The carcass is placed in front, or
+behind, or at either side of the Spider, who sits moveless in the
+centre of the net. If the test is to be applied to a species with a
+daytime hiding-place amid the foliage, the dead Locust is laid on the
+web, more or less near the centre, no matter how.
+
+In both cases, nothing happens at first. The Epeira remains in her
+motionless attitude, even when the morsel is at a short distance in
+front of her. She is indifferent to the presence of the game, does not
+seem to perceive it, so much so that she ends by wearing out my
+patience. Then, with a long straw, which enables me to conceal myself
+slightly, I set the dead insect trembling.
+
+That is quite enough. The Banded Epeira and the Silky Epeira hasten to
+the central floor; the others come down from the branch; all go to the
+Locust, swathe him with tape, treat him, in short, as they would treat
+a live prey captured under normal conditions. It took the shaking of
+the web to decide them to attack.
+
+Perhaps the grey colour of the Locust is not sufficiently conspicuous
+to attract attention by itself. Then let us try red, the brightest
+colour to our retina and probably also to the Spiders'. None of the
+game hunted by the Epeirae being clad in scarlet, I make a small bundle
+out of red wool, a bait of the size of a Locust. I glue it to the web.
+
+My stratagem succeeds. As long as the parcel is stationary, the Spider
+is not roused; but, the moment it trembles, stirred by my straw, she
+runs up eagerly.
+
+There are silly ones who just touch the thing with their legs and,
+without further enquiries, swathe it in silk after the manner of the
+usual game. They even go so far as to dig their fangs into the bait,
+following the rule of the preliminary poisoning. Then and then only the
+mistake is recognized and the tricked Spider retires and does not come
+back, unless it be long afterwards, when she flings the lumbersome
+object out of the web.
+
+There are also clever ones. Like the others, these hasten to the
+red-woollen lure, which my straw insidiously keeps moving; they come
+from their tent among the leaves as readily as from the centre of the
+web; they explore it with their palpi and their legs; but, soon
+perceiving that the thing is valueless, they are careful not to spend
+their silk on useless bonds. My quivering bait does not deceive them.
+It is flung out after a brief inspection.
+
+Still, the clever ones, like the silly ones, run even from a distance,
+from their leafy ambush. How do they know? Certainly not by sight.
+Before recognizing their mistake, they have to hold the object between
+their legs and even to nibble at it a little. They are extremely
+short-sighted. At a hand's-breadth's distance, the lifeless prey,
+unable to shake the web, remains unperceived. Besides, in many cases,
+the hunting takes place in the dense darkness of the night, when sight,
+even if it were good, would not avail.
+
+If the eyes are insufficient guides, even close at hand, how will it be
+when the prey has to be spied from afar? In that case, an intelligence
+apparatus for long-distance work becomes indispensable. We have no
+difficulty in detecting the apparatus.
+
+Let us look attentively behind the web of any Epeira with a daytime
+hiding-place: we shall see a thread that starts from the centre of the
+network, ascends in a slanting line outside the plane of the web and
+ends at the ambush where the Spider lurks all day. Except at the
+central point, there is no connection between this thread and the rest
+of the work, no interweaving with the scaffolding-threads. Free of
+impediment, the line runs straight from the centre of the net to the
+ambush-tent. Its length averages twenty-two inches. The Angular Epeira,
+settled high up in the trees, has shown me some as long as eight or
+nine feet.
+
+There is no doubt that this slanting line is a foot-bridge which allows
+the Spider to repair hurriedly to the web, when summoned by urgent
+business, and then, when her round is finished, to return to her hut.
+In fact, it is the road which I see her follow, in going and coming.
+But is that all? No; for, if the Epeira had no aim in view but a means
+of rapid transit between her tent and the net, the foot-bridge would be
+fastened to the upper edge of the web. The journey would be shorter and
+the <DW72> less steep.
+
+Why, moreover, does this line always start in the centre of the sticky
+network and nowhere else? Because that is the point where the spokes
+meet and, therefore, the common centre of vibration. Anything that
+moves upon the web sets it shaking. All then that is needed is a thread
+issuing from this central point to convey to a distance the news of a
+prey struggling in some part or other of the net. The slanting cord,
+extending outside the plane of the web, is more than a foot-bridge: it
+is, above all, a signalling-apparatus, a telegraph-wire.
+
+Let us try experiment. I place a Locust on the network. Caught in the
+sticky toils, he plunges about. Forthwith, the Spider issues
+impetuously from her hut, comes down the foot-bridge, makes a rush for
+the Locust, wraps him up and operates on him according to rule. Soon
+after, she hoists him, fastened by a line to her spinneret, and drags
+him to her hiding-place, where a long banquet will be held. So far,
+nothing new: things happen as usual.
+
+I leave the Spider to mind her own affairs for some days before I
+interfere with her. I again propose to give her a Locust; but this time
+I first cut the signalling-thread with a touch of the scissors, without
+shaking any part of the edifice. The game is then laid on the web.
+Complete success: the entangled insect struggles, sets the net
+quivering; the Spider, on her side, does not stir, as though heedless
+of events.
+
+The idea might occur to one that, in this business, the Epeira stays
+motionless in her cabin since she is prevented from hurrying down,
+because the foot-bridge is broken. Let us undeceive ourselves: for one
+road open to her there are a hundred, all ready to bring her to the
+place where her presence is now required. The network is fastened to
+the branches by a host of lines, all of them very easy to cross. Well,
+the Epeira embarks upon none of them, but remains moveless and
+self-absorbed.
+
+Why? Because her telegraph, being out of order, no longer tells her of
+the shaking of the web. The captured prey is too far off for her to see
+it; she is all unwitting. A good hour passes, with the Locust still
+kicking, the Spider impassive, myself watching. Nevertheless, in the
+end, the Epeira wakes up: no longer feeling the signalling-thread,
+broken by my scissors, as taut as usual under her legs, she comes to
+look into the state of things. The web is reached, without the least
+difficulty, by one of the lines of the framework, the first that
+offers. The Locust is then perceived and forthwith enswathed, after
+which the signalling-thread is remade, taking the place of the one
+which I have broken. Along this road the Spider goes home, dragging her
+prey behind her.
+
+My neighbour, the mighty Angular Epeira, with her telegraph-wire nine
+feet long, has even better things in store for me. One morning I find
+her web, which is now deserted, almost intact, a proof that the night's
+hunting has not been good. The animal must be hungry. With a piece of
+game for a bait, I hope to bring her down from her lofty retreat.
+
+I entangle in the web a rare morsel, a Dragon-fly, who struggles
+desperately and sets the whole net a-shaking. The other, up above,
+leaves her lurking-place amid the cypress-foliage, strides swiftly down
+along her telegraph-wire, comes to the Dragon-fly, trusses her and at
+once climbs home again by the same road, with her prize dangling at her
+heels by a thread. The final sacrifice will take place in the quiet of
+the leafy sanctuary.
+
+A few days later I renew my experiment under the same conditions, but,
+this time, I first cut the signalling-thread. In vain I select a large
+Dragon-fly, a very restless prisoner; in vain I exert my patience: the
+Spider does not come down all day. Her telegraph being broken, she
+receives no notice of what is happening nine feet below. The entangled
+morsel remains where it lies, not despised, but unknown. At nightfall
+the Epeira leaves her cabin, passes over the ruins of her web, finds
+the Dragon-fly and eats him on the spot, after which the net is
+renewed.
+
+The Epeirae, who occupy a distant retreat by day, cannot do without a
+private wire that keeps them in permanent communication with the
+deserted web. All of them have one, in point of fact, but only when age
+comes, age prone to rest and to long slumbers. In their youth, the
+Epeirae, who are then very wide awake, know nothing of the art of
+telegraphy. Besides, their web, a short-lived work whereof hardly a
+trace remains on the morrow, does not allow of this kind of industry.
+It is no use going to the expense of a signalling-apparatus for a
+ruined snare wherein nothing can now be caught. Only the old Spiders,
+meditating or dozing in their green tent, are warned from afar, by
+telegraph, of what takes place on the web.
+
+To save herself from keeping a close watch that would degenerate into
+drudgery and to remain alive to events even when resting, with her back
+turned on the net, the ambushed Spider always has her foot upon the
+telegraph-wire. Of my observations on this subject, let me relate the
+following, which will be sufficient for our purpose.
+
+An Angular Epeira, with a remarkably fine belly, has spun her web
+between two laurustine-shrubs, covering a width of nearly a yard. The
+sun beats upon the snare, which is abandoned long before dawn. The
+Spider is in her day manor, a resort easily discovered by following the
+telegraph-wire. It is a vaulted chamber of dead leaves, joined together
+with a few bits of silk. The refuge is deep: the Spider disappears in
+it entirely, all but her rounded hind-quarters, which bar the entrance
+to her donjon.
+
+With her front half plunged into the back of her hut, the Epeira
+certainly cannot see her web. Even if she had good sight, instead of
+being purblind, her position could not possibly allow her to keep the
+prey in view. Does she give up hunting during this period of bright
+sunlight? Not at all. Look again.
+
+Wonderful! One of her hind-legs is stretched outside the leafy cabin;
+and the signalling-thread ends just at the tip of that leg. Whoso has
+not seen the Epeira in this attitude, with her hand, so to speak, on
+the telegraph-receiver, knows nothing of one of the most curious
+instances of animal cleverness. Let any game appear upon the scene; and
+the slumberer, forthwith aroused by means of the leg receiving the
+vibrations, hastens up. A Locust whom I myself lay on the web procures
+her this agreeable shock and what follows. If she is satisfied with her
+bag, I am still more satisfied with what I have learnt.
+
+One word more. The web is often shaken by the wind. The different parts
+of the framework, tossed and teased by the eddying air-currents, cannot
+fail to transmit their vibration to the signalling-thread.
+Nevertheless, the Spider does not quit her hut and remains indifferent
+to the commotion prevailing in the net. Her line, therefore, is
+something better than a bell-rope that pulls and communicates the
+impulse given: it is a telephone capable, like our own, of transmitting
+infinitesimal waves of sound. Clutching her telephone-wire with a toe,
+the Spider listens with her leg; she perceives the innermost
+vibrations; she distinguishes between the vibration proceeding from a
+prisoner and the mere shaking caused by the wind.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 11. THE EUMENES.
+
+A wasp-like garb of motley black and yellow; a slender and graceful
+figure; wings not spread out flat, when resting, but folded lengthwise
+in two; the abdomen a sort of chemist's retort, which swells into a
+gourd and is fastened to the thorax by a long neck, first distending
+into a pear, then shrinking to a thread; a leisurely and silent flight;
+lonely habits. There we have a summary sketch of the Eumenes. My part
+of the country possesses two species: the larger, Eumenes Amedei, Lep.,
+measures nearly an inch in length; the other, Eumenes pomiformis,
+Fabr., is a reduction of the first to the scale of one-half. (I include
+three species promiscuously under this one name, that is to say,
+Eumenes pomiformis, Fabr., E. bipunctis, Sauss., and E. dubius, Sauss.
+As I did not distinguish between them in my first investigations, which
+date a very long time back, it is not possible for me to ascribe to
+each of them its respective nest. But their habits are the same, for
+which reason this confusion does not injuriously affect the order of
+ideas in the present chapter.--Author's Note.)
+
+Similar in form and colouring, both possess a like talent for
+architecture; and this talent is expressed in a work of the highest
+perfection which charms the most untutored eye. Their dwelling is a
+masterpiece. The Eumenes follow the profession of arms, which is
+unfavourable to artistic effort; they stab a prey with their sting;
+they pillage and plunder. They are predatory Hymenoptera, victualling
+their grubs with caterpillars. It will be interesting to compare their
+habits with those of the operator on the Grey Worm. (Ammophila hirsuta,
+who hunts the Grey Worm, the caterpillar of Noctua segetum, the Dart or
+Turnip Moth.--Translator's Note.) Though the quarry--caterpillars in
+either case--remain the same, perhaps instinct, which is liable to vary
+with the species, has fresh glimpses in store for us. Besides, the
+edifice built by the Eumenes in itself deserves inspection.
+
+The Hunting Wasps whose story we have described in former volumes are
+wonderfully well versed in the art of wielding the lancet; they astound
+us with their surgical methods, which they seem to have learnt from
+some physiologist who allows nothing to escape him; but those skilful
+slayers have no merit as builders of dwelling-houses. What is their
+home, in point of fact? An underground passage, with a cell at the end
+of it; a gallery, an excavation, a shapeless cave. It is miner's work,
+navvy's work: vigorous sometimes, artistic never. They use the pick-axe
+for loosening, the crowbar for shifting, the rake for extracting the
+materials, but never the trowel for laying. Now in the Eumenes we see
+real masons, who build their houses bit by bit with stone and mortar
+and run them up in the open, either on the firm rock or on the shaky
+support of a bough. Hunting alternates with architecture; the insect is
+a Nimrod or a Vitruvius by turns. (Marcus Vitruvius Pollio, the Roman
+architect and engineer.--Translator's Note.)
+
+And, first of all, what sites do these builders select for their homes?
+Should you pass some little garden-wall, facing south, in a
+sun-scorched corner, look at the stones that are not covered with
+plaster, look at them one by one, especially the largest; examine the
+masses of boulders, at no great height from the ground, where the
+fierce rays have heated them to the temperature of a Turkish bath; and,
+perhaps, if you seek long enough, you will light upon the structure of
+Eumenes Amedei. The insect is scarce and lives apart; a meeting is an
+event upon which we must not count with too great confidence. It is an
+African species and loves the heat that ripens the carob and the date.
+It haunts the sunniest spots and selects rocks or firm stones as a
+foundation for its nest. Sometimes also, but seldom, it copies the
+Chalicodoma of the Walls and builds upon an ordinary pebble. (Or
+Mason-bee.--Translator's Note.)
+
+Eumenes pomiformis is much more common and is comparatively indifferent
+to the nature of the foundation whereon she erects her cells. She
+builds on walls, on isolated stones, on the wood of the inner surface
+of half-closed shutters; or else she adopts an aerial base, the slender
+twig of a shrub, the withered sprig of a plant of some sort. Any form
+of support serves her purpose. Nor does she trouble about shelter. Less
+chilly than her African cousin, she does not shun the unprotected
+spaces exposed to every wind that blows.
+
+When erected on a horizontal surface, where nothing interferes with it,
+the structure of Eumenes Amedei is a symmetrical cupola, a spherical
+skull-cap, with, at the top, a narrow passage just wide enough for the
+insect, and surmounted by a neatly funnelled neck. It suggests the
+round hut of the Eskimo or of the ancient Gael, with its central
+chimney. Two centimetres and a half (.97 inch.--Translator's Note.),
+more or less, represent the diameter, and two centimetres the height.
+(.78 inch.--Translator's Note.) When the support is a perpendicular
+plane, the building still retains the domed shape, but the entrance-
+and exit-funnel opens at the side, upwards. The floor of this apartment
+calls for no labour: it is supplied direct by the bare stone.
+
+Having chosen the site, the builder erects a circular fence about three
+millimetres thick. (.118 inch.--Translator's Note.) The materials
+consist of mortar and small stones. The insect selects its stone-quarry
+in some well-trodden path, on some neighbouring road, at the driest,
+hardest spots. With its mandibles, it scrapes together a small quantity
+of dust and saturates it with saliva until the whole becomes a regular
+hydraulic mortar which soon sets and is no longer susceptible to water.
+The Mason-bees have shown us a similar exploitation of the beaten paths
+and of the road-mender's macadam. All these open-air builders, all
+these erectors of monuments exposed to wind and weather require an
+exceedingly dry stone-dust; otherwise the material, already moistened
+with water, would not properly absorb the liquid that is to give it
+cohesion; and the edifice would soon be wrecked by the rains. They
+possess the sense of discrimination of the plasterer, who rejects
+plaster injured by damp. We shall see presently how the insects that
+build under shelter avoid this laborious macadam-scraping and give the
+preference to fresh earth already reduced to a paste by its own
+dampness. When common lime answers our purpose, we do not trouble about
+Roman cement. Now Eumenes Amedei requires a first-class cement, even
+better than that of the Chalicodoma of the Walls, for the work, when
+finished, does not receive the thick covering wherewith the Mason-bee
+protects her cluster of cells. And therefore the cupola-builder, as
+often as she can, uses the highway as her stone-pit.
+
+With the mortar, flints are needed. These are bits of gravel of an
+almost unvarying size--that of a peppercorn--but of a shape and kind
+differing greatly, according to the places worked. Some are
+sharp-cornered, with facets determined by chance fractures; some are
+round, polished by friction under water. Some are of limestone, others
+of silicic matter. The favourite stones, when the neighbourhood of the
+nest permits, are little nodules of quartz, smooth and semitransparent.
+These are selected with minute care. The insect weighs them, so to say,
+measures them with the compass of its mandibles and does not accept
+them until after recognizing in them the requisite qualities of size
+and hardness.
+
+A circular fence, we were saying, is begun on the bare rock. Before the
+mortar sets, which does not take long, the mason sticks a few stones
+into the soft mass, as the work advances. She dabs them half-way into
+the cement, so as to leave them jutting out to a large extent, without
+penetrating to the inside, where the wall must remain smooth for the
+sake of the larva's comfort. If necessary, a little plaster is added,
+to tone down the inner protuberances. The solidly embedded stonework
+alternates with the pure mortarwork, of which each fresh course
+receives its facing of tiny encrusted pebbles. As the edifice is
+raised, the builder <DW72>s the construction a little towards the centre
+and fashions the curve which will give the spherical shape. We employ
+arched centrings to support the masonry of a dome while building: the
+Eumenes, more daring than we, erects her cupola without any
+scaffolding.
+
+A round orifice is contrived at the summit; and, on this orifice, rises
+a funnelled mouthpiece built of pure cement. It might be the graceful
+neck of some Etruscan vase. When the cell is victualled and the egg
+laid, this mouthpiece is closed with a cement plug; and in this plug is
+set a little pebble, one alone, no more: the ritual never varies. This
+work of rustic architecture has naught to fear from the inclemency of
+the weather; it does not yield to the pressure of the fingers; it
+resists the knife that attempts to remove it without breaking it. Its
+nipple shape and the bits of gravel wherewith it bristles all over the
+outside remind one of certain cromlechs of olden time, of certain
+tumuli whose domes are strewn with Cyclopean stones.
+
+Such is the appearance of the edifice when the cell stands alone; but
+the Hymenopteron nearly always fixes other domes against her first, to
+the number of five, six, or more. This shortens the labour by allowing
+her to use the same partition for two adjoining rooms. The original
+elegant symmetry is lost and the whole now forms a cluster which, at
+first sight, appears to be merely a clod of dry mud, sprinkled with
+tiny pebbles. But let us examine the shapeless mass more closely and we
+shall perceive the number of chambers composing the habitation with the
+funnelled mouths, each quite distinct and each furnished with its
+gravel stopper set in the cement.
+
+The Chalicodoma of the Walls employs the same building methods as
+Eumenes Amedei: in the courses of cement she fixes, on the outside,
+small stones of minor bulk. Her work begins by being a turret of rustic
+art, not without a certain prettiness; then, when the cells are placed
+side by side, the whole construction degenerates into a lump governed
+apparently by no architectural rule. Moreover, the Mason-bee covers her
+mass of cells with a thick layer of cement, which conceals the original
+rockwork edifice. The Eumenes does not resort to this general coating:
+her building is too strong to need it; she leaves the pebbly facings
+uncovered, as well as the entrances to the cells. The two sorts of
+nests, although constructed of similar materials, are therefore easily
+distinguished.
+
+The Eumenes' cupola is the work of an artist; and the artist would be
+sorry to cover his masterpiece with whitewash. I crave forgiveness for
+a suggestion which I advance with all the reserve befitting so delicate
+a subject. Would it not be possible for the cromlech-builder to take a
+pride in her work, to look upon it with some affection and to feel
+gratified by this evidence of her cleverness? Might there not be an
+insect science of aesthetics? I seem at least to catch a glimpse, in
+the Eumenes, of a propensity to beautify her work. The nest must be,
+before all, a solid habitation, an inviolable stronghold; but, should
+ornament intervene without jeopardizing the power of resistance, will
+the worker remain indifferent to it? Who would say?
+
+Let us set forth the facts. The orifice at the top, if left as a mere
+hole, would suit the purpose quite as well as an elaborate door: the
+insect would lose nothing in regard to facilities for coming and going
+and would gain by shortening the labour. Yet we find, on the contrary,
+the mouth of an amphora, gracefully curved, worthy of a potter's wheel.
+A choice cement and careful work are necessary for the confection of
+its slender, funnelled shaft. Why this nice finish, if the builder be
+wholly absorbed in the solidity of her work?
+
+Here is another detail: among the bits of gravel employed for the outer
+covering of the cupola, grains of quartz predominate. They are polished
+and translucent; they glitter slightly and please the eye. Why are
+these little pebbles preferred to chips of lime-stone, when both
+materials are found in equal abundance around the nest?
+
+A yet more remarkable feature: we find pretty often, encrusted on the
+dome, a few tiny, empty snail-shells, bleached by the sun. The species
+usually selected by the Eumenes is one of the smaller Helices--Helix
+strigata--frequent on our parched <DW72>s. I have seen nests where this
+Helix took the place of pebbles almost entirely. They were like boxes
+made of shells, the work of a patient hand.
+
+A comparison offers here. Certain Australian birds, notably the
+Bower-birds, build themselves covered walks, or playhouses, with
+interwoven twigs, and decorate the two entrances to the portico by
+strewing the threshold with anything that they can find in the shape of
+glittering, polished, or bright- objects. Every door-sill is a
+cabinet of curiosities where the collector gathers smooth pebbles,
+variegated shells, empty snail-shells, parrot's feathers, bones that
+have come to look like sticks of ivory. The odds and ends mislaid by
+man find a home in the bird's museum, where we see pipe-stems, metal
+buttons, strips of cotton stuff and stone axe-heads.
+
+The collection at either entrance to the bower is large enough to fill
+half a bushel. As these objects are of no use to the bird, its only
+motive for accumulating them must be an art-lover's hobby. Our common
+Magpie has similar tastes: any shiny thing that he comes upon he picks
+up, hides and hoards.
+
+Well, the Eumenes, who shares this passion for bright pebbles and empty
+snail-shells, is the Bower-bird of the insect world; but she is a more
+practical collector, knows how to combine the useful and the ornamental
+and employs her finds in the construction of her nest, which is both a
+fortress and a museum. When she finds nodules of translucent quartz,
+she rejects everything else: the building will be all the prettier for
+them. When she comes across a little white shell, she hastens to
+beautify her dome with it; should fortune smile and empty snail-shells
+abound, she encrusts the whole fabric with them, until it becomes the
+supreme expression of her artistic taste. Is this so? Or is it not so?
+Who shall decide?
+
+The nest of Eumenes pomiformis is the size of an average cherry and
+constructed of pure mortar, without the least outward pebblework. Its
+shape is exactly similar to that which we have just described. When
+built upon a horizontal base of sufficient extent, it is a dome with a
+central neck, funnelled like the mouth of an urn. But when the
+foundation is reduced to a mere point, as on the twig of a shrub, the
+nest becomes a spherical capsule, always, of course, surmounted by a
+neck. It is then a miniature specimen of exotic pottery, a paunchy
+alcarraza. Its thickens is very slight, less than that of a sheet of
+paper; it crushes under the least effort of the fingers. The outside is
+not quite even. It displays wrinkles and seams, due to the different
+courses of mortar, or else knotty protuberances distributed almost
+concentrically.
+
+Both Hymenoptera accumulate caterpillars in their coffers, whether
+domes or jars. Let us give an abstract of the bill of fare. These
+documents, for all their dryness, possess a value; they will enable
+whoso cares to interest himself in the Eumenes to perceive to what
+extent instinct varies the diet, according to the place and season. The
+food is plentiful, but lacks variety. It consists of tiny caterpillars,
+by which I mean the grubs of small Butterflies. We learn this from the
+structure, for we observe in the prey selected by either Hymenopteran
+the usual caterpillar organism. The body is composed of twelve
+segments, not including the head. The first three have true legs, the
+next two are legless, then come two segments with prolegs, two legless
+segments and, lastly, a terminal segment with prolegs. It is exactly
+the same structure which we saw in the Ammophila's Grey Worm.
+
+My old notes give the following description of the caterpillars found
+in the nest of Eumenes Amedei: "a pale green or, less often, a
+yellowish body, covered with short white hairs; head wider than the
+front segment, dead-black and also bristling with hairs. Length: 16 to
+18 millimetres (.63 to .7 inch.--Translator's Note.); width: about 3
+millimetres." (.12 inch.--Translator's Note.) A quarter of a century
+and more has elapsed since I jotted down this descriptive sketch; and
+to-day, at Serignan, I find in the Eumenes' larder the same game which
+I noticed long ago at Carpentras. Time and distance have not altered
+the nature of the provisions.
+
+The number of morsels served for the meal of each larva interests us
+more than the quality. In the cells of Eumenes Amedei, I find sometimes
+five caterpillars and sometimes ten, which means a difference of a
+hundred per cent in the quantity of the food, for the morsels are of
+exactly the same size in both cases. Why this unequal supply, which
+gives a double portion to one larva and a single portion to another?
+The diners have the same appetite: what one nurseling demands a second
+must demand, unless we have here a different menu, according to the
+sexes. In the perfect stage the males are smaller than the females, are
+hardly half as much in weight or volume. The amount of victuals,
+therefore, required to bring them to their final development may be
+reduced by one-half. In that case, the well-stocked cells belong to
+females; the others, more meagrely supplied, belong to males.
+
+But the egg is laid when the provisions are stored; and this egg has a
+determined sex, though the most minute examination is not able to
+discover the differences which will decide the hatching of a female or
+a male. We are therefore needs driven to this strange conclusion: the
+mother knows beforehand the sex of the egg which she is about to lay;
+and this knowledge allows her to fill the larder according to the
+appetite of the future grub. What a strange world, so wholly different
+from ours! We fall back upon a special sense to explain the Ammophila's
+hunting; what can we fall back upon to account for this intuition of
+the future? Can the theory of chances play a part in the hazy problem?
+If nothing is logically arranged with a foreseen object, how is this
+clear vision of the invisible acquired?
+
+The capsules of Eumenes pomiformis are literally crammed with game. It
+is true that the morsels are very small. My notes speak of fourteen
+green caterpillars in one cell and sixteen in a second cell. I have no
+other information about the integral diet of this Wasp, whom I have
+neglected somewhat, preferring to study her cousin, the builder of
+rockwork domes. As the two sexes differ in size, although to a lesser
+degree than in the case of Eumenes Amedei, I am inclined to think that
+those two well-filled cells belonged to females and that the males'
+cells must have a less sumptuous table. Not having seen for myself, I
+am content to set down this mere suspicion.
+
+What I have seen and often seen is the pebbly nest, with the larva
+inside and the provisions partly consumed. To continue the rearing at
+home and follow my charge's progress from day to day was a business
+which I could not resist; besides, as far as I was able to see, it was
+easily managed. I had had some practice in this foster-father's trade;
+my association with the Bembex, the Ammophila, the Sphex (three species
+of Digger-wasps.--Translator's Note.) and many others had turned me
+into a passable insect-rearer. I was no novice in the art of dividing
+an old pen-box into compartments in which I laid a bed of sand and, on
+this bed, the larva and her provisions delicately removed from the
+maternal cell. Success was almost certain at each attempt: I used to
+watch the larvae at their meals, I saw my nurselings grow up and spin
+their cocoons. Relying upon the experience thus gained, I reckoned upon
+success in raising my Eumenes.
+
+The results, however, in no way answered to my expectations. All my
+endeavours failed; and the larva allowed itself to die a piteous death
+without touching its provisions.
+
+I ascribed my reverse to this, that and the other cause: perhaps I had
+injured the frail grub when demolishing the fortress; a splinter of
+masonry had bruised it when I forced open the hard dome with my knife;
+a too sudden exposure to the sun had surprised it when I withdrew it
+from the darkness of its cell; the open air might have dried up its
+moisture. I did the best I could to remedy all these probable reasons
+of failure. I went to work with every possible caution in breaking open
+the home; I cast the shadow of my body over the nest, to save the grub
+from sunstroke; I at once transferred larva and provisions into a glass
+tube and placed this tube in a box which I carried in my hand, to
+minimize the jolting on the journey. Nothing was of avail: the larva,
+when taken from its dwelling, always allowed itself to pine away.
+
+For a long time I persisted in explaining my want of success by the
+difficulties attending the removal. Eumenes Amedei's cell is a strong
+casket which cannot be forced without sustaining a shock; and the
+demolition of a work of this kind entails such varied accidents that we
+are always liable to think that the worm has been bruised by the
+wreckage. As for carrying home the nest intact on its support, with a
+view to opening it with greater care than is permitted by a
+rough-and-ready operation in the fields, that is out of the question:
+the nest nearly always stands on an immovable rock or on some big stone
+forming part of a wall. If I failed in my attempts at rearing, it was
+because the larva had suffered when I was breaking up her house. The
+reason seemed a good one; and I let it go at that.
+
+In the end, another idea occurred to me and made me doubt whether my
+rebuffs were always due to clumsy accidents. The Eumenes' cells are
+crammed with game: there are ten caterpillars in the cell of Eumenes
+Amedei and fifteen in that of Eumenes pomiformis. These caterpillars,
+stabbed no doubt, but in a manner unknown to me, are not entirely
+motionless. The mandibles seize upon what is presented to them, the
+body buckles and unbuckles, the hinder half lashes out briskly when
+stirred with the point of a needle. At what spot is the egg laid amid
+that swarming mass, where thirty mandibles can make a hole in it, where
+a hundred and twenty pairs of legs can tear it? When the victuals
+consist of a single head of game, these perils do not exist; and the
+egg is laid on the victim not at hazard, but upon a judiciously chosen
+spot. Thus, for instance, Ammophila hirsuta fixes hers, by one end,
+cross-wise, on the Grey Worm, on the side of the first prolegged
+segment. The eggs hang over the caterpillar's back, away from the legs,
+whose proximity might be dangerous. The worm, moreover, stung in the
+greater number of its nerve-centres, lies on one side, motionless and
+incapable of bodily contortions or said an jerks of its hinder
+segments. If the mandibles try to snap, if the legs give a kick or two,
+they find nothing in front of them: the Ammophila's egg is at the
+opposite side. The tiny grub is thus able, as soon as it hatches, to
+dig into the giant's belly in full security.
+
+How different are the conditions in the Eumenes' cell. The caterpillars
+are imperfectly paralysed, perhaps because they have received but a
+single stab; they toss about when touched with a pin; they are bound to
+wriggle when bitten by the larva. If the egg is laid on one of them,
+the first morsel will, I admit, be consumed without danger, on
+condition that the point of attack be wisely chosen; but there remain
+others which are not deprived of every means of defence. Let a movement
+take place in the mass; and the egg, shifted from the upper layer, will
+tumble into a pitfall of legs and mandibles. The least thing is enough
+to jeopardize its existence; and this least thing has every chance of
+being brought about in the disordered heap of caterpillars. The egg, a
+tiny cylinder, transparent as crystal, is extremely delicate: a touch
+withers it, the least pressure crushes it.
+
+No, its place is not in the mass of provisions, for the caterpillars, I
+repeat, are not sufficiently harmless. Their paralysis is incomplete,
+as is proved by their contortions when I irritate them and shown, on
+the other hand, by a very important fact. I have sometimes taken from
+Eumenes Amedei's cell a few heads of game half transformed into
+chrysalids. It is evident that the transformation was effected in the
+cell itself and, therefore, after the operation which the Wasp had
+performed upon them. Whereof does this operation consist? I cannot say
+precisely, never having seen the huntress at work. The sting most
+certainly has played its part; but where? And how often? This is what
+we do not know. What we are able to declare is that the torpor is not
+very deep, inasmuch as the patient sometimes retains enough vitality to
+shed its skin and become a chrysalid. Everything thus tends to make us
+ask by what stratagem the egg is shielded from danger.
+
+This stratagem I longed to discover; I would not be put off by the
+scarcity of nests, by the irksomeness of the searches, by the risk of
+sunstroke, by the time taken up, by the vain breaking open of
+unsuitable cells; I meant to see and I saw. Here is my method: with the
+point of a knife and a pair of nippers, I make a side opening, a
+window, beneath the dome of Eumenes Amedei and Eumenes pomiformis. I
+work with the greatest care, so as not to injure the recluse. Formerly
+I attacked the cupola from the top, now I attack it from the side. I
+stop when the breach is large enough to allow me to see the state of
+things within.
+
+What is this state of things? I pause to give the reader time to
+reflect and to think out for himself a means of safety that will
+protect the egg and afterwards the grub in the perilous conditions
+which I have set forth. Seek, think and contrive, such of you as have
+inventive minds. Have you guessed it? Do you give it up? I may as well
+tell you.
+
+The egg is not laid upon the provisions; it is hung from the top of the
+cupola by a thread which vies with that of a Spider's web for
+slenderness. The dainty cylinder quivers and swings to and fro at the
+least breath; it reminds me of the famous pendulum suspended from the
+dome of the Pantheon to prove the rotation of the earth. The victuals
+are heaped up underneath.
+
+Second act of this wondrous spectacle. In order to witness it, we must
+open a window in cell upon cell until fortune deigns to smile upon us.
+The larva is hatched and already fairly large. Like the egg, it hangs
+perpendicularly, by the rear, from the ceiling; but the suspensory cord
+has gained considerably in length and consists of the original thread
+eked out by a sort of ribbon. The grub is at dinner: head downwards, it
+is digging into the limp belly of one of the caterpillars. I touch up
+the game that is still intact with a straw. The caterpillars grow
+restless. The grub forthwith retires from the fray. And how? Marvel is
+added to marvels: what I took for a flat cord, for a ribbon, at the
+lower end of the suspensory thread, is a sheath, a scabbard, a sort of
+ascending gallery wherein the larva crawls backwards and makes its way
+up. The cast shell of the egg, retaining its cylindrical form and
+perhaps lengthened by a special operation on the part of the new-born
+grub, forms this safety-channel. At the least sign of danger in the
+heap of caterpillars, the larva retreats into its sheath and climbs
+back to the ceiling, where the swarming rabble cannot reach it. When
+peace is restored, it slides down its case and returns to table, with
+its head over the viands and its rear upturned and ready to withdraw in
+case of need.
+
+Third and last act. Strength has come; the larva is brawny enough not
+to dread the movements of the caterpillars' bodies. Besides, the
+caterpillars, mortified by fasting and weakened by a prolonged torpor,
+become more and more incapable of defence. The perils of the tender
+babe are succeeded by the security of the lusty stripling; and the
+grub, henceforth scorning its sheathed lift, lets itself drop upon the
+game that remains. And thus the banquet ends in normal fashion.
+
+That is what I saw in the nests of both species of the Eumenes and that
+is what I showed to friends who were even more surprised than I by
+these ingenious tactics. The egg hanging from the ceiling, at a
+distance from the provisions, has naught to fear from the caterpillars,
+which flounder about below. The new-hatched larva, whose suspensory
+cord is lengthened by the sheath of the egg, reaches the game and takes
+a first cautious bite at it. If there be danger, it climbs back to the
+ceiling by retreating inside the scabbard. This explains the failure of
+my earlier attempts. Not knowing of the safety-thread, so slender and
+so easily broken, I gathered at one time the egg, at another the young
+larva, after my inroads at the top had caused them to fall into the
+middle of the live victuals. Neither of them was able to thrive when
+brought into direct contact with the dangerous game.
+
+If any one of my readers, to whom I appealed just now, has thought out
+something better than the Eumenes' invention, I beg that he will let me
+know: there is a curious parallel to be drawn between the inspirations
+of reason and the inspirations of instinct.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 12. THE OSMIAE.
+
+THEIR HABITS.
+
+February has its sunny days, heralding spring, to which rude winter
+will reluctantly yield place. In snug corners, among the rocks, the
+great spurge of our district, the characias of the Greeks, the jusclo
+of the Provencals, begins to lift its drooping inflorescence and
+discreetly opens a few sombre flowers. Here the first midges of the
+year will come to slake their thirst. By the time that the tip of the
+stalks reaches the perpendicular, the worst of the cold weather will be
+over.
+
+Another eager one, the almond-tree, risking the loss of its fruit,
+hastens to echo these preludes to the festival of the sun, preludes
+which are too often treacherous. A few days of soft skies and it
+becomes a glorious dome of white flowers, each twinkling with a roseate
+eye. The country, which still lacks green, seems dotted everywhere with
+white-satin pavilions. 'Twould be a callous heart indeed that could
+resist the magic of this awakening.
+
+The insect nation is represented at these rites by a few of its more
+zealous members. There is first of all the Honey-bee, the sworn enemy
+of strikes, who profits by the least lull of winter to find out if some
+rosemary or other is not beginning to open somewhere near the hive. The
+droning of the busy swarms fills the flowery vault, while a snow of
+petals falls softly to the foot of the tree.
+
+Together with the population of harvesters there mingles another, less
+numerous, of mere drinkers, whose nesting-time has not yet begun. This
+is the colony of the Osmiae, those exceedingly pretty solitary bees,
+with their copper-<DW52> skin and bright-red fleece. Two species have
+come hurrying up to take part in the joys of the almond-tree: first,
+the Horned Osmia, clad in black velvet on the head and breast, with red
+velvet on the abdomen; and, a little later, the Three-horned Osmia,
+whose livery must be red and red only. These are the first delegates
+despatched by the pollen-gleaners to ascertain the state of the season
+and attend the festival of the early blooms.
+
+'Tis but a moment since they burst their cocoon, the winter abode: they
+have left their retreats in the crevices of the old walls; should the
+north wind blow and set the almond-tree shivering, they will hasten to
+return to them. Hail to you, O my dear Osmiae, who yearly, from the far
+end of the harmas, opposite snow-capped Ventoux (A mountain in the
+Provencal Alps, near Carpentras and Serignan 6,271 feet.--Translator's
+Note.), bring me the first tidings of the awakening of the insect
+world! I am one of your friends; let us talk about you a little.
+
+Most of the Osmiae of my region do not themselves prepare the dwelling
+destined for the laying. They want ready-made lodgings, such as the old
+cells and old galleries of Anthophorae and Chalicodomae. If these
+favourite haunts are lacking, then a hiding-place in the wall, a round
+hole in some bit of wood, the tube of a reed, the spiral of a dead
+Snail under a heap of stones are adopted, according to the tastes of
+the several species. The retreat selected is divided into chambers by
+partition-walls, after which the entrance to the dwelling receives a
+massive seal. That is the sum-total of the building done.
+
+For this plasterer's rather than mason's work, the Horned and the
+Three-horned Osmia employ soft earth. This material is a sort of dried
+mud, which turns to pap on the addition of a drop of water. The two
+Osmiae limit themselves to gathering natural soaked earth, mud in
+short, which they allow to dry without any special preparation on their
+part; and so they need deep and well-sheltered retreats, into which the
+rain cannot penetrate, or the work would fall to pieces.
+
+Latreille's Osmia uses different materials for her partitions and her
+doors. She chews the leaves of some mucilaginous plant, some mallow
+perhaps, and then prepares a sort of green putty with which she builds
+her partitions and finally closes the entrance to the dwelling. When
+she settles in the spacious cells of the Masked Anthophora (Anthophora
+personata, Illig.), the entrance to the gallery, which is wide enough
+to admit a man's finger, is closed with a voluminous plug of this
+vegetable paste. On the earthy banks, hardened by the sun, the home is
+then betrayed by the gaudy colour of the lid. It is as though the
+authorities had closed the door and affixed to it their great seals of
+green wax.
+
+So far then as their building-materials are concerned, the Osmiae whom
+I have been able to observe are divided into two classes: one building
+compartments with mud, the other with a green-tinted vegetable putty.
+To the latter belongs Latreille's Osmia. The first section includes the
+Horned Osmia and the Three-horned Osmia, both so remarkable for the
+horny tubercles on their faces.
+
+The great reed of the south, Arundo donax, is often used, in the
+country, for making rough garden-shelters against the mistral or just
+for fences. These reeds, the ends of which are chopped off to make them
+all the same length, are planted perpendicularly in the earth. I have
+often explored them in the hope of finding Osmia-nests. My search has
+very seldom succeeded. The failure is easily explained. The partitions
+and the closing-plug of the Horned and of the Three-horned Osmia are
+made, as we have seen, of a sort of mud which water instantly reduces
+to pap. With the upright position of the reeds, the stopper of the
+opening would receive the rain and would become diluted; the ceilings
+of the storeys would fall in and the family would perish by drowning.
+Therefore the Osmia, who knew of these drawbacks before I did, refuses
+the reeds when they are placed perpendicularly.
+
+The same reed is used for a second purpose. We make canisses of it,
+that is to say, hurdles, which, in spring, serve for the rearing of
+Silkworms and, in autumn, for the drying of figs. At the end of April
+and during May, which is the time when the Osmiae work, the canisses
+are indoors, in the Silkworm nurseries, where the Bee cannot take
+possession of them; in autumn, they are outside, exposing their layers
+of figs and peeled peaches to the sun; but by that time the Osmiae have
+long disappeared. If, however, during the spring, an old, disused
+hurdle is left out of doors, in a horizontal position, the Three-horned
+Osmia often takes possession of it and makes use of the two ends, where
+the reeds lie truncated and open.
+
+There are other quarters that suit the Three-horned Osmia, who is not
+particular, it seems to me, and will make shift with any hiding-place,
+so long as it have the requisite conditions of diameter, solidity,
+sanitation and kindly darkness. The most original dwellings that I know
+her to occupy are disused Snail-shells, especially the house of the
+Common Snail (Helix aspersa). Let us go to the <DW72> of the hills thick
+with olive-trees and inspect the little supporting-walls which are
+built of dry stones and face the south. In the crevices of this
+insecure masonry we shall reap a harvest of old Snail-shells, plugged
+with earth right up to the orifice. The family of the Three-horned
+Osmia is settled in the spiral of those shells, which is subdivided
+into chambers by mud partitions.
+
+The Three-pronged Osmia (O. Tridentata, Duf. and Per.) alone creates a
+home of her own, digging herself a channel with her mandibles in dry
+bramble and sometimes in danewort.
+
+The Osmia loves mystery. She wants a dark retreat, hidden from the eye.
+I would like, nevertheless, to watch her in the privacy of her home and
+to witness her work with the same facility as if she were nest-building
+in the open air. Perhaps there are some interesting characteristics to
+be picked up in the depths of her retreats. It remains to be seen
+whether my wish can be realized.
+
+When studying the insect's mental capacity, especially its very
+retentive memory for places, I was led to ask myself whether it would
+not be possible to make a suitably-chosen Bee build in any place that I
+wished, even in my study. And I wanted, for an experiment of this sort,
+not an individual but a numerous colony. My preference lent towards the
+Three-horned Osmia, who is very plentiful in my neighbourhood, where,
+together with Latreille's Osmia, she frequents in particular the
+monstrous nests of the Chalicodoma of the Sheds. I therefore thought
+out a scheme for making the Three-horned Osmia accept my study as her
+settlement and build her nest in glass tubes, through which I could
+easily watch the progress. To these crystal galleries, which might well
+inspire a certain distrust, were to be added more natural retreats:
+reeds of every length and thickness and disused Chalicodoma-nests taken
+from among the biggest and the smallest. A scheme like this sounds mad.
+I admit it, while mentioning that perhaps none ever succeeded so well
+with me. We shall see as much presently.
+
+My method is extremely simple. All I ask is that the birth of my
+insects, that is to say, their first seeing the light, their emerging
+from the cocoon, should take place on the spot where I propose to make
+them settle. Here there must be retreats of no matter what nature, but
+of a shape similar to that in which the Osmia delights. The first
+impressions of sight, which are the most long-lived of any, shall bring
+back my insects to the place of their birth. And not only will the
+Osmiae return, through the always open windows, but they will also
+nidify on the natal spot, if they find something like the necessary
+conditions.
+
+And so, all through the winter, I collect Osmia-cocoons picked up in
+the nests of the Mason-bee of the Sheds; I go to Carpentras to glean a
+more plentiful supply in the nests of the Anthophora. I spread out my
+stock in a large open box on a table which receives a bright diffused
+light but not the direct rays of the sun. The table stands between two
+windows facing south and overlooking the garden. When the moment of
+hatching comes, those two windows will always remain open to give the
+swarm entire liberty to go in and out as it pleases. The glass tubes
+and reed-stumps are laid here and there, in fine disorder, close to the
+heaps of cocoons and all in a horizontal position, for the Osmia will
+have nothing to do with upright reeds. Although such a precaution is
+not indispensable, I take care to place some cocoons in each cylinder.
+The hatching of some of the Osmiae will therefore take place under
+cover of the galleries destined to be the building-yard later; and the
+site will be all the more deeply impressed on their memory. When I have
+made these comprehensive arrangements, there is nothing more to be
+done; and I wait patiently for the building-season to open.
+
+My Osmiae leave their cocoons in the second half of April. Under the
+immediate rays of the sun, in well-sheltered nooks, the hatching would
+occur a month earlier, as we can see from the mixed population of the
+snowy almond-tree. The constant shade in my study has delayed the
+awakening, without, however, making any change in the nesting-period,
+which synchronizes with the flowering of the thyme. We now have, around
+my working-table, my books, my jars and my various appliances, a
+buzzing crowd that goes in and out of the windows at every moment. I
+enjoin the household henceforth not to touch a thing in the insects'
+laboratory, to do no more sweeping, no more dusting. They might disturb
+a swarm and make it think that my hospitality was not to be trusted.
+During four or five weeks I witness the work of a number of Osmiae
+which is much too large to allow my watching their individual
+operations. I content myself with a few, whom I mark with
+different- spots to distinguish them; and I take no notice of
+the others, whose finished work will have my attention later.
+
+The first to appear are the males. If the sun is bright, they flutter
+around the heap of tubes as if to take careful note of the locality;
+blows are exchanged and the rival swains indulge in mild skirmishing on
+the floor, then shake the dust off their wings. They fly assiduously
+from tube to tube, placing their heads in the orifices to see if some
+female will at last make up her mind to emerge.
+
+One does, in point of fact. She is covered with dust and has the
+disordered toilet that is inseparable from the hard work of the
+deliverance. A lover has seen her, so has a second, likewise a third.
+All crowd round her. The lady responds to their advances by clashing
+her mandibles, which open and shut rapidly, several times in
+succession. The suitors forthwith fall back; and they also, no doubt to
+keep up their dignity, execute savage mandibular grimaces. Then the
+beauty retires into the arbour and her wooers resume their places on
+the threshold. A fresh appearance of the female, who repeats the play
+with her jaws; a fresh retreat of the males, who do the best they can
+to flourish their own pincers. The Osmiae have a strange way of
+declaring their passion: with that fearsome gnashing of their
+mandibles, the lovers look as though they meant to devour each other.
+It suggests the thumps affected by our yokels in their moments of
+gallantry.
+
+The ingenuous idyll is soon over. The females, who grow more numerous
+from day to day, inspect the premises; they buzz outside the glass
+galleries and the reed dwellings; they go in, stay for a while, come
+out, go in again and then fly away briskly into the garden. They
+return, first one, then another. They halt outside, in the sun, or on
+the shutters fastened back against the wall; they hover in the
+window-recess, come inside, go to the reeds and give a glance at them,
+only to set off again and to return soon after. Thus do they learn to
+know their home, thus do they fix their birthplace in their memory. The
+village of our childhood is always a cherished spot, never to be
+effaced from our recollection. The Osmia's life endures for a month;
+and she acquires a lasting remembrance of her hamlet in a couple of
+days. 'Twas there that she was born; 'twas there that she loved; 'tis
+there that she will return. Dulces reminiscitur Argos.
+
+  (Now falling by another's wound, his eyes
+  He casts to heaven, on Argos thinks and dies.
+  --"Aeneid" Book 10, Dryden's translation.)
+
+At last each has made her choice. The work of construction begins; and
+my expectations are fulfilled far beyond my wishes. The Osmiae build
+nests in all the retreats which I have placed at their disposal. And
+now, O my Osmiae, I leave you a free field!
+
+The work begins with a thorough spring-cleaning of the home. Remnants
+of cocoons, dirt consisting of spoilt honey, bits of plaster from
+broken partitions, remains of dried Mollusc at the bottom of a shell:
+these and much other insanitary refuse must first of all disappear.
+Violently the Osmia tugs at the offending object and tears it out; and
+then off she goes in a desperate hurry, to dispose of it far away from
+the study. They are all alike, these ardent sweepers: in their
+excessive zeal, they fear lest they should block up the speck of dust
+which they might drop in front of the new house. The glass tubes, which
+I myself have rinsed under the tap, are not exempt from a scrupulous
+cleaning. The Osmia dusts them, brushes them thoroughly with her tarsi
+and then sweeps them out backwards. What does she pick up? Not a thing.
+It makes no difference: as a conscientious housewife, she gives the
+place a touch of the broom nevertheless.
+
+Now for the provisions and the partition-walls. Here the order of the
+work changes according to the diameter of the cylinder. My glass tubes
+vary greatly in dimensions. The largest have an inner width of a dozen
+millimetres (Nearly half an inch.--Translator's Note.); the narrowest
+measure six or seven. (About a quarter of an inch.--Translator's Note.)
+In the latter, if the bottom suit her, the Osmia sets to work bringing
+pollen and honey. If the bottom do not suit her, if the sorghum-pith
+plug with which I have closed the rear-end of the tube be too irregular
+and badly-joined, the Bee coats it with a little mortar. When this
+small repair is made, the harvesting begins.
+
+In the wider tubes, the work proceeds quite differently. At the moment
+when the Osmia disgorges her honey and especially at the moment when,
+with her hind-tarsi, she rubs the pollen-dust from her ventral brush,
+she needs a narrow aperture, just big enough to allow of her passage. I
+imagine that in a straitened gallery the rubbing of her whole body
+against the sides gives the harvester a support for her brushing-work.
+In a spacious cylinder this support fails her; and the Osmia starts
+with creating one for herself, which she does by narrowing the channel.
+Whether it be to facilitate the storing of the victuals or for any
+other reason, the fact remains that the Osmia housed in a wide tube
+begins with the partitioning.
+
+Her division is made by a dab of clay placed at right angles to the
+axis of the cylinder, at a distance from the bottom determined by the
+ordinary length of a cell. The wad is not a complete round; it is more
+crescent-shaped, leaving a circular space between it and one side of
+the tube. Fresh layers are swiftly added to the dab of clay; and soon
+the tube is divided by a partition which has a circular opening at the
+side of it, a sort of dog-hole through which the Osmia will proceed to
+knead the Bee-bread. When the victualling is finished and the egg laid
+upon the heap, the whole is closed and the filled-up partition becomes
+the bottom of the next cell. Then the same method is repeated, that is
+to say, in front of the just completed ceiling a second partition is
+built, again with a side-passage, which is stouter, owing to its
+distance from the centre, and better able to withstand the numerous
+comings and goings of the housewife than a central orifice, deprived of
+the direct support of the wall, could hope to be. When this partition
+is ready, the provisioning of the second cell is effected; and so on
+until the wide cylinder is completely stocked.
+
+The building of this preliminary party-wall, with a narrow, round
+dog-hole, for a chamber to which the victuals will not be brought until
+later is not restricted to the Three-horned Osmia; it is also
+frequently found in the case of the Horned Osmia and of Latreille's
+Osmia. Nothing could be prettier than the work of the last-named, who
+goes to the plants for her material and fashions a delicate sheet in
+which she cuts a graceful arch. The Chinaman partitions his house with
+paper screens; Latreille's Osmia divides hers with disks of thin green
+cardboard perforated with a serving-hatch which remains until the room
+is completely furnished. When we have no glass houses at our disposal,
+we can see these little architectural refinements in the reeds of the
+hurdles, if we open them at the right season.
+
+By splitting the bramble-stumps in the course of July, we perceive also
+that the Three-pronged Osmia notwithstanding her narrow gallery,
+follows the same practice as Latreille's Osmia, with a difference. She
+does not build a party-wall, which the diameter of the cylinder would
+not permit; she confines herself to putting up a frail circular pad of
+green putty, as though to limit, before any attempt at harvesting, the
+space to be occupied by the Bee-bread, whose depth could not be
+calculated afterwards if the insect did not first mark out its
+confines.
+
+If, in order to see the Osmia's nest as a whole, we split a reed
+lengthwise, taking care not to disturb its contents; or, better still,
+if we select for examination the string of cells built in a glass tube,
+we are forthwith struck by one detail, namely, the uneven distances
+between the partitions, which are placed almost at right angles to the
+axis of the cylinder. It is these distances which fix the size of the
+chambers, which, with a similar base, have different heights and
+consequently unequal holding-capacities. The bottom partitions, the
+oldest, are farther apart; those of the front part, near the orifice,
+are closer together. Moreover, the provisions are plentiful in the
+loftier cells, whereas they are niggardly and reduced to one-half or
+even one-third in the cells of lesser height. Let me say at once that
+the large cells are destined for the females and the small ones for the
+males.
+
+DISTRIBUTION OF THE SEXES.
+
+Does the insect which stores up provisions proportionate to the needs
+of the egg which it is about to lay know beforehand the sex of that
+egg? Or is the truth even more paradoxical? What we have to do is to
+turn this suspicion into a certainty demonstrated by experiment. And
+first let us find out how the sexes are arranged.
+
+It is not possible to ascertain the chronological order of a laying,
+except by going to suitably-chosen species. Fortunately there are a few
+species in which we do not find this difficulty: these are the Bees who
+keep to one gallery and build their cells in storeys. Among the number
+are the different inhabitants of the bramble-stumps, notably the
+Three-pronged Osmiae, who form an excellent subject for observation,
+partly because they are of imposing size--bigger than any other
+bramble-dwellers in my neighbourhood--partly because they are so
+plentiful.
+
+Let us briefly recall the Osmia's habits. Amid the tangle of a hedge, a
+bramble-stalk is selected, still standing, but a mere withered stump.
+In this the insect digs a more or less deep tunnel, an easy piece of
+work owing to the abundance of soft pith. Provisions are heaped up
+right at the bottom of the tunnel and an egg is laid on the surface of
+the food: that is the first-born of the family. At a height of some
+twelve millimetres (About half an inch.--Translator's Note.), a
+partition is fixed. This gives a second storey, which in its turn
+receives provisions and an egg, the second in order of primogeniture.
+And so it goes on, storey by storey, until the cylinder is full. Then
+the thick plug of the same green material of which the partitions are
+formed closes the home and keeps out marauders.
+
+In this common cradle, the chronological order of births is perfectly
+clear. The first-born of the family is at the bottom of the series; the
+last-born is at the top, near the closed door. The others follow from
+bottom to top in the same order in which they followed in point of
+time. The laying is numbered automatically; each cocoon tells us its
+respective age by the place which it occupies.
+
+A number of eggs bordering on fifteen represents the entire family of
+an Osmia, and my observations enable me to state that the distribution
+of the sexes is not governed by any rule. All that I can say in general
+is that the complete series begins with females and nearly always ends
+with males. The incomplete series--those which the insect has laid in
+various places--can teach us nothing in this respect, for they are only
+fragments starting we know not whence; and it is impossible to tell
+whether they should be ascribed to the beginning, to the end, or to an
+intermediate period of the laying. To sum up: in the laying of the
+Three-pronged Osmia, no order governs the succession of the sexes;
+only, the series has a marked tendency to begin with females and to
+finish with males.
+
+The mother occupies herself at the start with the stronger sex, the
+more necessary, the better-gifted, the female sex, to which she devotes
+the first flush of her laying and the fullness of her vigour; later,
+when she is perhaps already at the end of her strength, she bestows
+what remains of her maternal solicitude upon the weaker sex, the
+less-gifted, almost negligible male sex. There are, however, other
+species where this law becomes absolute, constant and regular.
+
+In order to go more deeply into this curious question I installed some
+hives of a new kind on the sunniest walls of my enclosure. They
+consisted of stumps of the great reed of the south, open at one end,
+closed at the other by the natural knot and gathered into a sort of
+enormous pan-pipe, such as Polyphemus might have employed. The
+invitation was accepted: Osmiae came in fairly large numbers, to
+benefit by the queer installation.
+
+Three Osmiae especially (O. Tricornis, Latr., O. cornuta, Latr., O.
+Latreillii, Spin.) gave me splendid results, with reed-stumps arranged
+either against the wall of my garden, as I have just said, or near
+their customary abode, the huge nests of the Mason-bee of the Sheds.
+One of them, the Three-horned Osmia, did better still: as I have
+described, she built her nests in my study, as plentifully as I could
+wish.
+
+We will consult this last, who has furnished me with documents beyond
+my fondest hopes, and begin by asking her of how many eggs her average
+laying consists. Of the whole heap of colonized tubes in my study, or
+else out of doors, in the hurdle-reeds and the pan-pipe appliances, the
+best-filled contains fifteen cells, with a free space above the series,
+a space showing that the laying is ended, for, if the mother had any
+more eggs available, she would have lodged them in the room which she
+leaves unoccupied. This string of fifteen appears to be rare; it was
+the only one that I found. My attempts at indoor rearing, pursued
+during two years with glass tubes or reeds, taught me that the
+Three-horned Osmia is not much addicted to long series. As though to
+decrease the difficulties of the coming deliverance, she prefers short
+galleries, in which only a part of the laying is stacked. We must then
+follow the same mother in her migration from one dwelling to the next
+if we would obtain a complete census of her family. A spot of colour,
+dropped on the Bee's thorax with a paint-brush while she is absorbed in
+closing up the mouth of the tunnel, enables us to recognize the Osmia
+in her various homes.
+
+In this way, the swarm that resided in my study furnished me, in the
+first year, with an average of twelve cells. Next year, the summer
+appeared to be more favourable and the average became rather higher,
+reaching fifteen. The most numerous laying performed under my eyes, not
+in a tube, but in a succession of Snail-shells, reached the figure of
+twenty-six. On the other hand, layings of between eight and ten are not
+uncommon. Lastly, taking all my records together, the result is that
+the family of the Osmia fluctuates roundabout fifteen in number.
+
+I have already spoken of the great differences in size apparent in the
+cells of one and the same series. The partitions, at first widely
+spaced, draw gradually nearer to one another as they come closer to the
+aperture, which implies roomy cells at the back and narrow cells in
+front. The contents of these compartments are no less uneven between
+one portion and another of the string. Without any exception known to
+me, the large cells, those with which the series starts, have more
+abundant provisions than the straitened cells with which the series
+ends. The heap of honey and pollen in the first is twice or even thrice
+as large as that in the second. In the last cells, the most recent in
+date, the victuals are but a pinch of pollen, so niggardly in amount
+that we wonder what will become of the larva with that meagre ration.
+
+One would think that the Osmia, when nearing the end of the laying,
+attaches no importance to her last-born, to whom she doles out space
+and food so sparingly. The first-born receive the benefit of her early
+enthusiasm: theirs is the well-spread table, theirs the spacious
+apartments. The work has begun to pall by the time that the last eggs
+are laid; and the last-comers have to put up with a scurvy portion of
+food and a tiny corner.
+
+The difference shows itself in another way after the cocoons are spun.
+The large cells, those at the back, receive the bulky cocoons; the
+small ones, those in front, have cocoons only half or a third as big.
+Before opening them and ascertaining the sex of the Osmia inside, let
+us wait for the transformation into the perfect insect, which will take
+place towards the end of summer. If impatience get the better of us, we
+can open them at the end of July or in August. The insect is then in
+the nymphal stage; and it is easy, under this form, to distinguish the
+two sexes by the length of the antennae, which are larger in the males,
+and by the glassy protuberances on the forehead, the sign of the future
+armour of the females. Well, the small cocoons, those in the narrow
+front cells, with their scanty store of provisions, all belong to
+males; the big cocoons, those in the spacious and well-stocked cells at
+the back, all belong to females.
+
+The conclusion is definite: the laying of the Three-horned Osmia
+consists of two distinct groups, first a group of females and then a
+group of males.
+
+With my pan-pipe apparatus displayed on the walls of my enclosure and
+with old hurdle-reeds left lying flat out of doors, I obtained the
+Horned Osmia in fair quantities. I persuaded Latreille's Osmia to build
+her nest in reeds, which she did with a zeal which I was far from
+expecting. All that I had to do was to lay some reed-stumps
+horizontally within her reach, in the immediate neighbourhood of her
+usual haunts, namely, the nests of the Mason-bee of the Sheds. Lastly,
+I succeeded without difficulty in making her build her nests in the
+privacy of my study, with glass tubes for a house. The result surpassed
+my hopes.
+
+With both these Osmiae, the division of the gallery is the same as with
+the Three-horned Osmia. At the back are large cells with plentiful
+provisions and widely-spaced partitions; in front, small cells, with
+scanty provisions and partitions close together. Also, the larger cells
+supplied me with big cocoons and females; the smaller cells gave me
+little cocoons and males. The conclusion therefore is exactly the same
+in the case of all three Osmiae.
+
+These conclusions, as my notes show, apply likewise, in every respect,
+to the various species of Mason-bees; and one clear and simple rule
+stands out from this collection of facts. Apart from the strange
+exception of the Three-pronged Osmia, who mixes the sexes without any
+order, the Bees whom I studied and probably a crowd of others produce
+first a continuous series of females and then a continuous series of
+males, the latter with less provisions and smaller cells. This
+distribution of the sexes agrees with what we have long known of the
+Hive-bee, who begins her laying with a long sequence of workers, or
+sterile females, and ends it with a long sequence of males. The analogy
+continues down to the capacity of the cells and the quantities of
+provisions. The real females, the Queen-bees, have wax cells
+incomparably more spacious than the cells of the males and receive a
+much larger amount of food. Everything therefore demonstrates that we
+are here in the presence of a general rule.
+
+OPTIONAL DETERMINATION OF THE SEXES.
+
+But does this rule express the whole truth? Is there nothing beyond a
+laying in two series? Are the Osmiae, the Chalicodomae and the rest of
+them fatally bound by this distribution of the sexes into two distinct
+groups, the male group following upon the female group, without any
+mixing of the two? Is the mother absolutely powerless to make a change
+in this arrangement, should circumstances require it?
+
+The Three-pronged Osmia already shows us that the problem is far from
+being solved. In the same bramble-stump, the two sexes occur very
+irregularly, as though at random. Why this mixture in the series of
+cocoons of a Bee closely related to the Horned Osmia and the
+Three-horned Osmia, who stack theirs methodically by separate sexes in
+the hollow of a reed? What the Bee of the brambles does cannot her
+kinswomen of the reeds do too? Nothing, so far as I know, explains this
+fundamental difference in a physiological act of primary importance.
+The three Bees belong to the same genus; they resemble one another in
+general outline, internal structure and habits; and, with this close
+similarity, we suddenly find a strange dissimilarity.
+
+There is just one thing that might possibly arouse a suspicion of the
+cause of this irregularity in the Three-pronged Osmia's laying. If I
+open a bramble-stump in the winter to examine the Osmia's nest, I find
+it impossible, in the vast majority of cases, to distinguish positively
+between a female and a male cocoon: the difference in size is so small.
+The cells, moreover, have the same capacity: the diameter of the
+cylinder is the same throughout and the partitions are almost always
+the same distance apart. If I open it in July, the victualling-period,
+it is impossible for me to distinguish between the provisions destined
+for the males and those destined for the females. The measurement of
+the column of honey gives practically the same depth in all the cells.
+We find an equal quantity of space and food for both sexes.
+
+This result makes us foresee what a direct examination of the two sexes
+in the adult form tells us. The male does not differ materially from
+the female in respect of size. If he is a trifle smaller, it is
+scarcely noticeable, whereas, in the Horned Osmia and the Three-horned
+Osmia, the male is only half or a third the size of the female, as we
+have seen from the respective bulk of their cocoons. In the Mason-bee
+of the Walls there is also a difference in size, though less
+pronounced.
+
+The Three-pronged Osmia has not therefore to trouble about adjusting
+the dimensions of the dwelling and the quantity of the food to the sex
+of the egg which she is about to lay; the measure is the same from one
+end of the series to the other. It does not matter if the sexes
+alternate without order: one and all will find what they need, whatever
+their position in the row. The two other Osmiae, with their great
+disparity in size between the two sexes, have to be careful about the
+twofold consideration of board and lodging.
+
+The more I thought about this curious question, the more probable it
+appeared to me that the irregular series of the Three-pronged Osmia and
+the regular series of the other Osmiae and of the Bees in general were
+all traceable to a common law. It seemed to me that the arrangement in
+a succession first of females and then of males did not account for
+everything. There must be something more. And I was right: that
+arrangement in series is only a tiny fraction of the reality, which is
+remarkable in a very different way. This is what I am going to prove by
+experiment.
+
+The succession first of females and then of males is not, in fact,
+invariable. Thus, the Chalicodoma, whose nests serve for two or three
+generations, ALWAYS lays male eggs in the old male cells, which can be
+recognized by their lesser capacity, and female eggs in the old female
+cells of more spacious dimensions.
+
+This presence of both sexes at a time, even when there are but two
+cells free, one spacious and the other small, proves in the plainest
+fashion that the regular distribution observed in the complete nests of
+recent production is here replaced by an irregular distribution,
+harmonizing with the number and holding-capacity of the chambers to be
+stocked. The Mason-bee has before her, let me suppose, only five vacant
+cells: two larger and three smaller. The total space at her disposal
+would do for about a third of the laying. Well, in the two large cells,
+she puts females; in the three small cells she puts males.
+
+As we find the same sort of thing in all the old nests, we must needs
+admit that the mother knows the sex of the eggs which she is going to
+lay, because that egg is placed in a cell of the proper capacity. We
+can go further, and admit that the mother alters the order of
+succession of the sexes at her pleasure, because her layings, between
+one old nest and another, are broken up into small groups of males and
+females according to the exigencies of space in the actual nest which
+she happens to be occupying.
+
+Here then is the Chalicodoma, when mistress of an old nest of which she
+has not the power to alter the arrangement, breaking up her laying into
+sections comprising both sexes just as required by the conditions
+imposed upon her. She therefore decides the sex of the egg at will,
+for, without this prerogative, she could not, in the chambers of the
+nest which she owes to chance, deposit unerringly the sex for which
+those chambers were originally built; and this happens however small
+the number of chambers to be filled.
+
+When the mother herself founds the dwelling, when she lays the first
+rows of bricks, the females come first and the males at the finish.
+But, when she is in the presence of an old nest, of which she is quite
+unable to alter the general arrangement, how is she to make use of a
+few vacant rooms, the large and small alike, if the sex of the egg be
+already irrevocably fixed? She can only do so by abandoning the
+arrangement in two consecutive rows and accommodating her laying to the
+varied exigencies of the home. Either she finds it impossible to make
+an economical use of the old nest, a theory refuted by the evidence, or
+else she determines at will the sex of the egg which she is about to
+lay.
+
+The Osmiae themselves will furnish the most conclusive evidence on the
+latter point. We have seen that these Bees are not generally miners,
+who themselves dig out the foundation of their cells. They make use of
+the old structures of others, or else of natural retreats, such as
+hollow stems, the spirals of empty shells and various hiding-places in
+walls, clay or wood. Their work is confined to repairs to the house,
+such as partitions and covers. There are plenty of these retreats; and
+the insects would always find first-class ones if it thought of going
+any distance to look for them. But the Osmia is a stay-at-home: she
+returns to her birthplace and clings to it with a patience extremely
+difficult to exhaust. It is here, in this little familiar corner, that
+she prefers to settle her progeny. But then the apartments are few in
+number and of all shapes and sizes. There are long and short ones,
+spacious ones and narrow. Short of expatriating herself, a Spartan
+course, she has to use them all, from first to last, for she has no
+choice. Guided by these considerations, I embarked on the experiments
+which I will now describe.
+
+I have said how my study became a populous hive, in which the
+Three-horned Osmia built her nests in the various appliances which I
+had prepared for her. Among these appliances, tubes, either of glass or
+reed, predominated. There were tubes of all lengths and widths. In the
+long tubes, entire or almost entire layings, with a series of females
+followed by a series of males, were deposited. As I have already
+referred to this result, I will not discuss it again. The short tubes
+were sufficiently varied in length to lodge one or other portion of the
+total laying. Basing my calculations on the respective lengths of the
+cocoons of the two sexes, on the thickness of the partitions and the
+final lid, I shortened some of these to the exact dimensions required
+for two cocoons only, of different sexes.
+
+Well, these short tubes, whether of glass or reed, were seized upon as
+eagerly as the long tubes. Moreover, they yielded this splendid result:
+their contents, only a part of the total laying, always began with
+female and ended with male cocoons. This order was invariable; what
+varied was the number of cells in the long tubes and the proportion
+between the two sorts of cocoons, sometimes males predominating and
+sometimes females.
+
+When confronted with tubes too small to receive all her family, the
+Osmia is in the same plight as the Mason-bee in the presence of an old
+nest. She thereupon acts exactly as the Chalicodoma does. She breaks up
+her laying, divides it into series as short as the room at her disposal
+demands; and each series begins with females and ends with males. This
+breaking up, on the one hand, into sections in all of which both sexes
+are represented and the division, on the other hand, of the entire
+laying into just two groups, one female, the other male, when the
+length of the tube permits, surely provide us with ample evidence of
+the insect's power to regulate the sex of the egg according to the
+exigencies of space.
+
+And besides the exigencies of space one might perhaps venture to add
+those connected with the earlier development of the males. These burst
+their cocoons a couple of weeks or more before the females; they are
+the first who hasten to the sweets of the almond-tree. In order to
+release themselves and emerge into the glad sunlight without disturbing
+the string of cocoons wherein their sisters are still sleeping, they
+must occupy the upper end of the row; and this, no doubt, is the reason
+that makes the Osmia end each of her broken layings with males. Being
+next to the door, these impatient ones will leave the home without
+upsetting the shells that are slower in hatching.
+
+I had offered at the same time to the Osmiae in my study some old nests
+of the Mason-bee of the Shrubs, which are clay spheroids with
+cylindrical cavities in them. These cavities are formed, as in the old
+nests of the Mason-bee of the Pebbles, of the cell properly so-called
+and of the exit-way which the perfect insect cut through the outer
+coating at the time of its deliverance. The diameter is about 7
+millimetres (.273 inch.--Translator's Note.); their depth at the centre
+of the heap is 23 millimetres (.897 inch.--Translator's Note.) and at
+the edge averages 14 millimetres. (.546 inch.--Translator's Note.)
+
+The deep central cells receive only the females of the Osmia; sometimes
+even the two sexes together, with a partition in the middle, the female
+occupying the lower and the male the upper storey. Lastly, the deeper
+cavities on the circumference are allotted to females and the shallower
+to males.
+
+We know that the Three-horned Osmia prefers to haunt the habitations of
+the Bees who nidify in populous colonies, such as the Mason-bee of the
+Sheds and the Hairy-footed Anthophora, in whose nests I have noted
+similar facts.
+
+Thus the sex of the egg is optional. The choice rests with the mother,
+who is guided by considerations of space and, according to the
+accommodation at her disposal, which is frequently fortuitous and
+incapable of modification, places a female in this cell and a male in
+that, so that both may have a dwelling of a size suited to their
+unequal development. This is the unimpeachable evidence of the numerous
+and varied facts which I have set forth. People unfamiliar with insect
+anatomy--the public for whom I write--would probably give the following
+explanation of this marvellous prerogative of the Bee: the mother has
+at her disposal a certain number of eggs, some of which are irrevocably
+female and the others irrevocably male: she is able to pick out of
+either group the one which she wants at the actual moment; and her
+choice is decided by the holding capacity of the cell that has to be
+stocked. Everything would then be limited to a judicious selection from
+the heap of eggs.
+
+Should this idea occur to him, the reader must hasten to reject it.
+Nothing could be more false, as the most casual reference to anatomy
+will show. The female reproductive apparatus of the Hymenoptera
+consists generally of six ovarian tubes, something like glove-fingers,
+divided into bunches of three and ending in a common canal, the
+oviduct, which carries the eggs outside. Each of these glove-fingers is
+fairly wide at the base, but tapers sharply towards the tip, which is
+closed. It contains, arranged in a row, one after the other, like beads
+on a string, a certain number of eggs, five or six for instance, of
+which the lower ones are more or less developed, the middle ones
+halfway towards maturity, and the upper ones very rudimentary. Every
+stage of evolution is here represented, distributed regularly from
+bottom to top, from the verge of maturity to the vague outlines of the
+embryo. The sheath clasps its string of ovules so closely that any
+inversion of the order is impossible. Besides, an inversion would
+result in a gross absurdity: the replacing of a riper egg by another in
+an earlier stage of development.
+
+Therefore, in each ovarian tube, in each glove-finger, the emergence of
+the eggs occurs according to the order governing their arrangement in
+the common sheath; and any other sequence is absolutely impossible.
+Moreover, at the nesting-period, the six ovarian sheaths, one by one
+and each in its turn, have at their base an egg which in a very short
+time swells enormously. Some hours or even a day before the laying,
+that egg by itself represents or even exceeds in bulk the whole of the
+ovigerous apparatus. This is the egg which is on the point of being
+laid. It is about to descend into the oviduct, in its proper order, at
+its proper time; and the mother has no power to make another take its
+place. It is this egg, necessarily this egg and no other, that will
+presently be laid upon the provisions, whether these be a mess of honey
+or a live prey; it alone is ripe, it alone lies at the entrance to the
+oviduct; none of the others, since they are farther back in the row and
+not at the right stage of development, can be substituted at this
+crisis. Its birth is inevitable.
+
+What will it yield, a male or a female? No lodging has been prepared,
+no food collected for it; and yet both food and lodging have to be in
+keeping with the sex that will proceed from it. And here is a much more
+puzzling condition: the sex of that egg, whose advent is predestined,
+has to correspond with the space which the mother happens to have found
+for a cell. There is therefore no room for hesitation, strange though
+the statement may appear: the egg, as it descends from its ovarian
+tube, has no determined sex. It is perhaps during the few hours of its
+rapid development at the base of its ovarian sheath, it is perhaps on
+its passage through the oviduct that it receives, at the mother's
+pleasure, the final impress that will produce, to match the cradle
+which it has to fill, either a female or a male.
+
+PERMUTATIONS OF SEX.
+
+Thereupon the following question presents itself. Let us admit that,
+when the normal conditions remain, a laying would have yielded m
+females and n males. Then, if my conclusions are correct, it must be in
+the mother's power, when the conditions are different, to take from the
+m group and increase the n group to the same extent; it must be
+possible for her laying to be represented as m - 1, m - 2, m - 3, etc.
+females and by n + 1, n + 2, n + 3, etc. males, the sum of m + n
+remaining constant, but one of the sexes being partly permuted into the
+other. The ultimate conclusion even cannot be disregarded: we must
+admit a set of eggs represented by m - m, or zero, females and of n + m
+males, one of the sexes being completely replaced by the other.
+Conversely, it must be possible for the feminine series to be augmented
+from the masculine series to the extent of absorbing it entirely. It
+was to solve this question and some others connected with it that I
+undertook, for the second time, to rear the Three-horned Osmia in my
+study.
+
+The problem on this occasion is a more delicate one; but I am also
+better-equipped. My apparatus consists of two small closed
+packing-cases, with the front side of each pierced with forty holes, in
+which I can insert my glass tubes and keep them in a horizontal
+position. I thus obtain for the Bees the darkness and mystery which
+suit their work and for myself the power of withdrawing from my hive,
+at any time, any tube that I wish, with the Osmia inside, so as to
+carry it to the light and follow, if need be with the aid of the lens,
+the operations of the busy worker. My investigations, however frequent
+and minute, in no way hinder the peaceable Bee, who remains absorbed in
+her maternal duties.
+
+I mark a plentiful number of my guests with a variety of dots on the
+thorax, which enables me to follow any one Osmia from the beginning to
+the end of her laying. The tubes and their respective holes are
+numbered; a list, always lying open on my desk, enables me to note from
+day to day, sometimes from hour to hour, what happens in each tube and
+particularly the actions of the Osmiae whose backs bear distinguishing
+marks. As soon as one tube is filled, I replace it by another.
+Moreover, I have scattered in front of either hive a few handfuls of
+empty Snail-shells, specially chosen for the object which I have in
+view. Reasons which I will explain later led me to prefer the shells of
+Helix caespitum. Each of the shells, as and when stocked, received the
+date of the laying and the alphabetical sign corresponding with the
+Osmia to whom it belonged. In this way, I spent five or six weeks in
+continual observation. To succeed in an enquiry, the first and foremost
+condition is patience. This condition I fulfilled; and it was rewarded
+with the success which I was justified in expecting.
+
+The tubes employed are of two kinds. The first, which are cylindrical
+and of the same width throughout, will be of use for confirming the
+facts observed in the first year of my experiments in indoor rearing.
+The others, the majority, consist of two cylinders which are of very
+different diameters, set end to end. The front cylinder, the one which
+projects a little way outside the hive and forms the entrance-hole,
+varies in width between 8 and 12 millimetres. (Between .312 and .468
+inch.--Translator's Note.) The second, the back one, contained entirely
+within my packing-case, is closed at its far end and is 5 to 6
+millimetres in diameter. (.195 to .234 inch.--Translator's Note.) Each
+of the two parts of the double-galleried tunnel, one narrow and one
+wide, measures at most a decimetre in length. (3.9
+inches.--Translator's Note.) I thought it advisable to have these short
+tubes, as the Osmia is thus compelled to select different lodgings,
+each of them being insufficient in itself to accommodate the total
+laying. In this way I shall obtain a greater variety in the
+distribution of the sexes. Lastly, at the mouth of each tube, which
+projects slightly outside the case, there is a little paper tongue,
+forming a sort of perch on which the Osmia alights on her arrival and
+giving easy access to the house. With these facilities, the swarm
+colonized fifty-two double-galleried tubes, thirty-seven cylindrical
+tubes, seventy-eight Snail-shells and a few old nests of the Mason-bee
+of the Shrubs. From this rich mine of material I will take what I want
+to prove my case.
+
+Every series, even when incomplete, begins with females and ends with
+males. To this rule I have not yet found an exception, at least in
+galleries of normal diameter. In each new abode the mother busies
+herself first of all with the more important sex. Bearing this point in
+mind, would it be possible for me, by manoeuvring, to obtain an
+inversion of this order and make the laying begin with males? I think
+so, from the results already ascertained and the irresistible
+conclusions to be drawn from them. The double-galleried tubes are
+installed in order to put my conjectures to the proof.
+
+The back gallery, 5 or 6 millimetres wide (.195 to .234
+inch.--Translator's Note.), is too narrow to serve as a lodging for
+normally developed females. If, therefore, the Osmia, who is very
+economical of her space, wishes to occupy them, she will be obliged to
+establish males there. And her laying must necessarily begin here,
+because this corner is the rear-most part of the tube. The foremost
+gallery is wide, with an entrance-door on the front of the hive. Here,
+finding the conditions to which she is accustomed, the mother will go
+on with her laying in the order which she prefers.
+
+Let us now see what has happened. Of the fifty-two double-galleried
+tubes, about a third did not have their narrow passage colonized. The
+Osmia closed its aperture communicating with the large passage; and the
+latter alone received the eggs. This waste of space was inevitable. The
+female Osmiae, though nearly always larger than the males, present
+marked differences among one another: some are bigger, some are
+smaller. I had to adjust the width of the narrow galleries to Bees of
+average dimensions. It may happen therefore that a gallery is too small
+to admit the large-sized mothers to whom chance allots it. When the
+Osmia is unable to enter the tube, obviously she will not colonize it.
+She then closes the entrance to this space which she cannot use and
+does her laying beyond it, in the wide tube. Had I tried to avoid these
+useless apparatus by choosing tubes of larger calibre, I should have
+encountered another drawback: the medium-sized mothers, finding
+themselves almost comfortable, would have decided to lodge females
+there. I had to be prepared for it: as each mother selected her house
+at will and as I was unable to interfere in her choice, a narrow tube
+would be colonized or not, according as the Osmia who owned it was or
+was not able to make her way inside.
+
+There remain some forty pairs of tubes with both galleries colonized.
+In these there are two things to take into consideration. The narrow
+rear tubes of 5 or 5 1/2 millimetres (.195 to .214 inch.--Translator's
+Note.)--and these are the most numerous--contain males and males only,
+but in short series, between one and five. The mother is here so much
+hampered in her work that they are rarely occupied from end to end; the
+Osmia seems in a hurry to leave them and to go and colonize the front
+tube, whose ample space will leave her the liberty of movement
+necessary for her operations. The other rear tubes, the minority, whose
+diameter is about 6 millimetres (.234 inch.--Translator's Note.),
+contain sometimes only females and sometimes females at the back and
+males towards the opening. One can see that a tube a trifle wider and a
+mother slightly smaller would account for this difference in the
+results. Nevertheless, as the necessary space for a female is barely
+provided in this case, we see that the mother avoids as far as she can
+a two-sex arrangement beginning with males and that she adopts it only
+in the last extremity. Finally, whatever the contents of the small tube
+may be, those of the large one, following upon it, never vary and
+consist of females at the back and males in front.
+
+Though incomplete, because of circumstances very difficult to control,
+the result of the experiment is none the less very remarkable.
+Twenty-five apparatus contain only males in their narrow gallery, in
+numbers varying from a minimum of one to a maximum of five. After these
+comes the colony of the large gallery, beginning with females and
+ending with males. And the layings in these apparatus do not always
+belong to late summer or even to the intermediate period: a few small
+tubes contain the earliest eggs of the entire swarm. A couple of
+Osmiae, more forward than the others, set to work on the 23rd of April.
+Both of them started their laying by placing males in the narrow tubes.
+The meagre supply of provisions was enough in itself to show the sex,
+which proved later to be in accordance with my anticipations. We see
+then that, by my artifices, the whole swarm starts with the converse of
+the normal order. This inversion is continued, at no matter what
+period, from the beginning to the end of the operations. The series
+which, according to rule, would begin with females now begins with
+males. Once the larger gallery is reached, the laying is pursued in the
+usual order.
+
+We have advanced one step and that no small one: we have seen that the
+Osmia, when circumstances require it, is capable of reversing the
+sequence of the sexes. Would it be possible, provided that the tube
+were long enough, to obtain a complete inversion, in which the entire
+series of the males should occupy the narrow gallery at the back and
+the entire series of the females the roomy gallery in front? I think
+not; and I will tell you why.
+
+Long and narrow cylinders are by no means to the Osmia's taste, not
+because of their narrowness but because of their length. Observe that
+for each load of honey brought the worker is obliged to move backwards
+twice. She enters, head first, to begin by disgorging the honey-syrup
+from her crop. Unable to turn in a passage which she blocks entirely,
+she goes out backwards, crawling rather than walking, a laborious
+performance on the polished surface of the glass and a performance
+which, with any other surface, would still be very awkward, as the
+wings are bound to rub against the wall with their free end and are
+liable to get rumpled or bent. She goes out backwards, reaches the
+outside, turns round and goes in again, but this time the opposite way,
+so as to brush off the load of pollen from her abdomen on to the heap.
+If the gallery is at all long, this crawling backwards becomes
+troublesome after a time; and the Osmia soon abandons a passage that is
+too small to allow of free movement. I have said that the narrow tubes
+of my apparatus are, for the most part, only very incompletely
+colonized. The Bee, after lodging a small number of males in them,
+hastens to leave them. In the wide front gallery she can stay where she
+is and still be able to turn round easily for her different
+manipulations; she will avoid those two long journeys backwards, which
+are so exhausting and so bad for her wings.
+
+Another reason no doubt prompts her not to make too great a use of the
+narrow passage, in which she would establish males, followed by females
+in the part where the gallery widens. The males have to leave their
+cells a couple of weeks or more before the females. If they occupy the
+back of the house they will die prisoners or else they will overturn
+everything on their way out. This risk is avoided by the order which
+the Osmia adopts.
+
+In my tubes, with their unusual arrangement, the mother might well find
+the dilemma perplexing: there is the narrowness of the space at her
+disposal and there is the emergence later on. In the narrow tubes, the
+width is insufficient for the females; on the other hand, if she lodges
+males there, they are liable to perish, since they will be prevented
+from issuing at the proper moment. This would perhaps explain the
+mother's hesitation and her obstinacy in settling females in some of my
+apparatus which looked as if they could suit none but males.
+
+A suspicion occurs to me, a suspicion aroused by my attentive
+examination of the narrow tubes. All, whatever the number of their
+inmates, are carefully plugged at the opening, just as separate tubes
+would be. It might therefore be the case that the narrow gallery at the
+back was looked upon by the Osmia not as the prolongation of the large
+front gallery, but as an independent tube. The facility with which the
+worker turns as soon as she reaches the wide tube, her liberty of
+action, which is now as great as in a doorway communicating with the
+outer air, might well be misleading and cause the Osmia to treat the
+narrow passage at the back as though the wide passage in front did not
+exist. This would account for the placing of the female in the large
+tube above the males in the small tube, an arrangement contrary to her
+custom.
+
+I will not undertake to decide whether the mother really appreciates
+the danger of my snares, or whether she makes a mistake in considering
+only the space at her disposal and beginning with males, who are liable
+to remain imprisoned. At any rate, I perceive a tendency to deviate as
+little as possible from the order which safeguards the emergence of
+both sexes. This tendency is demonstrated by her repugnance to
+colonizing my narrow tubes with long series of males. However, so far
+as we are concerned, it does not matter much what passes at such times
+in the Osmia's little brain. Enough for us to know that she dislikes
+narrow and long tubes, not because they are narrow, but because they
+are at the same time long.
+
+And, in fact, she does very well with a short tube of the same
+diameter. Such are the cells in the old nests of the Mason-bee of the
+Shrubs and the empty shells of the Garden Snail. With the short tube
+the two disadvantages of the long tube are avoided. She has very little
+of that crawling backwards to do when she has a Snail-shell for the
+home of her eggs and scarcely any when the home is the cell of the
+Mason-bee. Moreover, as the stack of cocoons numbers two or three at
+most, the deliverance will be exempt from the difficulties attached to
+a long series. To persuade the Osmia to nidify in a single tube long
+enough to receive the whole of her laying and at the same time narrow
+enough to leave her only just the possibility of admittance appears to
+me a project without the slightest chance of success: the Bee would
+stubbornly refuse such a dwelling or would content herself with
+entrusting only a very small portion of her eggs to it. On the other
+hand, with narrow but short cavities, success, without being easy,
+seems to me at least quite possible. Guided by these considerations, I
+embarked upon the most arduous part of my problem: to obtain the
+complete or almost complete permutation of one sex with the other; to
+produce a laying consisting only of males by offering the mother a
+series of lodgings suited only to males.
+
+Let us in the first place consult the old nests of the Mason-bee of the
+Shrubs. I have said that these mortar spheroids, pierced all over with
+little cylindrical cavities, are a adopted pretty eagerly by the
+Three-horned Osmia, who colonizes them before my eyes with females in
+the deep cells and males in the shallow cells. That is how things go
+when the old nest remains in its natural state. With a grater, however,
+I scrape the outside of another nest so as to reduce the depth of the
+cavities to some ten millimetres. (About two-fifths of an
+inch.--Translator's Note.) This leaves in each cell just room for one
+cocoon, surmounted by the closing stopper. Of the fourteen cavities in
+the nests, I leave two intact, measuring fifteen millimetres in depth.
+(.585 inch.--Translator's Note.) Nothing could be more striking than
+the result of this experiment, made in the first year of my home
+rearing. The twelve cavities whose depth had been reduced all received
+males; the two cavities left untouched received females.
+
+A year passes and I repeat the experiment with a nest of fifteen cells;
+but this time all the cells are reduced to the minimum depth with the
+grater. Well, the fifteen cells, from first to last, are occupied by
+males. It must be quite understood that, in each case, all the
+offspring belonged to one mother, marked with her distinguishing dot
+and kept in sight as long as her laying lasted. He would indeed be
+difficult to please who refused to bow before the results of these two
+experiments. If, however, he is not yet convinced, here is something to
+remove his last doubts.
+
+The Three-horned Osmia often settles her family in old shells,
+especially those of the Common Snail (Helix aspersa), who is so common
+under the stone-heaps and in the crevices of the little unmortared
+walls that support our terraces. In this species the spiral is wide
+open, so that the Osmia, penetrating as far down as the helical passage
+permits, finds, immediately above the point which is too narrow to
+pass, the space necessary for the cell of a female. This cell is
+succeeded by others, wider still, always for females, arranged in a
+line in the same way as in a straight tube. In the last whorl of the
+spiral, the diameter would be too great for a single row. Then
+longitudinal partitions are added to the transverse partitions, the
+whole resulting in cells of unequal dimensions in which males
+predominate, mixed with a few females in the lower storeys. The
+sequence of the sexes is therefore what it would be in a straight tube
+and especially in a tube with a wide bore, where the partitioning is
+complicated by subdivisions on the same level. A single Snail-shell
+contains room for six or eight cells. A large, rough earthen stopper
+finishes the nest at the entrance to the shell.
+
+As a dwelling of this sort could show us nothing new, I chose for my
+swarm the Garden Snail (Helix caespitum), whose shell, shaped like a
+small swollen Ammonite, widens by slow degrees, the diameter of the
+usable portion, right up to the mouth, being hardly greater than that
+required by a male Osmia-cocoon. Moreover, the widest part, in which a
+female might find room, has to receive a thick stopping-plug, below
+which there will often be a free space. Under all these conditions, the
+house will hardly suit any but males arranged one after the other.
+
+The collection of shells placed at the foot of each hive includes
+specimens of different sizes. The smallest are 18 millimetres (.7
+inch.--Translator's Note.) in diameter and the largest 24 millimetres.
+(.936 inch.--Translator's Note.) There is room for two cocoons, or
+three at most, according to their dimensions.
+
+Now these shells were used by my visitors without any hesitation,
+perhaps even with more eagerness than the glass tubes, whose slippery
+sides might easily be a little annoying to the Bee. Some of them were
+occupied on the first few days of the laying; and the Osmia who had
+started with a home of this sort would pass next to a second
+Snail-shell, in the immediate neighbourhood of the first, to a third, a
+fourth and others still, always close together, until her ovaries were
+emptied. The whole family of one mother would thus be lodged in
+Snail-shells which were duly marked with the date of the laying and a
+description of the worker. The faithful adherents of the Snail-shell
+were in the minority. The greater number left the tubes to come to the
+shells and then went back from the shells to the tubes. All, after
+filling the spiral staircase with two or three cells, closed the house
+with a thick earthen stopper on a level with the opening. It was a long
+and troublesome task, in which the Osmia displayed all her patience as
+a mother and all her talents as a plasterer.
+
+When the pupae are sufficiently matured, I proceed to examine these
+elegant abodes. The contents fill me with joy: they fulfil my
+anticipations to the letter. The great, the very great majority of the
+cocoons turn out to be males; here and there, in the bigger cells, a
+few rare females appear. The smallness of the space has almost done
+away with the stronger sex. This result is demonstrated by the
+sixty-eight Snail-shells colonized. But, of this total number, I must
+use only those series which received an entire laying and were occupied
+by the same Osmia from the beginning to the end of the egg-season. Here
+are a few examples, taken from among the most conclusive.
+
+From the 6th of May, when she started operations, to the 25th of May,
+the date at which her laying ceased, one Osmia occupied seven
+Snail-shells in succession. Her family consists of fourteen cocoons, a
+number very near the average; and, of these fourteen cocoons, twelve
+belong to males and only two to females.
+
+Another, between the 9th and 27th of May, stocked six Snail-shells with
+a family of thirteen, including ten males and three females.
+
+A third, between the 2nd and 29th of May colonized eleven Snail-shells,
+a prodigious task. This industrious one was also exceedingly prolific.
+She supplied me with a family of twenty-six, the largest which I have
+ever obtained from one Osmia. Well, this abnormal progeny consisted of
+twenty-five males and one female.
+
+There is no need to go on, after this magnificent example, especially
+as the other series would all, without exception, give us the same
+result. Two facts are immediately obvious: the Osmia is able to reverse
+the order of her laying and to start with a more or less long series of
+males before producing any females. There is something better still;
+and this is the proposition which I was particularly anxious to prove:
+the female sex can be permuted with the male sex and can be permuted to
+the point of disappearing altogether. We see this especially in the
+third case, where the presence of a solitary female in a family of
+twenty-six is due to the somewhat larger diameter of the corresponding
+Snail-shell.
+
+There would still remain the inverse permutation: to obtain only
+females and no males, or very few. The first permutation makes the
+second seem very probable, although I cannot as yet conceive a means of
+realizing it. The only condition which I can regulate is the dimensions
+of the home. When the rooms are small, the males abound and the females
+tend to disappear. With generous quarters, the converse would not take
+place. I should obtain females and afterwards an equal number of males,
+confined in small cells which, in case of need, would be bounded by
+numerous partitions. The factor of space does not enter into the
+question here. What artifice can we then employ to provoke this second
+permutation? So far, I can think of nothing that is worth attempting.
+
+It is time to conclude. Leading a retired life, in the solitude of a
+village, having quite enough to do with patiently and obscurely
+ploughing my humble furrow, I know little about modern scientific
+views. In my young days I had a passionate longing for books and found
+it difficult to procure them; to-day, when I could almost have them if
+I wanted, I am ceasing to wish for them. It is what usually happens as
+life goes on. I do not therefore know what may have been done in the
+direction whither this study of the sexes has led me. If I am stating
+propositions that are really new or at least more comprehensive than
+the propositions already known, my words will perhaps sound heretical.
+No matter: as a simple translator of facts, I do not hesitate to make
+my statement, being fully persuaded that time will turn my heresy into
+orthodoxy. I will therefore recapitulate my conclusions.
+
+Bees lay their eggs in series of first females and then males, when the
+two sexes are of different sizes and demand an unequal quantity of
+nourishment. When the two sexes are alike in size, as in the case of
+Latreille's Osmia, the same sequence may occur, but less regularly.
+
+This dual arrangement disappears when the place chosen for the nest is
+not large enough to contain the entire laying. We then see broken
+layings, beginning with females and ending with males.
+
+The egg, as it issues from the ovary, has not yet a fixed sex. The
+final impress that produces the sex is given at the moment of laying,
+or a little before.
+
+So as to be able to give each larva the amount of space and food that
+suits it according as it is male or female, the mother can choose the
+sex of the egg which she is about to lay. To meet the conditions of the
+building, which is often the work of another or else a natural retreat
+that admits of little or no alteration, she lays either a male egg or a
+female egg AS SHE PLEASES. The distribution of the sexes depends upon
+herself. Should circumstances require it, the order of the laying can
+be reversed and begin with males; lastly, the entire laying can contain
+only one sex.
+
+The same privilege is possessed by the predatory Hymenoptera, the
+Wasps, at least by those in whom the two sexes are of a different size
+and consequently require an amount of nourishment that is larger in the
+one case than in the other. The mother must know the sex of the egg
+which she is going to lay; she must be able to choose the sex of that
+egg so that each larva may obtain its proper portion of food.
+
+Generally speaking, when the sexes are of different sizes, every insect
+that collects food and prepares or selects a dwelling for its offspring
+must be able to choose the sex of the egg in order to satisfy without
+mistake the conditions imposed upon it.
+
+The question remains how this optional assessment of the sexes is
+effected. I know absolutely nothing about it. If I should ever learn
+anything about this delicate point, I shall owe it to some happy chance
+for which I must wait, or rather watch, patiently.
+
+Then what explanation shall I give of the wonderful facts which I have
+set forth? Why, none, absolutely none. I do not explain facts, I relate
+them. Growing daily more sceptical of the interpretations suggested to
+me and more hesitating as to those which I myself may have to suggest,
+the more I observe and experiment, the more clearly I see rising out of
+the black mists of possibility an enormous note of interrogation.
+
+Dear insects, my study of you has sustained me and continues to sustain
+me in my heaviest trials; I must take leave of you for to-day. The
+ranks are thinning around me and the long hopes have fled. Shall I be
+able to speak of you again? (This forms the closing paragraph of Volume
+3 of the "Souvenirs entomologiques," of which the author lived to
+publish seven more volumes, containing over 2,500 pages and nearly
+850,000 words.--Translator's Note.)
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 13. THE GLOW-WORM.
+
+Few insects in our climes vie in popular fame with the Glow-worm, that
+curious little animal which, to celebrate the little joys of life,
+kindles a beacon at its tail-end. Who does not know it, at least by
+name? Who has not seen it roam amid the grass, like a spark fallen from
+the moon at its full? The Greeks of old called it lampouris, meaning,
+the bright-tailed. Science employs the same term: it calls it the
+lantern-bearer, Lampyris noctiluca, Lin. In this case the common name
+is inferior to the scientific phrase, which, when translated, becomes
+both expressive and accurate.
+
+In fact, we might easily cavil at the word "worm." The Lampyris is not
+a worm at all, not even in general appearance. He has six short legs,
+which he well knows how to use; he is a gad-about, a trot-about. In the
+adult state the male is correctly garbed in wing-cases, like the true
+Beetle that he is. The female is an ill-favoured thing who knows naught
+of the delights of flying: all her life long she retains the larval
+shape, which, for the rest, is similar to that of the male, who himself
+is imperfect so long as he has not achieved the maturity that comes
+with pairing-time. Even in this initial stage the word "worm" is out of
+place. We French have the expression "Naked as a worm" to point to the
+lack of any defensive covering. Now the Lampyris is clothed, that is to
+say, he wears an epidermis of some consistency; moreover, he is rather
+richly : his body is dark brown all over, set off with pale
+pink on the thorax, especially on the lower surface. Finally, each
+segment is decked at the hinder edge with two spots of a fairly bright
+red. A costume like this was never worn by a worm.
+
+Let us leave this ill-chosen denomination and ask ourselves what the
+Lampyris feeds upon. That master of the art of gastronomy,
+Brillat-Savarin, said: "Show me what you eat and I will tell you what
+you are."
+
+A similar question should be addressed, by way of a preliminary, to
+every insect whose habits we propose to study, for, from the least to
+the greatest in the zoological progression, the stomach sways the
+world; the data supplied by food are the chief of all the documents of
+life. Well, in spite of his innocent appearance, the Lampyris is an
+eater of flesh, a hunter of game; and he follows his calling with rare
+villainy. His regular prey is the Snail.
+
+This detail has long been known to entomologists. What is not so well
+known, what is not known at all yet, to judge by what I have read, is
+the curious method of attack, of which I have seen no other instance
+anywhere.
+
+Before he begins to feast, the Glow-worm administers an anaesthetic: he
+chloroforms his victim, rivalling in the process the wonders of our
+modern surgery, which renders the patient insensible before operating
+on him. The usual game is a small Snail hardly the size of a cherry,
+such as, for instance, Helix variabilis, Drap., who, in the hot
+weather, collects in clusters on the stiff stubble and other long, dry
+stalks by the road-side and there remains motionless, in profound
+meditation, throughout the scorching summer days. It is in some such
+resting-place as this that I have often been privileged to light upon
+the Lampyris banqueting on the prey which he had just paralysed on its
+shaky support by his surgical artifices.
+
+But he is familiar with other preserves. He frequents the edges of the
+irrigating ditches, with their cool soil, their varied vegetation, a
+favourite haunt of the Mollusc. Here, he treats the game on the ground;
+and, under these conditions, it is easy for me to rear him at home and
+to follow the operator's performance down to the smallest detail.
+
+I will try to make the reader a witness of the strange sight. I place a
+little grass in a wide glass jar. In this I instal a few Glow-worms and
+a provision of snails of a suitable size, neither too large nor too
+small, chiefly Helix variabilis. We must be patient and wait. Above
+all, we must keep an assiduous watch, for the desired events come
+unexpectedly and do not last long.
+
+Here we are at last. The Glow-worm for a moment investigates the prey,
+which, according to its habit, is wholly withdrawn in the shell, except
+the edge of the mantle, which projects slightly. Then the hunter's
+weapon is drawn, a very simple weapon, but one that cannot be plainly
+perceived without the aid of a lens. It consists of two mandibles bent
+back powerfully into a hook, very sharp and as thin as a hair. The
+microscope reveals the presence of a slender groove running throughout
+the length. And that is all.
+
+The insect repeatedly taps the Snail's mantle with its instrument. It
+all happens with such gentleness as to suggest kisses rather than
+bites. As children, teasing one another, we used to talk of "tweaksies"
+to express a slight squeeze of the finger-tips, something more like a
+tickling than a serious pinch. Let us use that word. In conversing with
+animals, language loses nothing by remaining juvenile. It is the right
+way for the simple to understand one another.
+
+The Lampyris doles out his tweaks. He distributes them methodically,
+without hurrying, and takes a brief rest after each of them, as though
+he wished to ascertain the effect produced. Their number is not great:
+half a dozen, at most, to subdue the prey and deprive it of all power
+of movement. That other pinches are administered later, at the time of
+eating, seems very likely, but I cannot say anything for certain,
+because the sequel escapes me. The first few, however--there are never
+many--are enough to impart inertia and loss of all feeling to the
+Mollusc, thanks to the prompt, I might almost say lightning, methods of
+the Lampyris, who, beyond a doubt, instils some poison or other by
+means of his grooved hooks.
+
+Here is the proof of the sudden efficacy of those twitches, so mild in
+appearance: I take the Snail from the Lampyris, who has operated on the
+edge of the mantle some four or five times. I prick him with a fine
+needle in the fore-part, which the animal, shrunk into its shell, still
+leaves exposed. There is no quiver of the wounded tissues, no reaction
+against the brutality of the needle. A corpse itself could not give
+fewer signs of life.
+
+Here is something even more conclusive: chance occasionally gives me
+Snails attacked by the Lampyris while they are creeping along, the foot
+slowly crawling, the tentacles swollen to their full extent. A few
+disordered movements betray a brief excitement on the part of the
+Mollusc and then everything ceases: the foot no longer slugs; the front
+part loses its graceful swan-neck curve; the tentacles become limp and
+give way under their own weight, dangling feebly like a broken stick.
+This condition persists.
+
+
+Is the Snail really dead? Not at all, for I can resuscitate the seeming
+corpse at will. After two or three days of that singular condition
+which is no longer life and yet not death, I isolate the patient and,
+though this is not really essential to success, I give him a douche
+which will represent the shower so dear to the able-bodied Mollusc. In
+about a couple of days, my prisoner, but lately injured by the
+Glow-worm's treachery, is restored to his normal state. He revives, in
+a manner; he recovers movement and sensibility. He is affected by the
+stimulus of a needle; he shifts his place, crawls, puts out his
+tentacles, as though nothing unusual had occurred. The general torpor,
+a sort of deep drunkenness, has vanished outright. The dead returns to
+life. What name shall we give to that form of existence which, for a
+time, abolishes the power of movement and the sense of pain? I can see
+but one that is approximately suitable: anaesthesia. The exploits of a
+host of Wasps whose flesh-eating grubs are provided with meat that is
+motionless though not dead have taught us the skilful art of the
+paralysing insect, which numbs the locomotory nerve-centres with its
+venom. We have now a humble little animal that first produces complete
+anaesthesia in its patient. Human science did not in reality invent
+this art, which is one of the wonders of latter-day surgery. Much
+earlier, far back in the centuries, the Lampyris and, apparently,
+others knew it as well. The animal's knowledge had a long start of
+ours; the method alone has changed. Our operators proceed by making us
+inhale the fumes of ether or chloroform; the insect proceeds by
+injecting a special virus that comes from the mandibular fangs in
+infinitesimal doses. Might we not one day be able to benefit from this
+hint? What glorious discoveries the future would have in store for us,
+if we understood the beastie's secrets better!
+
+What does the Lampyris want with anaesthetical talent against a
+harmless and moreover eminently peaceful adversary, who would never
+begin the quarrel of his own accord? I think I see. We find in Algeria
+a beetle known as Drilus maroccanus, who, though non-luminous,
+approaches our Glow-worm in his organization and especially in his
+habits. He, too, feeds on Land Molluscs. His prey is a Cyclostome with
+a graceful spiral shell, tightly closed with a stony lid which is
+attached to the animal by a powerful muscle. The lid is a movable door
+which is quickly shut by the inmate's mere withdrawal into his house
+and as easily opened when the hermit goes forth. With this system of
+closing, the abode becomes inviolable; and the Drilus knows it.
+
+Fixed to the surface of the shell by an adhesive apparatus whereof the
+Lampyris will presently show us the equivalent, he remains on the
+look-out, waiting, if necessary, for whole days at a time. At last the
+need of air and food obliges the besieged non-combatant to show
+himself: at least, the door is set slightly ajar. That is enough. The
+Drilus is on the spot and strikes his blow. The door can no longer be
+closed; and the assailant is henceforth master of the fortress. Our
+first impression is that the muscle moving the lid has been cut with a
+quick-acting pair of shears. This idea must be dismissed. The Drilus is
+not well enough equipped with jaws to gnaw through a fleshy mass so
+promptly. The operation has to succeed at once, at the first touch: if
+not, the animal attacked would retreat, still in full vigour, and the
+siege must be recommenced, as arduous as ever, exposing the insect to
+fasts indefinitely prolonged. Although I have never come across the
+Drilus, who is a stranger to my district, I conjecture a method of
+attack very similar to that of the Glow-worm. Like our own Snail-eater,
+the Algerian insect does not cut its victim into small pieces: it
+renders it inert, chloroforms it by means of a few tweaks which are
+easily distributed, if the lid but half-opens for a second. That will
+do. The besieger thereupon enters and, in perfect quiet, consumes a
+prey incapable of the least muscular effort. That is how I see things
+by the unaided light of logic.
+
+Let us now return to the Glow-worm. When the Snail is on the ground,
+creeping, or even shrunk into his shell, the attack never presents any
+difficulty. The shell possesses no lid and leaves the hermit's
+fore-part to a great extent exposed. Here, on the edges of the mantle,
+contracted by the fear of danger, the Mollusc is vulnerable and
+incapable of defence. But it also frequently happens that the Snail
+occupies a raised position, clinging to the tip of a grass-stalk or
+perhaps to the smooth surface of a stone. This support serves him as a
+temporary lid; it wards off the aggression of any churl who might try
+to molest the inhabitant of the cabin, always on the express condition
+that no slit show itself anywhere on the protecting circumference. If,
+on the other hand, in the frequent case when the shell does not fit its
+support quite closely, some point, however tiny, be left uncovered,
+this is enough for the subtle tools of the Lampyris, who just nibbles
+at the Mollusc and at once plunges him into that profound immobility
+which favours the tranquil proceedings of the consumer.
+
+These proceedings are marked by extreme prudence. The assailant has to
+handle his victim gingerly, without provoking contractions which would
+make the Snail let go his support and, at the very least, precipitate
+him from the tall stalk whereon he is blissfully slumbering. Now any
+game falling to the ground would seem to be so much sheer loss, for the
+Glow-worm has no great zeal for hunting-expeditions: he profits by the
+discoveries which good luck sends him, without undertaking assiduous
+searches. It is essential, therefore, that the equilibrium of a prize
+perched on the top of a stalk and only just held in position by a touch
+of glue should be disturbed as little as possible during the onslaught;
+it is necessary that the assailant should go to work with infinite
+circumspection and without producing pain, lest any muscular reaction
+should provoke a fall and endanger the prize. As we see, sudden and
+profound anaesthesia is an excellent means of enabling the Lampyris to
+attain his object, which is to consume his prey in perfect quiet.
+
+What is his manner of consuming it? Does he really eat, that is to say,
+does he divide his food piecemeal, does he carve it into minute
+particles, which are afterwards ground by a chewing-apparatus? I think
+not. I never see a trace of solid nourishment on my captives' mouths.
+The Glow-worm does not eat in the strict sense of the word: he drinks
+his fill; he feeds on a thin gruel into which he transforms his prey by
+a method recalling that of the maggot. Like the flesh-eating grub of
+the Fly, he too is able to digest before consuming; he liquefies his
+prey before feeding on it.
+
+This is how things happen: a Snail has been rendered insensible by the
+Glow-worm. The operator is nearly always alone, even when the prize is
+a large one, like the common Snail, Helix aspersa. Soon a number of
+guests hasten up--two, three, or more--and, without any quarrel with
+the real proprietor, all alike fall to. Let us leave them to themselves
+for a couple of days and then turn the shell, with the opening
+downwards. The contents flow out as easily as would soup from an
+overturned saucepan. When the sated diners retire from this gruel, only
+insignificant leavings remain.
+
+The matter is obvious. By repeated tiny bites, similar to the tweaks
+which we saw distributed at the outset, the flesh of the Mollusc is
+converted into a gruel on which the various banqueters nourish
+themselves without distinction, each working at the broth by means of
+some special pepsine and each taking his own mouthfuls of it. In
+consequence of this method, which first converts the food into a
+liquid, the Glow-worm's mouth must be very feebly armed apart from the
+two fangs which sting the patient and inject the anaesthetic poison and
+at the same time, no doubt, the serum capable of turning the solid
+flesh into fluid. Those two tiny implements, which can just be examined
+through the lens, must, it seems, have some other object. They are
+hollow, and in this resemble those of the Ant-lion, who sucks and
+drains her capture without having to divide it; but there is this great
+difference, that the Ant-lion leaves copious remnants, which are
+afterwards flung outside the funnel-shaped trap dug in the sand,
+whereas the Glow-worm, that expert liquifier, leaves nothing, or next
+to nothing. With similar tools, the one simply sucks the blood of his
+prey and the other turns every morsel of his to account, thanks to a
+preliminary liquefaction.
+
+And this is done with exquisite precision, though the equilibrium is
+sometimes anything but steady. My rearing-glasses supply me with
+magnificent examples. Crawling up the sides, the Snails imprisoned in
+my apparatus sometimes reach the top, which is closed with a glass
+pane, and fix themselves to it with a speck of glair. This is a mere
+temporary halt, in which the Mollusc is miserly with his adhesive
+product, and the merest shake is enough to loosen the shell and send it
+to the bottom of the jar.
+
+Now it is not unusual for the Glow-worm to hoist himself up there, with
+the help of a certain climbing-organ that makes up for his weak legs.
+He selects his quarry, makes a minute inspection of it to find an
+entrance-slit, nibbles at it a little, renders it insensible and,
+without delay, proceeds to prepare the gruel which he will consume for
+days on end.
+
+When he leaves the table, the shell is found to be absolutely empty;
+and yet this shell, which was fixed to the glass by a very faint
+stickiness, has not come loose, has not even shifted its position in
+the smallest degree: without any protest from the hermit gradually
+converted into broth, it has been drained on the very spot at which the
+first attack was delivered. These small details tell us how promptly
+the anaesthetic bite takes effect; they teach us how dexterously the
+Glow-worm treats his Snail without causing him to fall from a very
+slippery, vertical support and without even shaking him on his slight
+line of adhesion.
+
+Under these conditions of equilibrium, the operator's short, clumsy
+legs are obviously not enough; a special accessory apparatus is needed
+to defy the danger of slipping and to seize the unseizable. And this
+apparatus the Lampyris possesses. At the hinder end of the animal we
+see a white spot which the lens separates into some dozen short, fleshy
+appendages, sometimes gathered into a cluster, sometimes spread into a
+rosette. There is your organ of adhesion and locomotion. If he would
+fix himself somewhere, even on a very smooth surface, such as a
+grass-stalk, the Glow-worm opens his rosette and spreads it wide on the
+support, to which it adheres by its own stickiness. The same organ,
+rising and falling, opening and closing, does much to assist the act of
+progression. In short, the Glow-worm is a new sort of self-propelled
+<DW36>, who decks his hind-quarters with a dainty white rose, a kind
+of hand with twelve fingers, not jointed, but moving in every
+direction: tubular fingers which do not seize, but stick.
+
+
+The same organ serves another purpose: that of a toilet-sponge and
+brush. At a moment of rest, after a meal, the Glow-worm passes and
+repasses the said brush over his head, back, sides and hinder parts, a
+performance made possible by the flexibility of his spine. This is done
+point by point, from one end of the body to the other, with a
+scrupulous persistency that proves the great interest which he takes in
+the operation. What is his object in thus sponging himself, in dusting
+and polishing himself so carefully? It is a question, apparently, of
+removing a few atoms of dust or else some traces of viscidity that
+remain from the evil contact with the Snail. A wash and brush-up is not
+superfluous when one leaves the tub in which the Mollusc has been
+treated.
+
+If the Glow-worm possessed no other talent than that of chloroforming
+his prey by means of a few tweaks resembling kisses, he would be
+unknown to the vulgar herd; but he also knows how to light himself like
+a beacon; he shines, which is an excellent manner of achieving fame.
+Let us consider more particularly the female, who, while retaining her
+larval shape, becomes marriageable and glows at her best during the
+hottest part of summer. The lighting-apparatus occupies the last three
+segments of the abdomen. On each of the first two it takes the form, on
+the ventral surface, of a wide belt covering almost the whole of the
+arch; on the third the luminous part is much less and consists simply
+of two small crescent-shaped markings, or rather two spots which shine
+through to the back and are visible both above and below the animal.
+Belts and spots emit a glorious white light, delicately tinged with
+blue. The general lighting of the Glow-worm thus comprises two groups:
+first, the wide belts of the two segments preceding the last; secondly,
+the two spots of the final segments. The two belts, the exclusive
+attribute of the marriageable female, are the parts richest in light:
+to glorify her wedding, the future mother dons her brightest gauds; she
+lights her two resplendent scarves. But, before that, from the time of
+the hatching, she had only the modest rush-light of the stern. This
+efflorescence of light is the equivalent of the final metamorphosis,
+which is usually represented by the gift of wings and flight. Its
+brilliance heralds the pairing-time. Wings and flight there will be
+none: the female retains her humble larval form, but she kindles her
+blazing beacon.
+
+The male, on his side, is fully transformed, changes his shape,
+acquires wings and wing-cases; nevertheless, like the female, he
+possesses, from the time when he is hatched, the pale lamp of the end
+segment. This luminous aspect of the stern is characteristic of the
+entire Glow-worm tribe, independently of sex and season. It appears
+upon the budding grub and continues throughout life unchanged. And we
+must not forget to add that it is visible on the dorsal as well as on
+the ventral surface, whereas the two large belts peculiar to the female
+shine only under the abdomen.
+
+My hand is not so steady nor my sight so good as once they were; but,
+as far as they allow me, I consult anatomy for the structure of the
+luminous organs. I take a scrap of the epidermis and manage to separate
+pretty nearly half of one of the shining belts. I place my preparation
+under the microscope. On the skin a sort of white-wash lies spread,
+formed of a very fine, granular substance. This is certainly the
+light-producing matter. To examine this white layer more closely is
+beyond the power of my weary eyes. Just beside it is a curious
+air-tube, whose short and remarkably wide stem branches suddenly into a
+sort of bushy tuft of very delicate ramifications. These creep over the
+luminous sheet, or even dip into it. That is all.
+
+The luminescence, therefore, is controlled by the respiratory organs
+and the work produced is an oxidation. The white sheet supplies the
+oxidizable matter and the thick air-tube spreading into a tufty bush
+distributes the flow of air over it. There remains the question of the
+substance whereof this sheet is formed. The first suggestion was
+phosphorus, in the chemist's sense of the word. The Glow-worm was
+calcined and treated with the violent reagents that bring the simple
+substances to light; but no one, so far as I know, has obtained a
+satisfactory answer along these lines. Phosphorus seems to play no part
+here, in spite of the name of phosphorescence which is sometimes
+bestowed upon the Glow-worm's gleam. The answer lies elsewhere, no one
+knows where.
+
+We are better-informed as regards another question. Has the Glow-worm a
+free control of the light which he emits? Can he turn it on or down or
+put it out as he pleases? Has he an opaque screen which is drawn over
+the flame at will, or is that flame always left exposed? There is no
+need for any such mechanism: the insect has something better for its
+revolving light.
+
+The thick air-tube supplying the light-producing sheet increases the
+flow of air and the light is intensified; the same tube, swayed by the
+animal's will, slackens or even suspends the passage of air and the
+light grows fainter or even goes out. It is, in short, the mechanism of
+a lamp which is regulated by the access of air to the wick.
+
+Excitement can set the attendant air-duct in motion. We must here
+distinguish between two cases: that of the gorgeous scarves, the
+exclusive ornament of the female ripe for matrimony, and that of the
+modest fairy-lamp on the last segment, which both sexes kindle at any
+age. In the second case, the extinction caused by a flurry is sudden
+and complete, or nearly so. In my nocturnal hunts for young Glow-worms,
+measuring about 5 millimetres long (.195 inch.--Translator's Note.), I
+can plainly see the glimmer on the blades of grass; but, should the
+least false step disturb a neighbouring twig, the light goes out at
+once and the coveted insect becomes invisible. Upon the full-grown
+females, lit up with their nuptial scarves, even a violent start has
+but a slight effect and often none at all.
+
+I fire a gun beside a wire-gauze cage in which I am rearing my
+menagerie of females in the open air. The explosion produces no result.
+The illumination continues, as bright and placid as before. I take a
+spray and rain down a slight shower of cold water upon the flock. Not
+one of my animals puts out its light; at the very most, there is a
+brief pause in the radiance; and then only in some cases. I send a puff
+of smoke from my pipe into the cage. This time the pause is more
+marked. There are even some extinctions, but these do not last long.
+Calm soon returns and the light is renewed as brightly as ever. I take
+some of the captives in my fingers, turn and return them, tease them a
+little. The illumination continues and is not much diminished, if I do
+not press hard with my thumb. At this period, with the pairing close at
+hand, the insect is in all the fervour of its passionate splendour, and
+nothing short of very serious reasons would make it put out its signals
+altogether.
+
+All things considered, there is not a doubt but that the Glow-worm
+himself manages his lighting apparatus, extinguishing and rekindling it
+at will; but there is one point at which the voluntary agency of the
+insect is without effect. I detach a strip of the epidermis showing one
+of the luminescent sheets and place it in a glass tube, which I close
+with a plug of damp wadding, to avoid an over-rapid evaporation. Well,
+this scrap of carcass shines away merrily, although not quite as
+brilliantly as on the living body.
+
+Life's aid is now superfluous. The oxidizable substance, the
+luminescent sheet, is in direct communication with the surrounding
+atmosphere; the flow of oxygen through an air-tube is not necessary;
+and the luminous emission continues to take place, in the same way as
+when it is produced by the contact of the air with the real phosphorus
+of the chemists. Let us add that, in aerated water, the luminousness
+continues as brilliant as in the free air, but that it is extinguished
+in water deprived of its air by boiling. No better proof could be found
+of what I have already propounded, namely, that the Glow-worm's light
+is the effect of a slow oxidation.
+
+The light is white, calm and soft to the eyes and suggests a spark
+dropped by the full moon. Despite its splendour, it is a very feeble
+illuminant. If we move a Glow-worm along a line of print, in perfect
+darkness, we can easily make out the letters, one by one, and even
+words, when these are not too long; but nothing more is visible beyond
+a narrow zone. A lantern of this kind soon tires the reader's patience.
+
+Suppose a group of Glow-worms placed almost touching one another. Each
+of them sheds its glimmer, which ought, one would think, to light up
+its neighbours by reflexion and give us a clear view of each individual
+specimen. But not at all: the luminous party is a chaos in which our
+eyes are unable to distinguish any definite form at a medium distance.
+The collective lights confuse the light-bearers into one vague whole.
+
+Photography gives us a striking proof of this. I have a score of
+females, all at the height of their splendour, in a wire-gauze cage in
+the open air. A tuft of thyme forms a grove in the centre of their
+establishment. When night comes, my captives clamber to this pinnacle
+and strive to show off their luminous charms to the best advantage at
+every point of the horizon, thus forming along the twigs marvellous
+clusters from which I expected magnificent effects on the
+photographer's plates and paper. My hopes were disappointed. All that I
+obtain is white, shapeless patches, denser here and less dense there
+according to the numbers forming the group. There is no picture of the
+Glow-worms themselves; not a trace either of the tuft of thyme. For
+want of satisfactory light, the glorious firework is represented by a
+blurred splash of white on a black ground.
+
+The beacons of the female Glow-worms are evidently nuptial signals,
+invitations to the pairing; but observe that they are lighted on the
+lower surface of the abdomen and face the ground, whereas the summoned
+males, whose flights are sudden and uncertain, travel overhead, in the
+air, sometimes a great way up. In its normal position, therefore, the
+glittering lure is concealed from the eyes of those concerned; it is
+covered by the thick bulk of the bride. The lantern ought really to
+gleam on the back and not under the belly; otherwise the light is
+hidden under a bushel.
+
+The anomaly is corrected in a very ingenious fashion, for every female
+has her little wiles of coquetry. At nightfall, every evening, my caged
+captives make for the tuft of thyme with which I have thoughtfully
+furnished the prison and climb to the top of the upper branches, those
+most in sight. Here, instead of keeping quiet, as they did at the foot
+of the bush just now, they indulge in violent exercises, twist the tip
+of their very flexible abdomen, turn it to one side, turn it to the
+other, jerk it in every direction. In this way, the searchlight cannot
+fail to gleam, at one moment or another, before the eyes of every male
+who goes a-wooing in the neighbourhood, whether on the ground or in the
+air.
+
+It is very like the working of the revolving mirror used in catching
+Larks. If stationary, the little contrivance would leave the bird
+indifferent; turning and breaking up its light in rapid flashes, it
+excites it.
+
+While the female Glow-worm has her tricks for summoning her swains, the
+male, on his side, is provided with an optical apparatus suited to
+catch from afar the least reflection of the calling signal. His
+corselet expands into a shield and overlaps his head considerably in
+the form of a peaked cap or a shade, the object of which appears to be
+to limit the field of vision and concentrate the view upon the luminous
+speck to be discerned. Under this arch are the two eyes, which are
+relatively enormous, exceedingly convex, shaped like a skull-cap and
+contiguous to the extent of leaving only a narrow groove for the
+insertion of the antennae. This double eye, occupying almost the whole
+face of the insect and contained in the cavern formed by the spreading
+peak of the corselet, is a regular Cyclops' eye.
+
+At the moment of the pairing the illumination becomes much fainter, is
+almost extinguished; all that remains alight is the humble fairy-lamp
+of the last segment. This discreet night-light is enough for the
+wedding, while, all around, the host of nocturnal insects, lingering
+over their respective affairs, murmur the universal marriage-hymn. The
+laying follows very soon. The round, white eggs are laid, or rather
+strewn at random, without the least care on the mother's part, either
+on the more or less cool earth or on a blade of grass. These brilliant
+ones know nothing at all of family affection.
+
+Here is a very singular thing: the Glow-worm's eggs are luminous even
+when still contained in the mother's womb. If I happen by accident to
+crush a female big with germs that have reached maturity, a shiny
+streak runs along my fingers, as though I had broken some vessel filled
+with a phosphorescent fluid. The lens shows me that I am wrong. The
+luminosity comes from the cluster of eggs forced out of the ovary.
+Besides, as laying-time approaches, the phosphorescence of the eggs is
+already made manifest through this clumsy midwifery. A soft opalescent
+light shines through the integument of the belly.
+
+The hatching follows soon after the laying. The young of either sex
+have two little rush-lights on the last segment. At the approach of the
+severe weather they go down into the ground, but not very far. In my
+rearing-jars, which are supplied with fine and very loose earth, they
+descend to a depth of three or four inches at most. I dig up a few in
+mid-winter. I always find them carrying their faint stern-light. About
+the month of April they come up again to the surface, there to continue
+and complete their evolution.
+
+From start to finish the Glow-worm's life is one great orgy of light.
+The eggs are luminous; the grubs likewise. The full-grown females are
+magnificent lighthouses, the adult males retain the glimmer which the
+grubs already possessed. We can understand the object of the feminine
+beacon; but of what use is all the rest of the pyrotechnic display? To
+my great regret, I cannot tell. It is and will be, for many a day to
+come, perhaps for all time, the secret of animal physics, which is
+deeper than the physics of the books.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER 14. THE CABBAGE-CATERPILLAR.
+
+The cabbage of our modern kitchen-gardens is a semi-artificial plant,
+the produce of our agricultural ingenuity quite as much as of the
+niggardly gifts of nature. Spontaneous vegetation supplied us with the
+long-stalked, scanty-leaved, ill-smelling wilding, as found, according
+to the botanists, on the ocean cliffs. He had need of a rare
+inspiration who first showed faith in this rustic clown and proposed to
+improve it in his garden-patch.
+
+Progressing by infinitesimal degrees, culture wrought miracles. It
+began by persuading the wild cabbage to discard its wretched leaves,
+beaten by the sea-winds, and to replace them by others, ample and
+fleshy and close-fitting. The gentle cabbage submitted without protest.
+It deprived itself of the joys of light by arranging its leaves in a
+large compact head, white and tender. In our day, among the successors
+of those first tiny hearts, are some that, by virtue of their massive
+bulk, have earned the glorious name of chou quintal, as who should say
+a hundredweight of cabbage. They are real monuments of green stuff.
+
+Later, man thought of obtaining a generous dish with a thousand little
+sprays of the inflorescence. The cabbage consented. Under the cover of
+the central leaves, it gorged with food its sheaves of blossom, its
+flower-stalks, its branches and worked the lot into a fleshy
+conglomeration. This is the cauliflower, the broccoli.
+
+Differently entreated, the plant, economizing in the centre of its
+shoot, set a whole family of close-wrapped cabbages ladder-wise on a
+tall stem. A multitude of dwarf leaf-buds took the place of the
+colossal head. This is the Brussels sprout.
+
+Next comes the turn of the stump, an unprofitable, almost wooden,
+thing, which seemed never to have any other purpose than to act as a
+support for the plant. But the tricks of gardeners are capable of
+everything, so much so that the stalk yields to the grower's
+suggestions and becomes fleshy and swells into an ellipse similar to
+the turnip, of which it possesses all the merits of corpulence, flavour
+and delicacy; only the strange product serves as a base for a few
+sparse leaves, the last protests of a real stem that refuses to lose
+its attributes entirely. This is the cole-rape.
+
+If the stem allows itself to be allured, why not the root? It does, in
+fact, yield to the blandishments of agriculture: it dilates its pivot
+into a flat turnip, which half emerges from the ground. This is the
+rutabaga, or swede, the turnip-cabbage of our northern districts.
+
+Incomparably docile under our nursing, the cabbage has given its all
+for our nourishment and that of our cattle: its leaves, its flowers,
+its buds, its stalk, its root; all that it now wants is to combine the
+ornamental with the useful, to smarten itself, to adorn our flowerbeds
+and cut a good figure on a drawing-room table. It has done this to
+perfection, not with its flowers, which, in their modesty, continue
+intractable, but with its curly and variegated leaves, which have the
+undulating grace of Ostrich-feathers and the rich colouring of a mixed
+bouquet. None who beholds it in this magnificence will recognize the
+near relation of the vulgar "greens" that form the basis of our
+cabbage-soup.
+
+The cabbage, first in order of date in our kitchen-gardens, was held in
+high esteem by classic antiquity, next after the bean and, later, the
+pea; but it goes much farther back, so far indeed that no memories of
+its acquisition remain. History pays but little attention to these
+details: it celebrates the battle-fields whereon we meet our death, but
+scorns to speak of the ploughed fields whereby we thrive; it knows the
+names of the kings' bastards, but cannot tell us the origin of wheat.
+That is the way of human folly.
+
+This silence respecting the precious plants that serve as food is most
+regrettable. The cabbage in particular, the venerable cabbage, that
+denizen of the most ancient garden-plots, would have had extremely
+interesting things to teach us. It is a treasure in itself, but a
+treasure twice exploited, first by man and next by the caterpillar of
+the Pieris, the common Large White Butterfly whom we all know (Pieris
+brassicae, Lin.). This caterpillar feeds indiscriminately on the leaves
+of all varieties of cabbage, however dissimilar in appearance: he
+nibbles with the same appetite red cabbage and broccoli, curly greens
+and savoy, swedes and turnip-tops, in short, all that our ingenuity,
+lavish of time and patience, has been able to obtain from the original
+plant since the most distant ages.
+
+But what did the caterpillar eat before our cabbages supplied him with
+copious provender? Obviously the Pieris did not wait for the advent of
+man and his horticultural works in order to take part in the joys of
+life. She lived without us and would have continued to live without us.
+A Butterfly's existence is not subject to ours, but rightfully
+independent of our aid.
+
+Before the white-heart, the cauliflower, the savoy and the others were
+invented, the Pieris' caterpillar certainly did not lack food: he
+browsed on the wild cabbage of the cliffs, the parent of all the
+latter-day wealth; but, as this plant is not widely distributed and is,
+in any case, limited to certain maritime regions, the welfare of the
+Butterfly, whether on plain or hill, demanded a more luxuriant and more
+common plant for pasturage. This plant was apparently one of the
+Cruciferae, more or less seasoned with sulpheretted essence, like the
+cabbages. Let us experiment on these lines.
+
+I rear the Pieris' caterpillars from the egg upwards on the wall-rocket
+(Diplotaxis tenuifolia, Dec.), which imbibes strong spices along the
+edge of the paths and at the foot of the walls. Penned in a large
+wire-gauze bell-cage, they accept this provender without demur; they
+nibble it with the same appetite as if it were cabbage; and they end by
+producing chrysalids and Butterflies. The change of fare causes not the
+least trouble.
+
+I am equally successful with other crucifers of a less marked flavour:
+white mustard (Sinapis incana, Lin.), dyer's woad (Isatis tinctoria,
+Lin.), wild radish (Raphanus raphanistrum, Lin.), whitlow pepperwort
+(Lepidium draba, Lin.), hedge-mustard (Sisymbrium officinale, Scop.).
+On the other hand, the leaves of the lettuce, the bean, the pea, the
+corn-salad are obstinately refused. Let us be content with what we have
+seen: the fare has been sufficiently varied to show us that the
+cabbage-caterpillar feeds exclusively on a large number of crucifers,
+perhaps even on all.
+
+As these experiments are made in the enclosure of a bell-cage, one
+might imagine that captivity impels the flock to feed, in the absence
+of better things, on what it would refuse were it free to hunt for
+itself. Having naught else within their reach, the starvelings consume
+any and all Cruciferae, without distinction of species. Can things
+sometimes be the same in the open fields, where I play none of my
+tricks? Can the family of the White Butterfly be settled on other
+Crucifers than the cabbage? I start a quest along the paths near the
+gardens and end by finding on wild radish and white mustard colonies as
+crowded and prosperous as those established on cabbage.
+
+Now, except when the metamorphosis is at hand, the caterpillar of the
+White Butterfly never travels: he does all his growing on the identical
+plant whereon he saw the light. The caterpillars observed on the wild
+radish, as well as other households, are not, therefore, emigrants who
+have come as a matter of fancy from some cabbage-patch in the
+neighbourhood: they have hatched on the very leaves where I find them.
+Hence I arrive at this conclusion: the White Butterfly, who is fitful
+in her flight, chooses cabbage first, to dab her eggs upon, and
+different Cruciferae next, varying greatly in appearance.
+
+How does the Pieris manage to know her way about her botanical domain?
+We have seen the Larini (A species of Weevils found on
+thistle-heads.--Translator's Note.), those explorers of fleshy
+receptacles with an artichoke flavour, astonish us with their knowledge
+of the flora of the thistle tribe; but their lore might, at a pinch, be
+explained by the method followed at the moment of housing the egg. With
+their rostrum, they prepare niches and dig out basins in the receptacle
+exploited and consequently they taste the thing a little before
+entrusting their eggs to it. On the other hand, the Butterfly, a
+nectar-drinker, makes not the least enquiry into the savoury qualities
+of the leafage; at most dipping her proboscis into the flowers, she
+abstracts a mouthful of syrup. This means of investigation, moreover,
+would be of no use to her, for the plant selected for the establishing
+of her family is, for the most part, not yet in flower. The mother
+flits for a moment around the plant; and that swift examination is
+enough: the emission of eggs takes place if the provender be found
+suitable.
+
+The botanist, to recognize a crucifer, requires the indication provided
+by the flower. Here the Pieris surpasses us. She does not consult the
+seed-vessel, to see if it be long or short, nor yet the petals, four in
+number and arranged in a cross, because the plant, as a rule, is not in
+flower; and still she recognizes offhand what suits her caterpillars,
+in spite of profound differences that would embarrass any but a
+botanical expert.
+
+Unless the Pieris has an innate power of discrimination to guide her,
+it is impossible to understand the great extent of her vegetable realm.
+She needs for her family Cruciferae, nothing but Cruciferae; and she
+knows this group of plants to perfection. I have been an enthusiastic
+botanist for half a century and more. Nevertheless, to discover if this
+or that plant, new to me, is or is not one of the Cruciferae, in the
+absence of flowers and fruits I should have more faith in the
+Butterfly's statements than in all the learned records of the books.
+Where science is apt to make mistakes instinct is infallible.
+
+The Pieris has two families a year: one in April and May, the other in
+September. The cabbage-patches are renewed in those same months. The
+Butterfly's calendar tallies with the gardener's: the moment that
+provisions are in sight, consumers are forthcoming for the feast.
+
+The eggs are a bright orange-yellow and do not lack prettiness when
+examined under the lens. They are blunted cones, ranged side by side on
+their round base and adorned with finely-scored longitudinal ridges.
+They are collected in slabs, sometimes on the upper surface, when the
+leaf that serves as a support is spread wide, sometimes on the lower
+surface when the leaf is pressed to the next ones. Their number varies
+considerably. Slabs of a couple of hundred are pretty frequent;
+isolated eggs, or eggs collected in small groups, are, on the contrary,
+rare. The mother's output is affected by the degree of quietness at the
+moment of laying.
+
+The outer circumference of the group is irregularly formed, but the
+inside presents a certain order. The eggs are here arranged in straight
+rows backing against one another in such a way that each egg finds a
+double support in the preceding row. This alternation, without being of
+an irreproachable precision, gives a fairly stable equilibrium to the
+whole.
+
+To see the mother at her laying is no easy matter: when examined too
+closely, the Pieris decamps at once. The structure of the work,
+however, reveals the order of the operations pretty clearly. The
+ovipositor swings slowly first in this direction, then in that, by
+turns; and a new egg is lodged in each space between two adjoining eggs
+in the previous row. The extent of the oscillation determines the
+length of the row, which is longer or shorter according to the layer's
+fancy.
+
+The hatching takes place in about a week. It is almost simultaneous for
+the whole mass: as soon as one caterpillar comes out of its egg, the
+others come out also, as though the natal impulse were communicated
+from one to the other. In the same way, in the nest of the Praying
+Mantis, a warning seems to be spread abroad, arousing every one of the
+population. It is a wave propagated in all directions from the point
+first struck.
+
+The egg does not open by means of a dehiscence similar to that of the
+vegetable-pods whose seeds have attained maturity; it is the new-born
+grub itself that contrives an exit-way by gnawing a hole in its
+enclosure. In this manner, it obtains near the top of the cone a
+symmetrical dormer-window, clean-edged, with no joins nor unevenness of
+any kind, showing that this part of the wall has been nibbled away and
+swallowed. But for this breach, which is just wide enough for the
+deliverance, the egg remains intact, standing firmly on its base. It is
+now that the lens is best able to take in its elegant structure. What
+it sees is a bag made of ultra-fine gold-beater's skin, translucent,
+stiff and white, retaining the complete form of the original egg. A
+score of streaked and knotted lines run from the top to the base. It is
+the wizard's pointed cap, the mitre with the grooves carved into
+jewelled chaplets. All said, the Cabbage-caterpillar's birth-casket is
+an exquisite work of art.
+
+The hatching of the lot is finished in a couple of hours and the
+swarming family musters on the layer of swaddling-clothes, still in the
+same position. For a long time, before descending to the fostering
+leaf, it lingers on this kind of hot-bed, is even very busy there. Busy
+with what? It is browsing a strange kind of grass, the handsome mitres
+that remain standing on end. Slowly and methodically, from top to base,
+the new-born grubs nibble the wallets whence they have just emerged. By
+to-morrow, nothing is left of these but a pattern of round dots, the
+bases of the vanished sacks.
+
+As his first mouthfuls, therefore, the Cabbage-caterpillar eats the
+membranous wrapper of his egg. This is a regulation diet, for I have
+never seen one of the little grubs allow itself to be tempted by the
+adjacent green stuff before finishing the ritual repast whereat skin
+bottles furnish forth the feast. It is the first time that I have seen
+a larva make a meal of the sack in which it was born. Of what use can
+this singular fare be to the budding caterpillar? I suspect as follows:
+the leaves of the cabbage are waxed and slippery surfaces and nearly
+always slant considerably. To graze on them without risking a fall,
+which would be fatal in earliest childhood, is hardly possible unless
+with moorings that afford a steady support. What is needed is bits of
+silk stretched along the road as fast as progress is made, something
+for the legs to grip, something to provide a good anchorage even when
+the grub is upside down. The silk-tubes, where those moorings are
+manufactured, must be very scantily supplied in a tiny, new-born
+animal; and it is expedient that they be filled without delay with the
+aid of a special form of nourishment. Then what shall the nature of the
+first food be? Vegetable matter, slow to elaborate and niggardly in its
+yield, does not fulfil the desired conditions at all well, for time
+presses and we must trust ourselves safely to the slippery leaf. An
+animal diet would be preferable: it is easier to digest and undergoes
+chemical changes in a shorter time. The wrapper of the egg is of a
+horny nature, as silk itself is. It will not take long to transform the
+one into the other. The grub therefore tackles the remains of its egg
+and turns it into silk to carry with it on its first journeys.
+
+If my surmise is well-founded, there is reason to believe that, with a
+view to speedily filling the silk-glands to which they look to supply
+them with ropes, other caterpillars beginning their existence on smooth
+and steeply-slanting leaves also take as their first mouthful the
+membranous sack which is all that remains of the egg.
+
+The whole of the platform of birth-sacks which was the first
+camping-ground of the White Butterfly's family is razed to the ground;
+naught remains but the round marks of the individual pieces that
+composed it. The structure of piles has disappeared; the prints left by
+the piles remain. The little caterpillars are now on the level of the
+leaf which shall henceforth feed them. They are a pale orange-yellow,
+with a sprinkling of white bristles. The head is a shiny black and
+remarkably powerful; it already gives signs of the coming gluttony. The
+little animal measures scarcely two millimetres in length. (.078
+inch.--Translator's Note.)
+
+The troop begins its steadying-work as soon as it comes into contact
+with its pasturage, the green cabbage-leaf. Here, there, in its
+immediate neighbourhood, each grub emits from its spinning glands short
+cables so slender that it takes an attentive lens to catch a glimpse of
+them. This is enough to ensure the equilibrium of the almost
+imponderable atom.
+
+The vegetarian meal now begins. The grub's length promptly increases
+from two millimetres to four. Soon, a moult takes place which alters
+its costume: its skin becomes speckled, on a pale-yellow ground, with a
+number of black dots intermingled with white bristles. Three or four
+days of rest are necessary after the fatigue of breaking cover. When
+this is over, the hunger-fit starts that will make a ruin of the
+cabbage within a few weeks.
+
+What an appetite! What a stomach, working continuously day and night!
+It is a devouring laboratory, through which the foodstuffs merely pass,
+transformed at once. I serve up to my caged herd a bunch of leaves
+picked from among the biggest: two hours later, nothing remains but the
+thick midribs; and even these are attacked when there is any delay in
+renewing the victuals. At this rate a "hundredweight-cabbage," doled
+out leaf by leaf, would not last my menagerie a week.
+
+The gluttonous animal, therefore, when it swarms and multiplies, is a
+scourge. How are we to protect our gardens against it? In the days of
+Pliny, the great Latin naturalist, a stake was set up in the middle of
+the cabbage-bed to be preserved; and on this stake was fixed a Horse's
+skull bleached in the sun: a Mare's skull was considered even better.
+This sort of bogey was supposed to ward off the devouring brood.
+
+My confidence in this preservative is but an indifferent one; my reason
+for mentioning it is that it reminds me of a custom still observed in
+our own days, at least in my part of the country. Nothing is so
+long-lived as absurdity. Tradition has retained in a simplified form,
+the ancient defensive apparatus of which Pliny speaks. For the Horse's
+skull our people have substituted an egg-shell on the top of a switch
+stuck among the cabbages. It is easier to arrange; also it is quite as
+useful, that is to say, it has no effect whatever.
+
+Everything, even the nonsensical, is capable of explanation with a
+little credulity. When I question the peasants, our neighbours, they
+tell me that the effect of the egg-shell is as simple as can be: the
+Butterflies, attracted by the whiteness, come and lay their eggs upon
+it. Broiled by the sun and lacking all nourishment on that thankless
+support, the little caterpillars die; and that makes so many fewer.
+
+I insist; I ask them if they have ever seen slabs of eggs or masses of
+young caterpillars on those white shells.
+
+"Never," they reply, with one voice.
+
+"Well, then?"
+
+"It was done in the old days and so we go on doing it: that's all we
+know; and that's enough for us."
+
+I leave it at that, persuaded that the memory of the Horse's skull,
+used once upon a time, is ineradicable, like all the rustic absurdities
+implanted by the ages.
+
+We have, when all is said, but one means of protection, which is to
+watch and inspect the cabbage-leaves assiduously and crush the slabs of
+eggs between our finger and thumb and the caterpillars with our feet.
+Nothing is so effective as this method, which makes great demands on
+one's time and vigilance. What pains to obtain an unspoilt cabbage! And
+what a debt do we not owe to those humble scrapers of the soil, those
+ragged heroes, who provide us with the wherewithal to live!
+
+To eat and digest, to accumulate reserves whence the Butterfly will
+issue: that is the caterpillar's one and only business. The
+Cabbage-caterpillar performs it with insatiable gluttony. Incessantly
+it browses, incessantly digests: the supreme felicity of an animal
+which is little more than an intestine. There is never a distraction,
+unless it be certain see-saw movements which are particularly curious
+when several caterpillars are grazing side by side, abreast. Then, at
+intervals, all the heads in the row are briskly lifted and as briskly
+lowered, time after time, with an automatic precision worthy of a
+Prussian drill-ground. Can it be their method of intimidating an always
+possible aggressor? Can it be a manifestation of gaiety, when the
+wanton sun warms their full paunches? Whether sign of fear or sign of
+bliss, this is the only exercise that the gluttons allow themselves
+until the proper degree of plumpness is attained.
+
+After a month's grazing, the voracious appetite of my caged herd is
+assuaged. The caterpillars climb the trelliswork in every direction,
+walk about anyhow, with their forepart raised and searching space. Here
+and there, as they pass, the swaying herd put forth a thread. They
+wander restlessly, anxiously to travel afar. The exodus now prevented
+by the trellised enclosure I once saw under excellent conditions. At
+the advent of the cold weather, I had placed a few cabbage-stalks,
+covered with caterpillars, in a small greenhouse. Those who saw the
+common kitchen vegetable sumptuously lodged under glass, in the company
+of the pelargonium and the Chinese primrose, were astonished at my
+curious fancy. I let them smile. I had my plans: I wanted to find out
+how the family of the Large White Butterfly behaves when the cold
+weather sets in. Things happened just as I wished. At the end of
+November, the caterpillars, having grown to the desired extent, left
+the cabbages, one by one, and began to roam about the walls. None of
+them fixed himself there or made preparations for the transformation. I
+suspected that they wanted the choice of a spot in the open air,
+exposed to all the rigours of winter. I therefore left the door of the
+hothouse open. Soon the whole crowd had disappeared.
+
+I found them dispersed all over the neighbouring walls, some thirty
+yards off. The thrust of a ledge, the eaves formed by a projecting bit
+of mortar served them as a shelter where the chrysalid moult took place
+and where the winter was passed. The Cabbage-caterpillar possesses a
+robust constitution, unsusceptible to torrid heat or icy cold. All that
+he needs for his metamorphosis is an airy lodging, free from permanent
+damp.
+
+The inmates of my fold, therefore, move about for a few days on the
+trelliswork, anxious to travel afar in search of a wall. Finding none
+and realizing that time presses, they resign themselves. Each one,
+supporting himself on the trellis, first weaves around himself a thin
+carpet of white silk, which will form the sustaining layer at the time
+of the laborious and delicate work of the nymphosis. He fixes his
+rear-end to this base by a silk pad and his fore-part by a strap that
+passes under his shoulders and is fixed on either side to the carpet.
+Thus slung from his three fastenings, he strips himself of his larval
+apparel and turns into a chrysalis in the open air, with no protection
+save that of the wall, which the caterpillar would certainly have found
+had I not interfered.
+
+Of a surety, he would be short-sighted indeed that pictured a world of
+good things prepared exclusively for our advantage. The earth, the
+great foster-mother, has a generous breast. At the very moment when
+nourishing matter is created, even though it be with our own zealous
+aid, she summons to the feast host upon host of consumers, who are all
+the more numerous and enterprising in proportion as the table is more
+amply spread. The cherry of our orchards is excellent eating: a maggot
+contends with us for its possession. In vain do we weigh suns and
+planets: our supremacy, which fathoms the universe, cannot prevent a
+wretched worm from levying its toll on the delicious fruit. We make
+ourselves at home in a cabbage bed: the sons of the Pieris make
+themselves at home there too. Preferring broccoli to wild radish, they
+profit where we have profited; and we have no remedy against their
+competition save caterpillar-raids and egg-crushing, a thankless,
+tedious, and none too efficacious work.
+
+Every creature has its claims on life. The Cabbage-caterpillar eagerly
+puts forth his own, so much so that the cultivation of the precious
+plant would be endangered if others concerned did not take part in its
+defence. These others are the auxiliaries (The author employs this word
+to denote the insects that are helpful, while describing as "ravagers"
+the insects that are hurtful to the farmer's crops.--Translator's
+Note.), our helpers from necessity and not from sympathy. The words
+friend and foe, auxiliaries and ravagers are here the mere conventions
+of a language not always adapted to render the exact truth. He is our
+foe who eats or attacks our crops; our friend is he who feeds upon our
+foes. Everything is reduced to a frenzied contest of appetites.
+
+In the name of the might that is mine, of trickery, of highway robbery,
+clear out of that, you, and make room for me: give me your seat at the
+banquet! That is the inexorable law in the world of animals and more or
+less, alas, in our own world as well!
+
+Now, among our entomological auxiliaries, the smallest in size are the
+best at their work. One of them is charged with watching over the
+cabbages. She is so small, she works so discreetly that the gardener
+does not know her, has not even heard of her. Were he to see her by
+accident, flitting around the plant which she protects, he would take
+no notice of her, would not suspect the service rendered. I propose to
+set forth the tiny <DW40>'s deserts.
+
+Scientists call her Microgaster glomeratus. What exactly was in the
+mind of the author of the name Microgaster, which means little belly?
+Did he intend to allude to the insignificance of the abdomen? Not so.
+However slight the belly may be, the insect nevertheless possesses one,
+correctly proportioned to the rest of the body, so that the classic
+denomination, far from giving us any information, might mislead us,
+were we to trust it wholly. Nomenclature, which changes from day to day
+and becomes more and more cacophonous, is an unsafe guide. Instead of
+asking the animal what its name is, let us begin by asking:
+
+"What can you do? What is your business?"
+
+Well, the Microgaster's business is to exploit the Cabbage-caterpillar,
+a clearly-defined business, admitting of no possible confusion. Would
+we behold her works? In the spring, let us inspect the neighbourhood of
+the kitchen-garden. Be our eye never so unobservant, we shall notice
+against the walls or on the withered grasses at the foot of the hedges
+some very small yellow cocoons, heaped into masses the size of a
+hazel-nut.
+
+Beside each group lies a Cabbage-caterpillar, sometimes dying,
+sometimes dead, and always presenting a most tattered appearance. These
+cocoons are the work of the Microgaster's family, hatched or on the
+point of hatching into the perfect stage; the caterpillar is the dish
+whereon that family has fed during its larval state. The epithet
+glomeratus, which accompanies the name of Microgaster, suggests this
+conglomeration of cocoons. Let us collect the clusters as they are,
+without seeking to separate them, an operation which would demand both
+patience and dexterity, for the cocoons are closely united by the
+inextricable tangle of their surface-threads. In May a swarm of pigmies
+will sally forth, ready to get to business in the cabbages.
+
+Colloquial language uses the terms Midge and Gnat to describe the tiny
+insects which we often see dancing in a ray of sunlight. There is
+something of everything in those aerial ballets. It is possible that
+the persecutrix of the Cabbage-caterpillar is there, along with many
+another; but the name of Midge cannot properly be applied to her. He
+who says Midge says Fly, Dipteron, two-winged insect; and our friend
+has four wings, one and all adapted for flying. By virtue of this
+characteristic and others no less important, she belongs to the order
+of Hymenoptera. (This order includes the Ichneumon-flies, of whom the
+Microgaster is one.--Translator's Note.) No matter: as our language
+possesses no more precise term outside the scientific vocabulary, let
+us use the expression Midge, which pretty well conveys the general
+idea. Our Midge, the Microgaster, is the size of an average Gnat. She
+measures 3 or 4 millimetres. (.117 to .156 inch.--Translator's Note.)
+The two sexes are equally numerous and wear the same costume, a black
+uniform, all but the legs, which are pale red. In spite of this
+likeness, they are easily distinguished. The male has an abdomen which
+is slightly flattened and, moreover, curved at the tip; the female,
+before the laying, has hers full and perceptibly distended by its
+ovular contents. This rapid sketch of the insect should be enough for
+our purpose.
+
+If we wish to know the grub and especially to inform ourselves of its
+manner of living, it is advisable to rear in a cage a numerous herd of
+Cabbage-caterpillars. Whereas a direct search on the cabbages in our
+garden would give us but a difficult and uncertain harvest, by this
+means we shall daily have as many as we wish before our eyes.
+
+In the course of June, which is the time when the caterpillars quit
+their pastures and go far afield to settle on some wall or other, those
+in my fold, finding nothing better, climb to the dome of the cage to
+make their preparations and to spin a supporting network for the
+chrysalid's needs. Among these spinners we see some weaklings working
+listlessly at their carpet. Their appearance makes us deem them in the
+grip of a mortal disease. I take a few of them and open their bellies,
+using a needle by way of a scalpel. What comes out is a bunch of green
+entrails, soaked in a bright yellow fluid, which is really the
+creature's blood. These tangled intestines swarm with little lazy
+grubs, varying greatly in number, from ten or twenty at least to
+sometimes half a hundred. They are the offspring of the Microgaster.
+
+What do they feed on? The lens makes conscientious enquiries; nowhere
+does it manage to show me the vermin attacking solid nourishment, fatty
+tissues, muscles or other parts; nowhere do I see them bite, gnaw, or
+dissect. The following experiment will tell us more fully: I pour into
+a watch-glass the crowds extracted from the hospitable paunches. I
+flood them with caterpillar's blood obtained by simple pricks; I place
+the preparation under a glass bell-jar, in a moist atmosphere, to
+prevent evaporation; I repeat the nourishing bath by means of fresh
+bleedings and give them the stimulant which they would have gained from
+the living caterpillar. Thanks to these precautions, my charges have
+all the appearance of excellent health; they drink and thrive. But this
+state of things cannot last long. Soon ripe for the transformation, my
+grubs leave the dining-room of the watch-glass as they would have left
+the caterpillar's belly; they come to the ground to try and weave their
+tiny cocoons. They fail in the attempt and perish. They have missed a
+suitable support, that is to say, the silky carpet provided by the
+dying caterpillar. No matter: I have seen enough to convince me. The
+larvae of the Microgaster do not eat in the strict sense of the word;
+they live on soup; and that soup is the caterpillar's blood.
+
+Examine the parasites closely and you shall see that their diet is
+bound to be a liquid one. They are little white grubs, neatly
+segmented, with a pointed forepart splashed with tiny black marks, as
+though the atom had been slaking its thirst in a drop of ink. It moves
+its hind-quarters slowly, without shifting its position. I place it
+under the microscope. The mouth is a pore, devoid of any apparatus for
+disintegration-work: it has no fangs, no horny nippers, no mandibles;
+its attack is just a kiss. It does not chew, it sucks, it takes
+discreet sips at the moisture all around it.
+
+The fact that it refrains entirely from biting is confirmed by my
+autopsy of the stricken caterpillars. In the patient's belly,
+notwithstanding the number of nurselings who hardly leave room for the
+nurse's entrails, everything is in perfect order; nowhere do we see a
+trace of mutilation. Nor does aught on the outside betray any havoc
+within. The exploited caterpillars graze and move about peacefully,
+giving no sign of pain. It is impossible for me to distinguish them
+from the unscathed ones in respect of appetite and untroubled
+digestion.
+
+When the time approaches to weave the carpet for the support of the
+chrysalis, an appearance of emaciation at last points to the evil that
+is at their vitals. They spin nevertheless. They are stoics who do not
+forget their duty in the hour of death. At last they expire, quite
+softly, not of any wounds, but of anaemia, even as a lamp goes out when
+the oil comes to an end. And it has to be. The living caterpillar,
+capable of feeding himself and forming blood, is a necessity for the
+welfare of the grubs; he has to last about a month, until the
+Microgaster's offspring have achieved their full growth. The two
+calendars synchronize in a remarkable way. When the caterpillar leaves
+off eating and makes his preparations for the metamorphosis, the
+parasites are ripe for the exodus. The bottle dries up when the
+drinkers cease to need it; but until that moment it must remain more or
+less well-filled, although becoming limper daily. It is important,
+therefore, that the caterpillar's existence be not endangered by wounds
+which, even though very tiny, would stop the working of the
+blood-fountains. With this intent, the drainers of the bottle are, in a
+manner of speaking, muzzled; they have by way of a mouth a pore that
+sucks without bruising.
+
+The dying caterpillar continues to lay the silk of his carpet with a
+slow oscillation of the head. The moment now comes for the parasites to
+emerge. This happens in June and generally at nightfall. A breach is
+made on the ventral surface or else in the sides, never on the back:
+one breach only, contrived at a point of minor resistance, at the
+junction of two segments; for it is bound to be a toilsome business, in
+the absence of a set of filing-tools. Perhaps the grubs take one
+another's places at the point attacked and come by turns to work at it
+with a kiss.
+
+In one short spell, the whole tribe issues through this single opening
+and is soon wriggling about, perched on the surface of the caterpillar.
+The lens cannot perceive the hole, which closes on the instant. There
+is not even a haemorrhage: the bottle has been drained too thoroughly.
+You must press it between your fingers to squeeze out a few drops of
+moisture and thus discover the place of exit.
+
+Around the caterpillar, who is not always quite dead and who sometimes
+even goes on weaving his carpet a moment longer, the vermin at once
+begin to work at their cocoons. The straw- thread, drawn from
+the silk-glands by a backward jerk of the head, is first fixed to the
+white network of the caterpillar and then produces adjacent warp-beams,
+so that, by mutual entanglements, the individual works are welded
+together and form an agglomeration in which each of the grubs has its
+own cabin. For the moment, what is woven is not the real cocoon, but a
+general scaffolding which will facilitate the construction of the
+separate shells. All these frames rest upon those adjoining and, mixing
+up their threads, become a common edifice wherein each grub contrives a
+shelter for itself. Here at last the real cocoon is spun, a pretty
+little piece of closely-woven work.
+
+In my rearing-jars I obtain as many groups of these tiny shells as my
+future experiments can wish for. Three-fourths of the caterpillars have
+supplied me with them, so ruthless has been the toll of the spring
+births. I lodge these groups, one by one, in separate glass tubes, thus
+forming a collection on which I can draw at will, while, in view of my
+experiments, I keep under observation the whole swarm produced by one
+caterpillar.
+
+The adult Microgaster appears a fortnight later, in the middle of June.
+There are fifty in the first tube examined. The riotous multitude is in
+the full enjoyment of the pairing-season, for the two sexes always
+figure among the guests of any one caterpillar. What animation! What an
+orgy of love! The carnival of these pigmies bewilders the observer and
+makes his head swim.
+
+Most of the females, wishful of liberty, plunge down to the waist
+between the glass of the tube and the plug of cotton-wool that closes
+the end turned to the light; but the lower halves remain free and form
+a circular gallery in front of which the males hustle one another, take
+one another's places and hastily operate. Each bides his turn, each
+attends to his little matters for a few moments and then makes way for
+his rivals and goes off to start again elsewhere. The turbulent wedding
+lasts all the morning and begins afresh next day, a mighty throng of
+couples embracing, separating and embracing once more.
+
+There is every reason to believe that, in gardens, the mated ones,
+finding themselves in isolated couples, would keep quieter. Here, in
+the tube, things degenerate into a riot because the assembly is too
+numerous for the narrow space.
+
+What is lacking to complete its happiness? Apparently a little food, a
+few sugary mouthfuls extracted from the flowers. I serve up some
+provisions in the tubes: not drops of honey, in which the puny
+creatures would get stuck, but little strips of paper spread with that
+dainty. They come to them, take their stand on them and refresh
+themselves. The fare appears to agree with them. With this diet,
+renewed as the strips dry up, I can keep them in very good condition
+until the end of my inquisition.
+
+There is another arrangement to be made. The colonists in my spare
+tubes are restless and quick of flight; they will have to be
+transferred presently to sundry vessels without my risking the loss of
+a good number, or even the whole lot, a loss which my hands, my forceps
+and other means of coercion would be unable to prevent by checking the
+nimble movements of the tiny prisoners. The irresistible attraction of
+the sunlight comes to my aid. If I lay one of my tubes horizontally on
+the table, turning one end towards the full light of a sunny window,
+the captives at once make for the brighter end and play about there for
+a long while, without seeking to retreat. If I turn the tube in the
+opposite direction, the crowd immediately shifts its quarters and
+collects at the other end. The brilliant sunlight is its great joy.
+With this bait, I can send it whithersoever I please.
+
+We will therefore place the new receptacle, jar or test-tube, on the
+table, pointing the closed end towards the window. At its mouth, we
+open one of the full tubes. No other precaution is needed: even though
+the mouth leaves a large interval free, the swarm hastens into the
+lighted chamber. All that remains to be done is to close the apparatus
+before moving it. The observer is now in control of the multitude,
+without appreciable losses, and is able to question it at will.
+
+We will begin by asking:
+
+"How do you manage to lodge your germs inside the caterpillar?"
+
+This question and others of the same category, which ought to take
+precedence of everything else, are generally neglected by the impaler
+of insects, who cares more for the niceties of nomenclature than for
+glorious realities. He classifies his subjects, dividing them into
+regiments with barbarous labels, a work which seems to him the highest
+expression of entomological science. Names, nothing but names: the rest
+hardly counts. The persecutor of the Pieris used to be called
+Microgaster, that is to say, little belly: to-day she is called
+Apanteles, that is to say, the incomplete. What a fine step forward! We
+now know all about it!
+
+Can our friend at least tell us how "the Little Belly" or "the
+Incomplete" gets into the caterpillar? Not a bit of it! A book which,
+judging by its recent date, should be the faithful echo of our actual
+knowledge, informs us that the Microgaster inserts her eggs direct into
+the caterpillar's body. It goes on to say that the parasitic vermin
+inhabit the chrysalis, whence they make their way out by perforating
+the stout horny wrapper. Hundreds of times have I witnessed the exodus
+of the grubs ripe for weaving their cocoons; and the exit has always
+been made through the skin of the caterpillar and never through the
+armour of the chrysalis. The fact that its mouth is a mere clinging
+pore, deprived of any offensive weapon, would even lead me to believe
+that the grub is incapable of perforating the chrysalid's covering.
+
+This proved error makes me doubt the other proposition, though logical,
+after all, and agreeing with the methods followed by a host of
+parasites. No matter: my faith in what I read in print is of the
+slightest; I prefer to go straight to facts. Before making a statement
+of any kind, I want to see, what I call seeing. It is a slower and more
+laborious process; but it is certainly much safer.
+
+I will not undertake to lie in wait for what takes place on the
+cabbages in the garden: that method is too uncertain and besides does
+not lend itself to precise observation. As I have in hand the necessary
+materials, to wit, my collection of tubes swarming with the parasites
+newly hatched into the adult form, I will operate on the little table
+in my animals' laboratory. A jar with a capacity of about a litre
+(About 1 3/4 pints, or .22 gallon.--Translator's Note.) is placed on
+the table, with the bottom turned towards the window in the sun. I put
+into it a cabbage-leaf covered with caterpillars, sometimes fully
+developed, sometimes half-way, sometimes just out of the egg. A strip
+of honeyed paper will serve the Microgaster as a dining room, if the
+experiment is destined to take some time. Lastly, by the method of
+transfer which I described above, I send the inmates of one of my tubes
+into the apparatus. Once the jar is closed, there is nothing left to do
+but to let things take their course and to keep an assiduous watch, for
+days and weeks, if need be. Nothing worth remarking can escape me.
+
+The caterpillars graze placidly, heedless of their terrible attendants.
+If some giddy-pates in the turbulent swarm pass over the caterpillars'
+spines, these draw up their fore-part with a jerk and as suddenly lower
+it again; and that is all: the intruders forthwith decamp. Nor do the
+latter seem to contemplate any harm: they refresh themselves on the
+honey-smeared strip, they come and go tumultuously. Their short flights
+may land them, now in one place, now in another, on the browsing herd,
+but they pay no attention to it. What we see is casual meetings, not
+deliberate encounters.
+
+In vain I change the flock of caterpillars and vary their age; in vain
+I change the squad of parasites; in vain I follow events in the jar for
+long hours, morning and evening, both in a dim light and in the full
+glare of the sun: I succeed in seeing nothing, absolutely nothing, on
+the parasite's side, that resembles an attack. No matter what the
+ill-informed authors say--ill-informed because they had not the
+patience to see for themselves--the conclusion at which I arrive is
+positive: to inject the germs, the Microgaster never attacks the
+caterpillars.
+
+The invasion, therefore, is necessarily effected through the
+Butterfly's eggs themselves, as experiment will prove. My broad jar
+would tell against the inspection of the troop, kept at too great a
+distance by the glass enclosure, and I therefore select a tube an inch
+wide. I place in this a shred of cabbage-leaf, bearing a slab of eggs,
+as laid by the Butterfly. I next introduce the inmates of one of my
+spare vessels. A strip of paper smeared with honey accompanies the new
+arrivals.
+
+This happens early in July. Soon, the females are there, fussing about,
+sometimes to the extent of blackening the whole slab of yellow eggs.
+They inspect the treasure, flutter their wings and brush their
+hind-legs against each other, a sign of keen satisfaction. They sound
+the heap, probe the interstices with their antennae and tap the
+individual eggs with their palpi; then, this one here, that one there,
+they quickly apply the tip of their abdomen to the egg selected. Each
+time, we see a slender, horny prickle darting from the ventral surface,
+close to the end. This is the instrument that deposits the germ under
+the film of the egg; it is the inoculation-needle. The operation is
+performed calmly and methodically, even when several mothers are
+working at one and the same time. Where one has been, a second goes,
+followed by a third, a fourth and others yet, nor am I able definitely
+to see the end of the visits paid to the same egg. Each time, the
+needle enters and inserts a germ.
+
+It is impossible, in such a crowd, for the eye to follow the successive
+mothers who hasten to lay in each; but there is one quite practicable
+method by which we can estimate the number of germs introduced into a
+single egg, which is, later, to open the ravaged caterpillars and count
+the grubs which they contain. A less repugnant means is to number the
+little cocoons heaped up around each dead caterpillar. The total will
+tell us how many germs were injected, some by the same mother returning
+several times to the egg already treated, others by different mothers.
+Well, the number of these cocoons varies greatly. Generally, it
+fluctuates in the neighbourhood of twenty, but I have come across as
+many as sixty-five; and nothing tells me that this is the extreme
+limit. What hideous industry for the extermination of a Butterfly's
+progeny!
+
+I am fortunate at this moment in having a highly-cultured visitor,
+versed in the profundities of philosophic thought. I make way for him
+before the apparatus wherein the Microgaster is at work. For an hour
+and more, standing lens in hand, he, in his turn, looks and sees what I
+have just seen; he watches the layers who go from one egg to the other,
+make their choice, draw their slender lancet and prick what the stream
+of passers-by, one after the other, have already pricked. Thoughtful
+and a little uneasy, he puts down his lens at last. Never had he been
+vouchsafed so clear a glimpse as here, in my finger-wide tube, of the
+masterly brigandage that runs through all life down to that of the very
+smallest.
+
+
+INDEX.
+
+Ammophila.
+
+Andrena.
+
+Anoxia.
+
+Ant-lion.
+
+Anthidium.
+
+Anthophora personata.
+
+Anthrax.
+
+Apanteles, see Microgaster glomeratus.
+
+Arundo donax, the great reed.
+
+Audubon, on trapping Turkeys.
+
+Bats.
+
+Bell-ringing Toad.
+
+Bembex.
+
+Bird-catchers.
+
+Blackbirds, Corsican.
+
+Bluebottle.
+the laying of the eggs.
+hatching.
+a test.
+paper a protection against.
+the grubs.
+sand a protection against.
+
+Bower-bird.
+
+Brussels Sprouts, ancestry of.
+
+Buprestis.
+
+Burying-beetles: method of burial.
+appearance of the insect.
+manipulation of the corpse.
+cooperation of individuals.
+larvae of.
+attacked by vermin.
+the dismal end of.
+experiments.
+test conditions imposed.
+conditions of burial.
+nets of cordage cut through.
+ligatures severed.
+limitations of instinct.
+
+Cabbage, ancestry of.
+offspring.
+
+Cabbage Butterfly, her selection of suitable Cruciferae.
+eggs of.
+hatching of the eggs.
+
+Cabbage-caterpillar.
+eats egg-cases on emergence.
+employment of silk by.
+growth and moults.
+its voracity.
+an old charm against.
+the only true charm.
+movements of the caterpillar.
+its chrysalis.
+its deadly enemy.
+
+Calliphora vomitaria, see Bluebottle.
+
+Capricorn Beetle.
+the grub.
+its cell.
+the barricade.
+the pupa.
+metamorphosis and emergence.
+
+Cauliflower.
+
+Centauries.
+
+Cerambyx miles.
+
+Cerceris.
+
+Cetonia, or Rose-chafer.
+
+Chalicodoma.
+
+Chat, Black-eared.
+
+Cicada.
+the grasshopper's victim.
+
+Cicadella.
+
+Clairville on the Burying-beetle.
+
+Clothes-moth.
+
+Cockchafers.
+
+Cole-rape.
+
+Cordillac, philosophy of.
+
+Couch-grass.
+
+Cricket, Italian.
+Common Black.
+
+Cruciferae, the diet of Pieris brassicae.
+
+Dasypoda.
+
+Dermestes.
+
+Digger-wasps.
+
+Dragon-fly.
+
+Drilus maroccanus.
+
+Dung-beetles.
+
+Empusa.
+larva of.
+fore-limbs.
+strange head-dress.
+food of.
+how killed.
+metamorphosis of.
+curious position assumed in captivity.
+pacific nature of.
+
+Epeira, Angular, telegraph wire of.
+
+Epeira fasciator.
+appearance of.
+its web.
+nature of the thread.
+her station on the web.
+fatty unguent of.
+nature of the adhesive glue.
+hunting methods.
+treatment of prey.
+bite of.
+the alarm.
+the telegraph wire.
+
+Epeira, Silky.
+
+Ephippigera.
+
+Eucera.
+
+Eumenes.
+cells of different species.
+nest of E. pomiformis.
+prey found in nest of E. Amedei.
+sex of eggs known to insect.
+prey in nest of E. pomiformis.
+experiments on larvae.
+position of the egg.
+suspension of the larvae.
+the protective sheath.
+
+Flesh-fly, Grey.
+viviparous.
+maggots of.
+a test.
+her attacks on meat-safes.
+baffled by sand.
+
+Fly.
+
+Frog, burial of a.
+
+Froghopper.
+
+Geotrupes.
+
+Gledditsch on Burying-beetles.
+
+Glow-worm.
+diet of Snails.
+anaesthetises its prey.
+digestive juice secreted by.
+adhesive climbing appendage of.
+luminous apparatus of.
+regulation of light.
+light displayed by females.
+eyes of the male.
+pairing.
+eggs.
+luminosity of eggs.
+of larvae.
+
+Grasshopper, Green.
+the note of the.
+stridulating apparatus.
+habitat.
+food.
+mating habits.
+eggs.
+seminal capsule.
+
+Greenfinch.
+
+Halictus.
+
+Harmas.
+description of.
+
+Harmonica.
+
+Horn-beetle.
+
+Hornet.
+
+Hunting-wasp.
+
+Laboratory, the outdoor.
+
+Lacordaire on the Burying-beetle.
+
+Lamellicornis.
+
+Larini.
+
+Linnet, dead, preserved from flies by paper.
+
+Lizard, Eyed.
+
+Locust.
+the prey of the Epeira.
+
+Lycosa, Narbonne.
+its eyes.
+its burrow.
+the rampart.
+use of same.
+methods of catching prey.
+method of laying eggs.
+the egg-sac.
+experiments with.
+the hatching process.
+the young.
+experiments with.
+a problem of energy.
+
+Macrocera.
+
+Mantis, Praying.
+
+Mason-bees.
+cells used by Osmiae.
+
+Mason-wasps.
+
+Massagetae, customs of the.
+
+Megachiles.
+
+Melolontho fullo.
+
+Michelet.
+
+Microgaster glomeratus.
+the exterminator of the Cabbage Caterpillar.
+method of feeding.
+emergence from the host.
+cocoons.
+the adult.
+pairing.
+food.
+the eggs laid in the Butterfly's egg.
+
+Mole, burial of a.
+a supply of corpses obtained.
+
+Mouse, burial of a.
+
+National festival, the.
+
+Natterjack.
+
+Necrophorus, see Burying-beetles.
+
+Oryctes.
+
+Osmia.
+cells of different species.
+glass nests of Three-horned Osmia.
+distribution of sexes.
+optional determination of sex.
+
+Owl.
+Horned Owl.
+Common Owl.
+
+Oyster-plant.
+
+Pelopaeus.
+
+Perez, Professor.
+
+Philanthus apivorus.
+
+Phylloxera.
+
+Pieris brassicae.
+
+Pine Processionary.
+silken road of.
+nest.
+use of road.
+senses.
+nest.
+the processionary march.
+experiments.
+on a circular track.
+
+Pliny, on the Cabbage Caterpillar.
+
+Pompilus.
+
+Rose-chafer.
+
+Sacred Beetle.
+
+Saprini.
+
+Sarcophaga carnaria, see Flesh-fly.
+
+Scarabaeus.
+
+Scolia.
+
+Scops.
+
+Serin-finch.
+
+Sex, distribution, determination and permutations of, in the Osmia.
+
+Silpha.
+
+Sitaris.
+
+Snail-shell, Osmia's use of.
+
+Snail, the prey of the Glow-worm.
+
+Sphex.
+
+Sphex, White-banded.
+
+Spiders.
+apprised of prey by vibration.
+
+Staphylinus.
+
+Stizus.
+
+Swede.
+
+Tadpoles.
+
+Tarantula, Black-bellied, see Lycosa.
+
+Thistles.
+
+Thomisus.
+
+Toad, Bell-ringing.
+
+Tree-frogs.
+
+Tree Wasps.
+
+Turkeys, how trapped.
+
+Ventoux, Mount.
+
+Wasp, Common.
+
+Woodpecker.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Wonders of Instinct, by J. H. Fabre
+
 *** 
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