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diff --git a/1887-0.txt b/1887-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5cc3c52 --- /dev/null +++ b/1887-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7380 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Life of the Spider, by J. Henri Fabre + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Life of the Spider + +Author: J. Henri Fabre + +Translator: Alexander Teixeira de Mattos + +Release Date: September, 1999 [eBook #1887] +[Most recently updated: June 8, 2021] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: David Price + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF THE SPIDER *** + + + + +THE LIFE OF THE SPIDER + + +CHAPTER I: THE BLACK-BELLIED TARANTULA + + +The Spider has a bad name: to most of us, she represents an odious, +noxious animal, which every one hastens to crush under foot. Against +this summary verdict the observer sets the beast's industry, its talent +as a weaver, its wiliness in the chase, its tragic nuptials and other +characteristics of great interest. Yes, the Spider is well worth +studying, apart from any scientific reasons; but she is said to be +poisonous and that is her crime and the primary cause of the repugnance +wherewith she inspires us. Poisonous, I agree, if by that we understand +that the animal is armed with two fangs which cause the immediate death +of the little victims which it catches; but there is a wide difference +between killing a Midge and harming a man. However immediate in its +effects upon the insect entangled in the fatal web, the Spider's poison +is not serious for us and causes less inconvenience than a Gnat-bite. +That, at least, is what we can safely say as regards the great majority +of the Spiders of our regions. + +Nevertheless, a few are to be feared; and foremost among these is the +Malmignatte, the terror of the Corsican peasantry. I have seen her +settle in the furrows, lay out her web and rush boldly at insects larger +than herself; I have admired her garb of black velvet speckled with +carmine-red; above all, I have heard most disquieting stories told about +her. Around Ajaccio and Bonifacio, her bite is reputed very dangerous, +sometimes mortal. The countryman declares this for a fact and the doctor +does not always dare deny it. In the neighbourhood of Pujaud, not far +from Avignon, the harvesters speak with dread of _Theridion lugubre_, {1} +first observed by Leon Dufour in the Catalonian mountains; according to +them, her bite would lead to serious accidents. The Italians have +bestowed a bad reputation on the Tarantula, who produces convulsions and +frenzied dances in the person stung by her. To cope with 'tarantism,' +the name given to the disease that follows on the bite of the Italian +Spider, you must have recourse to music, the only efficacious remedy, so +they tell us. Special tunes have been noted, those quickest to afford +relief. There is medical choreography, medical music. And have we not +the tarantella, a lively and nimble dance, bequeathed to us perhaps by +the healing art of the Calabrian peasant? + +Must we take these queer things seriously or laugh at them? From the +little that I have seen, I hesitate to pronounce an opinion. Nothing +tells us that the bite of the Tarantula may not provoke, in weak and very +impressionable people, a nervous disorder which music will relieve; +nothing tells us that a profuse perspiration, resulting from a very +energetic dance, is not likely to diminish the discomfort by diminishing +the cause of the ailment. So far from laughing, I reflect and enquire, +when the Calabrian peasant talks to me of his Tarantula, the Pujaud +reaper of his _Theridion lugubre_, the Corsican husbandman of his +Malmignatte. Those Spiders might easily deserve, at least partly, their +terrible reputation. + +The most powerful Spider in my district, the Black-bellied Tarantula, +will presently give us something to think about, in this connection. It +is not my business to discuss a medical point, I interest myself +especially in matters of instinct; but, as the poison-fangs play a +leading part in the huntress' manoeuvres of war, I shall speak of their +effects by the way. The habits of the Tarantula, her ambushes, her +artifices, her methods of killing her prey: these constitute my subject. +I will preface it with an account by Leon Dufour, {2} one of those +accounts in which I used to delight and which did much to bring me into +closer touch with the insect. The Wizard of the Landes tells us of the +ordinary Tarantula, that of the Calabrias, observed by him in Spain: + + '_Lycosa tarantula_ by preference inhabits open places, dry, arid, + uncultivated places, exposed to the sun. She lives generally--at + least when full-grown--in underground passages, regular burrows, which + she digs for herself. These burrows are cylindrical; they are often + an inch in diameter and run into the ground to a depth of more than a + foot; but they are not perpendicular. The inhabitant of this gut + proves that she is at the same time a skilful hunter and an able + engineer. It was a question for her not only of constructing a deep + retreat that could hide her from the pursuit of her foes: she also had + to set up her observatory whence to watch for her prey and dart out + upon it. The Tarantula provides for every contingency: the + underground passage, in fact, begins by being vertical, but, at four + or five inches from the surface, it bends at an obtuse angle, forms a + horizontal turning and then becomes perpendicular once more. It is at + the elbow of this tunnel that the Tarantula posts herself as a + vigilant sentry and does not for a moment lose sight of the door of + her dwelling; it was there that, at the period when I was hunting her, + I used to see those eyes gleaming like diamonds, bright as a cat's + eyes in the dark. + + 'The outer orifice of the Tarantula's burrow is usually surmounted by + a shaft constructed throughout by herself. It is a genuine work of + architecture, standing as much as an inch above the ground and + sometimes two inches in diameter, so that it is wider than the burrow + itself. This last circumstance, which seems to have been calculated + by the industrious Spider, lends itself admirably to the necessary + extension of the legs at the moment when the prey is to be seized. The + shaft is composed mainly of bits of dry wood joined by a little clay + and so artistically laid, one above the other, that they form the + scaffolding of a straight column, the inside of which is a hollow + cylinder. The solidity of this tubular building, of this outwork, is + ensured above all by the fact that it is lined, upholstered within, + with a texture woven by the Lycosa's {3} spinnerets and continued + throughout the interior of the burrow. It is easy to imagine how + useful this cleverly-manufactured lining must be for preventing + landslip or warping, for maintaining cleanliness and for helping her + claws to scale the fortress. + + 'I hinted that this outwork of the burrow was not there invariably; as + a matter of fact, I have often come across Tarantulas' holes without a + trace of it, perhaps because it had been accidentally destroyed by the + weather, or because the Lycosa may not always light upon the proper + building-materials, or, lastly, because architectural talent is + possibly declared only in individuals that have reached the final + stage, the period of perfection of their physical and intellectual + development. + + 'One thing is certain, that I have had numerous opportunities of + seeing these shafts, these out-works of the Tarantula's abode; they + remind me, on a larger scale, of the tubes of certain Caddis-worms. + The Arachnid had more than one object in view in constructing them: + she shelters her retreat from the floods; she protects it from the + fall of foreign bodies which, swept by the wind, might end by + obstructing it; lastly, she uses it as a snare by offering the Flies + and other insects whereon she feeds a projecting point to settle on. + Who shall tell us all the wiles employed by this clever and daring + huntress? + + 'Let us now say something about my rather diverting Tarantula-hunts. + The best season for them is the months of May and June. The first + time that I lighted on this Spider's burrows and discovered that they + were inhabited by seeing her come to a point on the first floor of her + dwelling--the elbow which I have mentioned--I thought that I must + attack her by main force and pursue her relentlessly in order to + capture her; I spent whole hours in opening up the trench with a knife + a foot long by two inches wide, without meeting the Tarantula. I + renewed the operation in other burrows, always with the same want of + success; I really wanted a pickaxe to achieve my object, but I was too + far from any kind of house. I was obliged to change my plan of attack + and I resorted to craft. Necessity, they say, is the mother of + invention. + + 'It occurred to me to take a stalk, topped with its spikelet, by way + of a bait, and to rub and move it gently at the orifice of the burrow. + I soon saw that the Lycosa's attention and desires were roused. + Attracted by the bait, she came with measured steps towards the + spikelet. I withdrew it in good time a little outside the hole, so as + not to leave the animal time for reflexion; and the Spider suddenly, + with a rush, darted out of her dwelling, of which I hastened to close + the entrance. The Tarantula, bewildered by her unaccustomed liberty, + was very awkward in evading my attempts at capture; and I compelled + her to enter a paper bag, which I closed without delay. + + 'Sometimes, suspecting the trap, or perhaps less pressed by hunger, + she would remain coy and motionless, at a slight distance from the + threshold, which she did not think it opportune to cross. Her + patience outlasted mine. In that case, I employed the following + tactics: after making sure of the Lycosa's position and the direction + of the tunnel, I drove a knife into it on the slant, so as to take the + animal in the rear and cut off its retreat by stopping up the burrow. + I seldom failed in my attempt, especially in soil that was not stony. + In these critical circumstances, either the Tarantula took fright and + deserted her lair for the open, or else she stubbornly remained with + her back to the blade. I would then give a sudden jerk to the knife, + which flung both the earth and the Lycosa to a distance, enabling me + to capture her. By employing this hunting-method, I sometimes caught + as many as fifteen Tarantulae within the space of an hour. + + 'In a few cases, in which the Tarantula was under no misapprehension + as to the trap which I was setting for her, I was not a little + surprised, when I pushed the stalk far enough down to twist it round + her hiding-place, to see her play with the spikelet more or less + contemptuously and push it away with her legs, without troubling to + retreat to the back of her lair. + + 'The Apulian peasants, according to Baglivi's {4} account, also hunt + the Tarantula by imitating the humming of an insect with an oat-stalk + at the entrance to her burrow. I quote the passage: + + '"_Ruricolae nostri quando eas captare volunt, ad illorum latibula + accedunt, tenuisque avenacae fistulae sonum, apum murmuri non + absimilem, modulantur. Quo audito, ferox exit Tarentula ut muscas vel + alia hujus modi insecta, quorum murmur esse putat, captat; captatur + tamen ista a rustico insidiatore_." {5} + + 'The Tarantula, so dreadful at first sight, especially when we are + filled with the idea that her bite is dangerous, so fierce in + appearance, is nevertheless quite easy to tame, as I have often found + by experiment. + + 'On the 7th of May 1812, while at Valencia, in Spain, I caught a fair- + sized male Tarantula, without hurting him, and imprisoned him in a + glass jar, with a paper cover in which I cut a trap-door. At the + bottom of the jar I put a paper bag, to serve as his habitual + residence. I placed the jar on a table in my bedroom, so as to have + him under frequent observation. He soon grew accustomed to captivity + and ended by becoming so familiar that he would come and take from my + fingers the live Fly which I gave him. After killing his victim with + the fangs of his mandibles, he was not satisfied, like most Spiders, + to suck her head: he chewed her whole body, shoving it piecemeal into + his mouth with his palpi, after which he threw up the masticated + teguments and swept them away from his lodging. + + 'Having finished his meal, he nearly always made his toilet, which + consisted in brushing his palpi and mandibles, both inside and out, + with his front tarsi. After that, he resumed his air of motionless + gravity. The evening and the night were his time for taking his walks + abroad. I often heard him scratching the paper of the bag. These + habits confirm the opinion, which I have already expressed elsewhere, + that most Spiders have the faculty of seeing by day and night, like + cats. + + 'On the 28th of June, my Tarantula cast his skin. It was his last + moult and did not perceptibly alter either the colour of his attire or + the dimensions of his body. On the 14th of July, I had to leave + Valencia; and I stayed away until the 23rd. During this time, the + Tarantula fasted; I found him looking quite well on my return. On the + 20th of August, I again left for a nine days' absence, which my + prisoner bore without food and without detriment to his health. On + the 1st of October, I once more deserted the Tarantula, leaving him + without provisions. On the 21st, I was fifty miles from Valencia and, + as I intended to remain there, I sent a servant to fetch him. I was + sorry to learn that he was not found in the jar, and I never heard + what became of him. + + 'I will end my observations on the Tarantulae with a short description + of a curious fight between those animals. One day, when I had had a + successful hunt after these Lycosae, I picked out two full-grown and + very powerful males and brought them together in a wide jar, in order + to enjoy the sight of a combat to the death. After walking round the + arena several times, to try and avoid each other, they were not slow + in placing themselves in a warlike attitude, as though at a given + signal. I saw them, to my surprise, take their distances and sit up + solemnly on their hind-legs, so as mutually to present the shield of + their chests to each other. After watching them face to face like + that for two minutes, during which they had doubtless provoked each + other by glances that escaped my own, I saw them fling themselves upon + each other at the same time, twisting their legs round each other and + obstinately struggling to bite each other with the fangs of the + mandibles. Whether from fatigue or from convention, the combat was + suspended; there was a few seconds' truce; and each athlete moved away + and resumed his threatening posture. This circumstance reminded me + that, in the strange fights between cats, there are also suspensions + of hostilities. But the contest was soon renewed between my two + Tarantulae with increased fierceness. One of them, after holding + victory in the balance for a while, was at last thrown and received a + mortal wound in the head. He became the prey of the conqueror, who + tore open his skull and devoured it. After this curious duel, I kept + the victorious Tarantula alive for several weeks.' + +My district does not boast the ordinary Tarantula, the Spider whose +habits have been described above by the Wizard of the Landes; but it +possesses an equivalent in the shape of the Black-bellied Tarantula, or +Narbonne Lycosa, half the size of the other, 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_ +{6} 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. + +Economy of time, therefore, causes the defensive wall to vary greatly as +regards its constituent elements. The height varies also. One enclosure +is a turret an inch high; another amounts to a mere rim. All have their +parts bound firmly together with silk; and all have the same width as the +subterranean channel, of which they are the extension. There is here no +difference in diameter between the underground manor and its outwork, nor +do we behold, at the opening, the platform which the turret leaves to +give free play to the Italian Tarantula's legs. The Black-bellied +Tarantula's work takes the form of a well surmounted by its kerb. + +When the soil is earthy and homogeneous, the architectural type is free +from obstructions and the Spider's dwelling is a cylindrical tube; but, +when the site is pebbly, the shape is modified according to the +exigencies of the digging. In the second case, the lair is often a +rough, winding cave, at intervals along whose inner wall stick blocks of +stone avoided in the process of excavation. Whether regular or +irregular, the house is plastered to a certain depth with a coat of silk, +which prevents earth-slips and facilitates scaling when a prompt exit is +required. + +Baglivi, in his unsophisticated Latin, teaches us how to catch the +Tarantula. I became his _rusticus insidiator_; I waved a spikelet at +the entrance of the burrow to imitate the humming of a Bee and attract +the attention of the Lycosa, who rushes out, thinking that she is +capturing a prey. This method did not succeed with me. The Spider, it +is true, leaves her remote apartments and comes a little way up the +vertical tube to enquire into the sounds at her door; but the wily animal +soon scents a trap; it remains motionless at mid-height and, at the least +alarm, goes down again to the branch gallery, where it is invisible. + +Leon Dufour's appears to me a better method if it were only practicable +in the conditions wherein I find myself. To drive a knife quickly into +the ground, across the burrow, so as to cut off the Tarantula's retreat +when she is attracted by the spikelet and standing on the upper floor, +would be a manoeuvre certain of success, if the soil were favourable. +Unfortunately, this is not so in my case: you might as well try to dig a +knife into a block of tufa. + +Other stratagems become necessary. Here are two which were successful: I +recommend them to future Tarantula-hunters. I insert into the burrow, as +far down as I can, a stalk with a fleshy spikelet, which the Spider can +bite into. I move and turn and twist my bait. The Tarantula, when +touched by the intruding body, contemplates self-defence and bites the +spikelet. A slight resistance informs my fingers that the animal has +fallen into the trap and seized the tip of the stalk in its fangs. I +draw it to me, slowly, carefully; the Spider hauls from below, planting +her legs against the wall. It comes, it rises. I hide as best I may, +when the Spider enters the perpendicular tunnel: if she saw me, she would +let go the bait and slip down again. I thus bring her, by degrees, to +the orifice. This is the difficult moment. If I continue the gentle +movement, the Spider, feeling herself dragged out of her home, would at +once run back indoors. It is impossible to get the suspicious animal out +by this means. Therefore, when it appears at the level of the ground, I +give a sudden pull. Surprised by this foul play, the Tarantula has no +time to release her hold; gripping the spikelet, she is thrown some +inches away from the burrow. Her capture now becomes an easy matter. +Outside her own house, the Lycosa is timid, as though scared, and hardly +capable of running away. To push her with a straw into a paper bag is +the affair of a second. + +It requires some patience to bring the Tarantula who has bitten into the +insidious spikelet to the entrance of the burrow. The following method +is quicker: I procure a supply of live Bumble-bees. I put one into a +little bottle with a mouth just wide enough to cover the opening of the +burrow; and I turn the apparatus thus baited over the said opening. The +powerful Bee at first flutters and hums about her glass prison; then, +perceiving a burrow similar to that of her family, she enters it without +much hesitation. She is extremely ill-advised: while she goes down, the +Spider comes up; and the meeting takes place in the perpendicular +passage. For a few moments, the ear perceives a sort of death-song: it +is the humming of the Bumble-bee, protesting against the reception given +her. This is followed by a long silence. Then I remove the bottle and +dip a long-jawed forceps into the pit. I withdraw the Bumble-bee, +motionless, dead, with hanging proboscis. A terrible tragedy must have +happened. The Spider follows, refusing to let go so rich a booty. Game +and huntress are brought to the orifice. Sometimes, mistrustful, the +Lycosa goes in again; but we have only to leave the Bumble-bee on the +threshold of the door, or even a few inches away, to see her reappear, +issue from her fortress and daringly recapture her prey. This is the +moment: the house is closed with the finger, or a pebble and, as Baglivi +says, '_captatur tamen ista a rustico insidiatore_,' to which I will add, +'_adjuvante Bombo_.' {7} + +The object of these hunting methods was not exactly to obtain Tarantulae; +I had not the least wish to rear the Spider in a bottle. I was +interested in a different matter. Here, thought I, is an ardent +huntress, living solely by her trade. She does not prepare preserved +foodstuffs for her offspring; {8} she herself feeds on the prey which she +catches. She is not a 'paralyzer,' {9} who cleverly spares her quarry so +as to leave it a glimmer of life and keep it fresh for weeks at a time; +she is a killer, who makes a meal off her capture on the spot. With her, +there is no methodical vivisection, which destroys movement without +entirely destroying life, but absolute death, as sudden as possible, +which protects the assailant from the counter-attacks of the assailed. + +Her game, moreover, is essentially bulky and not always of the most +peaceful character. This Diana, ambushed in her tower, needs a prey +worthy of her prowess. The big Grasshopper, with the powerful jaws; the +irascible Wasp; the Bee, the Bumble-bee and other wearers of poisoned +daggers must fall into the ambuscade from time to time. The duel is +nearly equal in point of weapons. To the venomous fangs of the Lycosa +the Wasp opposes her venomous stiletto. Which of the two bandits shall +have the best of it? The struggle is a hand-to-hand one. The Tarantula +has no secondary means of defence, no cord to bind her victim, no trap to +subdue her. When the Epeira, or Garden Spider, sees an insect entangled +in her great upright web, she hastens up and covers the captive with +corded meshes and silk ribbons by the armful, making all resistance +impossible. When the prey is solidly bound, a prick is carefully +administered with the poison-fangs; then the Spider retires, waiting for +the death-throes to calm down, after which the huntress comes back to the +game. In these conditions, there is no serious danger. + +In the case of the Lycosa, the job is riskier. She has naught to serve +her but her courage and her fangs and is obliged to leap upon the +formidable prey, to master it by her dexterity, to annihilate it, in a +measure, by her swift-slaying talent. + +Annihilate is the word: the Bumble-bees whom I draw from the fatal hole +are a sufficient proof. As soon as that shrill buzzing, which I called +the death-song, ceases, in vain I hasten to insert my forceps: I always +bring out the insect dead, with slack proboscis and limp legs. Scarce a +few quivers of those legs tell me that it is a quite recent corpse. The +Bumble-bee's death is instantaneous. Each time that I take a fresh +victim from the terrible slaughter-house, my surprise is renewed at the +sight of its sudden immobility. + +Nevertheless, both animals have very nearly the same strength; for I +choose my Bumble-bees from among the largest (_Bombus hortorum_ and _B. +terrestris_). Their weapons are almost equal: the Bee's dart can bear +comparison with the Spider's fangs; the sting of the first seems to me as +formidable as the bite of the second. How comes it that the Tarantula +always has the upper hand and this moreover in a very short conflict, +whence she emerges unscathed? There must certainly be some cunning +strategy on her part. Subtle though her poison may be, I cannot believe +that its mere injection, at any point whatever of the victim, is enough +to produce so prompt a catastrophe. The ill-famed rattlesnake does not +kill so quickly, takes hours to achieve that for which the Tarantula does +not require a second. We must, therefore, look for an explanation of +this sudden death to the vital importance of the point attacked by the +Spider, rather than to the virulence of the poison. + +What is this point? It is impossible to recognize it on the Bumble-bees. +They enter the burrow; and the murder is committed far from sight. Nor +does the lens discover any wound upon the corpse, so delicate are the +weapons that produce it. One would have to see the two adversaries +engage in a direct contest. I have often tried to place a Tarantula and +a Bumble-bee face to face in the same bottle. The two animals mutually +flee each other, each being as much upset as the other at its captivity. +I have kept them together for twenty-four hours, without aggressive +display on either side. Thinking more of their prison than of attacking +each other, they temporize, as though indifferent. The experiment has +always been fruitless. I have succeeded with Bees and Wasps, but the +murder has been committed at night and has taught me nothing. I would +find both insects, next morning, reduced to a jelly under the Spider's +mandibles. A weak prey is a mouthful which the Spider reserves for the +calm of the night. A prey capable of resistance is not attacked in +captivity. The prisoner's anxiety cools the hunter's ardour. + +The arena of a large bottle enables each athlete to keep out of the +other's way, respected by her adversary, who is respected in her turn. +Let us reduce the lists, diminish the enclosure. I put Bumble-bee and +Tarantula into a test-tube that has only room for one at the bottom. A +lively brawl ensues, without serious results. If the Bumble-bee be +underneath, she lies down on her back and with her legs wards off the +other as much as she can. I do not see her draw her sting. The Spider, +meanwhile, embracing the whole circumference of the enclosure with her +long legs, hoists herself a little upon the slippery surface and removes +herself as far as possible from her adversary. There, motionless, she +awaits events, which are soon disturbed by the fussy Bumble-bee. Should +the latter occupy the upper position, the Tarantula protects herself by +drawing up her legs, which keep the enemy at a distance. In short, save +for sharp scuffles when the two champions are in touch, nothing happens +that deserves attention. There is no duel to the death in the narrow +arena of the test-tube, any more than in the wider lists afforded by the +bottle. Utterly timid once she is away from home, the Spider obstinately +refuses the battle; nor will the Bumble-bee, giddy though she be, think +of striking the first blow. I abandon experiments in my study. + +We must go direct to the spot and force the duel upon the Tarantula, who +is full of pluck in her own stronghold. Only, instead of the Bumble-bee, +who enters the burrow and conceals her death from our eyes, it is +necessary to substitute another adversary, less inclined to penetrate +underground. There abounds in the garden, at this moment, on the flowers +of the common clary, one of the largest and most powerful Bees that haunt +my district, the Carpenter-bee (_Xylocopa violacea_), clad in black +velvet, with wings of purple gauze. Her size, which is nearly an inch, +exceeds that of the Bumble-bee. Her sting is excruciating and produces a +swelling that long continues painful. I have very exact memories on this +subject, memories that have cost me dear. Here indeed is an antagonist +worthy of the Tarantula, if I succeed in inducing the Spider to accept +her. I place a certain number, one by one, in bottles small in capacity, +but having a wide neck capable of surrounding the entrance to the burrow. + +As the prey which I am about to offer is capable of overawing the +huntress, I select from among the Tarantulae the lustiest, the boldest, +those most stimulated by hunger. The spikeleted stalk is pushed into the +burrow. When the Spider hastens up at once, when she is of a good size, +when she climbs boldly to the aperture of her dwelling, she is admitted +to the tourney; otherwise, she is refused. The bottle, baited with a +Carpenter-bee, is placed upside down over the door of one of the elect. +The Bee buzzes gravely in her glass bell; the huntress mounts from the +recesses of the cave; she is on the threshold, but inside; she looks; she +waits. I also wait. The quarters, the half-hours pass: nothing. The +Spider goes down again: she has probably judged the attempt too +dangerous. I move to a second, a third, a fourth burrow: still nothing; +the huntress refuses to leave her lair. + +Fortune at last smiles upon my patience, which has been heavily tried by +all these prudent retreats and particularly by the fierce heat of the dog- +days. A Spider suddenly rushes from her hole: she has been rendered +warlike, doubtless, by prolonged abstinence. The tragedy that happens +under the cover of the bottle lasts for but the twinkling of an eye. It +is over: the sturdy Carpenter-bee is dead. Where did the murderess +strike her? That is easily ascertained: the Tarantula has not let go; +and her fangs are planted in the nape of the neck. The assassin has the +knowledge which I suspected: she has made for the essentially vital +centre, she has stung the insect's cervical ganglia with her +poison-fangs. In short, she has bitten the only point a lesion in which +produces sudden death. I was delighted with this murderous skill, which +made amends for the blistering which my skin received in the sun. + +Once is not custom: one swallow does not make a summer. Is what I have +just seen due to accident or to premeditation? I turn to other Lycosae. +Many, a deal too many for my patience, stubbornly refuse to dart from +their haunts in order to attack the Carpenter-bee. The formidable quarry +is too much for their daring. Shall not hunger, which brings the wolf +from the wood, also bring the Tarantula out of her hole? Two, apparently +more famished than the rest, do at last pounce upon the Bee and repeat +the scene of murder before my eyes. The prey, again bitten in the neck, +exclusively in the neck, dies on the instant. Three murders, perpetrated +in my presence under identical conditions, represent the fruits of my +experiment pursued, on two occasions, from eight o'clock in the morning +until twelve midday. + +I had seen enough. The quick insect-killer had taught me her trade as +had the paralyzer {10} before her: she had shown me that she is +thoroughly versed in the art of the butcher of the Pampas. {11} The +Tarantula is an accomplished _desnucador_. It remained to me to confirm +the open-air experiment with experiments in the privacy of my study. I +therefore got together a menagerie of these poisonous Spiders, so as to +judge of the virulence of their venom and its effect according to the +part of the body injured by the fangs. A dozen bottles and test-tubes +received the prisoners, whom I captured by the methods known to the +reader. To one inclined to scream at the sight of a Spider, my study, +filled with odious Lycosae, would have presented a very uncanny +appearance. + +Though the Tarantula scorns or rather fears to attack an adversary placed +in her presence in a bottle, she scarcely hesitates to bite what is +thrust beneath her fangs. I take her by the thorax with my forceps and +present to her mouth the animal which I wish stung. Forthwith, if the +Spider be not already tired by experiments, the fangs are raised and +inserted. I first tried the effects of the bite upon the Carpenter-bee. +When struck in the neck, the Bee succumbs at once. It was the lightning +death which I witnessed on the threshold of the burrows. When struck in +the abdomen and then placed in a large bottle that leaves its movements +free, the insect seems, at first, to have suffered no serious injury. It +flutters about and buzzes. But half an hour has not elapsed before death +is imminent. The insect lies motionless upon its back or side. At most, +a few movements of the legs, a slight pulsation of the belly, continuing +till the morrow, proclaim that life has not yet entirely departed. Then +everything ceases: the Carpenter-bee is a corpse. + +The importance of this experiment compels our attention. When stung in +the neck, the powerful Bee dies on the spot; and the Spider has not to +fear the dangers of a desperate struggle. Stung elsewhere, in the +abdomen, the insect is capable, for nearly half an hour, of making use of +its dart, its mandibles, its legs; and woe to the Lycosa whom the +stiletto reaches. I have seen some who, stabbed in the mouth while +biting close to the sting, died of the wound within the twenty-four +hours. That dangerous prey, therefore, requires instantaneous death, +produced by the injury to the nerve-centres of the neck; otherwise, the +hunter's life would often be in jeopardy. + +The Grasshopper order supplied me with a second series of victims: Green +Grasshoppers as long as one's finger, large-headed Locusts, Ephippigerae. +{12} The same result follows when these are bitten in the neck: +lightning death. When injured elsewhere, notably in the abdomen, the +subject of the experiment resists for some time. I have seen a +Grasshopper, bitten in the belly, cling firmly for fifteen hours to the +smooth, upright wall of the glass bell that constituted his prison. At +last, he dropped off and died. Where the Bee, that delicate organism, +succumbs in less than half an hour, the Grasshopper, coarse ruminant that +he is, resists for a whole day. Put aside these differences, caused by +unequal degrees of organic sensitiveness, and we sum up as follows: when +bitten by the Tarantula in the neck, an insect, chosen from among the +largest, dies on the spot; when bitten elsewhere, it perishes also, but +after a lapse of time which varies considerably in the different +entomological orders. + +This explains the long hesitation of the Tarantula, so wearisome to the +experimenter when he presents to her, at the entrance to the burrow, a +rich, but dangerous prey. The majority refuse to fling themselves upon +the Carpenter-bee. The fact is that a quarry of this kind cannot be +seized recklessly: the huntress who missed her stroke by biting at random +would do so at the risk of her life. The nape of the neck alone +possesses the desired vulnerability. The adversary must be nipped there +and no elsewhere. Not to floor her at once would mean to irritate her +and make her more dangerous than ever. The Spider is well aware of this. +In the safe shelter of her threshold, therefore, prepared to beat a quick +retreat if necessary, she watches for the favourable moment; she waits +for the big Bee to face her, when the neck is easily grabbed. If this +condition of success offer, she leaps out and acts; if not, weary of the +violent evolutions of the quarry, she retires indoors. And that, no +doubt, is why it took me two sittings of four hours apiece to witness +three assassinations. + +Formerly, instructed by the paralysing Wasps, I had myself tried to +produce paralysis by injecting a drop of ammonia into the thorax of those +insects, such as Weevils, Buprestes, {13} and Dung-beetles, whose compact +nervous system assists this physiological operation. I showed myself a +ready pupil to my masters' teaching and used to paralyze a Buprestis or a +Weevil almost as well as a Cerceris {14} could have done. Why should I +not to-day imitate that expert butcher, the Tarantula? With the point of +a fine needle, I inject a tiny drop of ammonia at the base of the skull +of a Carpenter-bee or a Grasshopper. The insect succumbs then and there, +without any other movement than wild convulsions. When attacked by the +acrid fluid, the cervical ganglia cease to do their work; and death +ensues. Nevertheless, this death is not immediate; the throes last for +some time. The experiment is not wholly satisfactory as regards +suddenness. Why? Because the liquid which I employ, ammonia, cannot be +compared, for deadly efficacy, with the Lycosa's poison, a pretty +formidable poison, as we shall see. + +I make a Tarantula bite the leg of a young, well-fledged Sparrow, ready +to leave the nest. A drop of blood flows; the wounded spot is surrounded +by a reddish circle, changing to purple. The bird almost immediately +loses the use of its leg, which drags, with the toes doubled in; it hops +upon the other. Apart from this, the patient does not seem to trouble +much about his hurt; his appetite is good. My daughters feed him on +Flies, bread-crumb, apricot-pulp. He is sure to get well, he will +recover his strength; the poor victim of the curiosity of science will be +restored to liberty. This is the wish, the intention of us all. Twelve +hours later, the hope of a cure increases; the invalid takes nourishment +readily; he clamours for it, if we keep him waiting. But the leg still +drags. I set this down to a temporary paralysis which will soon +disappear. Two days after, he refuses his food. Wrapping himself in his +stoicism and his rumpled feathers, the Sparrow hunches into a ball, now +motionless, now twitching. My girls take him in the hollow of their +hands and warm him with their breath. The spasms become more frequent. A +gasp proclaims that all is over. The bird is dead. + +There was a certain coolness among us at the evening-meal. I read mute +reproaches, because of my experiment, in the eyes of my home-circle; I +read an unspoken accusation of cruelty all around me. The death of the +unfortunate Sparrow had saddened the whole family. I myself was not +without some remorse of conscience: the poor result achieved seemed to me +too dearly bought. I am not made of the stuff of those who, without +turning a hair, rip up live Dogs to find out nothing in particular. + +Nevertheless, I had the courage to start afresh, this time on a Mole +caught ravaging a bed of lettuces. There was a danger lest my captive, +with his famished stomach, should leave things in doubt, if we had to +keep him for a few days. He might die not of his wound, but of +inanition, if I did not succeed in giving him suitable food, fairly +plentiful and dispensed at fairly frequent intervals. In that case, I +ran a risk of ascribing to the poison what might well be the result of +starvation. I must therefore begin by finding out if it was possible for +me to keep the Mole alive in captivity. The animal was put into a large +receptacle from which it could not get out and fed on a varied diet of +insects--Beetles, Grasshoppers, especially Cicadae {15}--which it +crunched up with an excellent appetite. Twenty-four hours of this +regimen convinced me that the Mole was making the best of the bill of +fare and taking kindly to his captivity. + +I make the Tarantula bite him at the tip of the snout. When replaced in +his cage, the Mole keeps on scratching his nose with his broad paws. The +thing seems to burn, to itch. Henceforth, less and less of the provision +of Cicadae is consumed; on the evening of the following day, it is +refused altogether. About thirty-six hours after being bitten, the Mole +dies during the night and certainly not from inanition, for there are +still half a dozen live Cicadae in the receptacle, as well as a few +Beetles. + +The bite of the Black-bellied Tarantula is therefore dangerous to other +animals than insects: it is fatal to the Sparrow, it is fatal to the +Mole. Up to what point are we to generalize? I do not know, because my +enquiries extended no further. Nevertheless, judging from the little +that I saw, it appears to me that the bite of this Spider is not an +accident which man can afford to treat lightly. This is all that I have +to say to the doctors. + +To the philosophical entomologists I have something else to say: I have +to call their attention to the consummate knowledge of the +insect-killers, which vies with that of the paralyzers. I speak of +insect-killers in the plural, for the Tarantula must share her deadly art +with a host of other Spiders, especially with those who hunt without +nets. These insect-killers, who live on their prey, strike the game dead +instantaneously by stinging the nerve-centres of the neck; the +paralyzers, on the other hand, who wish to keep the food fresh for their +larvae, destroy the power of movement by stinging the game in the other +nerve-centres. Both of them attack the nervous chain, but they select +the point according to the object to be attained. If death be desired, +sudden death, free from danger to the huntress, the insect is attacked in +the neck; if mere paralysis be required, the neck is respected and the +lower segments--sometimes one alone, sometimes three, sometimes all or +nearly all, according to the special organization of the victim--receive +the dagger-thrust. + +Even the paralyzers, at least some of them, are acquainted with the +immense vital importance of the nerve-centres of the neck. We have seen +the Hairy Ammophila munching the caterpillar's brain, the Languedocian +Sphex munching the brain of the Ephippigera, with the object of inducing +a passing torpor. But they simply squeeze the brain and do even this +with a wise discretion; they are careful not to drive their sting into +this fundamental centre of life; not one of them ever thinks of doing so, +for the result would be a corpse which the larva would despise. The +Spider, on the other hand, inserts her double dirk there and there alone; +any elsewhere it would inflict a wound likely to increase resistance +through irritation. She wants a venison for consumption without delay +and brutally thrusts her fangs into the spot which the others so +conscientiously respect. + +If the instinct of these scientific murderers is not, in both cases, an +inborn predisposition, inseparable from the animal, but an acquired +habit, then I rack my brain in vain to understand how that habit can have +been acquired. Shroud these facts in theoretic mists as much as you +will, you shall never succeed in veiling the glaring evidence which they +afford of a pre-established order of things. + + + + +CHAPTER II: THE BANDED EPEIRA + + +In the inclement season of the year, when the insect has nothing to do +and retires to winter quarters, the observer profits by the mildness of +the sunny nooks and grubs in the sand, lifts the stones, searches the +brushwood; and often he is stirred with a pleasurable excitement, when he +lights upon some ingenious work of art, discovered unawares. Happy are +the simple of heart whose ambition is satisfied with such treasure-trove! +I wish them all the joys which it has brought me and which it will +continue to bring me, despite the vexations of life, which grow ever more +bitter as the years follow their swift downward course. + +Should the seekers rummage among the wild grasses in the osier-beds and +copses, I wish them the delight of finding the wonderful object that, at +this moment, lies before my eyes. It is the work of a Spider, the nest +of the Banded Epeira (_Epeira fasciata_, LATR.). + +A Spider is not an insect, according to the rules of classification; and +as such the Epeira seems out of place here. {16} A fig for systems! It +is immaterial to the student of instinct whether the animal have eight +legs instead of six, or pulmonary sacs instead of air-tubes. Besides, +the Araneida belong to the group of segmented animals, organized in +sections placed end to end, a structure to which the terms 'insect' and +'entomology' both refer. + +Formerly, to describe this group, people said 'articulate animals,' an +expression which possessed the drawback of not jarring on the ear and of +being understood by all. This is out of date. Nowadays, they use the +euphonious term 'Arthropoda.' And to think that there are men who +question the existence of progress! Infidels! Say, 'articulate,' first; +then roll out, 'Arthropoda;' and you shall see whether zoological science +is not progressing! + +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 assiduously, in the thickets of evergreen oak, on the +slopes 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. The structure is that +adopted by the other weaving Spiders. Straight threads radiate at equal +intervals from a central point. Over this framework runs a continuous +spiral thread, forming chords, or cross-bars, from the centre to the +circumference. It is magnificently large and magnificently symmetrical. + +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. + +Increased resistance is not superfluous, for the net is sometimes exposed +to severe tests. The Epeira cannot pick and choose her prizes. Seated +motionless in the centre of her web, her eight legs wide-spread to feel +the shaking of the network in any direction, she waits for what luck will +bring her: now some giddy weakling unable to control its flight, anon +some powerful prey rushing headlong with a reckless bound. + +The Locust in particular, the fiery Locust, who releases the spring of +his long shanks at random, often falls into the trap. One imagines that +his strength ought to frighten the Spider; the kick of his spurred levers +should enable him to make a hole, then and there, in the web and to get +away. But not at all. If he does not free himself at the first effort, +the Locust is lost. + +Turning her back on the game, the Epeira works all her spinnerets, +pierced like the rose of a watering-pot, at one and the same time. The +silky spray is gathered by the hind-legs, which are longer than the +others and open into a wide arc to allow the stream to spread. Thanks to +this artifice, the Epeira this time obtains not a thread, but an +iridescent sheet, a sort of clouded fan wherein the component threads are +kept almost separate. The two hind-legs fling this shroud gradually, by +rapid alternate armfuls, while, at the same time, they turn the prey over +and over, swathing it completely. + +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 fishermen; 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. + +Soon she comes back to her motionless head of game: she sucks it, drains +it, repeatedly changing her point of attack. At last, the clean-bled +remains are flung out of the net and the Spider returns to her ambush in +the centre of the web. + +What the Epeira sucks is not a corpse, but a numbed body. If I remove +the Locust immediately after he has been bitten and release him from the +silken sheath, the patient recovers his strength to such an extent that +he seems, at first, to have suffered no injury. The Spider, therefore, +does not kill her capture before sucking its juices; she is content to +deprive it of the power of motion by producing a state of torpor. Perhaps +this kindlier bite gives her greater facility in working her pump. The +humours, if stagnant, in a corpse, would not respond so readily to the +action of the sucker; they are more easily extracted from a live body, in +which they move about. + +The Epeira, therefore, being a drinker of blood, moderates the virulence +of her sting, even with victims of appalling size, so sure is she of her +retiarian art. The long-legged Tryxalis, {17} the corpulent Grey Locust, +the largest of our Grasshoppers are accepted without hesitation and +sucked dry as soon as numbed. Those giants, capable of making a hole in +the net and passing through it in their impetuous onrush, can be but +rarely caught. I myself place them on the web. The Spider does the +rest. Lavishing her silky spray, she swathes them and then sucks the +body at her ease. With an increased expenditure of the spinnerets, the +very biggest game is mastered as successfully as the everyday prey. + +I have seen even better than that. This time, my subject is the Silky +Epeira (_Epeira sericea_, OLIV.), with a broad, festooned, silvery +abdomen. Like that of the other, her web is large, upright and 'signed' +with a zigzag ribbon. I place upon it a Praying Mantis, {18} a +well-developed specimen, quite capable of changing roles, should +circumstances permit, and herself making a meal off her assailant. It is +a question no longer of capturing a peaceful Locust, but a fierce and +powerful ogre, who would rip open the Epeira's paunch with one blow of +her harpoons. + +Will the Spider dare? Not immediately. Motionless in the centre of her +net, she consults her strength before attacking the formidable quarry; +she waits until the struggling prey has its claws more thickly entangled. +At last, she approaches. The Mantis curls her belly; lifts her wings +like vertical sails; opens her saw-toothed arm-pieces; in short, adopts +the spectral attitude which she employs when delivering battle. + +The Spider disregards these menaces. Spreading wide her spinnerets, she +pumps out sheets of silk which the hind-legs draw out, expand and fling +without stint in alternate armfuls. Under this shower of threads, the +Mantis' terrible saws, the lethal legs, quickly disappear from sight, as +do the wings, still erected in the spectral posture. + +Meanwhile, the swathed one gives sudden jerks, which make the Spider fall +out of her web. The accident is provided for. A safety-cord, emitted at +the same instant by the spinnerets, keeps the Epeira hanging, swinging in +space. When calm is restored, she packs her cord and climbs up again. +The heavy paunch and the hind-legs are now bound. The flow slackens, the +silk comes only in thin sheets. Fortunately, the business is done. The +prey is invisible under the thick shroud. + +The Spider retires without giving a bite. To master the terrible quarry, +she has spent the whole reserves of her spinning-mill, enough to weave +many good-sized webs. With this heap of shackles, further precautions +are superfluous. + +After a short rest in the centre of the net, she comes down to dinner. +Slight incisions are made in different parts of the prize, now here, now +there; and the Spider puts her mouth to each and sucks the blood of her +prey. The meal is long protracted, so rich is the dish. For ten hours, +I watch the insatiable glutton, who changes her point of attack as each +wound sucked dries up. Night comes and robs me of the finish of the +unbridled debauch. Next morning, the drained Mantis lies upon the +ground. The Ants are eagerly devouring the remains. + +The eminent talents of the Epeirae are displayed to even better purpose +in the industrial business of motherhood than in the art of the chase. +The silk bag, the nest, in which the Banded Epeira houses her eggs, is a +much greater marvel than the bird's nest. In shape, it is an inverted +balloon, nearly the size of a Pigeon's egg. The top tapers like a pear +and is cut short and crowned with a scalloped rim, the corners of which +are lengthened by means of moorings that fasten the object to the +adjoining twigs. The whole, a graceful ovoid, hangs straight down, amid +a few threads that steady it. + +The top is hollowed into a crater closed with a silky padding. Every +other part is contained in the general wrapper, formed of thick, compact +white satin, difficult to break and impervious to moisture. Brown and +even black silk, laid out in abroad ribbons, in spindle-shaped patterns, +in fanciful meridian waves, adorns the upper portion of the exterior. The +part played by this fabric is self-evident: it is a waterproof cover +which neither dew nor rain can penetrate. + +Exposed to all the inclemencies of the weather, among the dead grasses, +close to the ground, the Epeira's nest has also to protect its contents +from the winter cold. Let us cut the wrapper with our scissors. +Underneath, we find a thick layer of reddish-brown silk, not worked into +a fabric this time, but puffed into an extra-fine wadding. It is a +fleecy cloud, an incomparable quilt, softer than any swan's-down. This +is the screen set up against loss of heat. + +And what does this cosy mass protect? See: in the middle of the +eiderdown hangs a cylindrical pocket, round at the bottom, cut square at +the top and closed with a padded lid. It is made of extremely fine +satin; it contains the Epeira's eggs, pretty little orange-coloured +beads, which, glued together, form a globule the size of a pea. This is +the treasure to be defended against the asperities of the winter. + +Now that we know the structure of the work, let us try to see in what +manner the spinstress sets about it. The observation is not an easy one, +for the Banded Epeira is a night-worker. She needs nocturnal quiet in +order not to go astray amid the complicated rules that guide her +industry. Now and again, at very early hours in the morning, I have +happened to catch her working, which enables me to sum up the progress of +the operations. + +My subjects are busy in their bell-shaped cages, at about the middle of +August. A scaffolding is first run up, at the top of the dome; it +consists of a few stretched threads. The wire trellis represents the +twigs and the blades of grass which the Spider, if at liberty, would have +used as suspension-points. The loom works on this shaky support. The +Epeira does not see what she is doing; she turns her back on her task. +The machinery is so well put together that the whole thing goes +automatically. + +The tip of the abdomen sways, a little to the right, a little to the +left, rises and falls, while the Spider moves slowly round and round. The +thread paid out is single. The hind-legs draw it out and place it in +position on that which is already done. Thus is formed a satin +receptacle the rim of which is gradually raised until it becomes a bag +about a centimetre deep. {19} The texture is of the daintiest. Guy-ropes +bind it to the nearest threads and keep it stretched, especially at the +mouth. + +Then the spinnerets take a rest and the turn of the ovaries comes. A +continuous shower of eggs falls into the bag, which is filled to the top. +The capacity of the receptacle has been so nicely calculated that there +is room for all the eggs, without leaving any space unoccupied. When the +Spider has finished and retires, I catch a momentary glimpse of the heap +of orange-coloured eggs; but the work of the spinnerets is at once +resumed. + +The next business is to close the bag. The machinery works a little +differently. The tip of the belly no longer sways from side to side. It +sinks and touches a point; it retreats, sinks again and touches another +point, first here, then there, describing inextricable zigzags. At the +same time, the hind-legs tread the material emitted. The result is no +longer a stuff, but a felt, a blanketing. + +Around the satin capsule, which contains the eggs, is the eiderdown +destined to keep out the cold. The youngsters will bide for some time in +this soft shelter, to strengthen their joints and prepare for the final +exodus. It does not take long to make. The spinning-mill suddenly +alters the raw material: it was turning out white silk; it now furnishes +reddish-brown silk, finer than the other and issuing in clouds which the +hind-legs, those dexterous carders, beat into a sort of froth. The egg- +pocket disappears, drowned in this exquisite wadding. + +The balloon-shape is already outlined; the top of the work tapers to a +neck. The Spider, moving up and down, tacking first to one side and then +to the other, from the very first spray marks out the graceful form as +accurately as though she carried a compass in her abdomen. + +Then, once again, with the same suddenness, the material changes. The +white silk reappears, wrought into thread. This is the moment to weave +the outer wrapper. Because of the thickness of the stuff and the density +of its texture, this operation is the longest of the series. + +First, a few threads are flung out, hither and thither, to keep the layer +of wadding in position. The Epeira takes special pains with the edge of +the neck, where she fashions an indented border, the angles of which, +prolonged with cords or lines, form the main support of the building. The +spinnerets never touch this part without giving it, each time, until the +end of the work, a certain added solidity, necessary to secure the +stability of the balloon. The suspensory indentations soon outline a +crater which needs plugging. The Spider closes the bag with a padded +stopper similar to that with which she sealed the egg-pocket. + +When these arrangements are made, the real manufacture of the wrapper +begins. The Spider goes backwards and forwards, turns and turns again. +The spinnerets do not touch the fabric. With a rhythmical, alternate +movement, the hind-legs, the sole implements employed, draw the thread, +seize it in their combs and apply it to the work, while the tip of the +abdomen sways methodically to and fro. + +In this way, the silken fibre is distributed in an even zigzag, of almost +geometrical precision and comparable with that of the cotton thread which +the machines in our factories roll so neatly into balls. And this is +repeated all over the surface of the work, for the Spider shifts her +position a little at every moment. + +At fairly frequent intervals, the tip of the abdomen is lifted to the +mouth of the balloon; and then the spinnerets really touch the fringed +edge. The length of contact is even considerable. We find, therefore, +that the thread is stuck in this star-shaped fringe, the foundation of +the building and the crux of the whole, while every elsewhere it is +simply laid on, in a manner determined by the movements of the hind-legs. +If we wished to unwind the work, the thread would break at the margin; at +any other point, it would unroll. + +The Epeira ends her web with a dead-white, angular flourish; she ends her +nest with brown mouldings, which run down, irregularly, from the marginal +junction to the bulging middle. For this purpose, she makes use, for the +third time, of a different silk; she now produces silk of a dark hue, +varying from russet to black. The spinnerets distribute the material +with a wide longitudinal swing, from pole to pole; and the hind-legs +apply it in capricious ribbons. When this is done, the work is finished. +The Spider moves away with slow strides, without giving a glance at the +bag. The rest does not interest her: time and the sun will see to it. + +She felt her hour at hand and came down from her web. Near by, in the +rank grass, she wove the tabernacle of her offspring and, in so doing, +drained her resources. To resume her hunting-post, to return to her web +would be useless to her: she has not the wherewithal to bind the prey. +Besides, the fine appetite of former days has gone. Withered and +languid, she drags out her existence for a few days and, at last, dies. +This is how things happen in my cages; this is how they must happen in +the brushwood. + +The Silky Epeira (_Epeira sericea_, OLIV.) excels the Banded Epeira in +the manufacture of big hunting-nets, but she is less gifted in the art of +nest-building. She gives her nest the inelegant form of an obtuse cone. +The opening of this pocket is very wide and is scalloped into lobes by +which the edifice is slung. It is closed with a large lid, half satin, +half swan's-down. The rest is a stout white fabric, frequently covered +with irregular brown streaks. + +The difference between the work of the two Epeirae does not extend beyond +the wrapper, which is an obtuse cone in the one case and a balloon in the +other. The same internal arrangements prevail behind this frontage: +first, a flossy quilt; next, a little keg in which the eggs are packed. +Though the two Spiders build the outer wall according to special +architectural rules, they both employ the same means as a protection +against the cold. + +As we see, the egg-bag of the Epeirae, particularly that of the Banded +Epeira, is an important and complex work. Various materials enter into +its composition: white silk, red silk, brown silk; moreover, these +materials are worked into dissimilar products: stout cloth, soft +eiderdown, dainty satinette, porous felt. And all of this comes from the +same workshop that weaves the hunting-net, warps the zigzag ribbon-band +and casts an entangling shroud over the prey. + +What a wonderful silk-factory it is! With a very simple and +never-varying plant, consisting of the hind-legs and the spinnerets, it +produces, by turns, rope-maker's, spinner's, weaver's, ribbon-maker's and +fuller's work. How does the Spider direct an establishment of this kind? +How does she obtain, at will, skeins of diverse hues and grades? How +does she turn them out, first in this fashion, then in that? I see the +results, but I do not understand the machinery and still less the +process. It beats me altogether. + +The Spider also sometimes loses her head in her difficult trade, when +some trouble disturbs the peace of her nocturnal labours. I do not +provoke this trouble myself, for I am not present at those unseasonable +hours. It is simply due to the conditions prevailing in my menagerie. + +In their natural state, the Epeirae settle separately, at long distances +from one another. Each has her own hunting-grounds, where there is no +reason to fear the competition that would result from the close proximity +of the nets. In my cages, on the other hand, there is cohabitation. In +order to save space, I lodge two or three Epeirae in the same cage. My +easy-going captives live together in peace. There is no strife between +them, no encroaching on the neighbour's property. Each of them weaves +herself a rudimentary web, as far from the rest as possible, and here, +rapt in contemplation, as though indifferent to what the others are +doing, she awaits the hop of the Locust. + +Nevertheless, these close quarters have their drawbacks when laying-time +arrives. The cords by which the different establishments are hung +interlace and criss-cross in a confused network. When one of them +shakes, all the others are more or less affected. This is enough to +distract the layer from her business and to make her do silly things. +Here are two instances. + +A bag has been woven during the night. I find it, when I visit the cage +in the morning, hanging from the trellis-work and completed. It is +perfect, as regards structure; it is decorated with the regulation black +meridian curves. There is nothing missing, nothing except the essential +thing, the eggs, for which the spinstress has gone to such expense in the +matter of silks. Where are the eggs? They are not in the bag, which I +open and find empty. They are lying on the ground below, on the sand in +the pan, utterly unprotected. + +Disturbed at the moment of discharging them, the mother has missed the +mouth of the little bag and dropped them on the floor. Perhaps even, in +her excitement, she came down from above and, compelled by the exigencies +of the ovaries, laid her eggs on the first support that offered. No +matter: if her Spider brain contains the least gleam of sense, she must +be aware of the disaster and is therefore bound at once to abandon the +elaborate manufacture of a now superfluous nest. + +Not at all: the bag is woven around nothing, as accurate in shape, as +finished in structure as under normal conditions. The absurd +perseverance displayed by certain Bees, whose egg and provisions I used +to remove, {20} is here repeated without the slightest interference from +me. My victims used scrupulously to seal up their empty cells. In the +same way, the Epeira puts the eiderdown quilting and the taffeta wrapper +round a capsule that contains nothing. + +Another, distracted from her work by some startling vibration, leaves her +nest at the moment when the layer of red-brown wadding is being +completed. She flees to the dome, at a few inches above her unfinished +work, and spends upon a shapeless mattress, of no use whatever, all the +silk with which she would have woven the outer wrapper if nothing had +come to disturb her. + +Poor fool! You upholster the wires of your cage with swan's-down and you +leave the eggs imperfectly protected. The absence of the work already +executed and the hardness of the metal do not warn you that you are now +engaged upon a senseless task. You remind me of the Pelopaeus, {21} who +used to coat with mud the place on the wall whence her nest had been +removed. You speak to me, in your own fashion, of a strange psychology +which is able to reconcile the wonders of a master craftsmanship with +aberrations due to unfathomable stupidity. + +Let us compare the work of the Banded Epeira with that of the Penduline +Titmouse, the cleverest of our small birds in the art of nest-building. +This Tit haunts the osier-beds of the lower reaches of the Rhone. Rocking +gently in the river breeze, his nest sways pendent over the peaceful +backwaters, at some distance from the too-impetuous current. It hangs +from the drooping end of the branch of a poplar, an old willow or an +alder, all of them tall trees, favouring the banks of streams. + +It consists of a cotton bag, closed all round, save for a small opening +at the side, just sufficient to allow of the mother's passage. In shape, +it resembles the body of an alembic, a chemist's retort with a short +lateral neck, or, better still, the foot of a stocking, with the edges +brought together, but for a little round hole left at one side. The +outward appearances increase the likeness: one can almost see the traces +of a knitting-needle working with coarse stitches. That is why, struck +by this shape, the Provencal peasant, in his expressive language, calls +the Penduline _lou Debassaire_, the Stocking-knitter. + +The early-ripening seedlets of the widows and poplars furnish the +materials for the work. There breaks from them, in May, a sort of vernal +snow, a fine down, which the eddies of the air heap in the crevices of +the ground. It is a cotton similar to that of our manufactures, but of +very short staple. It comes from an inexhaustible warehouse: the tree is +bountiful; and the wind from the osier-beds gathers the tiny flocks as +they pour from the seeds. They are easy to pick up. + +The difficulty is to set to work. How does the bird proceed, in order to +knit its stocking? How, with such simple implements as its beak and +claws, does it manage to produce a fabric which our skilled fingers would +fail to achieve? An examination of the nest will inform us, to a certain +extent. + +The cotton of the poplar cannot, of itself, supply a hanging pocket +capable of supporting the weight of the brood and resisting the buffeting +of the wind. Rammed, entangled and packed together, the flocks, similar +to those which ordinary wadding would give if chopped up very fine, would +produce only an agglomeration devoid of cohesion and liable to be +dispelled by the first breath of air. They require a canvas, a warp, to +keep them in position. + +Tiny dead stalks, with fibrous barks, well softened by the action of +moisture and the air, furnish the Penduline with a coarse tow, not unlike +that of hemp. With these ligaments, purged of every woody particle and +tested for flexibility and tenacity, he winds a number of loops round the +end of the branch which he has selected as a support for his structure. + +It is not a very accurate piece of work. The loops run clumsily and +anyhow: some are slacker, others tighter; but, when all is said, it is +solid, which is the main point. Also, this fibrous sheath, the keystone +of the edifice, occupies a fair length of branch, which enables the +fastenings for the net to be multiplied. + +The several straps, after describing a certain number of turns, ravel out +at the ends and hang loose. After them come interlaced threads, greater +in number and finer in texture. In the tangled jumble occur what might +almost be described as weaver's knots. As far as one can judge by the +result alone, without having seen the bird at work, this is how the +canvas, the support of the cotton wall, is obtained. + +This warp, this inner framework, is obviously not constructed in its +entirety from the start; it goes on gradually, as the bird stuffs the +part above it with cotton. The wadding, picked up bit by bit from the +ground, is teazled by the bird's claws and inserted, all fleecy, into the +meshes of the canvas. The beak pushes it, the breast presses it, both +inside and out. The result is a soft felt a couple of inches thick. + +Near the top of the pouch, on one side, is contrived a narrow orifice, +tapering into a short neck. This is the kitchen-door. In order to pass +through it, the Penduline, small though he be, has to force the elastic +partition, which yields slightly and then contracts. Lastly, the house +is furnished with a mattress of first-quality cotton. Here lie from six +to eight white eggs, the size of a cherry-stone. + +Well, this wonderful nest is a barbarous casemate compared with that of +the Banded Epeira. As regards shape, this stocking-foot cannot be +mentioned in the same breath with the Spider's elegant and faultlessly- +rounded balloon. The fabric of mixed cotton and tow is a rustic frieze +beside the spinstress' satin; the suspension-straps are clumsy cables +compared with her delicate silk fastenings. Where shall we find in the +Penduline's mattress aught to vie with the Epeira's eiderdown, that +teazled russet gossamer? The Spider is superior to the bird in every +way, in so far as concerns her work. + +But, on her side, the Penduline is a more devoted mother. For weeks on +end, squatting at the bottom of her purse, she presses to her heart the +eggs, those little white pebbles from which the warmth of her body will +bring forth life. The Epeira knows not these softer passions. Without +bestowing a second glance an it, she abandons her nest to its fate, be it +good or ill. + + + + +CHAPTER III: THE NARBONNE LYCOSA + + +The Epeira, who displays such astonishing industry to give her eggs a +dwelling-house of incomparable perfection, becomes, after that, careless +of her family. For what reason? She lacks the time. She has to die +when the first cold comes, whereas the eggs are destined to pass the +winter in their downy snuggery. The desertion of the nest is inevitable, +owing to the very force of things. But, if the hatching were earlier and +took place in the Epeira's lifetime, I imagine that she would rival the +bird in devotion. + +So I gather from the analogy of _Thomisus onustus_, WALCK., a shapely +Spider who weaves no web, lies in wait for her prey and walks sideways, +after the manner of the Crab. I have spoken elsewhere {22} of her +encounters with the Domestic Bee, whom she jugulates by biting her in the +neck. + +Skilful in the prompt despatch of her prey, the little Crab Spider is no +less well-versed in the nesting art. I find her settled on a privet in +the enclosure. Here, in the heart of a cluster of flowers, the luxurious +creature plaits a little pocket of white satin, shaped like a wee +thimble. It is the receptacle for the eggs. A round, flat lid, of a +felted fabric, closes the mouth. + +Above this ceiling rises a dome of stretched threads and faded flowerets +which have fallen from the cluster. This is the watcher's belvedere, her +conning-tower. An opening, which is always free, gives access to this +post. + +Here the Spider remains on constant duty. She has thinned greatly since +she laid her eggs, has almost lost her corporation. At the least alarm, +she sallies forth, waves a threatening limb at the passing stranger and +invites him, with a gesture, to keep his distance. Having put the +intruder to flight, she quickly returns indoors. + +And what does she do in there, under her arch of withered flowers and +silk? Night and day, she shields the precious eggs with her poor body +spread out flat. Eating is neglected. No more lying in wait, no more +Bees drained to the last drop of blood. Motionless, rapt in meditation, +the Spider is in an incubating posture, in other words, she is sitting on +her eggs. Strictly speaking, the word 'incubating' means that and +nothing else. + +The brooding Hen is no more assiduous, but she is also a +heating-apparatus and, with the gentle warmth of her body, awakens the +germs to life. For the Spider, the heat of the sun suffices; and this +alone keeps me from saying that she 'broods.' + +For two or three weeks, more and more wrinkled by abstinence, the little +Spider never relaxes her position. Then comes the hatching. The +youngsters stretch a few threads in swing-like curves from twig to twig. +The tiny rope-dancers practise for some days in the sun; then they +disperse, each intent upon his own affairs. + +Let us now look at the watch-tower of the nest. The mother is still +there, but this time lifeless. The devoted creature has known the +delight of seeing her family born; she has assisted the weaklings through +the trap-door; and, when her duty was done, very gently she died. The +Hen does not reach this height of self-abnegation. + +Other Spiders do better still, as, for instance, the Narbonne Lycosa, or +Black-bellied Tarantula (_Lycosa narbonnensis_, WALCK.), whose prowess +has been described in an earlier chapter. The reader will remember her +burrow, her pit of a bottle-neck's width, dug in the pebbly soil beloved +by the lavender and the thyme. The mouth is rimmed by a bastion of +gravel and bits of wood cemented with silk. There is nothing else around +her dwelling: no web, no snares of any kind. + +From her inch-high turret, the Lycosa lies in wait for the passing +Locust. She gives a bound, pursues the prey and suddenly deprives it of +motion with a bite in the neck. The game is consumed on the spot, or +else in the lair; the insect's tough hide arouses no disgust. The sturdy +huntress is not a drinker of blood, like the Epeira; she needs solid +food, food that crackles between the jaws. She is like a Dog devouring +his bone. + +Would you care to bring her to the light of day from the depths of her +well? Insert a thin straw into the burrow and move it about. Uneasy as +to what is happening above, the recluse hastens to climb up and stops, in +a threatening attitude, at some distance from the orifice. You see her +eight eyes gleaming like diamonds in the dark; you see her powerful +poison-fangs yawning, ready to bite. He who is not accustomed to the +sight of this horror, rising from under the ground, cannot suppress a +shiver. B-r-r-r-r! Let us leave the beast alone. + +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. + +The obese Spider is gravely devouring something in the midst of a circle +of onlookers. And what? The remains of a Lycosa a little smaller than +herself, the remains of her male. It is the end of the tragedy that +concludes the nuptials. The sweetheart is eating her lover. I allow the +matrimonial rites to be fulfilled in all their horror; and, when the last +morsel of the unhappy wretch has been scrunched up, I incarcerate the +terrible matron under a cage standing in an earthen pan filled with sand. + +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 hardly concave paten, now no longer receives +aught 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. + +Inside, there is nothing but the eggs: no mattress, no soft eiderdown, +like that of the Epeirae. The Lycosa, indeed, has no need to guard her +eggs against the inclemencies of the winter, for the hatching will take +place long before the cold weather comes. Similarly, the Thomisus, with +her early brood, takes good care not to incur useless expenditure: she +gives her eggs, for their protection, a simple purse of satin. + +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. + +The Lycosa is a stay-at-home. She never goes out except to snap up some +game passing within her hunting-domains, near the burrow. At the end of +August, however, it is not unusual to meet her roaming about, dragging +her wallet behind her. Her hesitations make one think that she is +looking for her home, which she has left for the moment and has a +difficulty in finding. + +Why these rambles? There are two reasons: first the pairing and then the +making of the pill. There is a lack of space in the burrow, which +provides only room enough for the Spider engaged in long contemplation. +Now the preparations for the egg-bag require an extensive flooring, a +supporting framework about the size of one's hand, as my caged prisoner +has shown us. The Lycosa has not so much space at her disposal, in her +well; hence the necessity for coming out and working at her wallet in the +open air, doubtless in the quiet hours of the night. + +The meeting with the male seems likewise to demand an excursion. Running +the risk of being eaten alive, will he venture to plunge into his lady's +cave, into a lair whence flight would be impossible? It is very +doubtful. Prudence demands that matters should take place outside. Here +at least there is some chance of beating a hasty retreat which will +enable the rash swain to escape the attacks of his horrible bride. + +The interview in the open air lessens the danger without removing it +entirely. We had proof of this when we caught the Lycosa in the act of +devouring her lover aboveground, in a part of the enclosure which had +been broken for planting and which was therefore not suitable for the +Spider's establishment. The burrow must have been some way off; and the +meeting of the pair took place at the very spot of the tragic +catastrophe. Although he had a clear road, the male was not quick enough +in getting away and was duly eaten. + +After this cannibal orgy, does the Lycosa go back home? Perhaps not, for +a while. Besides, she would have to go out a second time, to manufacture +her pill on a level space of sufficient extent. + +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 sometimes meet 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 consequences beyond an ephemeral carting. When hatching-time +arrives, early in the case of the 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 enquiry, 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. + +We will leave the wallet-bearer alone; we know all that we want to know +about her poverty of intellect. Let us wait for the hatching, which +takes place in the first fortnight in September. As they come out of the +pill, the youngsters, to the number of about a couple of hundred, clamber +on the Spider's back and there sit motionless, jammed close together, +forming a sort of bark of mingled legs and paunches. The mother is +unrecognizable under this live mantilla. When the hatching is over, the +wallet is loosened from the spinnerets and cast aside as a worthless rag. + +The little ones are very good: none stirs none tries to get more room for +himself at his neighbours' expense. What are they doing there, so +quietly? They allow themselves to be carted about, like the young of the +Opossum. Whether she sit in long meditation at the bottom of her den, or +come to the orifice, in mild weather, to bask in the sun, the Lycosa +never throws off her great-coat of swarming youngsters until the fine +season comes. + +If, in the middle of winter, in January or February, I happen, out in the +fields, to ransack the Spider's dwelling, after the rain, snow and frost +have battered it and, as a rule, dismantled the bastion at the entrance, +I always find her at home, still full of vigour, still carrying her +family. This vehicular upbringing lasts five or six months at least, +without interruption. The celebrated American carrier, the Opossum, who +emancipates her offspring after a few weeks' carting, cuts a poor figure +beside the Lycosa. + +What do the little ones eat, on the maternal spine? Nothing, so far as I +know. I do not see them grow larger. I find them, at the tardy period +of their emancipation, just as they were when they left the bag. + +During the bad season, the mother herself is extremely abstemious. At +long intervals, she accepts, in my jars, a belated Locust, whom I have +captured, for her benefit, in the sunnier nooks. In order to keep +herself in condition, as when she is dug up in the course of my winter +excavations, she must therefore sometimes break her fast and come out in +search of prey, without, of course, discarding her live mantilla. + +The expedition has its dangers. The youngsters may be brushed off by a +blade of grass. What becomes of them when they have a fall? Does the +mother give them a thought? Does she come to their assistance and help +them to regain their place on her back? Not at all. The affection of a +Spider's heart, divided among some hundreds, can spare but a very feeble +portion to each. The Lycosa hardly troubles, whether one youngster fall +from his place, or six, or all of them. She waits impassively for the +victims of the mishap to get out of their own difficulty, which they do, +for that matter, and very nimbly. + +I sweep the whole family from the back of one of my boarders with a hair- +pencil. Not a sign of emotion, not an attempt at search on the part of +the denuded one. After trotting about a little on the sand, the +dislodged youngsters find, these here, those there, one or other of the +mother's legs, spread wide in a circle. By means of these +climbing-poles, they swarm to the top and soon the dorsal group resumes +its original form. Not one of the lot is missing. The Lycosa's sons +know their trade as acrobats to perfection: the mother need not trouble +her head about their fall. + +With a sweep of the pencil, I make the family of one Spider fall around +another laden with her own family. The dislodged ones nimbly scramble up +the legs and climb on the back of their new mother, who kindly allows +them to behave as though they belonged to her. There is no room on the +abdomen, the regulation resting-place, which is already occupied by the +real sons. The invaders thereupon encamp on the front part, beset the +thorax and change the carrier into a horrible pin-cushion that no longer +bears the least resemblance to a Spider form. Meanwhile, the sufferer +raises no sort of protest against this access of family. She placidly +accepts them all and walks them all about. + +The youngsters, on their side, are unable to distinguish between what is +permitted and forbidden. Remarkable acrobats that they are, they climb +on the first Spider that comes along, even when of a different species, +provided that she be of a fair size. I place them in the presence of a +big Epeira marked with a white cross on a pale-orange ground (_Epeira +pallida_, OLIV.). The little ones, as soon as they are dislodged from +the back of the Lycosa their mother, clamber up the stranger without +hesitation. + +Intolerant of these familiarities, the Spider shakes the leg encroached +upon and flings the intruders to a distance. The assault is doggedly +resumed, to such good purpose that a dozen succeed in hoisting themselves +to the top. The Epeira, who is not accustomed to the tickling of such a +load, turns over on her back and rolls on the ground in the manner of a +donkey when his hide is itching. Some are lamed, some are even crushed. +This does not deter the others, who repeat the escalade as soon as the +Epeira is on her legs again. Then come more somersaults, more rollings +on the back, until the giddy swarm are all discomfited and leave the +Spider in peace. + + + + +CHAPTER IV: THE NARBONNE LYCOSA: THE BURROW + + +Michelet {23} has told us how, as a printer's apprentice in a cellar, he +established amicable relations with a Spider. 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 take her share of +the sunshine on the edge of the case. 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 typesetter'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. + +I will therefore once more take up the story of the Spider's instinct, a +story of which the preceding chapters have given but a very rough idea. +Since I wrote those earlier essays, my field of observation has been +greatly extended. My notes have been enriched by new and most remarkable +facts. It is right that I should employ them for the purpose of a more +detailed biography. + +The exigencies of order and clearness expose me, it is true, to +occasional repetitions. This is inevitable when one has to marshal in an +harmonious whole a thousand items culled from day to day, often +unexpectedly, and bearing no relation one to the other. The observer is +not master of his time; opportunity leads him and by unsuspected ways. A +certain question suggested by an earlier fact finds no reply until many +years after. Its scope, moreover, is amplified and completed with views +collected on the road. In a work, therefore, of this fragmentary +character, repetitions, necessary for the due co-ordination of ideas, are +inevitable. I shall be as sparing of them as I can. + +Let us once more introduce our old friends the Epeira and the Lycosa, who +are the most important Spiders in my district. The Narbonne Lycosa, or +Black-bellied Tarantula, chooses her domicile in the waste, pebbly lands +beloved of the thyme. Her dwelling, a fortress rather than a villa, is a +burrow about nine inches deep and as wide as the neck of a claret-bottle. +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. + +A silk coating, but a scanty one, for the Lycosa has not the wealth of +silk possessed by the Weaving Spiders, lines the walls of the tube and +keeps the loose earth from falling. This plaster, which cements the +incohesive and smooths the rugged parts, is reserved more particularly +for the top of the gallery, near the mouth. Here, in the daytime, if +things be peaceful all around, the Lycosa stations herself, either to +enjoy the warmth of the sun, her great delight, or to lie in wait for +game. The threads of the silk lining afford a firm hold to the claws on +every side, whether the object be to sit motionless for hours, revelling +in the light and heat, or to pounce upon the passing prey. + +Around the orifice of the burrow rises, to a greater or lesser height, a +circular parapet, formed of tiny pebbles, twigs and straps borrowed from +the dry leaves of the neighbouring grasses, all more or less dexterously +tied together and cemented with silk. This work of rustic architecture +is never missing, even though it be no more than a mere pad. + +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 demands 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 animal, which 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-coloured +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. + +This art is akin to another, from which it is apparently derived. If the +sun be fierce or if rain threaten, the Lycosa closes the entrance to her +dwelling with a silken trellis-work, wherein she embeds different +matters, often the remnants of victims which she has devoured. The +ancient Gael nailed the heads of his vanquished enemies to the door of +his hut. In the same way, the fierce Spider sticks the skulls of her +prey into the lid of her cave. These lumps look very well on the ogre's +roof; but we must be careful not to mistake them for warlike trophies. +The animal knows nothing of our barbarous bravado. Everything at the +threshold of the burrow is used indiscriminately: fragments of Locust, +vegetable remains and especially particles of earth. A Dragon-fly's head +baked by the sun is as good as a bit of gravel and no better. + +And so, with silk and all sorts of tiny materials, the Lycosa builds a +lidded cap to the entrance of her home. I am not well acquainted with +the reasons that prompt her to barricade herself indoors, particularly as +the seclusion is only temporary and varies greatly in duration. I obtain +precise details from a tribe of Lycosae wherewith the enclosure, as will +be seen later, happens to be thronged in consequence of my investigations +into the dispersal of the family. + +At the time of the tropical August heat, I see my Lycosae, now this +batch, now that, building, at the entrance to the burrow, a convex +ceiling, which is difficult to distinguish from the surrounding soil. Can +it be to protect themselves from the too-vivid light? This is doubtful; +for, a few days later, though the power of the sun remain the same, the +roof is broken open and the Spider reappears at her door, where she +revels in the torrid heat of the dog-days. + +Later, when October comes, if it be rainy weather, she retires once more +under a roof, as though she were guarding herself against the damp. Let +us not be too positive of anything, however: often, when it is raining +hard, the Spider bursts her ceiling and leaves her house open to the +skies. + +Perhaps the lid is only put on for serious domestic events, notably for +the laying. I do, in fact, perceive young Lycosae who shut themselves in +before they have attained the dignity of motherhood and who reappear, +some time later, with the bag containing the eggs hung to their stern. +The inference that they close the door with the object of securing +greater quiet while spinning the maternal cocoon would not be in keeping +with the unconcern displayed by the majority. I find some who lay their +eggs in an open burrow; I come upon some who weave their cocoon and cram +it with eggs in the open air, before they even own a residence. In +short, I do not succeed in fathoming the reasons that cause the burrow to +be closed, no matter what the weather, hot or cold, wet or dry. + +The fact remains that the lid is broken and repaired repeatedly, +sometimes on the same day. In spite of the earthy casing, the silk woof +gives it the requisite pliancy to cleave when pushed by the anchorite and +to rip open without falling into ruins. Swept back to the circumference +of the mouth and increased by the wreckage of further ceilings, it +becomes a parapet, which the Lycosa raises by degrees in her long moments +of leisure. The bastion which surmounts the burrow, therefore, takes its +origin from the temporary lid. The turret derives from the split +ceiling. + +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. + +In her youth, before she has a burrow, the Lycosa earns her living in +another manner. Clad in grey like her elders, but without the +black-velvet apron which she receives on attaining the marriageable age, +she roams among the scrubby grass. This is true hunting. Should a +suitable quarry heave in sight, the Spider pursues it, drives it from its +shelters, follows it hot-foot. The fugitive gains the heights, makes as +though to fly away. He has not the time. With an upward leap, the +Lycosa grabs him before he can rise. + +I am charmed with the agility wherewith my yearling boarders seize the +Flies which I provide for them. In vain does the Fly take refuge a +couple of inches up, on some blade of grass. With a sudden spring into +the air, the Spider pounces on the prey. No Cat is quicker in catching +her Mouse. + +But these are the feats of youth not handicapped by obesity. Later, when +a heavy paunch, dilated with eggs and silk, has to be trailed along, +those gymnastic performances become impracticable. The Lycosa then digs +herself a settled abode, a hunting-box, and sits in her watch-tower, on +the look-out for game. + +When and how is the burrow obtained wherein the Lycosa, once a vagrant, +now a stay-at-home, is to spend the remainder of her long life? We are +in autumn, the weather is already turning cool. This is how the Field +Cricket sets to work: as long as the days are fine and the nights not too +cold, the future chorister of spring rambles over the fallows, careless +of a local habitation. At critical moments, the cover of a dead leaf +provides him with a temporary shelter. In the end, the burrow, the +permanent dwelling, is dug as the inclement season draws nigh. + +The Lycosa shares the Cricket's views: like him, she finds a thousand +pleasures in the vagabond life. With September comes the nuptial badge, +the black-velvet bib. The Spiders meet at night, by the soft moonlight: +they romp together, they eat the beloved shortly after the wedding; by +day, they scour the country, they track the game on the short-pile, +grassy carpet, they take their fill of the joys of the sun. That is much +better than solitary meditation at the bottom of a well. And so it is +not rare to see young mothers dragging their bag of eggs, or even already +carrying their family, and as yet without a home. + +In October, it is time to settle down. We then, in fact, find two sorts +of burrows, which differ in diameter. The larger, bottle-neck burrows +belong to the old matrons, who have owned their house for two years at +least. The smaller, of the width of a thick lead-pencil, contain the +young mothers, born that year. By dint of long and leisurely +alterations, the novice's earths will increase in depth as well as in +diameter and become roomy abodes, similar to those of the grandmothers. +In both, we find the owner and her family, the latter sometimes already +hatched and sometimes still enclosed in the satin wallet. + +Seeing no digging-tools, such as the excavation of the dwelling seemed to +me to require, I wondered whether the Lycosa might not avail herself of +some chance gallery, the work of the Cicada or the Earth-worm. This +ready-made tunnel, thought I, must shorten the labours of the Spider, who +appears to be so badly off for tools; she would only have to enlarge it +and put it in order. I was wrong: the burrow is excavated, from start to +finish, by her unaided labour. + +Then where are the digging-implements? We think of the legs, of the +claws. We think of them, but reflection tells us that tools such as +these would not do: they are too long and too difficult to wield in a +confined space. What is required is the miner's short-handled pick, +wherewith to drive hard, to insert, to lever and to extract; what is +required is the sharp point that enters the earth and crumbles it into +fragments. There remain the Lycosa's fangs, delicate weapons which we at +first hesitate to associate with such work, so illogical does it seem to +dig a pit with surgeon's scalpels. + +The fangs are a pair of sharp, curved points, which, when at rest, crook +like a finger and take shelter between two strong pillars. The Cat +sheathes her claws under the velvet of the paw, to preserve their edge +and sharpness. In the same way, the Lycosa protects her poisoned daggers +by folding them within the case of two powerful columns, which come plumb +on the surface and contain the muscles that work them. + +Well, this surgical outfit, intended for stabbing the jugular artery of +the prey, suddenly becomes a pick-axe and does rough navvy's work. To +witness the underground digging is impossible; but we can, at least, with +the exercise of a little patience, see the rubbish carted away. If I +watch my captives, without tiring, at a very early hour--for the work +takes place mostly at night and at long intervals--in the end I catch +them coming up with a load. Contrary to what I expected, the legs take +no part in the carting. It is the mouth that acts as the barrow. A tiny +ball of earth is held between the fangs and is supported by the palpi, or +feelers, which are little arms employed in the service of the +mouth-parts. The Lycosa descends cautiously from her turret, goes to +some distance to get rid of her burden and quickly dives down again to +bring up more. + +We have seen enough: we know that the Lycosa's fangs, those lethal +weapons, are not afraid to bite into clay and gravel. They knead the +excavated rubbish into pellets, take up the mass of earth and carry it +outside. The rest follows naturally; it is the fangs that dig, delve and +extract. How finely-tempered they must be, not to be blunted by this +well-sinker's work and to do duty presently in the surgical operation of +stabbing the neck! + +I have said that the repairs and extensions of the burrow are made at +long intervals. From time to time, the circular parapet receives +additions and becomes a little higher; less frequently still, the +dwelling is enlarged and deepened. As a rule, the mansion remains as it +was for a whole season. Towards the end of winter, in March more than at +any other period, the Lycosa seems to wish to give herself a little more +space. This is the moment to subject her to certain tests. + +We know that the Field Cricket, when removed from his burrow and caged +under conditions that would allow him to dig himself a new home should +the fit seize him, prefers to tramp from one casual shelter to another, +or rather abandons every idea of creating a permanent residence. There +is a short season whereat the instinct for building a subterranean +gallery is imperatively aroused. When this season is past, the +excavating artist, if accidentally deprived of his abode, becomes a +wandering Bohemian, careless of a lodging. He has forgotten his talents +and he sleeps out. + +That the bird, the nest-builder, should neglect its art when it has no +brood to care for is perfectly logical: it builds for its family, not for +itself. But what shall we say of the Cricket, who is exposed to a +thousand mishaps when away from home? The protection of a roof would be +of great use to him; and the giddy-pate does not give it a thought, +though he is very strong and more capable than ever of digging with his +powerful jaws. + +What reason can we allege for this neglect? None, unless it be that the +season of strenuous burrowing is past. The instincts have a calendar of +their own. At the given hour, suddenly they awaken; as suddenly, +afterwards, they fall asleep. The ingenious become incompetent when the +prescribed period is ended. + +On a subject of this kind, we can consult the Spider of the waste-lands. +I catch an old Lycosa in the fields and house her, that same day, under +wire, in a burrow where I have prepared a soil to her liking. If, by my +contrivances and with a bit of reed, I have previously moulded a burrow +roughly representing the one from which I took her, the Spider enters it +forthwith and seems pleased with her new residence. The product of my +art is accepted as her lawful property and undergoes hardly any +alterations. In course of time, a bastion is erected around the orifice; +the top of the gallery is cemented with silk; and that is all. In this +establishment of my building, the animal's behaviour remains what it +would be under natural conditions. + +But place the Lycosa on the surface of the ground, without first shaping +a burrow. What will the homeless Spider do? Dig herself a dwelling, one +would think. She has the strength to do so; she is in the prime of life. +Besides, the soil is similar to that whence I ousted her and suits the +operation perfectly. We therefore expect to see the Spider settled +before long in a shaft of her own construction. + +We are disappointed. Weeks pass and not an effort is made, not one. +Demoralized by the absence of an ambush, the Lycosa hardly vouchsafes a +glance at the game which I serve up. The Crickets pass within her reach +in vain; most often she scorns them. She slowly wastes away with fasting +and boredom. At length, she dies. + +Take up your miner's trade again, poor fool! Make yourself a home, since +you know how to, and life will be sweet to you for many a long day yet: +the weather is fine and victuals plentiful. Dig, delve, go underground, +where safety lies. Like an idiot, you refrain; and you perish. Why? + +Because the craft which you were wont to ply is forgotten; because the +days of patient digging are past and your poor brain is unable to work +back. To do a second time what has been done already is beyond your wit. +For all your meditative air, you cannot solve the problem of how to +reconstruct that which is vanished and gone. + +Let us now see what we can do with younger Lycosae, who are at the +burrowing-stage. I dig out five or six at the end of February. They are +half the size of the old ones; their burrows are equal in diameter to my +little finger. Rubbish quite fresh-spread around the pit bears witness +to the recent date of the excavations. + +Relegated to their wire cages, these young Lycosae behave differently +according as the soil placed at their disposal is or is not already +provided with a burrow made by me. A burrow is hardly the word: I give +them but the nucleus of a shaft, about an inch deep, to lure them on. +When in possession of this rudimentary lair, the Spider does not hesitate +to pursue the work which I have interrupted in the fields. At night, she +digs with a will. I can see this by the heap of rubbish flung aside. She +at last obtains a house to suit her, a house surmounted by the usual +turret. + +The others, on the contrary, those Spiders for whom the thrust of my +pencil has not contrived an entrance-hall representing, to a certain +extent, the natural gallery whence I dislodged them, absolutely refuse to +work; and they die, notwithstanding the abundance of provisions. + +The first pursue the season's task. They were digging when I caught +them; and, carried away by the enthusiasm of their activity, they go on +digging inside my cages. Taken in by my decoy-shaft, they deepen the +imprint of the pencil as though they were deepening their real vestibule. +They do not begin their labours over again; they continue them. + +The second, not having this inducement, this semblance of a burrow +mistaken for their own work, forsake the idea of digging and allow +themselves to die, because they would have to travel back along the chain +of actions and to resume the pick-strokes of the start. To begin all +over again requires reflection, a quality wherewith they are not endowed. + +To the insect--and we have seen this in many earlier cases--what is done +is done and cannot be taken up again. The hands of a watch do not move +backwards. The insect behaves in much the same way. Its activity urges +it in one direction, ever forwards, without allowing it to retrace its +steps, even when an accident makes this necessary. + +What the Mason-bees and the others taught us erewhile the Lycosa now +confirms in her manner. Incapable of taking fresh pains to build herself +a second dwelling, when the first is done for, she will go on the tramp, +she will break into a neighbour's house, she will run the risk of being +eaten should she not prove the stronger, but she will never think of +making herself a home by starting afresh. + +What a strange intellect is that of the animal, a mixture of mechanical +routine and subtle brain-power! Does it contain gleams that contrive, +wishes that pursue a definite object? Following in the wake of so many +others, the Lycosa warrants us in entertaining a doubt. + + + + +CHAPTER V: THE NARBONNE LYCOSA: 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 third chapter of this volume, 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 +returns 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 pill rips open along the middle +fold. We read of the origin of this fold in an earlier chapter. {24} +Does the mother, feeling the brood quicken inside the satin wrapper, +herself break open the vessel at the opportune moment? It seems +probable. On the other hand, there may be a spontaneous bursting, such +as we shall see later in the Banded Epeira's balloon, a tough wallet +which opens a breach of its own accord, long after the mother has ceased +to exist. + +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 elsewhence. There is no question here of real maternal affection. + +I have described elsewhere the prowess of the Copris {25} 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 to them attentively and enquires by ear into each +nursling'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 overburdened 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 +posession 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 +beastie'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, although 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 beastie 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 food-stuffs. 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 would 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 returned 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. It is repeated in the same way daily, if the weather be mild, until +the hour of emancipation comes, followed by the first mouthfuls of solid +food. + + + + +CHAPTER VI: THE NARBONNE LYCOSA: THE CLIMBING-INSTINCT + + +The month of March comes to an end; and the departure of the youngsters +begins, in glorious weather, during the hottest hours of the morning. +Laden with her swarming burden, the mother Lycosa is outside her burrow, +squatting on the parapet at the entrance. She lets them do as they +please; as though indifferent to what is happening, she exhibits neither +encouragement nor regret. Whoso will goes; whoso will remains behind. + +First these, then those, according as they feel themselves duly soaked +with sunshine, the little ones leave the mother in batches, run about for +a moment on the ground and then quickly reach the trellis-work of the +cage, which they climb with surprising alacrity. They pass through the +meshes, they clamber right to the top of the citadel. All, with not one +exception, make for the heights, instead of roaming on the ground, as +might reasonably be expected from the eminently earthly habits of the +Lycosae; all ascend the dome, a strange procedure whereof I do not yet +guess the object. + +I receive a hint from the upright ring that finishes the top of the cage. +The youngsters hurry to it. It represents the porch of their gymnasium. +They hang out threads across the opening; they stretch others from the +ring to the nearest points of the trellis-work. On these foot-bridges, +they perform slack-rope exercises amid endless comings and goings. The +tiny legs open out from time to time and straddle as though to reach the +most distant points. I begin to realize that they are acrobats aiming at +loftier heights than those of the dome. + +I top the trellis with a branch that doubles the attainable height. The +bustling crowd hastily scrambles up it, reaches the tip of the topmost +twigs and thence sends out threads that attach themselves to every +surrounding object. These form so many suspension-bridges; and my +beasties nimbly run along them, incessantly passing to and fro. One +would say that they wished to climb higher still. I will endeavour to +satisfy their desires. + +I take a nine-foot reed, with tiny branches spreading right up to the +top, and place it above the cage. The little Lycosae clamber to the very +summit. Here, longer threads are produced from the rope-yard and are now +left to float, anon converted into bridges by the mere contact of the +free end with the neighbouring supports. The rope-dancers embark upon +them and form garlands which the least breath of air swings daintily. The +thread is invisible when it does not come between the eyes and the sun; +and the whole suggests rows of Gnats dancing an aerial ballet. + +Then, suddenly, teased by the air-currents, the delicate mooring breaks +and flies through space. Behold the emigrants off and away, clinging to +their thread. If the wind be favourable, they can land at great +distances. Their departure is thus continued for a week or two, in bands +more or less numerous, according to the temperature and the brightness of +the day. If the sky be overcast, none dreams of leaving. The travellers +need the kisses of the sun, which give energy and vigour. + +At last, the whole family has disappeared, carried afar by its flying- +ropes. The mother remains alone. The loss of her offspring hardly seems +to distress her. She retains her usual colour and plumpness, which is a +sign that the maternal exertions have not been too much for her. + +I also notice an increased fervour in the chase. While burdened with her +family, she was remarkably abstemious, accepting only with great reserve +the game placed at her disposal. The coldness of the season may have +militated against copious refections; perhaps also the weight of the +little ones hampered her movements and made her more discreet in +attacking the prey. + +To-day, cheered by the fine weather and able to move freely, she hurries +up from her lair each time I set a tit-bit to her liking buzzing at the +entrance to her burrow; she comes and takes from my fingers the savoury +Locust, the portly Anoxia; {26} and this performance is repeated daily, +whenever I have the leisure to devote to it. After a frugal winter, the +time has come for plentiful repasts. + +This appetite tells us that the animal is not at the point of death; one +does not feast in this way with a played-out stomach. My boarders are +entering in full vigour upon their fourth year. In the winter, in the +fields, I used to find large mothers, carting their young, and others not +much more than half their size. The whole series, therefore, represented +three generations. And now, in my earthenware pans, after the departure +of the family, the old matrons still carry on and continue as strong as +ever. Every outward appearance tells us that, after becoming +great-grandmothers, they still keep themselves fit for propagating their +species. + +The facts correspond with these anticipations. When September returns, +my captives are dragging a bag as bulky as that of last year. For a long +time, even when the eggs of the others have been hatched for some weeks +past, the mothers come daily to the threshold of the burrow and hold out +their wallets for incubation by the sun. Their perseverance is not +rewarded: nothing issues from the satin purse; nothing stirs within. Why? +Because, in the prison of my cages, the eggs have had no father. Tired +of waiting and at last recognizing the barrenness of their produce, they +push the bag of eggs outside the burrow and trouble about it no more. At +the return of spring, by which time the family, if developed according to +rule, would have been emancipated, they die. The mighty Spider of the +waste-lands, therefore, attains to an even more patriarchal age than her +neighbour the Sacred Beetle: {27} she lives for five years at the very +least. + +Let us leave the mothers to their business and return to the youngsters. +It is not without a certain surprise that we see the little Lycosae, at +the first moment of their emancipation, hasten to ascend the heights. +Destined to live on the ground, amidst the short grass, and afterwards to +settle in the permanent abode, a pit, they start by being enthusiastic +acrobats. Before descending to the low levels, their normal dwelling- +place, they affect lofty altitudes. + +To rise higher and ever higher is their first need. I have not, it +seems, exhausted the limit of their climbing-instinct even with a nine- +foot pole, suitably furnished with branches to facilitate the escalade. +Those who have eagerly reached the very top wave their legs, fumble in +space as though for yet higher stalks. It behoves us to begin again and +under better conditions. + +Although the Narbonne Lycosa, with her temporary yearning for the +heights, is more interesting than other Spiders, by reason of the fact +that her usual habitation is underground, she is not so striking at +swarming-time, because the youngsters, instead of all migrating at once, +leave the mother at different periods and in small batches. The sight +will be a finer one with the common Garden or Cross Spider, the Diadem +Epeira (_Epeira diadema_, LIN.), decorated with three white crosses on +her back. + +She lays her eggs in November and dies with the first cold snap. She is +denied the Lycosa's longevity. She leaves the natal wallet early one +spring and never sees the following spring. This wallet, which contains +the eggs, has none of the ingenious structure which we admired in the +Banded and in the Silky Epeira. No longer do we see a graceful balloon- +shape nor yet a paraboloid with a starry base; no longer a tough, +waterproof satin stuff; no longer a swan's-down resembling a fleecy, +russet cloud; no longer an inner keg in which the eggs are packed. The +art of stout fabrics and of walls within walls is unknown here. + +The work of the Cross Spider is a pill of white silk, wrought into a +yielding felt, through which the new-born Spiders will easily work their +way, without the aid of the mother, long since dead, and without having +to rely upon its bursting at the given hour. It is about the size of a +damson. + +We can judge the method of manufacture from the structure. Like the +Lycosa, whom we saw, in Chapter III., at work in one of my earthenware +pans, the Cross Spider, on the support supplied by a few threads +stretched between the nearest objects, begins by making a shallow saucer +of sufficient thickness to dispense with subsequent corrections. The +process is easily guessed. The tip of the abdomen goes up and down, down +and up with an even beat, while the worker shifts her place a little. +Each time, the spinnerets add a bit of thread to the carpet already made. + +When the requisite thickness is obtained, the mother empties her ovaries, +in one continuous flow, into the centre of the bowl. Glued together by +their inherent moisture, the eggs, of a handsome orange-yellow, form a +ball-shaped heap. The work of the spinnerets is resumed. The ball of +germs is covered with a silk cap, fashioned in the same way as the +saucer. The two halves of the work are so well joined that the whole +constitutes an unbroken sphere. + +The Banded Epeira and the Silky Epeira, those experts in the manufacture +of rainproof textures, lay their eggs high up, on brushwood and bramble, +without shelter of any kind. The thick material of the wallets is enough +to protect the eggs from the inclemencies of the winter, especially from +damp. The Diadem Epeira, or Cross Spider, needs a cranny for hers, which +is contained in a non-waterproof felt. In a heap of stones, well exposed +to the sun, she will choose a large slab to serve as a roof. She lodges +her pill underneath it, in the company of the hibernating Snail. + +More often still, she prefers the thick tangle of some dwarf shrub, +standing eight or nine inches high and retaining its leaves in winter. In +the absence of anything better, a tuft of grass answers the purpose. +Whatever the hiding-place, the bag of eggs is always near the ground, +tucked away as well as may be, amid the surrounding twigs. + +Save in the case of the roof supplied by a large stone, we see that the +site selected hardly satisfies proper hygienic needs. The Epeira seems +to realize this fact. By way of an additional protection, even under a +stone, she never fails to make a thatched roof for her eggs. She builds +them a covering with bits of fine, dry grass, joined together with a +little silk. The abode of the eggs becomes a straw wigwam. + +Good luck procures me two Cross Spiders' nests, on the edge of one of the +paths in the enclosure, among some tufts of ground-cypress, or lavender- +cotton. This is just what I wanted for my plans. The find is all the +more valuable as the period of the exodus is near at hand. + +I prepare two lengths of bamboo, standing about fifteen feet high and +clustered with little twigs from top to bottom. I plant one of them +straight up in the tuft, beside the first nest. I clear the surrounding +ground, because the bushy vegetation might easily, thanks to threads +carried by the wind, divert the emigrants from the road which I have laid +out for them. The other bamboo I set up in the middle of the yard, all +by itself, some few steps from any outstanding object. The second nest +is removed as it is, shrub and all, and placed at the bottom of the tall, +ragged distaff. + +The events expected are not long in coming. In the first fortnight in +May, a little earlier in one case, a little later in the other, the two +families, each presented with a bamboo climbing-pole, leave their +respective wallets. There is nothing remarkable about the mode of +egress. The precincts to be crossed consist of a very slack net-work, +through which the outcomers wriggle: weak little orange-yellow beasties, +with a triangular black patch upon their sterns. One morning is long +enough for the whole family to make its appearance. + +By degrees, the emancipated youngsters climb the nearest twigs, clamber +to the top, and spread a few threads. Soon, they gather in a compact, +ball-shaped cluster, the size of a walnut. They remain motionless. With +their heads plunged into the heap and their sterns projecting, they doze +gently, mellowing under the kisses of the sun. Rich in the possession of +a thread in their belly as their sole inheritance, they prepare to +disperse over the wide world. + +Let us create a disturbance among the globular group by stirring it with +a straw. All wake up at once. The cluster softly dilates and spreads, +as though set in motion by some centrifugal force; it becomes a +transparent orb wherein thousands and thousands of tiny legs quiver and +shake, while threads are extended along the way to be followed. The +whole work resolves itself into a delicate veil which swallows up the +scattered family. We then see an exquisite nebula against whose +opalescent tapestry the tiny animals gleam like twinkling orange stars. + +This straggling state, though it last for hours, is but temporary. If +the air grow cooler, if rain threaten, the spherical group reforms at +once. This is a protective measure. On the morning after a shower, I +find the families on either bamboo in as good condition as on the day +before. The silk veil and the pill formation have sheltered them well +enough from the downpour. Even so do Sheep, when caught in a storm in +the pastures, gather close, huddle together and make a common rampart of +their backs. + +The assembly into a ball-shaped mass is also the rule in calm, bright +weather, after the morning's exertions. In the afternoon, the climbers +collect at a higher point, where they weave a wide, conical tent, with +the end of a shoot for its top, and, gathered into a compact group, spend +the night there. Next day, when the heat returns, the ascent is resumed +in long files, following the shrouds which a few pioneers have rigged and +which those who come after elaborate with their own work. + +Collected nightly into a globular troop and sheltered under a fresh tent, +for three or four days, each morning, before the sun grows too hot, my +little emigrants thus raise themselves, stage by stage, on both bamboos, +until they reach the sun-unit, at fifteen feet above the ground. The +climb comes to an end for lack of foothold. + +Under normal conditions, the ascent would be shorter. The young Spiders +have at their disposal the bushes, the brushwood, providing supports on +every side for the threads wafted hither and thither by the eddying air- +currents. With these rope-bridges flung across space, the dispersal +presents no difficulties. Each emigrant leaves at his own good time and +travels as suits him best. + +My devices have changed these conditions somewhat. My two bristling +poles stand at a distance from the surrounding shrubs, especially the one +which I planted in the middle of the yard. Bridges are out of the +question, for the threads flung into the air are not long enough. And so +the acrobats, eager to get away, keep on climbing, never come down again, +are impelled to seek in a higher position what they have failed to find +in a lower. The top of my two bamboos probably fails to represent the +limit of what my keen climbers are capable of achieving. + +We shall see, in a moment, the object of this climbing-propensity, which +is a sufficiently remarkable instinct in the Garden Spiders, who have as +their domain the low-growing brushwood wherein their nets are spread; it +becomes a still more remarkable instinct in the Lycosa, who, except at +the moment when she leaves her mother's back, never quits the ground and +yet, in the early hours of her life, shows herself as ardent a wooer of +high places as the young Garden Spiders. + +Let us consider the Lycosa in particular. In her, at the moment of the +exodus, a sudden instinct arises, to disappear, as promptly and for ever, +a few hours later. This is the climbing-instinct, which is unknown to +the adult and soon forgotten by the emancipated youngling, doomed to +wander homeless, for many a long day, upon the ground. Neither of them +dreams of climbing to the top of a grass-stalk. The full-grown Spider +hunts trapper-fashion, ambushed in her tower; the young one hunts afoot +through the scrubby grass. In both cases there is no web and therefore +no need for lofty contact-points. They are not allowed to quit the +ground and climb the heights. + +Yet here we have the young Lycosa, wishing to leave the maternal abode +and to travel far afield by the easiest and swiftest methods, suddenly +becoming an enthusiastic climber. Impetuously she scales the wire +trellis of the cage where she was born; hurriedly she clambers to the top +of the tall mast which I have prepared for her. In the same way, she +would make for the summit of the bushes in her waste-land. + +We catch a glimpse of her object. From on high, finding a wide space +beneath her, she sends a thread floating. It is caught by the wind and +carries her hanging to it. We have our aeroplanes; she too possesses her +flying-machine. Once the journey is accomplished, naught remains of this +ingenious business. The climbing-instinct conies suddenly, at the hour +of need, and no less suddenly vanishes. + + + + +CHAPTER VII: THE SPIDERS' EXODUS + + +Seeds, when ripened in the fruit, are disseminated, that is to say, +scattered on the surface of the ground, to sprout in spots as yet +unoccupied and fill the expanses that realize favourable conditions. + +Amid the wayside rubbish grows one of the gourd family, _Ecbalium +elaterium_, commonly called the squirting cucumber, whose fruit--a rough +and extremely bitter little cucumber--is the size of a date. When ripe, +the fleshy core resolves into a liquid in which float the seeds. +Compressed by the elastic rind of the fruit, this liquid bears upon the +base of the footstalk, which is gradually forced out, yields like a +stopper, breaks off and leaves an orifice through which a stream of seeds +and fluid pulp is suddenly ejected. If, with a novice hand, under a +scorching sun, you shake the plant laden with yellow fruit, you are bound +to be somewhat startled when you hear a noise among the leaves and +receive the cucumber's grapeshot in your face. + +The fruit of the garden balsam, when ripe, splits, at the least touch, +into five fleshy valves, which curl up and shoot their seeds to a +distance. The botanical name of _Impatiens_ given to the balsam alludes +to this sudden dehiscence of the capsules, which cannot endure contact +without bursting. + +In the damp and shady places of the woods there exists a plant of the +same family which, for similar reasons, bears the even more expressive +name of _Impatiens noli-me-tangere_, or touch-me-not. + +The capsule of the pansy expands into three valves, each scooped out like +a boat and laden in the middle with two rows of seeds. When these valves +dry, the edges shrivel, press upon the grains and eject them. + +Light seeds, especially those of the order of Compositae, have aeronautic +apparatus--tufts, plumes, fly-wheels--which keep them up in the air and +enable them to take distant voyages. In this way, at the least breath, +the seeds of the dandelion, surmounted by a tuft of feathers, fly from +their dry receptacle and waft gently in the air. + +Next to the tuft, the wing is the most satisfactory contrivance for +dissemination by wind. Thanks to their membranous edge, which gives them +the appearance of thin scales, the seeds of the yellow wall-flower reach +high cornices of buildings, clefts of inaccessible rocks, crannies in old +walls, and sprout in the remnant of mould bequeathed by the mosses that +were there before them. + +The samaras, or keys, of the elm, formed of a broad, light fan with the +seed cased in its centre; those of the maple, joined in pairs and +resembling the unfurled wings of a bird; those of the ash, carved like +the blade of an oar, perform the most distant journeys when driven before +the storm. + +Like the plant, the insect also sometimes possesses travelling-apparatus, +means of dissemination that allow large families to disperse quickly over +the country, so that each member may have his place in the sun without +injuring his neighbour; and these apparatus, these methods vie in +ingenuity with the elm's samara, the dandelion-plume and the catapult of +the squirting cucumber. + +Let us consider, in particular, the Epeirae, those magnificent Spiders +who, to catch their prey, stretch, between one bush and the next, great +vertical sheets of meshes, resembling those of the fowler. The most +remarkable in my district is the Banded Epeira (_Epeira fasciata_, +WALCK.), so prettily belted with yellow, black and silvery white. Her +nest, a marvel of gracefulness, is a satin bag, shaped like a tiny pear. +Its neck ends in a concave mouthpiece closed with a lid, also of satin. +Brown ribbons, in fanciful meridian waves, adorn the object from pole to +pole. + +Open the nest. We have seen, in an earlier chapter, {28} what we find +there; let us retell the story. Under the outer wrapper, which is as +stout as our woven stuffs and, moreover, perfectly waterproof, is a +russet eiderdown of exquisite delicacy, a silky fluff resembling driven +smoke. Nowhere does mother-love prepare a softer bed. + +In the middle of this downy mass hangs a fine, silk, thimble-shaped +purse, closed with a movable lid. This contains the eggs, of a pretty +orange-yellow and about five hundred in number. + +All things considered, is not this charming edifice an animal fruit, a +germ-casket, a capsule to be compared with that of the plants? Only, the +Epeira's wallet, instead of seeds, holds eggs. The difference is more +apparent than real, for egg and grain are one. + +How will this living fruit, ripening in the heat beloved of the Cicadae, +manage to burst? How, above all, will dissemination take place? They +are there in their hundreds. They must separate, go far away, isolate +themselves in a spot where there is not too much fear of competition +among neighbours. How will they set to work to achieve this distant +exodus, weaklings that they are, taking such very tiny steps? + +I receive the first answer from another and much earlier Epeira, whose +family I find, at the beginning of May, on a yucca in the enclosure. The +plant blossomed last year. The branching flower-stem, some three feet +high, still stands erect, though withered. On the green leaves, shaped +like a sword-blade, swarm two newly-hatched families. The wee beasties +are a dull yellow, with a triangular black patch upon their stern. Later +on, three white crosses, ornamenting the back, will tell me that my find +corresponds with the Cross or Diadem Spider (_Epeira diadema_, WALCK.). + +When the sun reaches this part of the enclosure, one of the two groups +falls into a great state of flutter. Nimble acrobats that they are, the +little Spiders scramble up, one after the other, and reach the top of the +stem. Here, marches and countermarches, tumult and confusion reign, for +there is a slight breeze which throws the troop into disorder. I see no +connected manoeuvres. From the top of the stalk they set out at every +moment, one by one; they dart off suddenly; they fly away, so to speak. +It is as though they had the wings of a Gnat. + +Forthwith they disappear from view. Nothing that my eyes can see +explains this strange flight; for precise observation is impossible amid +the disturbing influences out of doors. What is wanted is a peaceful +atmosphere and the quiet of my study. + +I gather the family in a large box, which I close at once, and instal it +in the animals' laboratory, on a small table, two steps from the open +window. Apprised by what I have just seen of their propensity to resort +to the heights, I give my subjects a bundle of twigs, eighteen inches +tall, as a climbing-pole. The whole band hurriedly clambers up and +reaches the top. In a few moments there is not one lacking in the group +on high. The future will tell us the reason of this assemblage on the +projecting tips of the twigs. + +The little Spiders are now spinning here and there at random: they go up, +go down, come up again. Thus is woven a light veil of divergent threads, +a many-cornered web with the end of the branch for its summit and the +edge of the table for its base, some eighteen inches wide. This veil is +the drill-ground, the work-yard where the preparations for departure are +made. + +Here hasten the humble little creatures, running indefatigably to and +fro. When the sun shines upon them, they become gleaming specks and form +upon the milky background of the veil a sort of constellation, a reflex +of those remote points in the sky where the telescope shows us endless +galaxies of stars. The immeasurably small and the immeasurably large are +alike in appearance. It is all a matter of distance. + +But the living nebula is not composed of fixed stars; on the contrary, +its specks are in continual movement. The young Spiders never cease +shifting their position on the web. Many let themselves drop, hanging by +a length of thread, which the faller's weight draws from the spinnerets. +Then quickly they climb up again by the same thread, which they wind +gradually into a skein and lengthen by successive falls. Others confine +themselves to running about the web and also give me the impression of +working at a bundle of ropes. + +The thread, as a matter of fact, does not flow from the spinneret; it is +drawn thence with a certain effort. It is a case of extraction, not +emission. To obtain her slender cord, the Spider has to move about and +haul, either by falling or by walking, even as the rope-maker steps +backwards when working his hemp. The activity now displayed on the drill- +ground is a preparation for the approaching dispersal. The travellers +are packing up. + +Soon we see a few Spiders trotting briskly between the table and the open +window. They are running in mid-air. But on what? If the light fall +favourably, I manage to see, at moments, behind the tiny animal, a thread +resembling a ray of light, which appears for an instant, gleams and +disappears. Behind, therefore, there is a mooring, only just +perceptible, if you look very carefully; but, in front, towards the +window, there is nothing to be seen at all. + +In vain I examine above, below, at the side; in vain I vary the direction +of the eye: I can distinguish no support for the little creature to walk +upon. One would think that the beastie were paddling in space. It +suggests the idea of a small bird, tied by the leg with a thread and +making a flying rush forwards. + +But, in this case, appearances are deceptive: flight is impossible; the +Spider must necessarily have a bridge whereby to cross the intervening +space. This bridge, which I cannot see, I can at least destroy. I +cleave the air with a ruler in front of the Spider making for the window. +That is quite enough: the tiny animal at once ceases to go forward and +falls. The invisible foot-plank is broken. My son, young Paul, who is +helping me, is astounded at this wave of the magic wand, for not even he, +with his fresh, young eyes, is able to see a support ahead for the +Spiderling to move along. + +In the rear, on the other hand, a thread is visible. The difference is +easily explained. Every Spider, as she goes, at the same time spins a +safety-cord which will guard the rope-walker against the risk of an +always possible fall. In the rear, therefore, the thread is of double +thickness and can be seen, whereas, in front, it is still single and +hardly perceptible to the eye. + +Obviously, this invisible foot-bridge is not flung out by the animal: it +is carried and unrolled by a gust of air. The Epeira, supplied with this +line, lets it float freely; and the wind, however softly blowing, bears +it along and unwinds it. Even so is the smoke from the bowl of a pipe +whirled up in the air. + +This floating thread has but to touch any object in the neighbourhood and +it will remain fixed to it. The suspension-bridge is thrown; and the +Spider can set out. The South-American Indians are said to cross the +abysses of the Cordilleras in travelling-cradles made of twisted +creepers; the little Spider passes through space on the invisible and the +imponderable. + +But to carry the end of the floating thread elsewhither a draught is +needed. At this moment, the draught exists between the door of my study +and the window, both of which are open. It is so slight that I do not +feel its; I only know of it by the smoke from my pipe, curling softly in +that direction. Cold air enters from without through the door; warm air +escapes from the room through the window. This is the drought that +carries the threads with it and enables the Spiders to embark upon their +journey. + +I get rid of it by closing both apertures and I break off any +communication by passing my ruler between the window and the table. +Henceforth, in the motionless atmosphere, there are no departures. The +current of air is missing, the skeins are not unwound and migration +becomes impossible. + +It is soon resumed, but in a direction whereof I never dreamt. The hot +sun is beating on a certain part of the floor. At this spot, which is +warmer than the rest, a column of lighter, ascending air is generated. If +this column catch the threads, my Spiders ought to rise to the ceiling of +the room. + +The curious ascent does, in fact, take place. Unfortunately, my troop, +which has been greatly reduced by the number of departures through the +window, does not lend itself to prolonged experiment. We must begin +again. + +The next morning, on the same yucca, I gather the second family, as +numerous as the first. Yesterday's preparations are repeated. My legion +of Spiders first weaves a divergent framework between the top of the +brushwood placed at the emigrants' disposal and the edge of the table. +Five or six hundred wee beasties swarm all over this work-yard. + +While this little world is busily fussing, making its arrangements for +departure, I make my own. Every aperture in the room is closed, so as to +obtain as calm an atmosphere as possible. A small chafing-dish is lit at +the foot of the table. My hands cannot feel the heat of it at the level +of the web whereon my Spiders are weaving. This is the very modest fire +which, with its column of rising air, shall unwind the threads and carry +them on high. + +Let us first enquire the direction and strength of the current. Dandelion- +plumes, made lighter by the removal of their seeds, serve as my guides. +Released above the chafing-dish, on the level of the table, they float +slowly upwards and, for the most part, reach the ceiling. The emigrants' +lines should rise in the same way and even better. + +The thing is done: with the aid of nothing that is visible to the three +of us looking on, a Spider makes her ascent. She ambles with her eight +legs through the air; she mounts, gently swaying. The others, in ever- +increasing numbers, follow, sometimes by different roads, sometimes by +the same road. Any one who did not possess the secret would stand amazed +at this magic ascent without a ladder. In a few minutes, most of them +are up, clinging to the ceiling. + +Not all of them reach it. I see some who, on attaining a certain height, +cease to go up and even lose ground, although moving their legs forward +with all the nimbleness of which they are capable. The more they +struggle upwards, the faster they come down. This drifting, which +neutralizes the distance covered and even converts it into a +retrogression, is easily explained. + +The thread has not reached the platform; it floats, it is fixed only at +the lower end. As long as it is of a fair length, it is able, although +moving, to bear the minute animal's weight. But, as the Spider climbs, +the float becomes shorter in proportion; and the time comes when a +balance is struck between the ascensional force of the thread and the +weight carried. Then the beastie remains stationary, although continuing +to climb. + +Presently, the weight becomes too much for the shorter and shorter float; +and the Spider slips down, in spite of her persistent, forward striving. +She is at last brought back to the branch by the falling threads. Here, +the ascent is soon renewed, either on a fresh thread, if the supply of +silk be not yet exhausted, or on a strange thread, the work, of those who +have gone before. + +As a rule, the ceiling is reached. It is twelve feet high. The little +Spider is able, therefore, as the first product of her spinning-mill, +before taking any refreshment, to obtain a line fully twelve feet in +length. And all this, the rope-maker and her rope, was contained in the +egg, a particle of no size at all. To what a degree of fineness can the +silky matter be wrought wherewith the young Spider is provided! Our +manufacturers are able to turn out platinum-wire that can only be seen +when it is made red-hot. With much simpler means, the Spiderling draws +from her wire-mill threads so delicate that, even the brilliant light of +the sun does not always enable us to discern them. + +We must not let all the climbers be stranded on the ceiling, an +inhospitable region where most of them will doubtless perish, being +unable to produce a second thread before they have had a meal. I open +the window. A current of lukewarm air, coming from the chafing-dish, +escapes through the top. Dandelion-plumes, taking that direction, tell +me so. The wafting threads cannot fail to be carried by this flow of air +and to lengthen out in the open, where a light breeze is blowing. + +I take a pair of sharp scissors and, without shaking the threads, cut a +few that are just visible at the base, where they are thickened with an +added strand. The result of this operation is marvellous. Hanging to +the flying-rope, which is borne on the wind outside, the Spider passes +through the window, suddenly flies off and disappears. An easy way of +travelling, if the conveyance possessed a rudder that allowed the +passenger to land where he pleases! But the little things are at the +mercy of the winds: where will they alight? Hundreds, thousands of yards +away, perhaps. Let us wish them a prosperous journey. + +The problem of dissemination is now solved. What would happen if +matters, instead of being brought about by my wiles, took place in the +open fields? The answer is obvious. The young Spiders, born acrobats +and rope-walkers, climb to the top of a branch so as to find sufficient +space below them to unfurl their apparatus. Here, each draws from her +rope-factory a thread which she abandons to the eddies of the air. Gently +raised by the currents that ascend from the ground warmed by the sun, +this thread wafts upwards, floats, undulates, makes for its point of +contact. At last, it breaks and vanishes in the distance, carrying the +spinstress hanging to it. + +The Epeira with the three white crosses, the Spider who has supplied us +with these first data concerning the process of dissemination, is endowed +with a moderate maternal industry. As a receptacle for the eggs, she +weaves a mere pill of silk. Her work is modest indeed beside the Banded +Epeira's balloons. I looked to these to supply me with fuller documents. +I had laid up a store by rearing some mothers during the autumn. So that +nothing of importance might escape me, I divided my stock of balloons, +most of which were woven before my eyes, into two sections. One half +remained in my study, under a wire-gauze cover, with, small bunches of +brushwood as supports; the other half were experiencing the vicissitudes +of open-air life on the rosemaries in the enclosure. + +These preparations, which promised so well, did not provide me with the +sight which I expected, namely, a magnificent exodus, worthy of the +tabernacle occupied. However, a few results, not devoid of interest, are +to be noted. Let us state them briefly. + +The hatching takes place as March approaches. When this time comes, let +us open the Banded Epeira's nest with the scissors. We shall find that +some of the youngsters have already left the central chamber and +scattered over the surrounding eiderdown, while the rest of the laying +still consists of a compact mass of orange eggs. The appearance of the +younglings is not simultaneous; it takes place with intermissions and may +last a couple of weeks. + +Nothing as yet suggests the future, richly-striped livery. The abdomen +is white and, as it were, floury in the front half; in the other half it +is a blackish-brown. The rest of the body is pale-yellow, except in +front, where the eyes form a black edging. When left alone, the little +ones remain motionless in the soft, russet swan's-down; if disturbed, +they shuffle lazily where they are, or even walk about in a hesitating +and unsteady fashion. One can see that they have to ripen before +venturing outside. + +Maturity is achieved in the exquisite floss that surrounds the natal +chamber and fills out the balloon. This is the waiting-room in which the +body hardens. All dive into it as and when they emerge from the central +keg. They will not leave it until four months later, when the midsummer +heats have come. + +Their number is considerable. A patient and careful census gives me +nearly six hundred. And all this comes out of a purse no larger than a +pea. By what miracle is there room for such a family? How do those +thousands of legs manage to grow without straining themselves? + +The egg-bag, as we learnt in Chapter II., is a short cylinder rounded at +the bottom. It is formed of compact white satin, an insuperable barrier. +It opens into a round orifice wherein is bedded a lid of the same +material, through which the feeble beasties would be incapable of +passing. It is not a porous felt, but a fabric as tough as that of the +sack. Then by what mechanism is the delivery effected? + +Observe that the disk of the lid doubles back into a short fold, which +edges into the orifice of the bag. In the same way, the lid of a +saucepan fits the mouth by means of a projecting rim, with this +difference, that the rim is not attached to the saucepan, whereas, in the +Epeira's work, it is soldered to the bag or nest. Well, at the time of +the hatching, this disk becomes unstuck, lifts and allows the new-born +Spiders to pass through. + +If the rim were movable and simply inserted, if, moreover, the birth of +all the family took place at the same time, we might think that the door +is forced open by the living wave of inmates, who would set their backs +to it with a common effort. We should find an approximate image in the +case of the saucepan, whose lid is raised by the boiling of its contents. +But the fabric of the cover is one with the fabric of the bag, the two +are closely welded; besides, the hatching is effected in small batches, +incapable of the least exertion. There must, therefore, be a spontaneous +bursting, or dehiscence, independent of the assistance of the youngsters +and similar to that of the seed-pods of plants. + +When fully ripened, the dry fruit of the snap-dragon opens three windows; +that of the pimpernel splits into two rounded halves, something like +those of the outer case of a fob-watch; the fruit of the carnation partly +unseals its valves and opens at the top into a star-shaped hatch. Each +seed-casket has its own system of locks, which are made to work smoothly +by the mere kiss of the sun. + +Well, that other dry fruit, the Banded Epeira's germ-box, likewise +possesses its bursting-gear. As long as the eggs remain unhatched, the +door, solidly fixed in its frame, holds good; as soon as the little ones +swarm and want to get out, it opens of itself. + +Come June and July, beloved of the Cicadae, no less beloved of the young +Spiders who are anxious to be off. It were difficult indeed for them to +work their way through the thick shell of the balloon. For the second +time, a spontaneous dehiscence seems called for. Where will it be +effected? + +The idea occurs off-hand that it will take place along the edges of the +top cover. Remember the details given in an earlier chapter. The neck +of the balloon ends in a wide crater, which is closed by a ceiling dug +out cup-wise. The material is as stout in this part as in any other; +but, as the lid was the finishing touch to the work, we expect to find an +incomplete soldering, which would allow it to be unfastened. + +The method of construction deceives us: the ceiling is immovable; at no +season can my forceps manage to extract it, without destroying the +building from top to bottom. The dehiscence takes place elsewhere, at +some point on the sides. Nothing informs us, nothing suggests to us that +it will occur at one place rather than another. + +Moreover, to tell the truth, it is not a dehiscence prepared by means of +some dainty piece of mechanism; it is a very irregular tear. Somewhat +sharply, under the fierce heat of the sun, the satin bursts like the rind +of an over-ripe pomegranate. Judging by the result, we think of the +expansion of the air inside, which, heated by the sun, causes this +rupture. The signs of pressure from within are manifest: the tatters of +the torn fabric are turned outwards; also, a wisp of the russet eiderdown +that fills the wallet invariably straggles through the breach. In the +midst of the protruding floss, the Spiderlings, expelled from their home +by the explosion, are in frantic commotion. + +The balloons of the Banded Epeira are bombs which, to free their +contents, burst under the rays of a torrid sun. To break they need the +fiery heat-waves of the dog-days. When kept in the moderate atmosphere +of my study, most of them do not open and the emergence of the young does +not take place, unless I myself I have a hand in the business; a few +others open with a round hole, a hole so neat that it might have been +made with a punch. This aperture is the work of the prisoners, who, +relieving one another in turns, have, with a patient tooth, bitten +through the stuff of the jar at some point or other. + +When exposed to the full force of the sun, however, on the rosemaries in +the enclosure, the balloons burst and shoot forth a ruddy flood of floss +and tiny animals. That is how things occur in the free sun-bath of the +fields. Unsheltered, among the bushes, the wallet of the Banded Epeira, +when the July heat arrives, splits under the effort of the inner air. The +delivery is effected by an explosion of the dwelling. + +A very small part of the family are expelled with the flow of tawny +floss; the vast majority remain in the bag, which is ripped open, but +still bulges with eiderdown. Now that the breach is made, any one can go +out who pleases, in his own good time, without hurrying. Besides, a +solemn action has to be performed before the emigration. The animal must +cast its skin; and the moult is an event that does not fall on the same +date for all. The evacuation of the place, therefore, lasts several +days. It is effected in small squads, as the slough is flung aside. + +Those who sally forth climb up the neighbouring twigs and there, in the +full heat of the sun, proceed with the work of dissemination. The method +is the same as that which we saw in the case of the Cross Spider. The +spinnerets abandon to the breeze a thread that floats, breaks and flies +away, carrying the rope-maker with it. The number of starters on any one +morning is so small as to rob the spectacle of the greater part of its +interest. The scene lacks animation because of the absence of a crowd. + +To my intense disappointment, the Silky Epeira does not either indulge in +a tumultuous and dashing exodus. Let me remind you of her handiwork, the +handsomest of the maternal wallets, next to the Banded Epeira's. It is +an obtuse conoid, closed with a star-shaped disk. It is made of a +stouter and especially a thicker material than the Banded Epeira's +balloon, for which reason a spontaneous rupture becomes more necessary +than ever. + +This rupture is effected at the sides of the bag, not far from the edge +of the lid. Like the ripping of the balloon, it requires the rough aid +of the heat of July. Its mechanism also seems to work by the expansion +of the heated air, for we again see a partial emission of the silky floss +that fills the pouch. + +The exit of the family is performed in a single group and, this time, +before the moult, perhaps for lack of the space necessary for the +delicate casting of the skin. The conical bag falls far short of the +balloon in size; those packed within would sprain their legs in +extracting them from their sheaths. The family, therefore, emerges in a +body and settles on a sprig hard by. + +This is a temporary camping-ground, where, spinning in unison, the +youngsters soon weave an open-work tent, the abode of a week, or +thereabouts. The moult is effected in this lounge of intersecting +threads. The sloughed skins form a heap at the bottom of the dwelling; +on the trapezes above, the flaylings take exercise and gain strength and +vigour. Finally, when maturity is attained, they set out, now these, now +those, little by little and always cautiously. There are no audacious +flights on the thready airship; the journey is accomplished by modest +stages. + +Hanging to her thread, the Spider lets herself drop straight down, to a +depth of nine or ten inches. A breath of air sets her swinging like a +pendulum, sometimes drives her against a neighbouring branch. This is a +step towards the dispersal. At the point reached, there is a fresh fall, +followed by a fresh pendulous swing that lands her a little farther +afield. Thus, in short tacks, for the thread is never very long, does +the Spiderling go about, seeing the country, until she comes to a place +that suits her. Should the wind blow at all hard, the voyage is cut +short: the cable of the pendulum breaks and the beastie is carried for +some distance on its cord. + +To sum up, although, on the whole, the tactics of the exodus remain much +the same, the two spinstresses of my region best-versed in the art of +weaving mothers' wallets failed to come up to my expectations. I went to +the trouble of rearing them, with disappointing results. Where shall I +find again the wonderful spectacle which the Cross Spider offered me by +chance? I shall find it--in an even more striking fashion--among humbler +Spiders, whom I had neglected to observe. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII: THE CRAB SPIDER + + +The Spider that showed me the exodus in all its magnificence is known +officially as _Thomisus onustus_, WALCK. Though the name suggest nothing +to the reader's mind, it has the advantage, at any rate, of hurting +neither the throat nor the ear, as is too often the case with scientific +nomenclature, which sounds more like sneezing than articulate speech. +Since it is the rule to dignify plants and animals with a Latin label, +let us at least respect the euphony of the classics and refrain from +harsh splutters which spit out a name instead of pronouncing it. + +What will posterity do in face of the rising tide of a barbarous +vocabulary which, under the pretence of progress, stifles real knowledge? +It will relegate the whole business to the quagmire of oblivion. But +what will never disappear is the popular name, which sounds well, is +picturesque and conveys some sort of information. Such is the term Crab +Spider, applied by the ancients to the group to which the Thomisus +belongs, a pretty accurate term, for, in this case, there is an evident +analogy between the Spider and the Crustacean. + +Like the Crab, the Thomisus walks sideways; she also has forelegs +stronger than her hind-legs. The only thing wanting to complete the +resemblance is the front pair of stone gauntlets, raised in the attitude +of self-defence. + +The Spider with the Crab-like figure does not know how to manufacture +nets for catching game. Without springs or snares, she lies in ambush, +among the flowers, and awaits the arrival of the quarry, which she kills +by administering a scientific stab in the neck. The Thomisus, in +particular, the subject of this chapter, is passionately addicted to the +pursuit of the Domestic Bee. I have described the contests between the +victim and her executioner, at greater length, elsewhere. + +The Bee appears, seeking no quarrel, intent upon plunder. She tests the +flowers with her tongue; she selects a spot that will yield a good +return. Soon she is wrapped up in her harvesting. While she is filling +her baskets and distending her crop, the Thomisus, that bandit lurking +under cover of the flowers, issues from her hiding-place, creeps round +behind the bustling insect, steals up close and, with a sudden rush, nabs +her in the nape of the neck. In vain, the Bee protests and darts her +sting at random; the assailant does not let go. + +Besides, the bite in the neck is paralysing, because the cervical nerve- +centres are affected. The poor thing's legs stiffen; and all is over in +a second. The murderess now sucks the victim's blood at her ease and, +when she has done, scornfully flings the drained corpse aside. She hides +herself once more, ready to bleed a second gleaner should the occasion +offer. + +This slaughter of the Bee engaged in the hallowed delights of labour has +always revolted me. Why should there be workers to feed idlers, why +sweated to keep sweaters in luxury? Why should so many admirable lives +be sacrificed to the greater prosperity of brigandage? These hateful +discords amid the general harmony perplex the thinker, all the more as we +shall see the cruel vampire become a model of devotion where her family +is concerned. + +The ogre loved his children; he ate the children of others. Under the +tyranny of the stomach, we are all of us, beasts and men alike, ogres. +The dignity of labour, the joy of life, maternal affection, the terrors +of death: all these do not count, in others; the main point is that +morsel the be tender and savoury. + +According to the etymology of her name--[Greek text], a cord--the +Thomisus should be like the ancient lictor, who bound the sufferer to the +stake. The comparison is not inappropriate as regards many Spiders who +tie their prey with a thread to subdue it and consume it at their ease; +but it just happens that the Thomisus is at variance with her label. She +does not fasten her Bee, who, dying suddenly of a bite in the neck, +offers no resistance to her consumer. Carried away by his recollection +of the regular tactics, our Spider's godfather overlooked the exception; +he did not know of the perfidious mode of attack which renders the use of +a bow-string superfluous. + +Nor is the second name of _onustus_--loaded, burdened, freighted--any too +happily chosen. The fact that the Bee-huntress carries a heavy paunch is +no reason to refer to this as a distinctive characteristic. Nearly all +Spiders have a voluminous belly, a silk-warehouse where, in some cases, +the rigging of the net, in others, the swan's-down of the nest is +manufactured. The Thomisus, a first-class nest-builder, does like the +rest: she hoards in her abdomen, but without undue display of obesity, +the wherewithal to house her family snugly. + +Can the expression _onustus_ refer simply to her slow and sidelong walk? +The explanation appeals to me, without satisfying me fully. Except in +the case of a sudden alarm, every Spider maintains a sober gait and a +wary pace. When all is said, the scientific term is composed of a +misconception and a worthless epithet. How difficult it is to name +animals rationally! Let us be indulgent to the nomenclator: the +dictionary is becoming exhausted and the constant flood that requires +cataloguing mounts incessantly, wearing out our combinations of +syllables. + +As the technical name tells the reader nothing, how shall he be informed? +I see but one means, which is to invite him to the May festivals, in the +waste-lands of the South. The murderess of the Bees is of a chilly +constitution; in our parts, she hardly ever moves away from the olive- +districts. Her favourite shrub is the white-leaved rock-rose (_Cistus +albidus_), with the large, pink, crumpled, ephemeral blooms that last but +a morning and are replaced, next day, by fresh flowers, which have +blossomed in the cool dawn. This glorious efflorescence goes on for five +or six weeks. + +Here, the Bees plunder enthusiastically, fussing and bustling in the +spacious whorl of the stamens, which beflour them with yellow. Their +persecutrix knows of this affluence. She posts herself in her +watch-house, under the rosy screen of a petal. Cast your eyes over the +flower, more or less everywhere. If you see a Bee lying lifeless, with +legs and tongue out-stretched, draw nearer: the Thomisus will be there, +nine times out of ten. The thug has struck her blow; she is draining the +blood of the departed. + +After all, this cutter of Bees' throats is a pretty, a very pretty +creature, despite her unwieldy paunch fashioned like a squat pyramid and +embossed on the base, on either side, with a pimple shaped like a camel's +hump. The skin, more pleasing to the eye than any satin, is milk-white +in some, in others lemon-yellow. There are fine ladies among them who +adorn their legs with a number of pink bracelets and their back with +carmine arabesques. A narrow pale-green ribbon sometimes edges the right +and left of the breast. It is not so rich as the costume of the Banded +Epeira, but much more elegant because of its soberness, its daintiness +and the artful blending of its hues. Novice fingers, which shrink from +touching any other Spider, allow themselves to be enticed by these +attractions; they do not fear to handle the beauteous Thomisus, so gentle +in appearance. + +Well, what can this gem among Spiders do? In the first place, she makes +a nest worthy of its architect. With twigs and horse-hair and bits of +wool, the Goldfinch, the Chaffinch and other masters of the builder's art +construct an aerial bower in the fork of the branches. Herself a lover +of high places, the Thomisus selects as the site of her nest one of the +upper twigs of the rock-rose, her regular hunting-ground, a twig withered +by the heat and possessing a few dead leaves, which curl into a little +cottage. This is where she settles with a view to her eggs. + +Ascending and descending with a gentle swing in more or less every +direction, the living shuttle, swollen with silk, weaves a bag whose +outer casing becomes one with the dry leaves around. The work, which is +partly visible and partly hidden by its supports, is a pure dead-white. +Its shape, moulded in the angular interval between the bent leaves, is +that of a cone and reminds us, on a smaller scale, of the nest of the +Silky Epeira. + +When the eggs are laid, the mouth of the receptacle is hermetically +closed with a lid of the same white silk. Lastly, a few threads, +stretched like a thin curtain, form a canopy above the nest and, with the +curved tips of the leaves, frame a sort of alcove wherein the mother +takes up her abode. + +It is more than a place of rest after the fatigues of her confinement: it +is a guard-room, an inspection-post where the mother remains sprawling +until the youngsters' exodus. Greatly emaciated by the laying of her +eggs and by her expenditure of silk, she lives only for the protection of +her nest. + +Should some vagrant pass near by, she hurries from her watch-tower, lifts +a limb and puts the intruder to flight. If I tease her with a straw, she +parries with big gestures, like those of a prize-fighter. She uses her +fists against my weapon. When I propose to dislodge her in view of +certain experiments, I find some difficulty in doing so. She clings to +the silken floor, she frustrates my attacks, which I am bound to moderate +lest I should injure her. She is no sooner attracted outside than she +stubbornly returns to her post. She declines to leave her treasure. + +Even so does the Narbonne Lycosa struggle when we try to take away her +pill. Each displays the same pluck and the same devotion; and also the +same denseness in distinguishing her property from that of others. The +Lycosa accepts without hesitation any strange pill which she is, given in +exchange for her own; she confuses alien produce with the produce of her +ovaries and her silk-factory. Those hallowed words, maternal love, were +out of place here: it is an impetuous, an almost mechanical impulse, +wherein real affection plays no part whatever. The beautiful Spider of +the rock-roses is no more generously endowed. When moved from her nest +to another of the same kind, she settles upon it and never stirs from it, +even though the different arrangement of the leafy fence be such as to +warn her that she is not really at home. Provided that she have satin +under her feet, she does not notice her mistake; she watches over +another's nest with the same vigilance which she might show in watching +over her own. + +The Lycosa surpasses her in maternal blindness. She fastens to her +spinnerets and dangles, by way of a bag of eggs, a ball of cork polished +with my file, a paper pellet, a little ball of thread. In order to +discover if the Thomisus is capable of a similar error, I gathered some +broken pieces of silk-worm's cocoon into a closed cone, turning the +fragments so as to bring the smoother and more delicate inner surface +outside. My attempt was unsuccessful. When removed from her home and +placed on the artificial wallet, the mother Thomisus obstinately refused +to settle there. Can she be more clear-sighted than the Lycosa? Perhaps +so. Let us not be too extravagant with our praise, however; the +imitation of the bag was a very clumsy one. + +The work of laying is finished by the end of May, after which, lying flat +on the ceiling of her nest, the mother never leaves her guard-room, +either by night or day. Seeing her look so thin and wrinkled, I imagine +that I can please her by bringing her a provision of Bees, as I was wont +to do. I have misjudged her needs. The Bee, hitherto her favourite +dish, tempts her no longer. In vain does the prey buzz close by, an easy +capture within the cage: the watcher does not shift from her post, takes +no notice of the windfall. She lives exclusively upon maternal devotion, +a commendable but unsubstantial fare. And so I see her pining away from +day to day, becoming more and more wrinkled. What is the withered thing +waiting for, before expiring? She is waiting for her children to emerge; +the dying creature is still of use to them. + +When the Banded Epeira's little ones issue from their balloon, they have +long been orphans. There is none to come to their assistance; and they +have not the strength to free themselves unaided. The balloon has to +split automatically and to scatter the youngsters and their flossy +mattress all mixed up together. The Thomisus' wallet, sheathed in leaves +over the greater part of its surface, never bursts; nor does the lid +rise, so carefully is it sealed down. Nevertheless, after the delivery +of the brood, we see, at the edge of the lid, a small, gaping hole, an +exit-window. Who contrived this window, which was not there at first? + +The fabric is too thick and tough to have yielded to the twitches of the +feeble little prisoners. It was the mother, therefore, who, feeling her +offspring shuffle impatiently under the silken ceiling, herself made a +hole in the bag. She persists in living for five or six weeks, despite +her shattered health, so as to give a last helping hand and open the door +for her family. After performing this duty, she gently lets herself die, +hugging her nest and turning into a shrivelled relic. + +When July comes, the little ones emerge. In view of their acrobatic +habits, I have placed a bundle of slender twigs at the top of the cage in +which they were born. All of them pass through the wire gauze and form a +group on the summit of the brushwood, where they swiftly weave a spacious +lounge of criss-cross threads. Here they remain, pretty quietly, for a +day or two; then foot-bridges begin to be flung from one object to the +next. This is the opportune moment. + +I put the bunch laden with beasties on a small table, in the shade, +before the open window. Soon, the exodus commences, but slowly and +unsteadily. There are hesitations, retrogressions, perpendicular falls +at the end of a thread, ascents that bring the hanging Spider up again. +In short much ado for a poor result. + +As matters continue to drag, it occurs to me, at eleven o'clock, to take +the bundle of brushwood swarming with the little Spiders, all eager to be +off, and place it on the window-sill, in the glare of the sun. After a +few minutes of heat and light, the scene assumes a very different aspect. +The emigrants run to the top of the twigs, bustle about actively. It +becomes a bewildering rope-yard, where thousands of legs are drawing the +hemp from the spinnerets. I do not see the ropes manufactured and sent +floating at the mercy of the air; but I guess their presence. + +Three or four Spiders start at a time, each going her own way in +directions independent of her neighbours'. All are moving upwards, all +are climbing some support, as can be perceived by the nimble motion of +their legs. Moreover, the road is visible behind the climber, it is of +double thickness, thanks to an added thread. Then, at a certain height, +individual movement ceases. The tiny animal soars in space and shines, +lit up by the sun. Softly it sways, then suddenly takes flight. + +What has happened? There is a slight breeze outside. The floating cable +has snapped and the creature has gone off, borne on its parachute. I see +it drifting away, showing, like a spot of light, against the dark foliage +of the near cypresses, some forty feet distant. It rises higher, it +crosses over the cypress-screen, it disappears. Others follow, some +higher, some lower, hither and thither. + +But the throng has finished its preparations; the hour has come to +disperse in swarms. We now see, from the crest of the brushwood, a +continuous spray of starters, who shoot up like microscopic projectiles +and mount in a spreading cluster. In the end, it is like the bouquet at +the finish of a pyrotechnic display, the sheaf of rockets fired +simultaneously. The comparison is correct down to the dazzling light +itself. Flaming in the sun like so many gleaming points, the little +Spiders are the sparks of that living firework. What a glorious send- +off! What an entrance into the world! Clutching its aeronautic thread, +the minute creature mounts in an apotheosis. + +Sooner or later, nearer or farther, the fall comes. To live, we have to +descend, often very low, alas! The Crested Lark crumbles the +mule-droppings in the road and thus picks up his food, the oaten grain +which he would never find by soaring in the sky, his throat swollen with +song. We have to descend; the stomach's inexorable claims demand it. The +Spiderling, therefore, touches land. Gravity, tempered by the parachute, +is kind to her. + +The rest of her story escapes me. What infinitely tiny Midges does she +capture before possessing the strength to stab her Bee? What are the +methods, what the wiles of atom contending with atom? I know not. We +shall find her again in spring, grown quite large and crouching among the +flowers whence the Bee takes toll. + + + + +CHAPTER IX: THE GARDEN SPIDERS: BUILDING THE WEB + + +The fowling-snare is one of man's ingenious villainies. With lines, pegs +and poles, two large, earth-coloured 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. + +First of all, we must witness the making of the net; we must see it +constructed and see it again and again, for the plan of such a complex +work can only be grasped in fragments. To-day, observation will give us +one detail; to-morrow, it will give us a second, suggesting fresh points +of view; as our visits multiply, a new fact is each time added to the sum +total of the acquired data, confirming those which come before or +directing our thoughts along unsuspected paths. + +The snow-ball rolling over the carpet of white grows enormous, however +scanty each fresh layer be. Even so with truth in observational science: +it is built up of trifles patiently gathered together. And, while the +collecting of these trifles means that the student of Spider industry +must not be chary of his time, at least it involves no distant and +speculative research. The smallest garden contains Epeirae, all +accomplished weavers. + +In my enclosure, which I have stocked carefully with the most famous +breeds, I have six different species under observation, all of a useful +size, all first-class spinners. Their names are the Banded Epeira +(_Epeira fasciata_, WALCK.), the Silky Epeira (_E. sericea_, WALCK.), the +Angular Epeira (_E. angulata_, WALCK.), the Pale-tinted Epeira (_E. +pallida_, OLIV.), the Diadem Epeira, or Cross Spider (_E. diadema_, +CLERK.), and the Crater Epeira (_E. cratera_, WALCK.). + +I am able, at the proper hours, all through the fine season, to question +them, to watch them at work, now this one, anon that, according to the +chances of the day. What I did not see very plainly yesterday I can see +the next day, under better conditions, and on any of the following days, +until the phenomenon under observation is revealed in all clearness. + +Let us go every evening, step by step, from one border of tall rosemaries +to the next. Should things move too slowly, we will sit down at the foot +of the shrubs, opposite the rope-yard, where the light falls favourably, +and watch with unwearying attention. Each trip will be good for a fact +that fills some gap in the ideas already gathered. To appoint one's +self, in this way, an inspector of Spiders' webs, for many years in +succession and for long seasons, means joining a not overcrowded +profession, I admit. Heaven knows, it does not enable one to put money +by! No matter: the meditative mind returns from that school fully +satisfied. + +To describe the separate progress of the work in the case of each of the +six Epeirae mentioned would be a useless repetition: all six employ the +same methods and weave similar webs, save for certain details that shall +be set forth later. I will, therefore, sum up in the aggregate the +particulars supplied by one or other of them. + +My subjects, in the first instance, are young and boast but a slight +corporation, very far removed from what it will be in the late autumn. +The belly, the wallet containing the rope-works, hardly exceeds a +peppercorn in bulk. This slenderness on the part of the spinstresses +must not prejudice us against their work: there is no parity between +their skill and their years. The adult Spiders, with their disgraceful +paunches, can do no better. + +Moreover, the beginners have one very precious advantage for the +observer: they work by day, work even in the sun, whereas the old ones +weave only at night, at unseasonable hours. The first show us the +secrets of their looms without much difficulty; the others conceal them +from us. Work starts in July, a couple of hours before sunset. + +The spinstresses of my enclosure then leave their daytime hiding-places, +select their posts and begin to spin, one here, another there. There are +many of them; we can choose where we please. Let us stop in front of +this one, whom we surprise in the act of laying the foundations of the +structure. Without any appreciable order, she runs about the rosemary- +hedge, from the tip of one branch to another within the limits of some +eighteen inches. Gradually, she puts a thread in position, drawing it +from her wire-mill with the combs attached to her hind-legs. This +preparatory work presents no appearance of a concerted plan. The Spider +comes and goes impetuously, as though at random; she goes up, comes down, +goes up again, dives down again and each time strengthens the points of +contact with intricate moorings distributed here and there. The result +is a scanty and disordered scaffolding. + +Is disordered the word? Perhaps not. The Epeira's eye, more experienced +in matters of this sort than mine, has recognized the general lie of the +land; and the rope-fabric has been erected accordingly: it is very +inaccurate in my opinion, but very suitable for the Spider's designs. +What is it that she really wants? A solid frame to contain the network +of the web. The shapeless structure which she has just built fulfils the +desired conditions: it marks out a flat, free and perpendicular area. +This is all that is necessary. + +The whole work, for that matter, is now soon completed; it is done all +over again, each evening, from top to bottom, for the incidents of the +chase destroy it in a night. The net is as yet too delicate to resist +the desperate struggles of the captured prey. On the other hand, the +adults' net, which is formed of stouter threads, is adapted to last some +time; and the Epeira gives it a more carefully-constructed framework, as +we shall see elsewhere. + +A special thread, the foundation of the real net, is stretched across the +area so capriciously circumscribed. It is distinguished from the others +by its isolation, its position at a distance from any twig that might +interfere with its swaying length. It never fails to have, in the +middle, a thick white point, formed of a little silk cushion. This is +the beacon that marks the centre of the future edifice, the post that +will guide the Epeira and bring order into the wilderness of twists and +turns. + +The time has come to weave the hunting-snare. The Spider starts from the +centre, which bears the white signpost, and, running along the +transversal thread, hurriedly reaches the circumference, that is to say, +the irregular frame enclosing the free space. Still with the same sudden +movement, she rushes from the circumference to the centre; she starts +again backwards and forwards, makes for the right, the left, the top, the +bottom; she hoists herself up, dives down, climbs up again, runs down and +always returns to the central landmark by roads that slant in the most +unexpected manner. Each time, a radius or spoke is laid, here, there, or +elsewhere, in what looks like mad disorder. + +The operation is so erratically conducted that it takes the most +unremitting attention to follow it at all. The Spider reaches the margin +of the area by one of the spokes already placed. She goes along this +margin for some distance from the point at which she landed, fixes her +thread to the frame and returns to the centre by the same road which she +has just taken. + +The thread obtained on the way in a broken line, partly on the radius and +partly on the frame, is too long for the exact distance between the +circumference and the central point. On returning to this point, the +Spider adjusts her thread, stretches it to the correct length, fixes it +and collects what remains on the central signpost. In the case of each +radius laid, the surplus is treated in the same fashion, so that the +signpost continues to increase in size. It was first a speck; it is now +a little pellet, or even a small cushion of a certain breadth. + +We shall see presently what becomes of this cushion whereon the Spider, +that niggardly housewife, lays her saved-up bits of thread; for the +moment, we will note that the Epeira works it up with her legs after +placing each spoke, teazles it with her claws, mats it into felt with +noteworthy diligence. In so doing, she gives the spokes a solid common +support, something like the hub of our carriage-wheels. + +The eventual regularity of the work suggests that the radii are spun in +the same order in which they figure in the web, each following +immediately upon its next neighbour. Matters pass in another manner, +which at first looks like disorder, but which is really a judicious +contrivance. After setting a few spokes in one direction, the Epeira +runs across to the other side to draw some in the opposite direction. +These sudden changes of course are highly logical; they show us how +proficient the Spider is in the mechanics of rope-construction. Were +they to succeed one another regularly, the spokes of one group, having +nothing as yet to counteract them, would distort the work by their +straining, would even destroy it for lack of a stabler support. Before +continuing, it is necessary to lay a converse group which will maintain +the whole by its resistance. Any combination of forces acting in one +direction must be forthwith neutralized by another in the opposite +direction. This is what our statics teach us and what the Spider puts +into practice; she is a past mistress of the secrets of rope-building, +without serving an apprenticeship. + +One would think that this interrupted and apparently disordered labour +must result in a confused piece of work. Wrong: the rays are equidistant +and form a beautifully-regular orb. Their number is a characteristic +mark of the different species. The Angular Epeira places 21 in her web, +the Banded Epeira 32, the Silky Epeira 42. These numbers are not +absolutely fixed; but the variation is very slight. + +Now which of us would undertake, off-hand, without much preliminary +experiment and without measuring-instruments, to divide a circle into a +given quantity of sectors of equal width? The Epeirae, though weighted +with a wallet and tottering on threads shaken by the wind, effect the +delicate division without stopping to think. They achieve it by a method +which seems mad according to our notions of geometry. Out of disorder +they evolve order. + +We must not, however, give them more than their due. The angles are only +approximately equal; they satisfy the demands of the eye, but cannot +stand the test of strict measurement. Mathematical precision would be +superfluous here. No matter, we are amazed at the result obtained. How +does the Epeira come to succeed with her difficult problem, so strangely +managed? I am still asking myself the question. + +The laying of the radii is finished. The Spider takes her place in the +centre, on the little cushion formed of the inaugural signpost and the +bits of thread left over. Stationed on this support, she slowly turns +round and round. She is engaged on a delicate piece of work. With an +extremely thin thread, she describes from spoke to spoke, starting from +the centre, a spiral line with very close coils. The central space thus +worked attains, in the adults' webs, the dimensions of the palm of one's +hand; in the younger Spiders' webs, it is much smaller, but it is never +absent. For reasons which I will explain in the course of this study, I +shall call it, in future, the 'resting-floor.' + +The thread now becomes thicker. The first could hardly be seen; the +second is plainly visible. The Spider shifts her position with great +slanting strides, turns a few times, moving farther and farther from the +centre, fixes her line each time to the spoke which she crosses and at +last comes to a stop at the lower edge of the frame. She has described a +spiral with coils of rapidly-increasing width. The average distance +between the coils, even in the structures of the young Epeirae, is one +centimetre. {29} + +Let us not be misled by the word 'spiral,' which conveys the notion of a +curved line. All curves are banished from the Spiders' work; nothing is +used but the straight line and its combinations. All that is aimed at is +a polygonal line drawn in a curve as geometry understands it. To this +polygonal line, a work destined to disappear as the real toils are woven, +I will give the name of the 'auxiliary spiral.' Its object is to supply +cross-bars, supporting rungs, especially in the outer zone, where the +radii are too distant from one another to afford a suitable groundwork. +Its object is also to guide the Epeira in the extremely delicate business +which she is now about to undertake. + +But, before that, one last task becomes essential. The area occupied by +the spokes is very irregular, being marked out by the supports of the +branch, which are infinitely variable. There are angular niches which, +if skirted too closely, would disturb the symmetry of the web about to be +constructed. The Epeira needs an exact space wherein gradually to lay +her spiral thread. Moreover, she must not leave any gaps through which +her prey might find an outlet. + +An expert in these matters, the Spider soon knows the corners that have +to be filled up. With an alternating movement, first in this direction, +then in that, she lays, upon the support of the radii, a thread that +forms two acute angles at the lateral boundaries of the faulty part and +describes a zigzag line not wholly unlike the ornament known as the fret. + +The sharp corners have now been filled with frets on every side; the time +has come to work at the essential part, the snaring-web for which all the +rest is but a support. Clinging on the one hand to the radii, on the +other to the chords of the auxiliary spiral, the Epeira covers the same +ground as when laying the spiral, but in the opposite direction: +formerly, she moved away from the centre; now she moves towards it and +with closer and more numerous circles. She starts from the base of the +auxiliary spiral, near the frame. + +What follows is difficult to observe, for the movements are very quick +and spasmodic, consisting of a series of sudden little rushes, sways and +bends that bewilder the eye. It needs continuous attention and repeated +examination to distinguish the progress of the work however slightly. + +The two hind-legs, the weaving implements, keep going constantly. Let us +name them according to their position on the work-floor. I call the leg +that faces the centre of the coil, when the animal moves, the 'inner +leg;' the one outside the coil the 'outer leg.' + +The latter draws the thread from the spinneret and passes it to the inner +leg, which, with a graceful movement, lays it on the radius crossed. At +the same time, the first leg measures the distance; it grips the last +coil placed in position and brings within a suitable range that point of +the radius whereto the thread is to be fixed. As soon as the radius is +touched, the thread sticks to it by its own glue. There are no slow +operations, no knots: the fixing is done of itself. + +Meanwhile, turning by narrow degrees, the spinstress approaches the +auxiliary chords that have just served as her support. When, in the end, +these chords become too close, they will have to go; they would impair +the symmetry of the work. The Spider, therefore, clutches and holds on +to the rungs of a higher row; she picks up, one by one, as she goes +along, those which are of no more use to her and gathers them into a fine- +spun ball at the contact-point of the next spoke. Hence arises a series +of silky atoms marking the course of the disappearing spiral. + +The light has to fall favourably for us to perceive these specks, the +only remains of the ruined auxiliary thread. One would take them for +grains of dust, if the faultless regularity of their distribution did not +remind us of the vanished spiral. They continue, still visible, until +the final collapse of the net. + +And the Spider, without a stop of any kind, turns and turns and turns, +drawing nearer to the centre and repeating the operation of fixing her +thread at each spoke which she crosses. A good half-hour, an hour even +among the full-grown Spiders, is spent on spiral circles, to the number +of about fifty for the web of the Silky Epeira and thirty for those of +the Banded and the Angular Epeira. + +At last, at some distance from the centre, on the borders of what I have +called the resting-floor, the Spider abruptly terminates her spiral when +the space would still allow of a certain number of turns. We shall see +the reason of this sudden stop presently. Next, the Epeira, no matter +which, young or old, hurriedly flings herself upon the little central +cushion, pulls it out and rolls it into a ball which I expected to see +thrown away. But no: her thrifty nature does not permit this waste. She +eats the cushion, at first an inaugural landmark, then a heap of bits of +thread; she once more melts in the digestive crucible what is no doubt +intended to be restored to the silken treasury. It is a tough mouthful, +difficult for the stomach to elaborate; still, it is precious and must +not be lost. The work finishes with the swallowing. Then and there, the +Spider instals herself, head downwards, at her hunting-post in the centre +of the web. + +The operation which we have just seen gives rise to a reflection. Men +are born right-handed. Thanks to a lack of symmetry that has never been +explained, our right side is stronger and readier in its movements than +our left. The inequality is especially noticeable in the two hands. Our +language expresses this supremacy of the favoured side in the terms +dexterity, adroitness and address, all of which allude to the right hand. + +Is the animal, on its side, right-handed, left-handed, or unbiased? We +have had opportunities of showing that the Cricket, the Grasshopper and +many others draw their bow, which is on the right wing-case, over the +sounding apparatus, which is on the left wing-case. They are +right-handed. + +When you and I take an unpremeditated turn, we spin round on our right +heel. The left side, the weaker, moves on the pivot of the right, the +stronger. In the same way, nearly all the Molluscs that have spiral +shells roll their coils from left to right. Among the numerous species +in both land and water fauna, only a very few are exceptional and turn +from right to left. + +It would be interesting to try and work out to what extent that part of +the zoological kingdom which boasts a two-sided structure is divided into +right-handed and left-handed animals. Can dissymetry, that source of +contrasts, be a general rule? Or are there neutrals, endowed with equal +powers of skill and energy on both sides? Yes, there are; and the Spider +is one of them. She enjoys the very enviable privilege of possessing a +left side which is no less capable than the right. She is ambidextrous, +as witness the following observations. + +When laying her snaring-thread, every Epeira turns in either direction +indifferently, as a close watch will prove. Reasons whose secret escapes +us determine the direction adopted. Once this or the other course is +taken, the spinstress does not change it, even after incidents that +sometimes occur to disturb the progress of the work. It may happen that +a Gnat gets caught in the part already woven. The Spider thereupon +abruptly interrupts her labours, hastens up to the prey, binds it and +then returns to where she stopped and continues the spiral in the same +order as before. + +At the commencement of the work, gyration in one direction being employed +as well as gyration in the other, we see that, when making her repeated +webs, the same Epeira turns now her right side, now her left to the +centre of the coil. Well, as we have said, it is always with the inner +hind-leg, the leg nearer the centre, that is to say, in some cases the +right and in some cases the left leg, that she places the thread in +position, an exceedingly delicate operation calling for the display of +exquisite skill, because of the quickness of the action and the need for +preserving strictly equal distances. Any one seeing this leg working +with such extreme precision, the right leg to-day, the left to-morrow, +becomes convinced that the Epeira is highly ambidextrous. + + + + +CHAPTER X: THE GARDEN SPIDERS: MY NEIGHBOUR + + +Age does not modify the Epeira's talent in any essential feature. As the +young worked, so do the old, the richer by a year's experience. There +are no masters nor apprentices in their guild; all know their craft from +the moment that the first thread is laid. We have learnt something from +the novices: let us now look into the matter of their elders and see what +additional task the needs of age impose upon them. + +July comes and gives me exactly what I wish for. While the new +inhabitants are twisting their ropes on the rosemaries in the enclosure, +one evening, by the last gleams of twilight, I discover a splendid +Spider, with a mighty belly, just outside my door. This one is a matron; +she dates back to last year; her majestic corpulence, so exceptional at +this season, proclaims the fact. I know her for the Angular Epeira +(_Epeira angulata_, WALCK.), clad in grey and girdled with two dark +stripes that meet in a point at the back. The base of her abdomen swells +into a short nipple on either side. + +This neighbour will certainly serve my turn, provided that she do not +work too late at night. Things bode well: I catch the buxom one in the +act of laying her first threads. At this rate my success need not be won +at the expense of sleep. And, in fact, I am able, throughout the month +of July and the greater part of August, from eight to ten o'clock in the +evening, to watch the construction of the web, which is more or less +ruined nightly by the incidents of the chase and built up again, next +day, when too seriously dilapidated. + +During the two stifling months, when the light fails and a spell of +coolness follows upon the furnace-heat of the day, it is easy for me, +lantern in hand, to watch my neighbour's various operations. She has +taken up her abode, at a convenient height for observation, between a row +of cypress-trees and a clump of laurels, near the entrance to an alley +haunted by Moths. The spot appears well-chosen, for the Epeira does not +change it throughout the season, though she renews her net almost every +night. + +Punctually as darkness falls, our whole family goes and calls upon her. +Big and little, we stand amazed at her wealth of belly and her exuberant +somersaults in the maze of quivering ropes; we admire the faultless +geometry of the net as it gradually takes shape. All agleam in the +lantern-light, the work becomes a fairy orb, which seems woven of +moonbeams. + +Should I linger, in my anxiety to clear up certain details, the +household, which by this time is in bed, waits for my return before going +to sleep: + +'What has she been doing this evening?' I am asked. 'Has she finished +her web? Has she caught a Moth?' + +I describe what has happened. To-morrow, they will be in a less hurry to +go to bed: they will want to see everything, to the very end. What +delightful, simple evenings we have spent looking into the Spider's +workshop! + +The journal of the Angular Epeira, written up day by day, teaches us, +first of all, how she obtains the ropes that form the framework of the +building. 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 some time 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 wide-spread, 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. + +The desired result may be very slow in coming. It does not tire the +unfailing patience of the Epeira, but it soon wears out mine. And it has +happened to me sometimes to collaborate with the Spider. I pick up the +floating loop with a straw and lay it on a branch, at a convenient +height. The foot-bridge erected with my assistance is considered +satisfactory, just as though the wind had placed it. I count this +collaboration among the good actions standing to my credit. + +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. + +The laying of this cable is a somewhat difficult matter, because the +success of the enterprise does not depend upon the animal's industry +alone. It has to wait until a breeze carries the line to the pier-head +in the bushes. Sometimes, a calm prevails; sometimes, the thread catches +at an unsuitable point. This involves great expenditure of time, with no +certainty of success. And so, when once the suspension-cable is in +being, well and solidly placed, the Epeira does not change it, except on +critical occasions. Every evening, she passes and repasses over it, +strengthening it with fresh threads. + +When the Epeira cannot manage a fall of sufficient depth to give her the +double line with its loop to be fixed at a distance, she employs another +method. She lets herself down and then climbs up again, as we have +already seen; but, this time, the thread ends suddenly in a filmy hair- +pencil, a tuft, whose parts remain disjoined, just as they come from the +spinneret's rose. Then this sort of bushy fox's brush is cut short, as +though with a pair of scissors, and the whole thread, when unfurled, +doubles its length, which is now enough for the purpose. It is fastened +by the end joined to the Spider; the other floats in the air, with its +spreading tuft, which easily tangles in the bushes. Even so must the +Banded Epeira go to work when she throws her daring suspension-bridge +across a stream. + +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, the upper boundary of +the projected works, she lets herself slip to a slight depth, varying the +points of her fall. She climbs up again by the line produced by her +descent. The result of the operation is a double thread which is unwound +while the Spider walks along her big foot-bridge to the contact-branch, +where she fixes the free end of her thread more or less low down. 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 and placing her +produce in position as she goes. This results in a combination of +straight lines owning no order, save that they are kept in one, nearly +perpendicular plane. They mark a very irregular polygonal area, wherein +the web, itself a work of magnificent regularity, shall presently be +woven. + +It is unnecessary to go over the construction of the masterpiece again; +the younger Spiders have taught us enough in this respect. In both +cases, we see the same equidistant radii laid, with a central landmark +for a guide; the same auxiliary spiral, the scaffolding of temporary +rungs, soon doomed to disappear; the same snaring-spiral, with its maze +of closely-woven coils. Let us pass on: other details call for our +attention. + +The laying of the snaring-spiral is an exceedingly delicate operation, +because of the regularity of the work. I was bent upon knowing whether, +if subjected to the din of unaccustomed sounds, the Spider would hesitate +and blunder. Does she work imperturbably? Or does she need undisturbed +quiet? As it is, I know that my presence and that of my light hardly +trouble her at all. The sudden flashes emitted by my lantern have no +power to distract her from her task. She continues to turn in the light +even as she turned in the dark, neither faster nor slower. This is a +good omen for the experiment which I have in view. + +The first Sunday in August is the feast of the patron saint of the +village, commemorating the Finding of St. Stephen. This is Tuesday, the +third day of the rejoicings. There will be fireworks to-night, at nine +o'clock, to conclude the merry-makings. They will take place on the high- +road outside my door, at a few steps from the spot where my Spider is +working. The spinstress is busy upon her great spiral at the very moment +when the village big-wigs arrive with trumpet and drum and small boys +carrying torches. + +More interested in animal psychology than in pyrotechnical displays, I +watch the Epeira's doings, lantern in hand. The hullabaloo of the crowd, +the reports of the mortars, the crackle of Roman candles bursting in the +sky, the hiss of the rockets, the rain of sparks, the sudden flashes of +white, red or blue light: none of this disturbs the worker, who +methodically turns and turns again, just as she does in the peace of +ordinary evenings. + +Once before, the gun which I fired under the plane-trees failed to +trouble the concert of the Cicadae; to-day, the dazzling light of the +fire-wheels and the splutter of the crackers do not avail to distract the +Spider from her weaving. And, after all, what difference would it make +to my neighbour if the world fell in! The village could be blown up with +dynamite, without her losing her head for such a trifle. She would +calmly go on with her web. + +Let us return to the Spider manufacturing her net under the usual +tranquil conditions. The great spiral has been finished, abruptly, on +the confines of the resting-floor. The central cushion, a mat of ends of +saved thread, is next pulled up and eaten. But, before indulging in this +mouthful, which closes the proceedings, two Spiders, the only two of the +order, the Banded and the Silky Epeira, have still to sign their work. A +broad, white ribbon is laid, in a thick zigzag, from the centre to the +lower edge of the orb. Sometimes, but not always, a second band of the +same shape and of lesser length occupies the upper portion, opposite the +first. + +I like to look upon these odd flourishes as consolidating-gear. To begin +with, the young Epeirae never use them. For the moment, heedless of the +future and lavish of their silk, they remake their web nightly, even +though it be none too much dilapidated and might well serve again. A +brand-new snare at sunset is the rule with them. And there is little +need for increased solidity when the work has to be done again on the +morrow. + +On the other hand, in the late autumn, the full-grown Spiders, feeling +laying-time at hand, are driven to practise economy, in view of the great +expenditure of silk required for the egg-bag. Owing to its large size, +the net now becomes a costly work which it were well to use as long as +possible, for fear of finding one's reserves exhausted when the time +comes for the expensive construction of the nest. For this reason, or +for others which escape me, the Banded and the Silky Epeirae think it +wise to produce durable work and to strengthen their toils with a cross- +ribbon. The other Epeirae, who are put to less expense in the +fabrication of their maternal wallet--a mere pill--are unacquainted with +the zigzag binder and, like the younger Spiders, reconstruct their web +almost nightly. + +My fat neighbour, the Angular Epeira, consulted by the light of a +lantern, shall tell us how the renewal of the net proceeds. As the +twilight fades, she comes down cautiously from her day-dwelling; she +leaves the foliage of the cypresses for the suspension-cable of her +snare. Here she stands for some time; then, descending to her web, she +collects the wreckage in great armfuls. Everything--spiral, spokes and +frame--is raked up with her legs. One thing alone is spared and that is +the suspension-cable, the sturdy piece of work that has served as a +foundation for the previous buildings and will serve for the new after +receiving a few strengthening repairs. + +The collected ruins form a pill which the Spider consumes with the same +greed that she would show in swallowing her prey. Nothing remains. This +is the second instance of the Spiders' supreme economy of their silk. We +have seen them, after the manufacture of the net, eating the central +guide-post, a modest mouthful; we now see them gobbling up the whole web, +a meal. Refined and turned into fluid by the stomach, the materials of +the old net will serve for other purposes. + +As goon as the site is thoroughly cleared, the work of the frame and the +net begins on the support of the suspension-cable which was respected. +Would it not be simpler to restore the old web, which might serve many +times yet, if a few rents were just repaired? One would say so; but does +the Spider know how to patch her work, as a thrifty housewife darns her +linen? That is the question. + +To mend severed meshes, to replace broken threads, to adjust the new to +the old, in short, to restore the original order by assembling the +wreckage would be a far-reaching feat of prowess, a very fine proof of +gleams of intelligence, capable of performing rational calculations. Our +menders excel in this class of work. They have as their guide their +sense, which measures the holes, cuts the new piece to size and fits it +into its proper place. Does the Spider possess the counterpart of this +habit of clear thinking? + +People declare as much, without, apparently, looking into the matter very +closely. They seem able to dispense with the conscientious observer's +scruples, when inflating their bladder of theory. They go straight +ahead; and that is enough. As for ourselves, less greatly daring, we +will first enquire; we will see by experiment if the Spider really knows +how to repair her work. + +The Angular Epeira, that near neighbour who has already supplied me with +so many documents, has just finished her web, at nine o'clock in the +evening. It is a splendid night, calm and warm, favourable to the rounds +of the Moths. All promises good hunting. At the moment when, after +completing the great spiral, the Epeira is about to eat the central +cushion and settle down upon her resting-floor, I cut the web in two, +diagonally, with a pair of sharp scissors. The sagging of the spokes, +deprived of their counter-agents, produces an empty space, wide enough +for three fingers to pass through. + +The Spider retreats to her cable and looks on without being greatly +frightened. When I have done, she quietly returns. She takes her stand +on one of the halves, at the spot which was the centre of the original +orb; but, as her legs find no footing on one side, she soon realizes that +the snare is defective. Thereupon, two threads are stretched across the +breach, two threads, no more; the legs that lacked a foothold spread +across them; and henceforth the Epeira moves no more, devoting her +attention to the incidents of the chase. + +When I saw those two threads laid, joining the edges of the rent, I began +to hope that I was to witness a mending-process: + +'The Spider,' said I to myself, 'will increase the number of those cross- +threads from end to end of the breach; and, though the added piece may +not match the rest of the work, at least it will fill the gap and the +continuous sheet will be of the same use practically as the regular web.' + +The reality did not answer to my expectation. The spinstress made no +further endeavour all night. She hunted with her riven net, for what it +was worth; for I found the web next morning in the same condition wherein +I had left it on the night before. There had been no mending of any +kind. + +The two threads stretched across the breach even must not be taken for an +attempt at repairing. Finding no foothold for her legs on one side, the +Spider went to look into the state of things and, in so doing, crossed +the rent. In going and returning, she left a thread, as is the custom +with all the Epeirae when walking. It was not a deliberate mending, but +the mere result of an uneasy change of place. + +Perhaps the subject of my experiment thought it unnecessary to go to +fresh trouble and expense, for the web can serve quite well as it is, +after my scissor-cut: the two halves together represent the original +snaring-surface. All that the Spider, seated in a central position, need +do is to find the requisite support for her spread legs. The two threads +stretched from side to side of the cleft supply her with this, or nearly. +My mischief did not go far enough. Let us devise something better. + +Next day, the web is renewed, after the old one has been swallowed. When +the work is done and the Epeira seated motionless at her central post, I +take a straw and, wielding it dexterously, so as to respect the resting- +floor and the spokes, I pull and root up the spiral, which dangles in +tatters. With its snaring-threads ruined, the net is useless; no passing +Moth would allow herself to be caught. Now what does the Epeira do in +the face of this disaster? Nothing at all. Motionless on her resting- +floor, which I have left intact, she awaits the capture of the game; she +awaits it all night in vain on her impotent web. In the morning, I find +the snare as I left it. Necessity, the mother of invention, has not +prompted the Spider to make a slight repair in her ruined toils. + +Possibly this is asking too much of her resources. The silk-glands may +be exhausted after the laying of the great spiral; and to repeat the same +expenditure immediately is out of the question. I want a case wherein +there could be no appeal to any such exhaustion. I obtain it, thanks to +my assiduity. + +While I am watching the rolling of the spiral, a head of game rushes fun +tilt into the unfinished snare. The Epeira interrupts her work, hurries +to the giddy-pate, swathes him and takes her fill of him where he lies. +During the struggle, a section of the web has torn under the weaver's +very eyes. A great gap endangers the satisfactory working of the net. +What will the spider do in the presence of this grievous rent? + +Now or never is the time to repair the broken threads: the accident has +happened this very moment, between the animal's legs; it is certainly +known and, moreover, the rope-works are in full swing. This time there +is no question of the exhaustion of the silk-warehouse. + +Well, under these conditions, so favourable to darning, the Epeira does +no mending at all. She flings aside her prey, after taking a few sips at +it, and resumes her spiral at the point where she interrupted it to +attack the Moth. The torn part remains as it is. The machine-shuttle in +our looms does not revert to the spoiled fabric; even so with the Spider +working at her web. + +And this is no case of distraction, of individual carelessness; all the +large spinstresses suffer from a similar incapacity for patching. The +Banded Epeira and the Silky Epeira are noteworthy in this respect. The +Angular Epeira remakes her web nearly every evening; the other two +reconstruct theirs only very seldom and use them even when extremely +dilapidated. They go on hunting with shapeless rags. Before they bring +themselves to weave a new web, the old one has to be ruined beyond +recognition. Well, I have often noted the state of one of these ruins +and, the next morning, I have found it as it was, or even more +dilapidated. Never any repairs; never; never. I am sorry, because of +the reputation which our hard-pressed theorists have given her, but the +Spider is absolutely unable to mend her work. In spite of her thoughtful +appearance, the Epeira is incapable of the modicum of reflexion required +to insert a piece into an accidental gap. + +Other Spiders are unacquainted with wide-meshed nets and weave satins +wherein the threads, crossing at random, form a continuous substance. +Among this number is the House Spider (_Tegenaria domestica_, LIN.). In +the corners of our rooms, she stretches wide webs fixed by angular +extensions. The best-protected nook at one side contains the owner's +secret apartment. It is a silk tube, a gallery with a conical opening, +whence the Spider, sheltered from the eye, watches events. The rest of +the fabric, which exceeds our finest muslins in delicacy, is not, +properly speaking, a hunting-implement: it is a platform whereon the +Spider, attending to the affairs of her estate, goes her rounds, +especially at night. The real trap consists of a confusion of lines +stretched above the web. + +The snare, constructed according to other rules than in the case of the +Epeirae, also works differently. Here are no viscous threads, but plain +toils, rendered invisible by the very number. If a Gnat rush into the +perfidious entanglement, he is caught at once; and the more he struggles +the more firmly is he bound. The snareling falls on the sheet-web. +_Tegenaria_ hastens up and bites him in the neck. + +Having said this, let us experiment a little. In the web of the House +Spider, I make a round hole, two fingers wide. The hole remains yawning +all day long; but next morning it is invariably closed. An extremely +thin gauze covers the breach, the dark appearance of which contrasts with +the dense whiteness of the surrounding fabric. The gauze is so delicate +that, to make sure of its presence, I use a straw rather than my eyes. +The movement of the web, when this part is touched, proves the presence +of an obstacle. + +Here, the matter would appear obvious. The House Spider has mended her +work during the night; she has put a patch in the torn stuff, a talent +unknown to the Garden Spiders. It would be greatly to her credit, if a +mere attentive study did not lead to another conclusion. + +The web of the House Spider is, as we were saying, a platform for +watching and exploring; it is also a sheet into which the insects caught +in the overhead rigging fall. This surface, a domain subject to +unlimited shocks, is never strong enough, especially as it is exposed to +the additional burden of little bits of plaster loosened from the wall. +The owner is constantly working at it; she adds a new layer nightly. + +Every time that she issues from her tubular retreat or returns to it, she +fixes the thread that hangs behind her upon the road covered. As +evidence of this work, we have the direction of the surface-lines, all of +which, whether straight or winding, according to the fancies that guide +the Spider's path, converge upon the entrance of the tube. Each step +taken, beyond a doubt, adds a filament to the web. + +We have here the story of the Processionary of the Pine, {30} whose +habits I have related elsewhere. When the caterpillars leave the silk +pouch, to go and browse at night, and also when they enter it again, they +never fail to spin a little on the surface of their nest. Each +expedition adds to the thickness of the wall. + +When moving this way or that upon the purse which I have split from top +to bottom with my scissors, the Processionaries upholster the breach even +as they upholster the untouched part, without paying more attention to it +than to the rest of the wall. Caring nothing about the accident, they +behave in the same way as on a non-gutted dwelling. The crevice is +closed, in course of time, not intentionally, but solely by the action of +the usual spinning. + +We arrive at the same conclusion on the subject of the House Spider. +Walking about her platform every night, she lays fresh courses without +drawing a distinction between the solid and the hollow. She has not +deliberately put a patch in the torn texture; she has simply gone on with +her ordinary business. If it happen that the hole is eventually closed, +this fortunate result is the outcome not of a special purpose, but of an +unvarying method of work. + +Besides, it is evident that, if the Spider really wished to mend her web, +all her endeavours would be concentrated upon the rent. She would devote +to it all the silk at her disposal and obtain in one sitting a piece very +like the rest of the web. Instead of that, what do we find? Almost +nothing: a hardly visible gauze. + +The thing is obvious: the Spider did on that rent what she did every +elsewhere, neither more nor less. Far from squandering silk upon it, she +saved her silk so as to have enough for the whole web. The gap will be +better mended, little by little, afterwards, as the sheet is strengthened +all over with new layers. And this will take long. Two months later, +the window--my work--still shows through and makes a dark stain against +the dead-white of the fabric. + +Neither weavers nor spinners, therefore, know how to repair their work. +Those wonderful manufacturers of silk-stuffs lack the least glimmer of +that sacred lamp, reason, which enables the stupidest of darning-women to +mend the heel of an old stocking. The office of inspector of Spiders' +webs would have its uses, even if it merely succeeded in ridding us of a +mistaken and mischievous idea. + + + + +CHAPTER XI: THE GARDEN SPIDERS: THE LIME-SNARE + + +The spiral network of the Epeirae possesses contrivances of fearsome +cunning. Let us give our attention by preference to that of the Banded +Epeira or that of the Silky Epeira, both of which can be observed at +early morning in all their freshness. + +The thread that forms them 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? + +Let us first of all remember that the Spider has contrived for herself, +in the middle of her trap, a floor in whose construction the sticky +spiral thread plays no part. We saw how this thread stops suddenly at +some distance from the centre. There is here, covering a space which, in +the larger webs, is about equal to the palm of one's hand, a fabric +formed of spokes and of the commencement of the auxiliary spiral, 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, {31} 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 parts 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 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 +full-grown Banded and Silky 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. Both 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! + +Then, too, what a passion for production! Knowing the diameter of the +orb and the number of coils, we can easily calculate the total length of +the sticky spiral. We find that, in one sitting, each time that she +remakes her web, the Angular Epeira produces some twenty yards of gummy +thread. The more skilful Silky Epeira produces thirty. Well, during two +months, the Angular Epeira, my neighbour, renewed her snare nearly every +evening. During that period, she manufactured something like +three-quarters of a mile of this tubular thread, rolled into a tight +twist and bulging with glue. + +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 silky matter moulded into a capillary tube? How is +this tube filled with glue and tightly twisted? And how does this same +wire-mill also turn out plain threads, wrought first into a framework and +then into muslin and satin; next, a russet foam, such as fills the wallet +of the Banded Epeira; next, the black stripes stretched in meridian +curves on that same wallet? 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. + + + + +CHAPTER XII: THE GARDEN SPIDERS: 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 cumbersome 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 slope +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 her on the spot, after which the net is renewed. + +One of the Epeirae whom I have had the opportunity of examining +simplifies the system, while retaining the essential mechanism of a +transmission-thread. This is the Crater Epeira (_Epeira cratera_, +WALCK.), a species seen in spring, at which time she indulges especially +in the chase of the Domestic Bee, upon the flowering rosemaries. At the +leafy end of a branch, she builds a sort of silken shell, the shape and +size of an acorn-cup. This is where she sits, with her paunch contained +in the round cavity and her forelegs resting on the ledge, ready to leap. +The lazy creature loves this position and rarely stations herself head +downwards on the web, as do the others. Cosily ensconced in the hollow +of her cup, she awaits the approaching game. + +Her web, which is vertical, as is the rule among the Epeirae, is of a +fair size and always very near the bowl wherein the Spider takes her +ease. Moreover, it touches the bowl by means of an angular extension; +and the angle always contains one spoke which the Epeira, seated, so to +speak, in her crater, has constantly under her legs. This spoke, +springing from the common focus of the vibrations from all parts of the +network, is eminently fitted to keep the Spider informed of whatsoever +happens. It has a double office: it forms part of the Catherine-wheel +supporting the lime-threads and it warns the Epeira by its vibrations. A +special thread is here superfluous. + +The other snarers, on the contrary, 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 laurestine-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 +the 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. + +The occasion is too good not to find out, under better conditions as +regards approach, what the inhabitant of the cypress-trees has already +shown me. The next morning, I cut the telegraph-wire, this time as long +as one's arm and held, like yesterday, by one of the hind-legs stretched +outside the cabin. I then place on the web a double prey, a Dragon-fly +and a Locust. The latter kicks out with his long, spurred shanks; the +other flutters her wings. The web is tossed about to such an extent that +a number of leaves, just beside the Epeira's nest, move, shaken by the +threads of the framework affixed to them. + +And this vibration, though so close at hand, does not rouse the Spider in +the least, does not make her even turn round to enquire what is going on. +The moment that her signalling-thread ceases to work, she knows nothing +of passing events. All day long, she remains without stirring. In the +evening, at eight o'clock, she sallies forth to weave the new web and at +last finds the rich windfall whereof she was hitherto unaware. + +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 XIII: THE GARDEN SPIDERS: PAIRING AND HUNTING + + +Notwithstanding the importance of the subject, I shall not enlarge upon +the nuptials of the Epeirae, grim natures whose loves easily turn to +tragedy in the mystery of the night. I have but once been present at the +pairing and for this curious experience I must thank my lucky star and my +fat neighbour, the Angular Epeira, whom I visit so often by +lantern-light. Here you have it. + +It is the first week of August, at about nine o'clock in the evening, +under a perfect sky, in calm, hot weather. The Spider has not yet +constructed her web and is sitting motionless on her suspension-cable. +The fact that she should be slacking like this, at a time when her +building-operations ought to be in full swing, naturally astonishes me. +Can something unusual be afoot? + +Even so. I see hastening up from the neighbouring bushes and embarking +on the cable a male, a dwarf, who is coming, the whipper-snapper, to pay +his respects to the portly giantess. How has he, in his distant corner, +heard of the presence of the nymph ripe for marriage? Among the Spiders, +these things are learnt in the silence of the night, without a summons, +without a signal, none knows how. + +Once, the Great Peacock, {32} apprised by the magic effluvia, used to +come from miles around to visit the recluse in her bell-jar in my study. +The dwarf of this evening, that other nocturnal pilgrim, crosses the +intricate tangle of the branches without a mistake and makes straight for +the rope-walker. He has as his guide the infallible compass that brings +every Jack and his Jill together. + +He climbs the slope of the suspension-cord; he advances circumspectly, +step by step. He stops some distance away, irresolute. Shall he go +closer? Is this the right moment? No. The other lifts a limb and the +scared visitor hurries down again. Recovering from his fright, he climbs +up once more, draws a little nearer. More sudden flights, followed by +fresh approaches, each time nigher than before. This restless running to +and fro is the declaration of the enamoured swain. + +Perseverance spells success. The pair are now face to face, she +motionless and grave, he all excitement. With the tip of his leg, he +ventures to touch the plump wench. He has gone too far, daring youth +that he is! Panic-stricken, he takes a header, hanging by his safety- +line. It is only for a moment, however. Up he comes again. He has +learnt, from certain symptoms, that we are at last yielding to his +blandishments. + +With his legs and especially with his palpi, or feelers, he teases the +buxom gossip, who answers with curious skips and bounds. Gripping a +thread with her front tarsi, or fingers, she turns, one after the other, +a number of back somersaults, like those of an acrobat on the trapeze. +Having done this, she presents the under-part of her paunch to the dwarf +and allows him to fumble at it a little with his feelers. Nothing more: +it is done. + +The object of the expedition is attained. The whipper-snapper makes off +at full speed, as though he had the Furies at his heels. If he remained, +he would presumably be eaten. These exercises on the tight-rope are not +repeated. I kept watch in vain on the following evenings: I never saw +the fellow again. + +When he is gone, the bride descends from the cable, spins her web and +assumes the hunting-attitude. We must eat to have silk, we must have +silk to eat and especially to weave the expensive cocoon of the family. +There is therefore no rest, not even after the excitement of being +married. + +The Epeirae are monuments of patience in their lime-snare. With her head +down and her eight legs wide-spread, 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 her 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 day-light 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? See, 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. + +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 practise 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 {33} 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 paralyzers, 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, every one +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 paralyzers 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 clearly 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, as 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' 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, rechewed 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 +{34} their Cetonia- and Oryctes-grubs. Even so the other paralyzers. +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_ {35} 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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV: THE GARDEN SPIDERS: THE QUESTION OF PROPERTY + + +A dog has found a bone. He lies in the shade, holding it between his +paws, and studies it fondly. It is his sacred property, his chattel. An +Epeira has woven her web. Here again is property; and owning a better +title than the other. Favoured by chance and assisted by his scent, the +Dog has merely had a find; he has neither worked nor paid for it. The +Spider is more than a casual owner, she has created what is hers. Its +substance issued from her body, its structure from her brain. If ever +property was sacrosanct, hers is. + +Far higher stands the work of the weaver of ideas, who tissues a book, +that other Spider's web, and out of his thought makes something that +shall instruct or thrill us. To protect our 'bone,' we have the police, +invented for the express purpose. To protect the book, we have none but +farcical means. Place a few bricks one atop the other; join them with +mortar; and the law will defend your wall. Build up in writing an +edifice of your thoughts; and it will be open to any one, without serious +impediment, to abstract stones from it, even to take the whole, if it +suit him. A rabbit-hutch is property; the work of the mind is not. If +the animal has eccentric views as regards the possessions of others, we +have ours as well. + +'Might always has the best of the argument,' said La Fontaine, to the +great scandal of the peace-lovers. The exigencies of verse, rhyme and +rhythm, carried the worthy fabulist further than he intended: he meant to +say that, in a fight between mastiffs and in other brute conflicts, the +stronger is left master of the bone. He well knew that, as things go, +success is no certificate of excellence. Others came, the notorious evil- +doers of humanity, who made a law of the savage maxim that might is +right. + +We are the larvae with the changing skins, the ugly caterpillars of a +society that is slowly, very slowly, wending its way to the triumph of +right over might. When will this sublime metamorphosis be accomplished? +To free ourselves from those wild-beast brutalities, must we wait for the +ocean-plains of the southern hemisphere to flow to our side, changing the +face of continents and renewing the glacial period of the Reindeer and +the Mammoth? Perhaps, so slow is moral progress. + +True, we have the bicycle, the motor-car, the dirigible airship and other +marvellous means of breaking our bones; but our morality is not one rung +the higher for it all. One would even say that, the farther we proceed +in our conquest of matter, the more our morality recedes. The most +advanced of our inventions consists in bringing men down with grapeshot +and explosives with the swiftness of the reaper mowing the corn. + +Would we see this might triumphant in all its beauty? Let us spend a few +weeks in the Epeira's company. She is the owner of a web, her work, her +most lawful property. The question at once presents itself: Does the +Spider possibly recognize her fabric by certain trademarks and +distinguish it from that of her fellows? + +I bring about a change of webs between two neighbouring Banded Epeirae. +No sooner is either placed upon the strange net than she makes for the +central floor, settles herself head downwards and does not stir from it, +satisfied with her neighbour's web as with her own. Neither by day nor +by night does she try to shift her quarters and restore matters to their +pristine state. Both Spiders think themselves in their own domain. The +two pieces of work are so much alike that I almost expected this. + +I then decide to effect an exchange of webs between two different +species. I move the Banded Epeira to the net of the Silky Epeira and +vice versa. The two webs are now dissimilar; the Silky Epeira's has a +limy spiral consisting of closer and more numerous circles. What will +the Spiders do, when thus put to the test of the unknown? One would +think that, when one of them found meshes too wide for her under her +feet, the other meshes too narrow, they would be frightened by this +sudden change and decamp in terror. Not at all. Without a sign of +perturbation, they remain, plant themselves in the centre and await the +coming of the game, as though nothing extraordinary had happened. They +do more than this. Days pass and, as long as the unfamiliar web is not +wrecked to the extent of being unserviceable, they make no attempt to +weave another in their own style. The Spider, therefore, is incapable of +recognizing her web. She takes another's work for hers, even when it is +produced by a stranger to her race. + +We now come to the tragic side of this confusion. Wishing to have +subjects for study within my daily reach and to save myself the trouble +of casual excursions, I collect different Epeirae whom I find in the +course of my walks and establish them on the shrubs in my enclosure. In +this way, a rosemary-hedge, sheltered from the wind and facing the sun, +is turned into a well-stocked menagerie. I take the Spiders from the +paper bags wherein I had put them separately, to carry them, and place +them on the leaves, with no further precaution. It is for them to make +themselves at home. As a rule, they do not budge all day from the place +where I put them: they wait for nightfall before seeking a suitable site +whereon to weave a net. + +Some among them show less patience. A little while ago, they possessed a +web, between the reeds of a brook or in the holm-oak copses; and now they +have none. They go off in search, to recover their property or seize on +some one else's: it is all the same to them. I come upon a Banded +Epeira, newly imported, making for the web of a Silky Epeira who has been +my guest for some days now. The owner is at her post, in the centre of +the net. She awaits the stranger with seeming impassiveness. Then +suddenly they grip each other; and a desperate fight begins. The Silky +Epeira is worsted. The other swathes her in bonds, drags her to the non- +limy central floor and, in the calmest fashion, eats her. The dead +Spider is munched for twenty-four hours and drained to the last drop, +when the corpse, a wretched, crumpled ball, is at last flung aside. The +web so foully conquered becomes the property of the stranger, who uses +it, if it have not suffered too much in the contest. + +There is here a shadow of an excuse. The two Spiders were of different +species; and the struggle for life often leads to these exterminations +among such as are not akin. What would happen if the two belonged to the +same species? It is easily seen. I cannot rely upon spontaneous +invasions, which may be rare under normal conditions, and I myself place +a Banded Epeira on her kinswoman's web. A furious attack is made +forthwith. Victory, after hanging for a moment in the balance, is once +again decided in the stranger's favour. The vanquished party, this time +a sister, is eaten without the slightest scruple. Her web becomes the +property of the victor. + +There it is, in all its horror, the right of might: to eat one's like and +take away their goods. Man did the same in days of old: he stripped and +ate his fellows. We continue to rob one another, both as nations and as +individuals; but we no longer eat one another: the custom has grown +obsolete since we discovered an acceptable substitute in the mutton-chop. + +Let us not, however, blacken the Spider beyond her deserts. She does not +live by warring on her kith and kin; she does not of her own accord +attempt the conquest of another's property. It needs extraordinary +circumstances to rouse her to these villainies. I take her from her web +and place her on another's. From that moment, she knows no distinction +between _meum_ and _tuum_: the thing which the leg touches at once +becomes real estate. And the intruder, if she be the stronger, ends by +eating the occupier, a radical means of cutting short disputes. + +Apart from disturbances similar to those provoked by myself, disturbances +that are possible in the everlasting conflict of events, the Spider, +jealous of her own web, seems to respect the webs of others. She never +indulges in brigandage against her fellows except when dispossessed of +her net, especially in the daytime, for weaving is never done by day: +this work is reserved for the night. When, however, she is deprived of +her livelihood and feels herself the stronger, then she attacks her +neighbour, rips her open, feeds on her and takes possession of her goods. +Let us make allowances and proceed. + +We will now examine Spiders of more alien habits. The Banded and the +Silky Epeira differ greatly in form and colouring. The first has a +plump, olive-shaped belly, richly belted with white, bright-yellow and +black; the second's abdomen is flat, of a silky white and pinked into +festoons. Judging only by dress and figure, we should not think of +closely connecting the two Spiders. + +But high above shapes tower tendencies, those main characteristics which +our methods of classification, so particular about minute details of +form, ought to consult more widely than they do. The two dissimilar +Spiders have exactly similar ways of living. Both of them prefer to hunt +by day and never leave their webs; both sign their work with a zigzag +flourish. Their nets are almost identical, so much so that the Banded +Epeira uses the Silky Epeira's web after eating its owner. The Silky +Epeira, on her side, when she is the stronger, dispossesses her belted +cousin and devours her. Each is at home on the other's web, when the +argument of might triumphant has ended the discussion. + +Let us next take the case of the Cross Spider, a hairy beast of varying +shades of reddish-brown. She has three large white spots upon her back, +forming a triple-barred cross. She hunts mostly at night, shuns the sun +and lives by day on the adjacent shrubs, in a shady retreat which +communicates with the lime-snare by means of a telegraph-wire. Her web +is very similar in structure and appearance to those of the two others. +What will happen if I procure her the visit of a Banded Epeira? + +The lady of the triple cross is invaded by day, in the full light of the +sun, thanks to my mischievous intermediary. The web is deserted; the +proprietress is in her leafy hut. The telegraph-wire performs its +office; the Cross Spider hastens down, strides all round her property, +beholds the danger and hurriedly returns to her hiding-place, without +taking any measures against the intruder. + +The latter, on her side, does not seem to be enjoying herself. Were she +placed on the web of one of her sisters, or even on that of the Silky +Epeira, she would have posted herself in the centre, as soon as the +struggle had ended in the other's death. This time there is no struggle, +for the web is deserted; nothing prevents her from taking her position in +the centre, the chief strategic point; and yet she does not move from the +place where I put her. + +I tickle her gently with the tip of a long straw. When at home, if +teased in this way, the Banded Epeira--like the others, for that +matter--violently shakes the web to intimidate the aggressor. This time, +nothing happens: despite my repeated enticements, the Spider does not +stir a limb. It is as though she were numbed with terror. And she has +reason to be: the other is watching her from her lofty loop-hole. + +This is probably not the only cause of her fright. When my straw does +induce her to take a few steps, I see her lift her legs with some +difficulty. She tugs a bit, drags her tarsi till she almost breaks the +supporting threads. It is not the progress of an agile rope-walker; it +is the hesitating gait of entangled feet. Perhaps the lime-threads are +stickier than in her own web. The glue is of a different quality; and +her sandals are not greased to the extent which the new degree of +adhesiveness would demand. + +Anyhow, things remain as they are for long hours on end: the Banded +Epeira motionless on the edge of the web; the other lurking in her hut; +both apparently most uneasy. At sunset, the lover of darkness plucks up +courage. She descends from her green tent and, without troubling about +the stranger, goes straight to the centre of the web, where the telegraph- +wire brings her. Panic-stricken at this apparition, the Banded Epeira +releases herself with a jerk and disappears in the rosemary-thicket. + +The experiment, though repeatedly renewed with different subjects, gave +me no other results. Distrustful of a web dissimilar to her own, if not +in structure, at least in stickiness, the bold Banded Epeira shows the +white feather and refuses to attack the Cross Spider. The latter, on her +side, either does not budge from her day shelter in the foliage, or else +rushes back to it, after taking a hurried glance at the stranger. She +here awaits the coming of the night. Under favour of the darkness, which +gives her fresh courage and activity, she reappears upon the scene and +puts the intruder to flight by her mere presence, aided, if need be, by a +cuff or two. Injured right is the victor. + +Morality is satisfied; but let us not congratulate the Spider therefore. +If the invader respects the invaded, it is because very serious reasons +impel her. First, she would have to contend with an adversary ensconced +in a stronghold whose ambushes are unknown to the assailant. Secondly, +the web, if conquered, would be inconvenient to use, because of the lime- +threads, possessing a different degree of stickiness from those which she +knows so well. To risk one's skin for a thing of doubtful value were +twice foolish. The Spider knows this and forbears. + +But let the Banded Epeira, deprived of her web, come upon that of one of +her kind or of the Silky Epeira, who works her gummy twine in the same +manner: then discretion is thrown to the winds; the owner is fiercely +ripped open and possession taken of the property. + +Might is right, says the beast; or, rather, it knows no right. The +animal world is a rout of appetites, acknowledging no other rein than +impotence. Mankind, alone capable of emerging from the slough of the +instincts, is bringing equity into being, is creating it slowly as its +conception grows clearer. Out of the sacred rushlight, so flickering as +yet, but gaining strength from age to age, man will make a flaming torch +that will put an end, among us, to the principles of the brutes and, one +day, utterly change the face of society. + + + + +CHAPTER XV: THE LABYRINTH SPIDER + + +While the Epeirae, with their gorgeous net-tapestries, are incomparable +weavers, many other Spiders excel in ingenious devices for filling their +stomachs and leaving a lineage behind them: the two primary laws of +living things. Some of them are celebrities of long-standing renown, who +are mentioned in all the books. + +Certain Mygales {36} inhabit a burrow, like the Narbonne Lycosa, but of a +perfection unknown to the brutal Spider of the waste-lands. The Lycosa +surrounds the mouth of her shaft with a simple parapet, a mere collection +of tiny pebbles, sticks and silk; the others fix a movable door to +theirs, a round shutter with a hinge, a groove and a set of bolts. When +the Mygale comes home, the lid drops into the groove and fits so exactly +that there is no possibility of distinguishing the join. If the +aggressor persist and seek to raise the trap-door, the recluse pushes the +bolt, that is to say, plants her claws into certain holes on the opposite +side to the hinge, props herself against the wall and holds the door +firmly. + +Another, the Argyroneta, or Water Spider, builds herself an elegant +silken diving-bell, in which she stores air. Thus supplied with the +wherewithal to breathe, she awaits the coming of the game and keeps +herself cool meanwhile. At times of scorching heat, hers must be a +regular sybaritic abode, such as eccentric man has sometimes ventured to +build under water, with mighty blocks of stone and marble. The submarine +palaces of Tiberius are no more than an odious memory; the Water Spider's +dainty cupola still flourishes. + +If I possessed documents derived from personal observation, I should like +to speak of these ingenious workers; I would gladly add a few unpublished +facts to their life-history. But I must abandon the idea. The Water +Spider is not found in my district. The Mygale, the expert in hinged +doors, is found there, but very seldom. I saw one once, on the edge of a +path skirting a copse. Opportunity, as we know, is fleeting. The +observer, more than any other, is obliged to take it by the forelock. +Preoccupied as I was with other researches, I but gave a glance at the +magnificent subject which good fortune offered. The opportunity fled and +has never returned. + +Let us make up for it with trivial things of frequent encounter, a +condition favourable to consecutive study. What is common is not +necessarily unimportant. Give it our sustained attention and we shall +discover in it merits which our former ignorance prevented us from +seeing. When patiently entreated, the least of creatures adds its note +to the harmonies of life. + +In the fields around, traversed, in these days, with a tired step, but +still vigilantly explored, I find nothing so often as the Labyrinth +Spider (_Agelena labyrinthica_, CLERCK.). Not a hedge but shelters a few +at its foot, amidst grass, in quiet, sunny nooks. In the open country +and especially in hilly places laid bare by the wood-man's axe, the +favourite sites are tufts of bracken, rock-rose, lavender, everlasting +and rosemary cropped close by the teeth of the flocks. This is where I +resort, as the isolation and kindliness of the supports lend themselves +to proceedings which might not be tolerated by the unfriendly hedge. + +Several times a week, in July, I go to study my Spiders on the spot, at +an early hour, before the sun beats fiercely on one's neck. The children +accompany me, each provided with an orange wherewith to slake the thirst +that will not be slow in coming. They lend me their good eyes and supple +limbs. The expedition promises to be fruitful. + +We soon discover high silk buildings, betrayed at a distance by the +glittering threads which the dawn has converted into dewy rosaries. The +children are wonderstruck at those glorious chandeliers, so much so that +they forget their oranges for a moment. Nor am I, on my part, +indifferent. A splendid spectacle indeed is that of our Spider's +labyrinth, heavy with the tears of the night and lit up by the first rays +of the sun. Accompanied as it is by the Thrushes' symphony, this alone +is worth getting up for. + +Half an hour's heat; and the magic jewels disappear with the dew. Now is +the moment to inspect the webs. Here is one spreading its sheet over a +large cluster of rock-roses; it is the size of a handkerchief. A +profusion of guy-ropes, attached to any chance projection, moor it to the +brushwood. There is not a twig but supplies a contact-point. Entwined +on every side, surrounded and surmounted, the bush disappears from view, +veiled in white muslin. + +The web is flat at the edges, as far as the unevenness of the support +permits, and gradually hollows into a crater, not unlike the bell of a +hunting-horn. The central portion is a cone-shaped gulf, a funnel whose +neck, narrowing by degrees, dives perpendicularly into the leafy thicket +to a depth of eight or nine inches. + +At the entrance to the tube, in the gloom of that murderous alley, sits +the Spider, who looks at us and betrays no great excitement at our +presence. She is grey, modestly adorned on the thorax with two black +ribbons and on the abdomen with two stripes in which white specks +alternate with brown. At the tip of the belly, two small, mobile +appendages form a sort of tail, a rather curious feature in a Spider. + +The crater-shaped web is not of the same structure throughout. At the +borders, it is a gossamer weft of sparse threads; nearer the centre, the +texture becomes first fine muslin and then satin; lower still, on the +narrower part of the opening, it is a network of roughly lozenged meshes. +Lastly, the neck of the funnel, the usual resting-place, is formed of +solid silk. + +The Spider never ceases working at her carpet, which represents her +investigation-platform. Every night she goes to it, walks over it, +inspecting her snares, extending her domain and increasing it with new +threads. The work is done with the silk constantly hanging from the +spinnerets and constantly extracted as the animal moves about. The neck +of the funnel, being more often walked upon than the rest of the +dwelling, is therefore provided with a thicker upholstery. Beyond it are +the slopes of the crater, which are also much-frequented regions. Spokes +of some regularity fix the diameter of the mouth; a swaying walk and the +guiding aid of the caudal appendages have laid lozengy meshes across +these spokes. This part has been strengthened by the nightly rounds of +inspection. Lastly come the less-visited expanses, which consequently +have a thinner carpet. + +At the bottom of the passage dipping into the brushwood, we might expect +to find a secret cabin, a wadded cell where the Spider would take refuge +in her hours of leisure. The reality is something entirely different. +The long funnel-neck gapes at its lower end, where a private door stands +always ajar, allowing the animal, when hard-pushed, to escape through the +grass and gain the open. + +It is well to know this arrangement of the home, if you wish to capture +the Spider without hurting her. When attacked from the front, the +fugitive runs down and slips through the postern-gate at the bottom. To +look for her by rummaging in the brushwood often leads to nothing, so +swift is her flight; besides, a blind search entails a great risk of +maiming her. Let us eschew violence, which is but seldom successful, and +resort to craft. + +We catch sight of the Spider at the entrance to her tube. If +practicable, squeeze the bottom of the tuft, containing the neck of the +funnel, with both hands. That is enough; the animal is caught. Feeling +its retreat cut off, it readily darts into the paper bag held out to it; +if necessary, it can be stimulated with a bit of straw. In this way, I +fill my cages with subjects that have not been demoralized by contusions. + +The surface of the crater is not exactly a snare. It is just possible +for the casual pedestrian to catch his legs in the silky carpets; but +giddy-pates who come here for a walk must be very rare. What is wanted +is a trap capable of securing the game that hops or flies. The Epeira +has her treacherous limed net; the Spider of the bushes has her no less +treacherous labyrinth. + +Look above the web. What a forest of ropes! It might be the rigging of +a ship disabled by a storm. They run from every twig of the supporting +shrubs, they are fastened to the tip of every branch. There are long +ropes and short ropes, upright and slanting, straight and bent, taut and +slack, all criss-cross and a-tangle, to the height of three feet or so in +inextricable disorder. The whole forms a chaos of netting, a labyrinth +which none can pass through, unless he be endowed with wings of +exceptional power. + +We have here nothing similar to the lime-threads used by the Garden +Spiders. The threads are not sticky; they act only by their confused +multitude. Would you care to see the trap at work? Throw a small Locust +into the rigging. Unable to obtain a steady foothold on that shaky +support, he flounders about; and the more he struggles the more he +entangles his shackles. The Spider, spying on the threshold of her +abyss, lets him have his way. She does not run up the shrouds of the +mast-work to seize the desperate prisoner; she waits until his bonds of +threads, twisted backwards and forwards, make him fall on the web. + +He falls; the other comes and flings herself upon her prostrate prey. The +attack is not without danger. The Locust is demoralized rather than tied +up; it is merely bits of broken thread that he is trailing from his legs. +The bold assailant does not mind. Without troubling, like the Epeirae, +to bury her capture under a paralysing winding-sheet, she feels it, to +make sure of its quality, and then, regardless of kicks, inserts her +fangs. + +The bite is usually given at the lower end of a haunch: not that this +place is more vulnerable than any other thin-skinned part, but probably +because it has a better flavour. The different webs which I inspect to +study the food in the larder show me, among other joints, various Flies +and small Butterflies and carcasses of almost-untouched Locusts, all +deprived of their hind-legs, or at least of one. Locusts' legs often +dangle, emptied of their succulent contents, on the edges of the web, +from the meat-hooks of the butcher's shop. In my urchin-days, days free +from prejudices in regard to what one ate, I, like many others, was able +to appreciate that dainty. It is the equivalent, on a very small scale, +of the larger legs of the Crayfish. + +The rigging-builder, therefore, to whom we have just thrown a Locust +attacks the prey at the lower end of a thigh. The bite is a lingering +one: once the Spider has planted her fangs, she does not let go. She +drinks, she sips, she sucks. When this first point is drained, she +passes on to others, to the second haunch in particular, until the prey +becomes an empty hulk without losing its outline. + +We have seen that Garden Spiders feed in a similar way, bleeding their +venison and drinking it instead of eating it. At last, however, in the +comfortable post-prandial hours, they take up the drained morsel, chew +it, rechew it and reduce it to a shapeless ball. It is a dessert for the +teeth to toy with. The Labyrinth Spider knows nothing of the diversions +of the table; she flings the drained remnants out of her web, without +chewing them. Although it lasts long, the meal is eaten in perfect +safety. From the first bite, the Locust becomes a lifeless thing; the +Spider's poison has settled him. + +The labyrinth is greatly inferior, as a work of art, to that advanced +geometrical contrivance, the Garden Spider's net; and, in spite of its +ingenuity, it does not give a favourable notion of its constructor. It +is hardly more than a shapeless scaffolding, run up anyhow. And yet, +like the others, the builder of this slovenly edifice must have her own +principles of beauty and accuracy. As it is, the prettily-latticed mouth +of the crater makes us suspect this; the nest, the mother's usual +masterpiece, will prove it to the full. + +When laying-time is at hand, the Spider changes her residence; she +abandons her web in excellent condition; she does not return to it. Whoso +will can take possession of the house. The hour has come to found the +family-establishment. But where? The Spider knows right well; I am in +the dark. Mornings are spent in fruitless searches. In vain I ransack +the bushes that carry the webs: I never find aught that realizes my +hopes. + +I learn the secret at last. I chance upon a web which, though deserted, +is not yet dilapidated, proving that it has been but lately quitted. +Instead of hunting in the brushwood whereon it rests, let us inspect the +neighbourhood, to a distance of a few paces. If these contain a low, +thick cluster, the nest is there, hidden from the eye. It carries an +authentic certificate of its origin, for the mother invariably occupies +it. + +By this method of investigation, far from the labyrinth-trap, I become +the owner of as many nests as are needed to satisfy my curiosity. They +do not by a long way come up to my idea of the maternal talent. They are +clumsy bundles of dead leaves, roughly drawn together with silk threads. +Under this rude covering is a pouch of fine texture containing the egg- +casket, all in very bad condition, because of the inevitable tears +incurred in its extrication from the brushwood. No, I shall not be able +to judge of the artist's capacity by these rags and tatters. + +The insect, in its buildings, has its own architectural rules, rules as +unchangeable as anatomical peculiarities. Each group builds according to +the same set of principles, conforming to the laws of a very elementary +system of aesthetics; but often circumstances beyond the architect's +control--the space at her disposal, the unevenness of the site, the +nature of the material and other accidental causes--interfere with the +worker's plans and disturb the structure. Then virtual regularity is +translated into actual chaos; order degenerates into disorder. + +We might discover an interesting subject of research in the type adopted +by each species when the work is accomplished without hindrances. The +Banded Epeira weaves the wallet of her eggs in the open, on a slim branch +that does not get in her way; and her work is a superbly artistic jar. +The Silky Epeira also has all the elbow-room she needs; and her +paraboloid is not without elegance. Can the Labyrinth Spider, that other +spinstress of accomplished merit, be ignorant of the precepts of beauty +when the time comes for her to weave a tent for her offspring? As yet, +what I have seen of her work is but an unsightly bundle. Is that all she +can do? + +I look for better things if circumstances favour her. Toiling in the +midst of a dense thicket, among a tangle of dead leaves and twigs, she +may well produce a very inaccurate piece of work; but compel her to +labour when free from all impediment: she will then--I am convinced of it +beforehand--apply her talents without constraint and show herself an +adept in the building of graceful nests. + +As laying-time approaches, towards the middle of August, I instal half-a- +dozen Labyrinth Spiders in large wire-gauze cages, each standing in an +earthen pan filled with sand. A sprig of thyme, planted in the centre, +will furnish supports for the structure, together with the trellis-work +of the top and sides. There is no other furniture, no dead leaves, which +would spoil the shape of the nest if the mother were minded to employ +them as a covering. By way of provision, Locusts, every day. They are +readily accepted, provided they be tender and not too large. + +The experiment works perfectly. August is hardly over before I am in +possession of six nests, magnificent in shape and of a dazzling +whiteness. The latitude of the workshop has enabled the spinstress to +follow the inspiration of her instinct without serious obstacles; and the +result is a masterpiece of symmetry and elegance, if we allow for a few +angularities demanded by the suspension-points. + +It is an oval of exquisite white muslin, a diaphanous abode wherein the +mother must make a long stay to watch over the brood. The size is nearly +that of a Hen's egg. The cabin is open at either end. The +front-entrance broadens into a gallery; the back-entrance tapers into a +funnel-neck. I fail to see the object of this neck. As for the opening +in front, which is wider, this is, beyond a doubt, a victualling-door. I +see the Spider, at intervals, standing here on the look-out for the +Locust, whom she consumes outside, taking care not to soil the spotless +sanctuary with corpses. + +The structure of the nest is not without a certain similarity to that of +the home occupied during the hunting-season. The passage at the back +represents the funnel-neck, that ran almost down to the ground and +afforded an outlet for flight in case of grave danger. The one in front, +expanding into a mouth kept wide open by cords stretched backwards and +forwards, recalls the yawning gulf into which the victims used to fall. +Every part of the old dwelling is repeated: even the labyrinth, though +this, it is true, is on a much smaller scale. In front of the +bell-shaped mouth is a tangle of threads wherein the passers-by are +caught. Each species, in this way, possesses a primary architectural +model which is followed as a whole, in spite of altered conditions. The +animal knows its trade thoroughly, but it does not know and will never +know aught else, being incapable of originality. + +Now this palace of silk, when all is said, is nothing more than a guard- +house. Behind the soft, milky opalescence of the wall glimmers the egg- +tabernacle, with its form vaguely suggesting the star of some order of +knighthood. It is a large pocket, of a splendid dead-white, isolated on +every side by radiating pillars which keep it motionless in the centre of +the tapestry. These pillars are about ten in number and are slender in +the middle, expanding at one end into a conical capital and at the other +into a base of the same shape. They face one another and mark the +position of the vaulted corridors which allow free movement in every +direction around the central chamber. The mother walks gravely to and +fro under the arches of her cloisters, she stops first here, then there; +she makes a lengthy auscultation of the egg-wallet; she listens to all +that happens inside the satin wrapper. To disturb her would be +barbarous. + +For a closer examination, let us use the dilapidated nests which we +brought from the fields. Apart from its pillars, the egg-pocket is an +inverted conoid, reminding us of the work of the Silky Epeira. Its +material is rather stout; my pincers, pulling at it, do not tear it +without difficulty. Inside the bag there is nothing but an extremely +fine, white wadding and, lastly, the eggs, numbering about a hundred and +comparatively large, for they measure a millimetre and a half. {37} They +are very pale amber-yellow beads, which do not stick together and which +roll freely as soon as I remove the swan's-down shroud. Let us put +everything into a glass-tube to study the hatching. + +We will now retrace our steps a little. When laying-time comes, the +mother forsakes her dwelling, her crater into which her falling victims +dropped, her labyrinth in which the flight of the Midges was cut short; +she leaves intact the apparatus that enabled her to live at her ease. +Thoughtful of her natural duties, she goes to found another establishment +at a distance. Why at a distance? + +She has still a few long months to live and she needs nourishment. Were +it not better, then, to lodge the eggs in the immediate neighbourhood of +the present home and to continue her hunting with the excellent snare at +her disposal? The watching of the nest and the easy acquisition of +provender would go hand in hand. The Spider is of another opinion; and I +suspect the reason. + +The sheet-net and the labyrinth that surmounts it are objects visible +from afar, owing to their whiteness and the height whereat they are +placed. Their scintillation in the sun, in frequented paths, attracts +Mosquitoes and Butterflies, like the lamps in our rooms and the fowler's +looking-glass. Whoso comes to look at the bright thing too closely dies +the victim of his curiosity. There is nothing better for playing upon +the folly of the passer-by, but also nothing more dangerous to the safety +of the family. + +Harpies will not fail to come running at this signal, showing up against +the green; guided by the position of the web, they will assuredly find +the precious purse; and a strange grub, feasting on a hundred new-laid +eggs, will ruin the establishment. I do not know these enemies, not +having sufficient materials at my disposal for a register of the +parasites; but, from indications gathered elsewhere, I suspect them. + +The Banded Epeira, trusting to the strength of her stuff, fixes her nest +in the sight of all, hangs it on the brushwood, taking no precautions +whatever to hide it. And a bad business it proves for her. Her jar +provides me with an Ichneumon {38} possessed of the inoculating larding- +pin: a _Cryptus_ who, as a grub, had fed on Spiders' eggs. Nothing but +empty shells was left inside the central keg; the germs were completely +exterminated. There are other Ichneumon-flies, moreover, addicted to +robbing Spiders' nests; a basket of fresh eggs is their offspring's +regular food. + +Like any other, the Labyrinth Spider dreads the scoundrelly advent of the +pickwallet; she provides for it and, to shield herself against it as far +as possible, chooses a hiding-place outside her dwelling, far removed +from the tell-tale web. When she feels her ovaries ripen, she shifts her +quarters; she goes off at night to explore the neighbourhood and seek a +less dangerous refuge. The points selected are, by preference, the low +brambles dragging along the ground, keeping their dense verdure during +the winter and crammed with dead leaves from the oaks hard by. Rosemary- +tufts, which gain in thickness what they lose in height on the +unfostering rock, suit her particularly. This is where I usually find +her nest, not without long seeking, so well is it hidden. + +So far, there is no departure from current usage. As the world is full +of creatures on the prowl for tender mouthfuls, every mother has her +apprehensions; she also has her natural wisdom, which advises her to +establish her family in secret places. Very few neglect this precaution; +each, in her own manner, conceals the eggs she lays. + +In the case of the Labyrinth Spider, the protection of the brood is +complicated by another condition. In the vast majority of instances, the +eggs, once lodged in a favourable spot, are abandoned to themselves, left +to the chances of good or ill fortune. The Spider of the brushwood, on +the contrary, endowed with greater maternal devotion, has, like the Crab +Spider, to mount guard over hers until they hatch. + +With a few threads and some small leaves joined together, the Crab Spider +builds, above her lofty nest, a rudimentary watch-tower where she stays +permanently, greatly emaciated, flattened into a sort of wrinkled shell +through the emptying of her ovaries and the total absence of food. And +this mere shred, hardly more than a skin that persists in living without +eating, stoutly defends her egg-sack, shows fight at the approach of any +tramp. She does not make up her mind to die until the little ones are +gone. + +The Labyrinth Spider is better treated. After laying her eggs, so far +from becoming thin, she preserves an excellent appearance and a round +belly. Moreover, she does not lose her appetite and is always prepared +to bleed a Locust. She therefore requires a dwelling with a hunting-box +close to the eggs watched over. We know this dwelling, built in strict +accordance with artistic canons under the shelter of my cages. + +Remember the magnificent oval guard-room, running into a vestibule at +either end; the egg-chamber slung in the centre and isolated on every +side by half a score of pillars; the front-hall expanding into a wide +mouth and surmounted by a network of taut threads forming a trap. The +semi-transparency of the walls allows us to see the Spider engaged in her +household affairs. Her cloister of vaulted passages enables her to +proceed to any point of the star-shaped pouch containing the eggs. +Indefatigable in her rounds, she stops here and there; she fondly feels +the satin, listens to the secrets of the wallet. If I shake the net at +any point with a straw, she quickly runs up to enquire what is happening. +Will this vigilance frighten off the Ichneumon and other lovers of +omelettes? Perhaps so. But, though this danger be averted, others will +come when the mother is no longer there. + +Her attentive watch does not make her overlook her meals. One of the +Locusts whereof I renew the supply at intervals in the cages is caught in +the cords of the great entrance-hall. The Spider arrives hurriedly, +snatches the giddy-pate and disjoints his shanks, which she empties of +their contents, the best part of the insect. The remainder of the +carcass is afterwards drained more or less, according to her appetite at +the time. The meal is taken outside the guard-room, on the threshold, +never indoors. + +These are not capricious mouthfuls, serving to beguile the boredom of the +watch for a brief while; they are substantial repasts, which require +several sittings. Such an appetite astonishes me, after I have seen the +Crab Spider, that no less ardent watcher, refuse the Bees whom I give her +and allow herself to die of inanition. Can this other mother have so +great a need as that to eat? Yes, certainly she has; and for an +imperative reason. + +At the beginning of her work, she spent a large amount of silk, perhaps +all that her reserves contained; for the double dwelling--for herself and +for her offspring--is a huge edifice, exceedingly costly in materials; +and yet, for nearly another month, I see her adding layer upon layer both +to the wall of the large cabin and to that of the central chamber, so +much so that the texture, which at first was translucent gauze, becomes +opaque satin. The walls never seem thick enough; the Spider is always +working at them. To satisfy this lavish expenditure, she must +incessantly, by means of feeding, fill her silk-glands as and when she +empties them by spinning. Food is the means whereby she keeps the +inexhaustible factory going. + +A month passes and, about the middle of September, the little ones hatch, +but without leaving their tabernacle, where they are to spend the winter +packed in soft wadding. The mother continues to watch and spin, +lessening her activity from day to day. She recruits herself with a +Locust at longer intervals; she sometimes scorns those whom I myself +entangle in her trap. This increasing abstemiousness, a sign of +decrepitude, slackens and at last stops the work of the spinnerets. + +For four or five weeks longer, the mother never ceases her leisurely +inspection-rounds, happy at hearing the new-born Spiders swarming in the +wallet. At length, when October ends, she clutches her offspring's +nursery and dies withered. She has done all that maternal devotion can +do; the special providence of tiny animals will do the rest. When spring +comes, the youngsters will emerge from their snug habitation, disperse +all over the neighbourhood by the expedient of the floating thread and +weave their first attempts at a labyrinth on the tufts of thyme. + +Accurate in structure and neat in silk-work though they be, the nests of +the caged captives do not tell us everything; we must go back to what +happens in the fields, with their complicated conditions. Towards the +end of December, I again set out in search, aided by all my youthful +collaborators. We inspect the stunted rosemaries along the edge of a +path sheltered by a rocky, wooded slope; we lift the branches that spread +over the ground. Our zeal is rewarded with success. In a couple of +hours, I am the owner of some nests. + +Pitiful pieces of work are they, injured beyond recognition by the +assaults of the weather! It needs the eyes of faith to see in these +ruins the equivalent of the edifices built inside my cages. Fastened to +the creeping branch, the unsightly bundle lies on the sand heaped up by +the rains. Oak-leaves, roughly joined by a few threads, wrap it all +round. One of these leaves, larger than the others, roofs it in and +serves as a scaffolding for the whole of the ceiling. If we did not see +the silky remnants of the two vestibules projecting and feel a certain +resistance when separating the parts of the bundle, we might take the +thing for a casual accumulation, the work of the rain and the wind. + +Let us examine our find and look more closely into its shapelessness. +Here is the large room, the maternal cabin, which rips as the coating of +leaves is removed; here are the circular galleries of the guard-room; +here are the central chamber and its pillars, all in a fabric of +immaculate white. The dirt from the damp ground has not penetrated to +this dwelling protected by its wrapper of dead leaves. + +Now open the habitation of the offspring. What is this? To my utter +astonishment, the contents of the chamber are a kernel of earthy matters, +as though the muddy rain-water had been allowed to soak through. Put +aside that idea, says the satin wall, which itself is perfectly clean +inside. It is most certainly the mother's doing, a deliberate piece of +work, executed with minute care. The grains of sand are stuck together +with a cement of silk; and the whole resists the pressure of the fingers. + +If we continue to unshell the kernel, we find, below this mineral layer, +a last silken tunic that forms a globe around the brood. No sooner do we +tear this final covering than the frightened little ones run away and +scatter with an agility that is singular at this cold and torpid season. + +To sum up, when working in the natural state, the Labyrinth Spider builds +around the eggs, between two sheets of satin, a wall composed of a great +deal of sand and a little silk. To stop the Ichneumon's probe and the +teeth of the other ravagers, the best thing that occurred to her was this +hoarding which combines the hardness of flint with the softness of +muslin. + +This means of defence seems to be pretty frequent among Spiders. Our own +big House Spider, _Tegenaria domestica_, encloses her eggs in a globule +strengthened with a rind of silk and of crumbly wreckage from the mortar +of the walls. Other species, living in the open under stones, work in +the same way. They wrap their eggs in a mineral shell held together with +silk. The same fears have inspired the same protective methods. + +Then how comes it that, of the five mothers reared in my cages, not one +has had recourse to the clay rampart? After all, sand abounded: the pans +in which the wire-gauze covers stood were full of it. On the other hand, +under normal conditions, I have often come across nests without any +mineral casing. These incomplete nests were placed at some height from +the ground, in the thick of the brushwood; the others, on the contrary, +those supplied with a coating of sand, lay on the ground. + +The method of the work explains these differences. The concrete of our +buildings is obtained by the simultaneous manipulation of gravel and +mortar. In the same way, the Spider mixes the cement of the silk with +the grains of sand; the spinnerets never cease working, while the legs +fling under the adhesive spray the solid materials collected in the +immediate neighbourhood. The operation would be impossible if, after +cementing each grain of sand, it were necessary to stop the work of the +spinnerets and go to a distance to fetch further stony elements. Those +materials have to be right under her legs; otherwise the Spider does +without and continues her work just the same. + +In my cages, the sand is too far off. To obtain it, the Spider would +have to leave the top of the dome, where the nest is being built on its +trellis-work support; she would have to come down some nine inches. The +worker refuses to take this trouble, which, if repeated in the case of +each grain, would make the action of the spinnerets too irksome. She +also refuses to do so when, for reasons which I have not fathomed, the +site chosen is some way up in the tuft of rosemary. But, when the nest +touches the ground, the clay rampart is never missing. + +Are we to see in this fact proof of an instinct capable of modification, +either making for decadence and gradually neglecting what was the +ancestors' safeguard, or making for progress and advancing, hesitatingly, +towards perfection in the mason's art? No inference is permissible in +either direction. The Labyrinth Spider has simply taught us that +instinct possesses resources which are employed or left latent according +to the conditions of the moment. Place sand under her legs and the +spinstress will knead concrete; refuse her that sand, or put it out of +her reach, and the Spider will remain a simple silk-worker, always ready, +however, to turn mason under favourable conditions. The aggregate of +things that come within the observer's scope proves that it were mad to +expect from her any further innovations, such as would utterly change her +methods of manufacture and cause her, for instance, to abandon her cabin, +with its two entrance-halls and its star-like tabernacle, in favour of +the Banded Epeira's pear-shaped gourd. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI: THE CLOTHO SPIDER + + +She is named Durand's Clotho (_Clotho Durandi_, LATR.), in memory of him +who first called attention to this particular Spider. To enter on +eternity under the safe-conduct of a diminutive animal which saves us +from speedy oblivion under the mallows and rockets is no contemptible +advantage. Most men disappear without leaving an echo to repeat their +name; they lie buried in forgetfulness, the worst of graves. + +Others, among the naturalists, benefit by the designation given to this +or that object in life's treasure-house: it is the skiff wherein they +keep afloat for a brief while. A patch of lichen on the bark of an old +tree, a blade of grass, a puny beastie: any one of these hands down a +man's name to posterity as effectively as a new comet. For all its +abuses, this manner of honouring the departed is eminently respectable. +If we would carve an epitaph of some duration, what could we find better +than a Beetle's wing-case, a Snail's shell or a Spider's web? Granite is +worth none of them. Entrusted to the hard stone, an inscription becomes +obliterated; entrusted to a Butterfly's wing, it is indestructible. +'Durand,' therefore, by all means. + +But why drag in 'Clotho'? Is it the whim of a nomenclator, at a loss for +words to denote the ever-swelling tide of beasts that require +cataloguing? Not entirely. A mythological name came to his mind, one +which sounded well and which, moreover, was not out of place in +designating a spinstress. The Clotho of antiquity is the youngest of the +three Fates; she holds the distaff whence our destinies are spun, a +distaff wound with plenty of rough flocks, just a few shreds of silk and, +very rarely, a thin strand of gold. + +Prettily shaped and clad, as far as a Spider can be, the Clotho of the +naturalists is, above all, a highly talented spinstress; and this is the +reason why she is called after the distaff-bearing deity of the infernal +regions. It is a pity that the analogy extends no further. The +mythological Clotho, niggardly with her silk and lavish with her coarse +flocks, spins us a harsh existence; the eight-legged Clotho uses naught +but exquisite silk. She works for herself; the other works for us, who +are hardly worth the trouble. + +Would we make her acquaintance? On the rocky slopes in the oliveland, +scorched and blistered by the sun, turn over the flat stones, those of a +fair size; search, above all, the piles which the shepherds set up for a +seat whence to watch the sheep browsing amongst the lavender below. Do +not be too easily disheartened: the Clotho is rare; not every spot suits +her. If fortune smile at last upon our perseverance, we shall see, +clinging to the lower surface of the stone which we have lifted, an +edifice of a weather-beaten aspect, shaped like an over-turned cupola and +about the size of half a tangerine orange. The outside is encrusted or +hung with small shells, particles of earth and, especially, dried +insects. + +The edge of the cupola is scalloped into a dozen angular lobes, the +points of which spread and are fixed to the stone. In between these +straps is the same number of spacious inverted arches. The whole +represents the Ishmaelite's camel-hair tent, but upside down. A flat +roof, stretched between the straps, closes the top of the dwelling. + +Then where is the entrance? All the arches of the edge open upon the +roof; not one leads to the interior. The eye seeks in vain; there is +nothing to point to a passage between the inside and the outside. Yet +the owner of the house must go out from time to time, were it only in +search of food; on returning from her expedition, she must go in again. +How does she make her exits and her entrances? A straw will tell us the +secret. + +Pass it over the threshold of the various arches. Everywhere, the +searching straw encounters resistance; everywhere, it finds the place +rigorously closed. But one of the scallops, differing in no wise from +the others in appearance, if cleverly coaxed, opens at the edge into two +lips and stands slightly ajar. This is the door, which at once shuts +again of its own elasticity. Nor is this all: the Spider, when she +returns home, often bolts herself in, that is to say, she joins and +fastens the two leaves of the door with a little silk. + +The Mason Mygale is no safer in her burrow, with its lid +undistinguishable from the soil and moving on a hinge, than is the Clotho +in her tent, which is inviolable by any enemy ignorant of the device. The +Clotho, when in danger, runs quickly home; she opens the chink with a +touch of her claw, enters and disappears. The door closes of itself and +is supplied, in case of need, with a lock consisting of a few threads. No +burglar, led astray by the multiplicity of arches, one and all alike, +will ever discover how the fugitive vanished so suddenly. + +While the Clotho displays a more simple ingenuity as regards her +defensive machinery, she is incomparably ahead of the Mygale in the +matter of domestic comfort. Let us open her cabin. What luxury! We are +taught how a Sybarite of old was unable to rest, owing to the presence of +a crumpled rose-leaf in his bed. The Clotho is quite as fastidious. Her +couch is more delicate than swan's-down and whiter than the fleece of the +clouds where brood the summer storms. It is the ideal blanket. Above is +a canopy or tester of equal softness. Between the two nestles the +Spider, short-legged, clad in sombre garments, with five yellow favours +on her back. + +Rest in this exquisite retreat demands perfect stability, especially on +gusty days, when sharp draughts penetrate beneath the stone. This +condition is admirably fulfilled. Take a careful look at the habitation. +The arches that gird the roof with a balustrade and bear the weight of +the edifice are fixed to the slab by their extremities. Moreover, from +each point of contact, there issues a cluster of diverging threads that +creep along the stone and cling to it throughout their length, which +spreads afar. I have measured some fully nine inches long. These are so +many cables; they represent the ropes and pegs that hold the Arab's tent +in position. With such supports as these, so numerous and so +methodically arranged, the hammock cannot be torn from its bearings save +by the intervention of brutal methods with which the Spider need not +concern herself, so seldom do they occur. + +Another detail attracts our attention: whereas the interior of the house +is exquisitely clean, the outside is covered with dirt, bits of earth, +chips of rotten wood, little pieces of gravel. Often there are worse +things still: the exterior of the tent becomes a charnel-house. Here, +hung up or embedded, are the dry carcasses of Opatra, Asidae and other +Tenebrionidae {39} that favour underrock shelters; segments of Iuli, {40} +bleached by the sun; shells of Pupae, {41} common among the stones; and, +lastly, Snail-shells, selected from among the smallest. + +These relics are obviously, for the most part, table-leavings, broken +victuals. Unversed in the trapper's art, the Clotho courses her game and +lives upon the vagrants who wander from one stone to another. Whoso +ventures under the slab at night is strangled by the hostess; and the +dried-up carcass, instead of being flung to a distance, is hung to the +silken wall, as though the Spider wished to make a bogey-house of her +home. But this cannot be her aim. To act like the ogre who hangs his +victims from the castle battlements is the worst way to disarm suspicion +in the passers-by whom you are lying in wait to capture. + +There are other reasons which increase our doubts. The shells hung up +are most often empty; but there are also some occupied by the Snail, +alive and untouched. What can the Clotho do with a _Pupa cinerea_, a +_Pupa quadridens_ and other narrow spirals wherein the animal retreats to +an inaccessible depth? The Spider is incapable of breaking the +calcareous shell or of getting at the hermit through the opening. Then +why should she collect those prizes, whose slimy flesh is probably not to +her taste? We begin to suspect a simple question of ballast and balance. +The House Spider, or _Tegenaria domestica_, prevents her web, spun in a +corner of the wall, from losing its shape at the least breath of air, by +loading it with crumbling plaster and allowing tiny fragments of mortar +to accumulate. Are we face to face with a similar process? Let us try +experiment, which is preferable to any amount of conjecture. + +To rear the Clotho is not an arduous undertaking; we are not obliged to +take the heavy flagstone, on which the dwelling is built, away with us. A +very simple operation suffices. I loosen the fastenings with my pocket- +knife. The Spider has such stay-at-home ways that she very rarely makes +off. Besides, I use the utmost discretion in my rape of the house. And +so I carry away the building, together with its owner, in a paper bag. + +The flat stones, which are too heavy to move and which would occupy too +much room upon my table, are replaced either by deal disks, which once +formed part of cheese-boxes, or by round pieces of cardboard. I arrange +each silken hammock under one of these by itself, fastening the angular +projections, one by one, with strips of gummed paper. The whole stands +on three short pillars and gives a very fair imitation of the underrock +shelter in the form of a small dolmen. Throughout this operation, if you +are careful to avoid shocks and jolts, the Spider remains indoors. +Finally, each apparatus is placed under a wire-gauze, bell-shaped cage, +which stands in a dish filled with sand. + +We can have an answer by the next morning. If, among the cabins swung +from the ceilings of the deal or cardboard dolmens, there be one that is +all dilapidated, that was seriously knocked out of shape at the time of +removal, the Spider abandons it during the night and instals herself +elsewhere, sometimes even on the trellis-work of the wire cage. + +The new tent, the work of a few hours, attains hardly the diameter of a +two-franc piece. It is built, however, on the same principles as the old +manor-house and consists of two thin sheets laid one above the other, the +upper one flat and forming a tester, the lower curved and pocket-shaped. +The texture is extremely delicate: the least trifle would deform it, to +the detriment of the available space, which is already much reduced and +only just sufficient for the recluse. + +Well, what has the Spider done to keep the gossamer stretched, to steady +it and to make it retain its greatest capacity? Exactly what our static +treatises would advise her to do: she has ballasted her structure, she +has done her best to lower its centre of gravity. From the convex +surface of the pocket hang long chaplets of grains of sand strung +together with slender silken cords. To these sandy stalactites, which +form a bushy beard, are added a few heavy lumps hung separately and lower +down, at the end of a thread. The whole is a piece of ballast-work, an +apparatus for ensuring equilibrium and tension. + +The present edifice, hastily constructed in the space of a night, is the +frail rough sketch of what the home will afterwards become. Successive +layers will be added to it; and the partition-wall will grow into a thick +blanket capable of partly retaining, by its own weight, the requisite +curve and capacity. The Spider now abandons the stalactites of sand, +which were used to keep the original pocket stretched, and confines +herself to dumping down on her abode any more or less heavy object, +mainly corpses of insects, because she need not look for these and finds +them ready to hand after each meal. They are weights, not trophies; they +take the place of materials that must otherwise be collected from a +distance and hoisted to the top. In this way, a breastwork is obtained +that strengthens and steadies the house. Additional equilibrium is often +supplied by tiny shells and other objects hanging a long way down. + +What would happen if one robbed an old dwelling, long since completed, of +its outer covering? In case of such a disaster, would the Spider go back +to the sandy stalactites, as a ready means of restoring stability? This +is easily ascertained. In my hamlets under wire, I select a fair-sized +cabin. I strip the exterior, carefully removing any foreign body. The +silk reappears in its original whiteness. The tent looks magnificent, +but seems to me too limp. + +This is also the Spider's opinion. She sets to work, next evening, to +put things right. And how? Once more with hanging strings of sand. In +a few nights, the silk bag bristles with a long, thick beard of +stalactites, a curious piece of work, excellently adapted to maintain the +web in an unvaried curve. Even so are the cables of a suspension-bridge +steadied by the weight of the superstructure. + +Later, as the Spider goes on feeding, the remains of the victuals are +embedded in the wall, the sand is shaken and gradually drops away and the +home resumes its charnel-house appearance. This brings us to the same +conclusion as before: the Clotho knows her statics; by means of +additional weights, she is able to lower the centre of gravity and thus +to give her dwelling the proper equilibrium and capacity. + +Now what does she do in her softly-wadded home? Nothing, that I know of. +With a full stomach, her legs luxuriously stretched over the downy +carpet, she does nothing, thinks of nothing; she listens to the sound of +earth revolving on its axis. It is not sleep, still less is it waking; +it is a middle state where naught prevails save a dreamy consciousness of +well-being. We ourselves, when comfortably in bed, enjoy, just before we +fall asleep, a few moments of bliss, the prelude to cessation of thought +and its train of worries; and those moments are among the sweetest in our +lives. The Clotho seems to know similar moments and to make the most of +them. + +If I push open the door of the cabin, invariably I find the Spider lying +motionless, as though in endless meditation. It needs the teasing of a +straw to rouse her from her apathy. It needs the prick of hunger to +bring her out of doors; and, as she is extremely temperate, her +appearances outside are few and far between. During three years of +assiduous observation, in the privacy of my study, I have not once seen +her explore the domain of the wire cage by day. Not until a late hour at +night does she venture forth in quest of victuals; and it is hardly +feasible to follow her on her excursions. + +Patience once enabled me to find her, at ten o'clock in the evening, +taking the air on the flat roof of her house, where she was doubtless +waiting for the game to pass. Startled by the light of my candle, the +lover of darkness at once returned indoors, refusing to reveal any of her +secrets. Only, next day, there was one more corpse hanging from the wall +of the cabin, a proof that the chase was successfully resumed after my +departure. + +The Clotho, who is not only nocturnal, but also excessively shy, conceals +her habits from us; she shows us her works, those precious historical +documents, but hides her actions, especially the laying, which I estimate +approximately to take place in October. The sum total of the eggs is +divided into five or six small, flat, lentiform pockets, which, taken +together, occupy the greater part of the maternal home. These capsules +have each their own partition-wall of superb white satin, but they are so +closely soldered, both together and to the floor of the house, that it is +impossible to part them without tearing them, impossible, therefore, to +obtain them separately. The eggs in all amount to about a hundred. + +The mother sits upon the heap of pockets with the same devotion as a +brooding hen. Maternity has not withered her. Although decreased in +bulk, she retains an excellent look of health; her round belly and her +well-stretched skin tell us from the first that her part is not yet +wholly played. + +The hatching takes place early. November has not arrived before the +pockets contain the young: wee things clad in black, with five yellow +specks, exactly like their elders. The new-born do not leave their +respective nurseries. Packed close together, they spend the whole of the +wintry season there, while the mother, squatting on the pile of cells, +watches over the general safety, without knowing her family other than by +the gentle trepidations felt through the partitions of the tiny chambers. +The Labyrinth Spider has shown us how she maintains a permanent sitting +for two months in her guard-room, to defend, in case of need, the brood +which she will never see. The Clotho does the same during eight months, +thus earning the right to set eyes for a little while on her family +trotting around her in the main cabin and to assist at the final exodus, +the great journey undertaken at the end of a thread. + +When the summer heat arrives, in June, the young ones, probably aided by +their mother, pierce the walls of their cells, leave the maternal tent, +of which they know the secret outlet well, take the air on the threshold +for a few hours and then fly away, carried to some distance by a +funicular aeroplane, the first product of their spinning-mill. + +The elder Clotho remains behind, careless of this emigration which leaves +her alone. She is far from being faded indeed, she looks younger than +ever. Her fresh colour, her robust appearance suggest great length of +life, capable of producing a second family. On this subject I have but +one document, a pretty far-reaching one, however. There were a few +mothers whose actions I had the patience to watch, despite the wearisome +minutiae of the rearing and the slowness of the result. These abandoned +their dwellings after the departure of their young; and each went to +weave a new one for herself on the wire net-work of the cage. + +They were rough-and-ready summaries, the work of a night. Two hangings, +one above the other, the upper one flat, the lower concave and ballasted +with stalactites of grains of sand, formed the new home, which, +strengthened daily by fresh layers, promised to become similar to the old +one. Why does the Spider desert her former mansion, which is in no way +dilapidated--far from it--and still exceedingly serviceable, as far as +one can judge? Unless I am mistaken, I think I have an inkling of the +reason. + +The old cabin, comfortably wadded though it be, possesses serious +disadvantages: it is littered with the ruins of the children's nurseries. +These ruins are so close-welded to the rest of the home that my forceps +cannot extract them without difficulty; and to remove them would be an +exhausting business for the Clotho and possibly beyond her strength. It +is a case of the resistance of Gordian knots, which not even the very +spinstress who fastened them is capable of untying. The encumbering +litter, therefore, will remain. + +If the Spider were to stay alone, the reduction of space, when all is +said, would hardly matter to her: she wants so little room, merely enough +to move in! Besides, when you have spent seven or eight months in the +cramping presence of those bedchambers, what can be the reason of a +sudden need for greater space? I see but one: the Spider requires a +roomy habitation, not for herself--she is satisfied with the smallest +den--but for a second family. Where is she to place the pockets of eggs, +if the ruins of the previous laying remain in the way? A new brood +requires a new home. That, no doubt, is why, feeling that her ovaries +are not yet dried up, the Spider shifts her quarters and founds a new +establishment. + +The facts observed are confined to this change of dwelling. I regret +that other interests and the difficulties attendant upon a long +upbringing did not allow me to pursue the question and definitely to +settle the matter of the repeated layings and the longevity of the +Clotho, as I did in that of the Lycosa. + +Before taking leave of this Spider, let us glance at a curious problem +which has already been set by the Lycosa's offspring. When carried for +seven months on the mother's back, they keep in training as agile +gymnasts without taking any nourishment. It is a familiar exercise for +them, after a fall, which frequently occurs, to scramble up a leg of +their mount and nimbly to resume their place in the saddle. They expend +energy without receiving any material sustenance. + +The sons of the Clotho, the Labyrinth Spider and many others confront us +with the same riddle: they move, yet do not eat. At any period of the +nursery stage, even in the heart of winter, on the bleak days of January, +I tear the pockets of the one and the tabernacle of the other, expecting +to find the swarm of youngsters lying in a state of complete inertia, +numbed by the cold and by lack of food. Well, the result is quite +different. The instant their cells are broken open, the anchorites run +out and flee in every direction as nimbly as at the best moments of their +normal liberty. It is marvellous to see them scampering about. No brood +of Partridges, stumbled upon by a Dog, scatters more promptly. + +Chicks, while still no more than tiny balls of yellow fluff, hasten up at +the mother's call and scurry towards the plate of rice. Habit has made +us indifferent to the spectacle of those pretty little animal machines, +which work so nimbly and with such precision; we pay no attention, so +simple does it all appear to us. Science examines and looks at things +differently. She says to herself: + +'Nothing is made with nothing. The chick feeds itself; it consumes or +rather it assimilates and turns the food into heat, which is converted +into energy.' + +Were any one to tell us of a chick which, for seven or eight months on +end, kept itself in condition for running, always fit, always brisk, +without taking the least beakful of nourishment from the day when it left +the egg, we could find no words strong enough to express our incredulity. +Now this paradox of activity maintained without the stay of food is +realized by the Clotho Spider and others. + +I believe I have made it sufficiently clear that the young Lycosae take +no food as long as they remain with their mother. Strictly speaking, +doubt is just admissible, for observation is needs dumb as to what may +happen earlier or later within the mysteries of the burrow. It seems +possible that the repleted mother may there disgorge to her family a mite +of the contents of her crop. To this suggestion the Clotho undertakes to +make reply. + +Like the Lycosa, she lives with her family; but the Clotho is separated +from them by the walls of the cells in which the little ones are +hermetically enclosed. In this condition, the transmission of solid +nourishment becomes impossible. Should any one entertain a theory of +nutritive humours cast up by the mother and filtering through the +partitions at which the prisoners might come and drink, the Labyrinth +Spider would at once dispel the idea. She dies a few weeks after her +young are hatched; and the children, still locked in their satin +bed-chamber for the best part of the year, are none the less active. + +Can it be that they derive sustenance from the silken wrapper? Do they +eat their house? The supposition is not absurd, for we have seen the +Epeirae, before beginning a new web, swallow the ruins of the old. But +the explanation cannot be accepted, as we learn from the Lycosa, whose +family boasts no silky screen. In short, it is certain that the young, +of whatever species, take absolutely no nourishment. + +Lastly, we wonder whether they may possess within themselves reserves +that come from the egg, fatty or other matters the gradual combustion of +which would be transformed into mechanical force. If the expenditure of +energy were of but short duration, a few hours or a few days, we could +gladly welcome this idea of a motor viaticum, the attribute of every +creature born into the world. The chick possesses it in a high degree: +it is steady on its legs, it moves for a little while with the sole aid +of the food wherewith the egg furnishes it; but soon, if the stomach is +not kept supplied, the centre of energy becomes extinct and the bird +dies. How would the chick fare if it were expected, for seven or eight +months without stopping, to stand on its feet, to run about, to flee in +the face of danger? Where would it stow the necessary reserves for such +an amount of work? + +The little Spider, in her turn, is a minute particle of no size at all. +Where could she store enough fuel to keep up mobility during so long a +period? The imagination shrinks in dismay before the thought of an atom +endowed with inexhaustible motive oils. + +We must needs, therefore, appeal to the immaterial, in particular to heat- +rays coming from the outside and converted into movement by the organism. +This is nutrition of energy reduced to its simplest expression: the +motive heat, instead of being extracted from the food, is utilized +direct, as supplied by the sun, which is the seat of all life. Inert +matter has disconcerting secrets, as witness radium; living matter has +secrets of its own, which are more wonderful still. Nothing tells us +that science will not one day turn the suspicion suggested by the Spider +into an established truth and a fundamental theory of physiology. + + + + +APPENDIX: THE GEOMETRY OF THE EPEIRA'S WEB + + +I find myself confronted with a subject which is not only highly +interesting, but somewhat difficult: not that the subject is obscure; but +it presupposes in the reader a certain knowledge of geometry: a strong +meat too often neglected. I am not addressing geometricians, who are +generally indifferent to questions of instinct, nor entomological +collectors, who, as such, take no interest in mathematical theorems; I +write for any one with sufficient intelligence to enjoy the lessons which +the insect teaches. + +What am I to do? To suppress this chapter were to leave out the most +remarkable instance of Spider industry; to treat it as it should be +treated, that is to say, with the whole armoury of scientific formulae, +would be out of place in these modest pages. Let us take a middle +course, avoiding both abstruse truths and complete ignorance. + +Let us direct our attention to the nets of the Epeirae, preferably to +those of the Silky Epeira and the Banded Epeira, so plentiful in the +autumn, in my part of the country, and so remarkable for their bulk. We +shall first observe that the radii are equally spaced; the angles formed +by each consecutive pair are of perceptibly equal value; and this in +spite of their number, which in the case of the Silky Epeira exceeds two +score. We know by what strange means the Spider attains her ends and +divides the area wherein the web is to be warped into a large number of +equal sectors, a number which is almost invariable in the work of each +species. An operation without method, governed, one might imagine, by an +irresponsible whim, results in a beautiful rose-window worthy of our +compasses. + +We shall also notice that, in each sector, the various chords, the +elements of the spiral windings, are parallel to one another and +gradually draw closer together as they near the centre. With the two +radiating lines that frame them they form obtuse angles on one side and +acute angles on the other; and these angles remain constant in the same +sector, because the chords are parallel. + +There is more than this: these same angles, the obtuse as well as the +acute, do not alter in value, from one sector to another, at any rate so +far as the conscientious eye can judge. Taken as a whole, therefore, the +rope-latticed edifice consists of a series of cross-bars intersecting the +several radiating lines obliquely at angles of equal value. + +By this characteristic we recognize the 'logarithmic spiral.' +Geometricians give this name to the curve which intersects obliquely, at +angles of unvarying value, all the straight lines or 'radii vectores' +radiating from a centre called the 'Pole.' The Epeira's construction, +therefore, is a series of chords joining the intersections of a +logarithmic spiral with a series of radii. It would become merged in +this spiral if the number of radii were infinite, for this would reduce +the length of the rectilinear elements indefinitely and change this +polygonal line into a curve. + +To suggest an explanation why this spiral has so greatly exercised the +meditations of science, let us confine ourselves for the present to a few +statements of which the reader will find the proof in any treatise on +higher geometry. + +The logarithmic spiral describes an endless number of circuits around its +pole, to which it constantly draws nearer without ever being able to +reach it. This central point is indefinitely inaccessible at each +approaching turn. It is obvious that this property is beyond our sensory +scope. Even with the help of the best philosophical instruments, our +sight could not follow its interminable windings and would soon abandon +the attempt to divide the invisible. It is a volute to which the brain +conceives no limits. The trained mind, alone, more discerning than our +retina, sees clearly that which defies the perceptive faculties of the +eye. + +The Epeira complies to the best of her ability with this law of the +endless volute. The spiral revolutions come closer together as they +approach the pole. At a given distance, they stop abruptly; but, at this +point, the auxiliary spiral, which is not destroyed in the central +region, takes up the thread; and we see it, not without some surprise, +draw nearer to the pole in ever-narrowing and scarcely perceptible +circles. There is not, of course, absolute mathematical accuracy, but a +very close approximation to that accuracy. The Epeira winds nearer and +nearer round her pole, so far as her equipment, which, like our own, is +defective, will allow her. One would believe her to be thoroughly versed +in the laws of the spiral. + +I will continue to set forth, without explanations, some of the +properties of this curious curve. Picture a flexible thread wound round +a logarithmic spiral. If we then unwind it, keeping it taut the while, +its free extremity will describe a spiral similar at all points to the +original. The curve will merely have changed places. + +Jacques Bernouilli, {42} to whom geometry owes this magnificent theorem, +had engraved on his tomb, as one of his proudest titles to fame, the +generating spiral and its double, begotten of the unwinding of the +thread. An inscription proclaimed, '_Eadem mutata resurgo_: I rise again +like unto myself.' Geometry would find it difficult to better this +splendid flight of fancy towards the great problem of the hereafter. + +There is another geometrical epitaph no less famous. Cicero, when +quaestor in Sicily, searching for the tomb of Archimedes amid the thorns +and brambles that cover us with oblivion, recognized it, among the ruins, +by the geometrical figure engraved upon the stone: the cylinder +circumscribing the sphere. Archimedes, in fact, was the first to know +the approximate relation of circumference to diameter; from it he deduced +the perimeter and surface of the circle, as well as the surface and +volume of the sphere. He showed that the surface and volume of the last- +named equal two-thirds of the surface and volume of the circumscribing +cylinder. Disdaining all pompous inscription, the learned Syracusan +honoured himself with his theorem as his sole epitaph. The geometrical +figure proclaimed the individual's name as plainly as would any +alphabetical characters. + +To have done with this part of our subject, here is another property of +the logarithmic spiral. Roll the curve along an indefinite straight +line. Its pole will become displaced while still keeping on one straight +line. The endless scroll leads to rectilinear progression; the +perpetually varied begets uniformity. + +Now is this logarithmic spiral, with its curious properties, merely a +conception of the geometers, combining number and extent, at will, so as +to imagine a tenebrous abyss wherein to practise their analytical methods +afterwards? Is it a mere dream in the night of the intricate, an +abstract riddle flung out for our understanding to browse upon? + +No, it is a reality in the service of life, a method of construction +frequently employed in animal architecture. The Mollusc, in particular, +never rolls the winding ramp of the shell without reference to the +scientific curve. The first-born of the species knew it and put it into +practice; it was as perfect in the dawn of creation as it can be to-day. + +Let us study, in this connection, the Ammonites, those venerable relics +of what was once the highest expression of living things, at the time +when the solid land was taking shape from the oceanic ooze. Cut and +polished length-wise, the fossil shows a magnificent logarithmic spiral, +the general pattern of the dwelling which was a pearl palace, with +numerous chambers traversed by a siphuncular corridor. + +To this day, the last representative of the Cephalopoda with partitioned +shells, the Nautilus of the Southern Seas, remains faithful to the +ancient design; it has not improved upon its distant predecessors. It +has altered the position of the siphuncle, has placed it in the centre +instead of leaving it on the back, but it still whirls its spiral +logarithmically as did the Ammonites in the earliest ages of the world's +existence. + +And let us not run away with the idea that these princes of the Mollusc +tribe have a monopoly of the scientific curve. In the stagnant waters of +our grassy ditches, the flat shells, the humble Planorbes, sometimes no +bigger than a duckweed, vie with the Ammonite and the Nautilus in matters +of higher geometry. At least one of them, _Planorbis vortex_, for +example, is a marvel of logarithmic whorls. + +In the long-shaped shells, the structure becomes more complex, though +remaining subject to the same fundamental laws. I have before my eyes +some species of the genus Terebra, from New Caledonia. They are +extremely tapering cones, attaining almost nine inches in length. Their +surface is smooth and quite plain, without any of the usual ornaments, +such as furrows, knots or strings of pearls. The spiral edifice is +superb, graced with its own simplicity alone. I count a score of whorls +which gradually decrease until they vanish in the delicate point. They +are edged with a fine groove. + +I take a pencil and draw a rough generating line to this cone; and, +relying merely on the evidence of my eyes, which are more or less +practised in geometric measurements, I find that the spiral groove +intersects this generating line at an angle of unvarying value. + +The consequence of this result is easily deduced. If projected on a +plane perpendicular to the axis of the shell, the generating lines of the +cone would become radii; and the groove which winds upwards from the base +to the apex would be converted into a plane curve which, meeting those +radii at an unvarying angle, would be neither more nor less than a +logarithmic spiral. Conversely, the groove of the shell may be +considered as the projection of this spiral on a conic surface. + +Better still. Let us imagine a plane perpendicular to the aids of the +shell and passing through its summit. Let us imagine, moreover, a thread +wound along the spiral groove. Let us unroll the thread, holding it taut +as we do so. Its extremity will not leave the plane and will describe a +logarithmic spiral within it. It is, in a more complicated degree, a +variant of Bernouilli's '_Eadem mutata resurgo_:' the logarithmic conic +curve becomes a logarithmic plane curve. + +A similar geometry is found in the other shells with elongated cones, +Turritellae, Spindle-shells, Cerithia, as well as in the shells with +flattened cones, Trochidae, Turbines. The spherical shells, those +whirled into a volute, are no exception to this rule. All, down to the +common Snail-shell, are constructed according to logarithmic laws. The +famous spiral of the geometers is the general plan followed by the +Mollusc rolling its stone sheath. + +Where do these glairy creatures pick up this science? We are told that +the Mollusc derives from the Worm. One day, the Worm, rendered frisky by +the sun, emancipated itself, brandished its tail and twisted it into a +corkscrew for sheer glee. There and then the plan of the future spiral +shell was discovered. + +This is what is taught quite seriously, in these days, as the very last +word in scientific progress. It remains to be seen up to what point the +explanation is acceptable. The Spider, for her part, will have none of +it. Unrelated to the appendix-lacking, corkscrew-twirling Worm, she is +nevertheless familiar with the logarithmic spiral. From the celebrated +curve she obtains merely a sort of framework; but, elementary though this +framework be, it clearly marks the ideal edifice. The Epeira works on +the same principles as the Mollusc of the convoluted shell. + +The Mollusc has years wherein to construct its spiral and it uses the +utmost finish in the whirling process. The Epeira, to spread her net, +has but an hour's sitting at the most, wherefore the speed at which she +works compels her to rest content with a simpler production. She +shortens the task by confining herself to a skeleton of the curve which +the other describes to perfection. + +The Epeira, therefore, is versed in the geometric secrets of the Ammonite +and the _Nautilus pompilus_; she uses, in a simpler form, the logarithmic +line dear to the Snail. What guides her? There is no appeal here to a +wriggle of some kind, as in the case of the Worm that ambitiously aspires +to become a Mollusc. The animal must needs carry within itself a virtual +diagram of its spiral. Accident, however fruitful in surprises we may +presume it to be, can never have taught it the higher geometry wherein +our own intelligence at once goes astray, without a strict preliminary +training. + +Are we to recognize a mere effect of organic structure in the Epeira's +art? We readily think of the legs, which, endowed with a very varying +power of extension, might serve as compasses. More or less bent, more or +less outstretched, they would mechanically determine the angle whereat +the spiral shall intersect the radius; they would maintain the parallel +of the chords in each sector. + +Certain objections arise to affirm that, in this instance, the tool is +not the sole regulator of the work. Were the arrangement of the thread +determined by the length of the legs, we should find the spiral volutes +separated more widely from one another in proportion to the greater +length of implement in the spinstress. We see this in the Banded Epeira +and the Silky Epeira. The first has longer limbs and spaces her cross- +threads more liberally than does the second, whose legs are shorter. + +But we must not rely too much on this rule, say others. The Angular +Epeira, the Paletinted Epeira and the Cross Spider, all three more or +less short-limbed, rival the Banded Epeira in the spacing of their lime- +snares. The last two even dispose them with greater intervening +distances. + +We recognize in another respect that the organization of the animal does +not imply an immutable type of work. Before beginning the sticky spiral, +the Epeirae first spin an auxiliary intended to strengthen the stays. +This spiral, formed of plain, non-glutinous thread, starts from the +centre and winds in rapidly-widening circles to the circumference. It is +merely a temporary construction, whereof naught but the central part +survives when the Spider has set its limy meshes. The second spiral, the +essential part of the snare, proceeds, on the contrary, in serried coils +from the circumference to the centre and is composed entirely of viscous +cross-threads. + +Here we have, following one after the other merely by a sudden alteration +of the machine, two volutes of an entirely different order as regards +direction, the number of whorls and intersection. Both of them are +logarithmic spirals. I see no mechanism of the legs, be they long or +short, that can account for this alteration. + +Can it then be a premeditated design on the part of the Epeira? Can +there be calculation, measurement of angles, gauging of the parallel by +means of the eye or otherwise? I am inclined to think that there is none +of all this, or at least nothing but an innate propensity, whose effects +the animal is no more able to control than the flower is able to control +the arrangement of its verticils. The Epeira practises higher geometry +without knowing or caring. The thing works of itself and takes its +impetus from an instinct imposed upon creation from the start. + +The stone thrown by the hand returns to earth describing a certain curve; +the dead leaf torn and wafted away by a breath of wind makes its journey +from the tree to the ground with a similar curve. On neither the one +side nor the other is there any action by the moving body to regulate the +fall; nevertheless, the descent takes place according to a scientific +trajectory, the 'parabola,' of which the section of a cone by a plane +furnished the prototype to the geometer's speculations. A figure, which +was at first but a tentative glimpse, becomes a reality by the fall of a +pebble out of the vertical. + +The same speculations take up the parabola once more, imagine it rolling +on an indefinite straight line and ask what course does the focus of this +curve follow. The answer comes: The focus of the parabola describes a +'catenary,' a line very simple in shape, but endowed with an algebraic +symbol that has to resort to a kind of cabalistic number at variance with +any sort of numeration, so much so that the unit refuses to express it, +however much we subdivide the unit. It is called the number _e_. Its +value is represented by the following series carried out ad infinitum: + + e = 1 + 1/1 + 1/(1*2) + 1/(1*2*3) + 1/(1*2*3*4) + 1/(1*2*3*4*5) + etc + +If the reader had the patience to work out the few initial terms of this +series, which has no limit, because the series of natural numerals itself +has none, he would find: + + e=2.7182818... + +With this weird number are we now stationed within the strictly defined +realm of the imagination? Not at all: the catenary appears actually +every time that weight and flexibility act in concert. The name is given +to the curve formed by a chain suspended by two of its points which are +not placed on a vertical line. It is the shape taken by a flexible cord +when held at each end and relaxed; it is the line that governs the shape +of a sail bellying in the wind; it is the curve of the nanny-goat's milk- +bag when she returns from filling her trailing udder. And all this +answers to the number e. + +What a quantity of abstruse science for a bit of string! Let us not be +surprised. A pellet of shot swinging at the end of a thread, a drop of +dew trickling down a straw, a splash of water rippling under the kisses +of the air, a mere trifle, after all, requires a titanic scaffolding when +we wish to examine it with the eye of calculation. We need the club of +Hercules to crush a fly. + +Our methods of mathematical investigation are certainly ingenious; we +cannot too much admire the mighty brains that have invented them; but how +slow and laborious they appear when compared with the smallest +actualities! Will it never be given to us to probe reality in a simpler +fashion? Will our intelligence be able one day to dispense with the +heavy arsenal of formulae? Why not? + +Here we have the abracadabric number _e_ reappearing, inscribed on a +Spider's thread. Let us examine, on a misty morning, the meshwork that +has been constructed during the night. Owing to their hygrometrical +nature, the sticky threads are laden with tiny drops, and, bending under +the burden, have become so many catenaries, so many chaplets of limpid +gems, graceful chaplets arranged in exquisite order and following the +curve of a swing. If the sun pierce the mist, the whole lights up with +iridescent fires and becomes a resplendent cluster of diamonds. The +number _e_ is in its glory. + +Geometry, that is to say, the science of harmony in space, presides over +everything. We find it in the arrangement of the scales of a fir-cone, +as in the arrangement of an Epeira's limy web; we find it in the spiral +of a Snail-shell, in the chaplet of a Spider's thread, as in the orbit of +a planet; it is everywhere, as perfect in the world of atoms as in the +world of immensities. + +And this universal geometry tells us of an Universal Geometrician, whose +divine compass has measured all things. I prefer that, as an explanation +of the logarithmic curve of the Ammonite and the Epeira, to the Worm +screwing up the tip of its tail. It may not perhaps be in accordance +with latter-day teaching, but it takes a loftier flight. + + + + +FOOTNOTES + + +{1} A small or moderate-sized spider found among foliage.--Translator's +Note. + +{2} Leon Dufour (1780-1865) was an army surgeon who served with +distinction in several campaigns and subsequently practised as a doctor +in the Landes. He attained great eminence as a naturalist.--Translator's +Note. + +{3} The Tarantula is a Lycosa, or Wolf-spider. Fabre's Tarantula, the +Black-bellied Tarantula, is identical with the Narbonne Lycosa, under +which name the description is continued in Chapters iii. to vi., all of +which were written at a considerably later date than the present +chapter.--Translator's Note. + +{4} Giorgio Baglivi (1669-1707), professor of anatomy and medicine at +Rome.--Translator's Note. + +{5} 'When our husbandmen wish to catch them, they approach their hiding- +places, and play on a thin grass pipe, making a sound not unlike the +humming of bees. Hearing which, the Tarantula rushes out fiercely that +she may catch the flies or other insects of this kind, whose buzzing she +thinks it to be; but she herself is caught by her rustic trapper.' + +{6} Provencal for the bit of waste ground on which the author studies +his insects in the natural state.--Translator's note. + +{7} 'Thanks to the Bumble-bee.' + +{8} Like the Dung-beetles.--Translator's Note. + +{9} Like the Solitary Wasps.--Translator's Note. + +{10} Such as the Hairy Ammophila, the Cerceris and the Languedocian +Sphex, Digger-wasps described in other of the author's +essays.--Translator's Note. + +{11} The _desnucador_, the Argentine slaughterman whose methods of +slaying cattle are detailed in the author's essay entitled, The Theory of +Instinct.--Translator's Note. + +{12} A family of Grasshoppers.--Translator's Note. + +{13} A genus of Beetles.--Translator's Note. + +{14} A species of Digger-wasp.--Translator's Note. + +{15} The Cicada is the _Cigale_, an insect akin to the Grasshopper and +found more particularly in the South of France.--Translator's Note. + +{16} The generic title of the work from which these essays are taken is +Entomological Memories, or, Studies relating to the Instinct and Habits +of Insects.--Translator's Note. + +{17} A species of Grasshopper.--Translator's Note. + +{18} An insect akin to the Locusts and Crickets, which, when at rest, +adopts an attitude resembling that of prayer. When attacking, it assumes +what is known as 'the spectral attitude.' Its forelegs form a sort of +saw-like or barbed harpoons. Cf. Social Life in the Insect World, by J. +H. Fabre, translated by Bernard Miall: chaps. v. to vii.-- Translator's +Note. + +{19} .39 inch.-- Translator's Note. + +{20} These experiments are described in the author's essay on the Mason +Bees entitled Fragments on Insect Psychology.--Translator's Note. + +{21} A species of Wasp.--Translator's Note. + +{22} In Chap. VIII. of the present volume.--Translator's Note. + +{23} 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. + +{24} Chapter III. of the present volume.--Translator's Note. + +{25} A species of Dung-beetle. Cf. The Life and Love of the Insect, by +J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. +v.--Translator's Note. + +{26} A species of Beetle.--Translator's Note. + +{27} Cf. Insect Life, by J. H. Fabre, translated by the author of +Mademoiselle Mori: chaps. i. and ii.; The Life and Love of the Insect, by +J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps. i. to +iv.--Translator's Note. + +{28} Chapter II.--Translator's Note. + +{29} .39 inch.--Translator's Note. + +{30} The Processionaries are Moth-caterpillars that feed on various +leaves and march in file, laying a silken trail as they go.--Translator's +Note. + +{31} The weekly half-holiday in French schools.--Translator's Note. + +{32} Cf. Social Life in the Insect World, by J. H. Fabre, translated by +Bernard Miall: chap. xiv.--Translator's Note. + +{33} Cf. Insect Life, by J. H. Fabre, translated by the author of +Mademoiselle Mori: chap. v.--Translator's Note. + +{34} 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. Cf. The Life and Love of the Insect, by +J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. +xi.--Translator's Note. + +{35} Cf. Social Life in the Insect World, by J. H. Fabre, translated by +Bernard Miall. chap. xiii., in which the name is given, by a printer's +error, as _Philanthus aviporus_.--Translator's Note. + +{36} Or Bird Spiders, known also as the American Tarantula.--Translator's +Note. + +{37} .059 inch.--Translator's Note. + +{38} The Ichneumon-flies are very small insects which carry long +ovipositors, wherewith they lay their eggs in the eggs of other insects +and also, more especially, in caterpillars. Their parasitic larvae live +and develop at the expense of the egg or grub attacked, which degenerates +in consequence.--Translator's Note. + +{39} One of the largest families of Beetles, darkish in colour and +shunning the light.--Translator's Note. + +{40} The Iulus is one of the family of Myriapods, which includes +Centipedes, etc.--Translator's Note. + +{41} A species of Land-snail.--Translator's Note. + +{42} Jacques Bernouilli (1654-1705), professor of mathematics at the +University of Basel from 1687 to the year of his death. He improved the +differential calculus, solved the isoperimetrical problem and discovered +the properties of the logarithmic spiral.--Translator's Note. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF THE SPIDER *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. 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