diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/66743-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/66743-0.txt | 9519 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 9519 deletions
diff --git a/old/66743-0.txt b/old/66743-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c8d1bdc..0000000 --- a/old/66743-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9519 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Sacred Beetle and others, by J. Henri -Fabre - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Sacred Beetle and others - -Author: J. Henri Fabre - -Translator: Alexander Teixeira de Mattos - -Release Date: November 15, 2021 [eBook #66743] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project Gutenberg (This file - was produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SACRED BEETLE AND OTHERS *** - - - - THE WORKS OF J. H. FABRE - - THE - SACRED BEETLE - AND OTHERS - - - BY - J. HENRI FABRE - - Translated by - ALEXANDER TEIXEIRA DE MATTOS, F.Z.S. - - WITH A PREFACE BY THE AUTHOR - - - - HODDER AND STOUGHTON - LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO - - - - - - - - -AUTHOR’S PREFACE - - -In the building of the nest, the family safeguard, we see the highest -manifestation of the faculties of instinct. That clever architect, the -bird, teaches us as much; and the insect, with its still more diverse -talents, repeats the lesson, telling us that maternity is the supreme -inspirer of instinct. Entrusted with the preservation of the species, -which is of more importance than the preservation of individuals, -maternity awakens in the drowsiest intelligence marvellous gleams of -foresight; it is the thrice sacred hearth where are kindled those -mysterious psychic fires which will suddenly burst into flame and -dazzle us with their semblance of infallible reason. The more maternity -asserts itself, the higher does instinct ascend. - -In this respect no creatures are more deserving of our attention than -the Hymenoptera, upon whom the cares of maternity devolve in their -fulness. All these favourites of instinct prepare board and lodging for -their offspring. They become master-craftsmen in a host of trades for -the sake of a family which their faceted eyes will never behold, but -which is nevertheless no stranger to the mother’s powers of foresight. -One turns cotton-spinner and produces cotton-wool bottles; another sets -up as a basket-maker and weaves hampers out of bits of leaves; a third -becomes a mason and builds rooms of cement and domes of road-metal; a -fourth opens pottery-works, where clay is kneaded into shapely vases -and rounded pots; yet another goes in for mining and digs mysterious -underground chambers in the warm, moist earth. A thousand trades -similar to ours and often even unknown to our industrial system enter -into the preparation of the abode. Next come the provisions for the -expected nurselings: piles of honey, loaves of pollen, stores of game, -preserved by a cunning paralysing-process. In such works as these, -having the future of the family for their sole object, the highest -manifestations of instinct are displayed under the stimulus of -maternity. - -So far as the rest of the insect race is concerned, the mother’s cares -are generally most summary. In the majority of cases, all that is done -is to lay the eggs in a favourable spot, where the larva, at its own -risk and peril, can find bed and breakfast. With such rustic ideas upon -the upbringing of the offspring, talents are superfluous. Lycurgus -banished the arts from his republic on the ground that they were -enervating. In like manner the higher inspirations of instinct have no -home among insects reared in the Spartan fashion. The mother scorns the -sweet task of the nurse; and the psychic prerogatives, which are the -best of all, diminish and disappear, so true is it that, with animals -as with ourselves, the family is a source of perfection. - -While the Hymenopteron, so extremely thoughtful of her progeny, fills -us with wonder, the others, which abandon theirs to the accidents of -good luck or bad, must seem to us, by comparison, of little interest. -These others form almost the whole of the entomological race; at least, -among the fauna of our country-sides, there is, to my knowledge, only -one other example of insects preparing board and lodging for their -family, as do the gatherers of honey and the buriers of well-filled -game-bags. - -And, strange to say, these insects vying in maternal solicitude with -the flower-despoiling tribe of Bees are none other than the -Dung-beetles, the dealers in ordure, the scavengers of the -cattle-fouled meadows. We must pass from the scented blossoms of our -flower-beds to the Mule-dung of our high-roads to find a second -instance of devoted mothers and lofty instincts. Nature abounds in -these antitheses. What are our ugliness or beauty, our cleanliness or -dirt to her? Out of filth, she creates the flower; from a little -manure, she extracts the thrice-blessed grain of wheat. - -Notwithstanding their disgusting occupation, the Dung-beetles are of a -very respectable standing. Their size, which is generally imposing; -their severe and immaculately glossy attire; their portly bodies, -thickset and compact; the quaint ornamentation of brow or thorax: all -combined make them cut an excellent figure in the collector’s boxes, -especially when to our home species, oftenest of an ebon black, we add -a few tropical varieties, a-glitter with gleams of gold and flashes of -burnished copper. - -They are the sedulous attendants of our herds, for which reason several -of them are faintly redolent of benzoic acid, the aromatic of the -Sheep-folds. Their pastoral habits have impressed the nomenclators, too -often, alas, careless of euphony, who this time have changed their tune -and headed their descriptions with such names as Melibœus, Tityrus, -Amyntas, Corydon, Mopsus and Alexis. We find here the whole series of -bucolic appellations made famous by the poets of antiquity. Virgil’s -eclogues have lent their vocabulary for the Dung-beetles’ -glorification. We should have to go back to the Butterflies with their -dainty graces to find an equally poetic nomenclature. In their case the -epic names of the Iliad ring out, borrowed from the camps of Greek and -Trojan and perhaps too magnificently bellicose for those peaceable -winged flowers whose habits in no wise recall the martial deeds of an -Ajax or an Achilles. Much better-imagined is the bucolic title given to -the Dung-beetles: it tells us the insect’s chief characteristic, its -predilection for pasture-lands. - -The dung-manipulators have as head of their line the Sacred Beetle or -Scarab, whose strange behaviour had already attracted the attention of -the fellah in the valley of the Nile, some thousand years before the -Christian era. As he watered his patch of onions in the spring, the -Egyptian peasant would see from time to time a fat black insect pass -close by, hurriedly trundling a ball of Camel-dung backwards. He would -watch the queer rolling thing in amazement, even as the Provençal -peasant watches it to this day. - -No one fails to be surprised when he first finds himself in the -presence of the Scarab, who, with his head down and his long hind-legs -in the air, pushes with might and main his huge pill, the source of so -many awkward tumbles. Undoubtedly the simple fellah, on beholding this -spectacle, wondered what that ball could be, what object the black -creature could have in rolling it along with such vigour. The peasant -of to-day asks himself the same question. - -In the days of the Rameses and Thothmes, superstition had something to -say in the matter; men saw in the rolling sphere an image of the world -performing its daily revolution; and the Scarab received divine -honours: in memory of his ancient glory, he continues the Sacred Beetle -of the modern naturalists. - -It is six or seven thousand years since the curious pill-maker first -got himself talked about: are his habits thoroughly familiar to us yet? -Do we know the exact use for which he intends his ball, do we know how -he rears his family? Not at all. The most authoritative works -perpetuate the grossest errors where he is concerned. - -Ancient Egypt used to say that the Scarab rolls his ball from east to -west, the direction in which the world turns. He next buries it -underground for twenty-eight days, the period of a lunary revolution. -This four weeks’ incubation quickens the pill-maker’s progeny. On the -twenty-ninth day, which the insect knows to be that of the conjunction -of the sun and moon and of the birth of the world, he goes back to his -buried ball; he digs it up, opens it and throws it into the Nile. That -completes the cycle. Immersion in the sacred waters causes a Scarab to -emerge from the ball. - -Let us not laugh overmuch at these Pharaonic stories: they contain a -modicum of truth mingled with the fantastic theories of astrology. -Moreover, a good deal of the laughter would recoil upon our own -science, for the fundamental error of regarding as the Scarab’s cradle -the ball which we see rolling across the fields still lingers in our -text-books. All the authors who write about the Sacred Beetle repeat -it; the tradition has come down to us intact from the far-off days when -the Pyramids were built. - -It is a good thing from time to time to wield the hatchet in the -overgrown thicket of tradition; it is well to shake off the yoke of -accepted ideas. It is possible that, cleansed of its obscuring dross, -truth may at last shine forth resplendent, far greater and more -wonderful than the things which we were taught. I have sometimes -harboured these rash doubts; and I have no reason to regret it, notably -in the case of the Scarab. To-day I know the sacred pill-roller’s story -thoroughly; and the reader shall see how much more marvellous it is -than the tales handed down to us by the old Egyptians. - -The early chapters of my investigations into the nature of instinct [1] -have already proved, in the most categorical fashion, that the round -pellets rolled hither and thither along the ground by the insect do not -and indeed cannot contain germs. They are not habitations for the egg -and the grub; they are provisions which the Sacred Beetle hurriedly -removes from the madding crowd in order to bury them and consume them -at leisure in a subterranean dining-room. - -Nearly forty years have elapsed since I used eagerly to collect the -materials to support my iconoclastic assertions on the Plateau des -Angles, near Avignon; and nothing has happened to invalidate my -statements; far from it: everything has corroborated them. The -incontestable proof came at last when I obtained the Scarab’s nest, a -genuine nest this time, gathered in such quantities as I wished and in -some cases even shaped before my eyes. - -I have described my former vain attempts to find the larva’s abode; I -have described the pitiful failure of my efforts at rearing under -cover; and perhaps the reader commiserated my woes when he saw me on -the outskirts of the town stealthily and ingloriously gathering in a -paper bag the donation dropped by a passing Mule for my charges. -Certainly, as things were, my task was no easy one. My boarders, who -were great consumers, or more correctly speaking great wasters, used to -beguile the tedium of captivity by indulging in art for art’s sake in -the glad sunshine. Pill followed on pill, all beautifully rounded, to -be abandoned unused after a few exercises in rolling. The heap of -provisions, which I had so painfully acquired in the friendly shadow of -the gloaming, was squandered with disheartening rapidity; and there -came a time when the daily bread failed. Moreover, the stringy manna -falling from the Horse and the Mule is hardly suited to the mother’s -work, as I learned afterwards. Something more homogeneous, more plastic -is needed; and this only the Sheep’s somewhat laxer bowels are able to -supply. - -In short, though my earlier studies taught me all about the Scarab’s -public manners, for several reasons they told me nothing of his private -habits. The nest-building problem remained as obscure as ever. Its -solution demands a good deal more than the straitened resources of a -town and the scientific equipment of a laboratory. It requires -prolonged residence in the country; it requires the proximity of flocks -and herds in the bright sunshine. Given these conditions, success is -assured, provided that one have zeal and perseverance; and these -conditions I find to perfection in my quiet village. - -Provisions, my great difficulty in the old days, are now to be had for -the asking. Close to my house, Mules pass along the high-road, on their -way to the fields and back again; morning and evening, flocks of Sheep -go by, making for the pasture or the fold; not five yards from my door, -my neighbour’s Goat is tethered: I can hear her bleating as she nibbles -away at her ring of grass. Moreover, should food be scarce in my -immediate vicinity, there are always youthful purveyors who, lured by -visions of lollipops, are ready to scour the country to collect -victuals for my Beetles. - -They arrive, not one but a dozen, bringing their contributions in the -queerest of receptacles. In this novel procession of gift-bearers, any -concave thing that chances to be handy is employed: the crown of an old -hat, a broken tile, a bit of stove-pipe, the bottom of a spinning-top, -a fragment of a basket, an old shoe hardened into a sort of boat, at a -pinch the collector’s own cap. - -‘It’s prime stuff this time,’ their shining eyes seem to proclaim. -‘It’s something extra special.’ - -The goods are duly approved and paid for on the spot, as agreed. To -close the transaction in a fitting manner, I take the victuallers to -the cages and show them the Beetle rolling his pill. They gaze in -wonder at the funny creature that looks as if it were playing with its -ball; they laugh at its tumbles and scream with delight at its clumsy -struggles when it comes to grief and lies on its back kicking. A -charming sight, especially when the lollipops bulging in the -youngsters’ cheeks are just beginning to melt deliciously. Thus the -zeal of my little collaborators is kept alive. There is no fear of my -boarders starving: their larder will be lavishly supplied. - -Who are these boarders? Well, first and foremost the Sacred Beetle, the -chief subject of my present investigations. Sérignan’s long screen of -hills might well mark his extreme northern boundary. Here ends the -Mediterranean flora, whose last ligneous representatives are the -arboraceous heather and the arbutus-tree; and here, in all probability, -the mighty pill-maker, a passionate lover of the sun, terminates his -arctic explorations. He abounds on the hot slopes facing the south and -in the narrow belt of plain sheltered by that powerful reflector. -According to all appearances, the elegant Gallic Bolboceras and the -stalwart Spanish Copris likewise stop at this line; for both are as -sensitive to cold as he. To these curious Dung-beetles, whose private -habits are so little known, let us add the Gymnopleuri, the Minotaur, -the Geotrupes, the Onthophagi. They are all welcomed in my cages, for -all, I am convinced beforehand, have surprises in store for us in the -details of their underground business. - -My cages have a capacity of about a cubic yard. Except for the front, -which is of wire gauze, the whole is made of wood. This keeps out any -excessive rain, the effect of which would be to turn the layer of earth -in my open-air appliances into mud. Over-great moisture would be fatal -to the prisoners, who cannot, in their straitened artificial demesne, -act as they do when at liberty and prolong their digging indefinitely -until they come upon a medium suitable to their operations. They want -soil which is porous and not too dry, though in no danger of ever -becoming muddy. The earth in the cages therefore is of a sandy -character and, after being sifted, is slightly moistened and flattened -down just enough to prevent any landslips in the future galleries. Its -depth is barely ten or eleven inches, which is insufficient in certain -cases; but those of the inmates who have a fancy for deep galleries, -like the Geotrupes for instance, are well able to make up horizontally -for what is denied them perpendicularly. - -The trellised front has a south aspect and allows the sun’s rays to -penetrate right into the dwelling. The opposite side, which faces -north, consists of two shutters one above the other. They are movable -and are kept in place by hooks or bolts. The top one opens for food to -be distributed and for the cleaning of the cage; it is the kitchen-door -for everyday use. It is also the entrance-gate for any new captives -whom I succeed in bagging. The bottom shutter, which keeps the layer of -earth in position, is opened only on great occasions, when we want to -surprise the insect in its home life and to ascertain the condition of -the progress underground. Then the bolts are drawn; the board, which is -on hinges, falls; and a vertical section of the soil is laid bare, -giving us an excellent opportunity of studying the Dung-beetles’ work. -Our examination is made with the point of a knife and has to be -conducted with the utmost care. In this way we get with precision and -without difficulty industrial details which could not always be -obtained by laborious digging in the open fields. - -Nevertheless, outdoor investigations are indispensable and often yield -far more important results than anything derived from home rearing; -for, though some Dung-beetles are indifferent to captivity and work in -the cage with their customary vigour, others, who are of a more nervous -temperament or perhaps more cautious, distrust my boarded palaces and -are extremely reluctant to surrender their secrets. It is only once in -a way that they fall victims to my assiduous wooing. Besides, if my -menagerie is to be run properly, I must know something of what is -happening outside, were it only to find out the right time of year for -my various projects. It is absolutely essential therefore that our -study of the insect in captivity should be amply supplemented by -observations of its life and habits in the wild state. - -Here an assistant would be very useful to me, some one with leisure, -with a seeing eye and a simple heart, whose curiosity would be as -unaffected as my own. This helper I have: such an one indeed as I have -never had before or since. He is a young shepherd, a friend of the -family. He has read a little and has a keen desire for knowledge, so he -is not frightened by the terms Scarabæus, Geotrupes, Copris or -Onthophagus when I name the insects which he has dug up the day before -and kept for me in a box. - -At early dawn in the dog-days, when my insects are busy with their -nest-building, you may see him in the meadows. When night falls and the -heat begins to lessen, he is still there; and all day long, till far -into the night, he passes to and fro among the pill-rollers, who are -attracted from every quarter by the reek of the victuals strewn by his -Sheep. Well-posted in the various points of my entomological problems, -he watches events and keeps me informed. He awaits his opportunity; he -inspects the grass. With his knife he lays bare the subterranean cell -which is betrayed by its little mound of earth; he scrapes, digs and -finds; and it all constitutes a glorious change from his vague pastoral -musings. - -Ah, what splendid mornings we spend together, in the cool of the day, -seeking the nest of the Scarab or the Copris! Old Sultan is there, -seated on some knoll or other and keeping an autocratic eye upon the -fleecy rabble. Nothing, not even the crust which a friend holds out to -him, distracts his attention from his exalted functions. Certainly he -is not much to look at, with his tangled black coat, soiled with the -thousands of seeds which have caught in it. He is not a handsome Dog, -but what a lot of sense there is in his shaggy head, what a talent for -knowing exactly what is permitted and what forbidden, for perceiving -the absence of some heedless one forgotten behind a dip in the ground! -Upon my word, one would think that he knew the number of Sheep confided -to his care, his Sheep, though never a bone of them comes his way! He -has counted them from the top of his knoll. One is missing. Sultan -rushes off. Here he comes, bringing the straggler back to the flock. -Clever Dog! I admire your skill in arithmetic, though I fail to -understand how your crude brain ever acquired it. Yes, old fellow, we -can rely on you; the two of us, your master and I, can hunt the -Dung-beetle at our ease and disappear in the copsewood; not one of your -charges will go astray, not one will nibble at the neighbouring vines. - -It was in this way that I worked, at early morn, before the sun grew -too hot, in partnership with the young shepherd and our common friend -Sultan, though at times I was alone, myself sole pastor of the seventy -bleating Sheep. And so the materials were gathered for this history of -the Sacred Beetle and his rivals. - - - - - - - - -TRANSLATOR’S NOTE - - -This is the first of the four volumes containing Fabre’s essays on -Beetles, the order of insects to which, if we judge by his output, he -devoted the longest study. It will be followed in due course by The -Glow-worm and Other Beetles, The Life of the Weevil, and More Beetles. -These three, however, will be issued, not in immediate succession, but -turn by turn with books upon other insects; for the Souvenirs -entomologiques, from which all or nearly all this material is taken, -are still far from being exhausted. - -Of the eighteen chapters that make up the present volume, some have -appeared, either complete or in a more or less abbreviated form, in -various interesting illustrated miscellanies published independently of -the Collected Edition. Part of the Author’s Preface and the chapters -entitled ‘The Sacred Beetle’ and ‘The Sacred Beetle in Captivity’ will -be found in Insect Life, prepared for Messrs. Macmillan and Co. by the -author of Mademoiselle Mori. Similarly, the next three chapters on the -Sacred Beetle, the two treating of the Spanish Copris, the chapter on -the Onthophagi and Oniticelli, and the first two chapters on the -Geotrupes form part of The Life and Love of the Insect, translated by -myself for Messrs. Adam and Charles Black and published in America by -the Macmillan Co. Lastly, The Sisyphus: the Instinct of Paternity -occurs in Mr. Fisher Unwin’s Social Life in the Insect World, -translated by Mr. Bernard Miall and published in America by the Century -Co. These chapters are all included in the Collected Edition by -arrangement with the publishers named. - -It remains for me (I grieve to say, for the last time) to acknowledge -my debt to the late Miss Frances Rodwell, my very capable assistant, -who did so much to assist me in preparing this and most of the previous -volumes. Her too early death, in the winter of this year, was an -occasion of sorrow, and a great loss to many besides myself. - - -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos. - -Chelsea, 26th April 1919. - - - - - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - AUTHOR’S PREFACE v - - TRANSLATOR’S NOTE xvii - - CHAPTER I - THE SACRED BEETLE 1 - - CHAPTER II - THE SACRED BEETLE IN CAPTIVITY 29 - - CHAPTER III - THE SACRED BEETLE: THE BALL 42 - - CHAPTER IV - THE SACRED BEETLE: THE PEAR 56 - - CHAPTER V - THE SACRED BEETLE: THE MODELLING 73 - - CHAPTER VI - THE SACRED BEETLE: THE LARVA 83 - - CHAPTER VII - THE SACRED BEETLE: THE NYMPH; THE RELEASE 96 - - CHAPTER VIII - THE BROAD-NECKED SCARAB; THE GYMNOPLEURI 112 - - CHAPTER IX - THE SPANISH COPRIS: THE LAYING OF THE EGGS 127 - - CHAPTER X - THE SPANISH COPRIS: THE HABITS OF THE MOTHER 149 - - CHAPTER XI - ONTHOPHAGI AND ONITICELLI 172 - - CHAPTER XII - THE GEOTRUPES: THE PUBLIC HEALTH 189 - - CHAPTER XIII - THE GEOTRUPES: NEST-BUILDING 203 - - CHAPTER XIV - THE GEOTRUPES: THE LARVA 221 - - CHAPTER XV - THE SISYPHUS: THE INSTINCT OF PATERNITY 235 - - CHAPTER XVI - THE LUNARY COPRIS; THE BISON ONITIS 248 - - CHAPTER XVII - THE BULL ONTHOPHAGUS: THE CELL 263 - - CHAPTER XVIII - THE BULL ONTHOPHAGUS: THE LARVA; THE NYMPH 280 - - INDEX 293 - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE SACRED BEETLE - - -It happened like this. There were five or six of us: myself, the -oldest, officially their master but even more their friend and comrade; -they, lads with warm hearts and joyous imaginations, overflowing with -that youthful vitality which makes us so enthusiastic and so eager for -knowledge. We started off one morning down a path fringed with dwarf -elder and hawthorn, whose clustering blossoms were already a paradise -for the Rose-chafer ecstatically drinking in their bitter perfumes. We -talked as we went. We were going to see whether the Sacred Beetle had -yet made his appearance on the sandy plateau of Les Angles, [2] whether -he was rolling that pellet of dung in which ancient Egypt beheld an -image of the world; we were going to find out whether the stream at the -foot of the hill was not hiding under its mantle of duckweed young -Newts with gills like tiny branches of coral; whether that pretty -little fish of our rivulets, the Stickleback, had donned his wedding -scarf of purple and blue; whether the newly arrived Swallow was -skimming the meadows on pointed wing, chasing the Crane-flies, who -scatter their eggs as they dance through the air; if the Eyed Lizard -was sunning his blue-speckled body on the threshold of a burrow dug in -the sandstone; if the Laughing Gull, travelling from the sea in the -wake of the legions of fish that ascend the Rhone to milt in its -waters, was hovering in his hundreds over the river, ever and anon -uttering his cry so like a maniac’s laughter; if ... but that will do. -To be brief, let us say that, like good simple folk who find pleasure -in all living things, we were off to spend a morning at the most -wonderful of festivals, life’s springtime awakening. - -Our expectations were fulfilled. The Stickleback was dressed in his -best: his scales would have paled the lustre of silver; his throat was -flashing with the brightest vermilion. On the approach of the great -black Horse-leech, the spines on his back and sides started up, as -though worked by a spring. In the face of this resolute altitude, the -bandit turns tail and slips ignominiously down among the water-weeds. -The placid mollusc tribe—Planorbes, Limnæi and other Water-snails—were -sucking in the air on the surface of the water. The Hydrophilus and her -hideous larva, those pirates of the ponds, darted amongst them, -wringing a neck or two as they passed. The stupid crowd did not seem -even to notice it. But let us leave the plain and its waters and -clamber up the bluff to the plateau above us. Up there, Sheep are -grazing and Horses being exercised for the approaching races, while all -are distributing manna to the enraptured Dung-beetles. - -Here are the scavengers at work, the Beetles whose proud mission it is -to purge the soil of its filth. One would never weary of admiring the -variety of tools wherewith they are supplied, whether for shifting, -cutting up and shaping the stercoral matter or for excavating deep -burrows in which they will seclude themselves with their booty. This -equipment resembles a technical museum where every digging-implement is -represented. It includes things that seem copied from those -appertaining to human industry and others of so original a type that -they might well serve us as models for new inventions. - -The Spanish Copris carries on his forehead a powerful pointed horn, -curved backwards, like the long blade of a mattock. In addition to a -similar horn, the Lunary Copris has two strong spikes, curved like a -ploughshare, springing from the thorax and also, between the two, a -jagged protuberance which does duty as a broad rake. Bubas bubalis and -B. bison, both exclusively Mediterranean species, have their forehead -armed with two stout diverging horns, between which juts a horizontal -dagger, supplied by the corselet. Minotaurus typhœus carries on the -front of his thorax three ploughshares, which stick straight out, -parallel to one another, the side ones longer than the middle one. The -Bull Onthophagus has as his tool two long curved pieces that remind us -of the horns of a Bull; the Cow Onthophagus, on the other hand, has a -two-pronged fork standing erect on his flat head. Even the poorest -have, either on their head or on their corselet, hard knobs that make -implements which the patient insect can turn to good use, -notwithstanding their bluntness. All are supplied with a shovel, that -is to say, they have a broad, flat head with a sharp edge; all use a -rake, that is to say, they collect materials with their toothed -fore-legs. - -As some sort of compensation for their unsavoury task, several of them -give out a powerful scent of musk, while their bellies shine like -polished metal. The Mimic Geotrupes has gleams of copper and gold -beneath; the Stercoraceous Geotrupes has a belly of amethystine violet. -But generally their colouring is black. The Dung-beetles in gorgeous -raiment, those veritable living gems, belong to the tropics. Upper -Egypt can show us under its Camel-dung a Beetle rivalling the emerald’s -brilliant green; Guiana, Brazil and Senegambia boast of Copres that are -a metallic red, rich as copper and ruby-bright. The Dung-beetles of our -climes cannot flaunt such jewellery, but they are no less remarkable -for their habits. - -What excitement over a single patch of Cow-dung! Never did adventurers -hurrying from the four corners of the earth display such eagerness in -working a Californian claim. Before the sun becomes too hot, they are -there in their hundreds, large and small, of every sort, shape and -size, hastening to carve themselves a slice of the common cake. There -are some that labour in the open air and scrape the surface; there are -others that dig themselves galleries in the thick of the heap, in -search of choice veins; some work the lower stratum and bury their -spoil without delay in the ground just below; others again, the -smallest, keep on one side and crumble a morsel that has slipped their -way during the mighty excavations of their more powerful fellows. Some, -newcomers and doubtless the hungriest, consume their meal on the spot; -but the greater number dream of accumulating stocks that will allow -them to spend long days in affluence, down in some safe retreat. A -nice, fresh patch of dung is not found just when you want it, in the -barren plains overgrown with thyme; a windfall of this sort is as manna -from the sky; only fortune’s favourites receive so fair a portion. -Wherefore the riches of to-day are prudently hoarded for the morrow. -The stercoraceous scent has carried the glad tidings half a mile -around; and all have hastened up to get a store of provisions. A few -laggards are still arriving, on the wing or on foot. - -Who is this that comes trotting towards the heap, fearing lest he reach -it too late? His long legs move with awkward jerks, as though driven by -some mechanism within his belly; his little red antennæ unfurl their -fan, a sign of anxious greed. He is coming, he has come, not without -sending a few banqueters sprawling. It is the Sacred Beetle, clad all -in black, the biggest and most famous of our Dung-beetles. Behold him -at table, beside his fellow-guests, each of whom is giving the last -touches to his ball with the flat of his broad fore-legs or else -enriching it with yet one more layer before retiring to enjoy the fruit -of his labours in peace. Let us follow the construction of the famous -ball in all its phases. - -The clypeus, or shield, that is the edge of the broad, flat head, is -notched with six angular teeth arranged in a semicircle. This -constitutes the tool for digging and cutting up, the rake that lifts -and casts aside the unnutritious vegetable fibres, goes for something -better, scrapes and collects it. A choice is thus made, for these -connoisseurs differentiate between one thing and another, making a -rough selection when the Beetle is occupied with his own provender, but -an extremely scrupulous one when it is a matter of constructing the -maternal ball, which has a central cavity in which the egg will hatch. -Then every scrap of fibre is conscientiously rejected and only the -stercoral quintessence is gathered as the material for building the -inner layer of the cell. The young larva, on issuing from the egg, thus -finds in the very walls of its lodging a food of special delicacy which -strengthens its digestion and enables it afterwards to attack the -coarse outer layers. - -Where his own needs are concerned, the Beetle is less particular and -contents himself with a very general sorting. The notched shield then -does its scooping and digging, its casting aside and scraping together -more or less at random. The fore-legs play a mighty part in the work. -They are flat, bow-shaped, supplied with powerful nervures and armed on -the outside with five strong teeth. If a vigorous effort be needed to -remove an obstacle or to force a way through the thickest part of the -heap, the Dung-beetle makes use of his elbows, that is to say, he -flings his toothed legs to right and left and clears a semicircular -space with an energetic sweep. Room once made, a different kind of work -is found for these same limbs: they collect armfuls of the stuff raked -together by the shield and push it under the insect’s belly, between -the four hinder legs. These are formed for the turner’s trade. They are -long and slender, especially the last pair, slightly bowed and finished -with a very sharp claw. They are at once recognised as compasses, -capable of embracing a globular body in their curved branches and of -verifying and correcting its shape. Their function is, in fact, to -fashion the ball. - -Armful by armful, the material is heaped up under the belly, between -the four legs, which, by a slight pressure, impart their own curve to -it and give it a preliminary outline. Then, every now and again, the -rough-hewn pill is set spinning between the four branches of the double -pair of spherical compasses; it turns under the Dung-beetle’s belly -until it is rolled into a perfect ball. Should the surface layer lack -plasticity and threaten to peel off, should some too-stringy part -refuse to yield to the action of the lathe, the fore-legs touch up the -faulty places; their broad paddles pat the ball to give consistency to -the new layer and to work the recalcitrant bits into the mass. - -Under a hot sun, when time presses, one stands amazed at the turner’s -feverish activity. And so the work proceeds apace: what a moment ago -was a tiny pellet is now a ball the size of a walnut; soon it will be -the size of an apple. I have seen some gluttons manufacture a ball the -size of a man’s fist. This indeed means food in the larder for days to -come! - -The Beetle has his provisions. The next thing is to withdraw from the -fray and transport the victuals to a suitable place. Here the Scarab’s -most striking characteristics begin to show themselves. Straightway he -begins his journey; he clasps his sphere with his two long hind-legs, -whose terminal claws, planted in the mass, serve as pivots; he obtains -a purchase with the middle pair of legs; and, with his toothed -fore-arms, pressing in turn upon the ground, to do duty as levers, he -proceeds with his load, he himself moving backwards, body bent, head -down and hind-quarters in the air. The rear legs, the principal factor -in the mechanism, are in continual movement backwards and forwards, -shifting the claws to change the axis of rotation, to keep the load -balanced and to push it along by alternate thrusts to right and left. -In this way the ball finds itself touching the ground by turns with -every point of its surface, a process which perfects its shape and -gives an even consistency to its outer layer by means of pressure -uniformly distributed. - -And now to work with a will! The thing moves, it begins to roll; we -shall get there, though not without difficulty. Here is a first awkward -place: the Beetle is wending his way athwart a slope and the heavy mass -tends to follow the incline; the insect, however, for reasons best -known to itself, prefers to cut across this natural road, a bold -project which may be brought to naught by a false step or by a grain of -sand that disturbs the balance of the load. The false step is made: -down goes the ball to the bottom of the valley; and the insect, toppled -over by the shock, is lying on its back, kicking. It is soon up again -and hastens to harness itself once more to its load. The machine works -better than ever. But look out, you dunderhead! Follow the dip of the -valley: that will save labour and mishaps; the road is good and level; -your ball will roll quite easily. Not a bit of it! The Beetle prepares -once again to mount the slope that has already been his undoing. -Perhaps it suits him to return to the heights. Against that I have -nothing to say: the Scarab’s judgment is better than mine as to the -advisability of keeping to lofty regions; he can see farther than I can -in these matters. But at least take this path, which will lead you up -by a gentle incline! Certainly not! Let him find himself near some very -steep slope, impossible to climb, and that is the very path which the -obstinate fellow will choose. Now begins a Sisyphean labour. The ball, -that enormous burden, is painfully hoisted, step by step, with infinite -precautions, to a certain height, always backwards. We wonder by what -miracle of statics a mass of this size can be kept upon the slope. Oh! -An ill-advised movement frustrates all this toil: the ball rolls down, -dragging the Beetle with it. Once more the heights are scaled and -another fall is the sequel. The attempt is renewed, with greater skill -this time at the difficult points; a wretched grass-root, the cause of -the previous falls, is carefully got over. We are almost there; but -steady now, steady! It is a dangerous ascent and the merest trifle may -yet ruin everything. For see, a leg slips on a smooth bit of gravel! -Down come ball and Beetle, all mixed up together. And the insect begins -over again, with indefatigable obstinacy. Ten times, twenty times, he -will attempt the hopeless ascent, until his persistence vanquishes all -obstacles, or until, wisely recognizing the futility of his efforts, he -adopts the level road. - -The Scarab does not always push his precious ball alone: sometimes he -takes a partner; or, to be accurate, the partner takes him. This is the -way in which things usually happen: once his ball is ready, a -Dung-beetle issues from the crowd and leaves the workyard, pushing his -prize backwards. A neighbour, a newcomer, whose own task is hardly -begun, abruptly drops his work and runs to the moving ball, to lend a -hand to the lucky owner, who seems to accept the proffered aid kindly. -Henceforth the two work in partnership. Each does his best to push the -pellet to a place of safety. Was a compact really concluded in the -workyard, a tacit agreement to share the cake between them? While one -was kneading and moulding the ball, was the other tapping rich veins -whence to extract choice materials and add them to the common store? I -have never observed any such collaboration; I have always seen each -Dung-beetle occupied solely with his own affairs in the works. The -last-comer, therefore, has no acquired rights. - -Can it then be a partnership between the two sexes, a couple intending -to set up house? I thought so for a time. The two Beetles, one before, -one behind, pushing the heavy ball with equal fervour, reminded me of a -song which the hurdy-gurdies used to grind out some years ago: - - - Pour monter notre ménage, hélas! comment ferons-nous? - Toi devant et moi derrière, nous pousserons le tonneau. [3] - - -The evidence of the scalpel compelled me to abandon my belief in this -domestic idyll. There is no outward difference between the two sexes in -the Scarabæi. I therefore dissected the pair of Dung-beetles engaged in -trundling one and the same ball; and they very often proved to be of -the same sex. - -Neither community of family nor community of labour! Then what is the -motive for this apparent partnership? It is purely and simply an -attempt at robbery. The zealous fellow-worker, on the false plea of -lending a helping hand, cherishes a plan to purloin the ball at the -first opportunity. To make one’s own ball at the heap means hard work -and patience; to steal one ready-made, or at least to foist one’s self -as a guest, is a much easier matter. Should the owner’s vigilance -slacken, you can run away with his property; should you be too closely -watched, you can sit down to table uninvited, pleading services -rendered. It is ‘Heads I win, tails you lose’ in these tactics, so that -pillage is practised as one of the most lucrative of trades. Some go to -work craftily, in the way which I have described: they come to the aid -of a comrade who has not the least need of them and hide the most -barefaced greed under the cloak of charitable assistance. Others, -bolder perhaps, more confident in their strength, go straight to their -goal and commit robbery with violence. - -Scenes are constantly happening such as this: a Scarab goes off, -peacefully, by himself, rolling his ball, his lawful property, acquired -by conscientious work. Another comes flying up, I know not whence, -drops down heavily, folds his dingy wings under their cases and, with -the back of his toothed fore-arms, knocks over the owner, who is -powerless to ward off the attack in his awkward position, harnessed as -he is to his property. While the victim struggles to his feet, the -other perches himself atop the ball, the best position from which to -repel an assailant. With his fore-arms crossed over his breast, ready -to hit back, he awaits events. The dispossessed one moves round the -ball, seeking a favourable spot at which to make the assault; the -usurper spins round on the roof of the citadel, facing his opponent all -the time. If the latter raise himself in order to scale the wall, the -robber gives him a blow that stretches him on his back. Safe at the top -of his fortress, the besieged Beetle could foil his adversary’s -attempts indefinitely if the latter did not change his tactics. He -turns sapper so as to reduce the citadel with the garrison. The ball, -shaken from below, totters and begins rolling, carrying with it the -thieving Dung-beetle, who makes violent efforts to maintain his -position on the top. This he succeeds in doing—though not -invariably—thanks to hurried gymnastic feats which land him higher on -the ball and make up for the ground which he loses by its rotation. -Should a false movement bring him to earth, the chances become equal -and the struggle turns into a wrestling-match. Robber and robbed -grapple with each other, breast to breast. Their legs lock and unlock, -their joints intertwine, their horny armour clashes and grates with the -rasping sound of metal under the file. Then the one who succeeds in -throwing his opponent and releasing himself scrambles to the top of the -ball and there takes up his position. The siege is renewed, now by the -robber, now by the robbed, as the chances of the hand-to-hand conflict -may decree. The former, a brawny desperado, no novice at the game, -often has the best of the fight. Then, after two or three unsuccessful -attempts, the defeated Beetle wearies and returns philosophically to -the heap, to make himself a new pellet. As for the other, with all fear -of a surprise attack at an end, he harnesses himself to the conquered -ball and pushes it whither he pleases. I have sometimes seen a third -thief appear upon the scene and rob the robber. Nor can I honestly say -that I was sorry. - -I ask myself in vain what Proudhon [4] introduced into Scarabæan -morality the daring paradox that ‘property means plunder,’ or what -diplomatist taught the Dung-beetle the savage maxim that ‘might is -right.’ I have no data that would enable me to trace the origin of -these spoliations, which have become a custom, of this abuse of -strength to capture a lump of ordure. All that I can say is that theft -is a general practice among the Scarabs. These dung-rollers rob one -another with a calm effrontery which, to my knowledge, is without a -parallel. I leave it to future observers to elucidate this curious -problem in animal psychology and I go back to the two partners rolling -their ball in concert. - -But first let me dispel a current error in the text-books. I find in M. -Émile Blanchard’s [5] magnificent work, Métamorphoses, mœurs et -instincts des insectes, the following passage: - - - ‘Sometimes our insect is stopped by an insurmountable obstacle; the - ball has fallen into a hole. At such moments the Ateuchus [6] gives - evidence of a really astonishing grasp of the situation as well as - of a system of ready communication between individuals of the same - species which is even more remarkable. Recognizing the - impossibility of coaxing the ball out of the hole, the Ateuchus - seems to abandon it and flies away. If you are sufficiently endowed - with that great and noble virtue called patience, stay by the - forsaken ball: after a while, the Ateuchus will return to the same - spot and will not return alone; he will be accompanied by two, - three, four or five companions, who will all alight at the place - indicated and will combine their efforts to raise the load. The - Ateuchus has been to fetch reinforcements; and this explains why it - is such a common sight, in the dry fields, to see several Ateuchi - joining in the removal of a single ball.’ - - -Lastly, I read in Illiger’s [7] Entomological Magazine: - - - ‘A Gymnopleurus pilularius, [8] while constructing the ball of dung - destined to contain her eggs, let it roll into a hole, whence she - strove for a long time to extract it unaided. Finding that she was - wasting her time in vain efforts, she ran to a neighbouring heap of - manure to fetch three individuals of her own species, who, uniting - their strength to hers, succeeded in withdrawing the ball from the - cavity into which it had fallen and then returned to their manure - to continue their work.’ - - -I crave a thousand pardons of my illustrious master, M. Blanchard, but -things certainly do not happen as he says. To begin with, the two -accounts are so much alike that they must have had a common origin. -Illiger, on the strength of observations not continuous enough to -deserve blind confidence, put forward the case of his Gymnopleurus; and -the same story was repeated about the Scarabæi because it is, in fact, -quite usual to see two of these insects occupied together either in -rolling a ball or in getting it out of a troublesome place. But this -cooperation in no way proves that the Dung-beetle who found himself in -difficulties went to requisition the aid of his mates. I have had no -small measure of the patience recommended by M. Blanchard; I have lived -laborious days in close intimacy, if I may say so, with the Sacred -Beetle; I have done everything that I could think of in order to enter -as thoroughly as possible into his ways and habits and to study them -from life; and I have never seen anything that suggested either nearly -or remotely the idea of companions summoned to lend assistance. As I -shall presently relate, I have subjected the Dung-beetle to far more -serious trials than that of getting his ball into a hole; I have -confronted him with much graver difficulties than that of mounting a -slope, which is sheer sport to the obstinate Sisyphus, who seems to -delight in the rough gymnastics involved in climbing steep places, as -if the ball thereby grew firmer and accordingly increased in value; I -have created artificial situations in which the insect had the -uttermost need of help; and never did my eyes detect any evidence of -friendly services rendered by comrade to comrade. I have seen Beetles -robbed and Beetles robbing and nothing more. If a number of them were -gathered around the same pill, it meant that a battle was taking place. -My humble opinion, therefore, is that the incident of a number of -Scarabæi collected around the same ball with thieving intentions has -given rise to these stories of comrades called in to lend a hand. -Imperfect observations are responsible for this transformation of the -bold highwayman into a helpful companion who has left his work to do -another a friendly turn. - -It is no light matter to attribute to an insect a really astonishing -grasp of a situation, combined with an even more amazing power of -communication between individuals of the same species. Such an -admission involves more than one imagines. That is why I insist on my -point. What! Are we to believe that a Beetle in distress will conceive -the idea of going in quest of help? We are to imagine him flying off -and scouring the country to find fellow-workers on some patch of dung; -when he has found them, we are to suppose that he addresses them, in a -sort of pantomime, by gestures with his antennæ more particularly, in -some such words as these: - -‘I say, you fellows, my load’s upset in a hole over there; come and -help me get it out. I’ll do as much for you one day!’ - -And we are to believe that his comrades understand! And, more -incredible still, that they straightway leave their work, the pellet -which they have just begun, the beloved pill exposed to the cupidity of -others and certain to be filched in their absence, and go to the help -of the suppliant! I am profoundly incredulous of such unselfishness; -and my incredulity is confirmed by what I have witnessed for years and -years, not in glass-cases but in the very places where the Scarab -works. Apart from its maternal solicitude, in which respect it is -nearly always admirable, the insect cares for nothing but itself, -unless it lives in societies, like the Hive-bees, the Ants and the -rest. - -But let me end this digression, which is excused by the importance of -the subject. I was saying that a Sacred Beetle, in possession of a ball -which he is pushing backwards, is often joined by another, who comes -hurrying up to lend an assistance which is anything but disinterested, -his intention being to rob his companion if the opportunity present -itself. Let us call the two workers partners, though that is not the -proper name for them, seeing that the one forces himself upon the -other, who probably accepts outside help only for fear of a worse evil. -The meeting, by the way, is absolutely peaceful. The owner of the ball -does not cease work for an instant on the arrival of the newcomer; and -his uninvited assistant seems animated by the best intentions and sets -to work on the spot. The way in which the two partners harness -themselves differs. The proprietor occupies the chief position, the -place of honour: he pushes at the rear, with his hind-legs in the air -and his head down. His subordinate is in front, in the reverse posture, -head up, toothed arms on the ball, long hind-legs on the ground. -Between the two, the ball rolls along, one driving it before him, the -other pulling it towards him. - -The efforts of the couple are not always very harmonious, the more so -as the assistant has his back to the road to be traversed, while the -owner’s view is impeded by the load. The result is that they are -constantly having accidents, absurd tumbles, taken cheerfully and in -good part: each picks himself up quickly and resumes the same position -as before. On level ground this system of traction does not correspond -with the dynamic force expended, through lack of precision in the -combined movements: the Scarab at the back would do as well and better -if left to himself. And so the helper, having given a proof of his -good-will at the risk of throwing the machinery out of gear, now -decides to keep still, without letting go of the precious ball, of -course. He already looks upon that as his: a ball touched is a ball -gained. He won’t be so silly as not to stick to it: the other might -give him the slip! - -So he gathers his legs flat under his belly, encrusting himself, so to -speak, on the ball and becoming one with it. Henceforth, the whole -concern—the ball and the Beetle clinging to its surface—is rolled along -by the efforts of the lawful owner. The intruder sits tight and lies -low, heedless whether the load pass over his body, whether he be at the -top, bottom or side of the rolling ball. A queer sort of assistant, who -gets a free ride so as to make sure of his share of the victuals! - -But a steep ascent heaves in sight and gives him a fine part to play. -He takes the lead now, holding up the heavy mass with his toothed arms, -while his mate seeks a purchase in order to hoist the load a little -higher. In this way, by a combination of well-directed efforts, the -Beetle above gripping, the one below pushing, I have seen a couple -mount hills which would have been too much for a single carter, however -persevering. But in times of difficulty not all show the same zeal: -there are some who, on awkward slopes where their assistance is most -needed, seem blissfully unaware of the trouble. While the unhappy -Sisyphus exhausts himself in attempts to get over the bad part, the -other quietly leaves him to it: imbedded in the ball, he rolls down -with it if it comes to grief and is hoisted up with it when they start -afresh. - -I have often tried the following experiment on the two partners in -order to judge their inventive faculties when placed in a serious -predicament. Suppose them to be on level ground, number two seated -motionless on the ball, number one busy pushing. Without disturbing the -latter, I nail the ball to the ground with a long, strong pin. It stops -suddenly. The Beetle, unaware of my perfidy, doubtless believes that -some natural obstacle, a rut, a tuft of couch-grass, a pebble, bars the -way. He redoubles his efforts, struggles his hardest; nothing happens. - -‘What can the matter be? Let’s go and see.’ - -The Beetle walks two or three times round his pellet. Discovering -nothing to account for its immobility, he returns to the rear and -starts pushing again. The ball remains stationary. - -‘Let’s look up above.’ - -The Beetle goes up, to find nothing but his motionless colleague, for I -had taken care to drive in the pin so deep that the head disappeared in -the ball. He explores the whole upper surface and comes down again. -Fresh thrusts are vigorously applied in front and at the sides, with -the same absence of success. There is not a doubt about it: never -before was Dung-beetle confronted with such a problem in inertia. - -Now is the time, the very time, to claim assistance, which is all the -easier as his mate is there, close at hand, squatting on the summit of -the ball. Will the Scarab rouse him? Will he talk to him like this: - -‘What are you doing there, lazybones? Come and look at the thing: it’s -broken down!’ - -Nothing proves that he does anything of the kind, for I see him -steadily shaking the unshakable, inspecting his stationary machine on -every side, while all this time his companion sits resting. At long -last, however, the latter becomes aware that something unusual is -happening; he is apprised of it by his mate’s restless tramping and by -the immobility of the ball. He comes down, therefore, and in his turn -examines the machine. Double harness does no better than single -harness. This is beginning to look serious. The little fans of the -Beetles’ antennæ open and shut, open again, betraying by their -agitation acute anxiety. Then a stroke of genius ends the perplexity: - -‘Who knows what’s underneath?’ - -They now start exploring below the ball; and a little digging soon -reveals the presence of the pin. They recognize at once that the -trouble is there. - -If I had had a voice in their deliberations, I should have said: - -‘We must make a hole in the ball and pull out that skewer which is -holding it down.’ - -This most elementary of all proceedings and one so easy to such expert -diggers was not adopted, was not even tried. The Dung-beetle was -shrewder than man. The two colleagues, one on this side, one on that, -slip under the ball, which begins to slide up the pin, getting higher -and higher in proportion as the living wedges make their way -underneath. The clever operation is made possible by the softness of -the material, which gives easily and makes a channel under the head of -the immovable stake. Soon the pellet is suspended at a height equal to -the thickness of the Scarabs’ bodies. The rest is not such plain -sailing. The Dung-beetles, who at first were lying flat, rise gradually -to their feet, still pushing with their backs. The work becomes harder -and harder as the legs, in straightening out, lose their strength; but -none the less they do it. Then comes a time when they can no longer -push with their backs, the limit of their height having been reached. A -last resource remains, but one much less favourable to the development -of motive power. This is for the insect to adopt one or other of its -postures when harnessed to the ball, head down or up, and to push with -its hind- or fore-legs, as the case may be. Finally the ball drops to -the ground, unless we have used too long a pin. The gash made by our -stake is repaired, more or less, and the carting of the precious pellet -is at once resumed. - -But, should the pin really be too long, then the ball, which remains -firmly fixed, ends by being suspended at a height above that of the -insect’s full stature. In that case, after vain evolutions around the -unconquerable greased pole, the Dung-beetles throw up the sponge, -unless we are sufficiently kind-hearted to finish the work ourselves -and restore their treasure to them. Or again we can help them by -raising the floor with a small flat stone, a pedestal from the top of -which it is possible for the Beetle to continue his labours. Its use -does not appear to be immediately understood, for neither of the two is -in any hurry to take advantage of it. Nevertheless, by accident or -design, one or other at last finds himself on the stone. Oh, joy! As he -passed, he felt the ball touch his back. At that contact, courage -returns; and his efforts begin once more. Standing on his helpful -platform, the Scarab stretches his joints, rounds his shoulders, as one -might say, and shoves the pellet upwards. When his shoulders no longer -avail, he works with his legs, now upright, now head downwards. There -is a fresh pause, accompanied by fresh signs of uneasiness, when the -limit of extension is reached. Thereupon, without disturbing the -creature, we place a second little stone on the top of the first. With -the aid of this new step, which provides a fulcrum for its levers, the -insect pursues its task. Thus adding story upon story as required, I -have seen the Scarab, hoisted to the summit of a tottering pile three -or four fingers’-breadth in height, persevere in his work until the -ball was completely detached. - -Had he some vague consciousness of the service performed by the gradual -raising of the pedestal? I venture to doubt it, though he cleverly took -advantage of my platform of little stones. As a matter of fact, if the -very elementary idea of using a higher support in order to reach -something placed above one’s grasp were not beyond the Beetle’s -comprehension, how is it that, when there are two of them, neither -thinks of lending the other his back so as to raise him by that much -and make it possible for him to go on working? If one helped the other -in this way, they could reach twice as high. They are very far, -however, from any such cooperation. Each pushes the ball, with all his -might, I admit, but he pushes as if he were alone and seems to have no -notion of the happy result that would follow a combined effort. In this -instance, when the ball is nailed to the ground by a pin, they do -exactly what they do in corresponding circumstances, as, for example, -when the load is brought to a standstill by some obstacle, caught in a -loop of couch-grass or transfixed by some spiky bit of stalk that has -run into the soft, rolling mass. I produced artificially a stoppage -which is not really very different from those occurring naturally when -the ball is being rolled amid the thousand and one irregularities of -the ground; and the Beetle behaves, in my experimental tests, as he -would have behaved in any other circumstances in which I had no part. -He uses his back as a wedge and a lever and pushes with his feet, -without introducing anything new into his methods, even when he has a -companion and can avail himself of his assistance. - -When he is all alone in face of the difficulty, when he has no -assistant, his dynamic operations remain absolutely the same; and his -efforts to move his transfixed ball end in success, provided that we -give him the indispensable support of a platform, built up little by -little. If we deny him this succour, then, no longer encouraged by the -contact of his beloved ball, he loses heart and sooner or later flies -away, doubtless with many regrets, and disappears. Where to? I do not -know. What I do know is that he does not return with a gang of -fellow-labourers whom he has begged to help him. What would he do with -them, he who cannot make use of even one comrade? - -But perhaps my experiment, which leaves the ball suspended at an -inaccessible height and the insect with its means of action exhausted, -is a little too far removed from ordinary conditions. Let us try -instead a miniature pit, deep enough and steep enough to prevent the -Dung-beetle, when placed at the bottom, from rolling his load up the -side. These are exactly the conditions stated by Messrs. Blanchard and -Illiger. Well, what happens? When dogged but utterly fruitless efforts -have convinced him of his helplessness, the Beetle takes wing and -disappears. Relying upon what these learned writers said, I have waited -long hours for the insect to return reinforced by a few friends. I have -always waited in vain. Many a time also I have found the pellet several -days later just where I left it, stuck at the top of a pin or in a -hole, proving that nothing fresh had happened in my absence. A ball -abandoned from necessity is a ball abandoned for good, with no attempt -at salvage with the aid of others. A dexterous use of wedge and lever -to set the ball rolling again is therefore, when all is said, the -greatest intellectual effort which I have observed in the Sacred -Beetle. To make up for what the experiment refutes, namely, an appeal -for help among fellow-workers, I gladly chronicle this feat of -mechanical prowess for the Dung-beetles’ greater glory. - -Directing their steps at random, over sandy plains thick with thyme, -over cart-ruts and steep places, the two Beetle brethren roll the ball -along for some time, thus giving its substance a certain consistency -which may be to their liking. While still on the road, they select a -favourable spot. The rightful owner, the Beetle who throughout has kept -the place of honour, behind the ball, the one in short who has done -almost all the carting by himself, sets to work to dig the dining-room. -Beside him is the ball, with number two clinging to it, shamming dead. -Number one attacks the sand with his sharp-edged forehead and his -toothed legs; he flings armfuls of it behind him; and the work of -excavating proceeds apace. Soon the Beetle has disappeared from view in -the half-dug cavern. Whenever he returns to the upper air with a load, -he invariably glances at his ball to see if all is well. From time to -time he brings it nearer the threshold of the burrow; he feels it and -seems to acquire new vigour from the contact. The other, lying demure -and motionless on the ball, continues to inspire confidence. Meanwhile -the underground hall grows larger and deeper; and the digger’s field of -operations is now too vast for any but very occasional appearances. Now -is the time. The crafty sleeper awakens and hurriedly decamps with the -ball, which he pushes behind him with the speed of a pickpocket anxious -not to be caught in the act. This breach of trust rouses my -indignation, but the historian triumphs for the moment over the -moralist and I leave him alone: I shall have time enough to intervene -on the side of law and order if things threaten to turn out badly. - -The thief is already some yards away. His victim comes out of the -burrow, looks around and finds nothing. Doubtless an old hand himself, -he knows what this means. Scent and sight soon put him on the track. He -makes haste and catches up the robber; but the artful dodger, when he -feels his pursuer close on his heels, promptly changes his posture, -gets on his hind-legs and clasps the ball with his toothed arms, as he -does when acting as an assistant. - -You rogue, you! I see through your tricks: you mean to plead as an -excuse that the pellet rolled down the slope and that you are only -trying to stop it and bring it back home. I, however, an impartial -witness, declare that the ball was quite steady at the entrance to the -burrow and did not roll of its own accord. Besides, the ground is -level. I declare that I saw you set the thing in motion and make off -with unmistakable intentions. It was an attempt at larceny, or I’ve -never seen one! - -My evidence is not admitted. The owner cheerfully accepts the other’s -excuses; and the two bring the ball back to the burrow as though -nothing had happened. - -If the thief, however, has time to get far enough away, or if he -manages to cover his trail by adroitly doubling back, the injury is -irreparable. To collect provisions under a blazing sun, to cart them a -long distance, to dig a comfortable banqueting-hall in the sand, and -then—just when everything is ready and your appetite, whetted by -exercise, lends an added charm to the approaching feast—suddenly to -find yourself cheated by a crafty partner is, it must be admitted, a -reverse of fortune that would dishearten most of us. The Dung-beetle -does not allow himself to be cast down by this piece of ill-luck: he -rubs his cheeks, spreads his antennæ, sniffs the air and flies to the -nearest heap to begin all over again. I admire and envy this cast of -character. - -Suppose the Scarab fortunate enough to have found a loyal partner; or, -better still, suppose that he has met no self-incited companion. The -burrow is ready. It is a shallow cavity, about the size of one’s fist, -dug in soft earth, usually in sand, and communicating with the outside -by a short passage just wide enough to admit the ball. As soon as the -provisions are safely stored away, the Scarab shuts himself in by -stopping up the entrance to his dwelling with rubbish kept in a corner -for the purpose. Once the door is closed, nothing outside betrays the -existence of the banqueting-chamber. And, now, hail mirth and jollity! -All is for the best in the best of all possible worlds! The table is -sumptuously spread; the ceiling tempers the heat of the sun and allows -only a moist and gentle warmth to penetrate; the undisturbed quiet, the -darkness, the Crickets’ concert overhead are all pleasant aids to -digestion. So complete has been the illusion that I have caught myself -listening at the door, expecting to hear the revellers burst into the -famous snatch in Galatée: [9] - - - Ah! qu’il est doux de ne rien faire, - Quand tout s’agite autour de nous? [10] - - -Who would dare disturb the bliss of such a banquet? But the desire for -knowledge is capable of all things; and I had the necessary daring. I -will set down here the result of my violation of the home. - -The ball by itself fills almost the whole room; the rich repast rises -from floor to ceiling. A narrow passage runs between it and the walls. -Here sit the banqueters, two at most, very often only one, belly to -table, back to the wall. Once the seat is chosen, no one stirs; all the -vital forces are absorbed by the digestive faculties. There is no -fidgeting, which might mean the loss of a mouthful; no dainty toying -with the food, which might cause some to be wasted. Everything has to -pass through, properly and in order. To see them seated so solemnly -around a ball of dung, one would think that they were conscious of -their function as cleansers of the earth and that they were -deliberately devoting themselves to that marvellous chemistry which out -of filth brings forth the flower that delights our eyes and the -Beetles’ wing-case that jewels our lawns in spring. For this supreme -work which turns into living matter the refuse which neither the Horse -nor the Mule can utilize, despite the perfection of their digestive -organs, the Dung-beetle must needs be specially equipped. And indeed -anatomy compels us to admire the prodigious length of his coiled -intestine, which slowly elaborates the materials in its manifold -windings and exhausts them to the very last serviceable atom. Matter -from which the ruminant’s stomach could extract nothing, yields to this -powerful alembic riches that, at a mere touch, are transmuted into ebon -mail in the Sacred Scarab and a breastplate of gold and rubies in other -Dung-beetles. - -Now this wonderful metamorphosis of ordure has to be accomplished in -the shortest possible time: the public health demands it. And so the -Scarab is endowed with matchless digestive powers. Once housed in the -company of food, he goes on eating and digesting, day and night, until -the provisions are exhausted. There is no difficulty in proving this. -Open the cell to which the Dung-beetle has retired from the world. At -any hour of the day, we shall find the insect seated at table and, -behind it, still hanging to it, a continuous cord, roughly coiled like -a pile of cables. One can easily guess, without embarrassing -explanations, what this cord represents. The great ball of dung passes -mouthful by mouthful through the Beetle’s digestive canals, yielding up -its nutritive essences, and reappears at the opposite end spun into a -cord. Well, this unbroken cord, which is always found hanging from the -aperture of the draw-plate, is ample proof, without further evidence, -that the digestive processes go on without ceasing. When the provisions -are coming to an end, the cable unrolled is of an astounding length: it -can be measured in feet. Where shall we find the like of this stomach -which, to avoid any loss when life’s balance-sheet is made out, feasts -for a week or a fortnight, without stopping, on such distasteful fare? - -When the whole ball has passed through the machine, the hermit comes -back to the daylight, tries his luck afresh, finds another patch of -dung, fashions a new ball and starts eating again. This life of -pleasure lasts for a month or two, from May to June; then, with the -coming of the fierce heat beloved of the Cicadæ, [11] the Sacred -Beetles take up their summer quarters and bury themselves in the cool -earth. They reappear with the first autumn rains, less numerous and -less active than in spring, but now seemingly absorbed in the most -important work of all, the future of the species. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE SACRED BEETLE IN CAPTIVITY - - -If we ransack the books for information about the habits of the -dung-rollers in general and the Sacred Beetle in particular, we find -that modern science still clings to some of the beliefs which were -current in the days of the Pharaohs. We are told that the ball which is -bumped across the fields contains an egg, that it is a cradle in which -the future larva is to find both board and lodging. The parents roll it -over hilly country to make it nice and round; and, when jolts and jars -and tumbles down steep places have shaped it properly, they bury it and -abandon it to the care of that great incubator, the earth. - -So rough an upbringing has always seemed to me improbable. How could a -Beetle’s egg, that delicate thing, so sensitive under its soft wrapper, -survive the shaking-up which it would undergo in that rolling cradle? -In the germ is a spark of life which the least touch, the veriest -trifle can extinguish. Are we to believe that the parents would -deliberately bump it over hill and dale for hours? No, that is not the -way in which things happen; a mother does not subject her offspring to -the torture of a Regulus’ barrel. - -However, something more than logic was needed to make a clean sweep of -accepted opinion. I therefore opened some hundreds of the pellets that -were being rolled along by the Dung-beetles; I opened others which I -took from holes dug before my eyes; and never once did I find either a -central cell or an egg in those pellets. They were invariably rough -lumps of food, fashioned in haste, with no definite internal structure, -merely so much provender with which the Beetle retires to spend a few -days in undisturbed gluttony. The dung-rollers covet and steal them -from one another with a keenness which they would certainly not display -in robbing one another of new family charges. For Sacred Beetles to go -stealing eggs would be an absurdity, each of them having quite enough -to do in securing the future of her own. So this point is henceforward -settled beyond question: the pellets which we see the Dung-beetles -rolling never contain eggs. - -My first attempt to solve the knotty problem of the larva’s rearing -involved the construction of a spacious vivarium, with an artificial -soil of sand and a constant supply of provisions. Into this cage I put -some twenty Sacred Beetles, together with Copres, Gymnopleuri and -Onthophagi. No entomological experiment ever cost me so many -disappointments. The difficulty was the renewing of the food supply. -Now my landlord owned a stable and a Horse. I gained the confidence of -his man, who at first laughed at my proposals, but soon allowed himself -to be convinced by the sight of silver. Each of my insects’ breakfasts -came to twenty-five centimes. I am sure that no Beetle budget ever -amounted to such a sum before. Well, I can still see and I shall always -see Joseph, after grooming the Horse of a morning, put his head over -the garden-wall and, making a speaking-trumpet of his hand, call ‘Hi!’ -to me in a whisper. I would hurry up to receive a potful of droppings. -Caution was necessary on both sides, as the sequel will show you. One -day the master happened to come up just when the transfer was being -made, and took it into his head that all his manure was going over the -wall and that what he wanted for his cabbages went to grow my verbenas -and narcissi. Vainly I tried to explain: he thought that I was being -funny. Poor Joseph was scolded, called all manner of names and -threatened with dismissal if it happened again. It didn’t. - -I had one resource left, which was to go ignominiously along the -high-road and furtively collect my captives’ daily bread in a paper -bag. This I did and I am not ashamed of it. Sometimes fortune favoured -me: a Donkey carrying the produce of the Château-Renard or Barbentane -kitchen-gardens to the Avignon market would drop his contribution as he -passed my door. The gratuity, picked up instantly, made me rich for -several days. In short, by scheming, waiting, running about and playing -the diplomat for a blob of dung, I managed to feed my prisoners. If a -passion for one’s work and a love which nothing can discourage ensure -success, my experiment ought to have succeeded. It did not succeed. -After a time, my Sacred Beetles, pining for their native heath in a -space too limited for their elaborate evolutions, died miserable -deaths, without revealing their secrets. The Gymnopleuri and Onthophagi -were not so disappointing. At the proper time I shall make use of the -information which I obtained from them. - -Together with my attempts at home breeding I carried on my direct -investigations abroad. The results fell far short of my wishes. One day -I decided that I must enlist outside help. As it happened, a merry band -of youngsters was crossing the plateau. It was a Thursday. [12] -Untroubled by thoughts of school and horrid lessons, they were coming -from the neighbouring village of Les Angles, with an apple in one hand -and a piece of bread in the other, and wending their way to the bare -hill yonder, where the bullets bury themselves harmlessly when the -garrison is at rifle-practice. The object of this early morning -expedition was the unearthing of a few bits of lead, worth perhaps a -halfpenny the lot. The small pink blossoms of the wild geranium decked -the scanty patches of grass which for a brief moment beautified this -Arabia Petræa; the Wheat-ear, in his black-and-white motley, twittered -as he flew from one rocky point to another; on the threshold of burrows -dug at the foot of the thyme-tufts, the Crickets were filling the air -with their droning symphony. And the children were rejoicing in this -springtide happiness and rejoicing still more in the prospect of -wealth, the halfpenny which they would receive for such bullets as they -found, the halfpenny which would enable them to buy two peppermint -bull’s-eyes next Sunday, two of the big ones, at a farthing apiece, -from the woman at the stall outside the church. - -I accost the tallest, whose sharp face gives me some hope of him; the -little ones stand round, eating their apples. I explain what I want and -show them the Sacred Beetle rolling his ball; I tell them that in some -such ball, hidden somewhere or other underground, there is occasionally -a little hollow place and in that hollow a little worm. The thing to do -is to dig around at random, keeping an eye on what the Beetles are -doing, and to find the ball containing the worm. Balls without a worm -don’t count. And, to tempt them with a fabulous sum which shall divert -to my purposes the time hitherto devoted to a few farthings’ worth of -lead, I promise to pay a franc, a shiny new twenty-sou piece, for each -occupied ball. At the mention of this sum, those adorably innocent eyes -open their widest. I have upset all their ideas of finance by naming -this fanciful price. Then, to show that my proposal is serious, I -distribute a few sous as earnest-money. I arrange to be there next -week, on the same day and at the same time, and faithfully to perform -my part of the bargain towards all those who have made the lucky find. -After carefully posting the party in their duties, I dismiss them. - -‘He means it!’ the children said, as they went away. ‘He really means -it! If only we could make a franc apiece!’ - -And their hearts swelling with fond hopes, they clinked the sous in -their hands. The flattened bullets were forgotten. I saw the children -scatter over the plain and begin their search. - -On the appointed day, a week later, I returned to the plateau. I was -confident of success. My young helpers were sure to have spoken to -their playmates of this lucrative trade in Beetle-balls and convinced -the incredulous by displaying their earnest-money. And indeed I found a -larger party than the first time awaiting me on the spot. They came -running to meet me, but there was no burst of triumph, no shout of joy. -I suspected at once that things were going badly; and my suspicions -were but too well-founded. Many times, after coming out of school, they -had hunted for what I had described, but they had never discovered -anything like it. They handed me a few pellets found underground with -the Beetle, but these were simply masses of provisions, containing no -larva. I explained matters anew and made another appointment for the -following Thursday. Again the search was unsuccessful. The disheartened -little hunters were now reduced to quite a small number. I made a final -appeal to their sportsmanship and perseverance; but nothing came of it. -And I ended by compensating the most industrious, those who had held -out to the last, and cancelling the bargain. I had to conduct my own -researches, which, though apparently very simple, were in reality -extremely difficult. - -Many years have passed since then, but even to-day I am without any -definite, consistent result after all my digging and exploring, though -I have made my examinations at the most likely spots and have carefully -watched for favourable opportunities. I am reduced to piecing together -my incomplete observations and filling up the gaps by analogy. [13] The -little that I have seen, combined with my study of other Dung-beetles -in captivity—Gymnopleuri, Copres and Onthophagi—is summed up in what -follows. - -The ball which is destined to contain the egg is not made in public, in -the hurry and confusion of the dung-yard. It is a work of art and -supreme patience, demanding concentration and scrupulous care, both -alike impossible in the thick of the crowd. One needs solitude in order -to think out a plan of operations and set to work. So the mother digs -in the sand a burrow four to eight inches deep. It is a rather spacious -hall communicating with the outer world by a much narrower passage. The -insect brings into it carefully selected materials, doubtless in -spherical form. There must be many journeys, for towards the end of the -work the contents of the cell are out of all proportion to the size of -the entrance-door and could not be stored at one attempt. I remember a -Spanish Copris who, at the time of my inspection, was finishing a ball -as big as an orange at the far end of a burrow whose only communication -with the outside was by means of a gallery into which I was just able -to insert my finger. It is true that the Copres do not roll pills and -do not travel long distances to fetch food home. They dig a hole -immediately under the dung and drag the material backwards, armful by -armful, to the bottom of their well. They have thus no difficulty in -provisioning their houses; moreover, they work in security under the -shelter of the manure: two conditions that promote luxurious tastes. -The Dung-beetles that follow the humble trade of pill-rollers are less -extravagant; and yet, if he cares to make two or three journeys, the -Sacred Beetle can amass wealth of which the Spanish Copris might well -be jealous. - -So far, the Beetle has only raw material, lumped together anyhow. A -minute sorting has to take place before anything else is done: this -stuff, the purest, is for the inner layer on which the grub will feed; -that other, coarser stuff is for the outer layers, which are not meant -for food and serve only as a protecting shell. Then, around a central -hollow which receives the egg, the materials must be arranged in -successive strata, according as they are less refined and less -nutritive; the layers must possess a proper consistency and must be -made to adhere to one another; last of all, the stringy parts of the -outer layers, which have to protect the whole structure, must be felted -together. How does the clumsy Sacred Beetle, who is so stiff in her -movements, accomplish a work of this kind in complete darkness, at the -bottom of a hole crammed with provisions and hardly leaving room to -stir? When I consider the delicacy of the workmanship and then the -rough tools of the worker—angular limbs capable of cutting into hard or -even rocky soil—I think of an Elephant trying to make lace. Let whoso -can explain this miracle of maternal industry; as for me, I give it up, -all the more as I have not had the luck to see the artist at work. We -will confine ourselves to describing her masterpiece. - -The ball containing the egg is usually the size of an average apple. In -the centre is an oval hollow about two-fifths of an inch in diameter. -The egg is fixed at the bottom, standing perpendicularly; it is -cylindrical, rounded at both ends, yellowish-white and about as large -as a grain of wheat, but shorter. The inside of the niche is coated -with a shiny, greenish-brown, semifluid material, a real stercoral -cream, destined to form the larva’s first mouthfuls. To make this -dainty food, does the mother collect the quintessence of the dung? The -appearance of it tells me something different and makes me certain that -it is a pap prepared in the maternal stomach. The Pigeon softens the -grain in her crop and turns it into a sort of milky soup which she -subsequently disgorges to her brood. To all seeming, the Dung-beetle -displays the same solicitude: she half-digests choice provender and -disgorges it in the form of a meat-extract with which she lines the -walls of the cavity where the egg is laid. Thus the larva, on hatching, -finds an easily-digested food, which very soon strengthens its stomach -and enables it to attack the underlying strata, which have not been -refined in the same way. Under the semi-fluid paste is a soft, -well-compressed, uniform mass, from which every stringy particle is -excluded. Beyond this are the coarser layers, abounding in vegetable -fibres. Finally, the outside of the ball is composed of the commonest -materials, but packed and felted into a stout rind. - -Manifestly we have here a progressive change of diet. On leaving the -egg, the frail grub licks the dainty broth on the walls of its cell. -There is not much of this, but it is strengthening and very nutritious. -The pap of earliest infancy is followed by the more solid food given to -the weaned nurseling, a sort of paste that stands midway between the -exquisitely delicate fare at the start and the coarse provisions at the -finish. There is a thick layer of it, enough to turn the infant into a -sturdy youngster. But now for the strong comes strong meat: -barley-bread with its husks, that is to say, natural droppings full of -sharp bits of hay. Of this the larva has enough and to spare; and, when -it has attained its full growth, there remains an enclosing layer. The -capacity of the dwelling has increased with the growth of the occupant, -fed on the very substance of the walls; the original little cell with -the very thick walls is now a big cell with walls only a few -millimetres in thickness; the inner layers have become larva, nymph or -Beetle, according to the period. Lastly, the ball itself is a stout -shell, protecting within its spacious interior the mysterious processes -of the metamorphosis. - -I can go no farther, for lack of observations; my records of the birth -of the Sacred Beetle stop short at the egg. I have not seen the larva, -which however is known and is described in the text-books; [14] nor -have I seen the perfect insect while still enclosed in its chamber in -the ball, before it has had any practice in its duties as a pill-roller -and excavator. And this is just what I particularly wanted to see. I -should have liked to find the Dung-beetle in his native cell, recently -transformed, new to all labour, so as to examine the workman’s hand -before it started its work. I will tell you the reason for this wish. - -Insects have at the end of each leg a sort of finger, or tarsus as it -is called, consisting of a succession of delicate parts which may be -compared with the joints of our fingers. They end in a hooked claw. One -finger to each leg: that is the rule; and this finger, at least with -the higher Beetles and notably the Dung-beetles, has five phalanges or -joints. Now, by a really strange exception, the Scarabs have no tarsi -on their front legs, while possessing very well-shaped ones, with five -joints apiece, on the two other pairs. They are maimed, crippled: they -lack, on their fore-limbs, that which in the insect very roughly -represents our hand. A similar anomaly occurs in the Onitis- and -Bubas-beetles, who also belong to the Dung-beetle family. Entomology -has long recorded this curious fact, without being able to offer a -satisfactory explanation. Is the creature born maimed, does it come -into the world without fingers to its forelimbs? Or does it lose them -by accident, once it is given over to its toilsome labours? - -One could easily imagine this mutilation to be the result of the -insect’s hard work. Poking about, digging and raking and slicing, at -one time in the gravelly soil, at another in the stringy mass of -manure, do not constitute a task in which organs so delicate as the -tarsi can be employed without risk. And here is an even more serious -matter: when the Beetle is rolling his ball backwards, with his head -down, it is with the extremities of his fore-feet that he presses -against the ground. What might not happen to the insect’s feeble -fingers, slender as thread, in consequence of this continual rubbing -against the rough soil? They are merely useless encumbrances; one day -or other they seem bound to disappear, crushed, torn off, worn out in a -thousand ways. We know unfortunately that our own workmen are all too -frequently injured in handling heavy tools and lifting great weights; -even so might the Scarab be crippled in rolling his ball, an enormous -load to him. In that case his maimed arms would be a noble testimony to -his industrious life. - -But straightway grave doubts begin to assail us. If these mutilations -were really accidental and the result of too strenuous work, they would -be the exception, not the rule. Because a workman or several workmen -have had a hand caught and crushed in a machine, it does not follow -that all the rest will also lose their hands. If the Scarab sometimes, -or even very frequently, loses his fore-fingers in pursuing his trade -as a pill-roller, there must be some at least who, more fortunate or -more skilful, have preserved their tarsi. Let us then consult the -actual facts. I have observed in very large numbers the various species -of Scarabs that inhabit France: Scarabæus sacer, who is common in -Provence; S. semipunctatus, who keeps fairly close to the sea and -frequents the sandy shores of Cette, Palavas and the Golfe Juan; -lastly, S. laticollis, who is much more widely distributed than either -of the others and is found up the Rhone Valley at least as far as -Lyons. In addition, I have studied an African species, S. cicatricosus, -picked up near Constantine. Well, in all four species, the absence of -tarsi on the front legs has been an invariable fact, with not a single -exception, at any rate within the range of my observations. The Scarab -therefore is maimed from the start; and it is a natural peculiarity in -his case, not an accident. - -Besides, there is another argument in support of this statement. If the -lack of fore-fingers were an accidental mutilation, due to violent -exertion, there are other insects, Dung-beetles too, who habitually -undertake works of excavation even more arduous than the Scarab’s, and -who ought therefore, a fortiori, to be deprived of their front tarsi, -since these are useless and even irksome when the leg has to serve as a -powerful digging-implement. The Geotrupes, for instance, who so well -deserve their name, meaning Earth-piercers, sink wells in the hard soil -of the roads, among stones cemented with clay: perpendicular wells so -deep that, to inspect the cell at the bottom of them, we have to make -use of a stout spade; and even then we do not always succeed. Now these -unrivalled miners, who easily open up long tunnels in a substance whose -surface the Sacred Beetle would hardly be able to disturb, have their -front tarsi intact, as if cutting through rocks were work calling for -delicate tools rather than strong ones. Everything then supports the -belief that, if we could see the Scarab while still a novice in his -native cell, we should find him to be mutilated in just the same way as -the much-travelled veteran who has worn himself out with toil. - -This absence of fingers might serve as the foundation for an argument -in favour of the theories now in fashion: the struggle for life and the -evolution of the species. People might say: - -‘The Scarabs began by having tarsi to all their legs, in conformity -with the general laws of insect structure. In one way or another, some -of them lost these troublesome appendages to their front legs, they -being hurtful rather than useful. Finding themselves the better for -this mutilation, which made their work easier, they gained the -advantage over their less-favoured fellows; they founded a family by -handing down their fingerless stumps to their descendants; and the -fingered insect of antiquity ended by becoming the maimed insect of our -times.’ - -I am ready to yield to this reasoning if you will first tell me why, -with similar but much harder tasks to perform, the Geotrupes has -retained his tarsi. Until then we will go on believing that the first -Scarab who rolled his ball, perhaps on the shore of some lake in which -the Palæotherium bathed, was as innocent of front tarsi as his -descendant of to-day. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE SACRED BEETLE: THE BALL - - -There is no need to return to the Sacred Beetle working in the daylight -or consuming his booty underground, either alone, as usually happens, -or in the company of a guest: what I have said about this in a former -chapter is enough; and further observations would give no new -information of special interest. There is only one point which deserves -attention. This is the method of constructing the spherical pellet, -consisting merely of provisions which the Beetle collects for his own -use and conveys to an underground dining-room excavated at a convenient -spot. My present cages, which are much better arranged than those which -I had at first, enable us to watch the operation at our leisure; and -this operation will furnish data which will be of the greatest value -later in explaining the mysterious structure of the nest. Let us then -once more watch the Sacred Beetle as he busies himself with his -victuals. - -I supply fresh provisions, derived from the Mule or, better, the Sheep. -The scent of the heap carries the news far and wide. The Beetles hasten -up from every direction, extending and waving the russet feathers of -their antennæ, a sign of acute excitement. Those who were dozing -underground split the sandy ceiling and sally forth from their cellars. -They are now all at the banquet, not without quarrels among neighbours, -who fight for the best bits and knock one another over with sudden -back-handers from their broad fore-legs. Things calm down; and, without -further disputes for the moment, each gets all that he can out of the -spot where he happens to be. - -The foundation of the structure is, as a rule, a bit that is almost -round of itself. This is the kernel which, enlarged by successive -layers, will become the ultimate ball, the size of an apricot. Having -tested it and found it suitable, the owner leaves it as it is; or, at -other times, he may clean it a little, scraping the outside, which is -rough with bits of sand. It is now a question of constructing the ball -upon this foundation. The tools are the six-toothed rake of the -semicircular shield and the broad shovels of the fore-legs, which are -likewise armed on the outer edge with strong teeth, five in number. - -Without for a moment letting go of the kernel, which is held in his -four hind-legs, more particularly those of the third, the longest pair, -the Beetle turns round slowly from side to side on the top of his -embryo pellet and selects from the heap around him the materials for -increasing its size. His sharp-edged forehead peels, cuts, digs and -rakes; his fore-legs work in unison, gathering and drawing up an armful -which is at once placed upon the central mass and patted down. A few -vigorous applications of the toothed shovels press the new layer into -position. And so, with armful after armful carefully added on top, -beneath and at the sides, the original pill grows into a big ball. - -While working, the builder never leaves the dome of his edifice: he -revolves on his own axis, if he wants to give his attention to any -lateral part; to shape the lower portion, he bends down to the point -where it touches the ground; but from beginning to end the sphere never -moves on its base and the Beetle never relaxes his hold. - -To obtain a perfectly round form, we need the potter’s wheel, whose -rotation makes up for our want of skill; to enlarge his snowball and -make it into the enormous sphere which he will end by being unable to -move, the schoolboy rolls it in the snow: the rolling gives it the -regularity which the direct work of the hands, guided by an -inexperienced eye, would not. More dexterous than we, the Sacred Beetle -can dispense with either rolling or rotation; he moulds his ball by -means of superadded layers, without shifting its place and without even -descending for an instant from the top of his dome to view the whole -structure from the requisite distance. The compasses of his bow-legs, a -living pair of callipers which measure and check the curve, are -sufficient for his purpose. - -It is only with extreme caution, however, that I introduce these -callipers, as I am perfectly convinced, by a host of facts, that -instinct has no need of special tools. If further proof were wanted, -here it is. The male Scarab’s hind-legs are perceptibly bowed; the -female’s, on the contrary, are almost straight, though she is much the -cleverer and is able, as we shall see presently, to produce -masterpieces whose exquisite form far surpasses that of a monotonous -sphere. - -If the curved compasses play but a secondary part in the matter and -perhaps no part at all, what is the guiding principle of this -sphericity? If one merely took into consideration the insect’s organism -and the circumstances in which the work is done, I see absolutely none. -We must go back farther, we must go back to the innate genius, the -instinct that guides the tool. The Scarab has a natural gift for making -spheres, just as the Hive-bee has a natural gift for making hexagonal -prisms. Both achieve geometrical perfection in their work and are -independent of any special mechanism which would force upon them the -particular shape attained. - -For the time being, keep this in mind: the Sacred Beetle makes his ball -by placing next to each other armful after armful of the materials -which he has collected; he builds it up without moving it, without -turning it round. He fashions the dung with the pressure of his -fore-arms as the modeller in our studios fashions his clay with the -pressure of his thumb. And the result is not an approximate sphere, -with a lumpy surface; it is a perfect sphere, which our human -manufacturers would not disown. - -The time has come for retiring with the booty so that we may bury it -farther away, at no great depth, and consume it in peace. The owner, -therefore, draws his ball out of the dung-yard; and, in accordance with -ancient usage, begins straightway to roll it about on the ground, a -little at random. Any one who was not present at the beginning and who -now saw the ball rolling along, with the insect pushing it backwards, -would naturally imagine that the round shape resulted from this method -of transport. It rolls, therefore it becomes round, even as a shapeless -lump of clay would soon become round if trundled in the same way. -Though apparently logical, the idea is erroneous in every respect: we -have just seen this perfect sphericity acquired before the ball moved -from the spot. The rolling therefore has nothing to do with this -geometrical accuracy; it merely hardens the surface into a tough crust -and polishes it a little, if only by working into the substance of the -pellet any coarse bits that might have made it rough at the beginning. -Between the pill that has been rolled for hours and the pill that is -stationary in the dung-yard there is no difference in configuration. - -What is the advantage of this particular shape, which is invariably -adopted at the very outset of the work? Does the Scarab derive any -benefit from the circular form? Your spectacles would have to be made -of walnut-shells if you failed to see that the insect is brilliantly -inspired when it kneads its cake into a ball. These victuals, the -meagrest of meagre pittances from the point of view of nourishment, for -the Sheep’s fourfold stomach has already extracted pretty nearly all -the assimilable matter, have to make up in quantity for what they lack -in quality. - -It is the same with various other Dung-beetles. They are all insatiable -gluttons; they all need a much larger amount of food than their modest -dimensions would lead us to suspect. The Spanish Copris, no bigger than -a good-sized hazel-nut, accumulates underground, for a single meal, a -pie as big as my fist; the Stercoraceous Geotrupes hoards in his hole a -sausage nine inches long and as wide as the neck of a claret-bottle. - -These mighty eaters have an easy time of it. They establish themselves -immediately under the heap dropped by some standing Mule. Here they dig -passages and dining-rooms. The provisions are at the door of the house; -they form a roof for it. All that you have to do is to bring them in, -armful by armful, taking only as much as you can carry comfortably, for -you can go on fetching more as long as you like. In this way, -scandalous quantities of food are unobtrusively stored away in peaceful -manors whose presence no outward sign betrays. - -The Sacred Beetle is not so fortunate as to have his cottage underneath -the heap where the victuals are collected. He is of a vagabond -temperament; and, when his work is over, he has no great inclination -for the company of those arrant thieves, his kinsmen. He has therefore -to travel to a distance with what he has secured, in quest of a site -where he can establish himself alone. His stock of provisions, it is -true, is comparatively modest: it is not to be mentioned in the same -breath as the Copris’ enormous cakes or the Geotrupes’ fat sausages. No -matter: modest though it be, its weight and bulk are too much for the -strength of any Beetle that might think of carrying it direct. It is -too heavy, ever so much too heavy, for him to take between his legs and -fly away with, nor could he possibly drag it, gripped in his mandibles. - -If the hermit, eager to withdraw from the world, wished to make use of -direct means of conveyance, there would be only one method by which he -could accumulate in his far-off cell food enough for even a single day: -that would be to carry load after load on the wing, each load being -proportionate to his strength. But what a number of journeys that would -involve! What a lot of time would be wasted in this piecemeal -harvesting! Besides, when he went back, would he not find the table -already cleared? Think of the number of guests who were giving it their -attention! The opportunity is a good one; it may not occur again for a -long while. We must make the most of it without delay; the thing to do -is to secure enough now to stock our larder for at least a day. - -But how to set about it? Nothing could be simpler. What we cannot carry -we drag; what we cannot drag we cart by rolling it along, as witness -all our wheeled conveyances. The Sacred Beetle therefore chooses the -sphere as a means of transport. It is the best shape of all for -rolling; it needs no axle-tree; it adapts itself admirably to the -diverse inequalities of the ground and, at each point of its surface, -provides the necessary leverage for the least expenditure of effort. -Such is the mechanical problem which the pill-roller solves. The -spherical form of his treasure is not the effect of the rolling: it -precedes it; it is modelled precisely with a view to that method of -conveyance, which is to make the carriage of the heavy load feasible. - -The Sacred Beetle is a passionate lover of the sun, whose image he -copies in the radiating notches of his rounded shield. He needs the -bright light in order to make the most of the heap whence he extracts -first provisions and next materials for nest-building. The other -Dung-beetles—Geotrupes, Copres, Onites, Onthophagi—for the most part -have dark, mysterious habits; they work unseen under the roof of -excrement; they do not begin their quest until night is at hand and the -last glimmer of twilight is fading. The more trustful Scarab both seeks -and finds amid the gladness of the noonday sun; he works his bit of -ground quite openly and reaps his harvest in the hottest and brightest -hours of the day. His ebon breastplate is glittering on top of the heap -at times when there is naught to indicate the presence of numerous -fellow-workers, belonging to other genera, who are busy underneath, -carving themselves their share of the lower strata. Darkness for -others, but for him the light! - -This love of the unscreened sun has its blissful side, as the insect, -drunk with heat, shows from time to time by exultant transports; but it -has also certain disadvantages. I have never witnessed any quarrel at -harvest-time between next-door neighbours, when these were Copres or -Geotrupes. Working in the dark, each is ignorant of what is happening -beside him. The rich morsel secured by one of them cannot arouse the -envy of his neighbours, since it is not perceived. This perhaps -explains the pacific relations among Dung-beetles who work in the -gloomy depths of the heap. - -My suspicions are not unfounded. Robbery, the execrable right of the -strongest, is not the exclusive prerogative of the human brute: animals -also practise it; and the Sacred Beetle is a notorious offender. As the -work is done in the open, every one knows or is able to find out what -his companions are doing. They are mutually envious of each other’s -pills; and scuffles take place between proprietors wishing to leave the -yard and plunderers who find it more convenient to rob their fellows -than to set to work and knead loaves for themselves. On guard on the -top of his treasure, the owner of a ball will face his assailant, who -is trying to climb up, and push him into space with a stroke from his -stout fore-arms. The thief is flung on his back and flounders about for -a moment, but he is soon up and back again. The struggle is renewed. -Right does not always win, in which case the robber makes off with his -prize and the victim returns to the heap to make himself another pill. -It is not unusual for a third thief to appear upon the scene during the -fight and settle matters between the litigants by carrying off the -property at issue. I am inclined to think that it was affrays of this -sort that gave rise to the childish story of the Sacred Beetles who -were called to the rescue and came to lend a hand to their brothers in -distress. Brazen footpads were taken for kindly helpers. - -The Sacred Beetle then is an inveterate thief; he shares the tastes of -the Bedouin Arab, his fellow-countryman in Africa; he too is addicted -to raiding. In his case, hunger and dearth, both evil counsellors, -cannot be invoked as an explanation of this moral obliquity. Provisions -are plentiful in my cages; certainly, in their days of liberty, my -captives never lived in the midst of such abundance; and yet affrays -are of frequent occurrence. They fight hotly-contested battles for the -loaves, just as though bread were lacking. Poverty has nothing to do -with it, for very often the thief abandons his booty after rolling it -for a few seconds. They steal for the pleasure of stealing. As La -Fontaine [15] well says, there is - - - ... double profit à faire: - Son bien premièrement; et puis le mal d’autrui. [16] - - -In view of this propensity for thieving, what is the best thing that a -Scarab can do when he has conscientiously made his ball? Obviously, to -shun his fellows, to leave the premises and get away to a distant spot -where he can consume his provisions in the depths of some hiding-place. -This is what he does; and he loses no time in doing it: he knows his -kinsmen too well. - -Here we see the necessity for an easy method of conveyance, so that -sufficient provisions may be carted in a single journey and as swiftly -as possible. The Sacred Beetle likes working in the bright light, in -the sunshine. His profits therefore, made in full view of everybody, -are no secret to any of the workers who have hurried to the same heap. -Thus is envy kindled; thus it becomes imperative to retire to a -distance, in order to avoid being robbed. This speedy retreat demands a -convenient means of transport; and that is obtained by the spherical -form given to the materials collected. - -Here is the conclusion, unexpected but very logical and I would even -say obvious: the Sacred Beetle shapes his provisions into a ball -because he is an ardent lover of the sun. The various Dung-beetles who -work in broad daylight, the Gymnopleuri and Sisyphi of my district, -conform to the same mechanical principle: they all know the advantages -of a sphere, the best rolling-apparatus; they all practise the art of -pill-making. The other Dung-beetles, who work in the dark, do nothing -of the kind: their accumulations of food are shapeless. - -Life in the vivarium supplies us with some other facts which are not -undeserving of the commentator’s attention. We have said that, when -fresh provisions are supplied, the Sacred Beetles who are roaming about -come running up eagerly to the smoking fare. The rich effluvia also -speedily attract those who are slumbering in their burrows. Little -mounds of sand pop up here and there, cracking as though for an -eruption, and we see new guests emerge, wiping the dust from their eyes -with the flat of their feet. Neither their dozing in that underground -room nor the thick roof of their dwelling has succeeded in foiling -their keenness of scent: those who have had to unearth themselves reach -the lump almost as quickly as the others. - -These details remind us of certain facts noted, not without surprise, -by a host of observers on the sunny beaches at Cette, Palavas, the -Golfe Juan and the North African coast, down to the lonely Sahara. Here -the Sacred Beetle and his kinsmen—the Half-spotted Scarab, the -Pock-marked Scarab and others—swarm, becoming more vigorous and more -active in proportion as the climate grows hotter. They abound; and yet -very often not one shows himself; the entomologist’s practised eye -fails to discover a single specimen. - -But now see things change. Seized with an urgent physiological need, -you leave your party unobtrusively and retire behind the bushes. You -have hardly stood up, hardly begun to adjust your dress, -when—whoosh!—here comes one, here come three, here come ten, appearing -suddenly you know not whence, and swoop upon the provender. Have they -hastened from afar, these bustling scavengers? Certainly not. Had they -been apprised at a great distance by their sense of smell, which is not -in itself impossible, they would not have had time to reach the quite -recent windfall so promptly. It follows, therefore, that they were -close by, within a radius of ten or twenty yards, hidden underground -and dozing. A scent that is ever awake, even in the lethargy of sleep, -told them, down in their burrows, of the happy event; and, splitting -their ceilings, they hurry up forthwith. In less time than the incident -takes to relate, a swarming population enlivens what was but now a -desert. - -A keen and vigilant scent is the Beetle’s, we must admit; a scent which -is always in operation. The Dog smells the truffle through the soil, -but he is awake; the pill-roller smells his favourite fare through the -ground in the opposite direction, but he is asleep. Which of the two -has the subtler scent? - -Science flings wide her net, welcoming even filth; and truth soars at -heights where nothing can soil her. The reader will therefore be good -enough to excuse certain details which cannot be avoided in a history -of the Dung-beetle; he will show some indulgence for what has gone -before and what will follow. The revolting workshop of the insect that -manipulates ordure will lead perhaps to loftier ideas than would the -perfumer’s factory with its jasmine and patchouli. - -I have accused the Sacred Beetle of being an insatiable gormandizer. It -is time to prove what I said. In my cages, which are too small to allow -of much pill-rolling, my boarders often scorn to accumulate provisions -and confine themselves to eating where they are. It is a good -opportunity for us: the meal taken in public will tell us better than -the underground banquet what a Dung-beetle’s stomach can do. - -On a very still and sultry day—these are the conditions most favourable -to my anchorites’ gastronomic joys—I observe one of the diners in the -open air, from eight o’clock in the morning until eight o’clock at -night. Watch in hand, I time the glutton. He appears to have come -across a morsel greatly to his taste, for, during those twelve hours, -he never stops feasting, but remains glued to the table, absolutely -stationary. At eight o’clock in the evening, I pay him a last visit. -His appetite seems undiminished; I find him in as fine fettle as at the -start. The banquet then must have gone on some time longer, until the -dish had disappeared entirely. In fact, next morning there was no sign -of my Beetle; and, of the sumptuous repast begun on the previous day, -naught remained but crumbs. - -To eat the clock round is no small feat of gluttony; but the present -instance shows a much more remarkable feat of digestion. While matter -is continuously being chewed and swallowed by the insect in front, it -is reappearing, no less continuously, behind, deprived of its nutritive -particles and spun into a thin black cord, similar to cobbler’s thread. -The Scarab never evacuates except at table, so quickly are his -digestive operations performed. The wire-drawing apparatus begins to -work at the first few mouthfuls; it ceases soon after the last. Without -a break from beginning to end of the meal, the slender cord, ever -appended to the discharging orifice, goes on piling itself into a heap -which can easily be unrolled so long as there is no sign of -desiccation. - -The working is as regular as that of a chronometer. Every minute, or -rather, to be exact, every four-and-fifty seconds, a discharge takes -place and the thread is lengthened by three to four millimetres. [17] -At long intervals I employ my tweezers, remove the cord and unroll the -mass along a graduated rule, in order to measure the amount produced. -The total for twelve hours is 2.88 metres. [18] As the meal and its -necessary complement, the work of the digestive apparatus, went on for -some time longer after my last visit, which was paid at eight o’clock -in the evening by lantern-light, my Beetle must have spun an unbroken -stercoraceous cord well over three yards in length. - -Given the diameter and the length of the thread, it is easy to -calculate its volume. Nor is it difficult to arrive at the exact volume -of the insect by measuring the quantity of water which it displaces -when immersed in a narrow cylinder. The figures thus obtained are not -devoid of interest: they tell us that, at a single bout of eating, in a -dozen hours, the Sacred Beetle digests very nearly his own bulk in -food. What a stomach! And, above all, what rapidity, what power of -digestion! From the very first mouthfuls, the residuum forms itself -into a thread that stretches and stretches indefinitely as long as the -meal lasts. In that amazing laboratory, which perhaps never puts up its -shutters, unless it be when victuals are lacking, the material merely -passes through, is at once treated by the stomach’s reagents and at -once exhausted. One may well believe that an apparatus which sanifies -filth so quickly has some part to play in the public health. We shall -have occasion to return to this important subject. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE SACRED BEETLE: THE PEAR - - -The young shepherd who had been told in his spare time to watch the -doings of the Sacred Beetle came to me in high spirits, one Sunday in -the latter part of June, to say that he thought the time had come to -begin our investigations. He had detected the insect issuing from the -ground, had dug at the spot where it made its appearance, and had -found, at no great depth, the queer thing which he was bringing me. - -Queer it was and calculated to upset the little that I thought I knew. -In shape, it was exactly like a tiny pear that had lost all its fresh -colour and turned brown in rotting. What could this curious object be, -this pretty plaything that seemed to have come from a turner’s -workshop? Was it made by human hands? Was it a model of the fruit of -the pear-tree intended for some children’s museum? One would say so. - -The little ones group themselves round me; they look at the -treasure-trove with longing eyes; they would like to add it to the -contents of their toy-box. It is much prettier in shape than an agate -marble, much more graceful than an ivory egg or a boxwood top. The -material, it is true, seems none too nicely chosen; but it is firm to -the touch and very artistically curved. In any case, the little pear -discovered underground must not go to swell the nursery collection -until we have found out more about it. - -Can it really be the Sacred Beetle’s work? Is there an egg inside it, a -grub? The shepherd assures me that there is. A similar pear, crushed by -accident in the digging, contained, he says, a white egg, the size of a -grain of wheat. I dare not believe it, so greatly does the object which -he has brought me differ from the ball which I expected to see. - -To open the mysterious prize and ascertain its contents would perhaps -be imprudent: such an act of violence might jeopardize the life of the -germ within, always provided that the Scarab’s egg be there, a matter -of which the shepherd seems convinced. Besides, I say to myself, the -pear-shape, so totally opposed to all our accepted ideas, is probably -accidental. Who knows if luck will ever give me anything like it again? -I should be wise to keep the thing just as it is and await events; -above all, I should be wise to go and seek for information on the spot. - -The shepherd was at his post by daybreak the next morning. I joined him -on some slopes that had been lately cleared of their trees, where the -hot summer sun, which strikes with such force on the back of one’s -neck, could not reach us for two or three hours. In the cool morning -air, with the Sheep browsing under Sultan’s care, the two of us -scattered on our search. - -A Sacred Beetle’s burrow is soon found: you can tell it by the fresh -little mound of earth above it. With a vigorous turn of the wrist, my -companion digs away with the little pocket-trowel which I have lent -him. Incorrigible earth-scraper that I am, I seldom set forth without -this light but serviceable tool. While he digs, I lie down, the better -to see the arrangement and furniture of the cellar which we are -unearthing, and I am all eyes. The shepherd uses the trowel as a lever -and, with his other hand, holds back and pushes aside the soil. - -Here we are! A cave opens out and, in the moist warmth of the yawning -vault, I see a splendid pear lying full length upon the ground. No, I -shall not soon forget this first revelation of the Scarab’s maternal -masterpiece. My excitement could have been no greater had I been an -archæologist digging among the ancient relics of Egypt and lighting -upon the sacred insect of the dead, carved in emerald, in some -Pharaonic crypt. O ineffable moment, when truth suddenly shines forth! -What other joys can compare with that holy rapture! The shepherd was in -the seventh heaven; he laughed in response to my smile and was happy in -my gladness. - -Luck does not repeat itself: ‘Non bis in idem,’ says the old adage. And -here have I twice had under my eyes this curious pear-shape. Is it by -any chance the normal shape, not subject to exception? Must we abandon -the thought of a sphere similar to those which the insect rolls along -the ground? Let us continue and we shall see. - -A second hole is found. Like the previous one, it contains a pear. My -two treasures are as like as two peas; they might have issued from the -same mould. And here is a valuable confirmatory detail: in the second -burrow, by the side of the pear and fondly embracing it, is the mother -Beetle, engaged no doubt in giving it the finishing touches before -leaving the underground cave for good. All doubts are dispelled: I know -the worker and I know the work. - -The rest of the morning provided abundant corroboration of these -premisses: before an intolerable sun drove me from the slope which I -was exploring, I was in possession of a dozen pears identical in shape -and almost in dimensions. On several occasions the mother was present -in the workshop. - -To conclude this part of our subject, let me tell what the future held -in store for me. All through the dog-days, from the end of June until -September, I paid almost daily visits to the spots frequented by the -Sacred Beetle; and the burrows unearthed by my trowel furnished an -amount of evidence exceeding my fondest hopes. The insects reared in -captivity supplied me with more facts, though these, it is true, were -very scanty in comparison with the rich crop from the open fields. All -told, about a hundred nests, at the lowest computation, passed through -my hands; and they were invariably the graceful pear-shape, never, -absolutely never, the round shape of the pill, never the ball of which -the books tell us. - -I myself once shared this error, placing as I did implicit confidence -in the words of the learned authorities. My old hunting-expeditions on -the Plateau des Angles led to no result; my attempts at home-rearing -failed pitifully; and yet I was anxious to give my young readers some -idea of the nest built by the Sacred Beetle. I therefore adopted the -traditional theory of the round shape; and then, taking analogy for my -guide, I made use of the little that I had learnt from other -dung-rollers to attempt an approximate sketch of the Sacred Beetle’s -work. It was an unlucky shot. Analogy no doubt is a valuable servant, -but oh, how poor compared with direct observation! Deceived by this -guide, so often untrustworthy amid the inexhaustible variety of life, I -helped to perpetuate the blunder; and so I hasten to apologize, begging -the reader to dismiss from his mind the little that I have said -heretofore on the probable nest-building methods of the Sacred Beetle. - -And now let us unfold the authentic story, admitting as evidence only -facts actually observed again and again. The Sacred Beetle’s nest is -betrayed on the outside by a little heap of earth, by a tiny mound -formed of the superfluous soil which the mother, when closing up the -abode, has been unable to replace, part of the excavation having to be -left empty. Under this mound is a shaft which is rarely more than four -inches in depth, followed by a horizontal gallery, either straight or -winding, which ends in a spacious hall, large enough to contain a man’s -fist. This is the crypt in which the egg lies enveloped in food and -subjected to the incubation of a hot sun baking the ground only a few -inches above it; this is the roomy workshop in which the mother, -unfettered in her movements, has kneaded and shaped the future -nurseling’s food into a pear. - -This stercoraceous bread has its main axis lying in a horizontal -position. Its shape and size remind one exactly of those little -Midsummer’s Day pears which, by virtue of their bright colouring, their -flavour and their early ripening, are so popular with the children. -There is a slight variation in the bulk of the pears found. The largest -dimensions are 45 millimetres in length by 30 millimetres in width; -[19] the smallest are 35 millimetres by 28. [20] - -Without being as polished as stucco, the surface, which is absolutely -even, is carefully glazed with a thin layer of red earth. At first soft -as potter’s clay, the pyriform loaf soon dries and acquires a stout -crust which refuses to yield to the pressure of the fingers. Wood -itself is no harder. This rind is the defensive wrapper that isolates -the recluse from the world and allows him to consume his victuals in -profound peace. But, should the central mass become dried up, then the -danger is extremely serious. We shall have occasion to refer to the -unhappy lot of the grub condemned to a diet of too stale bread. - -What dough does the Scarab’s bakehouse use? Who are the purveyors? The -Horse and the Mule? By no means. Yet that was what I expected—and so -would anybody—after seeing the insect make such energetic raids, for -its own use, upon the overflowing store of an ordinary lump of dung. -That is where it habitually manufactures the rolling ball which it goes -and consumes in some underground retreat. - -While coarse bread, full of bits of hay, is good enough for the mother, -she becomes more particular where her children are concerned. She now -wants the very daintiest pastry, rich in nourishment and easily -digested; she wants the ovine manna: not that which the Sheep of a -costive habit scatters in trails of black olives, but that which, -elaborated in a less dry intestine, is fashioned into a single flat -cake. This is the material required, the dough exclusively used. It is -no longer the poor and stringy produce of the Horse, but an unctuous, -plastic, homogeneous thing, soaked through and through with nutritive -juices. Its plasticity and delicacy make it an admirable medium for an -artistic piece of work like the Scarab’s pear, while its alimentary -qualities suit the weak stomach of the new-born grub. There may not be -much of it, but the infant Beetle will find it sufficient for his -needs. - -This explains the smallness of these pears, a point which made me -suspicious of the origin of my treasure until I found the mother -present with the provisions. I was unable to see in those little pears -the bill of fare of a future Sacred Beetle, who is so great a glutton -and of so remarkable a size. - -It probably also explains my failure in the old days with my cages. In -my profound ignorance of the Sacred Beetle’s domestic life, I used to -supply her with what I could pick up here and there, droppings of Horse -or Mule; and the Beetle refused it for her children and declined to -build a nest. To-day, taught by my experience in the fields, I go to -the Sheep for my supplies and all is well in the cages. Does this mean -that the insect never employs for its breeding-pears materials derived -from the Horse, even if selected from the finest strata and carefully -cleansed from objectionable matter? If the best cannot be obtained, is -the middling refused? I prefer to be cautious and give no opinion. What -I can declare is that I inspected over a hundred burrows with a view to -writing this story, and that in every case, from first to last, the -larva’s provisions had been obtained from the Sheep. - -Where is the egg in that nutritive mass so novel in shape? One would be -inclined to place it in the centre of the fat, round paunch. This -central point is best protected against accidents from the outside, -best off in the matter of temperature. Besides, the nascent grub would -here find a deep layer of food on every side of it and would not be -liable to make mistakes in the first mouthfuls. Everything being of the -same kind all round it, there would be no necessity for it to pick and -choose; wherever it chanced to apply its prentice tooth, it could -continue without hesitation its first dainty repast. - -All this sounds so very rational that I allowed myself to be led away -by it. In the first pear that I examined, layer by layer, shaving off -slices with my penknife, I looked for the egg in the centre of the -paunch, feeling almost certain of finding it there. To my great -surprise, it was not there. Instead of being hollow, the centre of the -pear is full and consists of one continuous uniform alimentary mass. - -My deductions, which any observer in my place would certainly have -shared, seemed very reasonable; the Scarab, however, is of another way -of thinking. We have our logic, of which we are rather proud; the -dung-kneader has hers, which is better than ours in this instance. She -has her own foresight, takes her own precautions; and she places the -egg elsewhere. - -But where? Why, in the narrow part of the pear, in the neck, right at -the end! Let us cut this neck lengthwise, taking the necessary -precautions not to damage the contents. It is hollowed into a niche -with polished and shiny walls. This niche is the tabernacle of the -germ, the hatching-chamber. The egg, which is very large in proportion -to the size of the mother, is an elongated oval, about ten millimetres -in length with a diameter of five millimetres at the widest part. [21] -It is white and is separated on all sides from the walls of the chamber -by a slight empty space, the only contact being at the rear end of the -egg, which adheres to the top of the niche. Lying horizontally, in -conformity with the normal position of the pear, the whole of it, -excepting the point of attachment, thus rests upon an air-mattress, -warmest and most buoyant of beds. - -Now we know all about it. Let us next try to understand the Scarab’s -logic. Let us find out why she has to make that pear of hers, so -unusual a shape in insect structures; let us seek to explain the -suitability of the egg’s curious position. We are venturing on -dangerous ground when we enquire into the how and wherefore of things. -We easily lose our footing in that mysterious land where the moving -soil gives way beneath us, swallowing the foolhardy in the quicksands -of error. Must we abandon such excursions, because of the risk? Why -should we? - -What does our science, so sublime compared with the feebleness of our -resources, so contemptible in the face of the boundless stretches of -the unknown, what does it know of absolute reality? Nothing. The world -interests us only because of the ideas which we form of it. Remove the -idea and everything becomes a desert, chaos, nothingness. An -omnium-gatherum of facts is not knowledge, but at most a cold catalogue -which we must thaw and quicken at the fire of the mind; we must bring -to it thought and the light of reason; we must interpret. - -Let us adopt this course to explain the work of the Sacred Beetle. -Perhaps we shall end by attributing our own logic to the insect. After -all, it will be just as remarkable to see a wonderful agreement prevail -between that which reason dictates to us and that which instinct -dictates to the insect. - -A grave danger threatens the Sacred Beetle in his grub state: the -drying-up of the food. The crypt in which the larval life is spent has -a layer of earth, some four inches thick, for a ceiling. Of what avail -is this flimsy screen against the torrid heat that beats down upon the -soil, baking it like a brick to a far greater depth than that? At times -the temperature of the grub’s abode mounts towards boiling-point; when -I thrust my hand into it, I feel the hot air of a Turkish bath. - -The provisions, therefore, even though they have to last but three or -four weeks, are liable to dry up before that time and to become -uneatable. When, instead of the soft bread of its first meal, the -unhappy grub finds nothing to stay its stomach but a horrible crust, -hard as a pebble and tooth-proof, it is bound to perish of hunger. And -it does actually so perish. I have found numbers of these victims of -the August sun which, after eating plentifully of the fresh food and -digging themselves a cell in it, had succumbed, unable to continue -biting into provisions that had become too hard. There remained a thick -shell, a sort of closed oven, in which the poor thing lay baked and -shrivelled up. - -While the grub dies of hunger in a shell which has dried into stone, -the full-grown insect that has completed its transformations dies there -too, for it is incapable of bursting the prison and freeing itself. I -shall come back later to the question of the final emergence and will -say no more about it for the present. Let us confine our attention to -the troubles of the grub. - -The drying-up of the victuals is, I have said, fatal to it. This is -proved by the larvæ found baked in their oven; it is also proved, in a -more definite fashion, by the following experiment. In July, the period -of active nidification, I place in wooden or cardboard boxes a dozen -pears unearthed that morning from their native burrows. These boxes, -carefully closed, are put away in the dark, in my study, where the same -temperature prevails as outside. Well, in none of them is the infant -reared: sometimes the egg shrivels; sometimes the worm is hatched, but -very soon dies. On the other hand, in tin boxes or glass receptacles, -everything goes well: not one attempt at rearing fails. - -Whence do these differences arise? Simply from this: in the high -temperature of July, evaporation proceeds apace under the permeable -wooden or cardboard screen; the food-pear dries up; and the unfortunate -worm dies of hunger. In the impermeable tin boxes, in the -carefully-sealed glass receptacles, there is no evaporation; the -provisions retain their softness; and the grubs thrive as well as in -their native burrow. - -The insect employs two methods to ward off the danger of desiccation. -In the first place, it compresses the outer layer with all the strength -of its stout, flat fore-arms, turning it into a protective rind more -homogeneous and more compact than the central mass. If I break one of -these dried-up provision-boxes, the rind usually comes clean away, -leaving the centre part bare. The whole suggests the shell and kernel -of a nut. The pressure exercised by the mother when manipulating her -pear has affected the surface layer to a depth of a few millimetres, -and this has produced the rind; the influence of the pressure is not -felt lower down, and the result is the big central kernel. In the hot -summer months, the housewife puts her bread into a closed pan, to keep -it fresh. This is what the insect does, in its fashion: by dint of -compression, it covers the family bread with a pan. - -The Sacred Beetle does not stop there: she becomes a geometrician -capable of solving a delicate problem of minimum values. Other -conditions being equal, evaporation obviously takes place in proportion -to the extent of the evaporating surface. The alimentary mass must -therefore be given the smallest possible surface, in order to reduce -the waste of moisture as much as possible; at the same time, this -minimum surface must incorporate the maximum aggregate of nutritive -materials, so that the grub may find sufficient nourishment. Now what -is the form that encloses the greatest bulk within the smallest -superficial area? Geometry answers, the sphere. - -The Scarab, therefore, shapes the larva’s ration into a sphere (we will -leave the neck of the pear out of the question for the moment); and -this round form is not the result of blind mechanical conditions, -imposing an inevitable shape upon the worker; it is not the violent -effect of the rolling along the ground. We have already seen that, for -the purpose of easier and swifter transit, the insect kneads into a -perfect sphere the materials which it intends to consume at a distance, -without moving that sphere from the spot on which it rests; in short, -we have realized that the round form precedes the rolling. - -In the same way, it will be seen presently that the pear destined for -the grub is fashioned in the burrow. It undergoes no rolling-process, -it is not even moved. The Sacred Beetle gives it the requisite outline -exactly as a modelling artist might do, shaping his clay under the -pressure of his thumb. - -With the tools which it possesses, the insect could obtain other forms -of a less delicate curve than its pear-shaped piece of work. It could, -for instance, make a rough cylinder, the sausage customary among the -Geotrupes; or, simplifying the work to the utmost, it could leave the -lump without any definite form, just as it happened to find it. Things -would proceed all the faster and would leave more time for playing in -the sun. But no: the Sacred Beetle never chooses any shape but the -sphere, though it necessitates such scrupulous accuracy; she acts as -though she knew the laws of evaporation and geometry from beginning to -end. - -It remains for us to examine the neck of the pear. What can be its -object, its use? The reply forces itself upon us irresistibly. This -neck contains the egg, in the hatching-chamber. Now every germ, whether -of plant or animal, needs air, the primary stimulus of life. To admit -that vivifying combustible, the shell of a bird’s egg is riddled with -an endless number of pores. The pear of the Sacred Beetle may be -compared with the egg of the Hen. Its shell is the rind, hardened by -pressure, to avoid untimely desiccation; its nutritive mass, its meat, -its yolk is the soft ball sheltered under the rind; its air-chamber is -the terminal space, the cavity in the neck, where the air envelops the -germ on every side. Where would that germ be better off, for breathing, -than in its hatching-chamber projecting into the atmosphere and giving -free play to the passage of gases through its thin and easily permeable -wall? - -In the centre of the mass, on the other hand, aeration is not so easy. -The hardened rind does not possess pores like an egg-shell’s; and the -central kernel is formed of compact matter. The air enters it -nevertheless, for presently the grub will be able to live in it: the -grub, a robust organism which does not need the same tender flutter of -life as the sensitive germ. - -Where the adolescent larva thrives, the egg would die of suffocation. -Here is a proof of it. I take a small, wide-necked phial and fill it -with Sheep-dung, the fare required in this case. I push in a bit of -stick and obtain a shaft which shall represent the hatching-chamber. -Down this shaft I place an egg carefully moved from its cell. I close -the orifice and cover up everything with a thickly-heaped layer of the -same material. Here, in all excepting the shape, we have an artificial -reproduction of the Sacred Beetle’s pellet; only, in this instance, the -egg is in the centre of the mass, the place which over-hasty -considerations made us but now believe the most suitable. Well, the -point which we selected is fatal to life. The egg dies there. What has -it lacked? Apparently, proper aeration. - -Plenteously enveloped by the clammy mass, which is a bad conductor of -heat, it is also deprived of the mild temperature needed for its -hatching. In addition to air, every germ requires heat. In order to be -as near as possible to the incubator, the germ in the bird’s egg is on -the surface of the yolk and, thanks to its extreme mobility, always -comes to the top, no matter what the position of the egg may be. Thus -the most is made of the maternal heating-apparatus seated upon the -brood. - -In the insect’s case, the incubator is the earth, which is warmed by -the sun. Its germ likewise comes close to the heating-apparatus; it -goes as near as it can to the universal incubator, in search of its -spark of life; instead of remaining sunk in the middle of the inert -mass, it takes up its position at the top of a projecting nipple, -lapped on all sides by the warm emanations of the soil. - -These conditions, air and warmth, are so fundamental that no -Dung-beetle neglects them. The piles of food hoarded vary in form, as -we shall have an opportunity of seeing: in addition to the pear, such -shapes as the cylinder, the ovoid, the pill and the thimble are -adopted, according to the genus of the manipulator; but, amid this -diversity of outline, one primary feature remains unchanged, and that -is the placing of the egg in a hatching-chamber close to the surface -which allows free access to air and heat. And the most gifted in this -delicate art of knowing just where to place the egg is the Sacred -Beetle with her pear. - -I was saying just now that this foremost of dung-kneaders behaved with -a logic that rivals our own. By this time, my statement has been -completely established. Here is something better still. Let us submit -the following problem to our leading scientific lights: a germ is -accompanied by a mass of victuals liable soon to be rendered useless by -desiccation. How should the alimentary mass be shaped? Where should the -egg be laid so as to be easily influenced by air and heat? - -The first question of the problem has already been answered. Knowing -that evaporation varies in proportion to the extent of the evaporating -surface, science declares that the victuals shall be arranged in the -form of a ball, because the spherical shape is that which encloses the -greatest amount of material within the smallest surface. As for the -egg, since it requires a protecting sheath to keep it from any harmful -contact, it shall be contained within a thin, cylindrical case; and -this case shall be fixed upon the sphere. - -Thus the requisite conditions are fulfilled: the provisions, packed -into a ball, keep fresh; the egg, protected by its slender, cylindrical -sheath, receives the influence of warmth and air without impediment. -The strictly needful has been obtained; but it is very ugly. Utility -has paid no attention to beauty. - -An artist corrects the crude work of reason. He replaces the cylinder -by a semi-ellipsoid, so much prettier in form; he joins this ellipsoid -to the sphere by means of a graceful curved surface; and the whole -becomes the pear, the necked gourd. It is now a work of art, a thing of -beauty. - -The Sacred Beetle does exactly what æsthetic considerations dictate to -ourselves. Can she, too, have a sense of beauty? Is she able to -appreciate the elegance of her pear? True, she does not see it: she -manipulates it in profound darkness. But she touches it. A poor touch -hers, roughly clad in horn, yet not insensible, after all, to delicate -contours. - -It occurred to me to put children’s intelligence to the test with this -problem in æsthetics suggested by the Sacred Beetle’s work. I wanted -very immature minds, hardly opened, still slumbering in the misty -clouds of early childhood, in short, approximating as nearly as -possible to the vague intellect of the insect, if any such -approximation is permissible. At the same time I wanted them to be -clear-headed enough to understand me. I selected some untutored -youngsters, of whom the oldest was six. - -I submitted to this tribunal the work of the Sacred Beetle and a -geometrical production of my own fingers, representing in the same -dimensions the sphere surmounted by a short cylinder. Taking each of -them aside, as though for confession, lest the opinion of one should -influence the opinion of another, I sprang my two toys upon them and -asked them which they thought the prettier. There were five of them; -and they all voted for the Sacred Beetle’s pear. - -I was struck by this unanimity. The rough little peasant-lad, who has -scarcely yet learnt how to blow his nose, has already a certain sense -of elegance of form. He can distinguish between the beautiful and the -ugly. Can this be also true of the Sacred Beetle? No one who knew what -he was talking about would venture to say yes; no one either would -venture to say no. It is a question that cannot be answered, since we -cannot consult the one and only judge in this case. After all, the -solution might very well be exceedingly simple. What does the flower -know of its glorious corolla? What does the snowflake know of its -exquisite hexagonal stars? Like the flower and the snowflake, the -Sacred Beetle might well be ignorant of the beautiful, though it be her -work. - -There is beauty everywhere, on the express condition that there be an -eye capable of recognizing it. Is this eye of the mind, this eye which -appraises correctness of form, to some extent an attribute of the dumb -creation? If the Toad’s ideal of beauty is unquestionably the She-toad, -outside the irresistible attraction of the sexes is there really such a -thing as beauty to an animal? Considered generally, what is beauty, -actually? Beauty is order. What is order? Harmony in the whole design. -What is harmony? Harmony is.... But enough. Answers would follow upon -questions without ever touching the real principle of it all, the -immovable foundation. What a lot of philosophizing over a lump of dung! -It is high time to change the subject. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE SACRED BEETLE: THE MODELLING - - -Here we are on solid ground, in the domain of facts, of things that can -be seen and recorded. How does the Sacred Beetle obtain the maternal -pear? To begin with, it is certain that this shape is not achieved by -the process of transport, for it is not at all what one would get from -haphazard rolling in all directions. The belly of the gourd might be -made in that way; but the neck, the elliptical nipple hollowed into a -hatching-chamber: that delicate work could never result from a series -of violent, irregular bumps. A goldsmith does not hammer out a jewel on -a blacksmith’s anvil! Together with other sound reasons already -adduced, the pear-shaped outline delivers us, I hope, once and for all, -from the antiquated belief that the egg has its home inside a -roughly-jolted sphere. - -To produce his masterpiece, the sculptor retires to his den. Even so -the Sacred Beetle. She shuts herself in her crypt, with the materials -which she has brought down there, in order to concentrate upon her -modelling. The block out of which she is to shape her pear may be -obtained in two ways. Sometimes the Beetle manages to secure from the -heap, by the method familiar to us, a fine mass of material which is -kneaded into a ball on the spot and which is a perfect sphere before it -is set in motion. Were it only a question of provisions intended for -her own meal, she would never act otherwise. - -When the ball is deemed big enough, if the place does not suit her -wherein to dig the burrow, she sets out with her rolling burden, going -at random till she lights upon a favourable spot. On the way, the ball, -without becoming any rounder than it was to start with, hardens a -little on the surface and is encrusted with earth and tiny grains of -sand. This earthy rind, picked up on the road, is an authentic sign of -a more or less long journey. The detail is not without importance; we -shall find it useful presently. - -At other times, the Beetle may hit upon a suitable site for her burrow -close to the heap which has provided her block. The soil may be free -from pebbles and easy to dig. In that case there is no need of any -travelling, and consequently no need to make a ball. The soft droppings -of the Sheep are gathered and stored as found, entering the workshop as -a shapeless mass, either in one lump or, if need be, in several. - -This rarely happens under natural conditions, because of the roughness -of the ground, which is full of stones and flints. Sites practicable -for easy digging are few and far between; and the insect has to roam -about, with its burden, to find them. In my cages, on the other hand, -where the layer of earth has been passed through a sieve, it is the -usual case. Here the soil is easy to dig at any point; and so the -mother, who is anxious to get her eggs laid, merely lowers the nearest -lump underground, without waiting to give it any definite form. - -Whether this storing without any preliminary modelling or carting take -place in the fields or in my cages, the ultimate result is most -striking. One day, I see a shapeless lump disappear into the crypt. -Next day, or the day after, I visit the workshop and find the artist in -front of her work. The original formless mass, the armfuls of scrapings -carried down, have become a pear perfect in outline and exquisitely -finished. - -The artistic object bears the marks of its method of manufacture. The -part that rests upon the bottom of the cavity is crusted over with -earthy particles; all the rest is of a glossy polish. Owing to its -weight, owing also to the pressure exercised when the Beetle -manipulated it, the pear, while still quite soft, became soiled with -grains of earth on the side that touched the floor of the workshop; on -the remainder, which is the larger part, it has retained the delicate -finish which the insect was able to give it. - -The inferences to be drawn from these carefully noted details are -obvious: the pear is no turner’s work; it has not been obtained by any -sort of rolling on the ground of the spacious studio, for in that case -it would have been soiled with earth all over. Besides, its projecting -neck eliminates this method of fabrication. And its unblemished upper -surface is eloquent testimony that it has not even been turned from one -side to the other. The Beetle, therefore, has moulded it where it lies, -without turning or shifting it at all; she has modelled it with little -taps of her broad paddles, just as we saw her model her ball in the -daylight. - -Let us now return to what usually happens in the free state. The -materials then come from a distance and are carried into the burrow in -the form of a ball covered with soil on every part of its surface. What -will the insect do with this sphere which contains the paunch of the -future pear ready-made? It would be easy to answer this if I concerned -myself only with results, without troubling how those results were -obtained. It would be enough for me, as I have often done, to capture -the mother in her burrow with her ball and take the whole lot home, to -my insect laboratory, in order to keep a close watch on events. - -I fill a large glass jar with earth, sifted, moistened and heaped to -the desired depth. I place the mother and the beloved pill which she is -clasping on the surface of this artificial soil. I stow away the -apparatus in a dim corner and wait. My patience is not tried very long. -Urged by the insistent ovaries, the Beetle resumes her interrupted -work. - -In certain cases, I see her, still on the surface, destroying her ball, -ripping it up, cutting it to pieces, shredding it. This is not in the -least the act of one in despair who, finding herself a captive, breaks -the precious object in her madness. It is based on sound hygienics. A -scrupulous inspection of the morsel which she has gathered in haste, -among lawless competitors, is often necessary, for supervision is not -always easy on the harvest-field itself, in the midst of thieves and -robbers. The ball may be harbouring a collection of little Onthophagi -and Aphodii who passed unnoticed in the heat of acquisition. - -These involuntary intruders, finding themselves very well-off in the -heart of the mass, would make good use of the future pear, much to the -detriment of the legitimate consumer. The ball must be purged of this -hungry brood. The mother, therefore, pulls it to pieces and scrutinizes -the fragments closely. Then the sorted bits are carefully put together -again and the ball remade, this time without any earthy rind. It is -dragged underground and becomes an immaculate pear, always excepting -the surface touching the soil. - -Oftener still, the ball is thrust by the mother into the soil in the -jar just as I took it from the burrow, still with the rough crust which -it has acquired in its cross-country rolling from the place where it -was obtained to the place where the insect intends to use it. In that -event, I find it at the bottom of my jar transformed into a pear, but -still rough and encrusted with earth and sand over the whole of its -surface, thus proving that the pear-shaped outline has not demanded a -general recasting of the mass, inside as well as out, but has been -obtained by simple pressure and by drawing out the neck. - -This is how, in the vast majority of cases, things happen under normal -conditions. Almost all the pears that I dig up in the fields have rinds -and are unpolished, some more, others less. If we put on one side the -inevitable incrustations due to the carting-process, these blemishes -would seem to point to a prolonged rolling in the interior of the -subterranean manor. The few which I find perfectly smooth, especially -those wonderfully neat specimens furnished by my cages, dispel this -mistake entirely. They show us that, when the materials are collected -near the burrow and stored away unshaped, the pear is modelled wholly -without rolling; they prove to us that, in other cases, the lines of -earth and grit on the outside of the ball are not a sign of its having -been rolled to and fro in the workshop, but are simply the marks of a -fairly long journey on the surface of the ground. - -To be present at the construction of the pear is no easy matter: the -mystery-loving artist obstinately refuses to do any work as soon as the -light reaches her. She needs absolute darkness for her modelling; and I -need light if I would see her at her task. It is impossible to unite -the two conditions. Let us try, nevertheless; let us catch some -glimpses of the truth whose fulness eludes our vision. - -The arrangements made are as follows: I once more take the big jar. I -cover the bottom with a layer of earth two or three inches deep. To -obtain the transparent workshop necessary for my observations, I fix a -tripod on the earthy layer and, on this support, about four inches in -height, I place a round piece of deal of the same diameter as the jar. -The glass-walled chamber thus marked out will represent the roomy crypt -in which the insect works. A piece is scolloped out of the edge of the -deal block, large enough to permit of the passage of the Beetle and her -ball. Lastly, above this screen, I heap a layer of earth as deep as the -jar allows. - -During the operation, a portion of the upper earth falls through the -opening and slips down to the lower space in a wide inclined plane. -This was a circumstance which I had foreseen and which was -indispensable to my plan. By means of this slope, the artist, when she -has found the communicating trap-door, will make for the transparent -cell which I have arranged for her. She will make for it, of course, -only provided that she be in perfect darkness. I therefore make a -cardboard cylinder, closed at the top, and place it over the glass jar. -Left standing where it is, the opaque sheath will provide the dusk -which the insect wants; suddenly raised, it will give the light which I -want. - -Things being thus arranged, I go in quest of a mother who has just -withdrawn into solitude with her ball. A morning’s search is enough to -provide me with what I need. I place the mother and her ball on the -surface of the upper layer of earth; I cap the apparatus with its -cardboard sheath; and I wait. I say to myself that the Beetle is too -persevering to give up work until her egg is housed and that she will -therefore dig herself a new burrow, dragging her ball with her as she -goes; she will pass through the upper layer of earth, which is not -sufficiently thick; she will come upon the deal board, an obstacle -similar to the broken stones that often bar her passage in the course -of her normal excavations; she will investigate the cause of the -impediment and, finding the opening, will descend through this -trap-door to the lower compartment, which, being free and roomy, will -represent to the insect the crypt whence I have just removed it. But -all this takes time; and I must wait for the morrow to satisfy my -impatient curiosity. - -The hour has come: let us go and see. The study-door was left open -yesterday: the mere sound of the door-handle might disturb and stop my -distrustful worker. By way of greater precaution, before entering I put -on noiseless slippers. And now, whoosh! The cylinder is removed. -Capital! My forecast was correct. - -The Beetle occupies the glazed studio. I surprise her at work, with her -broad foot laid on the rough model of the pear. But, startled by the -sudden light, she remains motionless, as though petrified. This lasts a -few seconds. Then she turns her back upon me and awkwardly ascends the -inclined plane, to reach the dim heights of her gallery. I give a -glance at the work, take note of its shape and its position, and once -more restore darkness with the cardboard sheath. Let us not prolong our -intrusion, if we would renew the test. - -My sudden, short visit gives us some idea of the mysterious work. The -ball, which at first was absolutely spherical, is now depressed at the -top into a sort of shallow crater with a swollen rim. The thing reminds -me, on a very much smaller scale, of certain prehistoric pots, with a -round belly, a thick-lipped mouth and a narrow groove round the neck. -This rough model of the future pear tells us of the insect’s method, a -method identical with that of pleistocene man ignorant of the potter’s -wheel. - -The plastic ball, ringed at one end, has had a groove made in it, the -starting-point of the neck of the pear; it has also been drawn out -slightly into a rather blunt projection. In the centre of this -projection pressure has been applied. The first stage of the work -therefore consists merely in placing a ring round the ball and applying -pressure. - -Towards evening I pay another sudden visit, in complete silence. The -insect has recovered from its excitement of the morning and gone down -again to its workshop. Troubled by the flood of light, baffled by the -strange events to which my artifices give rise, it at once makes off -and takes refuge in the upper story. The poor mother, persecuted by -these illuminations, moves away into the darkest recesses; but she goes -regretfully, with hesitating steps. - -The work has progressed. The crater has become deeper; its thick lips -have disappeared, are thinner, closer together, drawn out into the neck -of a pear. The object, however, has not changed its place. Its position -and direction are exactly as I noted them before. The side that rested -on the ground is still at the bottom, at the same point; the side that -faced upwards is still at the top; the crater that lay on my right has -been replaced by the neck, still on my right. All of which gives -conclusive proof of my earlier statements: there is no rolling, but -only pressure, which kneads and shapes. - -The next day, a third visit. The pear is finished. Its neck, yesterday -a yawning sack, is now closed. The egg, therefore, is laid; the work is -completed and demands only the finishing touches of general polishing, -touches upon which the mother, so intent on geometrical perfection, was -doubtless engaged at the time when I disturbed her. - -The most delicate part of the business escapes my observation. Roughly -speaking, I can see plainly how the egg’s hatching-chamber is obtained: -the thick pad surrounding the original crater is thinned and flattened -under the pressure of the feet and is lengthened into a sack the mouth -of which gradually narrows. Up to this point the work provides its own -explanation. But, when we think of the insect’s rigid tools, its broad, -toothed fore-arms, whose spasmodic movements remind us of the stiff -gestures of an automaton, we are left without any explanation of the -exquisite perfection of the cell which is to be the hatching-chamber of -the egg. - -With this crude equipment, excellently adapted to pickaxe-work though -it be, how does the Scarab obtain the natal dwelling, the oval nest so -daintily polished and glazed within? Does her foot, a regular saw, -fitted with enormous teeth, begin to rival the artist’s brush in -delicacy from the moment when it is inserted through the narrow orifice -of the sack? Why not? I have said elsewhere, and this is the moment to -say it again: the tool does not make the workman. The insect exercises -its own particular talents with any kind of tool with which it is -supplied. It can saw with a plane or plane with a saw, like the model -workman of whom Franklin tells us. The same strong-toothed rake which -the Sacred Beetle uses to open up the earth she also employs as a -trowel and brush wherewith to glaze the stucco of the chamber in which -the grub will be born. - -In conclusion, one more detail concerning this hatching-chamber. At the -extreme end of the neck of the pear, one point is always pretty clearly -distinguished: it bristles with stringy fibres, while the rest of the -neck is carefully polished. This is the plug with which the mother has -closed the narrow opening after carefully depositing the egg; and this -plug, as its hairy structure shows, has not been subjected to the -pressure exerted over all the rest of the mass, working into it any -projecting bits, however small, till not the slightest sign of -roughness remains. - -Why does the extreme end of the pear receive this special treatment, a -most curious exception, when nothing else has eluded the heavy blows of -the insect’s legs? The reason is that the hind-end of the egg rests -against this plug, which, were it pressed down and driven in, would -transmit the pressure to the germ and imperil its safety. So the -mother, aware of the risk, stops the hole without ramming down the -stopper: the air in the hatching-chamber is thus more easily renewed; -and the egg escapes the dangerous activity of the powerful rammer. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE SACRED BEETLE: THE LARVA - - -Under the thin ceiling of the burrow, the Sacred Beetle’s egg undergoes -the varying influences of the sun, the supreme incubator. Consequently -there is not, nor can there be, any fixed date for the quickening of -the germ. In very hot, sunny weather, I have obtained a grub five or -six days after the egg was laid; with a more moderate temperature, I -have had to wait until the twelfth day. June and July are the -hatching-months. - -As soon as the new-born grub has flung aside its swaddling clothes, it -forthwith bites into the walls of its chamber. If starts eating its -house, not anyhow, but with unerring wisdom. If it nibbled at the thin -side of its cell—and there is nothing to dissuade it, for here as -elsewhere the materials are of excellent quality—if its mandibles -scraped the extreme end of the nipple, the weakest point, it would make -a breach in the protecting wall before it had sufficient putty to -repair that breach. This putty is the material which we shall see the -larva using later, when accidents of that kind occur from external -causes. - -If it ate into its heap of provisions at random, it would expose itself -to serious risks from the outside; at the very least it would be liable -to slip out of its cradle and tumble to the ground through the open -window. Once it falls out of its cell, there is no hope for the little -grub. It will not know how to make its way back to the larder; and, if -it does find its heap of provisions again, it will be repelled by the -hard rind with its bits of grit and sand. In its wisdom, greater than -any possessed by the young of the higher animals, which are always -watched over by a mother, the new-born larva, still sleek and shiny -with the slime of the egg, thoroughly knows the danger and avoids it by -masterly tactics. - -Though all the food around it is alike and all is to its taste, -nevertheless it tackles exclusively the floor of its cell, a floor -continued by the bulky sphere in which bites will be permissible in -every direction, as the consumer pleases. - -Can any one explain why this particular spot is chosen as the -starting-point, when there is nothing to distinguish it, from the point -of view of food? Could the tiny creature be warned of the proximity of -the outer air by the effect which a thin wall has on its sensitive -skin? If so, how is this effect produced? Besides, what does a grub, -that moment born, know of outside dangers? I am quite in the dark. - -Or rather I begin to see daylight. I recognize once again, under -another aspect, what was taught me some years ago by the Scolia-wasps -[22] and the Sphex-wasps, [23] those scientific eaters, those skilful -anatomists, who can discriminate so well between the lawful and the -unlawful and are consequently able to devour their prey without killing -it until the end of the meal. The Sacred Beetle has his own complicated -art of eating. Though he need not trouble about the preservation of the -victuals, which are not liable to go bad, he has nevertheless to guard -against ill-timed mouthfuls, which would rob him of his shelter. Of -these dangerous mouthfuls, the earliest are the most to be feared, -because of the creature’s weakness and the thinness of the wall. As its -protection, therefore, the grub has, in its own way, the primal -inspiration without which none would be able to live; it obeys the -imperious voice of instinct, which says: - -‘There shalt thou bite and no elsewhere.’ - -And, respecting all the rest, however tempting, it bites at the -prescribed spot; it eats into the pear at the bottom of the neck. In a -few days it has worked its way deep down into the mass, where it waxes -big and fat, transforming the filthy material into a plump larva -gleaming with health, ivory-white with slate-coloured reflections and -without a speck of dirt upon it. The matter which has disappeared, or -rather which has been remelted in life’s crucible, leaves empty a round -cell into which the grub fits itself, curving its back under the -spherical dome and bending double. - -The time has come for a sight stranger than any yet displayed to me by -the industrial prowess of an insect. Anxious to observe the grub in the -intimacy of its home, I open in the belly of the pear a little -peep-hole half a centimetre [24] square. The head of the recluse at -once appears in the opening, to enquire what is happening. The breach -is perceived. The head disappears. I can just see the white back -turning about in the narrow cabin; and, then and there, the window -which I have made is closed with a soft, brown paste, which soon -hardens. - -The inside of the cabin, said I to myself, is no doubt a semifluid -porridge. Turning round, as is shown by the sudden slide of its back, -the grub has collected a handful of this material and, completing the -circuit, has stuck its load, by way of mortar, in the breach which it -considered dangerous. I remove the plug. The grub acts as before, puts -its head at the window, withdraws it, spins round as easily as a nut in -its shell and forthwith produces a second plug as ample as the first. -Forewarned of what was coming, this time I saw more clearly. - -What a mistake I had made! However, I am not so much startled as I -might be: in the art of defence, animals often employ means which our -imagination would not dare to contemplate. It is not the grub’s head -that is presented at the breach, after the preliminary twisting: it is -the other extremity. It does not bring a lump of its alimentary dough, -gathered by scraping the walls: it excretes upon the aperture to be -closed, which is a much more economical proceeding. Sparingly measured -out, the rations must not be wasted: there is just enough to live upon. -Besides, the cement is of better quality; it soon sets. Lastly, the -urgent repairs are more quickly effected if the intestines lend their -kindly aid. - -They do, in point of fact, and to an astonishing degree. Five, six -times in succession and oftener, I remove the plug; and, time after -time, the mortar ejects a copious discharge from its apparently -inexhaustible reservoir, which is ever at the mason’s service, without -an interval for rest. The grub is already beginning to resemble the -Sacred Beetle, whose stercoraceous prowess we know: it is a past master -in the art of dunging. It possesses above any other animal in the world -an intestinal docility which anatomy presently will undertake to -explain to us in part. - -The plasterer and the mason have their trowels. In the same way, the -grub, that zealous repairer of breaches made in its home, has a trowel -of its own. The last segment is lopped off slantwise and carries on its -dorsal surface a sort of inclined plane, a broad disk surrounded by a -fleshy pad. In the middle of the disk is a slit, forming the -cementing-aperture. There you have your trowel, a most respectable one, -flattened out and supplied with a rim to prevent the compressed matter -from flowing away uselessly. - -As soon as the mass of plastic matter has been emitted, the levelling- -and compressing-instrument sets to work to introduce the cement well -into the irregularities of the breach, to push it right through the -thickness of the ruined portion, to give it consistency and smooth it. -After this trowel-work, the grub turns round: it comes and finishes the -job with its wide forehead and improves it with the tip of its -mandibles. Wait a quarter of an hour; and the repaired portion will be -as firm as the rest of the shell, so quickly does the cement set. -Outside, the repairs are betrayed by the irregular projections where -the stuff has been forced out, the part which the trowel could not -reach; but, inside, there is no trace of the breakage: the usual polish -has been restored at the damaged spot. A plasterer stopping a hole in -one of our walls could produce no better piece of work. - -Nor do the grub’s talents end here. With its cement it becomes the -mender of pots and pans. Let me explain. I have compared the outside of -the pear, which, when pressed and dried, becomes a stout shell, with a -jar containing fresh food. In the course of my excavations, sometimes -made on difficult soil, I have happened occasionally to break this jar -with an ill-directed blow of my trowel. I have collected the potsherds, -pieced them together, after restoring the grub to its place, and kept -the whole thing united by wrapping it in a scrap of newspaper. - -On reaching home, I have found the pear put out of shape, no doubt, and -seamed with scars, but just as solid as ever. During the walk, the grub -had restored its ruined dwelling to condition. Cement injected into the -cracks joined the pieces; inside, a thick plastering strengthened the -inner wall, so much so that the repaired shell was quite as good as the -untouched shell, except for the irregularity of the outside. In its -artistically-mended stronghold the grub found the peace essential to -its existence. - -The time has come to ask ourselves the reason for this plasterer’s -craft. Destined to live in complete darkness, does the larva stop the -cracks made in its house in order to avoid the unwelcome intrusion of -the light? But it is blind. There is no trace of an organ of sight on -its yellowish headpiece. The absence of eyes, however, does not -authorize us to deny the influence of the light, an influence which -perhaps is vaguely resented by the grub’s delicate skin. Proofs are -required. Here they are. - -I manage to make my breach almost in the dark. The little light that -remains is just sufficient to guide my house-breaking-implement. When -the opening is made, I at once lower the shell into a dark box. A few -minutes later, the hole is stopped. Despite the darkness in which it -found itself, the grub has thought fit to seal up its cell. - -In small jars packed full of provisions, I bring up larvæ taken from -their native pear. A pit is dug in the mass of foodstuffs, ending at -the bottom in a hemisphere. This cavity, representing about the half of -the pear, will be the artificial cell given in exchange for the natural -one. I put the grubs on which I am experimenting into separate cells. -The change of residence produces no appreciable anxiety. Finding the -food of my selecting very much to their taste, they bite into the walls -with their customary appetite. Exile in no way perturbs those stoical -stomachs; and my attempts at breeding are pursued unchecked. - -A remarkable thing now happens. All my transplanted ones work little by -little to complete the round nest of which my pit represented only the -lower half. I have provided the flooring. They propose to add a -ceiling, a dome, and thus to shut themselves up in a spherical -enclosure. The materials are the putty supplied by the intestines; the -building-tool is the trowel, the inclined plane of the final segment. -Soft bricks are laid on the margin of the well. When these have set, -they serve as a support for a second row, sloping slightly inwards. -Other rows follow, marking the curve of the general structure more and -more distinctly. Also, from time to time, a wriggle of the hinder part -assists in determining the spherical conformation. In this way, without -any supporting scaffold, without the cradle indispensable to our -architects in building an arched roof, a commanding dome is obtained, -built upon space and completing the sphere which I began. - -Some of them shorten the work. The glass wall of the little jar -occasionally comes within range. Its smooth surface suits the taste of -these fastidious polishers; its curve, to a certain extent, coincides -with that of their plan. They make use of it, doubtless not from -economy of labour and time, but because, to their mind, the smooth -round wall is a thing of their own making. In this way there is -reserved, on the sides of the cupola, a large glazed window which -answers my purpose admirably. - -Well, the grubs which, all day long and for weeks on end, receive the -bright light of my study through this window of mine keep as quiet as -the others, eating and digesting, and never trouble to shut out any -unwelcome rays with a blind made of their putty. We may take it -therefore that, when the larva so eagerly closes the breach which I -have made in its chamber, its object is not to protect itself from the -light. - -Does it fear draughts then, when it scrupulously fills up the least -cranny through which the air might enter? This again is not the -solution. The temperature is the same in my room and in the grub’s; -besides, when I perpetrate my burglaries, the atmosphere in my study is -absolutely still. I do not examine the prisoner in a gale, but in the -calm of my workroom, in the even profounder calm of a glass jar. - -There can be no question of a cold breeze, which would be painful to a -very sensitive skin; and nevertheless the air is the enemy to be -avoided at all costs. If it flowed in at all plentifully through a -breach, with the dryness which the July heat imparts to it, the -provisions would be dried up. Faced with an uneatable biscuit, the grub -would become languid and anæmic and would soon perish of hunger. The -mother, to the best of her abilities, has guarded her offspring against -death from starvation by making her pear round and giving it a stout -rind; but, for all that, her children are not released from every -obligation to watch their rations. If they want bread that keeps soft -and fresh to the last, they must in their turn see to it that the -provision-jar is properly closed. Crevices may appear, fraught with -grave danger. It is important to stop them up without delay. This, if I -be not utterly at fault, is the reason why the grub is a plasterer -armed with a trowel and provided with a workshop that can always -furnish plenty of putty. The pot-mender repairs his cracked jar in -order to keep his bread nice and soft. - -A serious objection suggests itself. The slits, the breaches, the -vent-holes which I see so zealously cemented are the work of my -instruments: tweezers, penknife, dissecting-needles. It cannot be -maintained that the grub is endowed with its strange talent to protect -itself against the troubles brought upon it by human curiosity. What -has it to fear from man, in its life underground? Nothing, or next to -nothing. Since the Sacred Beetle started rolling his ball under the -broad canopy of the sky, I am probably the first to worry his family in -order to make them talk to me and instruct me. Others will come after -me perhaps; but they will be very few! No, man’s destructive -interference is not worth the pains of providing one’s self with a -trowel and cement. Then why this art of stopping crevices? - -Wait. In its apparently peaceful home, in its round shell which seems -to give it such perfect security, the grub nevertheless has its -troubles. Which of us has not, from the greatest to the smallest? They -begin at birth. Though I have only touched the fringe of the matter, I -am already aware of three or four sorts of grievous accidents to which -the Sacred Beetle’s larva is liable. Plants, animals, blind physical -forces, all work its ruin by destroying its larder. - -Competition is rife around the cake served up by the Sheep. When the -mother Scarab arrives to take her share and manufacture her pill, the -bit is often at the mercy of fellow-banqueters of whom the smallest are -the most to be dreaded. There are especially little Onthophagi, earnest -workers crouching under the shelter of the cake. Some prefer to plunge -into the richest part and bury themselves ecstatically in its luscious -depths. One of these is Schreber’s Onthophagus, who is a shiny -ebon-black, with four red spots on his wing-cases. Another is the -smallest of our Aphodii (Aphodius pusillus, Herbst), who confides her -eggs, here and there, to the thick part of the cake. In her hurry, the -mother Scarab does not examine her harvest very carefully. While some -of the Onthophagi are removed, others, buried in the centre of the -mass, escape notice. Besides, the Aphodius’ eggs are so small that they -elude her vigilance. In this way a contaminated lump of paste is taken -into the burrow and moulded. - -The pears in our gardens suffer from vermin which disfigure them with -scars. The Sacred Beetle’s pears suffer even worse ravages. The -Onthophagus shut in by accident ferrets about and pulls them to pieces. -When, filled to repletion, the glutton wishes to make his exit, he -pierces them with circular holes large enough to admit a lead-pencil. -The evil is worse still with the Aphodius, whose family hatch, develop -and undergo their transformation in the very heart of the provisions. -My notes contain descriptions of pears perforated in every direction, -riddled with a multitude of holes that serve for the escape of the tiny -dung-worker, a parasite in spite of himself. - -With table-fellows such as these, who bore ventilating-shafts in the -provisions, the Sacred Beetle’s grub dies if the miners be numerous. -Its trowel and mortar cannot cope with so great a task. They can cope -with it if the damage be slight and the intruders few. At once stopping -up every passage that opens around it, the grub holds its own against -the invader; it disgruntles him and drives him away. The pear is saved -and preserved from internal desiccation. - -Various Cryptogamia have a finger in the pie. They invade the fertile -soil of the pill, make it rise in scales, split it with fissures by -implanting their pustules. In its shell cracked by this vegetation, the -grub would die were it not for the safeguard of its mortar, which puts -an end to these desiccating vent-holes. - -It puts an end to them in a third case, the most frequent of all. -Without the intervention of any ravager, whether animal or plant, the -pear pretty often peels of its own accord, swells and tears. Is this -due to a reaction in the outer layer, which was too tightly pressed by -the mother when modelling? Is it due to an attempt at fermentation? Or -is it not rather the result of a contraction similar to that of clay, -which splits in drying? All three causes might very well play their -part. - -But, without saying anything positive on this point, I will draw -attention to certain deep fissures which seem to threaten the soft -bread with desiccation, inadequately protected as it is by the cracked -jar. Have no fear that these spontaneous breaches will do any harm: the -larva will soon put them right. In the distribution of gifts, it was -not for nothing that the trowel and putty were awarded to the Sacred -Beetle’s grub. - -We will now give a brief description of the larva, without stopping to -enumerate the articulations of the palpi and antennæ, which are -wearisome details of no immediate interest. It is a fat grub and has a -fine, white skin, with pale slate-coloured reflections proceeding from -the digestive organs, which are visible when you hold the creature to -the light. Bent into a broken arch or hook, it is not unlike the grub -of the Cockchafer, but has a much more ungainly figure, for, on its -back, at the sudden bend of the hook, the third, fourth and fifth -segments of the abdomen swell into an enormous hump, a tumour, a bag so -prominent that the skin seems on the point of bursting under the -pressure of the contents. This is the animal’s most striking feature: -the fact that it carries a knapsack. - -The head is small, in proportion to the grub’s size, is slightly -convex, bright-red and studded with a few pale bristles. The legs are -fairly long and sturdy, ending in a pointed tarsus. The grub does not -use them as a means of progression. When taken from its shell and -placed upon the table, it struggles in clumsy contortions without -succeeding in shifting its position; and the helpless creature betrays -its anxiety by repeated discharges of its mortar. - -Let us also mention the terminal trowel, that last segment lopped into -a slanting disk and rimmed with a fleshy pad. In the centre of this -inclined plane is the open stercoraceous slit, which thus, by a very -unusual inversion, occupies the upper surface. A huge hump and a -trowel: that gives you the insect in two words. - -In his Histoire naturelle des coléoptères de France, Mulsant describes -the larva of the Sacred Beetle. He tells us with meticulous detail the -number and shape of the joints of the palpi and antennæ; he sees the -hypopygium [25] and its pointed bristles; he sees a multitude of things -in the domain of the microscope; and he does not see the monstrous -knapsack that takes up almost half the insect, nor does he see the -strange configuration of the last segment. There is not a doubt in my -mind that the writer of this minute description has made a mistake: the -larva of which he speaks is nothing like that of the Sacred Beetle. - -We must not finish the history of the grub without saying a few words -about its internal structure. Anatomy will show us the works wherein -the cement employed in so eccentric a manner is manufactured. The -stomach or chylific ventricle is a long, thick cylinder, starting from -the creature’s neck after a very short œsophagus. It measures about -three times the insect’s length. In its last quarter, it carries a -voluminous lateral pocket distended by the food. This is a subsidiary -stomach in which the supplies are stored so as to yield their nutritive -principles more thoroughly. The chylific ventricle is much too long to -lie straight and twists round in front of its appendix, in the form of -a large loop occupying the dorsal surface. It is to contain this loop -and the side-pocket that the back swells into a hump. The grub’s -knapsack is, therefore, a second paunch, an annexe, as it were, of the -stomach, which is by itself incapable of holding the voluminous -digestive apparatus. Four very fine, very long tubular glands, very -much entangled, four Malpighian vessels mark the limits of the chylific -ventricle. - -Next comes the intestine, which is narrow and cylindrical and rises in -front. The intestine is followed by the rectum, which pushes backwards. -This last, which is exceptionally large and furnished with stout walls, -is wrinkled across, bloated and distended with its contents. There you -have the roomy warehouse in which the digestive refuse accumulates; -there you have the mighty ejaculator, ever ready to provide cement. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE SACRED BEETLE: THE NYMPH; THE RELEASE - - -The larva increases in bulk as it eats the walls of its house from the -inside. Little by little, the belly of the pear is scooped out into a -cell whose capacity grows in proportion to the growth of its -inhabitant. Ensconced in its hermitage, supplied with board and -lodging, the recluse waxes big and fat. What more is wanted? Certain -hygienic duties have to be attended to, though it is no easy matter in -a cramped little niche nearly all the room in which is occupied by the -grub; the mortar incessantly elaborated by an excessively obliging -intestine must be shot somewhere when there is no breach that needs -repairing. - -The larva is certainly not fastidious, but even so the bill of fare -must not be too outrageous. The humblest of the humble does not return -to what he or his kin have already digested. Matter from which the -intestinal alembic has extracted the last available atom yields nothing -more, unless we change both chemist and apparatus. What the Sheep, with -her fourfold stomach, has left behind as worthless residue is an -excellent thing for the grub, which also boasts a mighty paunch; but -the larva’s own droppings, though no doubt pleasing in their turn to -consumers of another class, are loathsome to the grub itself. Then -where shall the cumbrous refuse be stored, in a lodging of such -niggardly dimensions? - -I have described elsewhere the singular industry of the Cotton-bees, -[26] whose larvæ, in order not to foul their provision of honey, make -from their digestive dregs an elegant casket, a masterpiece of inlaid -work. With the only material at its disposal in its secluded retreat, -with the filth that apparently ought to be an intolerable nuisance, the -grub of the Sacred Beetle produces a work less artistic than the -Cotton-bee’s but much more comfortable. Let us see how it is done. - -Attacking its pear at the bottom of the neck, eating steadily downwards -and leaving nothing intact in its area of operations except a flimsy -wall necessary for its protection, the larva obtains a free space at -the back, in which its droppings are deposited without dirtying the -provisions. The hatching-chamber is the first to be filled up in this -way; then gradually more and more of the segment which has been eaten -into follows suit, always in the round part of the pear, which -consequently by degrees recovers its original compactness at the top, -while the bottom becomes less and less thick. Behind the grub is the -ever-increasing mass of used material; in front of it is the layer, -smaller day by day, of untouched food. - -Complete development is attained in four or five weeks. By that time -there is in the belly of the pear an eccentric circular cavity, with -walls very thick towards the neck of the pear and very flimsy at the -other end, the disparity being occasioned by the method of eating and -of progressive filling up. The meal is over. Next comes the furnishing -of the cell, which must be padded snugly for the tender body of the -nymph, and the strengthening of one of the hemispheres, the one whose -walls have been scraped by the last bites to the utmost permissible -limit. - -For this most important work the larva has wisely reserved a plentiful -stock of cement. The trowel therefore begins to be busy. This time, the -object is not to repair damage; it is to double and treble the -thickness of the wall in the weaker hemisphere and to cover the whole -surface with stucco which, after being polished by the movements of the -grub’s body, will be soft to the touch. As this cement acquires a -consistency superior to that of the original materials, the grub is at -last contained within a stout casket which defies all efforts to open -it with one’s fingers and is almost capable of withstanding a blow from -a stone. - -The apartment is ready. The grub sheds its skin and becomes a nymph. -There are very few inhabitants of the insect world that can compare for -sober beauty with the delicate creature which, with wing-cases -recumbent in front of it like a wide-pleated scarf and fore-legs folded -under its head like those of the adult Beetle when counterfeiting -death, calls to mind a mummy kept by its linen bandages in the approved -hieratic attitude. Semitranslucent and honey-yellow, it looks as though -it were carved from a block of amber. Imagine it hardened in this -state, mineralized, rendered incorruptible: it would make a splendid -topaz gem. - -In this marvel of beauty, so severe and dignified in shape and -colouring, one point above all captivates me and at last provides me -with the solution of a far-reaching problem. Have the fore-legs a -tarsus, yes or no? This is the great matter that makes me neglect the -jewel for the sake of a structural detail. Let us then return to a -subject that used to excite me in my early days, for the answer has -come at last, late, it is true, but certain and indisputable. The -probabilities which were all that my first investigations could give me -turn into certainties established by overwhelming evidence. - -By a very strange exception, the full-grown Sacred Beetle and his -congeners have no front tarsi: they lack on their fore-limbs the -five-jointed finger which is the rule among the highest section of -Beetles, the Pentamera. The remaining legs, on the other hand, follow -the general law and possess a very well-shaped tarsus. Does this -curious formation of the toothed fore-arms date from birth, or is it -accidental? - -At first sight, an accident seems not unlikely. The Sacred Beetle is a -strenuous miner and a great pedestrian. Always in contact with the -rough soil, whether in walking or digging, used moreover for constant -leverage when the insect is rolling its pill backwards, the front limbs -are exposed much more freely than the others to the danger of spraining -and twisting their delicate finger, of putting it out of joint, of -losing it entirely, from the first moment when the work begins. - -Lest this explanation should appeal to any of my readers, I will hasten -to undeceive him. The absence of the front fingers is not the result of -an accident. Here before my eyes lies the unanswerable proof. I examine -the nymph’s legs with the magnifying glass: those in front have not the -least vestige of a tarsus; the toothed limb ends bluntly, without any -trace of a terminal appendage. In the others, on the contrary, the -tarsus is as distinct as can be, notwithstanding the shapeless, lumpy -condition due to the swaddling-bands and humours of the nymphal state. -It suggests a finger swollen with chilblains. - -If the evidence of the nymph were not sufficient, there would still be -that of the perfect insect, which, casting its mummy-cloths and moving -for the first time in its shell, wields fingerless fore-arms. The point -is established for a certainty: the Sacred Beetle is born maimed; his -mutilation dates from the beginning. - -‘Very well,’ our popular theorists will reply, ‘the Sacred Beetle is -mutilated from birth; but his remote ancestors were not. Formed -according to the general rule, they were correct in structure down to -this tiny digital detail. There were some who, in their rough work as -navvies and carters, wore out that fragile, useless member which was -always in the way; and, finding themselves all the better equipped for -their work by this accidental amputation, they bequeathed it to their -successors, to the great benefit of their race. The present insect -profits by the improvement obtained by a long array of ancestors and, -acting under the stimulus of the struggle for life, gives more and more -durability to a favourable condition due to chance.’ - -O ingenious theorists, so triumphant on paper, so impotent in the face -of facts, just listen to me for a moment! If the loss of the front -fingers is a fortunate circumstance for the Sacred Beetle, who -faithfully transmits the leg of olden time fortuitously maimed, why -should it not be so with the other limbs, if they too chanced to lose -their terminal appendage, a tiny, feeble filament, which is very nearly -useless and which, owing to its fragility, is a cause of awkward -encounters with the roughness of the soil? - -The Sacred Beetle is not a climber; he is an ordinary pedestrian, -supporting himself upon the point of an iron-shod stick, whereby I mean -the stout spike or prickle with which the tip of his leg is armed. He -has no occasion to hold on by his claws to some hanging branch, as the -Cockchafer does. It would therefore, meseems, be entirely to his -advantage to rid himself of the four remaining digits, which jut out -sideways, give no help in walking, and do not play any part in the -making and the carting of the ball. Yes, that would mean progress, for -the simple reason that the less hold you give the enemy the better. It -remains to be seen if chance ever produces this state of things. - -It does and very often. At the end of the fine weather, in October, -when the insect has worn itself out in digging, in trundling pills and -in modelling pears, the maimed, disabled by their exertions, form the -great majority. Both in my cages and out of doors, I see them in all -stages of mutilation. Some have lost the finger on their four -hind-limbs altogether; others retain a stump, a couple of joints, a -single joint; those least damaged have a few members left intact. - -Here then is the mutilation on which the philosophers base their -theory. And it is no rare accident: every year the cripples outnumber -the others when the time comes for retiring to winter-quarters. In -their final labours they seem no more embarrassed than those who have -been spared by the buffeting of life. On both sides I find the same -nimbleness of movement, the same dexterity in kneading the reserve of -bread which will enable them to bear the first rigours of winter with -equanimity in their underground homes. In scavenger’s work, the maimed -rival the others. - -And these cripples found families: they spend the cold season beneath -the soil; they wake up in the spring, return to the surface and take -part for a second time, sometimes even for a third, in life’s great -festival. Their descendants ought to profit by an improvement which has -been renewed year by year, ever since Sacred Beetles came into the -world, and which has certainly had time to become fixed and to convert -itself into a settled habit. But they do nothing of the sort. Every -Sacred Beetle that breaks his shell, with not one exception, is endowed -with the regulation four tarsi. - -Well, my theorists, what do you say to that? For the two front legs you -offer a sort of explanation; and the four others give you a categorical -denial. Have you not been taking your fancies for facts? - -Then what is the cause of the Sacred Beetle’s original mutilation? I -will frankly confess that I have no idea. Nevertheless those two maimed -members are very strange, so strange indeed that they have enticed the -masters, the greatest masters, into lamentable errors. Listen, first of -all, to Latreille, [27] the prince of descriptive entomologists. In his -article on the insects which ancient Egypt painted or carved upon her -monuments, [28] he quotes the writings of Horapollo, [29] a unique -document preserved for us in the papyri for the glorification of the -sacred insect: - - - ‘One would be tempted at first,’ he says, ‘to set down as fiction - what Horapollo says of the number of this Beetle’s fingers: - according to him, there are thirty. Nevertheless, this computation, - judged by the way in which he looks at the tarsus, is quite - correct, for this part consists of five joints; and, if we take - each of them for a finger, the legs being six in number and each - ending in a five-jointed tarsus, the Sacred Beetles evidently had - thirty fingers.’ - - -Forgive me, illustrious master: the number of joints is but twenty, -because the two fore-legs are without tarsi. You were carried away by -the general rule. Losing sight of the singular exception, which you -certainly knew, you said thirty, obsessed for a moment by that -overwhelmingly positive rule. Yes, you knew the exception, so much so -that the figure of the Scarab accompanying your article, a figure drawn -from the insect and not from the Egyptian monuments, is irreproachably -accurate: it has no tarsi on its front legs. The blunder is pardonable, -because the exception is so unusual. - -Mulsant, [30] in his volume on the French Lamellicorns, quotes -Horapollo and his allowance of thirty fingers to the insect according -to the number of days which the sun takes to traverse a sign of the -Zodiac. He repeats Latreille’s explanation. He goes even farther. Here -are his own words: - - - ‘If we count each joint of the tarsi as a finger, we must admit - that this insect was examined with great attention.’ - - -Examined with great attention! By whom, pray? By Horapollo? Not a bit -of it! By you, my master: yes, indeed yes! And yet the rule, in its -very positiveness, is misleading you for a moment; it misleads you -again and in a more serious fashion when, in your illustration of the -Sacred Beetle, you represent the insect with tarsi on its fore-legs, -tarsi similar to those on the other legs. You, painstaking describer -though you be, have in your turn been the victim of a momentary -aberration. The rule is so general that it has made you lose sight of -the singularity of the exception. - -What did Horapollo himself see? Apparently what we see in our day. If -Latreille’s explanation be right, as everything seems to indicate, if -the Egyptian author began by counting the first thirty fingers -according to the number of joints in the tarsi, it is because he made a -mental enumeration on the basis of the general circumstances. He was -guilty of a slip which was not so very reprehensible, seeing that, more -than a thousand years later, masters like Latreille and Mulsant were -guilty of the same slip. If we must blame something, let us blame the -exceptional structure of the insect. - -‘But,’ I may be asked, ‘why should not Horapollo have seen the exact -truth? Perhaps the Sacred Beetle of his day had tarsi which the insect -no longer possesses. In that case, it has been transformed by the slow -work of time.’ - -I am waiting for some one to show me a natural Scarab of Horapollo’s -period before I reply to this objection on the part of the -evolutionists. The tombs which so religiously guard the Cat, the Ibis -and the Crocodile must also contain the sacred insect. All that I have -by me is a few figures showing the Scarab as we find him engraved on -the monuments or carved in fine stone as an amulet for the mummies. The -ancient artist is remarkably faithful in the execution of the thing as -a whole; but his graver and chisel have not troubled about such -insignificant details as the tarsi. - -Poor as I am in documents of this kind, I doubt whether the work of -sculptor or engraver will solve the problem. Even if an image with -front tarsi were discovered somewhere or other, the question would be -no further advanced. It would always be possible to plead a mistake, an -oversight, a leaning towards symmetry. The doubt, so long as it -prevails in certain minds, can be removed only by the sight of the -ancient insect in the natural state. I will wait for it, though -convinced beforehand that the Sacred Beetle of the Pharaohs differed in -no way from our own. - -We will stay a little longer with the old Egyptian author, though his -wild allegorical jargon is usually incomprehensible. He is sometimes -strikingly accurate in his ideas. Is this due to a chance coincidence? -Or is it the result of serious observation? I should be glad to take -the latter view, so perfect is the agreement between his statements and -certain biological details of which our own science was ignorant until -quite lately. Of the home life of the Sacred Beetle Horapollo knew much -more than we do. He tells us this in particular: - - - ‘The Scarabæus deposits this ball in the earth for the space of - twenty-eight days (for in so many days the moon passes through the - twelve signs of the Zodiac). By thus remaining under the moon the - race of Scarabæi is endowed with life; and upon the twenty-ninth - day, after having opened the ball, it casts it into water, for it - is aware that upon that day the conjunction of the moon and sun - takes place, as well as the generation of the world. From the ball - thus opened, the animals, that is, the Scarabæi, issue forth.’ [31] - - -Let us dismiss the revolution of the moon, the conjunction of the sun -and moon, the generation of the world and other astrological -absurdities, but remember this, the twenty-eight days of incubation -required by the ball underground, the twenty-eight days during which -the Scarab is born to life. Let us also remember the indispensable -intervention of water to bring the insect out of its burst shell. These -are definite facts, falling within the domain of true science. Are they -imaginary or real? The question deserves investigation. - -The ancients were unacquainted with the wonders of the metamorphosis. -To them a larva was a worm born of corruption. The wretched creature -had no future to lift it from its abject state: as worm it appeared and -as worm it must disappear. It was not a mask whereunder a higher form -of life was being elaborated; it was a definite entity, supremely -contemptible and doomed soon to return to the putrescence of which it -was the offspring. - -To the Egyptian author, then, the Scarab’s larva was unknown. And, if -by chance he had had before his eyes the insect’s shell inhabited by a -fat, pot-bellied grub, he would never have suspected in the foul and -ugly animal the sober beauty of the future Scarab. According to the -ideas of the time, ideas that were long maintained, the sacred insect -had neither father nor mother: an error excusable among the untutored -ancients, for here the two sexes are outwardly indistinguishable. It -was born of the ordure that formed its ball; and its birth dated from -the appearance of the nymph, that amber jewel displaying, in a -perfectly recognizable shape, the features of the adult insect. - -In the eyes of antiquity the life of the Sacred Beetle began at the -moment when he could be recognized, not before; for otherwise we should -have that as yet unsuspected connecting-link, the grub. The -twenty-eight days, therefore, during which, as Horapollo tells us, the -offspring of the insect quickens, represent the duration of the nymphal -phase. This duration has been the object of special attention in my -studies. It varies but never to any great extent. From my notes I find -thirty-three days to be the longest period and twenty-one the shortest. -The average, supplied by some twenty observations, is twenty-eight -days. This very number twenty-eight, this number of days contained in -four weeks, actually appears oftener than the others. Horapollo spoke -truly: the real insect takes life in the space of a lunar month. - -The four weeks passed, behold the Sacred Beetle in his final shape: the -shape, yes, but not the colouring, which is very strange when the nymph -casts its skin. The head, legs and thorax are dark-red, except the -denticulations of the forehead and fore-arms, which are smoky-brown. -The abdomen is an opaque white; the wing-cases are semitransparent -white, very faintly tinged with yellow. This imposing raiment, blending -the scarlet of the cardinal’s cassock with the white of the celebrant’s -alb, a raiment that harmonizes with the insect’s hieratic character, is -but temporary and turns darker by degrees, to make way for a uniform of -ebon black. About a month is needed for the horny armour to acquire a -firm consistency and a definite hue. - -At last the Beetle is fully matured. Awakening within him is the -delicious restlessness born of coming freedom. He, hitherto a son of -the darkness, foresees the gladness of the light. Great is his longing -to burst the shell so that he may emerge from his underground prison -and come into the sun; but the difficulty of liberating himself is no -small one. Will he or will he not escape from the natal cradle, which -has now become a hateful dungeon? It depends. - -Generally in August the Sacred Beetle is ripe for release: in August, -save for rare exceptions, the most torrid, dry and scorching month of -the year. If therefore no shower come from time to time to give some -slight relief to the panting earth, then the cell to be burst and the -wall to be breached defy the strength and patience of the insect, which -is helpless against all that hardness. Owing to prolonged desiccation, -the soft original matter has become an insuperable rampart; it has -turned into a sort of brick baked in the kiln of summer. - -I have, of course, made experiments on the insect in these difficult -circumstances. I gather pear-shaped shells containing the adult Beetle, -who is on the point of emerging, in view of the lateness of the season. -These shells are already dry and very hard; and I lay them in a box -where they retain their dryness. Sooner or later I hear the sharp -grating of a rasp inside each cell. It is the prisoner working to make -himself an outlet by scraping the wall with the rake of his forehead -and fore-feet. Two or three days elapse; and the process of deliverance -seems to be no further advanced. - -I come to the assistance of a pair of them by myself opening a loophole -with a knife. My idea is that this first breach will help the egress of -the recluse by giving him a place to start upon, an exit that will only -need widening. But not at all: these favoured ones make no more -progress with their work than the others. - -In less than a fortnight silence prevails in all the shells. The -prisoners, worn out with vain endeavours, have perished. I break the -caskets containing the deceased. A meagre pinch of dust, hardly as much -as an average pea in bulk, is all that those powerful implements, rasp, -saw, harrow and rake, have succeeded in detaching from the invincible -wall. - -I take some other shells, of equal hardness, wrap them in a wet rag and -put them in a flask. When the moisture has soaked through them, I rid -them of their wrapper and keep them in the corked flask. This time -events take a very different course. Softened to a nicety by the wet -rag, the shells open, burst by the efforts of the prisoner, who props -himself boldly on his legs, using his back as a lever; or else, scraped -away at one point, they crumble to pieces and reveal a yawning breach. -The experiment is a complete success. In every case the release of the -Beetles is safely accomplished: a few drops of water have brought them -the joys of the sun. - -For the second time Horapollo was right. True, it is not the mother, as -the ancient writer says, who throws her ball into the water: it is the -clouds that provide the liberating douche, it is the rain that brings -about the ultimate release. In the natural state things must happen as -in my experiments. When the soil is burnt by the August sun, the -shells, baked like bricks under their thin covering of earth, are for -most of the time hard as stones. It is impossible for the insect to -wear away its casket and escape. But let a shower come—that life-giving -baptism which the seed of the plant and the family of the Beetle alike -await within the cinders of the earth—let a little rain fall; and soon -there will be a resurrection in the fields. - -The earth becomes soaked. There you have the wet rag of my experiment. -At its touch the shell recovers the softness of its early days, the -casket becomes yielding; the insect makes play with its legs and pushes -with its back; it is free. It is in fact in September, during the first -rains that herald autumn, that the Sacred Beetle leaves his native -burrow and comes forth to enliven the pastoral sward, even as the -former generation enlivened it in the spring. The clouds, hitherto so -ungenerous, at last set him free. - -When the earth is exceptionally cool, the bursting of the shell and the -deliverance of its occupant can occur at an earlier period; but in -ground scorched by the pitiless summer sun, as is usually the case in -my district, the Beetle, however eager he may be to see the light, must -needs wait for the first rain to soften his stubborn shell. A downpour -is to him a question of life and death. Horapollo, that echo of the -Egyptian magi, saw true when he made water play its part in the birth -of the sacred insect. - -But let us drop the jargon of antiquity, with its fragments of truth; -let us not overlook the first acts of the Scarab on leaving his shell; -and let us be present at his prentice steps in open-air life. In August -I break the casket in which I hear the helpless captive chafing. I -place the insect, the only one of its species, in a cage together with -some Gymnopleuri. There is plenty of fresh food provided. This is the -moment, said I to myself, when we take refreshment after so long an -abstinence. Well, I was wrong: the new recruit shows no interest in the -victuals, notwithstanding my invitations, my summons to the tempting -heap. What he wants above all is the joys of the light. He scales the -metal trelliswork, sets himself in the sun, and there motionless takes -his fill of its beams. - -What passes through his dull-witted Dung-beetle brain during this first -bath of radiant brightness? Probably nothing. His is the unconscious -happiness of a flower blossoming in the sun. - -At last the insect goes to the victuals. A pellet is made in accordance -with all the rules. There is no apprenticeship: at the first attempt, -the spherical form is achieved as accurately as after long practice. A -burrow is dug in which the bread just kneaded may be eaten in peace. -Here again we find the novice thoroughly versed in his art. No length -of experience will add anything to his talents. - -His digging-tools are his fore-legs and forehead. To shoot the rubbish -outside, he uses the barrow, exactly like any of his elders, that is to -say, he covers his corselet with a load of earth; then, head downwards, -he dives into the dust, afterwards coming forward and depositing his -load a few inches from the entrance. With a leisurely step, like that -of a navvy with a long job before him, he goes underground again to -reload his barrow. This work upon the dining-room takes whole hours to -finish. - -At length the ball is stored away. The front-door is shut; and the -thing is done. Bed and board secured, begone dull care! All is for the -best in the best of all possible worlds. Lucky creature! Without ever -seeing it practised by your kindred, whom you have not yet met, without -ever learning it, you know your trade to perfection; and it will give -you an ample share of food and tranquillity, both so hard to achieve in -human life. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE BROAD-NECKED SCARAB; THE GYMNOPLEURI - - -What we have learnt from the Sacred Beetle must not lead us into rash -generalizations and make us attribute it in every slightest detail to -the other Dung-beetles of the same family. Similarity of structure does -not entail parity of instincts. A common basis no doubt exists, -resulting from identity of equipment; but many variations of the -essential theme are possible and are dictated by inherent aptitudes of -which the insect’s organization gives us no inkling. In fact, the study -of these variations, of these peculiarities, with their hidden reasons, -forms the most attractive part of the observer’s researches as he -explores his corner of the entomological domain. Unsparing of time and -patience, sometimes of ingenuity, you have at last learnt what this one -does. See now what that one does, his near neighbour structurally. To -what extent does number two repeat the habits of number one? Has he -ways of his own, tricks of the trade, industrial specialities unknown -to the other? It is a highly interesting problem, for the impassable -line of demarcation between the two species is much more conspicuous in -these psychological differences than in the differences of the -wing-case or antenna. - -The Scarab clan is represented in my district by the Sacred Beetle -(Scarabæus sacer, Lin.), the Half-spotted Scarab (S. semipunctatus, -Fab.) and the Broad-necked Scarab (S. laticollis, Lin.). The two former -are chilly creatures and hardly stir from the Mediterranean; the third -goes pretty far north. The Half-spotted Scarab does not leave the -coast; he abounds on the sandy beaches of the Golfe Juan, Cette and -Palavas. I have, in my time, admired his prowess at pill-rolling, of -which he is as fervent a devotee as his colleague the Sacred Beetle. -To-day, though we are old friends, I cannot, to my great regret, give -my attention to him: we are too far away from each other. I recommend -him to any one wishing to add a chapter to Scarab biography: he also -must have—I feel nearly sure of it—peculiarities worth noting. - -And so, to complete this study, there remains in my immediate proximity -only the Broad-necked Scarab, the smallest of the three. He is very -rare around Sérignan, though widely distributed in other parts of the -Vaucluse. This scarcity deprives me of opportunities for observing the -insect in the open fields; and my only resource is to bring up a few -chance specimens in captivity. - -Behind the wire-gauze of his prison, the Broad-necked Scarab does not -display the Sacred Beetle’s athletic prowess nor his bold and hasty -temper. In his case we see no scuffles between robber and robbed, no -pills manufactured purely for art’s sake, rolled for a little while -with wild enthusiasm and then consigned to the rubbish-heap without -being employed at all. The same blood does not flow in the veins of the -two pill-rollers. - -Of a quieter disposition and less wasteful of his gleanings, the Beetle -with the broad corselet attacks discreetly the heap of manna provided -by the Sheep; he picks from the best part some armfuls of material -which he makes into a ball; he attends to his business without -troubling the others or being troubled by them. For the rest, his -methods are the same as those of the Sacred Beetle. The sphere, which -is always an easier object to convey, is fashioned on the spot before -being set in motion. With his wide fore-legs the Beetle pats and kneads -and moulds it, making it smooth and level by adding an armful here and -there. The perfect roundness of the ball is achieved before it leaves -the place. - -When the requisite size has been obtained, the pill-roller makes his -way with his booty to the spot where the burrow is to be dug. The -journey is effected exactly as it would be by the Sacred Beetle. Head -downwards, hind-legs lifted against the rolling mechanism, the insect -pushes backwards. So far there is nothing new, save for a certain -slowness in the performance. But wait a little while: soon a striking -difference in habits will separate the two insects. - -As each pill is carted away, I seize it, together with its owner, and -place both on the surface of a layer of fresh, close-packed sand in a -flower-pot. A sheet of glass serves as a lid, keeps the sand nice and -cool, prevents escape and admits the light. By interning each Beetle -separately, I am saved from the mistakes which might arise if I put -them in the common cage, where a number of my boarders are at work; and -I shall not risk ascribing to several what may be the performance of -one alone. By this solitary confinement, each individual Beetle’s work -can be studied more easily. - -The interned mother makes hardly any protest against her servitude. -Soon she is digging the sand and disappears in it with her pill. Let us -give her time to establish her quarters and to get on with her domestic -labours. - -Three or four weeks go by. The Beetle has not reappeared upon the -surface, a proof of her patient absorption in her maternal duties. At -last I remove the contents of the pot, very carefully, layer by layer, -until I uncover a spacious burrow. The rubbish from this cavity was -heaped up on the surface, forming a little mound. This is the secret -chamber, the gynæceum in which the mother now and for a long time to -come keeps watch over her budding family. - -The original pill has disappeared. In its stead are two little pears, -elegantly shaped and wonderfully finished: two, not one, as I naturally -expected from the information already in my possession. They strike me -as being even more delicately and gracefully rounded than the Sacred -Beetle’s. Perhaps their tiny dimensions cause my preference: maxime -miranda in minimis. They measure 33 millimetres in length and 24 -millimetres across their greatest width. [32] Let us drop figures and -admit that the dumpy modeller, with her slow and awkward ways, is the -artistic rival or even the superior of her famous kinswoman. I expected -to see some clumsy apprentice; I find a consummate artificer. We must -not judge people by appearances; it is a wise maxim, even when applied -to insects. - -If we examine the pot somewhat earlier, it will tell us how the pear is -made. I find sometimes a perfectly round ball and a pear without any -traces of the original pill; sometimes a ball only, with a nearly -hemispherical remnant of the pill, a lump from which the materials -subjected to modelling have been detached in one piece. The method of -work can be deduced from these facts. - -The pill which the Scarab fashions on the surface of the soil by taking -armfuls from the heap encountered is but a temporary piece of work, -which is given a round form with the sole object of facilitating its -transport. He gives his attention to it, no doubt, but is not unduly -anxious about it; all that he wants is that the journey should be -effected without any crumbling of his treasure or impediment in the -rolling. The surface of the sphere, therefore, is not thoroughly -treated; it is not compressed into a rind or made scrupulously even. - -Underground, when it is a question of getting the egg’s casket ready, -the casket that is to be both larder and cradle, it becomes another -matter. An incision is made all round the pill, dividing it into two -almost equal portions, and one half is subjected to manipulation, while -the other lies just against it, destined to receive the same treatment -later. The hemisphere worked upon is rounded into a ball, which will be -the belly of the prospective pear. This time, the modelling is -performed with the nicest care: the future of the larva, which also is -exposed to the dangers of overdry bread, is at stake. The surface of -the ball is therefore patted at one spot after the other, -conscientiously hardened by compression and levelled along a regular -curve. The spherule thus obtained possesses geometrical precision, or -very nearly so. Let us not forget that this difficult work is -accomplished without rolling, as the clean condition of the surface -shows. - -The rest of the business may be guessed from the proceedings of the -Sacred Beetle. The sphere is hollowed into a crater and becomes a sort -of bulging, shallow pot. The lips are drawn out into a pocket which -receives the egg. The pocket is closed, polished outside and joined -neatly to the sphere. The pear is finished. The other half of the pill -is now similarly treated. - -The notable feature of this work is the elegant regularity of the forms -obtained without any rolling. Chance enables me to add another and a -most striking proof to the many that I have given of this modelling -done on the spot. Once and once only I managed to get from the -Broad-necked Scarab two pears closely soldered together by their -bellies and lying in opposite directions. The first one constructed can -teach us nothing new, but the second tells us this: when, for a reason -that is not apparent, for lack of room perhaps, the insect left this -second pear touching the other and soldered it to its neighbour while -working at it, obviously, with this appendage, any rolling or any -moving became impracticable. Nevertheless, the pretty shape was secured -to perfection. - -From the point of view of instinct, the distinguishing features which -make of the two pear-modellers two entirely different species are -absolutely clear from these details and much more conclusive than the -peculiarities in the corselet and wing-case. The Sacred Beetle’s burrow -never contains more than one pear. The Broad-necked Scarab’s contains -two. I even suspect that there are sometimes three, when the haul is a -large one: we shall learn more on this subject from the Copres. The -first, when she gets her pill underground, uses it just as she obtained -it in the workyard and does not subdivide it at all. The second breaks -up hers, though it is a little smaller, into two equal parts and -fashions each half into a pear. The single ball gives place to two and -sometimes even perhaps to three. If the two Dung-beetles have a common -origin, I should like to know how this radical difference in their -domestic economy declared itself. - -The story of the Gymnopleuri is the same as that of the Scarabs, on a -more modest scale. To pass it over in silence, for fear of too much -sameness, would be to deprive ourselves of evidence calculated to -confirm certain theories whose truth is established by the recurrence -of similar facts. Let us set it forth, in an abridged form. - -The Gymnopleurus family owes its name to a lateral notch in the -wing-cases, which leaves a part of the sides bare. It is represented in -France by two species. One, with smooth wing-cases (G. pilularius, -Fab.), is fairly common everywhere; the other (G. flagellatus, Fab.), -stippled on the top with little holes, as though the insect had been -pitted with small-pox, is rarer and prefers the south. Both species -abound in the pebbly plains of my neighbourhood, where the Sheep pass -amid the lavender and thyme. Their shape is not unlike that of the -Sacred Beetle; but they are much smaller. For the rest, they have the -same habits, the same fields of operation, the same nesting-period: May -and June, down to July. - -Applying themselves to similar labours, Gymnopleuri and Scarabs are -brought into each other’s society rather by the force of things than by -the love of company. I not infrequently see them settling next door to -each other; I even oftener find them seated at the same heap. In bright -sunshine the banqueters are sometimes very numerous. The Gymnopleuri -predominate largely. - -One would be inclined to think that these insects, endowed with powers -of nimble and sustained flight, explore the country in swarms and that, -when they find rich plunder, they all swoop down upon it at once. -Though the sight of so large a crowd might seem to mean something of -the kind, I am very sceptical about these expeditions in large -squadrons. I am more ready to believe that the Gymnopleuri have come, -from everywhere in the neighbourhood, one by one, guided by keenness of -scent. What I see is a gathering of individuals who have hastened from -every point of the compass, and not the halt of a swarm engaged on a -common search. No matter: the teeming colony is at times so numerous -that it would be possible to pick up the Gymnopleuri by handfuls. - -But they hardly give one time. When the peril is realized, which soon -happens, most of them fly off with all speed; the others crouch low and -hide themselves under the heap. In a moment the tumult of activity is -succeeded by absolute stillness. The Sacred Beetle is not subject to -these sudden attacks of panic, which empty the busiest yard in the -twinkling of an eye. When surprised at his task and examined at close -quarters, however importunately, he impassively continues his work. He -knows no fear. Here we see a thorough difference in temperament between -insects which are identical in structure and which follow the same -trade. - -The difference is equally marked in another respect: the Sacred Beetle -is a fervent pill-roller. When the ball is made, his supreme felicity, -his summa voluptas, is to cart it backwards for hours at a time, to -juggle with it, so to speak, under a blazing sun. His epithet -pilularius notwithstanding, the Gymnopleurus does not show so much -enthusiasm over a round pellet. Unless he means to feed upon it quietly -in a burrow or to use it as a ration for his larva, he never kneads a -ball only to roll it about ecstatically and then abandon it when this -violent exercise has given him his fill of pleasure. - -Both in his wild state and in captivity, the Gymnopleurus makes his -meal on the spot where he finds his food; it is hardly his habit to -make a round loaf in order to consume it afterwards in some underground -retreat. The pill to which the insect owes its name is rolled, so far -as I have seen, only in the interests of its family. - -The mother takes from the heap the amount of material required for -rearing a larva and kneads it into a ball at the spot where it is -gathered. Then, going backwards, with her head down, like the Scarabs, -she rolls it and finally stores it in a burrow, in order to give it the -necessary treatment for the egg to thrive. - -Of course the rolling ball never contains the egg. The laying takes -place not on the public highway but in the privacy of the subsoil. A -burrow is dug, two or three inches deep at most. It is spacious in -proportion to its contents, proving that the Sacred Beetle’s -studio-work is repeated by the Gymnopleurus. I am speaking of that -modelling in which the artist must have full liberty of movement. When -the egg is laid, the cell remains empty; only the passage is filled up, -as witness the little mound outside, the surplus of the unreplaced -refuse. - -A minute’s digging with my pocket-trowel and the humble cabin is laid -bare. The mother is often present, occupied in some trifling household -duties before quitting the cell for good. In the middle of the room -lies her work, the cradle of the germ and the ration of the coming -larva. Its shape and size are those of a Sparrow’s egg; and I am here -speaking of both Gymnopleuri, whose habits and labours are so much -alike that I need not distinguish between them. Unless we found the -mother beside it, we should be unable to tell whether the ovoid which -we have dug up is the work of the smooth or of the pock-marked insect. -At most, a slight advantage in size might point to the former; and even -so this characteristic is far from trustworthy. - -The egg-shape, with its two unequal ends, one large and round, the -other more pointed, shaped like an elliptical nipple, or even drawn out -into the neck of a pear, confirms the conclusions with which we are -already acquainted. An outline of this kind is not obtained by rolling, -which is only reconcilable with a sphere. To get it, the mother must -knead her lump of stuff. This may be already more or less round, as the -result of the work done in the yard whence it came and of the -subsequent carting, or it may still be shapeless, if the heap was near -enough to allow of immediate storing. In short, once at home, she acts -like the Sacred Beetle, and does modelling-work. - -The material lends itself well to this. Taken from the most plastic -stuff supplied by the Sheep, it is shaped as easily as clay. In this -way the graceful, firm, polished ovoid is obtained, a work of art like -the pear and as exquisite in its soft curve as a bird’s egg. - -Where, inside it, is the insect’s germ? If we argued rightly when -discussing the Sacred Beetle, if really the questions of ventilation -and warmth demand that the egg be as near as possible to the -surrounding atmosphere, while remaining protected by a rampart, it is -evident that the egg must be installed at the small end of the ovoid, -behind a thin defensive wall. - -And this in fact is where it lies, lodged in a tiny hatching-chamber -and wrapped on every side in a blanket of air, which is easily renewed -through a slender partition and a matted plug. This position did not -surprise me; from what the Sacred Beetle had already taught me I -expected it. The point of my knife, this time no novice, went straight -to the ovoid’s pointed teat and scratched. The egg appeared, -magnificently confirming the argument which had at first been merely -suspected, then dimly seen and finally changed into certainty by the -recurrence of the fundamental facts under varying conditions. - -Scarabs and Gymnopleuri are modellers who were not educated in the same -school; they differ in the outline of their masterpiece. With the same -materials, the first manufacture pears, the second for the most part -ovoids; and yet, despite this divergence, they both conform to the -essential conditions demanded by the egg and by the grub. The grub -wants provisions that are not liable to become prematurely dry. This -condition is fulfilled, so far as may be, by giving the mass a round -shape, which evaporates less quickly because of its smaller surface. -The egg requires unrestricted air and the heat of the sun’s rays, -conditions which are fulfilled in the one case by the pear with its -neck and in the other by the ovoid with its pointed end. - -Laid in June, the egg of either species of Gymnopleuri hatches in less -than a week. The average is five or six days. Any one who has seen the -larva of the Sacred Beetle knows, so far as essentials go, the larva of -the two small pill-rollers. In each case it is a big-bellied grub, -curved into a hook and carrying a hump or knapsack which contains a -portion of the mighty digestive apparatus. The body is cut off -slantwise at the back and forms a stercoral trowel, denoting habits -similar to those of the Sacred Beetle’s larva. - -We see repeated, in fact, the peculiarities described in the story of -the big pill-roller. In the larval state, the Gymnopleuri also are -great excreters, ever ready with mortar to make good the imperilled -dwelling. They instantly repair the breaches which I make, either to -observe them in the privacy of their home or to provoke their -plastering-industry. They fill up the chinks with putty, solder the -parts that become disjointed, mend the broken cell. When the nymphosis -approaches, the mortar that remains is expended in a layer of stucco, -which reinforces and polishes the inner walls. - -The same dangers give rise to the same defensive methods. Like the -Sacred Beetles’, the shell of the Gymnopleuri is liable to crack. The -free admission of air to the interior would have disastrous -consequences, by drying the food, which must keep soft until the grub -has attained its full growth. An intestine which is never empty and -which displays unparalleled docility gets the threatened grub out of -its trouble. There is no need to enlarge upon this point; the Sacred -Beetle has told us all about it. - -The insects reared in captivity tell me that, in the Gymnopleuri, the -larva lasts seventeen to twenty-five days and the nymph fifteen to -twenty. These figures are bound to vary, but within narrow limits. I -shall therefore fix each period at approximately three weeks. - -Nothing remarkable happens during the nymphal stage. The only thing to -be noted is the curious costume worn by the perfect insect on its first -appearance. It is the costume which the Sacred Beetle showed us: head, -corselet, legs and chest a rusty red; wing-cases and abdomen white. We -may add that, being powerless to burst his shell, which has been turned -into a strong-box by the heat of August, the prisoner, in order to -release himself, waits until the first September rains come to his help -and soften the wall. - -Instinct, which under normal conditions amazes us with its unerring -prescience, astonishes us no less with its dense ignorance when -unaccustomed conditions supervene. Each insect has its trade, in which -it excels, its series of actions logically arranged. Here it is really -a master. Its foresight, though unwitting, here surpasses our -deliberate science; its unconscious inspiration is here the superior of -our conscious reason. But divert it from its natural course; and -forthwith darkness succeeds the splendours of light. Nothing will -rekindle the extinguished rays, not even the greatest stimulus that -exists, the stimulus of maternity. - -I have given many instances of this strange antithesis, [33] which is -the death-blow to certain theories; I find another and an exceedingly -striking one in the Dung-beetles whose story I have now nearly finished -telling. We are surprised at this clear vision of the future possessed -by our manufacturers of spheres, pears and ovoids; but we are no less -surprised by something totally different, namely, the mother’s profound -indifference to the nursery which but now was the object of her -tenderest cares. - -My remarks apply equally to the Sacred Beetle and the two Gymnopleuri, -all of whom display the same admirable zeal when the grub’s comfort has -to be assured, and later, with no less unanimity, the same -indifference. I surprise the mother in her burrow before she has laid -her eggs, or, if the laying be over, before she has added those -meticulous after-touches dictated by her exaggerated conscientiousness. -I install her in a pot packed full of earth, placing her on the surface -of the artificial soil, together with her work, in its more or less -advanced state. In this place of banishment, provided that it be quiet, -there is not much hesitation. The mother, who until now has held her -precious materials tight-clutched, decides to dig a burrow. As the work -of excavation progresses, she drags her pellet down with her, for it is -a sacred thing with which she must not part at any time, even amid the -difficulties of her digging. Soon the cell in which the pear or the -ovoid is to be made is in existence at the bottom of the pot. - -I now intervene and turn the pot upside down. Everything is -topsy-turvy; the entrance-gallery and the terminal hall disappear. I -extract the mother and the pellet from the ruins. Once more the pot is -filled with earth; and the same test begins all over again. A few hours -are enough to restore the courage shaken by all this upheaval. For the -second time, the mother buries herself with the heap of provisions -destined for the grub. For the second time also, when the establishment -is finished, the overturning of the pot unsettles everything. The -experiment is renewed. Persisting in its maternal solicitude, if -necessary until its strength gives way, the insect again buries itself, -together with its sphere. - -Four times over, in two days, I have thus seen the mother Beetle bear -up under the devastation which I have wrought and start afresh, with -touching patience, on the ruined dwelling. I did not think fit to -pursue the test. You feel some scruples in submitting maternal -affection to such tribulations as these. However, it seems probable -that, sooner or later, the exhausted and bewildered insect would have -refused to go on digging. - -My experiments of this kind are numerous; and they all prove that, when -taken from her burrow with her work unfinished, the mother shows -indefatigable perseverance in burying and depositing in a place of -safety the cradle which has begun to take shape though as yet -untenanted. For the sake of a pellet of stuff which the presence of the -egg has not yet turned into a sacred thing, she displays exaggerated -prudence and caution, as well as amazing foresight. No tricks of the -experimenter, no all-upsetting accidents, nothing, unless her strength -be worn out, can divert her from her object. She is filled with a sort -of indomitable obsession. The future of her race requires that the lump -of stuff should descend into the earth; and descend it will, whatever -happens. - -Now for the other side of the medal. The egg is laid; everything is in -order underground. The mother comes out. I take hold of her as she does -so; I dig up the pear or ovoid; I place the work and the worker side by -side on the surface of the soil, in the conditions that prevailed just -now. This assuredly is the right moment for burying the pill. It -contains the egg, a delicate thing which a touch of the sun will wither -in its thin wrapper. Expose it for fifteen minutes to the heat of the -sun’s rays; and all will be lost. What will the mother do in this grave -emergency? - -She does nothing at all. She does not even seem to perceive the -presence of the object which was so precious to her yesterday, when the -egg was not yet laid. Zealous to excess before the laying is over, she -is indifferent afterwards. The finished work no longer concerns her. -Imagine a pebble in the place of the ovoid or pear: the mother would -treat it no better and no worse. One sole preoccupation urges her: to -get away. I can see that by the manner in which she paces the enclosure -that keeps her prisoner. - -That is instinct’s way: it buries perseveringly the lifeless lump and -leaves the quickened lump to perish on the surface. The work to be done -is everything; the work done no longer counts. Instinct sees the future -and knows nothing of the past. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE SPANISH COPRIS: THE LAYING OF THE EGGS - - -If we show instinct doing for the egg what would be done on the advice -of reason matured by study and experience, we achieve a result of no -small philosophic importance; and an austere scientific conscience -begins to trouble me with scruples. Not that I wish to give science a -forbidding aspect: I am convinced that one can say the wisest things -without employing a barbarous vocabulary. Clearness is the supreme -courtesy of the wielder of the pen. I do my best to observe it. No, the -scruple that stops me is of another kind. - -I begin to wonder if I am not in this case the victim of an illusion. I -say to myself: - -‘Gymnopleuri and Sacred Beetles, when in the open air, are -manufacturers of balls or pills. That is their trade, learnt we know -not how, prescribed perhaps by their structure, in particular by their -long legs, some of which are slightly curved. When they are making -preparations for the egg, is it so wonderful that they continue -underground their own ball-making speciality?’ - -If we leave out of the question the neck of the pear and the projecting -tip of the ovoid, details much more difficult to explain, there remains -the most important part so far as bulk is concerned, the globular part, -a repetition of the thing which the insect makes outside the burrow; -there remains the pellet with which the Sacred Beetle plays in the -sunshine, sometimes without making any other use of it, the ball which -the Gymnopleurus rolls peacefully over the turf. - -Then what is the object here of the globular form, the best -preventative of desiccation during the heat of summer? This property of -the sphere and of its near neighbour, the ovoid, is an accepted -physical fact; but it is only by accident that these shapes are the -right ones to overcome that difficulty. A creature built for rolling -balls across the fields goes on making balls underground. If the grub -fare all the better for finding tender foodstuffs under its mandibles -to the very end, that is a capital thing for the grub, but it is no -reason why we should extol the instinct of the mother. - -So I argued, saying to myself that, before I was convinced, I should -need to be shown a Dung-beetle who was utterly unfamiliar with the -pill-making business in everyday life and who yet, when laying-time was -at hand, made an abrupt change in her habits and shaped her provisions -into a ball. My Dung-beetle would have to be a good fat one too. Is -there any such in my neighbourhood? Yes, there is; and she is one of -the handsomest and largest, next to the Sacred Beetle. I speak of the -Spanish Copris (C. hispanus, Lin.), who is so remarkable on account of -the sharp slope of her corselet and the disproportionate size of the -horn surmounting her head. - -Round and squat, the Spanish Copris with her ponderous gait is -certainly a stranger to gymnastics such as are performed by the Sacred -Beetle or the Gymnopleurus. Her legs, which are of insignificant length -and folded under her belly at the slightest alarm, bear no comparison -with the stilts of the pill-rollers. Their stunted form and lack of -flexibility are enough in themselves to tell us that their owner would -not care to roam about hampered by a rolling ball. - -The Copris is indeed of a sedentary habit. Once he has found his -provisions, at night or in the evening twilight, he digs a burrow under -the heap. It is a rough cavern, large enough to hold an apple. Here is -introduced, bit by bit, the stuff that is just over his head or at any -rate lying on the threshold of the cavern; here is engulfed, in no -definite shape, an enormous supply of victuals, bearing eloquent -witness to the insect’s gluttony. As long as the hoard lasts, the -Copris, engrossed in the pleasures of the table, does not return to the -surface. The home is not abandoned until the larder is emptied, when -the insect recommences its nocturnal quest, finds a new treasure and -scoops out another temporary dwelling. - -As his trade is merely that of a gatherer of manure, shovelling in the -stuff without any preliminary manipulation, the Copris is evidently -quite ignorant, for the time being, of the art of kneading and -modelling a globular loaf. Besides, his short, clumsy legs seem utterly -irreconcilable with any such art. - -In May, or June at latest, comes laying-time. The insect, so ready to -fill its own belly with the most sordid materials, becomes particular -where the portion of its family is concerned. Like the Sacred Beetle, -like the Gymnopleurus, it now wants the soft produce of the Sheep, -deposited in a single slab. Even when abundant, the cake is buried on -the spot in its entirety. Not a trace of it remains outside. Economy -demands that it be collected to the very last crumb. - -You see: no travelling, no carting, no preparations. The cake is -carried down to the cellar by armfuls, at the very spot where it lies. -The insect repeats, with an eye to its grubs, what it did when working -for itself. As for the burrow, whose presence is indicated by a -good-sized mound, it is a roomy cavern excavated to a depth of some -eight inches. I observe that it is more spacious and better built than -the temporary abodes occupied by the Copris at times of revelry. - -But let us turn from the insect in its wild state to the insect in -captivity. In the former case the evidence furnished by chance -encounters would be incomplete, fragmentary and of dubious relevancy; -and we shall do better to watch the Copris in my insect-house, -especially as she lends herself admirably to this sort of observation. -Let us observe the storing first. - -In the soft evening light I see her appear on the threshold of her -burrow. She has come up from the depths, she is going to gather in her -harvest. She has not far to go: the provisions are there, outside the -door, a generous supply which I am careful to replenish. Cautiously, -ready to retreat at the least alarm, she makes her way to them with a -slow and measured step. Her shield does the rummaging and dissecting, -her fore-legs are busy extracting. An armful, quite a modest one, is -pulled away, crumbling to pieces. The Copris drags it backwards and -disappears underground. In less than two minutes, she is back again. -With feathery antennæ outspread, she warily scans the neighbourhood -before crossing the threshold of her dwelling. - -A distance of two or three inches separates her from the heap of -provisions. It is a serious matter for her to venture so far. She would -have liked the victuals to be exactly overhead, forming a roof to her -house. That would have saved her from having to make these expeditions, -which are a source of anxiety. I have decided otherwise. To facilitate -observation, I have placed the supplies just on one side. By degrees -the nervous creature is reassured; it becomes accustomed to the open -air and to my presence, which, of course, I make as unobtrusive as -possible. Armful after armful goes down into the cellar. They are -always shapeless bits, shreds such as one might pick off with a small -pair of pincers. - -Having learnt what I want to know about the insect’s method of -warehousing its provisions, I leave it to its work, which continues for -the best part of the night. On the following days, nothing happens; the -Copris goes out no more. Enough treasure has been laid up in a single -night. Let us wait a while and leave her time to stow away her stuff as -she pleases. - -Before the week is out, I dig up the soil in my insect-house and bring -to light the burrow whose victualling I have been watching. As in the -fields, it is a spacious hall with an irregular, elliptic roof and an -almost level floor. In a corner is a round hole, similar to the orifice -in the neck of a bottle. This is the goods-entrance, opening on a -slanting gallery that runs up to the surface of the soil. The walls of -this house, which was hollowed out of fresh earth, have been carefully -compressed and are strong enough to resist any seismic disturbances -caused by my excavations. It is easy to see that the insect, toiling -for the future, has put forth all its skill, all its digging-powers, in -order to produce lasting work. The banqueting-tent may be a hole -hurriedly scooped out, with irregular and none too stable walls, but -the permanent dwelling is of larger dimensions and much more carefully -built. - -I suspect that both sexes have a share in this architectural -masterpiece; at least, I often come upon the pair in the burrows -destined for the laying of the eggs. The roomy and luxurious apartment -was no doubt once the wedding-hall; the marriage was consummated under -the mighty dome in the building of which the lover had cooperated: a -gallant way of declaring his passion. I also suspect him of lending his -partner a hand with the collecting and storing of the provisions. From -what I have gathered, he too, strong as he is, shares in this finicking -work, collects his armfuls and descends into the crypt. It is a quicker -job when there are two to help. But, once the home is well stocked, he -retires discreetly, makes his way back to the surface and goes and -settles down elsewhere, leaving the mother to her delicate task. His -part in the family-mansion is ended. - -Now what do we find in this mansion, to which we have seen so many tiny -loads of provisions lowered? A mass of small pieces, heaped together -anyhow? Not a bit of it. I always find a simple lump, a huge loaf which -fills the dwelling except for a narrow passage all round, just wide -enough to give the mother room to move. - -This sumptuous portion, a regular Twelfth-Night cake, has no fixed -shape. I come across some that are ovoid, suggesting a Turkey’s egg in -form and size; I find some that are a flattened ellipsoid, similar to -the common onion; I discover some that are almost round, reminding me -of a Dutch cheese; I see some that are circular with a slight swelling -on the upper surface, like the loaves of the Provençal peasant or, -better still, the egg-cake, the fougasso à l’iôu with which he -celebrates Easter. In every case the surface is smooth and nicely -curved. - -There is no mistaking what has happened: the mother has collected and -kneaded into one lump the numerous fragments brought down one after the -other; out of all those particles she has made a homogeneous thing, by -mashing them, working them together and treading on them. Time after -time I come across the baker on top of the colossal loaf which makes -the Sacred Beetle’s pill look so insignificant; she strolls about on -the convex surface, which sometimes measures as much as four inches -across; she pats the mass, makes it firm and level. I just catch sight -of the curious scene, for, the moment she is perceived, the pastry-cook -slips down the curved slope and hides away under her cake. - -For a further knowledge of the work, for a study of its innermost -detail, we shall have to resort to artifice. There is scarcely any -difficulty about it. Either my long practice with the Sacred Beetle has -made me more skilful in my methods of research, or else the Copris is -less reserved and bears the rigours of captivity more philosophically: -at any rate, I succeed, without the slightest trouble, in following all -the phases of the nest-making to my heart’s content. - -I employ two methods, each of them adapted for enlightening me on some -special points. Whenever the vivarium supplies me with a few large -cakes, I take these out of the burrows, together with the mother -Copris, and place them in my study. The receptacles are of two sorts, -according to whether I want light or darkness. In the former case, I -use glass jars with a diameter more or less the same as that of the -burrows, say four to five inches. At the bottom of each is a thin layer -of fresh sand, quite insufficient to allow the Copris to bury herself -in it, but still serving the purpose of sparing the insect the slippery -foothold of the actual glass and giving it the illusion of a soil -similar to that of which I have just deprived it. With this layer the -jar becomes a suitable cage for the mother and her loaf. - -I need hardly say that the startled insect would not undertake anything -while light prevailed, no matter how dim and tempered. It must have -complete darkness, which I produce by means of a cardboard sheath -enclosing the jar. By carefully raising this sheath a little, I can -surprise the captive at her work whenever I feel inclined, the light in -my study being a shaded one, and even watch operations for a time. The -reader will notice that this arrangement is much less complex than that -which I used when I wished to see the Sacred Beetle engaged in -modelling her pear, the simpler method being made possible by the -different temperament of the Copris, who is more easy-going than her -kinswoman. A dozen of these eclipsed appliances are thus arranged on my -large laboratory-table. Any one seeing them standing in a row would -take them for a collection of groceries in whity-brown paper bags. - -For my dark apparatus I use flower-pots filled with fresh, well-packed -sand. The mother and her cake occupy the lower part, which is adapted -as a niche by means of a cardboard screen forming a ceiling and -supporting the sand above. Or else I simply put the mother on the -surface of the sand with a supply of provisions. She digs herself a -burrow, does her warehousing, makes herself a home; and things follow -the usual course. In all cases I rely upon a sheet of glass, which does -duty as a lid, to keep my prisoners safe. These different devices will, -I trust, give me information on a delicate point of which I will say -more later. - -What do the glass jars covered with an opaque sheath teach us? A good -many things, all of them interesting, and this to begin with: the big -loaf does not owe its curve—which is always regular, no matter how much -the actual shape may vary—to any rolling process. Our inspection of the -natural burrow has already told us that so large a mass could not have -been rolled into a cavity of which it fills almost the whole space. -Besides, the strength of the insect would be unequal to moving so great -a load. - -From time to time I go to the jar for information and on every occasion -the same evidence is forthcoming. I see the mother, hoisted on top of -the lump, feeling here, feeling there, bestowing little taps, smoothing -away the projecting points, perfecting the thing; never do I catch her -looking as though she wanted to turn the block. It is clear as -daylight: rolling has nothing whatever to do with the matter. - -The dough-maker’s assiduity, her patient care make me suspect an -industrial detail whereof I was far from dreaming. Why so many -after-touches to the mass, why so long a wait before making use of it? -It is, in fact, a week or more before the insect, still busy with its -pressing and polishing, makes up its mind to do something with its -hoard. - -When the baker has kneaded his dough to the requisite extent, he -collects it into a single lump in a corner of the kneading-trough. The -leaven will work better in the depths of the voluminous mass. The -Copris knows this bakehouse secret. She heaps together all that she has -collected in her foraging; she carefully kneads the whole into a -provisional loaf and allows it time to improve by virtue of an internal -process that gives flavour to the paste and makes it of the right -consistency for subsequent manipulations. As long as this chemical -process remains unfinished, both the baker and the Copris wait. In the -case of the insect, it goes on for some time, a week at least. - -At last it is ready. The baker’s man divides his lump into smaller -lumps, each of which will become a loaf. The Copris does the same -thing. By means of a circular cut made with the sharp edge of her -forehead and the saw of her fore-legs, she detaches from the mass a -piece of the prescribed size. With this stroke there is no hesitation, -no after-touches adding a bit here and taking off a bit there. Straight -away and with one sharp, decisive cut, she obtains the proper-sized -lump. - -It now becomes a question of shaping it. Clasping it as best she can in -her short arms, so little adapted, one would think, to work of this -kind, the Copris rounds her lump of dough by means of pressure and of -pressure only. Gravely she moves about on the still shapeless pill, -climbs up, climbs down, turns to right and left, above and below; here -she methodically applies a little more pressure, there a little less, -touching and retouching with unvarying patience, and finally, after -twenty-four hours of it, the piece that was all corners has become a -perfect sphere, the size of a plum. There, in her crowded studio, with -scarcely room to move, the podgy artist has completed her work without -once shaking it on its base; by dint of time and patience she has -obtained the geometrical sphere which her clumsy tools and her confined -space seemed bound to deny her. - -For a long time the insect continues to touch up its globe, polishing -it affectionately, passing its foot gently to and fro until the least -protuberance has disappeared. These meticulous finishing touches seem -endless. Towards the end of the second day, however, the sphere is -pronounced satisfactory. The mother climbs to the dome of her edifice -and there, still by simple pressure, hollows out a shallow crater. In -this basin the egg is laid. - -Then, with extreme caution, with a delicacy that is most surprising -with such rough tools, the lips of the crater are brought together so -as to form a vaulted roof over the egg. The mother turns slowly, does a -little raking, draws the stuff upwards and finishes the -closing-process. This is the most ticklish work of all. A little too -much pressure, a miscalculated thrust might easily jeopardize the life -of the germ under its thin ceiling. - -Every now and then the mother suspends operations. Motionless, with -lowered forehead, she seems to be sounding the cavity beneath, to be -listening to what is happening inside. All’s well, it seems; and once -again she resumes her patient toil: the careful, delicate scraping of -the sides towards the summit, which begins to taper a little and -lengthen out. In this way an ovoid with the small end uppermost takes -the place of the original sphere. Under the more or less projecting -nipple is the hatching-chamber with the egg. Twenty-four hours more are -spent in this minute work. Total: four times round the clock and -sometimes longer to construct the sphere, scoop out a basin, lay the -egg and shut it in by transforming the sphere into an ovoid. - -The insect goes back to the cut loaf and helps itself to a second -slice, which, by the same manipulations as before, becomes an ovoid -tenanted by an egg. The surplus suffices for a third ovoid, sometimes -even for a fourth. I have never seen this number exceeded when the -mother had at her disposal only the materials which she had accumulated -in the burrow. - -The laying is over. Here is the mother in her retreat, which is almost -filled by the three or four cradles standing one against the other, -pointed end upwards. What will she do now? Go away, no doubt, to -recruit her strength a little in the open air after her prolonged fast. -He who thinks so is mistaken. She stays. And yet she has eaten nothing -since she came underground, taking good care not to touch the loaf, -which, divided into equal portions, will provide the sustenance of the -family. The Copris is touchingly scrupulous where the children’s -inheritance is concerned: she is a devoted mother, who braves hunger -rather than let her offspring suffer privation. - -She braves it for a second reason: to mount guard around the cradles. -From the end of June onwards the burrows are difficult to find, because -the mounds disappear through the action of storm or wind or the feet of -the passers-by. The few which I succeed in discovering always contain -the mother dozing beside a group of pills, in each of which a grub, now -nearing its complete development, feasts on the fat of the land. - -My dark appliances, flower-pots filled with fresh sand, confirm what -the fields have taught me. Buried with provisions in the first -fortnight in May, the mothers do not reappear on the surface, under the -glass lid. They keep hidden in the burrow after laying their eggs; they -spend the sultry dog-days with their ovoids, watching them, no doubt, -as the glass-jars, with their freedom from subterranean obscurity, tell -us. - -They come up again at the time of the first autumnal rains in -September. But by then the new generation has attained its perfect -form. The mother, therefore, enjoys in her underground home that rare -privilege for an insect, the joy of knowing her family; she hears her -children scratching at the shell to obtain their liberty; she is -present at the bursting of the casket which she has fashioned so -conscientiously; maybe she helps the exhausted weaklings when the -ground has not been cool enough to soften the walls. Mother and progeny -leave the underworld together; and together they arrive at the autumn -banquets, when the sun is mild and the ovine manna abounds along the -paths. - -The flower-pots teach us something else. I place on the surface a few -separate couples taken from their burrows at the outset of the -building-operations. They are given a generous supply of provisions. -Each couple buries itself, settles down and starts hoarding; then, -after ten days or so, the male reappears on the surface, under the -sheet of glass. The other does not stir an inch. The eggs are laid, the -food-balls are shaped, patiently rounded and grouped at the bottom of -the pot. And all the time, so that he may not disturb the mother in her -work, the father remains exiled from the gynæceum. He has climbed to -the surface with the intention of going and digging himself a shelter -elsewhere. Being unable to do so within the narrow confines of the pot, -he stays at the top, barely concealed from view by a modicum of sand or -a few scraps of food. A lover of darkness and of the cool underground -depths, he remains obstinately for three months exposed to the air and -drought and light; he refuses to go to earth, lest he should interfere -with the sacred things that are taking place below. The Copris shall -have a good mark for thus respecting the maternal apartments. - -Let us come back to the jars, where the events hidden from us by the -soil are to be enacted before our eyes. The three or four pills, each -with its egg, stand one against another and occupy almost the whole -enclosure, leaving only narrow passages. Of the original lump very -little remains, at the most a few crumbs, which come in handy when -appetite returns. But that does not worry the mother much. She is far -more concerned about her ovoids. - -Assiduously she goes from one to another, feels them, listens to them, -touches them up at points where my eye can perceive no flaw. Her -clumsy, horn-shod foot, more sensitive in darkness than my retina in -broad daylight, is perhaps discovering incipient cracks or defective -workmanship in the matter of consistency which must be attended to, in -order to prevent the air from entering and drying up the eggs. The -prudent mother therefore slips in and out of the narrow spaces between -the cradles, inspecting them carefully and remedying any accident, no -matter how trifling. If I disturb her, she sometimes rubs the tip of -her abdomen against the edge of her wing-cases, producing a soft -rustling noise, which is almost a murmur of complaint. Thus, between -scrupulous care and brief slumbers beside her group of cradles, the -mother passes the three months essential to the evolution of the -family. - -I seem to catch a glimpse of the reason for this long watch. The -pill-rollers, whether Scarabs or Gymnopleuri, never have more than a -single pear, a single ovoid in their burrows. The mass of foodstuff, -which at times is rolled from a great distance, is necessarily limited -by the insect’s own limitations of strength. It is enough for one -larva, but not enough for two. An exception must be made with respect -to the Broad-necked Scarab, who brings up her family very frugally and -divides her rolling booty into two modest portions. - -The others are obliged to dig a special burrow for each egg. When -everything is in order in the new establishment—and this does not take -long—they leave the underground vault and go off somewhere else, -wherever chance may lead them, to begin their pill-rolling, excavating -and egg-laying once more. With these nomadic habits, any prolonged -supervision on the mother’s part becomes impossible. - -The Scarab suffers by it. Her pear, which is magnificently regular at -the outset, soon shows cracks and becomes scaly and swollen. Various -cryptogams invade it and undermine it; the material expands and the -resultant splitting causes the pear to lose its shape. We have seen how -the grub combats these troubles. - -The Copris has other ways. She does not roll her stores from a -distance; she warehouses them on the spot, bit by bit, which enables -her to accumulate in a single burrow enough to satisfy all her brood. -As there is no need for further expeditions, the mother stays and keeps -watch. Under her never-failing vigilance, the pill does not crack, for -any crevice is stopped up as soon as it appears; nor does it become -covered with parasitic vegetation, for nothing can grow on a soil that -is constantly being raked. The two or three dozen ovoids which I have -before my eyes all bear witness to the mother’s watchfulness: not one -of them is split or cracked or infested with tiny fungi. In all of them -the surface is irreproachable. But, if I take them away from the mother -to put them into a bottle or tin, they suffer the same fate as the -Sacred Beetle’s pears: in the absence of supervision, destruction more -or less complete overtakes them. - -Two examples will be instructive to us here. I take from a mother two -or three pills and place them in a tin, which prevents them from -getting dry. Before a week has passed, they are covered with a fungous -vegetation. More or less everything grows in this fertile soil; the -lesser fungi delight in it. To-day it is an infinitesimal crystalline -plant swollen into a bobbin-shape, bristling with short, dew-beaded -hairs and ending in a little round head as black as jet. I have not the -leisure to consult books and microscope and give a name to the tiny -apparition which attracts my attention for the first time. This -botanical detail is of little importance: all that we need know is that -the dark green of the pills has disappeared under the thick white -crystalline growth stippled with black specks. - -I restore the two pills to the Copris keeping watch over her third. I -replace the opaque sheath and leave the insect undisturbed in the dark. -In an hour’s time or less, I look to see how things are getting on. The -parasitic vegetation has entirely disappeared, cut down, extirpated to -the last stalk. The magnifying-glass fails to reveal a trace of what, a -little while before, was a dense thicket. The insect has used its rake, -those notched legs, to some purpose; and the surface of the pill is -once more in the unblemished condition necessary for health. - -The other experiment is a more serious one. With the point of my -penknife I make a gash in a pill at the upper end and lay bare the egg. -Here we have an artificial breach not unlike those which might be -caused naturally, but of much greater size. I give back to the mother -the violated cradle, threatened with disaster unless she intervenes. -But she does intervene and that quickly, once darkness comes. The -ragged edges slit by the penknife are brought together and soldered. -The small amount of stuff lost is replaced by scrapings taken from the -sides. In a very short time the breach is so neatly repaired that not a -trace remains of my onslaught. - -I repeat it, making the danger graver and attacking all four pills with -my desecrating penknife, which cuts right through the hatching-chamber -and leaves the egg only an incomplete shelter under the gaping roof. -The mother’s counter-move is swift and effective. In one brief spell of -work everything is put right again. Yes, I can quite believe that with -this vigilant supervisor, who never sleeps except with one eye open, -there is no possibility of the cracks and the puffiness which so often -disfigure the Sacred Beetle’s pear. - -Four pills containing eggs are all that I have been able to obtain from -the big loaf which I took from the burrow at the time of the nuptials. -Does this mean that the Copris can lay only that number? I think so. I -even believe that usually there are less, three, two, or possibly only -one. My boarders, installed in separate potfuls of sand at -nesting-time, did not reappear on the surface once they had stored away -the necessary provisions; they never came out to dip into the -replenished stock and enable themselves to increase the always -restricted number of ovoids lying at the bottom of the pot under the -mother’s watchful care. - -This limitation of the family might very well be due partly to lack of -space. Three or four pills completely fill the burrow; there is no room -for more; and the mother, a stay-at-home alike from duty and -inclination, does not dream of digging another dwelling. It is true -that greater breadth in the one which she has would solve the problem -of room; but then a ceiling of excessive length would be liable to -collapse. Suppose I were myself to intervene, suppose I provided space -without the risk of the roof falling in, could there be an increase in -the number of eggs? - -Yes, the number is almost doubled. My trick is quite simple. In one of -the glass jars, I take away her three or four pills from a mother who -has just finished the last. None of the loaf remains. I substitute for -it one of my own making, kneaded with the tip of a paper-knife. A new -type of baker, I do over again very nearly what the insect did at the -beginning. Reader, do not smile at my baking: science shall give it the -odour of sanctity. - -My cake is favourably received by the Copris, who sets to work again, -starts laying anew and presents me with three of her perfect ovoids, -making seven in all, the greatest number that I obtained in my various -attempts of this kind. A large piece of the bun remains available. The -Copris does not utilize it, at least not for nest-building; she eats -it. The ovaries appear to be exhausted. This much is proved: the -pillaging of the burrow provides space; and the mother, taking -advantage of it, nearly doubles the number of her eggs with the aid of -the cake which I make for her. - -Under natural conditions nothing of a similar kind can happen. There is -no obliging baker at hand, to shape and pat a new cake and slip it into -the oven that is the Copris’ cellar. Everything therefore tells us that -the stay-at-home Beetle, who makes up her mind not to reappear until -the cool autumn days, is of very limited bearing-capacity. Her family -consists of three or four at most. Occasionally, in the dog-days, long -after laying-time is past, I have even dug up a mother watching over a -solitary pill. This one, perhaps for lack of provisions, had reduced -her maternal joys to the narrowest limits. - -The loaves kneaded with my paper-knife are readily accepted. We will -take advantage of this fact to make a few experiments. Instead of the -big, substantial cake, I fashion a pill which is a replica in shape and -size of the three or four which the mother is guarding after confiding -the egg to them. My imitation is a fairly good one. If I were to mix up -the two products, the natural and the artificial, I might easily fail -to distinguish between them afterwards. The counterfeit pill is placed -in the jar, beside the other. The disturbed insect at once hides in a -corner, under a little sand. I leave it in peace for a couple of days. -Then how great is my surprise to find the mother on the top of my pill, -digging a cup into it! In the afternoon the egg is laid and the cup -closed. I can only tell my pill from those of the Copris by the place -which it occupies. I had put it at the extreme right of the group, and -at the extreme right I find it, duly operated on by the insect. How -could the Beetle know that this ovoid, so like the others in every -respect, was untenanted? How did she allow herself unhesitatingly to -scoop the top into a crater when, judging by appearances, there might -be an egg just underneath? She takes good care not to do any fresh -excavating on the finished pills. What guide leads her to the -artificial one, which is extremely deceptive in appearance, and bids -her dig into that? - -I do it again and yet again. The result is the same: the mother does -not confuse her work with mine and takes advantage of the presence of -my pill to install an egg in it. On only one occasion, when her -appetite seems suddenly to have come back, did I see her feeding on my -loaf. But her discrimination between the tenanted and the untenanted -was just as clearly marked here as in the previous instance. Instead of -attacking, in her hunger, the pills with eggs, by what miracle of -divination does she turn, in spite of their exact outward similarity, -to the pill which contains nothing? - -Can my handiwork be defective? Did the wooden blade not press hard -enough to impart the proper consistency? Is there something wrong with -the dough as the result of insufficient kneading? These are delicate -questions, of which I, who am no expert in this kind of confectionery, -am not competent to judge. Let us have recourse to a master of the -pastry-cook’s art. I borrow from the Sacred Beetle the pill which he is -beginning to roll in the vivarium. I choose a small one, of the size -affected by the Copris. True, it is round; but the Copris’ pills also -are pretty often round, even after receiving the egg. - -Well, the Sacred Beetle’s loaf, that loaf of irreproachable quality, -kneaded by the king of bread-makers, meets with the same fate as mine. -At one time it is provided with an egg, at another it is eaten, while -no accident ever happens by inadvertence to the exactly similar pills -kneaded by the Copris. - -That the insect, finding itself in this mixed assembly, should rip open -what is still inanimate matter and respect what is already a cradle, -that it should discriminate between the lawful and the unlawful, in -circumstances such as these, seems to me incapable of explanation, if -there be no guide but senses resembling our own. It is useless to say -that it is a case of sight: the Beetle works in absolute darkness. Even -if she worked in the light, that would not lessen the difficulty. The -shape and appearance of the pill are alike in both instances; the -clearest sight would be at fault once the pills were mixed up. - -It is impossible to suggest that smell has anything to do with it: the -substance of the pill does not vary; it is always the produce of the -Sheep. Impossible likewise to say that she is exercising the sense of -touch. What delicacy of touch can there be under a coat of horn? -Besides, the most exquisite sensitiveness would be required. Even if we -admit that the insect’s feet, particularly the tarsi, or the palpi, or -the antennæ, or anything you please, possess a certain faculty for -distinguishing between hard and soft, rough and smooth, round and -angular, still our experiment with the Sacred Beetle’s sphere warns us -to look where we are going. There surely we had the exact equivalent of -the Copris’ sphere—made of the same materials, kneaded to the same -consistency, given the same outline—and yet the Copris makes no -mistake. - -To drag the sense of taste into the problem would be absurd. There -remains that of hearing. Later on, I might not deny the possibility -that this has something to do with it. When the larva is hatched, the -mother, ever attentive, might conceivably hear it nibbling the wall of -the cell, but for the present the chamber contains merely an egg; and -an egg is always silent. - -Then what other means does the mother possess, I will not say of -thwarting my machinations—the problem is on a loftier plane and animals -are not endowed with special aptitudes in order to dodge an -experimenter’s wiles—what other means does she possess of obviating the -difficulties attendant upon her normal labours? Do not lose sight of -this: she begins by shaping a sphere; and the globular mass often does -not differ from the pills that have received the egg, in respect of -either form or size. - -Nowhere is there peace, not even below ground. When, in a moment of -panic, the too-timid mother falls off her sphere and forsakes it to -seek refuge elsewhere, how can she afterwards find her ball again and -distinguish it from the others, without running the risk of crushing an -egg when she is pressing in the top of a pill to make the necessary -crater? She needs a safe guide here. What is that guide? I do not know. - -I have said it many a time and I say it again: insects possess -sense-faculties of exquisite delicacy attuned to their special trade, -faculties of which we can form no conception because we have nothing -similar within ourselves. A man blind from birth can have no notion of -colour. We are as men blind from birth in the face of the unfathomable -mysteries that surround us; and myriads of questions arise to which no -answer can ever be given. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE SPANISH COPRIS: THE HABITS OF THE MOTHER - - -There are two special points to be remembered in the life-history of -the Spanish Copris: the rearing of her family; and her pill-rolling -talents. - -First, the output of her ovaries is extremely limited; and nevertheless -her race thrives just as much as that of many others whose seed is -numerous. Maternal care makes up for the small number of her eggs. -Prolific layers, after making a few rough and ready arrangements, -abandon their progeny to luck, which often sacrifices a thousand in -order to preserve one; they are factories turning out organic matter -for life’s comprehensive maw. Almost as soon as hatched, or even before -hatching, their offspring for the most part perish devoured. -Extermination makes short work of superfluity in the interests of the -community at large. That which was destined to live lives, but under -another form. These excessive breeders know and can know nothing of -maternal affection. - -The Copres have other and fundamentally different habits. Three or four -eggs represent their entire posterity. How are they to be preserved, to -a great extent, from the accidents that await them? For them, so few in -numbers, as for the others, whose name is legion, existence is an -inexorable struggle. The mother knows it and, in order to save her -nearest and dearest, sacrifices herself, giving up outdoor pleasures, -nocturnal flights and that supreme delight of her race, the -investigation of a fresh heap of dung. Hidden underground, by the side -of her brood, she never leaves her nursery. She keeps watch; she -brushes off the parasitic growths; she closes up the cracks; she drives -off any ravagers that may appear: Acari, [34] tiny Staphylini, [35] -grubs of small Flies, Aphodii, [36] Onthophagi. [37] In September she -climbs to the surface with her family, which, having no further use for -her, emancipates itself and henceforth lives as it pleases. No bird -could be a more devoted mother. - -Secondly, the Copris’ abrupt transformation at laying-time into an -expert pill-maker provides us, in so far as we are able to get at the -truth, with a proof of the theorem which I was almost afraid to -formulate just now. Here is a Beetle not equipped for the pill-roller’s -art, an art moreover which is not required for her individual -prosperity. She has no aptitude, no propensity for kneading the food -which she buries and consumes as she finds it; she is totally ignorant -of the sphere and its properties in connection with food-preservation; -and, all of a sudden, in obedience to an inspiration for which nothing, -in the ordinary course of her life, has prepared the way, she moulds -into a sphere or ovoid the legacy which she bequeaths to her grub. With -her short, clumsy fore-leg she shapes the viaticum of her offspring -into a skilful solid mass. The difficulty is great. It is overcome by -dint of application and patience. In two days, or three at most, the -round cradle is perfected. How does the dumpy creature go to work to -achieve mathematical exactness in her ball? The Sacred Beetle has her -long legs, which serve as compasses; the Gymnopleurus has similar -tools. But the Copris, unprovided with the spread of limb which would -enable her to encircle the object, finds nothing in her equipment that -favours the formation of a sphere. Perched upon her ovoid, she labours -at it bit by bit with an intensity that makes up for her defective -implements; she estimates the correctness of its curve by assiduous -tactile examinations from one end to the other. Perseverance triumphs -over clumsiness and achieves what at first seemed impossible. - -Here all my readers will assail me with the same questions: why this -abrupt change in the insect’s habits? Why this indefatigable patience -in a form of work that bears no relation to the tools at hand? And what -is the use of this ovoid shape whose perfection demands so great an -outlay of time? - -To these queries I see only one possible reply: the preservation of the -foodstuffs in a fresh condition demands the globular form. Remember -this: the Copris builds her nest in June; her larva develops during the -dog-days; it lies a few inches below the surface of the ground. In the -cavern, which is now a furnace, the provisions would soon become -uneatable, if the mother did not give them the shape least susceptible -to evaporation. Very different from the Sacred Beetle in habits and -structure but exposed to the same dangers in her larval state, the -Copris, in order to ward off the peril, adopts the principles of the -great pill-roller, principles whose surpassing wisdom we have already -made manifest. - -I would ask the philosophers to ponder upon these five manufacturers of -preserved meats and the numerous rivals which they doubtless possess in -other climes. I submit to them these inventors of the largest possible -box with the smallest possible surface for provisions liable to dry; -and I ask them how such logical inspirations and so much rational -foresight can take birth in the obscure brain of the lower orders of -creation. - -Let us come down to plain facts. The Copris’ pill is a more or less -pronounced ovoid, sometimes differing but slightly from a sphere in -shape. It is not quite so pretty as the work of the Gymnopleurus, which -is very nearly pear-shaped, or at least reminds one of a bird’s egg, -notably a Sparrow’s, because of the similarity in size. The Copris’ -work is more like the egg of a nocturnal bird of prey, of any member of -the Owl family, as its projecting end does not stand out conspicuously. - -From this pole to the other the ovoid measures, on an average, forty -millimetres, by thirty-four across. [38] Its whole surface is tightly -packed, hardened by pressure, converted into a crust with a little -earth grained into it. At the projecting end, an attentive eye will -discover a ring bristling with short straggling threads. Once the egg -is laid in the cup into which the original sphere is hollowed, the -mother, as I have already said, gradually brings the edges of the -cavity together. This produces the projecting end. To complete the -closing, she delicately rakes the ovoid and scrapes a little of the -material upwards. This forms the ceiling of the hatching-chamber. At -the top of this ceiling, which, if it fell in, would destroy the egg, -the pressure is very slight indeed, leaving an area devoid of rind and -covered with bits of thread. Immediately under this circle, which is a -sort of porous felt, lies the hatching-chamber, the egg’s little cell, -which easily admits air and warmth. - -Like the Sacred Beetle’s egg and those of other Dung-beetles, the -Copris’ egg at once attracts attention by its size, but it grows much -larger before hatching, increasing two- or threefold in bulk. Its moist -chamber, saturated with the emanations from the provisions, supplies it -with nourishment. Through the chalky porous shell of the bird’s egg, an -exchange of gases takes place, a respiratory process which quickens -matter while consuming it. This is a cause of destruction as well as of -life: the sum total of the contents does not increase under the -inflexible wrapper; on the contrary, it diminishes. - -Things happen otherwise in the Copris’ egg, as in the other -Dung-beetles’. We still, no doubt, find the vivifying assistance of the -air; but there is also an accession of new materials which come to add -to the reserves furnished by the ovary. Endosmosis causes the -exhalations of the chamber to penetrate through a very delicate -membrane, so much so that the egg is fed, swells and enlarges to thrice -its original volume. If we have failed to follow this progressive -growth attentively, we are quite surprised at the extraordinary final -size, which is out of all proportion to that of the mother. - -This nourishment lasts a fairly long time, for the hatching takes from -fifteen to twenty days. Thanks to the added substance with which the -egg has been enriched, the larva is already pretty big when born. We -have not here the weakly grub, the animated speck which many insects -show us, but a pretty little creature, at once sturdy and tender, -which, happy at being alive, arches its back and frisks and rolls about -in its nest. - -It is satin-white, with a touch of straw-colour on its skull-cap. I -find the terminal trowel plainly marked: I mean that slanting plane -with the scalloped edge whereof the Sacred Beetle has already shown us -the use when some breach in the cell needs repairing. The implement -tells us the future trade. You also, my attractive little grub, will -become a knapsacked excreter, a fervent plasterer manipulating the -stucco supplied by the intestines. But first I will subject you to an -experiment. - -Now what are your first mouthfuls? As a rule I see the walls of your -nest shining with a greenish, semifluid wash, a sort of thinly-spread -jam. Is this a special dish intended for your delicate baby stomach? Is -it a childish dainty disgorged by the mother? I used to think so when I -first began to study the Sacred Beetle. To-day, after seeing a similar -wash in the cells of the various Dung-beetles, including the uncouth -Geotrupes, [39] I wonder whether it is not rather the result of a mere -exudation accumulating on the walls in a sort of dew, the fluid -quintessence filtering through the porous matter. - -The Copris mother lent herself to observation better than any of the -others. I have many times surprised her at the moment when, hoisted on -her round pill, she excavates the top in the form of a cup; and I have -never seen anything that at all suggests a disgorgement. The cavity of -the bowl, which I lose no time in examining, is just like the rest. -Perhaps I have missed the favourable moment. In any case, I can take -only a brief glance at the mother’s occupations: all work ceases as -soon as I raise the cardboard sheath to give light. Under these -conditions the secret might escape me indefinitely. Let us look at the -difficulty from another angle and enquire whether some special -milk-food, elaborated in the mother’s stomach, is necessary for the -infant larva. - -In one of my cages I rob a Sacred Beetle of her round pill, lately -fashioned and briskly rolled. I strip it at one point of its earthy -layer and into this clean point I drive the blunt end of a pencil, -making a hole a third of an inch deep. I install a newly-hatched -Copris-grub in it. The youngster has not yet taken the least -refreshment. It is lodged in a cell which in no respect differs from -the rest of the mass. There is no creamy coating, whether disgorged by -the mother or merely oozing through. What will result from this change -of quarters? - -Nothing untoward. The larva develops and thrives quite as well as in -its native cell. Therefore, when I first started, I was the victim of -an illusion. The delicate wash which nearly always covers the -egg-chamber in the Dung-beetles’ work is simply an exudation. The grub -may be all the better for it, when taking its first mouthfuls; but it -is not indispensable. To-day’s experiment confirms the fact. - -The grub subjected to this test was put into an open pit. Things cannot -remain in this condition. The absence of ceiling is irksome to the -young larva, which loves darkness and tranquillity. How will it set to -work to build its roof? The mortar-trowel cannot be used as yet, for -materials are lacking in the knapsack which so far has done no -digesting. - -Novice though it be, the little grub has its resources. Since it cannot -be a plasterer, it becomes a bricklayer. With its legs and mandibles it -removes particles from the walls of its cell and comes and places them -one by one on the rim of the well. The defensive work makes rapid -progress and the assembled atoms form a vault. It has no strength about -it, I admit; the dome falls in if I merely breathe on it. But soon the -first mouthfuls will be swallowed; the intestines will fill; and, well -supplied, the grub will come and consolidate the work by injecting -mortar into the interstices. Properly cemented, the frail awning -becomes a solid ceiling. - -Let us leave the tiny grub in peace and consult other larvæ which have -attained half their full growth. With the point of my penknife I pierce -the pill at the upper end; I open a window a few millimetres square. -The grub at once appears at the casement, anxiously enquiring into the -disaster. It rolls itself over in the cell and returns to the opening, -this time, however, presenting its wide, padded trowel. A jet of mortar -is discharged over the breach. The product is a little too much diluted -and of inferior quality. It runs, it flows in all directions, it does -not set quickly. A fresh ejaculation follows and another and yet -another, in swift succession. Useless pains! In vain the plasterer -tries again, in vain it struggles, gathering the trickling material -with its legs and mandibles: the hole refuses to close. The mortar is -still too fluid. - -Poor, desperate thing, why don’t you copy your young sister? Do what -the little larva did just now: build an awning with particles taken -from the wall of your house; and your liquid putty will do well on that -spongy scaffolding! The large grub, trusting to its trowel, does not -think of that method. It exhausts itself, without any appreciable -result, in trying to effect repairs which the little grub managed most -ingeniously. What the baby knew how to do the big larva no longer -knows. - -Insect industry has instances like this of professional methods -employed at certain periods and then abandoned and utterly forgotten. A -few days more or less make changes in the creature’s talents. The tiny -grub, devoid of cement, has bricks to fall back upon: the big larva, -rich in putty, scorns to build, or rather no longer knows how, though -it is even better-endowed than the youngster with the necessary tools. -The strong one no longer remembers what as a weakling he so well knew -how to do, only a few days before. A poor power of recollection, if -indeed there be such a power under that flat skull! However, in the -long run and thanks to the evaporation of the ejected materials, the -short-memoried plumber ends by stopping up the window. Nearly half a -day has been spent in trowel-work. - -The idea occurs to me to try whether the mother will come to the -distressed one’s aid in like circumstances. We have seen her diligently -restoring the ceiling which I smashed above the egg. Will she do for -the big grub what she did for the sake of the germ? Will she repair the -torn pill in which the plasterer is helplessly floundering? - -To make the experiment more conclusive, I select pills that do not -belong to the mother entrusted with the work of restoration. I picked -them up in the fields. They are far from regular, are all dented -because of the stony soil on which they lay, a soil not easily -convertible into a roomy workshop and consequently unsuited to exact -geometry. They are moreover encrusted with a reddish rind, due to the -ferruginous sand in which I packed them in order to avoid dangerous -jolting on the road. In short, they differ a good deal from those -elaborated in a jar, with plenty of space around them and on a clean -support, pills which are perfect ovoids, free from earthy stains. In -the top of two of them I make an opening which the grub, faithful to -its methods, at once strives to stop up, but without success. One, -stored away under a bell-glass, will serve me as a witness. The other I -place in a jar where the mother is watching her cradles, two splendid -ovoids. - -I have not long to wait. An hour later I raise the cardboard screen. -The Copris is on the strange pill and so busily engaged that she pays -no attention to the daylight admitted. In other, less urgent -circumstances, she would at once have slipped down and taken shelter -from the troublesome light; this time, she does not move and -imperturbably continues her work. Before my eyes she rakes away the red -crust and uses the scrapings from the cleansed surface to spread over -and solder the breach. It is hermetically sealed in a very short space -of time. I stand amazed at the insect’s skill. - -Well, while the Copris is restoring a pill that does not belong to her, -what is the grub that owns the other doing in the bell-glass? It -continues to kick about hopelessly, vainly lavishing cement that is -incapable of setting. Put to the test in the morning, it does not -succeed until the afternoon in closing the aperture; and then the job -is anything but well done. The borrowed mother, on the other hand, has -not taken twenty minutes to remedy the accident most excellently. - -She does even more. After the most important part is finished and the -afflicted grub succoured, she stands all day, all night and the next -day on the newly-closed pill. She brushes it daintily with her tarsi to -get rid of the layer of earth; she obliterates the dents, smooths the -rough places and adjusts the curve, until from a shapeless and soiled -pill it becomes an ovoid vying in precision with those which she had -already manufactured in her glass jar. - -Such care bestowed upon a strange grub deserves attention. I must go -on. I slip into the jar a second pill, similar to the foregoing, -ruptured at the top, with an opening larger than on the first occasion, -one about a sixteenth of an inch square. The greater the difficulty, -the more praiseworthy will the restoration be. - -It is, indeed, difficult to close. The grub, a fat baby, is wildly -gesticulating and excreting through the window. Leaning over the hole, -its new mother seems to console it. She is like a nurse bending over -the cradle. Meanwhile her helpful legs are working with a will, -scratching around the yawning aperture to obtain the wherewithal to -stop it. But the materials, half-dried this time, are hard and -unyielding. They are slow in coming; and the quantity is too small for -so big a hole. No matter: what with the grub continuing to shoot forth -its putty and the other mixing it with her own scrapings, to give it -consistency, and afterwards spreading it, the opening closes up. - -The thankless task has taken a whole afternoon. It is a good lesson for -me. I shall be more careful in future. I shall choose softer pills and, -instead of opening them by removing the materials, I shall simply lift -the wall by shreds until the grub is laid bare. The mother will only -have to flatten down those shreds and solder them together. - -I act accordingly with a third pill, which is very neatly repaired in a -short time. Not a trace remains of the ravages caused by my penknife. I -continue in the same way with a fourth, a fifth and so on, at intervals -long enough to give the mother a rest. I stop when the receptacle is -full, looking like a pot of plums. The contents amount to twelve -pieces, of which ten have come from the outside, all ten violated by my -penknife and all restored to good condition by the foster-mother. - -There are some interesting sidelights to this curious experiment, which -I could have continued if the capacity of the jar had permitted. The -Copris’ zeal, which was not lessened after the restoring of so many -ruins, and her diligence, which was the same at the end as in the -beginning, tell me that I had not exhausted the maternal solicitude. -Let us leave it at that; it is amply sufficient. - -Observe first the arrangement of the pills. Three are enough to occupy -the floor-space of the enclosure. The others are therefore gradually -superposed in layers, making in the end a four-story structure. The -whole forms an irregular pile, an absolute labyrinth with very narrow, -winding lanes, through which the insect glides with some difficulty. -When her household is in order, the mother stays below, under the pile, -touching the sand. It is at this moment that a new broken cell is -introduced, right at the top of the pile, on the third or fourth floor. -Let us put back the screen, wait a few minutes and then go back to the -jar. - -The mother is there, hoisted on the torn pill and doing her utmost to -close it. How was she informed on the ground-floor of what was -happening in the attic? How did she know that a larva up there was -calling for her assistance? The babe in distress screams and the nurse -comes running up. The grub says nothing; it makes no sound. Its -desperate gesticulations are not accompanied by any noise. And the -watcher hears this mute appeal. She notices the silence, she sees the -invisible. I am bewildered, every one would be bewildered by the -mystery of these perceptions which are so foreign to our nature and -which ‘topsy turvy the understanding,’ as Montaigne would say. Let us -pass on. - -I have described elsewhere [40] the brutality with which the Bee, that -most gifted of insects, treats the eggs of her fellows. Osmiæ, -Chalicodomæ and others perpetrate atrocities at times. In a moment of -vengeance or of that inexplicable aberration which occurs after the -laying is finished, a sister’s egg, savagely torn from the cell with -the pincers of the mandibles, is flung into the dust-bin. The thing is -pitilessly crushed, is ripped open, is even eaten. How different from -the good-natured Copris! - -Shall we attribute altruism among families to the Dung-beetle? Shall we -do her the signal honour of allowing that she administers relief to -foundlings? That would be madness. The mother who so diligently assists -the children of others thinks, beyond a doubt, that she is working for -her own. The victim of my experiment had two pills that belonged to -her; my intervention gave her ten more. And, in the jar filled with -prunes to the top, her assiduous care draws no distinction between the -real household and the casual family. Her intellect therefore is -incapable of the most elementary conception of quantity; she cannot -even distinguish between the singular and the plural, the few and the -many. - -Can it be because of the darkness? No, for my frequent visits give the -Copris an opportunity, when the opaque screen is lifted, of looking -around her and discovering the strange accumulation, that is if light -be really the guide which she lacks. Besides, has she not another means -of information? In the natural burrow, the pills, three or at most four -in number, all lie on the ground, forming one row only. With my -additions they pile up into four stories. - -In order to clamber to the top, in order to hoist herself up through -such a maze as never Copris mansion knew before, the Beetle must rub -against and touch the units of the heap. But she counts none the better -for that. To the insect all this is just the home, is just the family, -worthy of the same care at the summit as at the base. The twelve -produced by my trickery and the two of her own laying are the same -thing in her arithmetic. - -I present this strange mathematician to any one who comes and talks to -me of a glimmer of reason in the insect, as Darwin claimed. It is one -of two things: either this glimmer does not exist, or else the Copris -reasons divinely and becomes a St. Vincent de Paul of insects, moved to -pity by the sad lot of the homeless. Make your choice. - -It is possible that, rather than abandon the principle, men will not -shrink from sheer folly and that the compassionate Copris will one day -figure in the evolutionists’ Book of Moral Deeds. Why not? Does it not -already, with an eye to the same argument, contain a certain -tender-hearted Boa Constrictor who, on losing his master, lay down and -died of grief? Oh, the fond reptile! These edifying stories, compiled -with the object of tracing man back to the Gorilla, procure me a few -moments of mild amusement when I come across them. But we will not -labour the point. - -Better that you and I, friend Copris, should speak of things that do -not raise storms. Would you mind telling me the reason of the -reputation which you enjoyed in the days of antiquity? Ancient Egypt -extolled you in pink granite and porphyry; she venerated you, O my fair -horned one, and awarded you honours similar to the Scarab’s! You ranked -second in the entomological hierarchy. - -Horapollo tells us of two Sacred Beetles with horns. One sported a -single specimen on her head, the other had two. The first is you, the -inmate of my glass jars, or at least some one very like you. If Egypt -had known what you have just taught me, she would certainly have placed -you above the Scarab, that roving pill-roller who deserts her home and -leaves her family, after it has received its inheritance, to shift for -itself as best it can. Knowing nothing of your wonderful habits, which -history is noting for the first time, she deserves all the greater -praise for having divined your merits. - -The second, the one with two horns, would, according to the experts, -appear to be the insect which the naturalists call the Isis Copris. I -know her only in effigy, but her image is so striking that I sometimes -catch myself dreaming late in life, just as I did in my youth, of going -down to Nubia and exploring the banks of the Nile, in order to -cross-examine, under some lump of Camel-dung, the insect that is -emblematic of Isis the divine brooder, nature made fruitful by Osiris, -the sun. - -Oh, simpleton! Attend to your cabbages, sow your turnips: that won’t do -you any harm; water your lettuces; and understand, once and for all, -how vain are all our questionings when it is simply a matter of -enquiring into a muck-raker’s sagacity! Be less ambitious; confine -yourself to setting down facts. - -So be it. There is nothing striking to be said of the larva, which is a -replica of the Sacred Beetle’s, save for some minute details which do -not interest us here. It has the same hump in the middle of its back, -the same slanting truncature of the last segment, expanding into a -trowel on the upper surface. A ready excreter, it understands, though -less thoroughly than the other, the art of stopping up breaches to -protect itself from draughts. The larval state covers a period of four -to six weeks. - -At the end of July the nymph appears, first amber-yellow all over, next -currant-red on the head, horn, corselet, breast and legs, while the -wing-cases have the pale hue of gum arabic. A month later, by the end -of August, the perfect insect releases itself from its mummy wrappers. -Its costume, now wrought upon by delicate chemical changes, is quite as -strange as that of the new-born Sacred Beetle. Head, corselet, breast -and legs are chestnut-red. The horn, the epistoma and the -denticulations of the fore-legs are shaded with brown. The wing-cases -are a rather yellowish white. The abdomen is white, excepting only the -anal segment, which is an even brighter red than the thorax. I perceive -this early colouring of the anal segment, while the rest of the abdomen -is still quite pale, in the Sacred Beetles, the Gymnopleuri, the -Onthophagi, the Geotrupes, the Cetoniæ [41] and many others. Whence -this precocity? One more note of interrogation which will long stand -awaiting a reply. - -A fortnight passes. The costume becomes ebon-black, the cuirass -hardens. The insect is ready for the emergence. We are at the end of -September; the earth has drunk in a few showers which soften the -stubborn shell and allow of an easy deliverance. This is the moment, -prisoners mine. If I have teased you a little, at least I have kept you -in plenty. Your shells have hardened in your cages and have become -caskets which your own efforts will never succeed in forcing open. I -will come to your aid. Let us describe in detail how things happen. - -Once the burrow is supplied with the voluminous loaf out of which three -or four pilular rations are to be carved, the mother does not appear -outside again. Besides, there is no provision made for her. The heap -stored away below is the family cake, the exclusive patrimony of the -grubs, who will receive equal shares. For four months, therefore, the -recluse is without food of any kind. - -It is a voluntary privation. Victuals are there, within reach, copious -and of superior quality; but they are intended for the larvæ and the -mother will take good care not to touch them: anything abstracted for -her own use would mean so much less for the grubs. Gluttonous at the -outset, when there was no family to consider, she now becomes very -abstemious, even to the point of prolonged fasting. The Hen sitting on -her eggs forgets to eat for some weeks; the watchful Copris mother -forgets it during a third part of the year. The Dung-beetle outdoes the -bird in maternal self-abnegation. - -Now what does this self-sacrificing mother do underground? To what -household cares can she devote the period of so long a fast? My -appliances provide a satisfactory answer. I possess, as I have said, -two kinds. One consists of glass jars with a thin layer of sand and a -cardboard case to create darkness; the other of large pots filled with -earth and closed with a pane of glass. - -At any moment when I raise the opaque sheath of the first, I find the -mother now perched upon the top of her ovoids, now on the ground, -half-erect, smoothing the bulging curve with her fore-leg. On rarer -occasions, she is dozing in the midst of the heap. - -The manner in which she employs her time is obvious. She watches her -treasure of pills; her inquisitive antennæ sound them to discover what -is happening inside; she listens to the nurselings growing; she touches -up faulty spots; she polishes and repolishes the surfaces in order to -delay the desiccation within until the development of the inmates is -complete. - -These scrupulous cares, cares occupying every moment, have results -which would strike the attention of the least-experienced observer. The -egg-shaped vessels, or better the cradles of the nursery, are wonderful -in their regular curves and in their neatness. We see none of those -chinks with a blob of putty showing through, none of those cracks, of -those peeling scales, in short none of those defects which, towards the -end, nearly always disfigure the Sacred Beetle’s pears, handsome though -they be at the start. - -The horned Dung-beetle’s caskets could not be better shaped, even after -they are thoroughly dried up, if they had been worked in plaster by a -modeller. What pretty, dark-bronze eggs they are, rivalling the Owl’s -in size and form! This irreproachable perfection, maintained until the -shell is burst by the emerging larva, is obtained only by incessant -touching up, interspersed at long intervals with periods of rest during -which the mother composes herself for a nap at the foot of the heap. - -The glass jars leave room for doubt. It is possible to say that the -insect, imprisoned in an impassable enclosure, stays in the midst of -its pills because it is unable to go elsewhere. I agree; but there -remains that work of polishing and of continual inspection about which -the mother need not trouble at all if these cares did not form part of -her habits. Were she solely anxious to recover her liberty, she ought -to be roaming restlessly all round the enclosure, whereas I always see -her very quiet and absorbed. The only evidence of her excitement, when -the raising of the cardboard cylinder suddenly produces daylight, is -that she lets herself slide from the top of a pill and hides in the -heap. If I moderate the light, composure is soon restored and she -resumes her position on the summit, there to continue the work which my -visit interrupted. - -For the rest, the evidence of the apparatus that is always in darkness -is conclusive. The mother buried herself in June in the sand of my pots -with copious provisions, which are soon converted into a certain number -of pills. She is at liberty to return to the surface when she pleases. -She will there find broad daylight under the big sheet of glass which -ensures me against her escape; she will find food, which I renew from -time to time in order to entice her. - -Well, neither the daylight nor the food, desirable though this must -seem to be after a fast so long extended, is able to tempt her. Nothing -stirs in my pots, nothing rises to the surface until the rains come. - -It is exceedingly probable that exactly the same thing happens -underground as in the jars. To make certain, I inspect some of my -appliances at different periods. I always find the mother beside her -pills, in a spacious cave which gives free play to the watcher’s -evolutions. She could go lower down in the sand and hide anywhere she -pleased, if rest is what she wants; she could climb outside and sit -down to fresh victuals, if refreshment became necessary. Neither the -prospects of rest in a deeper crypt nor the thought of the sun and of -nice soft rolls make her leave her family. Until the last of her -offspring has burst his shell, she sticks to her post in the -birth-chamber. - -It is now October. The rains so greatly desired by man and beast have -come at last, soaking the ground to some depth. After the torrid and -dusty days of summer, when life is in suspense, we have the coolness -that revives it, we have the last festival of the year. In the midst of -the heath putting out its first pink bells, the oronge [42] splits its -white purse and comes into view, looking like the yolk of an egg half -deprived of its albumen; the massive purple boletus turns blue under -the heel of the passer-by who crushes it; the autumnal squill lifts its -little spike of lilac flowers; the strawberry-tree’s coral balls begin -to soften. - -This tardy springtime has its echoes underground. The vernal -generations, Sacred Beetles and Gymnopleuri, Onthophagi and Copres, -hasten to burst their shells softened by the damp and come to the -surface to take part in the gaieties of the last fine weather. - -My captives are denied the friendly shower. The cement of their -caskets, baked by the summer heat, is too hard to yield. The file of -the shield and legs would make no impression on it. I come to the poor -things’ assistance. A carefully graduated watering replaces the natural -rain in my glass and earthenware pots. To ascertain once more the -effects of water on the Dung-beetles’ deliverance, I leave a few of the -receptacles in the state of dryness for which they have to thank the -dog-days. - -The result of my sprinkling soon becomes apparent. In a few days’ time, -now in one jar, now in another, the pills, properly softened, open and -fall to pieces under the prisoner’s efforts. The new-born Copris -appears and sits down, with his mother, to the food which I have placed -at his disposal. - -When the hermit, stiffening his legs and humping his back, tries to -split the ceiling that presses down on him, does the mother come to his -assistance by delivering an assault from the outside? It is quite -possible. The watcher, hitherto so careful of her brood, so attentive -to what is happening within the pills, can hardly fail to hear the -sounds made by the captive in his struggles to emerge. - -We have seen her indefatigably stopping the holes caused by my -indiscretion; we have seen her, often enough, restoring for the grub’s -greater safety the pill which I had opened with my penknife. Fitted by -instinct for repairing and building, why should she not be fitted for -demolishing? However, I will make no assertions, for I have been unable -to see. The favourable conditions always escaped me: I came either too -late or too early. And then let us not forget that the admission of -light usually interrupts the work. - -In the darkness of the sand-filled pots, the liberation must take place -in the same way. All that I am able to witness is the insect’s -emergence above ground. Attracted by the smell of fresh provisions -which I have served on the threshold of the burrow, the newly-released -family emerge gradually, accompanied by the mother, wander round for a -time under the pane of glass and then attack the pile. - -There are three or four of them, five at most. The sons are easily -recognized by the greater length of their horns; but there is nothing -to distinguish the daughters from the mother. For that matter, the same -confusion prevails among themselves. An abrupt change of attitude has -taken place; and the erstwhile devoted mother is now utterly -indifferent to the welfare of her emancipated family. Henceforward each -looks after his own home and his own interests. They no longer know one -another. - -In the receptacles which are not moistened by artificial showers, -things come to a miserable end. The dry shell, almost as hard as an -apricot- or peach-stone, offers indomitable resistance. The insect’s -legs manage to grate off barely so much as a pinch of dust. I hear the -tools rasping against the unyielding wall; then silence follows and not -a prisoner survives to tell the tale. The mother too perishes in that -home which has remained dry when the season for dryness has passed. The -Copris, like the Sacred Beetle, needs the rain to soften the granite -shell. - -To return to the liberated ones. When the emergence is effected, the -mother, we were saying, ceases to trouble about them. Her present -indifference, however, must not make us forget the wonderful care which -she has lavished for four months on end. Outside the Social -Hymenoptera—Bees, Wasps, Ants and so on—who spoon-feed their young and -bring them up according to scrupulously hygienic methods, where in the -insect world shall we find another example of such maternal -self-abnegation, of such wise and tender care for the offspring? I know -of none. - -How did the Copris acquire this lofty quality, which I would readily -call a moral quality, if morality and nescience had any point of -contact? How did she learn to surpass in tenderness the Bee and the -Ant, both so greatly renowned? I say surpass. The mother Bee, indeed, -is simply a germ-factory, a prodigiously fertile factory, I admit. She -lays eggs; and that is all. The family is brought up by others, real -sisters of charity these, vowed to celibacy. - -The Copris mother does more in her humble household. Alone and entirely -unaided, she provides each of her children with a cake whose crust, -hardening and constantly renovated with the maternal trowel, becomes an -inviolable cradle. So intense is her affection that she neglects -herself to the extent of losing all need for food. Down in a burrow, -for four consecutive months, she watches over her brood, attending to -the wants of the germ, the grub, the nymph and the perfect insect. She -does not return to the glad outer life until all her family are -emancipated. Thus do we behold one of the most brilliant manifestations -of maternal instinct in a humble dung-eater. The Spirit breatheth where -he will. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -ONTHOPHAGI AND ONITICELLI - - -After the notabilities of the Dung-beetle tribe, if we omit the -Geotrupes, who belong to a different clan, there remains, within the -very limited radius of my observation, the Onthophagus rabble, of which -I could gather a dozen different species around my house. What will -these small fry teach us? - -Even more zealous than their big companions, they are the first that -hasten to exploit the heap left by the passing Mule. They come in -crowds and stay a long time working under the spread table that gives -them shade and coolness. Turn over the heap with your foot. You will be -surprised at the swarming population whose presence no outward sign -betrayed. The largest are scarce the size of a pea, but some are much -smaller still; and these dwarfs are no less busy than the others, no -less eager to crumble into dust the filth which, in the interests of -the public health, must be cleared away with all speed. - -For the more important work of life there is nothing like the humble -toilers for realizing vast strength, made up of their joint weaknesses. -Swollen by numbers, the next to nothing becomes an enormous total. - -Hurrying in detachments at the first news of the event, assisted -moreover in their sanitary work by their partners, the Aphodii, who are -as weak as they, the tiny Onthophagi soon clear the ground of its dirt. -Not that their appetite is equal to the consumption of such plentiful -provisions. What food do these pigmies need? A mere atom. But for that -atom, selected from among the exudations, search must be made amid the -wisps of masticated fodder. Hence, an endless division and dissection -of the lump, reducing it to dust which the sun sterilizes and the wind -dispels. As soon as the work is done—and very well done—the troop of -scavengers goes in search of another refuse-yard. Except for the period -of intense cold, which puts a stop to all activity, they are never -idle. - -And do not run away with the idea that this filthy task entails an -inelegant shape and a ragged dress. Our squalor is unknown to the -insect. In its world, a navvy dons a sumptuous jerkin; an undertaker -decks himself in a triple saffron sash; a wood-cutter works in a velvet -coat. In like manner, the Onthophagus has his special gorgeousness. -True, the costume is always severe: brown and black are the predominant -colours, now dull, now polished as ebony. That is the general -groundwork, but how chaste and elegant are the decorative details! - -One (O. lemur) has wing-cases of a light chestnut colour, with a -semicircle of black dots; a second (O. nuchicornis) has similar -chestnut wing-cases covered with splashes of Indian ink not unlike the -square Hebrew characters; a third (O. Schreberi), who is a glossy black -like that of jet, decks himself with four vermilion cockades; a fourth -(O. furcatus) lights up the tip of his short wing-cases with a gleam -similar to that of dying embers; many (O. vacca, O. cænobita and -others) have corselets and heads bright with the metal sheen of -Florentine bronze. - -The graver’s work completes the beauty of the dress. Dainty chasing in -parallel grooves, delicate embroidery, knotty chaplets are distributed -in profusion among nearly all of them. Yes, the little Onthophagi, with -their short bodies and their nimble activity, are really pretty to look -at. - -And then how original are their frontal decorations! These peace-lovers -delight in the panoply of war, as though they, the inoffensive ones, -thirsted for battle. Many of them crown their heads with threatening -horns. Let us mention a couple of the horned ones whose story will -occupy us more particularly. I mean, first, the Bull Onthophagus (O. -taurus), clad in raven black. He wears a pair of long horns, gracefully -curved and branching to either side. No pedigree bull, in the Swiss -meadows, can match them for curve or elegance. The second is the Forked -Onthophagus (O. furcatus), who is much smaller. His equipment consists -of a fork with three vertical prongs. - -There you have the two chief subjects of this brief Onthophagus -biography. The others are equally worthy of being chronicled. From -first to last, they would all supply us with interesting details, some -of them even with peculiarities unknown elsewhere; but we must draw the -line somewhere in this multitude, which is difficult to observe in the -aggregate. And there is this more serious circumstance, that my choice -has not been free: I have had to content myself with the few lucky -discoveries made as the result of chance encounters out of doors and -with the few successful experiments made in the vivarium. - -Two species only, the two which I have named, have proved satisfactory -in both directions. Let us watch them at work. They will show us the -principal features of the manner of life led by the whole tribe, for -they occupy the two extremes of the scale of sizes, the Bull -Onthophagus being one of the largest and the Forked Onthophagus one of -the smallest. - -We will speak first of the nest. Contrary to my expectation, the -Onthophagi are indifferent nest-builders. With them we find no spheres -rolled joyously in the sunshine, no ovoids manipulated laboriously in -an underground workshop. Their business, that of reducing filth to -dust, appears to give them so much to do that they have no time left -for work demanding prolonged patience. They confine themselves to what -is strictly necessary and most rapidly obtained. - -A perpendicular well is dug, a couple of inches deep, cylindrical in -shape and varying in bore according to the size of the well-sinker. The -pit of the Forked Onthophagus has the diameter of a lead-pencil; that -of the Bull Onthophagus is twice the width. Right at the bottom are the -grub’s provisions, plastered against the walls in a tightly-packed -heap. The total lack of free space at the sides of the pile shows how -the provisioning is done. There is not a sign of a niche, of the least -corner that would leave the mother enough liberty of movement to knead -and mould her bun. The material therefore is simply pressed down at the -bottom of the cylindrical sheath, where it takes the shape of a full -thimble. - -I dig up some nests of the Forked Onthophagus near the end of July. It -is a crude piece of work, which surprises you by its roughness when you -think of the neat little worker. Wisps of hay, sticking out anyhow, -increase the untidy look of things. The nature of the materials, -supplied this time by the Mule, are partly the cause of this ugly -appearance. - -The length of these nests is fourteen millimetres, the width seven. -[43] The upper surface is slightly concave, proving that the pressure -has been exercised by the mother. The lower end is rounded like the -bottom of the well which serves as a mould. I take a needle and with -the point of it I pick the rustic structure to pieces. The mass of -foodstuff occupies the base, forming the lower two-thirds of the -thimble into a compact block; the cell containing the egg is at the -top, under a thin, concave lid. - -There is nothing fresh about the work of the Bull Onthophagus, which, -save for being larger, differs in no way from that of the Forked -Onthophagus. I am unacquainted with the insect’s modus operandi. As -regards the inner secrets of nest-building, these dwarfs are as -reticent as their big colleagues. One alone satisfied my curiosity, or -nearly; and then it was not an Onthophagus but a kindred species, the -Yellow-footed Oniticellus (O. flavipes). - -I capture her in the last week of July, under a heap which a Mule -employed in treading out the corn on the thrashing-floor dropped during -a rest from work. The thick blanket, transformed by a hot sun into an -incomparable incubator, shelters a host of Onthophagi. The Oniticellus -is by herself. Her quick retreat down a yawning well attracts my -attention. I dig to a depth of about two inches and extract the lady of -the house together with her work, the latter in a sadly damaged -condition. I can, however, distinguish a sort of bag. - -I install the Oniticellus in a tumbler, on a layer of heaped earth, and -give her as her nest-building materials what the Sacred Beetles and the -Copres prefer, the Sheep’s plastic paste. Caught at the moment when she -was about to lay, goaded by the irresistible needs of her ovaries, the -mother lends herself very obligingly to my wishes. She lays four eggs -in three days. This rapidity, which would doubtless be even greater if -my curiosity had not disturbed her in her task, is explained by the -simplicity of the work. - -The mother goes to the lower surface of the stuff which I have supplied -and detaches from the central and softest part a slice sufficient for -her plans, removing it all in one piece, by means of a circular -section. It is the same method as that employed by the Copris taking -from her loaf the wherewithal to make a pellet. There is a pit -immediately below, dug in advance. The Oniticellus goes down it with -her burden. - -I wait half an hour, to give the work time to take shape, and then turn -the glass upside down, hoping to surprise the mother in her domestic -business. The original little lump is now a bag moulded by pressure -against the sides of the well. The mother is at the bottom, motionless, -bewildered by my disturbing visit and the intrusion of light. To see -her working with her forehead and legs in order to spread the matter, -crush it and apply it to its earthen sheath seems to me a very -difficult thing to do. I abandon the attempt and restore the glass to -its first position. - -A little later, I make a second examination, when the mother has left -her burrow. The work is now finished. The outward form is that of a -thimble fifteen millimetres deep by ten wide. [44] The flat end has all -the appearance of a lid fitted to the opening and carefully soldered -on. The rounded lower half of the thimble is full. This is the grub’s -larder. Above is the hatching-chamber, with the egg sticking up from -the floor, fixed perpendicularly by one end. - -Great is the danger for the Oniticellus and the Onthophagus, offspring -of the dog-days, both of them. Their jar of preserves is greatly -restricted in volume. Its shape is in no way calculated to reduce -evaporation; it is too near the surface of the soil to escape the -dangerous dryness of the air. If the cake should harden, the grub will -die, after its abstinence has been prolonged to the utmost limits of -endurance. - -I place in glass tubes, which will represent the native well, a few -Onthophagus- and Oniticellus-thimbles, first contriving an opening in -the side which will enable me to see what happens within. I close the -tubes with a plug of cotton and keep them in a shady part of my study. -Evaporation must be very slight in these impermeable and moreover -plugged sheaths. Nevertheless it is enough to produce in a few days a -degree of dryness which is fatal to feeding. - -I see the starvelings remain motionless, unable to bite into the -hateful crust; I see them lose their plumpness, I see them wrinkle and -shrivel, and at last, in a fortnight’s time, take on all the appearance -of death. I replace the dry cotton with wet cotton. The atmosphere in -the tubes becomes damp; the thimbles are gradually saturated with the -moisture, swell out and soften; and the dying come back to life. They -do so to such good purpose that the whole cycle of the metamorphoses is -safely accomplished, on condition that the wet cotton be renewed from -time to time. - -My carefully graduated artificial shower, with its damped cotton to -represent the clouds, inspires that return to life. It is like a -resurrection. In the normal conditions prevailing in the torrid, -rain-grudging month of August, the probability of an equivalent of that -shower is almost nil. How then is the fatal drying-up of the victuals -avoided? To begin with, there are, so it seems to me, certain gifts -bestowed on these little ones so inadequately protected by their -mother’s industry against the enemy, drought. I have seen Onthophagus- -and Oniticellus-larvæ recover their appetite, their plumpness and their -vigour under the wet cotton, after a three weeks’ fast that had reduced -them to a wrinkled pilule. This faculty of endurance has its uses: it -enables the possessor to await, in a state of lethargy akin to death, -the few, very uncertain drops of rain that will put an end to the -famine. It comes to the grub’s rescue, but it is not sufficient: the -prosperity of a race cannot be based upon privation. - -There is something more, therefore; and this is furnished by the -mother’s instinct. Whereas the manufacturers of pears and ovoids always -dig their burrow at an open spot, with no other protection than the -mound of earth flung up, the makers of little thimbles bore their well -directly under the material exploited and go by preference to the -voluminous droppings of the Horse and the Mule. Under this thick -mattress, the soil, protected against sun and wind, keeps fresh and -damp for some little time, steeped as it is in the moisture from the -dung. - -For that matter, the danger does not last long. The egg yields up the -grub in less than a week; and the larva attains its full development -within a dozen days or so, if nothing untoward happens. This makes -about twenty days in all for the critical period of the Onthophagus and -the Oniticellus. What does it matter if the walls of the emptied -thimble do dry after that! The nymph will be all the better off in a -solid casket, which will easily crumble to bits later, when, with the -first September rains, the insect effects its release. - -In appearance and habits the grub resembles that which the Sacred -Beetle and the others have introduced to us. It possesses the same -aptitude for defending the cell against the dangerous intrusion of the -dry air; the same zeal, the same nimbleness in cementing the least -breach with the putty of the intestines; the same knapsack hunching the -middle of the back. - -The grub of the Oniticellus has the most remarkable hump of all. Would -you care to have a quick and yet a faithful sketch of it? Draw a short, -wrinkled sausage. About the middle of this sausage, on the side, graft -an appendix. There you have the beast, in three almost equal parts. The -lower portion is the abdomen; the upper, where you are at first -inclined to look for the head, so clearly does it appear to be a -continuation of the part below, is the hump, the inordinate, -extravagant hump, bigger than caricaturist ever dared conceive in the -wildest flights of his imagination. It occupies the place which by -rights belongs to the chest and head. Then where are these? Thrust -aside by the monstrous knapsack, they constitute a lateral appendage, a -mere knob. The strange creature bends at right angles under the weight -of its hump. - -When nature goes in for the grotesque, she leaves us behind. Is -grotesque the right word? I have seen representations of Monkeys -adorned with preposterous noses which Rabelais, for all his inspired -vision of the huge, never conceived; and this though he invented the -nose ‘like the beak of a limbeck, in every part thereof most variously -diapered with the twinkling sparkles of crimson blisters budding forth, -and purpled with pimples all enamelled with thick-set wheals of a -sanguine colour, bordered with gules.’ [45] I know some who are all -scrubby with shock-headed wigs and whiskers and imperials in which -every hairy drollery seems to be epitomized; and yet there is not a -doubt that noses ‘like the beak of a limbeck’ and bristly faces are -highly admired in the simian clan. There is no boundary between the -fashionable and the grotesque. It all depends upon the appraiser. - -If the grub with the outrageous hump were to show itself in public, it -would doubtless represent the supreme expression of the beautiful in -the eyes of the Oniticellus and the Onthophagus. Because it is a -recluse, nobody sees it. Its charms would remain unknown but for the -philosophical observer, who says to himself: - -‘Everything is good that harmonizes with the functions to be fulfilled. -The grub requires a cement-bag to safeguard its provisions against -desiccation; it is born with a knapsack on its back so that it may -live.’ - -Thus is the hump excused and abundantly justified. - -Its usefulness is displayed from another point of view. The thimble is -of such a niggardly size that the grub consumes it almost entirely. All -that remains is a thin layer, a crumbling remnant which would provide -no security for the nymph. The ruined dwelling has to be strengthened, -to be lined with a new wall. For this purpose, the larva of the -Oniticellus empties the whole of its knapsack and gives its cell a -complete coating of cement, after the manner of the Sacred Beetle and -others. - -The grub of the different species of Onthophagi does more artistic -work. Placing its putty drop by drop, it constructs a mosaic of -lightly-projecting scales, suggesting those of a cedar-cone. When -finished, well dried and stripped of the last shreds of the original -thimble, the shell thus obtained by the Bull Onthophagus is the size of -an average filbert and resembles the pretty cone of the alder-tree. The -imitation is so good that I was taken in by it the first time that I -handled the curious product when digging in my cages. It needed the -contents of the mock alder-cone to show me my mistake. The hump has an -artfulness of its own: it was keeping this elegant specimen of -stercoral jewellery in reserve for us. - -The nymph of the Onthophagi provides us with another surprise. My -observations are confined to two species only: the Bull Onthophagus and -the Forked Onthophagus; but the difference between the two, in size and -shape, is great enough to allow me to generalize and apply the -following singular fact to the whole genus. - -About the middle of the fore-edge of the corselet the nymph is armed -with a very distinct horn, projecting for about one-twelfth of an inch. -The horn is transparent, colourless and limp, as are all the budding -organs at this period, particularly the legs, the cornicles of the -forehead and the mouth-parts. This crystalline protuberance proclaims a -future horn as clearly as the mandible is proclaimed by its initial -nipple or the wing-case by its sheath. Any insect-collector will -understand my amazement. A horn there, on the prothorax! But no -Onthophagus wears such a weapon as that! The register of my -insect-house duly records the genus of the insect, but I dare not -believe it. - -The nymph moults. Together with the cast skin, the unfamiliar horn -dries up and falls off, leaving not the least trace behind it. My two -Onthophagi, recently disguised in strange armour, now have their -corselets bare. - -This fleeting organ, which disappears without leaving even an -excrescence, this temporary horn at a spot destined in the end to be -unmailed, gives rise to a few reflections. The Dung-beetles, those -placid creatures, generally favour a warlike harness: they love -outlandish weapons, halberds, spears, grappling-irons, scimitars. Let -us hurriedly recall the horn of the Spanish Copris. No Rhinoceros in -the Indian jungles boasts one to compare with it upon his nose. Broad -at the base, pointed at the tip, curved like a bow, when the head is -lifted the horn bends back till it touches the keel of the obliquely -truncated corselet. It might be a harpoon intended for ripping up some -monster. Remember also the Minotaur, [46] who looks as though he were -going to spit his foe with his sheaf of three couched lances, and the -Lunary Copris, horned on the forehead, armed with a pike on each -shoulder and wearing a corselet notched with little crescents that -remind us of the short curved knife of the pork-butcher. - -The Onthophagi have a most varied arsenal. One, O. taurus, wears the -Bull’s crescent-shaped horns; a second, O. vacca, prefers a wide, short -blade, with its point sheathed in a notch in the corselet; a third, O. -furcatus, wields a trident; yet another, O. nuchicornis, owns a dagger -with a winged handle; and again O. cænobita sports a cavalryman’s -sword. The worst-equipped crown their foreheads with a transversal -crest, with a pair of cornicles. - -What is the good of this panoply? Are we to look upon it as a set of -tools, pickaxes, mattocks, pitchforks, spades, levers, which the insect -might ply in digging? By no means. The only industrial implements are -the forehead and the legs, especially the fore-legs. I have never -discovered a Dung-beetle of any sort making use of her weapons either -to excavate her burrow or to mix her provisions. Besides, as a rule, -the direction of the things alone would prevent their employment as -utensils. For a digging-job performed forwards, what would you have a -Spanish Copris do with her pickaxe, which points backwards? The -powerful horn does not face the obstacle attacked; it turns its back -upon it. - -The Minotaur’s trident, though arranged in a suitable direction, -likewise remains unemployed. When deprived of this armour with a clip -of my scissors, the Beetle loses none of his mining-talents; he goes -underground quite as easily as his unmutilated fellow. And here is an -even more conclusive argument: the mothers, to whose lot the labour of -nest-building falls; the mothers, those conspicuous workers, are -deprived of these horny growths or possess them only on a greatly -reduced scale. They simplify the armour, or reject it entirely, because -it is more of an impediment than an assistance to their work. - -Are we to look upon them as means of defence? Not that either. The -ruminants, the main feeders of the dung-eaters, are also given to -wearing frontal armour. The analogy of taste is obvious, though it is -impossible for us to suspect its remote reasons. The Ram, the Bull, the -Goat, the Chamois, the Stag, the Reindeer and the rest of them are -armed with horns and antlers which they use in amorous jousts or for -the protection of the threatened herd. The Onthophagi know nothing of -these contests. There is no strife among them; and, should danger -arise, they content themselves with shamming death by gathering their -legs under their abdomen. - -Their armour then is a mere ornament, the fine feathers of masculine -coquetry. According to life’s law of competition, the best-dressed -carry off the palm. Though we may regard those rapiers on the nose as -queer, their wearers are of another opinion; and the most eccentric -enjoy the highest favour. The smallest extra pimple, springing up by -accident, is an added beauty which may decide the choice among the -suitors. The best-adorned captivate the mothers, perpetuate the breed -and hand down to their offspring the cornicle or the knob that caused -their triumph. Thus by degrees was the ornamentation at which the -entomologist wonders to-day formed and transmitted from generation to -generation, improving as it went. - -To this dictum of the evolutionists the nymph of the Onthophagus -replies as follows: - -‘I have on my back a budding horn, the germ of a bit of ornamentation -that can be very handsome, as witness the Bison Bubas, who turns it -into a splendid prow-shaped protuberance; witness also various exotic -relatives of mine, who lengthen their corselet into a magnificent spur. -I possess the wherewithal to bring about a revolution among my kin. If -I retained it, my bump, that charming innovation, would relegate my -rivals to the second rank; I should be preferred above all others; I -should become the founder of a family; and my descendants, completing -and improving on my first attempt, would behold the extinction of those -antiquated old things. Why should the lump on my back wither -purposeless? Why should my endeavour, repeated year after year for -centuries, never achieve the promised result?’ - -Listen to me, O ambitious one! The theorists, it is true, declare that -every casual acquisition, however trifling, is handed down and -increases if it be profitable; but don’t rely overmuch on that -assertion. I do not doubt the advantages which you might gain from a -little ornament. What I do very much doubt is the efficacity of time -and environment as an evolutionary factor. You will be well-advised to -believe that, born in the dim and distant past with a transient -callosity, you are continuing and will continue to be born with that -rudimentary excrescence without any chance of fixing it, hardening it -into a horn or obtaining an additional decoration for your -wedding-garment. - -Be we men or Dung-beetles, we are all created in the image of an -unalterable prototype: the changing conditions of life alter us -slightly on the surface but never in the framework of our being. The -verdigris of the ages may encrust our medals, but it can give them -neither a new image nor a new superscription. Nothing will give me the -wings of a bird, desirable though these would be in the midst of our -human squalor; nor will anything bestow upon your adult age the -triumphal crest which your nymphal knob seemed to prognosticate. - -The nymphs of both the Onthophagus and the Oniticellus attain their -maturity in some twenty days. During August the adult form appears with -the half-white, half-red costume which has become familiar to us from -our earlier studies. The normal colouring is fixed pretty quickly. -Nevertheless the insect is in no hurry to burst its shell: the -difficulty would be too great. It waits for the first showers of -September, which will come to its assistance by softening the casket. -The liberating rain arrives; and behold, issuing from the earth to rush -after food, the joyous small fry of the Onthophagi. - -Among the domestic secrets which my cages reveal to me at this period, -one above all attracts my attention. I possess at the same time, in -separate establishments, the newcomers and the veterans, which last are -as brisk and eager in their pursuit of the victuals as are their sons, -now banqueting for the first time in the open. The cages are stocked -with two generations. - -The same synchronizing of fathers and sons is observable among all the -Dung-beetles that build their nests in the spring: Sacred Beetles, -Copres and Geotrupes. The precaution which I have taken to watch the -hatchings and to place the youngsters in a special compartment as and -when they appeared confirms this remarkable simultaneity. - -It is an entomological principle that the ancestor shall not see his -descendants; he dies once the future of his family is assured. By a -glorious privilege, the Sacred Beetle and his rivals are allowed to -know their successors: fathers and sons meet at the same banquet, not -in my cages, where the problems under consideration compel me to keep -them separate, but in the open fields. Together they gambol in the sun, -together they exploit the patch of dung encountered; and this life of -revelry lasts as long as autumn continues to supply fine days. - -The cold weather arrives. Sacred Beetles and Copres, Onthophagi and -Gymnopleuri dig themselves a burrow, go down into it with provisions, -shut themselves in and wait. In January, on a frosty day, I dig into -the cages, which have no protection against the inclemencies of the -season. I go to work discreetly, so as not to submit all my captives to -the harsh test. Those whom I exhume each sit huddled in a shell, beside -the remaining provisions. All that the lethargy produced by the cold -allows them to do is to move their legs and antennæ a little when I -expose them to the sun. - -Hardly has the imprudent almond-tree burst into blossom in February, -when some of the sleepers awake. Two of the earlier Onthophagi, O. -lemur and O. fronticornis, are very common at this time, already -crumbling the dung warmed by the sun on the high-road. Soon the -festival of spring begins; and all, large and small, newcomers and -veterans, hasten to take part in it. The old ones, not all, but at -least some of them, the best-preserved, fly off and get married a -second time, an unparalleled privilege. They have two families, -separated by an interval of a year. They can indeed have three, as is -evidenced by the Broad-necked Scarab, who, kept in a cage for three -years, gives me every year her collection of pears. Perhaps they even -go beyond this. The Dung-beetle tribe has its patriarchs who are truly -venerable. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE GEOTRUPES: THE PUBLIC HEALTH - - -To complete the cycle of the year in the adult form, to see one’s self -surrounded by one’s sons at the spring festival, to double and treble -one’s family: that surely is a most exceptional privilege in the insect -world. The Bees, the aristocracy of instinct, perish once the honey-pot -is filled; the Butterflies, the aristocracy not of instinct but of -dress, die when they have fastened their packet of eggs in a propitious -spot; the richly-armoured Ground-beetles succumb when the germs of a -posterity are scattered beneath the stones. - -So with the others, except among the social insects, where the mother -survives, either alone or accompanied by her attendants. It is a -general law: the insect is born orphaned of both its parents. And lo, -by an unexpected turn of fate, the humble scavenger escapes the -catastrophes that devour the mighty! The Dung-beetle, sated with days, -becomes a patriarch. - -This longevity explains first of all a fact that struck me long ago, -when, to learn a little about the tribes whose history attracted me so -greatly, I used to stick rows of Beetles on pins in my boxes. -Ground-beetles, Rose-chafers, Buprestes, Capricorns, Saperdæ [47] and -the rest were collected one by one, after prolonged search. Now and -again a lucky find would make my cheeks glow with excitement. -Exclamations broke from our prentice band when one of these rarities -was captured. A touch of jealousy accompanied our congratulations of -the proud possessor. It was bound to be so; for think: there were not -enough to go round. - -A Scalary Saperda, the denizen of dead cherry-trees, clad in deep -yellow with ladder-like markings of black velvet; a purply -Ground-beetle, edged with amethyst along his ebony wing-cases; a -brilliant Buprestis, wedding the sheen of gold and copper to the -gorgeous green of malachite: these were great events, far too -infrequent to satisfy us all. - -With the Dung-beetles you can sing a different song! These are the ones -if you want to fill the greediest of asphyxiating-phials to the neck. -They, especially the smaller ones, are a numberless multitude when the -others are few and far between. I remember Onthophagi and Aphodii -swarming by the thousand under one shelter. You could have shovelled -them up if you wished. - -To this day I am still astonished when I see these crowds again; as of -old, the abundance of the Dung-beetle family forms a striking contrast -with the comparative scarcity of the others. If it occurred to me to go -a-hunting once more and renew the quest to which I owe moments of such -sheer delight, I should be certain of filling my flasks with Scarabæi, -Copres, Geotrupes, Onthophagi and other members of the same corporation -before achieving any measure of success with the rest of the series. By -the time that May comes, the distiller of ordure is there in numbers; -and in July and August, those months of blazing heat which see the -suspension of labour in the fields, the dealer in unsavoury matter is -still at work while the others have taken to earth and are lying in -motionless torpor. He and his contemporary, the Cicada, [48] represent -almost by themselves such activity as prevails during the torrid days. - -May not this greater frequency of the Dung-beetles, at least in my part -of the world, be due to the longevity of the adult form? I think so. -Whereas the other insects are summoned to enjoy the fine weather only -in successive generations, these receive a general invitation, father -and sons together, daughters and mother together. Being equally -prolific, they are therefore represented twice over. - -And they really deserve it, in consideration of the services which they -render. There is a general hygienic law which requires that every -putrid thing shall disappear in the shortest possible time. Paris has -not yet solved the formidable problem of her sewage, which sooner or -later will become a question of life or death for the monstrous city. -One asks one’s self whether the centre of light is not doomed to be -extinguished some day in the reeking exhalations of a soil saturated -with putrescence. What this agglomeration of millions of men cannot -obtain, with all its treasures of wealth and talent, the smallest -hamlet possesses without going to any expense or even troubling to -think about it. - -Nature, so lavish of her cares in respect of rural health, is -indifferent to the welfare of cities, if not actively hostile to it. -She has created for the fields two classes of scavengers, whom nothing -wearies, whom nothing repels. One of these, consisting of Flies, -Silphæ, Dermestes, Necrophori, Histers is charged with the dissection -of corpses. They cut and hash, they elaborate the waste matter of death -in their stomachs in order to restore it to life. - -A Mole ripped open by the ploughshare soils the path with its entrails, -which soon turn purple; a Snake lies on the grass, crushed by the foot -of a wayfarer who thought, the fool, that he was performing a good -work; an unfledged bird, fallen from its nest, lies, a crushed and -pathetic heap, at the foot of the tree that carried it; thousands of -other similar remains, of every sort and kind, are scattered here and -there, threatening danger through their effluvia, if no steps be taken -to put things right. Have no fear: no sooner is a corpse signalled in -any direction than the little undertakers come trotting along. They -work away at it, empty it, consume it to the bone, or at least reduce -it to the dryness of a mummy. In less than twenty-four hours, Mole, -Snake, bird have disappeared and the requirements of health are -satisfied. - -The same zeal for their task exists in the second class of scavengers. -The village hardly knows those ammonia-scented refuges to which the -townsman repairs to relieve his sordid needs. A little bit of a wall, a -hedge, a bush is all that the peasant asks as a retreat at the moment -when he would fain be alone. I need say no more to suggest the -encounters to which such free and easy manners expose you! Enticed by -the patches of lichen, the cushions of moss, the tufts of houseleek and -other pretty things that adorn old stones, you go up to a sort of wall -that supports a vineyard. Faugh! At the foot of the daintily-decked -shelter, what an unconcealed abomination! You flee: lichens, mosses and -houseleek tempt you no more. But come back on the morrow. The thing has -disappeared, the place is clean: the Dung-beetles have been that way. - -To preserve the eyes from a frequent recurrence of offensive sights is, -to these stalwart workers, the least of their tasks: a loftier mission -is incumbent on them. Science tells us that the most dreadful scourges -of mankind have their agents of dissemination in tiny organisms, the -microbes, near neighbours of must and mould, on the extreme confines of -the vegetable kingdom. At times of epidemic, the terrible germs -multiply by countless myriads in the intestinal discharges. They -contaminate those main necessities of life, the air and the water; they -spread over our linen, our clothes, our food and thus diffuse -contagion. We have to destroy by fire, to sterilize with corrosives or -to bury underground such things as are infected with them. - -Prudence even demands that we should never allow ordure to linger on -the surface of the ground. It may be harmless or it may be dangerous: -when in doubt, the best thing is to put it out of sight. That is how -ancient wisdom seems to have understood the thing, long before the -microbe explained to us the need for vigilance. The nations of the -east, more liable than we to epidemics, had formal laws in these -matters. Moses, apparently echoing Egyptian knowledge in this case, -tabulated the rules of conduct for his people wandering in the Arabian -desert: - - - ‘Thou shalt have a place without the camp,’ he says, ‘to which thou - mayst go for the necessities of nature, carrying a paddle at thy - girdle. And, when thou sittest down, thou shalt dig round about and - with the earth that is dug up thou shalt cover that which thou art - eased of’ (Deut. xxiii. 12–14). - - -The simple precept touches a matter of grave concern; and we may well -believe that, if Islam, at the time of its great pilgrimages to the -Kaaba, were to take the same precaution and a few more of a similar -character, Mecca would cease to be an annual seat of cholera and Europe -would not need to mount guard on the shores of the Red Sea to protect -herself against the scourge. - -Heedless of hygiene as the Arab, who was one of his ancestors, the -Provençal peasant does not suspect the danger. Fortunately, the -Dung-beetle, that faithful observer of the Mosaic law, is at work. It -is his to remove from sight, it is his to bury the microbe-laden -matter. Supplied with digging-implements far superior to the paddle -which the Israelite was to carry at his girdle when urgent business -called him from the camp, he hastens to the spot and, as soon as man is -gone, excavates a pit wherein the infection is swallowed up and -rendered harmless. - -The services rendered by these sextons are of the highest importance to -the health of the fields; yet we, who are those most interested in this -constant work of purification, hardly vouchsafe the sturdy toilers a -contemptuous glance. Popular language overwhelms them with harsh -epithets. This appears to be the rule: do good and you shall be -misjudged, you shall be traduced, stoned, trodden underfoot, as witness -the Toad, the Bat, the Hedgehog, the Owl and other helpers who, for -their services, ask nothing but a little tolerance. - -Now, of our defenders against the dangers of filth flaunted shamelessly -in the rays of the sun, the most remarkable in our climes are the -Geotrupes: not that they are more zealous than the others, but because -their size makes them capable of heavier work. Moreover, when it is -simply a question of their nourishment, they resort by preference to -the materials which we have most to fear. - -My neighbourhood is worked by four species of Geotrupes. Two of them, -G. mutator, Marsh, and G. sylvaticus, Panz., are rarities on which we -had best not count for connected studies; the two others, on the -contrary, G. stercorarius, Lin., and G. hypocrita, Schneid., are -exceedingly common. Black as ink above, both of them are magnificently -garbed below. We are quite surprised to find such a jewel-case among -the professional scavengers. The under surface of the Stercoraceous -Geotrupes is of a splendid amethyst-violet, while that of the Mimic -Geotrupes makes a generous display of the ruddy gleams of copper -pyrites. These two species are the inmates of my insect-houses. - -Let us ask them first of what feats they are capable as buriers. There -are a dozen of them in all. The cage is previously swept clean of what -remains of the former provisions, hitherto supplied without stint. This -time, I propose to find out what a Geotrupes can stow away in one -night. At sunset, I serve to my twelve captives the whole of a heap -which a Mule has just dropped in front of my door. There is plenty of -it, enough to fill a basket. - -On the morning of the next day, the mass has disappeared underground. -There is nothing left outside, or very nearly nothing. I am able to -make a fairly close estimate and I find that each of my Geotrupes, -presuming each of the twelve to have done an equal share of the work, -has buried pretty nearly sixty cubic inches of matter: a Titanic task, -when we remember the insignificant size of the insect, which, moreover, -has to dig the warehouse to which the booty must be lowered. And all -this is done in the space of a night. - -Having feathered their nests so well, will they remain quietly -underground with their treasure? Not they! The weather is magnificent. -The hour of twilight comes, gentle and calm. Now is the time when long -flights are undertaken, when joyous humming fills the air, when the -insects go afar, searching the roads by which the herds have lately -passed. My lodgers abandon their cellars and mount to the surface. I -hear them buzzing, climbing up the wirework, bumping wildly against the -walls. I have anticipated this twilight animation. Provisions have been -collected during the day, plentiful as those of yesterday. I serve -them. There is the same disappearance during the night. On the morrow, -the place is once again swept clean. And this would continue -indefinitely, so fine are the evenings, if I always had at my disposal -the wherewithal to satisfy these insatiable hoarders. - -Rich though his booty be, the Geotrupes leaves it at sunset to dally in -the last gleams of daylight and to go in search of a new workplace. -With him, one would say, the wealth acquired does not count; the only -thing of value is that to be acquired. Then what does he do with his -warehouses, renewed each twilight in favourable weather? It is obvious -that the Dung-beetle is incapable of consuming all those provisions in -a single night. He has such a superabundance of victuals in his larder -that he does not know how to dispose of them; he is surfeited with good -things by which he will not profit; and, not satisfied with having his -store crammed, the acquisitive plutocrat slaves, night after night, to -store away more. - -From each warehouse, set up here, set up there, as things happen, he -deducts the daily meal beforehand; the rest, which means almost the -whole, he abandons. My cages testify to the fact that this instinct for -burying is more imperative than the consumer’s appetite. The ground is -soon raised, in consequence; and I am obliged, from time to time, to -lower the level to the desired limits. If I dig it up, I find it choked -throughout its depth with hoards that have remained intact. The -original earth has become a hopeless conglomeration, which I must prune -freely, if I would not go astray in my future observations. - -Allowing for errors, either of excess or deficiency, which are -inevitable in a subject that does not admit of exact measurement, one -point stands out very clearly as the result of my enquiry: the -Geotrupes are enthusiastic buriers; they take underground a great deal -more than is necessary for their consumption. As this work is -performed, in varying degrees, by legions of collaborators, large and -small, it is evident that the purification of the soil must benefit to -a considerable extent and that the public health is to be congratulated -on having this army of auxiliaries in its service. - -In addition, the plant and, indirectly, a host of different existences -are interested in these interments. What the Geotrupes buries and -abandons the next day is not lost: far from it. Nothing is lost in the -world’s balance-sheet; at stock-taking, the total never varies. The -little lump of dung buried by the insect will make the nearest tuft of -grass grow a luxuriant green. A Sheep passes, crops the bunch of grass: -all the better for the leg of mutton which man is waiting for; the -Dung-beetle’s industry has procured us a savoury mouthful. - -Even that is something, though we are making our usual mistake of -comparing everything with our own standard. How much more it becomes, -once we begin to think and get away from this narrow point of view! To -enumerate all those who benefit, directly or indirectly, by the -Dung-beetle’s work would be impossible, so inextricably interlinked is -all that exists. I think of the Warbler, who will stuff the mattress of -his nest with the tiny stalks retted by the rain and sun; the -caterpillar of some Psyche, which will construct its Moth-case by -imbricating the remnants of those same stalks; little Cockchafers, who -will nibble the anthers of the tall grasses; tiny Weevils, who will -turn the ripe seeds into cradles for their grubs; tribes of Aphides, -who will settle under the leaves; and Ants, who will come and slake -their thirst at the sugary cornicles of the last-named herd. - -Let us be content with this list, or we shall never have done. A whole -world is benefited by the agricultural industry of the Dung-beetle, -that burier of manure: first the plant and then all that live upon the -plant. A small world, a very small world, as small as you please, but -after all not a negligible world. It is of such trifles that the great -integral of life is composed, even as the integral of the -mathematicians is composed of quantities neighbouring on 0. - -Agricultural chemistry teaches us that, to employ the stable-dung to -the best purpose, we should put it into the ground, so far as possible, -while fresh. When diluted by the rain and dissipated by the air, it -becomes lifeless and devoid of fertilizing elements. This highly -important agronomic truth is quite familiar to the Geotrupes and his -colleagues. In their burying-work they invariably aim at materials of -recent date. Just as they are eager to put away the produce of the -moment, all saturated with its potassium, its nitrates and its -phosphates, even so do they scorn the stuff hardened into brick by the -sun or rendered infertile by long exposure to the air. The valueless -residue does not interest them; they leave this barren rubbish to -others. - -We now know about the Geotrupes as a sanitary expert and a collector of -manure. We are going to see him in a third aspect, that of the -sagacious weather-prophet. It is popularly believed, in the -country-side, that a swarm of agitated Geotrupes, skimming the ground -with an air of great business in the evening, is a sign of fine weather -on the morrow. Is this rustic prognostication worth anything? My cages -shall tell us. I watch my boarders closely all through the autumn, the -period when they build their nests; I note the state of the sky on the -day before and register the weather of the next day. I use no -thermometer, no barometer, none of the scientific implements employed -in the meteorological observatories. I confine myself to the summary -information derived from my personal impressions. - -The Geotrupes do not leave their burrows until after sundown. With the -last glimmer of daylight, if the air be calm and the temperature mild, -they roam about, flying low with a humming noise, seeking the materials -which have accumulated for them in the course of the day. If they come -upon something that suits them, they drop down heavily, tumbling over -in their clumsy eagerness, thrust themselves into their new treasure -and spend the best part of the night in burying it. In this way the -dirt of the fields is made to disappear in a single night. - -There is one condition indispensable to this purging-process: the -atmosphere must be still and warm. Should it rain, the Geotrupes will -not stir out of doors. They have sufficient resources underground for a -prolonged holiday. Should it be cold, should the north-wind blow, they -will not sally forth either. In both cases my cages remain deserted on -the surface. We will leave out of the question these periods of -enforced leisure and consider only those evenings on which the -atmospheric conditions are favourable to foraging-expeditions, or at -least seem to me as though they ought to be. I will summarize the -details in my note-book in three general cases. - -First case. A glorious evening. The Geotrupes fuss about the cages, -impatient to hasten to their nocturnal task. Next day, magnificent -weather. The prophecy, of course, is of the simplest. To-day’s fine -weather is only the continuation of yesterday’s. If the Geotrupes know -nothing more than this, they hardly deserve their reputation. However, -let us pursue the experiment before drawing any conclusions. - -Second case. Again a fine evening. My experience seems to say that the -condition of the sky forebodes a fine morning. The Geotrupes think -otherwise. They do not come out. Which of the two will be right, man or -Dung-beetle? The Dung-beetle: thanks to the keenness of his -perceptions, he foresees, he scents a downpour. Rain comes during the -night and lasts for part of the day. - -Third case. The sky is overcast. Will the south-wind, gathering its -clouds, bring us rain? I am of that opinion, appearances seem so much -to point that way. The Geotrupes, however, fly and buzz around their -cages. Their prophecy is correct and I am wrong. The threat of rain is -dispelled and the sun next morning rises radiantly. - -They seem to be influenced above all by the electric tension of the -atmosphere. On hot and sultry evenings, when a storm is brewing, I see -them moving about even more than usual. The morrow is always marked by -violent claps of thunder. - -There you have the upshot of my observations, which were continued for -three months. Whatever the condition of the sky, whether clear or -clouded, the Geotrupes announce fair weather or storm by their excited -movements in the evening twilight. They are living barometers, more -worthy of belief perhaps, in such contingencies, than the barometer of -our scientists. The exquisite sensitiveness of life is mightier than -the brute weight of a column of mercury. - -I will end by mentioning a fact that well deserves further -investigation when circumstances permit. On the twelfth, thirteenth and -fourteenth of November 1894, the Geotrupes in my cages are in an -extraordinarily agitated condition. Never before and never since have I -seen such animation. They clamber wildly up the wires; at every moment -they take wing and at once bump against the walls and are flung to the -ground. Their restlessness continues until a late hour of the night, a -very unusual thing with them. Out of doors, a few free neighbours run -up and complete the riot in front of my house. What can be happening to -bring these strangers here and especially to throw my cages into such a -state of excitement? - -After a few hot days, which are most exceptional at this time of the -year, the south-wind prevails, foretelling that rain is at hand. On the -evening of the fourteenth, an endless procession of broken clouds -passes before the face of the moon. It is a magnificent sight. During -the night the wind drops. There is not a breath of air. The sky is a -uniform grey. The rain pours straight down, monotonously, continuously, -depressingly. It looks as though it would never stop. And it goes on, -in fact, until the eighteenth of the month. - -Did the Geotrupes, who were so restless on the twelfth, foresee this -deluge? They did. But as a rule they do not quit their burrows at the -approach of rain. Something very extraordinary must have happened, -therefore, to upset them in this way. - -The newspapers explained the riddle. On the twelfth a storm of -unprecedented violence burst over the north of France. The great -barometrical depression which caused it was echoed in my district; and -the Geotrupes marked this profound disturbance by their exceptional -display of emotion. They told me of the hurricane before the papers -did, had I but been able to understand them. Was this simply a chance -coincidence, or was it a case of cause and effect? In the absence of -sufficient evidence, I will end on this note of interrogation. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE GEOTRUPES: NEST-BUILDING - - -In September and October, when the first autumn rains soak the ground -and allow the Sacred Beetle to split his natal casket, the -Stercoraceous Geotrupes and the Mimic Geotrupes found their -family-establishments: somewhat makeshift establishments, in spite of -what we might have expected from the name of these miners, so well -styled earth-borers. When he has to dig himself a retreat that shall -shelter him against the rigours of winter, the Geotrupes really -deserves his name: none can compare with him for the depth of the pit -or the perfection and rapidity of the work. In sandy ground, easily -excavated, I have dug up some that were buried over a yard deep. Others -carried their digging farther still, tiring both my patience and my -implements. There you have the skilled well-sinker, the inimitable -earth-borer. When the cold sets in, he will be able to descend to some -stratum where the frost has lost its terrors. - -The family-lodging is another matter. The propitious season is a short -one; time would fail, if each individual grub had to be endowed with -one of those mansions. Nothing could be more satisfactory than for the -insect to devote the leisure which the approach of winter gives it to -digging a hole of unlimited depth: this makes the retreat doubly safe; -and for the moment its energies, which are not yet suspended, have no -other outlet. But at laying-time these laborious undertakings are -impossible. The hours pass swiftly. In four or five weeks a numerous -family has to be housed and victualled, which puts the sinking of a -deep pit that requires time and patience quite out of the question. - -In any case, precautions will be taken against the dangers of the -surface. Once its family is settled, the unprotected adult insect is -obliged to establish its winter quarters at great depths, whence it -will emerge in spring accompanied by its young ones, like the Sacred -Beetle; but neither the egg nor the grub needs this costly refuge in -the wet season, being well protected by the parents’ industry. - -The burrow dug by the Geotrupes for the benefit of her grub is hardly -deeper than that of the Copris or the Sacred Beetle, notwithstanding -the difference of the seasons. Eleven or twelve inches, roughly -speaking, is the most that I find in the fields, where nothing occurs -to restrict the depth. My cages, with their limited thickness of soil, -are less trustworthy in this respect, since the insect has no option -but to use the layer of earth at its disposal. Many a time, however, I -perceive that this layer is not fully traversed down to the floor of -the box, thus furnishing a fresh proof of the slight depth needed. - -In the open fields as in the confinement of my cages, the burrow is -always dug under the heap of dung that is being exploited. No outward -sign betrays its presence, concealed as it is beneath the voluminous -droppings of the Mule. It is a cylindrical passage, the same width as -the neck of a claret-bottle, straight and perpendicular in a -homogeneous soil, bent and winding irregularly in rough ground where a -root or stone may bar the way and necessitate an abrupt change of -direction. In my cages, when the layer of earth is insufficient, the -pit, at first vertical, bends at right angles on touching the wooden -floor and is continued horizontally. There is no precise rule therefore -in the boring. The accidents of the soil determine the shape. - -At the end of the gallery again there is nothing to remind us of the -spacious hall, the workshop where Copres, Scarabæi and Gymnopleuri -fashion their artistic pears and ovoids, but a mere cul-de-sac of the -same diameter as the nest. A veritable drill-hole, if we make -allowances for the occasional knots and twists inevitable in boring -through stuff that offers more resistance at some places than at -others; a winding channel: that is what the Geotrupes’ burrow is. - -The contents of the crude dwelling take the form of a sort of sausage -or pudding, which fills the lower part of the cylinder and fits it -exactly. Its length is not far short of eight inches and its width -about an inch and a half, when the thing belongs to the Stercoraceous -Geotrupes. The dimensions are a little smaller in the work of the Mimic -Geotrupes. In either case, the sausage is nearly always irregular in -shape, now curved, now more or less dented. These imperfections of the -surface are due to the accidents of a stony ground, which the insect -does not always excavate according to the canons of its art, which -favours the straight line and the perpendicular. The moulded material -faithfully reproduces all the irregularities of its mould. The lower -end is rounded off like the bottom of the burrow itself; the upper end -is slightly concave, through being packed more closely in the middle. - -The voluminous object is put together in layers rather suggestive, as -regards curve and arrangement, of a pile of watch-glasses. Each of them -obviously corresponds with a load of materials gathered in the heap -above the burrow, carried down separately, placed in position on the -previous layer and then vigorously trampled flat. The edges of the -disk, which adapt themselves less well to this work of compression, -remain at a higher level; and all this tends to form something like a -concave lens. These same less-compressed edges give a sort of rind, -which is soiled with earth owing to its contact with the walls of the -tunnel. Altogether, the structure tells us the method of manufacture. -The Geotrupes’ sausage, like our own, is obtained by moulding in a -cylinder. It results from layers introduced one after the other and -duly compressed, especially in the middle, which is more easily -accessible to the manipulator’s legs. Direct observation will presently -confirm these inferences and supplement them with details of -considerable interest, which we should never suspect from simply -examining the work. - -Before continuing, let us note how well inspired the insect is in -always boring its burrow under the heap whence the materials for the -sausage are to be extracted. The number of loads successively carried -down and pressed is considerable. Allowing a thickness of a sixth of an -inch for each layer—a figure which is near enough—I see that some fifty -journeys are needed. If the provisions had each time to be fetched from -a distance, the Geotrupes would be unable to cope with her task, which -would be too long and tiring. Her sort of work is incompatible with all -that travelling, after the fashion of the Sacred Beetle’s. She is wise -to settle beneath the heap. She has only to climb up from her well to -find under her feet, at her very door, enough to make her -black-pudding, however large she may wish it to be. - -This, it is true, presupposes a copiously supplied workyard. When -toiling on behalf of her grub, the Geotrupes keeps a look-out for one -of this kind and accepts no purveyors except the Horse and the Mule, -never the Sheep, who is too niggardly. It is not a question here of the -quality of the foodstuffs; it is a question of quantity. My cages, in -fact, tell me that the Sheep would have the preference, if she were -more generous. What she does not give normally I create artificially by -piling sheaf upon sheaf. Beneath this extraordinary treasure, the like -of which is never offered by the fields, my captives work with a zest -that shows how well they appreciate the windfall. They enrich me with -more sausages than I know what to do with. I arrange them in strata in -great pots, so that, when winter comes, I may study the actions of the -larva; I lodge them separately in glass tubes and test-tubes; I pack -them in tins. The shelves of my study are crammed with them. My -collection reminds me of an assortment of potted meats. - -The unfamiliarity of the material involves no change in the structure. -Because of its finer grain and greater plasticity, the surface is more -regular and the inside more homogeneous; and that is all. - -At the lower end of the sausage, which end is always rounded off, is -the hatching-chamber, a circular cavity which could hold a fair-sized -hazel-nut. The respiratory needs of the germ demand that the side-walls -should be thin enough to allow the air to enter freely. Inside, I catch -the gleam of a greenish, semifluid plaster, a simple exudation from the -porous mass, as in the Copris’ ovoids and the Sacred Beetle’s pears. - -In this round hollow lies the egg, without adhering in any way to the -surrounding walls. It is a white, elongated ellipsoid and is of -remarkable bulk in proportion to the insect. In the case of the -Stercoraceous Geotrupes, it measures seven to eight millimetres in -length by four at its widest point. [49] The egg of the Mimic Geotrupes -is a little smaller. - -This little hollow contrived in the substance of the sausage, at the -lower end, does not agree at all with what I have read about the -Geotrupes’ nest-building. Quoting an old German writer, Frisch, [50] an -author whom the poverty of my library does not allow me to consult, -Mulsant, [51] speaking of the Stercoraceous Geotrupes, says: - - - ‘At the bottom of her perpendicular gallery, the mother builds, - usually with earth, a sort of nest, or egg-shaped shell, open at - one side. On the inner wall of this shell she glues a whitish egg, - the size of a grain of wheat.’ - - -What can this shell be, usually made of earth and open at one side so -that the grub may reach the column of provisions overhead? I am at an -utter loss to know. Shell, especially made of earth, there is none, nor -any opening. I see and see again, as often as I wish, a round cell, -closed everywhere and built at the lower end of the food-cylinder, but -nothing else, nothing that even vaguely resembles the structure -described. - -Which of the two is responsible for the imaginary construction? Can the -German entomologist have sinned through superficial observation? Or did -the Lyons entomologist misinterpret the older author? I lack the -necessary documents to bring the mistake home to the right person. Is -it not pathetic to see these masters, who are so punctilious about a -joint of the palpi, so cantankerous about the first claim to some -barbaric appellation, almost indifferent when they come to treat of -habits and industry, which are the supreme expression of an insect’s -life? Nomenclators’ entomology is making enormous strides: it -overwhelms us, swamps us. The other, biologists’ entomology, the only -interesting branch of the science, the only one really worthy of our -attention, is neglected to such an extent that the commonest species -has no history or calls for serious revision of the little that has -been written about it. Vain lamentations: things will go on in the same -old way for a long time to come. - -To return to the Geotrupes’ sausage. Its shape is diametrically -opposite to that which we have studied in the case of the Copris and -the Sacred Beetle, who are sparing of material but very generous with -their labour, taking great care to give their work the shape best -suited to preserve it against dryness. With their ovoids and their -spheres surmounted by a neck, they are able to keep the modest -family-ration fresh. The Geotrupes knows nothing of these scientific -methods. More primitive in her ways, she sees well-being only in -overabundance. Provided that the gallery be crammed with food, she -little cares how shapeless her pile may be. - -Instead of avoiding dryness, she appears to go in search of it. Just -look at the sausage. It is inordinately long and clumsily put together. -There is no compact, impermeable rind; and there is an excessive amount -of surface, touching the earth for the whole length of the cylinder. -This is exactly what is needed to bring about quick desiccation; it is -the converse of the problem of the smallest surface, solved by the -Sacred Beetle and the others. Then what becomes of my views on the -shape of those provisions, views so well founded, according to our -logic? Can I have been taken in by a blind geometry, which achieves a -rational result by chance? - -To any one who says so let the facts reply. Here is their answer: the -manufacturers of spheres build their nests at the height of the summer, -when the ground is parched; the manufacturers of cylinders build theirs -in the autumn, when the earth becomes saturated with rain. The first -have to guard their family against the danger of bread too hard to eat. -The second know nothing of starvation through desiccation; their -provisions, potted in cool earth, retain indefinitely the proper degree -of softness. The moistness, not the shape, of the sheath is the -safeguard of the ration inside it. The rainfall at this time of the -year is in inverse ratio to that of summer; and this is enough to -render useless the precautions taken in the dog-days. - -Let us probe deeper and we shall see that the cylinder is preferable to -the sphere in autumn. When October and November come, the rains are -frequent and persistent; but a day’s sunshine is enough to dry the soil -to the shallow depth where the Geotrupes’ nest lies. It is a serious -matter not to lose the enjoyment of this fine day. How will the grub -benefit by it? - -Imagine the larva enclosed in the big ball which the copious quantity -of food placed at its disposal might well supply. Once saturated with -moisture by a shower, this sphere would retain it stubbornly, for its -form is that of least evaporation and of least contact with the -sun-warmed soil. In vain, within twenty-four hours, will the surface -layer of the ground be restored to its normal coolness: the globular -mass will retain its excess of water, for lack of adequate contact with -the sun- and air-dried earth. In the too-humid and too-thick recess, -the provisions will go musty; the heat from outside will be -inopportune, as will the air; and the larva will derive little -advantage from this late autumn sun, whose tardy rays ought to ripen it -to perfection and give it the necessary vigour to brave the trials of -winter. - -What was a good quality in July, when it was necessary to guard against -excessive dryness, becomes a bad one in October, when excessive damp is -to be avoided. The cylinder is therefore substituted for the sphere. -The new shape, with its exaggerated length, fulfils the converse -condition of that beloved by the pill-makers: here, with a similar -volume, the surface is developed to its extreme limits. Is there a -reason for this complete change? No doubt; and I seem to perceive it. -Now that dryness is no longer to be feared, will not this kind of -shape, with its large surface, enable the mass of foodstuff to get rid -of its superfluous moisture more readily? Should it rain, its wide area -certainly will make it liable to more rapid saturation; but also, when -the fine weather returns, the surplus water will soon disappear thanks -to the extensive contact with a quickly-drained soil. - -Let us conclude by enquiring how the roly-poly is manufactured. To -watch the performance in the fields appears to me a very difficult, not -to say impracticable undertaking. With my cages, success is certain, -provided that we exercise a little patience and dexterity. I let down -the board which keeps the artificial soil in place at the back. This -now reveals its vertical surface, which I explore bit by bit with the -point of a knife until I strike a burrow. If the operation be -cautiously conducted, without the disturbance due to an ill-calculated -landslip, the labourers are discovered at their toil, paralysed, it is -true, by the sudden flood of light and as it were petrified in the -attitude of work. The arrangement of the workshop and the materials, -the position and posture of the workers enable us easily to reconstruct -the scene, though it be abruptly suspended and not renewed so long as -our inspection lasts. - -One fact, to begin with, thrusts itself upon our attention, a fact of -deep interest and so exceptional that this is the first example with -which my entomological studies have presented me. In each burrow laid -bare I always find two collaborators, a pair: I find the male lending -the mother his assistance. The household duties are divided between the -two. My notes give the following scene, to which we can easily restore -its animation according to the pose of the immobilized actors. - -The male is at the back of the gallery, squatting on a length of -sausage measuring barely an inch. He occupies the basin formed through -the stuff’s being packed more tightly in the centre of each stratum. -What was he doing before the violation of his home? His attitude tells -us clearly: with his sturdy legs, especially the hind-legs, he was -pressing down the last layer placed in position. His mate occupies the -upper floor, almost at the opening of the burrow. I see her holding -between her legs a great lump of material which she has just gathered -at the bottom of the heap surmounting the house. The scare caused by my -intrusion has not made her let go. Hanging up there, above space, -braced against the walls of the pit, she clasps her burden with a sort -of cataleptic obstinacy. The nature of the interrupted work is easily -guessed: Baucis was carrying down to Philemon, the stronger of the two, -the wherewithal to continue the arduous work of piling and trampling. -After laying the egg and surrounding it with those delicate precautions -of which a mother alone possesses the secret, she had handed over the -construction of the cylinder to her companion, confining herself to -playing the humble part of a caterer’s man. - -Similar scenes, observed during different phases of the work, enable me -to draw a general picture. The sausage begins with a short, wide casing -which closely lines the bottom of the burrow. In this bag, with its -yawning mouth, I find the two sexes in the midst of materials crumbled -and possibly weeded before being pressed, so that the grub may have -first-class victuals within its reach as soon as it starts feeding. The -couple between them plaster the walls and increase their thickness -until the cavity is reduced to the size needed for the -hatching-chamber. - -This is the moment for laying the egg. Withdrawing discreetly, the male -waits with materials ready to close the cell that has just been filled. -The closing is done by bringing the edges of the sack nearer together -and adding a ceiling, a hermetically cemented lid. This is the delicate -part of the work, calling for knack much more than strength. The mother -alone attends to it. Philemon is now a mere journeyman-mason: he passes -the mortar, without being allowed on the ceiling, which his brutal -pressure might cause to fall in. - -Soon the roof, duly thickened and reinforced, has nothing more to fear -from pressure. Then the ruthless stamping begins, the rough work which -transfers the leading part to the male. In the Stercoraceous Geotrupes -the difference in size and vigour between the sexes is striking. Here -indeed we have a very exceptional case: Philemon belongs to the -stronger sex. He is distinguished by his portly figure and muscular -energy. Take him in your hand and squeeze. I defy you to stand it, if -your skin is at all sensitive to pain. With his sharp-toothed and -convulsively stiffened legs, he digs into your flesh; he slips like an -irresistible wedge into the spaces between your fingers. It is more -than you can bear; and you have to let the creature go. - -In the household he performs the function of an hydraulic press. We -subject our packs of fodder to the action of the press in order to -reduce their cumbrous bulk; he likewise compresses and reduces the -stringy materials of his sausage. It is most often the male that I find -at the top of the cylinder, a top excavated to form a deep basket. This -basket receives the load brought down by the mother; and, like the -labourer trampling on the grapes at the bottom of the vintage-tub, the -Geotrupes presses and amalgamates his materials with the convulsive -effort of his galvanic movements. The operation is so well conducted -that the new load, at first not unlike a voluminous mass of coarse -lint, becomes a compact layer uniform with the one before it. - -The mother, however, does not abdicate her rights: I find her now and -then at the bottom of the basin. Perhaps she has come to see how the -work is going on. Her touch, which is better-suited for the delicate -part of the rearing, will more readily discover the mistakes that need -correcting. Very likely also she comes to relieve her husband in these -exhausting compressive operations. She herself is strong, sturdy in the -legs and capable of working turn and turn about with her valiant -companion. - -However, her usual place is at the top of the gallery. I find her there -at one time with the armful which she has just gathered, at another -with a heap made up of several loads placed in reserve for the work -down below. As and when it is wanted, she draws upon the heap and -gradually carries the materials down to be pressed by the male. - -Between this temporary warehouse and the basin at the bottom there is a -long empty space, the lower part of which supplies us with another bit -of information as to the progress of the work. The walls are lavishly -coated with a wash extracted from the most plastic portion of the -materials. This detail is not without value. It tells us that, before -packing the food-sausage layer by layer, the insect begins by cementing -the rough and porous wall of the mould. It putties its well to protect -the grub against the damp which might ooze through in the rainy season. -Finding it impossible by pressure to harden the skin of the -tightly-packed sausage to the requisite degree, it adopts a means -unknown to the Beetles that labour in large workshops; it coats the -earthy casing with cement. In this way it avoids, so far as lies in its -power, the risk of drowning on rainy days. - -This waterproofing is done at intervals, as the cylinder grows in -length. The mother appears to me to attend to it whenever her warehouse -of provisions is sufficiently stocked to give her the time. While her -companion is pressing, she, an inch higher up, is plastering. - -At last the combined efforts of husband and wife result in a cylinder -of the regulation length. The greater part of the well above remains -empty and uncemented. Nothing tells me that the Geotrupes trouble about -this unoccupied area. Scarabæi and Copres shoot into the -entrance-passage to the underground chamber a portion of the rubbish -extracted; they build a barricade in front of the dwelling. The -sausage-makers seem to be unfamiliar with this precaution. All the -burrows which I inspect are empty in the upper part. There is no sign -of excavated earth put back and pressed into position; there is merely -a little fallen rubbish, coming either from the dung-heap above or from -the crumbling walls. - -This neglect might well be ascribed to the thick roof that surmounts -the house. Remember that the Geotrupes generally settle under the -copious provender which the Horse and the Mule bestow upon them. Under -such a shelter, is it really necessary to bolt one’s door? Besides, the -rough weather looks after the closing for them. The roof falls in, the -earth slips and the yawning pit soon fills up without the assistance of -those who dug it. - -Just now my pen ventured to write the names of Philemon and Baucis. As -a matter of fact, the Geotrupes couple do in certain respects recall -the peaceful mythological household. What is the male, in the insect -world? Once the wedding has been celebrated, he is an incompetent, an -idler, a good-for-nothing, a drug in the market whom others shun and -sometimes even get rid of by atrocious means. The Praying Mantis [52] -tells us tragic enough things in this connection. - -Now here, by a very curious exception, the sluggard becomes a toiler; -the lover of the moment a faithful husband; the careless parent a -serious paterfamilias. The brief meeting changes into a lasting -partnership. Married life, domestic life comes into being: a glorious -innovation; and the pioneer is a Dung-beetle! Go downwards: there is -nothing resembling it; go upwards: for a long time there is still -nothing. We have to mount to the top of the scale. - -Take that little fish of our brooks, the Stickleback. The male knows -very well how to build out of algæ and different water-weeds a nest, a -snuggery, in which the female will come and spawn; but he knows nothing -of work shared in common. The cares of a family in which the mother -takes little interest fall upon him alone. No matter: there is one step -gained, a great one and especially a very remarkable one among fishes, -who are so supremely indifferent to family-affection and substitute an -appalling fecundity for the trouble of breeding. Fabulous numbers make -good the voids due to the lack of industry in the parents, even in the -mother, a mere bag for eggs. - -Certain Toads attempt the duties of paternity; and then we have nothing -more till we come to the bird, that paragon of the domestic virtues. -Here we find married life in all its moral beauty. A contract turns the -couple into two collaborators, both equally zealous for the prosperity -of the family. The father takes just as much part as the mother in the -building of the nest, the quest of provisions, the distribution of each -mouthful and the supervision of the youngsters as they try their wings -preliminary to their first flight. - -Standing still higher in the animal scale, the mammal carries on the -wonderful example without adding to it; on the contrary, it often -simplifies things. Man remains and has no prouder title to nobility -than his unwearying care for the family, that alliance which is never -dissolved. To our shame, I admit, a few individuals deny their -responsibility and sink below the level of the Toad. - -The Geotrupes rivals the bird. The nest is the joint production of -husband and wife. The father puts the various layers together and -compresses them; the mother plasters the walls, fetches fresh loads and -places them under the presser’s feet. This home, the outcome of the -couple’s efforts, is also a storehouse of provisions. Here we see no -mouthfuls distributed to the children from day to day, but the -food-problem is solved none the less: the united labours of the two -partners result in the sumptuous sausage. Father and mother have done -their duty splendidly; they bequeath to the grub an eminently -well-furnished larder. - -A pair that continue to exist as such, a couple that join forces and -unite their industry for their offspring’s welfare, certainly represent -enormous progress, perhaps the greatest in the animal kingdom. One day, -in the midst of the isolated existences, the household appeared, the -invention of an inspired Dung-beetle. How is it that his magnificent -acquirement is the property of a few, instead of extending all around, -from one species to another, throughout the guild? Can it be that -Scarabæi and Copres would have nothing to gain, in saving of time and -labour, if the mother, instead of working alone, had an assistant? -Things would move faster, so it seems to me, and a more numerous family -would be permissible, a possibility not to be despised when one has an -eye to the prosperity of the species. - -How, on his side, did the Geotrupes think of combining the two sexes in -building the nest and stocking the larder? The abrupt transformation of -the usual airy paternity of the insect into something that rivals -motherhood in tenderness is so serious and so rare an event that we -long to discover the cause of it, if indeed we may hope to do so with -the sorry means of information at our disposal. One idea occurs to us -at once: may there not be some connection between the male’s superior -size and his liking for hard work? Endowed with greater robustness and -vigour than the mother, he who is usually so lazy has become a zealous -helper; the love of work has come from a surplus of unspent strength. - -Take care: this apparent explanation will not hold water. The two sexes -of the Mimic Geotrupes scarcely differ in size; the advantage is often -even in the female’s favour; and nevertheless the male lends assistance -to his companion: he is as eager a well-sinker, as energetic a presser -as his big stercoraceous kinsman. - -And here is a still more conclusive argument: among the Anthidia, [53] -those Bees who weave cotton-stuffs or knead resin, the male, though -much larger than the female, is an absolute idler. He, so strong, so -stout of limb, take part in the work! Never! Let the mother, the feeble -mother, wear herself out while he, powerful fellow that he is, frolics -among the speedwell and the lavender. - -It is not physical strength, therefore, that has made the Geotrupian -paterfamilias into a worker devoted to his children’s welfare. And this -is as much as our investigations tell us. To pursue the problem would -be a vain endeavour. The origin of faculties escapes us. Why is this -gift bestowed here and that gift there? Who knows? Can we indeed ever -hope to know? - -One point alone stands out clearly: instinct is not dependent on -structure. - -The Geotrupes have been known from time immemorial; conscientious -entomologists, peering through their magnifying-glasses, have examined -them down to their smallest details; and no one has yet suspected their -marvellous privilege of keeping house in common. Above the monotonous -level of the ocean suddenly emerge the headlands of lonely little -islands, scattered here and there, whose existence none can suspect -until geography has added them to her charts. Even so do the peaks of -instinct rear their crests above the ocean of life. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE GEOTRUPES: THE LARVA - - -The egg takes from one to two weeks to hatch, according as it is laid -in October or September. As a rule the hatching takes place in the -first fortnight of October. The larva grows pretty quickly and soon -manifests very different characteristics from those displayed by the -other Dung-beetles. We find ourselves in a new world, full of -surprises. The grub is folded in two, it is bent into a hook, as -required by the narrowness of the cell, which is scooped out gradually -as the inside of the sausage is consumed. - -Even so did the grubs of the Sacred Beetle, the Copris and the others -comport themselves; but the larva of the Geotrupes has not the hump -that gave the first-named such an ungainly figure. Its back is curved -regularly. This entire absence of a knapsack, of a putty-bag, points to -different habits. The larva, in fact, is not acquainted with the art of -plugging crevices. If I contrive an opening in the part of the sausage -which it occupies, I do not see it taking note of the hole, turning -round and forthwith repairing the damage with a few pats of a trowel -well supplied with cement. The access of the air does not trouble it -apparently, or rather there is no provision against this in its means -of defence. - -You have only to take a glance at its dwelling. What would be the use -of the plasterer’s art of stopping up crannies, when the house simply -cannot crack? Closely moulded in the cylinder of the burrow, the -sausage is preserved from crumbling to dust by the support of its -mould. The Sacred Beetle’s pear, which is free on every side in a large -underground cavity, often swells, splits, peels off. The Geotrupes’ -sausage, being packed in a casing, is free from these imperfections. -Besides, if it were to burst, the accident would not be serious, for -now, in autumn and winter, in a soil that is always damp and fresh, -there is no fear of that desiccation which is so greatly dreaded by the -pill-rollers. Hence there is no special industry designed to circumvent -a peril that is unlikely and of little consequence; no excessively -docile intestine to keep the trowel supplied; no ugly hump to act as a -mortar-magazine. The inexhaustible evacuator of our earlier studies -disappears and is replaced by a grub whose motions are more moderate. - -Obviously, big eater as the larva is and, moreover, sequestered in a -cell allowing of no communication with the outside, it is utterly -ignorant of what we call cleanliness. Let us not take this to mean that -it is disgustingly filthy, soiled with excrement: we should be making a -grave mistake. Nothing could be neater or glossier than its satiny -skin. We wonder what pains it must take over its toilet, or else what -special grace enables all these eaters of ordure to keep themselves so -clean. Seeing them outside their usual environment, no one would -suspect their sordid life. - -We must look elsewhere for any defect in cleanliness, if indeed it is -right to give the name of defect to a quality which, all things -considered, makes for the creature’s good. Language, the one and only -mirror of our thoughts, easily goes astray and becomes treacherous when -attempting to express reality. Let us substitute the larva’s point of -view for our own, let us throw off the man and become the Dung-beetle: -offensive epithets will disappear forthwith. - -The grub, that mighty eater, has no relations with the outside world. -What is it to do with the remains of what it has digested? Far from -being embarrassed by them, it takes advantage of them, as do many other -solitaries cabined in a shell. It uses them to keep out the draughts -from its hermitage and to pad it with quilting. It spreads them into a -soft couch, grateful to its delicate skin; it builds them into a -polished niche, a water-tight alcove which will protect the long winter -torpor. I told you that one had but to imagine one’s self a Dung-beetle -for a moment in order to change one’s language utterly. Behold that -which was hateful and burdensome turned into something of value, which -will contribute largely to the grub’s welfare. Onthophagi and Copres, -Scarabæi and Gymnopleuri have accustomed us to this kind of industry. - -The sausage is in an upright position, or nearly so. The -hatching-chamber is at the bottom end. As the grub grows, it attacks -the provisions overhead, but does not touch the wall around, which is -of considerable thickness. It has indeed so huge a dish at its disposal -that abstinence becomes no difficult matter. The Sacred Beetle’s grub, -which has no occasion to take precautions against the winter, has a -very skimpy helping. Its little pear is a niggardly ration and is -consumed throughout, all but a slender wall, which the inmate, however, -takes care to thicken and strengthen with a good layer of its mortar. -The grub of the Geotrupes is very differently situated. It is supplied -with a colossal sausage, representing nearly a dozen times as much as -the other provisions. However well endowed it be with stomach and -appetite, it could not possibly consume the whole lot. Besides, the -question of food is not the only one to be considered this time: there -is also the serious matter of the hibernation. The parents foresaw the -severity of the winter and bequeathed their sons the wherewithal to -face it. The giant roly-poly will become a blanket against the cold. - -The grub, as a matter of fact, gnaws bit by bit the part above and -scoops out a corridor just wide enough to pass through. In this way, a -very thick wall is left intact, the central part alone being consumed. -As the sheath is bored, the sides are at the same time cemented and -lined with the evacuations of the intestine. Any excess product -accumulates and forms a rampart behind. - -So long as the weather remains favourable, the grub moves about in its -gallery; it takes its stand above or below and attacks the provisions -with a tooth that grows daily more languid. Five or six weeks are thus -passed in banqueting; then comes the cold weather, bringing the winter -torpor with it. The grub now digs itself an oval recess, polished by -much wriggling of its body, at the lower end of its case, in the mass -of material which digestion has transformed into a fine paste; it -protects itself with a curved canopy; and it is ready to enjoy its -winter slumbers. It can sleep in peace. If its parents have installed -it underground at an inconsiderable depth to which the frost -penetrates, at any rate they have increased the supply of victuals to -the utmost. The effect of this enormous superfluity is to provide an -excellent dwelling for the bad weather. - -In December the grub is full-grown, or not far short of it. If the -temperature only lent a hand, the nymphosis would now be due. But times -are hard; and the grub, in its wisdom, decides to defer the delicate -work of transformation. Sturdy creature that it is, it will be able to -resist the cold much better than the nymph, that frail beginning of a -new life. It therefore has patience and tarries in a state of torpor. I -take it from its cell to examine it. - -Convex on top and almost flat below, the larva is a semicylinder bent -into a hook. There is an entire absence of the hump belonging to the -previous Dung-beetles; likewise of any terminal trowel. The plasterer’s -art of repairing crevices being unknown here, there is no need for the -cement-pot or the spreading-utensil. The creature’s skin is smooth and -white, clouded in the hinder half by the dark contents of the -intestines. Sparse hairs, some fairly long, others very short, stand up -on the median and dorsal region of the segments. They apparently serve -to help the grub move about its cell by the mere wriggling of its -hinder part. The head is neither big nor small and is pale-yellow in -colour; the mandibles are large and brown at the tip. - -But let us leave these details, which are of no great interest, and say -at once that the creature’s prominent characteristic is supplied by its -legs. The first two pairs are pretty long, especially for an animal -leading a sedentary life in a narrow cabin. They are normally -constructed; and it must be their strength that allows the grub to -clamber about inside its pudding, converted into a sheath by eating. -But the third pair presents a peculiarity of which I know no example -elsewhere. - -The limbs forming this pair are rudimentary legs, crippled from birth, -impotent, arrested in their development. They give one the impression -of lifeless stumps. Their length is hardly a third of that of the -others. More remarkable still, instead of pointing downwards like the -normal legs, they shrivel upwards, turning towards the back, and remain -indefinitely in that queer attitude, twisted and stiff. I cannot -succeed in seeing the animal make the slightest use of them. -Nevertheless they show the same joints as the others; but this is all -on a greatly reduced scale, pale and inert. In short, a couple of words -will distinguish the Geotrupes’ larva without any possibility of -confusion: hind-legs atrophied. - -This feature is so plain, so striking, so extraordinary that the least -observant among us cannot mistake it. A grub crippled by nature and so -evidently crippled enforces itself on our attention. What do the books -say about it? Nothing, so far as I know. The few which I have with me -are silent on this point. Mulsant, it is true, described the larva of -the Stercoraceous Geotrupes; but he makes no mention of its exceptional -structure. In his anxiety to describe the minutest details of the -organism, has he lost sight of this monstrosity? Labrum, palpi, -antennæ, the number of joints, the hairs: all this is set down and -scrutinized; and the lifeless legs reduced to stumps are passed over in -silence. Are the experts then so busy with the Gnat that they cannot -see the Camel? I give it up. - -Observe also that the hind-legs of the perfect insect are longer and -stronger than the middle-legs and vie with the fore-legs in vigour. The -atrophied limbs of the grub, therefore, become the adult’s powerful -pressing-machine; the impotent stumps change into strong -stamping-tools. - -Who will tell us the origin of these anomalies now thrice observed -among the dung-workers? The Sacred Beetle, who is sound in every limb -during his infancy, loses his fore-fingers when the adult form appears; -the Onthophagus, who sports a horn on his thorax in his nymphal stage, -drops it and does without the ornament in the end; the Geotrupes, at -first a limping grub, turns his useless stumps into the best of his -levers. The last-named makes progress; the others retrocede. Why does -the cripple become able-bodied and why do the able-bodied become -cripples? - -We make chemical analyses of the suns; we surprise the nebulæ in labour -and watch the birth of worlds; and shall we never know why a miserable -grub is born limping? Come, ye divers who fathom life’s mysteries, -descend a little lower into the depths and at least bring us back that -humble pearl, the reply to the problems of the Geotrupes and the Sacred -Beetle! - -When the weather is severe, what becomes of the larva in the retreat -which it has succeeded in making at the far end of its box? The -exceptional cold of January and February 1895 will answer this -question. My cages, always left in the open air, had repeatedly -undergone a drop in temperature of some ten degrees below -freezing-point. In this arctic weather, I conceived a wish to go in -search of information and learn how things were progressing in my -unprotected cages. - -I could not manage it. The bed of earth, wetted by the earlier rains, -had become a compact block throughout, which I should have had to break -up like a stone with a hammer and chisel. Extraction by violent means -was not practicable: I should have endangered everything with my -hammering. On the other hand, if any life remained in the frozen mass, -I should have placed it in jeopardy by changing the temperature too -suddenly. It was better to await the very slow natural thaw. - -Early in March I inspect the cages again. This time there is no ice -left. The earth is yielding and easy to dig. All the adult Geotrupes -have died, bequeathing me a fresh supply of sausages, almost as -plentiful as that which I had gathered and placed in safety in October. -They have all perished; there is not a single survivor. Is cold or old -age to blame? - -At this very time and later, in April and May, when the new generation -is wholly in the larval or at most in the nymphal stage, I often find -adult Geotrupes busy in their scavenging-works. The old ones therefore -see a second spring; they live long enough to know their children and -to work with them, as do the Scarabæi, the Copres and others. These -early ones are veterans. They have escaped the hardships of winter -because they have been able to bury themselves far enough underground. -Mine, kept captive between a few boards, have died for want of a -sufficiently deep pit. At a time when they needed three feet of earth -to shelter themselves, they had less than twelve inches. It was cold, -therefore, that killed them, rather than age. - -The low temperature, while fatal to the adult, has spared the larva. -The few sausages left in position after my October diggings contain the -grub in excellent condition. The protecting sheath has fulfilled its -office to perfection: it has preserved the sons from the catastrophe -that caused the death of the parents. - -The other cylinders, fashioned in the course of November, contain -something even more remarkable. In their hatching-chamber, at the -bottom, they hold an egg, all plump and shiny and as healthy-looking as -though it had been laid that day. Can life still exist there? Is it -possible, after the best part of the winter has been passed in a block -of ice? I dare not believe it. The sausage itself has not an attractive -appearance. It is darkened by fermentation, smells musty and does not -suggest food worth having. - -At all events, I will take the precaution of bottling the miserable -puddings, after ascertaining that the egg is there in each case. I was -well-advised. The fresh aspect of the germs, after wintering under such -rude conditions, did not belie them. The hatching was soon effected; -and early in May the late arrivals were almost as well-developed as -their seniors, hatched in the autumn. - -Some interesting facts are revealed by this piece of observation. First -of all, the laying-period of the Geotrupes is a fairly long one, -lasting from September to some time in November. At that date the first -hoar-frosts begin; the soil is not warm enough to hatch the eggs; and -the last ones, unable to hatch as swiftly as their predecessors, wait -for the return of the fine weather. A few mild April days are enough to -reawaken their suspended vitality. Then the usual evolution goes on, -and this so rapidly that, notwithstanding a delay of five or six -months, the backward larvæ are very nearly as big as the others by May, -when the first nymphs appear. - -Secondly, the Geotrupes’ eggs are capable of enduring the trials of -severe cold unscathed. I do not know the exact temperature inside the -frozen block which I tried to tackle with a mason’s chisel. Outside, -the thermometer sometimes fell to ten degrees below freezing-point; -and, as the cold period lasted a long time, we may believe that the -layer of earth in my boxes was equally cold. Now the Geotrupes’ -puddings were enclosed in that frozen mass turned to a block of stone. -A generous allowance must no doubt be made for the non-conductivity of -these puddings composed of thready materials; the wall of dung did, to -a certain extent, protect the larva and the egg against the biting -cold, which, if experienced direct, would have been fatal. No matter: -in that atmosphere the dung-cylinders, damp at the start, must in the -long run have acquired the hardness of stone. In their -hatching-chamber, in the tunnel made by the larva, the temperature -undoubtedly sank below freezing-point. - -Then what became of the grub and the egg? Were they really frozen? -Everything seems to tell us so. That this most delicate of all delicate -things, a germ, a rudiment of life in a blob of glair, should harden, -turn into a bit of stone and then resume its vitality and continue its -evolution after thawing seems inadmissible. And yet circumstances -confirm it. We should have to credit the Geotrupes’ sausages with -athermanous properties unequalled by any other substance to regard them -as a sufficient protection against such intense and lasting -refrigeration. What a pity that we could derive no information from the -thermometer in this instance! After all, if complete freezing is -unproven, one point has been established for certain: the egg and the -grub of the Geotrupes can support and survive very low temperatures in -their protecting sheath. - -Since the occasion presents itself, let me say a few more words on the -insect’s powers of resisting cold. Some years ago, while looking for -Scolia-cocoons in a heap of mould, I had made a large collection of the -grubs of Cetonia aurata. [54] I placed my loot in a flower-pot with a -few handfuls of decayed vegetable matter, just enough to cover the -insects’ backs. I intended to draw upon them for certain enquiries -which I was making at the time. The pot remained in the open air; and I -forgot all about it. A cold snap came, accompanied by sharp frost and -snow. Then I remembered my Cetoniæ, so ill-protected against this kind -of weather. I found the contents of the pot hardened into a -conglomeration of earth, dead leaves, ice, snow and shrivelled grubs. -It was a sort of almond-rock, in which the larvæ stood for the almonds. -Sorely tried by the cold as they were, the colony ought to have -perished. But no: when the thaw arrived, the frozen larvæ came to life -again and began to swarm about as though nothing unusual had happened. - -The insect’s powers of endurance are less great than the larva’s. As -the organization becomes more refined, it loses its robustness. My -cages, which went through such a bad time in the winter of 1895, -provided me with a striking instance. A few species—Scarabæi, Copres, -Pilularii and Onthophagi—were represented at the same time by newcomers -and old stagers. All the Geotrupes, without an exception, died in the -earthy bed which had turned into a block of stone; the Minotaurs also -succumbed, every one of them. And yet both find their way up north and -are not afraid of cold climates. On the other hand, the southern -species, the Sacred Beetle, the Spanish Copris and Pilularius -flagellatus, the younger generation as well as the veterans, withstood -the winter better than I dared hope. Many of them died, it is true; -they formed the majority; but at any rate there were survivors whom I -marvelled to see recovering from their icy paralysis, trotting about -under the first kisses of the sun. In April, those specimens which have -escaped from freezing resume their labours. They teach me that, when at -liberty, Copres and Scarabæi have no need to retire to winter quarters -at great depths underground. A moderate screen of earth, in some -sheltered nook, is enough for them. Less skilful diggers than the -Geotrupes, they are better provided with the power to resist a passing -spell of cold. - -We will end this digression by remarking, as so many others have done, -that agriculture cannot reckon on the cold weather to rid it of its -dread enemy, the insect. Very hard frosts, lasting a long time and -penetrating well beneath the surface of the soil, can destroy various -species which are not able to go down low enough; but a great many -survive. Moreover, the grub and especially the egg in many cases defy -our severest winters. - -The first five days of April put an end to the torpor of the larvæ of -both Geotrupes, snuggling on the bottom floor of their cylinder, in a -temporary cell. Activity returns, bringing with it a last flicker of -appetite. The remains of the autumn banquet are plentiful. The grub -makes use of them no longer for greedy feasting, but just as a midnight -snack between two slumbers, that of winter and the deeper sleep of the -metamorphosis. Hence the sides of the sheath are attacked -spasmodically. Breaches yawn, sections of wall come tumbling down, and -soon the edifice is nothing but an unrecognizable ruin. - -The lower portion of the original sausage remains, however, with its -walls intact for a length of an inch or two. Here, in a thick layer, -the grub’s excreta are accumulated, held in reserve for the final work. -In the centre of this mass a hollow is dug, carefully polished inside. -With the excavated rubbish the grub builds not just a canopy, like that -with which the winter alcove was protected, but a solid lid, with a -rough outer surface, in appearance not unlike the work of the Cetoniæ -when they wrap themselves in a shell of mould. This lid, with what is -left of the pudding, forms a habitation which would remind us pretty -closely of the Cockchafer’s dwelling, were it not truncated in the -upper part, which moreover is most often topped by a few remnants from -the destroyed cylinder. - -The grub is now shut in for the transformation, motionless, with its -body emptied of all dross. In a few days a blister appears on the -dorsal surface of the last abdominal segments. This swells, spreads and -gradually extends as far as the thorax. It is the work of excoriation -beginning. Distended by a colourless liquid, the blister gives an -uncertain glimpse of a sort of milky cloud, the first blurred outline -of the new organism. - -The thorax splits in front, the cast skin is slowly pushed backwards, -and at last we have the nymph, all white, half-opaque and -half-crystalline. I obtain my first nymphs about the beginning of May. - -Four or five weeks later, the perfect insect arrives, white on the -wing-cases and belly, while the rest of the body already possesses the -normal colouring. The chromatic evolution is quickly completed; and, -before the end of June, the Geotrupes, now perfectly matured, emerges -from the soil at twilight and flies off to start on his scavenger’s job -without delay. The laggards, those whose egg has gone through the -winter, are still in the white nymphal stage when their elders effect -their release. Not before September is nigh will they burst their natal -shell and, in their turn, sally forth to aid in the cleansing of the -fields. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE SISYPHUS: THE INSTINCT OF PATERNITY - - -The duties of paternity are hardly ever imposed on any except the -higher animals. The bird excels in them; and the furred folk perform -them honourably. Lower in the scale, the father is generally -indifferent to his family. Very few insects form exceptions to this -rule. Whereas all display a frenzied ardour in propagating their -species, nearly all, having satisfied the passion of the moment, -promptly break off domestic relations and retire, heedless of their -brood, which must do the best that it can for itself. - -This paternal coldness, which would be detestable in the higher ranks -of the animal kingdom, where the weakness of the young demands -prolonged assistance, has here as its excuse the robustness of the -new-born insect, which is able unaided to gather its food, provided -that it be in a propitious place. When all that the Pieris need do, to -safeguard the prosperity of the race, is to lay her eggs on the leaves -of a cabbage, what use would a father’s solicitude be? The mother’s -botanical instinct requires no assistance. At laying-time, the other -parent would be an obstacle. Let him go and flirt elsewhere; he would -only be in the way at this critical season. - -Most insects are equally summary in their educational methods. They -have but to choose the refectory which will be the home of the family -once it is hatched, or else a place that will allow their young to find -suitable fare for themselves. There is no need for the father in these -cases. After the wedding, therefore, the unoccupied male, henceforth -useless, drags out a languid existence for a few days more and at last -dies without lending the least assistance in the work of setting up his -offspring in life. - -Things do not always happen in quite such a primitive fashion. There -are tribes that provide a dower for their families, that prepare board -and lodging for them in advance. The Bees and Wasps, in particular, are -masters in the industry of making cellars, jars and satchels in which -the mess of honey for the young is hoarded; they are perfect in the art -of creating burrows stocked with the game that forms the food of their -grubs. - -Well, this enormous labour, which is one of building and provisioning -combined, this toil, in which the insect’s whole life is spent, is done -by the mother alone. It wears her out, it utterly exhausts her. The -father, drunk with sunlight, stands by the edge of the workyard -watching his plucky helpmate at her job and considers himself to have -done all the work that he is called upon to do when he has toyed a -little with his fair neighbours. - -Why does he not lend the mother a helping hand? It is now or never. Why -does he not follow the example of the Swallow couple, both of whom -bring their bit of straw, their blob of mortar to the building, their -Midge to the brood? He does nothing of the kind, perhaps alleging his -comparative weakness as an excuse. It is a poor argument, for to cut a -disk out of a leaf, to scrape some cotton from a downy plant, to -collect a little bit of cement in muddy places would not overtax his -strength. He could very easily help, at any rate as a labourer; he is -quite fit to gather the materials for the mother, with her greater -intelligence, to fix in place. The real reason of his inactivity is -sheer ineptitude. - -It is strange that the Hymenopteron, the most gifted of the industrial -insects, should know nothing of paternal labour. The male, in whom one -would think that the needs of the young ought to develop the highest -aptitudes, remains as dull-witted as a Butterfly, whose family is -established at so small a cost. The bestowal of instinct baffles our -most reasonable conjectures. - -It baffles them so thoroughly that we are extremely surprised when we -find in the muck-raker the noble prerogative denied to the -honey-gatherer. Various Dung-beetles are accustomed to help in the -burden of housekeeping and know the value of working in double harness. -Remember the Geotrupes couple, preparing their larva’s portion -together; think of the father lending his mate the assistance of his -powerful press in the manufacture of the tight-packed sausages, a -splendid example of domestic habits and one extremely surprising amid -the general egoism. - -To this example, hitherto unique, my constant studies of the subject -enable me to-day to add three others, which are equally interesting; -and all three are likewise furnished by the Dung-beetle guild. I will -describe them, but briefly, for in many particulars their story is the -same as that of the Sacred Beetle, the Spanish Copris and the others. - -The first case is that of the Sisyphus (S. Schæfferi, Lin.), the -smallest and most zealous of our pill-rollers. He is the liveliest and -most agile of them all, recking nothing of awkward somersaults and -headlong falls on the impossible tracks to which his obstinacy brings -him back again and again. It was in memory of these wild gymnastics -that Latreille gave him the name of Sisyphus, famous in the annals of -Tartarus. The unhappy wretch had the terrible task of having to roll a -huge stone up hill; and each time he had toiled to the top of the -mountain the stone would slip from his grasp and roll to the bottom. -Try again, poor Sisyphus, try again and go on trying: your punishment -will not be over until the rock is firmly fixed up there. - -I like this myth. It is in a fashion the history of a good many of us, -not detestable scoundrels worthy of eternal torments, but decent, -hard-working folk, doing their duty by their neighbours. They have one -crime only to expiate: that of poverty. So far as I am concerned, for -half a century and more I have painfully climbed that steep ascent, -leaving garments stained with blood and sweat on its sharp crags; I -have strained every nerve, drained myself dry, spent my strength -recklessly in the struggle to hoist up to safety that crushing burden, -my daily bread; and hardly is the loaf balanced when it slips off, -slides down and is lost in the abyss. Try again, poor Sisyphus, try -again until the load, falling for the last time, smashes your head and -sets you free at last. - -The Sisyphus of the naturalists knows none of these bitter trials. -Untroubled by the steep slopes, he gaily trundles his load, at one time -bread for himself, at another for his children. He is very scarce in -these parts; and I should never have managed to procure a suitable -number of subjects for my purpose, but for an assistant whom I ought to -present to the reader, for he will play his part more than once in -these narratives. - -I speak of my son Paul, a little chap of seven. My assiduous companion -on my hunting-expeditions, he knows better than any one of his age the -secrets of the Cicada, the Locust, the Cricket and especially the -Dung-beetle, his great delight. Twenty paces away, his sharp eyes will -distinguish the real mound that marks a burrow from casual heaps of -earth; his delicate ears catch the Grasshopper’s faint stridulation, -which to me remains silence. He lends me his sight and hearing; and I, -in exchange, present him with ideas, which he receives attentively, -raising wide, blue, questioning eyes to mine. - -Oh, what an adorable thing is the first blossoming of the intellect; -what a beautiful age is that when innocent curiosity awakens, enquiring -into all things! So little Paul has his own vivarium, in which the -Sacred Beetle makes pears for him; his own little garden, no larger -than a pocket-handkerchief, where he grows beans, often digging them up -to see if the tiny roots are growing longer; his forest plantation, in -which stand four oaks a hand’s-breadth high, still furnished on one -side with the twin-breasted acorn that feeds them. It all makes a -welcome change from dry grammar, which gets on none the worse for it. - -What beautiful and delightful things natural history could put into -children’s heads if science would but stoop to charm the young; if our -barracks of colleges would but add the living study of the fields to -the lifeless study of books; if the red tape of the curriculum beloved -by bureaucrats did not strangle any eager initiative! Little Paul, my -boy, let us study as much as we can in the open country, among the -rosemary- and arbutus-shrubs. By so doing, we shall gain in vigour of -body and mind; we shall find more of the true and the beautiful than in -any old musty books. - -To-day we are giving the blackboard a rest; it is a holiday. We get up -early, in view of the contemplated expedition, so early indeed that you -will have to start without your breakfast. Have no fear: when your -appetite comes, we will call a halt in the shade and you shall find in -my bag the usual viaticum, an apple and a piece of bread. The month of -May is near at hand; the Sisyphus must have appeared. What we have to -do now is to explore, at the foot of the mountain, the lean meadows -where the flocks have been; we shall have to break with our fingers, -one by one, the cakes dropped by the Sheep and baked by the sun, but -still retaining a kernel of crumb under their crust. There we shall -find the Sisyphus huddled, waiting for the fresher windfall with which -the evening grazers will supply him. - -Instructed in this secret, which I learnt long ago from chance -discoveries, little Paul forthwith becomes a master in the art of -shelling Sheep-droppings. He displays such zeal and such an instinct -for the best morsels that, after a very few halts, I am rich beyond my -fondest hopes. Behold me the proud owner of six couples of Sisyphi, an -unprecedented treasure, which I was far from expecting. - -It will not be necessary to rear these in the vivarium. A wire-gauze -cover is enough, with a bed of sand and a supply of victuals to their -liking. They are so small, hardly the size of a cherry-stone! And so -curious in shape withal! Dumpy body: the hinder end pointed; and very -long legs, resembling a Spider’s when outspread: the hind-legs are of -inordinate length and curved, which is most useful for clasping and -squeezing the pellet. - -Pairing takes place about the beginning of May, on the surface of the -ground, amid the remains of the cake on which the couple have been -feasting. Soon the time comes for establishing the family. With equal -zeal, husband and wife alike take part in kneading, carting and stowing -away the bread for the children. With the cleaver of the fore-legs a -morsel of the right size is cut from the lump placed at their disposal. -Father and mother manipulate the piece together, giving it little pats, -pressing it and fashioning it into a ball as large as a big pea. - -As in the Sacred Beetle’s workshop, the mathematically round shape is -obtained without the mechanical trick of rolling the ball. The fragment -is modelled into a sphere before it is moved, before it is even -loosened from its support. Here again we have an expert in geometry -familiar with the form that is best adapted to make preserved -foodstuffs keep for a long time. - -The pellet is soon ready. It must now, by vigorous rolling, be made to -acquire the crust which will protect the crumb from too-rapid -evaporation. The mother, who can be recognized by her slightly larger -size, harnesses herself in the place of honour, in front. With her long -hind-legs on the ground and her fore-legs on the ball, she hauls it -towards her backwards. The father pushes behind in the reverse -position, head downwards. It is precisely the same method as the Sacred -Beetle’s, when working in twos, but with another object. The Sisyphus -team convey a larva’s dowry, whereas the big pill-rollers trundle a -banquet which the two fortuitous partners will eat up underground. - -The couple start, for no definite goal, across such impediments as the -ground may present. These obstacles are impossible to avoid in this -backward march; and, if they were perceived, the Sisyphus would not try -to go round them, as witness her obstinacy in trying to climb the -wirework of the cage. This is an arduous and impracticable enterprise. -Clawing the meshes of the gauze with her hind-legs, the mother pulls -the load towards her; then, putting her fore-legs round it, she holds -it suspended. The father, finding nothing to stand upon, clings to the -ball, encrusts himself in it, so to speak, adding his weight to that of -the lump and taking no further pains. The effort is too great to last. -The ball and its rider, forming one mass, fall to the floor. The -mother, from above, looks for a moment in surprise and forthwith drops -down to recover the load and renew her impossible attempt to scale the -side. After repeated falls, the ascent is abandoned. - -The carting on level ground is not effected without impediment either. -At every moment the load swerves on the mound made by a bit of gravel; -and the team topple over and kick about, with their bellies in the air. -This is a trifle, the veriest trifle. The two pick themselves up and -resume their positions as cheerily as ever. These tumbles, which so -often fling the Sisyphus on his back, cause him no concern; one would -even think that they were sought for. After all, the pill has to be -matured, to receive consistency. And, under these conditions, bumps, -blows, falls and jolts are all part of the programme. This mad -steeplechasing goes on for hours. - -At last the mother, regarding the work as completed, goes off a little -way in search of a favourable site. The father mounts guard, squatting -on the treasure. If his companion’s absence be prolonged, he relieves -his boredom by spinning the ball nimbly between his uplifted hind-legs. -He juggles after a fashion with the precious pellet; he tests its -perfection with the curved branches of his compasses. To see him -frisking in that jubilant attitude, who can doubt his lively -satisfaction as a paterfamilias assured of the future of his children? - -‘It’s I,’ he seems to say, ‘it’s I who kneaded this round, soft loaf; -it’s I who made this bread for my sons!’ - -And he lifts on high, for all to see, this magnificent testimonial to -his industry. - -Meanwhile, the mother has selected the site. A shallow pit is made, a -mere beginning of the projected burrow. The ball is rolled near it. The -father, that vigilant guardian, does not let go, while the mother digs -with her legs and forehead. Soon the hollow is big enough to hold the -pellet, the sacred thing which she insists on having quite close to -her: she must feel it bobbing up and down behind her, on her back, safe -from parasites, before she decides to go farther. She is afraid of what -might happen to the little loaf if it were left on the threshold of the -burrow until the home was completed. There are plenty of Aphodii and -Midges to grab it. One cannot be too careful. - -The pellet therefore is inserted, half in and half out of the -partly-formed basin. The mother, underneath, gets her legs round it and -pulls; the father, above, lets it down gently and sees that the hole is -not choked up with falling earth. All goes well. The digging is resumed -and the descent continues, always with the same caution, one of the -Sisyphi pulling the load, the other regulating the drop and clearing -away anything that might hinder the operation. A few more efforts; and -the ball disappears underground with the two miners. What follows for -some time to come can be only a repetition of what we have just seen. -Let us wait half a day or so. - -If we have kept careful watch, we shall see the father come up again to -the surface by himself and crouch in the sand near the burrow. Detained -below by duties in which her companion can be of no assistance to her, -the mother usually postpones her appearance till the morrow. At last -she shows herself. The father leaves the place where he was snoozing -and joins her. The reunited couple go back to the heap of victuals, -refresh themselves and then cut out another piece, on which again the -two work together, both as regards the modelling and the carting and -storing. - -I am delighted with this conjugal fidelity. That it is really the rule -I dare not declare. There must be flighty Beetles who, in the -hurly-burly under a spreading cake, forget the first fair pastry-cook -whom they helped with her baking and devote themselves to others, met -by chance; there must be temporary couples, who divorce each other -after producing a single pill. No matter: the little that I have seen -gives me a high opinion of the Sisyphus’ domestic habits. - -Let us recapitulate these habits before passing on to the contents of -the burrow. The father works just as hard as the mother at extracting -and modelling the lump that is to constitute a larva’s dowry; he shares -in the carting, even though he plays a secondary part; he keeps watch -over the loaf when the mother is absent looking for a spot at which to -dig the burrow; he helps in the work of excavation; he carries outside -the rubbish from the cavity; and lastly, to crown these good qualities, -he is to a large extent faithful to his spouse. - -The Scarabæus displays some of these characteristics. He readily helps -in manipulating the pill; when it has to be carted, he takes his place -in a team of two, one pulling and one pushing. But let me repeat that -the motive of this mutual service is selfishness: the two -fellow-workers labour and cart the lump only for their own purpose. To -them it is a gala cake and nothing more. In that part of her work which -concerns the family, the Scarabæus mother has no assistant. Alone she -rounds her sphere, extracts it from the pile, rolls it backwards by -herself in the head-downward posture adopted by the male of the -Sisyphus couple; alone she digs her burrow; alone she stores away its -contents. Heedless of the laying mother and the brood, the other sex -does not assist at all in the exhausting task. How different from the -pigmy pill-roller! - -It is time to inspect the burrow. At no great depth we find a tiny -niche, just large enough to allow the mother to move around her work. -The smallness of the chamber tells us that the father cannot remain -there for long. When the studio is ready, he must go away to leave the -sculptress room to turn. We have already seen him coming back to the -surface some time before the mother. - -The contents of the cellar consist of a single pill, a masterpiece of -plastic art. It is a copy of the Sacred Beetle’s pear on a very much -reduced scale, its smallness making the polish of the surface and the -elegance of the curves all the more striking. Its main diameter varies -between one-half and three-quarters of an inch. It is the most artistic -achievement of the Dung-beetle’s art. - -But this perfection is of brief duration. Soon the pretty pear is -covered with knotty excrescences, black and twisted, which disfigure it -with their blotchy lumps. A part of the surface, otherwise intact, -disappears beneath an amorphous mass of eruptions. The origin of these -ugly warts baffled me at first. I suspected some fungous growth, some -Sphæriacea, for instance, recognizable by its black and pimply crust. -The larva showed me my mistake. - -As usual, this is a grub bent into a hook and carrying on its back a -large pouch or hump, the emblem of a ready evacuator. Like the Sacred -Beetle’s, indeed, it excels at stopping up any accidental holes in its -shells with an instantaneous spray of stercoral cement, of which it -always keeps a supply in its knapsack. It practises moreover an art of -vermicelli-making which is unknown to the pill-rollers, except the -Broad-necked Scarab, who however but seldom makes use of it. - -The larvæ of the various Dung-beetles employ their digestive residues -for plastering their cell, whose dimensions lend themselves to this -method of riddance, without the necessity of opening temporary windows -through which to expel the ordure. Whether because of insufficient -space or for other reasons which escape me, the Sisyphus-larva, after -allowing for the regulation coating of the interior, ejects the excess -of its products outside. - -Let us keep a close eye on a pear whose inmate is already growing -fairly big. Sooner or later we shall see that the surface at one point -is getting thinner and softer; and then, through the frail screen, -there is a spurt of dark-green fluid, which subsides with corkscrew -evolutions. One more wart has been formed. It will turn black as it -dries. - -What has happened? The larva has made a temporary breach in the wall of -its shell; and through the ventilator, which is still covered with a -thin veil, it has excreted the superfluous cement which it was unable -to use indoors. It has evacuated through the wall. The window -deliberately opened in no way affects the safety of the grub, as it is -at once closed and hermetically sealed with the base of the spout, -which is compressed by a stroke of the trowel. With a stopper so -quickly placed in position the food will keep fresh however many holes -are made in the body of the pear. There is no danger of the dry air -entering. - -The Sisyphus also seems to be aware of the peril which later, in torrid -weather, would threaten her tiny pear, buried at so slight a depth. She -is a very early arrival. She works in April and May, when the -atmosphere is mild. In the first fortnight of July, before the terrible -dog-days have arrived, her family burst their shells and go in search -of the heap that will furnish them with board and lodging during the -scorching time of the year. Then comes the brief spell of autumn -revelry, followed by the withdrawal underground for the winter sleep, -the awakening in spring, and lastly, to complete the cycle, the -pill-rolling festival. - -One more observation about the Sisyphus. My six pairs under the -wire-gauze cover gave me fifty-seven inhabited pellets. This census -shows an average of over nine births to each couple, a figure which the -Sacred Beetle is far from reaching. To what cause are we to attribute -this flourishing brood? I can see but one: the fact that the male works -as well as the mother. Family burdens that would exceed the strength of -one are not too heavy when there are two to bear them. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE LUNARY COPRIS; THE BISON ONITIS - - -Smaller than the Spanish Copris and less particular about a mild -climate, the Lunary Copris (C. lunaris, Lin.) will confirm what the -Sisyphus has told us of the part played by the father’s collaboration -in the prosperity of the family. Our country districts cannot show his -match for oddity of male attire. Like the other, he wears a horn on his -forehead; in addition, he has an embattled promontory in the middle of -his corselet and a halberd-point and a deep, crescent-shaped groove on -his shoulders. The climate of Provence and the niggardly supply of food -in a wilderness of thyme do not suit him. He wants a country that is -less dry, with meadows where the patches of cattle-dung will supply him -with plenty of provender. - -Unable to reckon on the rare specimens which we meet here from time to -time, I have stocked my insect-house with strangers sent from Tournon -by my daughter Aglaé. When April comes, she conducts an indefatigable -search at my request. Seldom have so many Cow-claps been lifted with -the point of the sunshade; seldom have delicate fingers with so much -affection broken the cakes on the pastures. I thank the heroine in the -name of science! - -Her zeal meets with due reward. I become the proud possessor of six -couples, which are immediately installed in the insect-house where the -Spanish Copris used to work last year. I serve up the national dish, -the superlative loaf furnished by my neighbour’s Cow. There is not a -sign of home-sickness among the exiles, who bravely begin their labours -under the mysterious shelter of the cake. - -I make my first excavation in the middle of June and am delighted with -what my knife gradually lays bare as it cuts up the soil in thin -slices. Each couple has dug itself a splendid vaulted room in the sand, -more spacious than any that the Sacred Beetle or the Spanish Copris -ever showed me and with a bolder arch. The greatest breadth is fully -six inches; but the ceiling is very low, rising to hardly two inches. - -The contents correspond with the extravagant dimensions of the hall. -They form a dish worthy of the wedding of Camacho the Rich, a cake as -broad as one’s hand, of no great thickness and varying in outline. I -have found them oval-shaped, kidney-shaped, shaped like a Starfish, -with short, thick rays, and long and pointed, like a Cat’s tongue. -These minor details represent the pastry-cook’s fancies. The essential -and constant fact is this: in the six bakeries of my insect-house, the -sexes are always both present beside the lump of paste, which, after -being kneaded according to rule, is now fermenting and maturing. - -What does this long cohabitation prove? It proves that the father has -taken part in digging the cellar, in storing the victuals gathered by -separate armfuls on the threshold of the door, and in kneading all the -scraps into a single lump, which is more likely to improve by keeping. -Were he a useless, idle incubus, he would not stay there, he would go -back to the surface. The father therefore is a diligent fellow-worker. -His assistance even looks as if it ought to extend farther still. We -shall see. - -Dear insects, my curiosity has disturbed your housekeeping. But you -were only starting, you were having your house-warming, so to speak. -Perhaps you may be able to make good the damage which I have wrought. -Let us try. I will restore the condition of the establishment by -supplying fresh provisions. It is for you now to dig new burrows, to -carry down the wherewithal to replace the cake of which I have robbed -you, and afterwards to divide the lump, improved by time, into rations -suited to the needs of your larvæ. Will you do all this? I hope so. - -My faith in the perseverance of the sorely-tried couples is not -disappointed. A month later, in the middle of July, I venture on a -second inspection. The cellars have been rebuilt, as spacious as at -first. Moreover, by this time they are padded with a soft lining of -dung on the floor and on a part of the side-walls. The two sexes are -still there; they will not separate until the rearing is completed. The -father, who has less family-affection, or perhaps is more timid, tries -to steal off by the back-way as the light enters the shattered -dwelling; the mother, squatting on her precious pellets, does not -budge. These pellets are oval-shaped plums, very like those of the -Spanish Copris, but not quite so large. - -Knowing how few compose the latter’s collection, I am greatly surprised -at the sight that now meets my eyes. In a single cell I count seven or -eight ovoids, standing one against the other and lifting up their -nippled tops, each with its hatching-chamber. Notwithstanding its size, -the hall is cram-full; there is hardly room left for the two guardians -to move about. It may be compared with a bird’s nest containing its -eggs and no empty spaces. - -The comparison is inevitable. What indeed are the Copris’ pills but -eggs of another sort, in which the nutritive mass of the white and the -yolk is replaced by a pot of preserved foodstuffs? Here the -Dung-beetles rival the birds and even surpass them. Instead of -producing from within themselves, merely by the mysterious processes of -nature, that which will provide for the latter growth of their young, -they are actively and openly industrious, and by dint of their own -skill provide food for their grubs which will achieve the adult form -without other assistance. They know nothing of the long and tortuous -process of incubation; the sun is their incubator. They have not the -continual worry of providing food, for they prepare this in advance and -make only one distribution. But they never leave the nest. Their watch -is incessant. Father and mother, those vigilant guardians, do not quit -the house until the family is fit to sally forth. - -The father’s usefulness is manifest so long as there is a house to dig -and wealth to amass; it is less evident when the mother is cutting up -her loaf into rations, shaping her ovoids, polishing them and watching -over them. Can it be that the cavalier also takes part in this delicate -task, which would rather seem to be a feminine monopoly? Is he able, -with his sharp leg, to slice up the cake, to remove from it the -requisite quantity for a larva’s sustenance and to round the piece into -a sphere, thus shortening the work, which could be revised and -perfected by the mother? Does he know the art of stopping up chinks, of -repairing breaches, of soldering slits, of scraping pellets and -clearing them of any dangerous vegetable matter? Does he show the brood -the same attentions which the mother lavishes by herself in the burrows -of the Spanish Copris? Here the two sexes are together. Do they both -take part in bringing up the family? - -I tried to obtain an answer by installing a couple of Lunary Copres in -a glass jar screened by a cardboard sheath, which enabled me readily -and quickly to produce light or darkness. When suddenly surprised, the -male was perched upon the pellets almost as often as the female; but, -whereas the mother would frequently go on with her ticklish -nursery-work, polishing the pellets with the flat of her leg and -feeling and sounding them, the father, more cowardly and less engrossed -in his duties, would drop down as soon as the daylight was admitted and -run away to hide in some corner of the heap. There is no way of seeing -him at work, so quick is he to shun the unwelcome light. - -Still, though he refused to display his talents on my behalf, his very -presence on the top of the ovoids betrays them. Not for nothing was he -in that uncomfortable attitude, so ill-adapted to an idler’s slumbers. -He was then watching like his companion, touching up the damaged parts, -listening through the walls of the shells to find out how the -youngsters were progressing. The little that I saw assures me that the -father almost rivals the mother in domestic solicitude until the family -is finally emancipated. - -The offspring gain in numbers by this paternal devotion. In the Spanish -Copris’ mansion, where the mother alone resides, we find four -nurselings at most, often two or three, sometimes only one. In that of -the Lunary Copris, where the two sexes cohabit and help each other, we -count as many as eight, twice the largest population of the other. The -hard-working father enjoys a magnificent proof of his influence upon -the fate of the household. - -Apart from labour in common, this prosperity demands another condition -without which the zeal of the couple would be ineffectual. Before -everything, if you want a big family you must have enough to feed it -on. Remember the victualling methods of the Copris-tribe generally. -They do not, like the pill-rollers, go gathering here and there a booty -which is rounded into a ball and subsequently rolled to the burrow; -they settle immediately underneath the heap which they find, and there, -without leaving the threshold of the house, carve themselves slices -which they carry down singly to their store until they have collected -enough. - -The Spanish Copris, at least in my neighbourhood, handles the product -of the Sheep. It is of high quality, but not plentiful, even when the -purveyor’s intestines are in their most generous mood. The whole of it, -therefore, is packed into the cavern and the insect does not come out -again, being kept underground by family-cares, even though there be but -one youngster to attend to. The niggardly morsel as a rule supplies -material only for two or three larvæ. Consequently the family is a -small one, through the difficulty in procuring provisions. - -The Lunary Copris works under different conditions. His part of the -country provides the Cow-clap, that rich patch of dung in which the -insect finds inexhaustible supplies of the food needed by a flourishing -offspring. This prosperity is assisted by the size of the abode, whose -ceiling, with its exceptional breadth, is able to shelter a number of -pills that would never fit into the Spanish Copris’ much less roomy -burrow. - -For lack of space at home and of a well-furnished flour-bin, the latter -restricts the number of her children, which is sometimes reduced to -one. Can this be due to impotence of the ovaries? No. I have shown in -an earlier chapter that, given free scope and a well-spread table, the -mother is capable of producing twice her usual family and more. I -described how for the three or four ovoids I substituted a loaf kneaded -with my paper-knife. By means of this artifice, which increased the -space in the narrow enclosure of the jar and provided fresh materials -for modelling, I obtained from the mother a family of seven in all. It -was a magnificent result, but far inferior to that derived from the -following experiment, which was better managed. - -This time I take away the pellets as they are formed, all but one, so -as not to discourage the mother by my kidnapping. If she found nothing -at all left of her previous products, she might perhaps weary of her -fruitless labour. When the main loaf, of her constructing, has all been -used, I replace it with another, made by myself. I go on doing this, -removing the ovoid that has just been completed and renewing the -finished lump of food until the insect refuses to accept any more. For -five or six weeks the sorely tried mother never loses her patience and -each time begins all over again and perseveringly restocks her empty -nursery. At last the dog-days arrive, the brutal season which arrests -all life by its excessive heat and dryness. My loaves, however -carefully made, are scorned. The mother, overcome with torpor, refuses -to work. She buries herself in the sand, at the foot of the last -pellet, and there, motionless, awaits the liberating September rain. -The indefatigable creature has bequeathed me thirteen ovoids, each -modelled to perfection, each supplied with an egg; thirteen, a number -unparalleled in the Copris’ annals; thirteen, ten more than the normal -laying. - -The proof is established: if the horned Dung-beetle strictly limits her -family, it is not through penury of the ovaries, but through fear of -famine. - -Is it not thus that things happen in our country, which, the -statisticians tell us, is threatened with depopulation? The clerk, the -artisan, the civil servant, the workman, the small shopkeeper are a -daily increasing multitude with us; and all of them, having hardly -enough to live upon, refrain as far as possible from adding to the -numbers gathered around their ill-furnished table. When bread is short, -the Copris is not wrong in becoming almost a celibate. Why should we -cast a stone at his imitators? The motive is one of prudence on either -side. It is better to live alone than surrounded by hungry mouths. The -man who feels strong enough to struggle with poverty for himself -shrinks in dismay from the poverty of a crowded home. - -In the good old days, the tiller of the soil, the peasant, the backbone -of the nation, found that a numerous family added to his wealth. All -used to work and bring their bit of bread to the frugal repast. While -the eldest drove the team afield, the youngest, clad in his first pair -of breeches, took the brood of Ducklings to the pond. [55] - -These patriarchal ways are becoming rare. Progress sees to that. Of -course, it is an enviable thing to scorch along on a bicycle, working -your legs up and down like a distracted Spider; but there is a reverse -to the medal: progress brings luxury, but creates expensive tastes. In -my village, the commonest factory-girl, earning her ten-pence a day, -sports on a Sunday sleeves puffed at the shoulders and feathers in her -hat like the fine ladies’; she has a sunshade with an ivory handle, a -padded chignon, patent-leather shoes, with open-work stockings and lace -flounces. O Goose-girl, I in my short linen jacket dare not look at you -as you pass my door on your Sunday parade along the high-road! You make -me feel too small with your smart raiment. - -The young men, on the other hand, are assiduous frequenters of the -café, which is much more luxurious than the old-fashioned pot-house. -Here they find vermouth, bitters, absinthe, amer Picon, in short the -whole collection of stupefying drugs. Such tastes as these make the -fields seem too humble and the soil too stubborn. Since the receipts no -longer come up to the expenses, they leave the land for the town, which -is better-suited, so they imagine, for money-making. Alas, saving is no -more practicable there than here! The workshop, where opportunities of -spending money lie in wait by the score, makes a man no richer than the -plough. But it is too late: you have made your bed; and you remain a -poverty-stricken townsman, in terror of paternity. - -And yet this country, with its glorious climate, fertility, and -geographical position, is invaded by a host of cosmopolitans, sharks -and sharpers of every sort. Long ago, it used to attract the sea-roving -Phœnicians; the peace-loving Greeks, who brought us the alphabet, the -vine and the olive-tree; the Romans, those harsh rulers, who handed -down to us barbarities very difficult to eradicate. Swooping on this -rich prey came the Cymri, the Teutons, the Vandals, the Goths, the -Huns, the Burgundians, the Suevi, the Alani, the Franks, the Saracens, -hordes driven hither by every wind that blows. And all this -heterogeneous mixture was melted down and absorbed by the Gallic -nation. - -To-day the foreigner is stealthily making his way into our midst. We -are threatened with a second barbarian invasion, peaceful, it is true, -but yet disturbing. Will our language, so clear and so harmonious, -become an obscure jargon, harsh with exotic gutturals? Will our -generous character be dishonoured by rapacious hucksters? Will the land -of our fathers cease to be a country and become a caravanserai? There -is a fear of it, unless the old Gallic blood runs swift and strong once -more and engulfs the stream of invaders. - -Let us hope that it may be so and let us listen to what the horned -Dung-beetle has to teach us. A large family demands food. But progress -brings new needs, which cost much to satisfy; and our revenues are far -from increasing at the same rate. When men have not enough for six or -five or four, they are content to live as a family of three or two, or -even to remain single. Guided by such principles as these, a nation, in -its successive stages of progress, is on the road to suicide. - -Let us go back then to where we were, suppress our artificial needs, -those unwholesome fruits of a hot-house civilization, honour rustic -frugality once again and remain on the land, where we shall find the -soil bountiful enough to satisfy us if we moderate our desires. Then -and not till then will the family flourish once more; then will the -peasant, delivered from the town and its temptations, be our salvation. - -The third Dung-beetle that has shown me the gift of paternal instinct -is likewise a stranger. He comes to me from near Montpellier. He is the -Bison Onitis, or, according to others, the Bison Bubas. Taking no -interest in nomenclature subtleties, I shall not choose between the two -generic names, but will retain the specific denomination of Bison, -which has the sound which Linnæus wanted. I made his acquaintance many -years ago in the country around Ajaccio, [56] among the saffrons and -cyclamens that bloom so sweetly under the shade of the myrtles. Come -hither and let me admire you yet once again, O beauteous insect! You -recall my youthful enthusiasm on the shores of the glorious gulf, so -rich in shell-fish. Far was I from suspecting at the time that it would -one day fall to my share to sing your praises! I have not seen you -since. Welcome to my vivarium! And now tell us something about -yourself. - -You are a sturdy little chap, short-legged and packed into a solid -rectangle, a sign of strength. On your head you wear two abbreviated -horns, curved like a Steer’s; and you prolong your corselet into a -blunt forehead adorned with two pretty dimples, one on the right and -one on the left. Your general appearance and your male finery make you -a near neighbour of the coprinary group. The entomologists, in fact, -class you immediately after the Copres and a long way from the -Geotrupes. Does your trade tally with the place which the systematists -allot to you? What can you do? - -In common with others, I admire the classifier who, studying the mouth, -the legs and the antennæ in the dead insect, is sometimes happy in his -grouping and able, for instance, to include in the same family the -Scarab and the Sisyphus, who differ so greatly in appearance and so -little in habits. Yet this method, which ignores the higher -manifestations of life in order to pore over the smallest details of -the corpse, too often misleads us as to the insect’s real talent, which -is a much more important characteristic than a joint more or less in -the antennæ. The Bison, like many others, warns us to be careful where -we are going. Though akin to the Copris in structure, he is much nearer -the Geotrupes in his industry. Like them, he packs sausages in a -cylindrical mould; like them again, he has the paternal instinct. - -I inspect my one couple in the middle of June. Under a plentiful pile -provided by the Sheep is a perpendicular shaft a finger’s-breadth in -diameter, open freely throughout its length and running some nine -inches down. The bottom of this well branches out into five different -galleries, each occupied by a roly-poly pudding similar to the -Geotrupes’, but less bulky and not so long. The mass of fodder has a -warty surface, is rounded off clumsily and has a hatching-chamber -scooped out of it at the lower end. This chamber is a little round -cell, coated with a semifluid wash. The egg is oval, white and -comparatively large, as is the rule among Dung-beetles. In short, the -Bison’s rustic work is a very close reproduction of the Geotrupes’. - -I am disappointed: I expected better things. The insect’s elegance -seemed to promise something more artistic, a finer craftsmanship, -skilled in the modelling of pears, gourds, balls and ovoids. Once -again, be careful how you judge animals, any more than men, by -appearances. The structure gives us no idea of the insect’s all-round -ability. - -I surprise the couple at the cross-roads where the five blind-alleys, -the sausages, start. The intrusion of the light has frightened them -into immobility. Before the disturbance caused by my excavations, what -were the two faithful partners doing at this spot? They were watching -over the five cells, ramming down the last column of provisions, -completing it with new contributions of material, brought down from -above and taken from the heap that forms a cover to the shaft. They -were perhaps preparing to dig a sixth chamber, if not more, and to -stock it like the others. I realize at any rate that there must be many -ascents from the bottom of the pit to the rich warehouse on the -surface, whence the bundles of material are carried down in the legs of -the one to be methodically pressed on top of the egg by the other. - -The shaft indeed is open throughout its length. Moreover, to prevent -the crumbling of the walls which would result from frequent journeys, -the sides are plastered with stucco from end to end. This coat is made -of the same material as the puddings and is more than a twenty-fifth of -an inch thick. It is continuous and fairly even, without having too -elaborate a finish. It keeps the surrounding earth in place, so much so -that big fragments of the tunnel can be removed without losing their -shape. - -In the hamlets on the Alps, the south fronts of the buildings are -coated with Cow-dung, which, after drying in the summer sun, becomes -the winter fuel. The Bison knows this pastoral method, but practises it -with another object: he hangs his house with manure to keep it from -crumbling. The father might well be entrusted with this work in the -intervals of rest which the mother leaves him while she is busy in the -ticklish work of making her pudding layer by layer. The Geotrupes, by -way of yet another industrial resemblance, has already shown us a -similar consolidating plaster. Hers, it is true, is less regular and -less complete. - -After being ousted by my curiosity, the Bison couple set to work again -and, by the middle of July, supplied me with three more puddings, -making a total of eight. This time I find my two captives dead, one on -the surface, the other in the ground. Can it be an accident? Or is it -not more likely that the Bison constitutes an exception to the -longevity of the Scarabs, Copres and others, who behold their offspring -and even fly away to their second wedding in the following spring? - -I incline to the belief that we come back here to the general insect -law of a short life deprived of the chief joy of parenthood, the sight -of one’s children, for no regrettable incident happened, so far as I -know, in the vivarium. If I am right in my conjectures, why does the -Bison, though a near kinsman of the Copris, who attains a green old -age, die so quickly, like the common herd, once the future of his -family is assured? Here again we have an unsolved mystery. - -A rapid sketch of the larva is preferable to long descriptions of its -jaws and palpi, which make dull reading. I shall have said enough, I -think, on the subject if I mention that it is bent into a crook, that -it carries a knapsack on its back, that it is a quick evacuator and -that it is clever at stopping up any cracks in the dwelling: -characteristics and talents which are a general rule among the -Dung-beetles. In August, when the pudding has been consumed in the -middle and has become something of a ruin, the grub retires to the -lower end and here isolates itself from the remainder of the cavity by -means of a spherical enclosure, of which the mortar-bag supplies the -materials. - -The work, a graceful sphere about the size of a large cherry, is a -masterpiece of stercoral architecture and may be compared with that -which the Bull Onthophagus has already shown us. Little nodes, arranged -in concentric lines and alternating like the tiles of a roof, adorn the -object from pole to pole. Each of them must correspond with a stroke of -the trowel putting its load of mortar in place. If you did not know -what it was, you would take the thing for the chiselled kernel of some -tropical fruit. A sort of rough pericarp completes the illusion. It is -the rind of the pudding which surrounds the central jewel but is easily -removed, just as the husk separates from the nut. When we have done the -shelling, we are quite surprised to find this splendid kernel under its -rustic wrapper. - -Such is the chamber built with a view to the metamorphosis. The larva -spends the winter there in a state of torpor. I hoped to obtain the -adult insect in the spring. To my great surprise, the larval stage -continued until the end of July. It takes about a year, therefore, for -the nymph to make its appearance. - -This slowness in maturing surprises me. Can it be the rule in the open -fields? I think so, for in the confinement of my insect-house nothing -happened, to my knowledge, that would occasion this delay. I therefore -enter the result of my manœuvres without any fear of making a mistake: -lying lifeless in its elegant and solid casket, the larva of the Bison -Onitis takes twelve months to develop into a nymph, whereas those of -the other Dung-beetles effect their transformation in a few weeks. As -to stating or even suspecting the cause of this strange larval -longevity, these are points which must be left in the limbo of the -unexplained. - -Softened by the September rains, the stercoral shell, until now as hard -as a plum-stone, yields to the hermit’s thrust; and the adult Beetle -comes up into the light of day to lead a life of revelry so long as the -mild atmosphere of the last days of summer permits. When the first cold -weather sets in, he retires to his winter quarters underground and -reappears in the spring to begin the cycle of life all over again. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE BULL ONTHOPHAGUS: THE CELL - - -Begun to-day and dropped to-morrow, taken up again later and again -abandoned, according to the chances of the day, the study of instinct -makes but halting progress. The changing seasons bring unwelcome -delays, forcing the observer to wait till the following year or even -longer for the answer to his eager questions. Moreover, the problem -often crops up unexpectedly, as the result of some casual incident of -slight interest in itself, and it comes in a form so vague that it -gives little basis for precise investigation. How can one investigate -what has not yet been suspected? We have no facts to go upon and are -consequently unable to tackle the problem frankly. - -To collect these facts by fragments, to subject those fragments to -varied tests in order to try their value, to make them into a sheaf of -rays lighting up the darkness of the unknown and gradually causing it -to emerge: all this demands a long space of time, especially as the -favourable periods are brief. Years elapse; and then very often the -perfect solution has not appeared. There are always gaps in our sheaf -of light; and always behind the mysteries which the rays have -penetrated stand others, still shrouded in darkness. - -I am perfectly aware that it would be preferable to avoid repetitions -and to give a complete story every time; but, in the domain of -instinct, who can claim a harvest that leaves no grain for other -gleaners? Sometimes the handful of corn left on the field is of more -importance than the reaper’s sheaves. If we had to wait until we knew -every detail of the question studied, no one would venture to write the -little that he knows. From time to time, a few truths are revealed, -tiny pieces of the vast mosaic of things. Better to divulge the -discovery, however humble it be. Others will come who, also gathering a -few fragments, will assemble the whole into a picture ever growing -larger but ever notched by the unknown. - -And then the burden of years forbids me to entertain long hopes. -Distrustful of the morrow, I write from day to day, as I make my -observations. This method, one of necessity rather than choice, -sometimes results in the reopening of old subjects, when new -investigations throw light within and enable me to complete or it may -be to modify the first text. - -Years ago, I obtained a few noteworthy particulars about the -Onthophagi, thanks to a very rough and ready method of rearing a few of -them jumbled up with other Beetles in whom I was more interested. One -of the earlier volumes gives a rapid sketch of them. [57] The results, -hurriedly and almost fortuitously acquired, inspired me with a wish to -observe systematically and closely the habits, industry and development -of an insect which I had already introduced to the reader in too -summary a fashion. Let us speak once more of the Onthophagi, that -nation of little horned dung-worshippers. - -Lately, I have reared the following species, according as I chanced to -pick them up: Onthophagus taurus, Linn., O. vacca, Linn., O furcatus, -Fabr., O. Schreberi, Linn., O. nuchicornis, Linn., O. lemur, Fabr. -There has been no choice on my part; I accept all that present -themselves in sufficient numbers. The first especially abound. I am -delighted, for the Bull Onthophagus is the chief of the clan. There is -none to equal him, if not in dress, for this may be a richer copper in -the others, at least in the handsome horns which are the masculine -prerogative. He will be the object of special attention in my -menagerie. For the rest, as what he teaches me is repeated elsewhere -without noteworthy variations, his history will be that of the whole -tribe. - -I capture him, as well as the others, in the course of May. At this -period of genetic awakening, I find them swarming very busily under the -Sheep-droppings, not those which are moulded into olives and scattered -in trails, but those which are ejected in slabs of some size. The first -are too dry and too scanty and the Onthophagus thinks nothing of them; -the second are goodly messes and he works them in preference to any -other material. - -The Mule’s copious heap is also largely utilized; but it is very -stringy and, though the Beetle finds plenty in it for his own feasts, -he very seldom uses it for his offspring. Where the nests are -concerned, the Sheep is the main purveyor. Her exceptionally plastic -product at once attracts the custom of the Onthophagi, who are just as -dainty epicures as the Sacred Beetle, the Copris or the Sisyphus. If, -however, the ovine pottage be lacking, they fall back upon the coarser -lump of the Mule, with the aid of a scrupulous selection. - -There is no difficulty about bringing up Onthophagi. A spacious -vivarium that lends itself to frolicsome sports is not necessary here; -it would even be inconvenient and would not favour close observation, -because of the tumult prevailing in a numerous and varied crowd. I -prefer a number of separate establishments, simpler and smaller, which -I can carry into my private workroom. They will lend themselves better -to assiduous inspection, without putting me to the trouble of digging. -What receptacles shall I choose? - -There are certain glass pots fitted with a tin lid which you screw over -their mouths. They are used for honey, preserved fruits, jam, jelly and -similar products dear to the heart of materfamilias when the winter -scarcity sets in. I procure a dozen of these by clearing the cupboard -in which the preserves are kept. They hold, on the average, about a -pint and three-quarters. - -Half-filled with fresh sand and supplied in addition with provisions -obtained from the Sheep’s pastry-shop, each jar receives its share of -Onthophagi, of separate species and with both sexes present. When the -glass houses are used up and the population becomes too dense, I resort -to ordinary flower-pots, furnished according to rule and closed with a -pane of glass. The whole collection is arranged on my large -laboratory-table. My captives are satisfied with their installation, -which provides them with a mild temperature, a nicely-shaded light and -first-class fare. - -What more is needed to complete the Dung-beetles’ happiness? Nothing -but the raptures of pairing. They indulge in these freely. Interned in -the second half of May, with not a thought to the new state of things -which puts a stop to their frolics among the thyme, eagerly they seek -one another out, make their overtures and group themselves in couples. - -This is an excellent occasion to find the reply to a primary question: -do the Onthophagus father and mother work in conjunction when looking -after the brood; have they a permanent household, similar to that which -we have seen in the Geotrupes, the Sisyphus and the Minotaur; [58] or -is the mating followed by a sudden and definite rupture? The Bull -Onthophagus shall tell us. - -I delicately transfer two insects in the act of coupling and establish -them in another, separate jar, provided with victuals and fresh sand. -The moving is performed safely; the entwined pair remain united. A -quarter of an hour afterwards, they separate; the great job is -finished. The food is close at hand. They refresh themselves for a -moment; and then each, without bothering in the least about the other, -digs his burrow and buries himself in solitude. - -A week or so passes. The male reappears on the surface; he is restless, -he makes desperate efforts to climb out; the relations are done, quite -done; he wants to get away. By and by, the female comes up in her turn; -she tries the nearest cake, picks the best of it and takes it -underground. She is building her nest. As to her companion, he does not -even notice what is happening: these things do not concern him. - -The other captives, of no matter what species, when consulted in the -same manner, give the same reply. The Onthophagus tribe knows nothing -of household ties. - -In what respect are those who know them and who observe them so -faithfully any the better off? I do not quite see; or, to be more -candid, I do not see at all. If, in the case of the Geotrupes, I see in -the bulky pudding some slight excuse for the collaboration of the -father, who is a valuable assistant in the fabrication of this kind of -preserve, and if, in that of the Minotaur, the immensely deep well -might suggest to me the need for the trident-wearing helper, who shoots -out the rubbish while the mother goes on digging, I should still be -without an explanation when I came to the Sisyphus, who is very -economical both in provisions and in the labour of excavation and -requires no help with either. I will not deny that, in this last case, -the male is of some use, watching over the pill, lending occasional -help and encouraging the female with his presence; but, after all, the -part which he plays as a collaborator is a very secondary one, and the -mother, one would say, could do without any assistance, as is the rule -among the Scarabæi. Here, besides, we have the Bull Onthophagus, who is -even smaller than the Sisyphus; and this dwarf, unacquainted with a -partnership that would increase her powers twofold, fulfils a task -which is almost equivalent to that of the Beetles who roll their pills -in double harness. - -Then how are talents and industries distributed? If we go on -accumulating fact upon fact, observation upon observation, shall we -ever come to know? I venture to doubt it. - -I have friends who sometimes say to me: - -‘Now that you have collected such a mass of details, you ought to -follow up analysis with synthesis and promulgate a comprehensive theory -of the origin of instincts.’ - -There’s a rash proposal for you! Because I have turned over a few -grains of sand on the seashore, am I qualified to talk about the ocean -depths? Life has its unfathomable secrets. Human knowledge will be -struck off the world’s records before we know all that is to be said -about a Gnat. - -Equally obscure is the question of nest-building. By a nest we -understand any residence constructed purposely to receive the eggs and -to protect the development of the young. The Bees and Wasps excel in -the art. They know how to make cabins out of cotton-stuffs, wax, leaves -or resin; they build turrets of clay and domes of masonry; they mould -earthenware urns. The Spiders vie with them. Remember the -flying-machines, the rose-patterned paraboloids of certain Epeiræ; the -globular bag of the Lycosa; the Labyrinth Spider’s cloisters with their -Gothic arches; the Clotho Spider’s tent and lentiform pockets. [59] - -The Locust makes pits surmounted by a frothy chimney; the Mantis whips -her glair into a frothy mass. [60] The Fly and the Butterfly, on the -other hand, know nothing of these fond attentions: they limit -themselves to laying their eggs at spots where the young can find board -and lodging for themselves. [61] The Beetle also is generally extremely -ignorant of the finer points of nest-building. By a very singular -exception, the Dung-beetles, alone among the immense host of wearers of -armoured wing-cases, have a special art of rearing, a system of -upbringing which can bear comparison with that of the most gifted -insects. How did they come by this industry? - -Venturesome minds, deluded by the greatly daring theorists, tell us -that the science of the future, rich in evidence drawn from the -mysteries of fibre and cell, will draw up an affiliation-table in which -the animal kingdom will be classified so that the place occupied by a -creature shall inform us of its instincts, without any need of -preliminary observation. We shall determine the aptitudes by means of -learned formulæ, even as numbers are determined by their logarithms. It -is most impressive; but beware: we are dealing with Dung-beetles; let -us consult them before we draw up the logarithmic table of instincts. -The Onthophagus is related to the Copris, the Scarab and the Sisyphus, -all of whom are versed in the art of making shapely pellets. Let us try -to tell beforehand, according to the place which she occupies in the -insect-table, going merely by the formula, what she is able to do in -the way of nest-building. - -She is small, I agree; but littleness does not diminish talent in the -least, as witness the Titmouse, with his pendulous nest, the Wren and -the Canary, who, although among the smallest of our little birds, are -incomparable artists. The near kinswomen of the Onthophagus excel in -making beautiful ovoids and pear-shaped gourds. She herself, so tiny -and so precise, ought to do even better. - -Well, the table deceives us, the formula lies: the Onthophagus is a -very indifferent artist; her nest is a rudimentary piece of work, -hardly fit to be acknowledged. I obtain it in profusion from the six -species which I have brought up in my jars and flower-pots. The Bull -Onthophagus alone provides me with nearly a hundred; and I find no two -precisely alike, as pieces should be that come from the same mould and -the same workshop. - -To this lack of exact similarity, we must add inaccuracy of shape, now -more now less accentuated. It is easy, however, to recognize among the -bulk the pattern upon which the clumsy nest-builder works. It is a sack -shaped like a thimble and standing erect, with the spherical -thimble-end at the bottom and the circular opening at the top. - -Sometimes the insect establishes itself in the central region of my -apparatus, in the heart of the earthy mass; then, the resistance being -the same in every direction, the sack-like shape is pretty accurate. -But, generally, the Onthophagus prefers a solid basis to a dusty -support and builds on the walls of the jar, especially on the bottom. -When the support is vertical, the sack is a longitudinal section of a -short cylinder, with the smooth flat surface against the glass and a -rugged convexity every elsewhere. If the support be horizontal, as is -most frequently the case, the cabin is a sort of undecided oval -lozenge, flat at the bottom, bulging and vaulted at the top. To the -general inaccuracy of these contorted shapes, regulated by no very -definite pattern, we must add the coarseness of the surfaces, all of -which, with the exception of the parts touching the glass, are covered -with a crust of sand. - -The manner of procedure explains this uncouth exterior. As laying-time -draws nigh, the Onthophagus bores a cylindrical pit and descends -underground to a moderate depth. Here, working with her forehead, her -chin and her fore-legs, which are toothed like a rake, she forces back -and heaps around her the materials which she has moved, so as to obtain -as best she may a nest of suitable size. - -The next thing is to cement the crumbling walls of the cavity. The -insect climbs back to the surface by way of its pit; it gathers on its -threshold an armful of mortar taken from the cake whereunder it has -elected to set up house; it goes down again with its burden, which it -spreads and presses upon the sandy wall. Thus it produces a concrete -casing, the gravel of which is supplied by the wall itself and the -cement by the produce of the Sheep. After a few trips and repeated -strokes of the trowel, the pit is plastered on every side; the walls, -encrusted all over with grains of sand, are no longer liable to give -way. - -The cabin is ready: it now wants only a tenant and stores. First, a -large free space is made at the bottom: the hatching-chamber, where the -egg is laid on the wall. Next comes the collecting of the provisions -intended for the grub, a collecting done with scrupulous care. -Recently, when building, the insect worked upon the outside of the -doughy mass and took no notice of the earthy blemishes. Now, it -penetrates to the very centre of the lump, through a gallery that looks -as though it were made with a punch. When trying a cheese, the buyer -employs a scoop, the hollow, cylindrical taster which is driven well in -and pulled out with a sample taken from the middle of the cheese. The -Onthophagus, when collecting for her grub, goes to work as though -equipped with one of these tasters. She bores an exactly round hole -into the piece which she is exploiting; she goes straight to the -middle, where the material, not being exposed to the contact of the -air, has kept more savoury and pliable. Here and here alone are -gathered the armfuls which, gradually stowed away, kneaded and heaped -up to the requisite extent, fill the sack to the top. Lastly, a plug of -the same mortar, the sides of which are made partly of sand and partly -of stercoral cement, roughly closes the cell, in such a way that an -external inspection does not allow one to distinguish front from back. - -To judge of the work and its merit, we must open it. A large empty -space, oval in shape, occupies the rear end. This is the birth-chamber, -huge in dimensions compared with its contents, the egg fixed on the -wall, sometimes at the bottom of the cell and sometimes on the side. -This egg is a tiny white cylinder, rounded at each tip and measuring a -millimetre [62] in length immediately after it is laid. With no other -support than the spot on which the oviduct has planted it, it stands on -its hinder end and projects into space. - -A more or less enquiring glance is quite surprised to find so small a -germ contained in so large a box. What does the tiny egg want with all -that room? When carefully examined within, the walls of the chamber -suggest another question. They are coated with a fine greenish pap, -semifluid and shiny, the appearance of which does not agree with either -the external or the internal aspect of the lump from which the insect -has extracted its materials. A similar lime-wash is observed in the -nest which the Scarab, the Copris, the Sisyphus, the Geotrupes and -other makers of stercoraceous preserves contrive in the very heart of -the provisions, to receive the egg; but nowhere have I seen it so -plentiful, in proportion, as in the hatching-chamber of the -Onthophagus. Long puzzled by this brothy wash, of which the Sacred -Beetle provided me with the first instance, I at one time took the -thing for a layer of moisture oozing from the bulk of the victuals and -collecting on the surface of the enclosure without other effort than -capillary action. That was the interpretation of this varnish which I -accepted in various earlier passages. - -I was wrong. The truth is something much more remarkable. To-day, -better informed by the Onthophagus, I reopen the question: is this -lime-wash, this semifluid cream, the result of a natural oozing, or is -it the product of maternal foresight? A simple and conclusive -experiment will give us the answer. I ought to have made it at the -outset. I did not think of it, because the simple is usually the last -thing that we call to our aid. Here is the experiment. - -I pack a little glass jar, the size of a Hen’s egg, with Sheep-dung as -employed by the Onthophagus. With a glass rod, which leaves a perfectly -smooth impression, I make a cylindrical cavity in the heap about an -inch deep. After withdrawing the rod, I cover the orifice with a slab -of the same material; and I protect the whole against desiccation by -means of an hermetically closed lid. It is the Sacred Beetle’s pear, -with its hatching-chamber, on a larger scale; it is the Onthophagus’ -thimble, enormously exaggerated. I may say that, after the withdrawal -of the glass rod, the surface of the cavity is a dull, greenish black, -with not a trace of extravasated shiny moisture. If an oozing by -capillary action really takes place, the semifluid varnish will appear; -if nothing of the kind should occur, the surface will remain dull. - -I wait a couple of days to allow the capillary sweating to take effect, -if such a process there be. Then I examine the cavity. There is no -shiny wash on the walls; they look as dull and dry as at the beginning. -Three days later, I make a fresh inspection. Nothing has changed: the -pit made by the glass rod shows no sign of exudation; it is even a -little drier. So capillary action and its extravasations have nothing -to do with the matter. - -What then is the lime-wash that is found in every cell? The answer is -inevitable: it is something produced by the mother, a special gruel, a -milk-food elaborated for the benefit of the new-born grub. - -The young Pigeon puts his beak into that of his parents, who, with -convulsive efforts, force down his gullet first a casein mash secreted -in the crop and later a broth of grains softened by being partly -digested. He is fed upon disgorged foods, which are kind to the frailty -and inexperience of a young stomach. The grub of the Onthophagus is -brought up in much the same way, at the start. To assist its first -attempts at swallowing, the mother prepares for it, in her crop, a -light and strengthening cream. - -To pass the dainty from mouth to mouth is impossible in her case: the -construction of new cells keeps her busy elsewhere. Moreover—and this -is a more serious point—the laying takes place egg by egg, at very long -intervals, and the hatching is pretty slow: time would fail, had the -family to be brought up in the manner of the Pigeons. Another method is -perforce required. The infants’ food is disgorged all over the walls of -the cabin, in such a way that the nurseling finds itself surrounded -with an abundance of bread and jam, in which the bread, the meat for -the strong, is represented by the uncooked material, as supplied by the -Sheep, while the jam, the food for the babe, is represented by the same -material daintily prepared beforehand in the mother’s stomach. We shall -see the grub presently lick first the jam all around it and then -stoutly attack the bread. One of our own children would behave no -otherwise. - -I should have liked to catch the mother in the act of disgorging and -spreading her broth. I did not succeed in doing so. The proceedings -take place in a tiny niche; and the busy cook blocks out the view. Also -her fluster at being exhibited in broad daylight at once arrests the -work. - -If direct observation be lacking, at least the appearance of the -material and the result of my experiment with the glass rod speak very -plainly and tell us that the Onthophagus, here rivalling the Pigeon, -but with a different method, disgorges the first mouthfuls for her -sons. And the same may be said of the other Dung-beetles skilled in the -art of building a hatching-chamber in the centre of the provisions. - -No elsewhere in the insect world, except among the Bees, who prepare -disgorged food in the shape of honey, is such solicitude seen. The -dung-workers edify us with their morals. Several of them practise -association in couples and found a household; several anticipate the -process of suckling, that supreme expression of maternal tenderness, by -turning their crop into a nipple. Life has its freaks. It settles amid -ordure the creatures most highly endowed with domestic qualities. True, -from there it mounts, with a sudden flight, to the sublime virtues of -the bird. - -Among the Onthophagi the egg grows considerably larger after it is -laid; it almost doubles its linear dimensions, thus increasing the bulk -eightfold. This growth is general among the Dung-beetles. If you note -the size of an egg recently laid by any species and measure it again -when the grub is about to be born, you will be quite surprised at the -singular progress which it has made. The Sacred Beetle’s egg, for -instance, which at first is lodged pretty spaciously in its -hatching-chamber, swells until it nearly fills the cavity. - -The first idea that occurs to the mind is a very simple and tempting -one, namely, that the egg feeds. Surrounded by strongly-flavoured -effluvia, it becomes impregnated with emanations which distend its -flexible tunic; it grows by a sort of alimentary respiration, just as a -seed swells in fertile soil. That is how I pictured things at the -beginning, when the delicate problem presented itself for the first -time. But is this really what happens? Ah, if it were enough, when we -were in need of food, to stand outside a cook-shop and inhale the smell -of the good things that were being prepared inside, what a different -world it would seem, to many of us! It would be too lovely! - -The Onthophagus, the Copris and the other Beetles with cream-washed -hatching-chambers are a delusion and a snare to us, with their eggs -which are so ready to swell. The Minotaurus tells me so, somewhat late -in the day; she compels me to reconsider my earlier interpretations -entirely. Her egg is not enclosed in a hollow inside the victuals whose -emanations might explain its growth; it is outside the sausage, a good -way underneath, surrounded by sand on every side; and nevertheless it -increases in size just as well as those lodged in a succulent cabin. - -Moreover, the new-born grub surprises me by its chubbiness; it is seven -or eight times as big as the egg whence it comes; the contents vastly -exceed the capacity of the container. Besides, before touching the food -from which it is separated by a ceiling of sand, the grub for a certain -time continues its strange growing, as though new materials were being -added to those which came out of the egg. - -Here, in the dry sand, it is impossible to talk of effluvia capable of -providing the wherewithal for the grub to wax big and fat. Then to what -do both the egg and the new-born grub owe their growth? The -Languedocian Scorpion [63] gives us an excellent clue. When passing -from a sort of larval stage to the final form, which is the same as -that of the adult, we have seen him suddenly double his length and -consequently increase eightfold in bulk before taking the least scrap -of nourishment. A highly complex process of co-ordination and -adjustment takes place in the interior of the organism; and the -dimensions increase without the addition of new material. - -An animal is a structure capable of becoming more spacious with the -same amount of materials. Everything depends upon the molecular -architecture, which becomes more and more refined by the tremors of -life. The contents of the egg, a compact mass, expand into a creature -which is all the bulkier for its richness in organs for diverse -functions. Even so, the locomotive engine, the creature of industry, -occupies more space than the iron, its raw material, melted down into a -single ingot. - -When the shell is able to stretch, the egg swells under the thrust of -its contents, which form into an organic whole and dilate. This is the -case with the various Dung-beetles. When the shell is hard and rigid, a -void is made by evaporation at the thick end; and this excess of space -supplies the room necessary for the increase in volume of the contents. -This is the case with the birds, which develop within a chalky -enclosure that does not alter in size. Both of them dilate, with this -difference that the soft shell allows the inside work to be perceived -outside, whereas the stiff shell reveals nothing. - -Lastly, the hatching does not always stop the growth that is not -preceded by feeding. For a little while longer the larva continues to -increase in size; it completes the work of acquiring stability in its -new equilibrium, the equilibrium of a living creature; it improves its -physique by supplementary stretching. The Scorpion has already told us -this; the grub of the Minotaurus and many others assure us of the same -thing. It is, on a smaller scale, what we saw before in the Locust’s -wing, [64] which, issuing from a very small sheath, soon unfurls into a -sail of generous breadth. - -Twice, therefore, am I changing my opinions in this history of the -Dung-beetles: first, on the subject of the paste spread on the walls of -the natal chamber; secondly, on the subject of the egg that increases -in size after it is laid. I have corrected my statements without being -greatly ashamed of my mistakes, for it is difficult indeed to reach the -vein of truth at the first tentative boring. There is only one means of -never blundering, which is never to do anything and, above all, to let -ideas alone. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE BULL ONTHOPHAGUS: THE LARVA; THE NYMPH - - -May is the nesting-month of the different Onthophagi and of the Bull -Onthophagus in particular. The mothers now go underground to some -little depth, under the shelter of the cave whence the building and -victualling-materials are extracted. Unaided by the males, who, -heedless of family cares, continue to lead a life of jollity, they -fashion their cabins and stuff them with provisions after the egg is -laid. The work, for that matter, is crude and elementary and hardly -needs the collaboration of the horned dandies. Five or six -establishments at most, each founded in a couple of days, represent the -whole of a mother’s work and leave plenty of time for spring revelry. - -The grub is hatched in about a week; and a strange and paradoxical -little creature it is. On its back it has an enormous sugar-loaf hump, -the weight of which overbalances it each time that it tries to stand on -its legs and walk. At every moment it staggers and falls under the -burden of the hunch. The Sacred Beetle’s larva showed us long ago a -knapsack which was a storehouse of cement to stop up the accidental -cracks in the provision-box and protect the food from drying too -rapidly. The Onthophagus’ grub exaggerates a similar warehouse to the -utmost degree; it makes a cone-shaped monument of it, so extravagant -and grotesque as to border on caricature. Is it some mad masquerader’s -joke or a rational deformity which will have its uses later? The future -will tell us. - -Without saying anything more about it, for lack of words to give a -picture of anything so extraordinary, I will refer the reader to the -grub of the Oniticellus, which I sketched in an earlier chapter. [65] -The two hunchbacks are very much alike. - -Unable to keep its hump upright, the grub of the Onthophagus lies down -on its side in the cell and licks the cream all around it. There is -cream everywhere, on the ceiling, on the walls, on the floor. As soon -as one spot is thoroughly bared, the consumer moves a little way on -with the help of its well-shaped legs; it capsizes again and starts -licking again. As the cabin is large and plentifully supplied, the -patent-food diet lasts some time. - -The fat babies of the Geotrupes, the Copris and the Sacred Beetle -finish at one brief sitting the dainty wherewith their narrow lodge is -hung, a dainty frugally served and just sufficient to whet the appetite -and prepare the stomach for coarser fare; but the Onthophagus’ grub, -that puny dwarf, has enough to last it for a week and more. The -spacious birth-chamber, which is out of all proportion to the -nurseling’s size, has permitted this wastefulness. - -At last the real loaf is attacked. In about a month everything is -consumed, except the wall of the sack. And now the splendid part played -by the hump stands revealed. Glass tubes, which I had got ready in -anticipation, allow me to watch the grub at work. Growing plumper and -plumper and more and more humpbacked, it withdraws to one end of the -cell, which has become a crumbling ruin. Here it builds a casket in -which the transformation will take place. Its materials are the -digestive residuum, converted into mortar and heaped up in the hump. -The stercoral architect is about to construct a masterpiece of elegance -out of its own ordure, held in reserve in that receptacle. - -I follow its movements with the magnifying-glass. It curves itself into -a loop, closes the circuit of the digestive apparatus, brings its two -ends into contact and, with the tip of its mandibles, seizes a pellet -of dung evacuated at that moment. This pellet is extracted very neatly -and moulded into a brick which is measured most carefully. A slight -bend of the creature’s neck sets the brick in place. Others follow, -laid in the most scrupulously regular courses one above the other. -Giving a tap here and there with its palpi, the grub makes sure of the -steadiness of the parts, their accurate binding, their orderly -arrangement. It turns round in the centre of the work as the edifice -rises, even as a mason does when building a turret. - -Sometimes the brick that has been laid becomes loose, because the -cement has given way. The grub takes it up again with its mandibles, -but, before replacing it, coats it with an adhesive moisture. It holds -it to its anus, whence a gummy consolidating-extract trickles -immediately and almost imperceptibly. The hump supplies the materials; -the intestines give, if necessary, the glue that sticks them together. - -In this way an attractive house is obtained, ovoid in form, polished as -stucco within and adorned on the outside with slightly projecting -scales, similar to those on a cedar-cone. Each of these scales is one -of the bricks that have been produced from the hump. The casket is not -large: a cherry-stone would about represent its dimensions; but it is -so accurate, so prettily fashioned that it will bear comparison with -the finest products of entomological industry. - -The Bull Onthophagus has not a monopoly of this jeweller’s art: all, -throughout the group, excel in it to the same degree. One of the -smallest, the Forked Onthophagus, whose work is hardly larger than a -pepper-corn, is as expert as the others in the manufacture of boxes -shaped like a cedar-cone. It is a family gift, an invariable gift, -despite all differences in size, costume or hornery. The Bison Onitis, -the Yellow-footed Oniticellus and certainly many others retire, for the -transformation, into a residence similar in architecture to that of the -Onthophagi; they too tell us that instincts are independent of -structure. - -In the first week of July let us complete the destruction of the Bull -Onthophagus’ cell, already much impaired by the grub, which, after -exhausting the contents of its knapsack, has gnawed the inner layer of -the walls. The ruins are removed as easily as the husk of a ripe -walnut. A sort of shelling process gives us the seed, that is to say, -the nymphal casket, which comes out quite neatly, without sticking to -its wrapper at any point. Break open the gem. The nymph is there, -half-transparent and as it were carved out of crystal. Fortune favours -me with a male, who is more interesting because of his frontal armour. - -The horns outline a splendid crescent, leaning backwards and resting on -the shoulders. They are swollen; they are colourless, like everything -that life elaborates in the midst of a generating-fluid; and at their -base are the dark ocular specks, not yet capable of sight, but -promising to become so. The clypeus is expanding and beginning to stand -out. Seen from the front, the head is that of a Bull, with a wide -muzzle and enormous horns, copied from those of the Aurochs. - -If the artists in the time of the Pharaohs had known the immature -Onthophagus, they would certainly have used him for their hieratical -images. He is quite as good as the Sacred Beetle and even better from -the point of view of those oddities which offer such scope to -sacerdotal symbolism. On the front edge of the corselet, a single horn -rises, as powerful as the two others and shaped like a cylinder ending -in a conical knob. It points forward and is fixed in the middle of the -frontal crescent, projecting a little beyond it. The arrangement is -gloriously original. The carvers of hieroglyphics would have beheld in -it the crescent of Isis wherein dips the edge of the world. - -Some other peculiarities complete the nymph’s curious appearance. To -right and left the abdomen is armed, on either side, with four little -horns resembling crystal spikes. Total, eleven pieces in the creature’s -harness: two on the forehead; one on the thorax; eight on the abdomen. -The beast of yore delighted in queer horns: certain reptiles of the -geological period stuck a pointed spur on their upper eyelids. The -Onthophagus, more greatly daring, sports eight on the sides of his -belly, in addition to the spear which he plants upon his back. The -frontal horns may be excused: they are fairly common; but what does he -propose to do with the others? Nothing at all. They are passing -fancies, jewels of early youth; the adult insect will not retain the -least trace of them. - -The nymph matures. The appendages of the fore-head, at first quite -crystalline, now show, when held up to the light, a streak of reddish -brown, curved like a bow. This is the real horn taking shape, -consistency and colour. The appendage of the corselet and those of the -belly, on the other hand, preserve their glassy appearance. They are -barren sacks, void of any germ capable of development. The organism -produced them in a moment of impulse; now, scornful, or perhaps -powerless, it allows its work to wither and become useless. - -When the nymph sheds its covering and the delicate tunic of the adult -form is rent, these strange horns crumble into fragments, which fall -away with the rest of the cast clothing. In the hope of finding at -least a trace of the vanished things, the lens vainly explores the -bases but lately occupied. There is nothing appreciable left: the nymph -is now smooth; the real has given place to the non-existent. Of the -accessory panoply so full of promise, absolutely naught remains: -everything has vanished into thin air. - -The Bull Onthophagus is not the only one endowed with these fleeting -appendages, which completely disappear when the nymph sheds its -clothes. The other members of the tribe possess similar horny -manifestations on their bellies and corselets. One of them, the -Spectral Onthophagus, on achieving the perfect state, adorns the front -of his corselet with four tiny studs arranged in a semicircle. The two -end ones stand alone; the two middle ones are together. These last -correspond exactly with the base of the nymph’s thoracic horn and might -easily be taken for the atrophied remnant of the vanished appendage. We -must abandon this idea, however, for the lateral studs, which are more -developed than the middle ones, occupy points where the nymph had no -horns. In this Onthophagus, as in the others, the nymphal armour is -misleading and abortive. - -Certain Dung-beetles related to the Onthophagi likewise possess horned -nymphs. One of these is the Yellow-footed Oniticellus, the only one -whom circumstances have allowed me to examine from this point of view. -He wears, in the nymphal stage, a magnificent horn on his corselet and -a row of four spikes on each side of his abdomen, as is the rule among -the Onthophagi. This all disappears entirely in the adult insect. - -It seems likely that, if I had known how to improve the occasion some -years ago, when I was successfully rearing the Bison Onitis sent me -from Montpellier, I should have perceived the same armour on the -nymph’s thorax and abdomen. Not having been warned by earlier -observations and being anxious also to disturb the pair of strangers as -little as possible, I let the opportunity slip. - -Let us remark lastly that the Onitis, Oniticellus and Onthophagus -genera all three construct for the nymphosis a scaly cabin whose shape -suggests the cedar-cone and the fruit of the alder. One may therefore -admit, without being too venturesome, that the various builders of -similar caskets are all acquainted with the nymphal panoply of a horn -on the corselet and a diadem of eight spikes around the abdomen. This -is not equivalent to saying that the armour determines the casket or -the casket the armour. These curious details go together without -influencing each other. - -A simple setting forth of the facts is not enough: we should like to -see the motive of this horned magnificence. Is it a vague reminiscence -of the customs of olden time, when life spent its excess of young sap -upon quaint creations, banished to-day from our better-balanced world? -Is the Onthophagus the dwarfed representative of an ancient race of -horned animals now extinct? Does it give us a faint image of the past? - -The surmise rests upon no valid foundation. The Dung-beetle is recent -in the general chronology of created beings; he ranks among the -last-comers. With him there is no means of going back to the mists of -the past, which lends itself to the invention of imaginary precursors. -Geological and even lacustrine schists, rich though the latter be in -Diptera and Weevils, have hitherto furnished not the slightest relic of -the dung-workers. This being so, it is wiser not to claim horned -ancestors from the distant past as accounting for those degenerate -descendants, the Onthophagi. - -Since the past explains nothing, let us turn to the future. If the -thoracic horn be not a reminiscence, it may be a promise. It represents -a timid attempt, which the ages will harden into a permanent weapon. It -lets us assist at the slow and gradual evolution of a new organ; it -shows us life in travail of a thing not yet existing on the adult -Beetle’s corselet, a thing which will exist one day. We catch the -genesis of the species in the act; the present teaches us how the -future is prepared. - -And what does the Beetle propose to do with this object of his -ambition, this spear which he hopes by and by to place upon his spine? -At any rate as a dazzling piece of masculine finery the thing is -already fashionable among the various foreign Scarabs that feed -themselves and their grubs on decaying vegetable matter. These giants -among the wearers of armoured wing-cases delight in associating their -placid corpulence with halberds terrible to gaze upon. - -Look at one, Dynastes Hercules by name, a denizen of rotten tree-stumps -under the scorching skies of the West Indies. The peaceable colossus -well deserves his epithet: he measures three inches long. Of what -service can the threatening rapier of the corselet and the toothed -lifting-jack of the forehead be to him, unless it be to make him look -grand in the presence of his female, herself deprived of these -extravagances? Perhaps also they are of use to him in certain -operations, even as the trident helps the Minotaurus to crumble his -pellets and cart his rubbish. Implements of which we do not know the -use always strike us as singular. Having never been intimate with the -West-Indian Hercules, I must content myself with suspicions touching -the purpose of his fearsome equipment. - -Well, one of the subjects in my insect-house would achieve a similar -savage finery if he persisted in his attempts. I speak of the Cow -Onthophagus (O. vacca). His nymph has on its forehead a big horn, one -only, bent backward; on its corselet it possesses a similar horn, -jutting forward. The two, approaching their tips, look like some kind -of pincers. What does the insect lack in order to acquire, on a smaller -scale, the eccentric ornament of the West-Indian Scarab? It lacks -perseverance. It matures the appendage of the forehead and allows that -of the corselet to perish atrophied. It succeeds no better than the -Bull Onthophagus in its attempt to grow a pointed stake upon its back; -it loses a glorious opportunity of making itself fine for the wedding -and terrible in battle. - -The others are no more successful. I bring up six different species. -All, in the nymphal state, possess the thoracic horn and the -eight-pointed ventral coronet; not one benefits by these advantages, -which disappear altogether when the adult bursts its wrapping. My near -neighbourhood numbers a dozen species of Onthophagi; the world contains -some hundreds. All, natives and foreigners, have the same general -structure; all most probably possess the dorsal appendage at an early -age; and none of them, in spite of the variety of climate, torrid in -one place, temperate in another, has succeeded in hardening it into a -permanent horn. - -Could not the future complete a work whose design is so very clearly -traced? We are the more inclined to ask this, because appearances are -all in favour of the question. Examine under the magnifying-glass the -frontal horns of the Bull Onthophagus in the nymphal state; then with -the same scrupulous care look at the spear upon the corselet. At first, -there is no difference between them, except for the general -configuration. In both cases we find the same glassy aspect, the same -sheath swollen with colourless fluid, the same incipient organ plainly -marked. A leg in process of formation is not more clearly announced -than the horn on the corselet or those on the forehead. - -Can time be lacking for the thoracic growth to become organized into a -stiff and permanent appendage? The evolution of the nymph is swift; the -insect is perfect in a few weeks. Could it not be that, though this -brief space suffices to promote the maturity of the horns on the -forehead, the thoracic horn requires a longer time to ripen? Let us -prolong the nymphal period artificially and give the germ time to -develop. It seems to me that a decrease of temperature, moderated and -maintained for some weeks, for months if necessary, should be capable -of bringing about this result, by delaying the progress of the -evolution. Then, with a gentle slowness, favourable to delicate -formations, the promised organ will crystallize, so to speak, and -become the spear promised by appearances. - -The experiment attracted me. I was unable to undertake it for lack of -the means whereby to produce a cold, even temperature over a long time. -What should I have obtained if my penury had not made me abandon the -enterprise? A retarding of the progress of the metamorphosis, but -nothing more, apparently. The horn on the corselet would have persisted -in its sterility and, sooner or later, would have disappeared. - -I have reasons for my conviction. The abode of the Onthophagus engaged -on his metamorphosis is not deep down; variations of temperature are -easily felt. On the other hand, the seasons are capricious, especially -the spring. Under the skies of Provence, the months of May and June, if -the mistral lend a hand, have periods when the thermometer drops in -such a way as to suggest a return of winter. - -To these vicissitudes add the influence of a more northerly climate. -The Onthophagi occupy a wide zone of latitude. Those of the north, less -favoured by the sun than those of the south, might quite possibly have -the date of their transformation postponed by a change in the weather -and consequently be subjected to a lower temperature for several weeks. -This would spin out the work of evolution and give the thoracic armour -time to harden into horn, at rare intervals, as chance may prescribe. -Here and there, then, the requisite condition of a moderate or even low -temperature at the time of the nymphosis actually exists, without the -need of any artificial agency. - -Well, what becomes of this surplus time placed at the service of the -organic labour? Does the promised horn ripen? Not a bit of it: it -withers just as it does under the stimulus of a hot sun. In the records -of entomology I find no mention of an Onthophagus carrying a horn upon -his corselet. No one would even have suspected the possibility of such -an armour, if I had not bruited abroad the strange appearance of the -nymph. The influence of climate, therefore, has nothing to do with the -matter. - -As we go more deeply into it, the question becomes more complicated. -The horny appendages of the Onthophagus, the Copris, the Minotaurus and -many others are the male’s prerogative; the female is without them or -wears them only on a reduced and very modest scale. We must look upon -these products as personal ornaments rather than as implements of -labour. The male makes himself fine for the pairing; but, with the -exception of the Minotaurus, who pins down the dry pellet that needs -crushing and holds it in position with his trident, I know none that -uses his armour as a tool. Horns and prongs on the forehead, crests and -crescents on the corselet are the male coquette’s jewels and nothing -more. The other sex requires no such baits to attract suitors: its -femininity is enough; and finery is neglected. - -Now here is something to give us food for thought. The nymph of the -Onthophagus of the female sex, a nymph with an unarmed forehead, -carries on its thorax a vitreous horn as long, as rich in promise as -that of the other sex. If this latter excrescence be the design of an -incipient ornament, then the former would be so too, in which case the -two sexes, both anxious for self-embellishment, would work with equal -zeal to grow a horn upon their thorax. We should be witnessing the -genesis of a species that would not be really an Onthophagus, but a -derivative of the group; we should be beholding the commencement of -singularities banished hitherto from among the Dung-beetles, none of -whom, of either sex, has thought of planting a spear upon his chine. -Stranger still: the female, always the more humbly attired throughout -the entomological kingdom, would be vying with the male in her -hankering after quaint adornment. An ambition of this sort leaves me -incredulous. - -We must therefore believe that, if the possibilities of the future -should ever produce a Dung-beetle carrying a horn upon his corselet, -this upsetter of present customs will not be an Onthophagus who has -succeeded in maturing the thoracic appendage of the nymph, but rather -an insect resulting from a new model. The creative power throws aside -the old moulds and replaces them by others, fashioned with fresh care, -in accordance with plans of an inexhaustible variety. Its laboratory is -not a peddling rag-fair, where the living assume the cast clothes of -the dead: it is a medallist’s studio, where each effigy receives the -stamp of a special die. Its treasure-house of forms, illimitable in its -riches, makes niggardliness impossible: there is no patching up of the -old in order to create the new. It breaks every mould once used; it -does away with it, without resorting to shabby after-touches. - -Then what is the meaning of those horny preparations, which are always -blighted before they come to anything? With no great shame I confess -that I have not the slightest idea. My reply may not be couched in -learned phraseology, but it has one merit, that of absolute sincerity. - - - - - - - - -NOTES - - -[1] Chapters I. and II. of the present volume, forming the first two -chapters of Vol. I. of the Souvenirs entomologiques. The remaining -chapters on the Sacred Beetle appeared, in the original, in Vol. V. of -that work, for which volume the above was written as a -preface.—Translator’s Note. - -[2] A village in the department of the Gard, facing Avignon.—Author’s -Note. - -[3] ‘When you and I start housekeeping, alas, what shall we do? - You in front and I behind, we’ll shove the tub along!’ - -[4] Pierre Joseph Proudhon (1809–1865), the French socialist, author of -Qu’est-ce que la propriété? etc.—Translator’s Note. - -[5] Émile Blanchard (b. 1819), a French naturalist, best known by his -works on entomology.—Translator’s Note. - -[6] The Scarabæi also bear the name of Ateuchus.—Author’s Note. - -[7] Johann Karl Wilhelm Illiger (1775–1813), a German naturalist, -editor of a Magasin für Insektenkunde and author of Prodromus -systematis mammalium et avium, etc.—Translator’s Note. - -[8] Gymnopleurus pilularius is a Dung-beetle nearly related to the -Sacred Beetle, but smaller. As his name suggests, he also rolls pellets -of dung. The Gymnopleurus is very general, even in the north, whereas -Scarabæus sacer is hardly ever found away from the shores of the -Mediterranean.—Author’s Note. - -[9] A light opera, with music by Victor Massé and libretto by Jules -Barbier and Michel Carré (1852).—Translator’s Note. - -[10] ‘Ah, how sweet is far niente, - When round us throbs the busy world!’ - -[11] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps. i. to v.—Translator’s Note. - -[12] The weekly holiday in the French schools.—Translator’s Note. - -[13] This seems the place in which to remind the reader that the first -two chapters of the present volume correspond with Chapters I. and II. -of the first volume of the Souvenirs entomologiques in their original -form. Chapters III. to VII. of the present volume are translations of -Chapters I. to V. of the fifth volume of the Souvenirs, published many -years later, at a time when Fabre had completed his study of the Sacred -Beetle.—Translator’s Note. - -[14] Cf. Mulsant’s Coléoptères de France: Lamellicornes.—Author’s Note. - -[15] Jean de La Fontaine (1621–1695), author of the famous -Fables.—Translator’s Note. - -[16] ‘... a double chance of gain: - First, one’s own profit; next, another’s loss.’ - -[17] .11 to .15 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[18] Close upon 9½ feet.—Translator’s Note. - -[19] 1.75 × 1.17 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[20] 1.36 × 1.09 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[21] .39 × .19 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[22] Cf. The Life and Love of the Insect, by J. Henri Fabre, translated -by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. xi.—Translator’s Note. - -[23] Cf. The Hunting Wasps, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander -Teixeira de Mattos: chaps, iv. to x.—Translator’s Note. - -[24] .19 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[25] The last ventral segment of the abdomen.—Translator’s Note. - -[26] Cf. Bramble-bees and Others, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. ix.—Translator’s Note. - -[27] Pierre André Latreille (1762–1833), one of the founders of -entomological science, a professor at the Muséum d’histoire naturelle -and member of the Académie des sciences.—Translator’s Note. - -[28] Cf. Mémoires du Muséum d’histoire naturelle: vol. v., p. -249.—Author’s Note. - -[29] Horapollo Nilous, Orus Apollo, or Horos Apollo (fl. circa 400), -author of the Hieroglyphica.—Translator’s Note. - -[30] Etienne Marcel Mulsant (1797–1880), author of the Histoire -naturelle des coléoptères en France (1839–1874) mentioned on page -94.—Translator’s Note. - -[31] Hieroglyphics: Book 1., x.; Cory’s translation.—Translator’s Note. - -[32] 1.28 × .93 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[33] Cf. inter alia the author’s Some Reflections upon Insect -Psychology, in The Mason-Bees, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. vii.—Translator’s Note. - -[34] Mites or Ticks.—Translator’s Note. - -[35] Rove-beetles.—Translator’s Note. - -[36] A genus of Dung-beetles.—Translator’s Note. - -[37] Cf. Chapters XI., XVII. and XVIII. of the present -volume.—Translator’s Note. - -[38] 1.56 × 1.32 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[39] Cf. Chapters XII. to XIV. of the present volume.—Translator’s -Note. - -[40] Cf. The Mason-bees and Bramble-bees and Others: -passim.—Translator’s Note. - -[41] Rose-chafers.—Translator’s Note. - -[42] Or imperial mushroom. For this and the purple boletus, cf. The -Life of the Fly, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de -Mattos: chap. xviii.—Translator’s Note. - -[43] .546 × .273 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[44] .585 × .39 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[45] Pantagruel: chap. i.; Sir Thomas Urquhart’s -translation.—Translator’s Note. - -[46] Minotaurus typhœus. Cf. The Life and Love of the Insect: chap. -x.—Translator’s Note. - -[47] A genus of Longicorns, or Long-horned Beetles.—Translator’s Note. - -[48] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps, i. to v.—Translator’s Note. - -[49] .273 to .312 × .156 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[50] Johann Leonhard Frisch (1666–1743), a Lutheran clergyman, -lexicologist and natural historian and member of the Berlin Academy. -His Beschreibung von allerlei Insecten in Deutschland was published in -1720 to 1738.—Translator’s Note. - -[51] Martial Étienne Mulsant (1797–1880), professor of natural history -at the Lycée de Lyon; author of Histoire naturelle des coléoptères de -France (1839–1846) and other entomological works.—Translator’s Note. - -[52] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chaps. vi. to ix.—Translator’s -Note. - -[53] Cf. Bramble-bees and Others: chaps. ix. and x.—Translator’s Note. - -[54] The Rose-chafer, whose grub forms the prey of the Scolia-wasp. Cf. -The Life and Love of the Insect: chap. xi.—Translator’s Note. - -[55] Cf. Fabre’s own youthful experiences, in The Life of the Fly: -chap. vii.—Translator’s Note. - -[56] For the author’s stay at Ajaccio, where he was a schoolmaster in -his youth, cf. The Life of the Fly: chap. vi.—Translator’s Note. - -[57] Chapter XI. of the present book appeared in the fifth volume of -the Souvenirs entomologiques; this and the following chapter formed -part of the tenth and last volume.—Translator’s Note. - -[58] Cf. The Life and Love of the Insect: chap. x.—Translator’s Note. - -[59] For the Epeiræ, or Garden Spiders, the Lycosa, or Black-bellied -Tarantula, and the Labyrinth and Clotho Spiders, cf. The Life of the -Spider, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: -passim.—Translator’s Note. - -[60] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chaps. viii., ix., xvi. and -xvii.—Translator’s Note. - -[61] Cf. The Life of the Fly and The Life of the Caterpillar: -passim.—Translator’s Note. - -[62] .039 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[63] Cf. The Life and Love of the Insect: chaps. xvii. and xviii. The -seven essays on the Languedocian Scorpion will be included in the last -volume of this complete edition of Fabre’s entomological -works.—Translator’s Note. - -[64] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chap. xix.—Translator’s Note. - -[65] Chapter XI. of the present volume.—Translator’s Note. - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SACRED BEETLE AND OTHERS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may -do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected -by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark -license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country other than the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where - you are located before using this eBook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm website -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that: - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of -the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the Foundation as set -forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, -Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up -to date contact information can be found at the Foundation's website -and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |