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diff --git a/old/lfspd10.txt b/old/lfspd10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..94f3305 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/lfspd10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7797 @@ +Project Gutenberg Etext The Life of the Spider by J. Henri Fabre + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +The Life of the Spider + +by J. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +This etext was prepared by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk +from the 1912 Hodder and Stoughton edition. + + + + + +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 +tarentella, 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, +today 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 wasteland 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 Grass-hopper, 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 rattle-snake 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 +crossbars, 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 +widespread 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. {39} 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 frame-work 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 day-time, 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 sauce-pan 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 air- +ship; 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 fore-legs +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 brush-wood 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 frame-work, 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 sign-post, 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 sign-post +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 tomorrow, 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 frame- +work 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 +frame-work. 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 +fore-legs 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 crossbars. + +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 re-appears 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 foot- +hold 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 brush-wood, 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 Project Gutenberg Etext The Life of the Spider by J. Henri Fabre + |