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diff --git a/old/66744-0.txt b/old/66744-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 190833e..0000000 --- a/old/66744-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7001 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Life of the Scorpion, by Jean-Henri -Fabre - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Life of the Scorpion - -Author: Jean-Henri Fabre - -Translator: Alexander Teixeira de Mattos - Bernard Miall - -Release Date: November 15, 2021 [eBook #66744] - -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/Canadian Libraries) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF THE SCORPION *** - - - - THE LIFE - OF THE SCORPION - - - BY - J. HENRI FABRE - - - TRANSLATED BY - Alexander Teixeira de Mattos - FELLOW OF ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON - AND - Bernard Miall - - - NEW YORK - DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY - 1923 - - - - - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: THE DWELLING 3 - II THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: FOOD 30 - III THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: THE POISON 53 - IV THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: THE IMMUNITY OF THE LARVÆ 83 - V THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: PRELUDES TO THE WEDDING 111 - VI THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: THE PAIRING 134 - VII THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: THE FAMILY 153 - VIII THE PENTATOMÆ AND THEIR EGGS 183 - IX THE MASKED BUG 216 - X THE TEREBINTH LOUSE: THE GALLS 242 - XI THE TEREBINTH LOUSE: THE MIGRATION 271 - XII THE DORTHESIA 290 - XIII THE KERMES OF THE OAK 311 - - - - - - - - -THE LIFE OF THE SCORPION - - -CHAPTER I - -THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: THE DWELLING - - -The Scorpion is an uncommunicative creature, secret in his practices -and disagreeable to deal with, so that his history, apart from -anatomical detail, amounts to little or nothing. The scalpel of the -experts has made us acquainted with his organic structure; but no -observer, as far as I know, has thought of interviewing him, with any -sort of persistence, on the subject of his private habits. Ripped up, -after being steeped in spirits of wine, he is very well-known; acting -within the domain of his instincts, he is hardly known at all. And yet -none of the segmented animals is more deserving of a detailed -biography. He has at all times appealed to the popular imagination, -even to the point of figuring among the signs of the zodiac. Fear made -the gods, said Lucretius. Deified by terror, the Scorpion is -immortalized in the sky by a constellation and in the almanac by the -symbol for the month of October. - -I made the acquaintance of the Languedocian Scorpion (Scorpio -occitanus, LAT) half a century ago, in the Villeneuve hills, on the far -side of the Rhone, opposite Avignon. When the thrice-blessed Thursday -[1] came, from morning till night I used to turn over the stones in -quest of the Scolopendra, [2] the chief subject of the thesis which I -was preparing for my doctor’s degree. Sometimes, instead of that -magnificent horror, the mighty Myriapod, I would find, under the raised -stone, another and no less unpleasant recluse. It was he. With his tail -turned over his back and a drop of poison gleaming at the end of the -sting, he lay displaying his pincers at the entrance to a burrow. -Br-r-r-r! Have done with the formidable creature! The stone fell back -into its place. - -Utterly tired out, I used to return from my excursions rich in -Scolopendræ and richer still in those illusions which paint the future -rose-colour when we first begin to bite freely into the bread of -knowledge. Science! The witch! I used to come home with joy in my -heart: I had found some Centipedes. What more was needed to complete my -ingenuous happiness? I carried off the Scolopendræ and left the -Scorpions behind, not without a secret feeling that a day would come -when I should have to concern myself with them. - -Fifty years have elapsed; and that day has come. It behoves me, after -the Spiders, [3] his near neighbours in organization, to cross-examine -my old acquaintance, chief of the Arachnids in our district. It so -happens that the Languedocian Scorpion abounds in my neighbourhood; -nowhere have I seen him so plentiful as on the Sérignan hills, with -their sunny, rocky slopes beloved by the arbutus and the arborescent -heath. There the chilly creature finds a sub-tropical temperature and -also a sandy soil, easy to dig. This is, I think, as far as he goes -towards the north. - -His favourite spots are the bare expanses poor in vegetation, where the -rock, outcropping in vertical strata, is baked by the sun and worn by -the wind and rain until it ends by crumbling into flakes. He is usually -found in colonies at quite a distance from one another, as though the -members of a single family, migrating in all directions, were becoming -a tribe. It is not sociability, it is anything but that. Excessively -intolerant and passionately devoted to solitude, they continually -occupy their shelters alone. In vain do I seek them out: I never find -two of them under the same stone; or, to be more accurate, when there -are two, one is engaged in eating the other. We shall have occasion to -see the savage hermit ending the nuptial festivities in this fashion. - -The lodging is very rough and ready. Let us turn over the stones, which -are generally flat and fairly large. The Scorpion’s presence is -indicated by a cavity as wide as the neck of a quart bottle and a few -inches deep. In stooping, we commonly see the master of the house on -the threshold of his dwelling, with his pincers outspread and his tail -in the posture of defence. At other times, when he owns a deeper cell, -the hermit is invisible. We have to use a small pocket-trowel to bring -him out into the light of day. Here he is, lifting or brandishing his -weapon. ’Ware fingers! - -I take him by the tail with a pair of tweezers and slip him, head -foremost, into a stout paper bag, which will isolate him from the other -prisoners. The whole of my formidable harvest goes into a tin box. In -this way both the collecting and the transport are carried out with -perfect safety. - -Before housing my animals, let me briefly describe them. The common -Black Scorpion (Scorpio europæus, LINN.) is known to all. He frequents -the dark holes and corners near our dwelling-places; on rainy days in -autumn he makes his way indoors, sometimes even under our bed-clothes. -The odious animal causes us more fright than damage. Although not rare -in my present abode, the results of its visits are never in the least -serious. The weird beast, overrated in reputation, is repulsive rather -than dangerous. - -Much more to be feared and much less well-known generally is the -Languedocian Scorpion, resident in the Mediterranean provinces. Far -from seeking our habitations, he lives apart, in the untilled -solitudes. Beside the Black Scorpion he is a giant who, when -full-grown, measures three to three and a half inches in length. His -colouring is the yellow of faded straw. - -The tail, which is really the animal’s abdomen, is a series of five -prismatic segments, shaped like little kegs whose staves meet in -undulating ridges resembling strings of beads. Similar cords cover the -arms and fore-arms of the nippers and divide them into long facets. -Others meander along the back like the joints of a cuirass whose seams -are adorned with a freakish milled edging. These bead-like -protuberances give the Scorpion’s armour a fierce and robustious -appearance which is characteristic of the Languedocian Scorpion. It is -as though the animal were fashioned out of chips hewn with an adze. - -The tail ends in a sixth joint, which is smooth and vesicular. This is -the gourd in which the poison, a formidable fluid resembling water in -appearance, is elaborated and held in reserve. A dark, curved and very -sharp sting completes the apparatus. A pore, visible only under the -lens, opens at some distance from the point. Through this the venomous -liquid is injected into the puncture. The sting is very hard and very -sharp. Holding it between my finger-tips, I can push it through a sheet -of cardboard as easily as if I were using a needle. - -Owing to its bold curve, the sting points downwards when the tail is -extended in a straight line. To make use of his weapon, therefore, the -Scorpion must raise it, turn it over and strike upwards. This, in fact, -is his invariable practice. In order to pink the adversary subdued by -the nippers, the tail is arched over the animal’s back and brought -forward. The Scorpion, for that matter, is almost always in this -position: whether in motion or at rest, he arches his tail over his -back. He very rarely drags it behind him, relaxed into a straight line. - -The pincers, those buccal hands recalling the claws of the Crayfish, -are organs of battle and of information. When moving forwards, the -Scorpion holds them in front of him, with the two fingers opened, to -take stock of objects encountered on the way. When he wants to stab an -enemy, the pincers seize the foe and hold him motionless, while the -sting is brought into play over the assailant’s back. Lastly, when he -wishes to nibble a tit-bit at leisure, they serve as hands and hold the -prey within the reach of the mouth. They are never used for walking, -for stability or for excavation. - -That is the function of the real legs. These are suddenly truncated and -end in a group of short, movable claws, faced by a short, fine point, -which, to some extent, serves as a thumb. The stump is finished off -with rough bristles. The whole constitutes an excellent grapnel, which -explains the Scorpion’s aptitude for roaming over the trellis-work of -my wire-gauze covers, for making long halts there, motionless and -upside down, and, lastly, for scrambling along a vertical wall, -notwithstanding his clumsiness and weight. - -Underneath, just behind the legs, are the combs, those strange organs, -an exclusive attribute of the Scorpions. They owe their name to their -structure, consisting of a long row of plates, set close together like -the teeth of a hair-comb. The anatomists are inclined to ascribe to -them the functions of a clutch intended to hold the couple bound -together at the moment of pairing. We will leave it at that until we -are better informed, provided that the specimens which I propose to -rear tell me their secret. - -On the other hand, I know of another function, which is very easily -observed when the Scorpion meanders, belly uppermost, over the wire -trellis of my dish-covers. When he is at rest, the two combs are laid -flat on the abdomen, behind the legs. The moment he begins to walk, -they stick out on either side, at right angles to the body, like the -naked wings of an unfledged nestling. They sway gently up and down, -reminding us of the balancing-pole of an inexperienced rope-dancer. [4] -If the Scorpion stops, they are at once retracted, fall back upon the -belly and cease to move: if he resumes his walk, they are at once -extended and again begin their gentle oscillation. The animal therefore -seems to use them at least as a balancing mechanism. - -The eyes, eight in number, are divided into three groups. In the middle -of that weird segment which is at once head and thorax, two large and -very convex eyes gleam side by side, reminding us of the Lycosa’s [5] -superb lenses; they are apparently in both instances for use at close -range, because of their great convexity. A ridge of protuberances -arranged in a wavy line serves as an eyebrow and gives them a fierce -appearance. Their axis, which is almost horizontal, can hardly allow -them more than lateral vision. - -The same remark applies to two other groups, each composed of three -eyes, which are very small and placed much farther forward, nearly on -the edge of the sudden truncation that forms an arch above the mouth. -On both right and left the three tiny lenses are set in a short -straight line, their axis pointing laterally. On the whole, both the -small and the large eyes are so arranged that it can by no means be -easy for the animal to obtain a clear view ahead. - -Extremely short-sighted and squinting outrageously, how does the -Scorpion manage to steer himself? Like a blind man, he gropes his way: -he guides himself with his hands, that is to say, his pincers, which he -carries outstretched, with the fingers open, to sound the space before -him. Watch two Scorpions wandering in the open air in my rearing-cages. -A meeting would be disagreeable, sometimes even dangerous for them. -Nevertheless, the one behind always goes ahead as though he did not -perceive his neighbour; but, as soon as he touches the other ever so -little with his pincers, he at once gives a sudden start, a sign of -surprise and uneasiness, followed at once by a retreat and a change of -direction. To recognize the irascible one thus overhauled, he had to -touch him. - -Let us now instal our prisoners. I shall never learn all I want to know -by turning over stones and making chance observations on the adjacent -hills: I must resort to keeping the animals in captivity, the only -manner of inducing them to reveal their domestic habits. What -rearing-method shall I employ? One in particular appeals to me, one -which will leave the creature its full liberty, which will relieve me -of the cares of catering and which will enable me to inspect my -captives at any hour of the day, from year’s end to year’s end. This -seems to me an excellent means, far superior to the others, so much so -that I reckon on a magnificent success. - -It is a question of establishing within my own grounds, in the open -air, a hamlet of Scorpions, by cunning securing for them the same -conditions of well-being which they enjoyed at home. In the first days -of January, I found my colony right at the end of the harmas, [6] in -the quiet corner exposed to the sun and sheltered from the north wind -by a thick rosemary-hedge. The ground, a mixture of pebbles and red -clayey soil, is unsuitable. Considering the temperament of my charges, -great stay-at-homes from what I can see, this is easily remedied. For -each of my colonists I dig a hole, of a gallon or two in capacity, and -fill it with sandy earth similar to that of the original site. I pack -this earth lightly, which will give it the consistence needed for -digging without land-slips, and in it I contrived a short -entrance-passage, the beginning of the excavation which the Scorpion -will not fail to make in order to obtain a cell in conformity with his -tastes. A wide flat stone covers and overlaps the whole. Opposite the -passage of my own making, I scoop out a hollow: this is the -entrance-door. - -In front of the hollow I place a Scorpion, taken that moment from the -paper bag in which he has just been conveyed from the mountain. Seeing -a retreat similar to those with which he is familiar, he goes in of his -own accord and does not show himself again. In this way I establish the -hamlet, consisting of some twenty inhabitants, all adults. The -dwellings, placed at a suitable distance from one another, to avoid the -quarrels liable to occur among neighbours, are arranged in a row on a -stretch of ground cleared with the rake. It will be easy for me to -observe events at a glance, even at night, by the light of a lantern. -As to food, I need not trouble about that. My guests will find their -own provisions, for the spot is quite as well-stocked with game as that -from which I brought them. - -The colonies in the paddock are not enough. Certain observations call -for minute attention which is incompatible with the disturbances out of -doors. A second menagerie is set up, this time on the large table in my -study, a table around which I have already covered and am still -covering so many miles in pursuit of stubborn knowledge. Bring up the -big earthenware pans, my usual apparatus! Filled with sifted sandy -earth, each receives two broad potsherds, which, half buried, form a -ceiling and represent the refuge under the stones. The establishment is -surrounded by the dome of a wire-gauze cover. - -Here I house the Scorpions, two by two and of different sexes, as far -as I am able to judge. No outward characteristic that I know of -distinguishes the males from the females. I take the big bellied -specimens for females and the less obese for males. As age intervenes -with its variations of stoutness, mistakes are inevitable, unless I -first open the subject’s paunch, a procedure which would cut short any -attempt at rearing. We will allow ourselves to be guided by size, since -we have no other means of judging, and house the Scorpions two by two, -one corpulent and brown, the other less obese and of a lighter colour. -There are certain to be some actual couples among the number. - -Here are a few details for the benefit of whoso may care one day to -take up similar studies. An animal-breeder’s trade calls for -apprenticeship; the experience of others is not unhelpful, especially -when the animals in question are dangerous to deal with. It would never -do inadvertently to lay a hand on one of my present prisoners who had -escaped from his cage and lay skulking among the utensils littering the -table. Serious precautions must be taken by those who propose to spend -whole years in the company of such neighbours. They are as follows: - -The trellis-work dome is fitted deep into the pan and touches the -earthenware bottom. Between the two there is a circular space which I -fill with clay soil, packed while wet. So fitted, the wire cover is -quite immovable; the apparatus runs no risk of coming to pieces and -yielding a way of escape. On the other hand, if the Scorpions dig -deeply on the edges of the earthy space at their disposal, they come -upon either the wire-gauze or the pottery, both of which are -insuperable obstacles. So we need have no fear of escape. - -But this is not enough. While we have to see to our own safety, we must -also think of the captives’ welfare. The dwelling is hygienic and easy -to carry into the sun or the shade, as the observation of the moment -may demand; but it does not contain the victuals with which the -Scorpions, frugal though they be, cannot dispense indefinitely. With a -view to feeding them without moving the cover, the trellis-work is -pierced at the top with a small opening through which I slip the live -game, caught from day to day as needed. After this has been served, a -plug of cotton-wool closes the buttery hatch. - -My caged specimens, soon after their installation, enable me to watch -their work as excavators even better than the occupants of the open-air -community, for whom my trowel has prepared an entrance-passage beneath -the stones. The Languedocian Scorpion is master of craft; he knows how -to house himself in a cell of his own making. In order to establish -themselves, each of my interned prisoners has at his disposal a wide, -curved potsherd, which, set firmly in the sand, provides the foundation -of a grotto, a simple arched fissure. The Scorpion has only to dig -beneath this and lodge himself as comfortably as he can. - -The excavator does not dally long, especially in the sun, whose glare -annoys him. Steadying himself on his fourth pair of legs, the Scorpion -rakes the ground with the three other pairs: he turns it over, reducing -it to a loose dust with a graceful agility that reminds us of a Dog -scratching a hole in which to bury a bone. After the brisk twirling of -the legs comes the touch of the broom. With his tail laid flat and -relaxed to the utmost, he pushes back the earthy mass, making the same -movement as does our elbow when thrusting an obstacle aside. If the -rubbish thus shot back be not sufficiently out of the way, the sweeper -returns, repeats the process and finishes the job. - -Observe that the pincers, notwithstanding their strength, never take -part in the digging, even to the extent of extracting a grain of sand. -They are reserved for feeding, fighting, and, above all, enquiry, and -would lose the exquisite sensitiveness of their fingers if used for -that heavy task. In this way the legs and tail, in repeated -alternations, scratch the soil and thrust the rubbish outside. At last -the worker disappears beneath the potsherd. A mound of sand obstructs -the entrance to the vault. At moments we see it shaking and partly -slipping, signs that the work is still going on with a further shooting -of rubbish, until the cell attains a suitable size. When the hermit -wants to go out, he will, without difficulty push back the crumbling -barricade. - -The Black Scorpion of our houses has not this capacity for making -himself a crypt. He is found in the mortar collected at the bottom of -walls, the woodwork disjointed by the damp, the rubbish-heaps in dark -places, but he restricts himself to using these refuges as he finds -them, being unable to improve the hiding-place by his own industry. He -does not know how to dig. This ignorance is apparently due to his -feeble broom, his smooth, slender tail, very different from the -Languedocian’s, which is powerful and armed with knotty protuberances. - -In the open air, the colony in the enclosure finds a lodging modelled -by my care. Under the flat stones where I have contrived to outline a -cell in the sandy earth, each of them at once disappears and labours to -complete the work, as I perceived by the mound heaped upon the -threshold. Wait a few more days and lift the stone: at a depth of three -or four inches we see the lair, the burrow, occupied at night and open -also by day, when the weather is bad. Sometimes a sudden bend widens -the recess into a spacious chamber. In front of the mansion, -immediately under the stone, is the entrance-hall. - -This, by day, in the hours of blazing sunshine, is where the solitary -prefers to be, in the blessed heat gently shaded by the stone. When -turned out of this hot bath, his supreme felicity, he brandishes his -knotty tail and swiftly retreats indoors, out of reach of the light and -of our eyes. Replace the stone and come back fifteen minutes later: we -shall find him once more on the threshold of the cavern, where it is so -pleasant when a generous sun warms the roof. - -The cold season is thus passed in a very monotonous fashion. Both in -the hamlet of the enclosure and the menagerie of the cages, the -Scorpions go out neither by day nor at night, as I observe by the -barricade of sand which remains untouched at the entrance to the home. -Are they torpid? Not a bit of it! My frequent visits show them always -ready for action, with curved and threatening tails. If the weather -grows cooler, they retreat to the bottom of their burrows; if it is -fine, they return to the threshold to warm their backs by the touch of -the sunny stone. Nothing more for the moment: the anchorite’s life is -spent in long spells of meditation, either in the cool moist crypt or -under the porch of the house, behind the sandy barricade. - -In the course of April a sudden change takes place. In the cages, the -shelter of the potsherds is abandoned. Gravely the occupants roam -around the arena, clamber up the trellis and stand there, even by day. -Several of them sleep out and do not go home again, preferring the -out-of-door distractions to soft slumbers in the alcove under ground. - -In the hamlet in the enclosure, events are more serious. Some of the -inhabitants, selected from the smaller, leave the house at night and go -wandering without my knowing what becomes of them. I expect to see them -return at the end of their stroll, for no other part of the paddock has -stones to suit them. Well, not one comes home; all that have gone have -disappeared for good. Soon the big ones also display the same vagabond -mood; and at last the emigration becomes so active that a moment is at -hand when I shall have nothing left of my free colony. Farewell to my -lovingly cherished plans! The open-air community, on which I based my -fondest hopes, becomes rapidly depopulated; its inhabitants make off, -vanish I know not whither. All my seeking fails to recover a single one -of the runaways. - -Great ill calls for great remedies. I need an insuperable precinct, -much more extensive than that of the cages, which establishments do not -give scope to the pastimes of my specimens. I have a forcing-frame in -which some fleshy plants are stored during the winter. It goes to a -depth of three feet into the ground. The brick work is plastered and -smoothed with all the care that the mason’s trowel and wet rag can give -it. I cover the bottom with fine sand and large flat stones distributed -here and there. Having made these preparations, I instal inside the -frame, each under his own stone, the remaining Scorpions, and those -which I have captured this very morning complete my collection. With -the aid of this vertical barrier shall I this time retain my specimens -and see what interests me so greatly? - -I shall see nothing at all. Next morning, all of them, old and new, -have disappeared. There were twenty of them: and not one remains. Had I -reflected ever so little, I should have expected this. At the season of -persistent rain, in the autumn, how often have I not found the Black -Scorpion hiding in the crevices of the windows? Fleeing the dampness of -his usual retreats, the dark corners of the yards, he has clambered up -to me by scaling the front wall to the height of the first storey. The -slight roughness of the plaster was enough to enable his grapnels to -make the perpendicular ascent. - -Despite his corpulence, the Languedocian is as good a climber as the -Black Scorpion. I have a proof of it before my eyes. A barrier three -feet high, as smooth as a wash of common mortar can make it, has not -stopped one of my captives. In a single night, the whole band has -decamped from the frame. - -Rearing in the open air, even within walls, is recognized as being -impracticable: the lack of discipline in the flock nullifies the -shepherd’s devices. One resource alone remains, that of internment -under cover. Thus the year ends, with some ten pans standing on the -large table in my study. Out of doors is prohibited: those night -prowlers, the cats, seeing something move about in my appliances, would -upset everything. - -On the other hand, the population is restricted under each cover and -amounts to two or three inhabitants at most. There is no space. In the -absence of a sufficiency of neighbours and also of the violent exposure -to the sun which they enjoyed on their native hills, the prisoners on -my table seem smitten with home-sickness and hardly respond to my -expectations. Cowering under their potsherds or hanging to the trellis, -most of them slumber, dreaming of liberty. The small results which I -obtain from my bored specimens is far from satisfying me. I want -something more than this. The close of the year is spent in gleaning -petty facts and making plans for a better establishment. - -The outcome of these plans is a glazed prison whose panes will give no -hold to the grapnels and will make climbing impossible. The joiner -builds me a frame, the glazier completes the work. I myself varnish the -woodwork, so as to make the uprights very slippery. The structure looks -like four window-frames placed side by side and put together to form a -rectangle. The bottom is a flooring with a layer of sand. A lid covers -it altogether when the weather is cold and especially when the rain -threatens a flood, which would have disastrous effects on this -undrained ground. It is raised more or less high according to the state -of the day. The enclosure has ample room for two dozen chambers, each -with its potsherd and its occupant. Moreover, wide alleys and spacious -cross-roads allow long walks to be taken without hindrance. - -Well, at the very moment when I believe myself to have solved the -housing-question satisfactorily, I perceive that the glazed park will -not retain its population long, if I do not invent a remedy. The glass -stops short any attempt at scaling: for lack of adhesive sandals, the -Scorpions cannot grip a surface of this kind. They flounder against the -panes, it is true, and raise themselves to their full length on the -support of their tail: an excellent buttress, but they have hardly left -the ground before they fall back again, heavily. - -Things go wrong in respect of the wooden uprights, though these are -made as narrow as possible and varnished with particular care. The -stubborn climbers clamber little by little along these smooth tracks; -they halt from time to time, clinging to the greasy pole, and then -resume the difficult ascent. I surprise some who have reached the top -and are on the point of escaping. My tweezers replace them in the fold. -As the ventilation of the home demands that the lid should remain -raised during the greater part of the day, the place would soon be -wholly deserted if I did not see to it. - -I think of greasing the uprights with a mixture of oil and soap. This -restrains the fugitives slightly, without succeeding in stopping them. -Their delicate little claws manage to sink into the pores of the wood -through the substance coating it and the ascent begins anew. Let us try -a non-porous obstacle. I hang the walls with glazed paper. This time -the difficulty is insurmountable for the big, pot-bellied ones; it is -not quite so effective with regard to the others, who, being nimbler in -their gait, try to hoist themselves up and often succeed in doing so. I -get the better of them only by glossing the glazed paper with soot. - -Henceforth there are no more escapes, though attempts at flight -continue. Coming after the experiment with the forcing-frames, these -feats of prowess on slippery surfaces tell us all there is to learn -about an aptitude which the animal’s corpulence was far from leading us -to suspect. Like his black colleague who enters our houses, the -Languedocian Scorpion is a skilled climber. - -Behold me then the owner of three establishments, each possessing its -advantages and its defects: the free colony at the end of the paddock; -the wire-gauze cages in my study; and lastly the glazed rock-garden. I -shall consult them turn and turn about, especially the last. To the -evidence supplied in this manner we will add the rare data gathered -from stones turned over on the original sites. The Scorpions’ luxurious -Crystal Palace, now the leading curiosity of my home, stands all the -year round in the open air, on a bench at a few steps from my door. Not -a member of the family passes it without a glance. Taciturn creatures, -shall I succeed in making you speak? - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: FOOD - - -I begin by learning that, despite his terrible weapon, a likely token -of brigandage and gluttony, the Languedocian Scorpion is an extremely -frugal eater. When I visit him at home, among the pebbles of the -adjacent hills, I carefully ransack his haunts in the hope of coming -upon the remains of an ogre’s feast, and I come upon nothing more than -the crumbs of a hermit’s collation: in fact, as a rule, I find nothing -at all. A few green wing-cases belonging to some Tree bug; wings of the -adult Ant-lion; dismembered segments of a puny Locust: these make up my -list. - -The hamlet in the paddock, assiduously consulted, tells me more. After -the fashion of a valetudinarian who lives on a diet and eats at stated -hours, the Scorpion has his feeding-season. For six or seven months, -from October till April, he does not leave his dwelling, though always -fit and ready to wield his tail. During this period, if I put any sort -of food within his reach, he sweeps it out of the burrow with the back -of his tail and pays it no further attention. - -It is at the end of March that the first cravings of the stomach are -aroused. At this season, on inspecting the cabins, I sometimes find one -or other of my specimens quietly gnawing at a capture, a meagre -Myriapod, such as a Cryptops or Lithobius. For that matter, the -frequency of the item is far from making up for its smallness; and it -is long before the consumer of the scanty morsel finds himself in -possession of a second. - -I expected something better: - -“A brute like that,” I said to myself, “so well armed for battle, -cannot be content with trifles. We do not load our pea-shooters with a -charge of dynamite to bring down a Sparrow: that awful sting was never -meant to stab a humble little animal. The Scorpion’s food must be some -powerful quarry.” - -I was wrong. Terribly equipped for fighting though he be, the Scorpion -is an indifferent hunter. - -He is a poltroon into the bargain. A little Mantis, come into being -that same day and encountered on the road, fills him with dismay. A -Cabbage Butterfly [7] puts him to flight merely by beating the ground -with her clipped wings: the harmless cripple overawes his cowardice. It -needs the stimulus of hunger to persuade him to attack. - -What am I to give him, when his appetite begins to awaken in April? -Like the Spiders, he requires a live prey, seasoned with blood that is -not yet congealed: he requires a morsel quivering in the throes of -death. He never eats a corpse. The game, moreover, must be tender and -of small size. Thinking to give him a treat, in the early days of my -experience as a rearer of Scorpions, I offered him Locusts, picking out -the biggest. He obstinately refused them. They were too tough, and, -besides, too difficult to handle, owing to their kicks, which -demoralize the coward. - -I try the Field Cricket, [8] with a belly as plump and luscious as a -pat of butter. I drop half-a-dozen into the glazed enclosure, with a -leaf of lettuce which will console them for the horrors of the lions’ -den. The singers seem not to heed their terrible neighbours; they sing -their little songs and nibble at their salad. If a strolling Scorpion -appears upon the scene, they look at him: they point their slender -antennæ in his direction, without any other sign of perturbation at the -approach of the passing monster. He, on his side, draws back as soon as -he sees them: he is afraid of getting into trouble with these -strangers. Should he touch one of them with the tip of his pincers, -forthwith he flees, overcome with terror. The six Crickets spend a -month with the wild beasts and none takes note of them. They are too -big, too fat. My six patients are restored to freedom as safe and sound -as when they entered the cage. - -I serve up Woodlice, Glomeres, [9] Iuli, all the rabble of the rocks -beloved of the Scorpion; I make a trial with Asidæ [10] and Opatra -which, assiduous lurkers under the stones in the actual places -frequented by the hunters, might well be the customary game; I offer -Clythra-beetles, [11] gathered on the brushwood beside the burrows, and -Cicindelæ [12] captured on the sand in my guests’ very domain: nothing, -absolutely nothing is accepted, apparently because of the ungrateful -exterior. - -Where shall I find that modest mouthful, at once tender and savoury? -Chance provides me with it. In May I am visited by a Beetle with soft -wing-cases, Omophlus lepturoides, a finger’s-breadth long. He arrived -suddenly in the enclosure in swarms. Around an ilex all yellow with -catkins there is a whirling cloud of Beetles, flying, settling, sipping -sweets and frantically attending to their love-affairs. This life of -revelry lasts a fortnight: then they all disappear in caravans going -one knows not whither. On behalf of my boarders, we will levy on these -nomads, who look to me as though they would be suitable. I was right in -my assumption. After a long, a very long wait, I see the Scorpion make -a meal. Here he comes, stealthily advancing towards the insect -motionless on the ground. He does not hunt his quarry: he gathers it -in. There is neither hurry nor contest, no movement of the tail, no use -of the poisoned weapon. The Scorpion placidly grabs the morsel with his -two-fingered hands; the pincers bend back, carry it to the mouth and -then both hold it until it is all consumed. The insect that is being -eaten, full of life, struggles between the mandibles, to the resentment -of the eater, who likes to nibble quietly. - -Then the dart bends down before the mouth; very gently it pricks the -insect once or twice and paralyses it. The mastication is resumed and -the sting continues to tap, as though the consumer were swallowing the -morsel a forkful at a time. - -At last the insect, patiently chewed and chewed again for hours on end, -has become a dry pellet which the stomach would refuse; but this -residue has entered the gullet so far that the sated Scorpion cannot -always reject it directly. The intervention of the pincers is required -to extricate it. One of them seizes the pill with the finger-tips, -daintily extracts it from the throat and drops it to the ground. The -meal is finished: it will not be repeated for a long time to come. - -A great improvement on the wire-gauze covers, the large glazed cage, -full of animation in the evening twilight, provides me with abundant -information touching this strange frugality. In April and May, -essentially the season of festive assemblies and banquets, I provision -the place lavishly with game. At this time my lilac-walk abounds with -Cabbage Butterflies and Swallowtails. Caught in the net, their wings -partly amputated, a dozen of these Butterflies are let loose in the -establishment, whence their maimed condition will prevent them from -escaping. - -In the evening, at about eight o’clock, the wild beasts leave their -lairs. They stop for a moment on the threshold of their potsherds to -enquire into the state of things; then, gathering from more or less all -directions, they begin to stroll to and fro, with their tails now -uplifted now trailing behind them with the tip always curling upwards. -The mood of the moment and the objects encountered determine the -posture. The discreet light of a lantern hung outside the panes allows -me to watch events. - -The mutilated Butterflies whirl in short flights over the ground. -Through this desperately fluttering mob the Scorpions pass to and fro, -knocking them over and trampling on them, without taking further notice -of them. Sometimes, in the hazards of this scrimmage, one of the -cripples settles on the ogre’s back. He does not mind these -familiarities, makes no protest and carries his unaccustomed rider up -and down. Some of the heedless creatures fling themselves under the -strollers’ pincers; others actually touch the horrible mouth. It makes -no difference: the Scorpions disdain their food. - -A similar experiment is repeated nightly, so long as Pieres abound on -the lilac-bushes. My catering leads to very little. From time to time, -however, I witness a capture. A Butterfly fluttering on the ground is -grabbed by one of the promenaders. The Scorpion quickly snaps her up -without a pause and goes his way, with his pincers still groping and -held before him like a pair of distraught arms. This time, the hands do -not keep the morsel within reach of the mouth, being otherwise occupied -in reconnoitring the path followed: it is the mandibles only that carry -the booty. The Butterfly, eaten alive, desperately flaps what is left -of her wings. She produces the impression of a white plume waving on -the crest of the savage victor. If the captive’s struggles become -excessively inconvenient, the spoiler, still walking along and -munching, quiets her with little pats of his sting. At last he flings -the prize away. What has he eaten? Just the head, no more. - -Less often, others hasten to convey the booty to their lairs beneath -the potsherds. Here the meal will be taken far from the madding crowd. -Others, after securing their capture, withdraw to a corner of the -enclosure and refresh themselves in the open, with their belly on the -sand. - -A week later, after a certain number of these incidents, I inspect the -place and examine the caves one by one, to ascertain the amount of -provisions consumed. The wings, those uneatable leavings, will -enlighten me in this respect. Well, save for rare exceptions, there are -no wings detached from the corpses. Nearly all the Butterflies are -intact; they have dried up without being eaten. A few of them, three or -four, have been decapitated. The results of my conscientious -investigations are limited to this. During a week, in the full swing of -activity, a tiny mouthful has been enough for these head-eaters. There -are twenty-five of them in my establishment, twenty-five sated with a -crumb. - -To them the Butterfly must be an almost unknown fare. It is doubtful -whether, down in their rocky labyrinths, they ever capture such game, -which loves tall blossoms and sinuous flights. Unfamiliar with this -quarry, they may disdain it, merely taking a bite in the absence of -food more to their taste. Now what can they find in their wild, -sun-parched territory? - -Locusts apparently. Crickets, a horde that is never lacking wherever -there is a blade of grass to nibble. It is on these that I rely by -preference when the season of the Pieres and other ordinary Butterflies -closes. The paddock then abounds in Crickets and Locusts, a very -youthful generation, clad only in a short jacket. These are surely the -proper diet for my Scorpions, with their love of tender mouthfuls. Some -are green, others grey; some fat, others thin; some are mounted on -stilts, others are squat and short-shanked. The consumers can make -their choice amid this varied assortment. - -At nightfall, in the area faintly lighted by the lantern, I distribute -my crop of Locusts, who are fairly quiet at this late hour. The -Scorpions lose no time in making their appearance. The living manna is -wriggling all about them. At the least tap, the nearest strollers -decamp; they find things too exciting. It is an exact repetition of the -experiments with the Butterflies: none sets any store by the tit-bits, -most certainly seen and even touched, for the Scorpions often encounter -them and walk on them. - -I see a Locust who, as luck will have it, has got caught in the fingers -of a passing Scorpion; and the latter is too good-natured even to close -his pincers. Ever so gentle a squeeze would put him in possession of an -excellent head of game; and heedlessly he allows it to slip away. I see -a little Green Locust hoisted by accident on the back of a promenader, -a terrible mount that carries her quietly, without dreaming of harming -her. A hundred times I witness face-to-face meetings, defensive -retreats, swishes of the tail that sweep aside the heedless creature -encountered on the highway, but never any serious hand-to-hand -fighting, still less pursuit. It is only at rare intervals that my -daily observations show me one or other of my frugal eaters in -possession of a Locust. - -At pairing-time, in April and May, a sudden change of behaviour turns -the sober Scorpion into a glutton and makes her indulge in scandalous -orgies. At this season I often come upon a Scorpion in the enclosure, -under her tile, devouring one of her own kind in perfect quietude, as -she might devour an ordinary head of game. Everything goes down, -except, as a rule, the tail, which remains hanging for whole days from -the sated creature’s jaws and is finally rejected as though with -regret. It may be presumed that the poison-phial at the end of the -joint has something to do with this refusal. Perhaps the toxic fluid -has a flavour which is unpleasant to the consumer’s taste. - -Apart from this remnant, the devoured Scorpion disappears entirely into -a belly whose capacity seems inferior in bulk to the things swallowed. -It takes a very obliging stomach to find room for such a dish. Before -being chewed and packed away, the contents must be larger than the -container. Now these Gargantuan banquets are not normal reflections but -matrimonial rites, to which we shall have occasion to return. They take -place only in the mating-season: and the animals devoured are always -males. - -I shall not therefore enter these Scorpions who die victims of their -embraces on the list of normal victuals. What we see here is the -aberrations of an animal at rutting-time, wedding-orgies worthy of -figuring beside the tragic nuptials of the Praying Mantis. [13] Nor -shall I enter the feasts provoked by my artifices, when I confront the -Scorpion with a powerful adversary and worry the two combatants in my -eagerness to see the duel. Thus exasperated, the Scorpion defends -himself and stabs; then, in the intoxication of his victory, he eats -the fallen foe, in so far as his swallowing-faculties permit. This is -his manner of celebrating his triumph. Never, but for my intervention, -would he have dared to attack such an enemy; never would he have bitten -into such a bulky prey. - -Apart from these banquets, which are too exceptional to be taken into -account, I note none but frugal collations. My vigilance is perhaps at -fault; it might well be that the consumption is greater at late hours -of the night, in the absence of witnesses; and therefore, before -granting the Scorpion a certificate for extreme moderation in diet, I -appeal to the following experiment, which will give us a definite -reply. - -Early in autumn, four medium-sized specimens are installed separately, -each in a saucer furnished with a layer of fine sand and a potsherd. A -pane of glass closes the receptacle, prevents the escape of the skilful -climbers and allows the sun to enliven the dwelling. Without keeping -out the air, the lid is enough to prevent any small game, such as -Clothes-moths or Mosquitoes, from entering the enclosed space. The four -saucers are deposited in a conservatory where a tropical temperature -holds sway for the greater part of the day. No provisions are served by -me, nor will the least mouthful ever arrive from the outside, unless it -be some vagrom Ant. In this total absence of provisions, what will -become of the interned Scorpions? - -Always brisk and lively without a scrap of food, they go to earth under -the potsherd. They rummage about and dig themselves a burrow closed by -a barrier of sand. From time to time, especially in the evening -twilight, they issue from their lair, take a short stroll and then go -home again, behaving just as though they had been fed. - -When the cold sets in, though it is not freezing in the green-house, -the prisoners no longer leave their home, which has been dug a little -deeper in anticipation of the severe weather. Their health, for that -matter, continues excellent. When I inspect them, as my curiosity often -prompts me to do, I find them always fit and ready to repair the burrow -which I have disturbed. - -Winter ends without mishap. There is nothing unusual in this: the cold -season, while suspending activity, moderates or even does away with the -need for refection. But the heat returns and, with it, the need of -food, which calls for provisions. Now what do the fasters do while -their kinsmen in the glass cage are restoring their strength with -Butterflies and Locusts? Are they languid and anæmic? Not at all. - -Quite as vigorous as those who have been feeding, they brandish their -gnarled tails and reply to my teasing with threatening gestures. If I -worry them too much, they run away quickly along the circumference of -the saucer. Famine does not seem to have tried them. This cannot go on -indefinitely. About the middle of June, three of the captives die; the -fourth holds out till July. It has taken nine months of absolute -abstinence to put an end to their activity. - -Another test is arranged for very young specimens, about a couple of -months old. They measure about an inch in length, from the forehead to -the tip of the tail. Their colouring is brighter than that of the -adults; the pincers in particular look as though they were carved out -of amber and coral. The future horror has his attractive points in -early youth.—I find them under the stones from October onwards. -Invariably solitary like their elders, they dig themselves, under the -chosen shelter, a little hole barricaded by a sandy mound consisting of -the rubbish of the excavations. When taken from their retreat, they run -along nimbly, curving their tails over their backs and brandishing -their fragile stings. - -In October I place four of them in as many tumblers closed with a -muslin veil, an insuperable obstacle to any tiny prey coming from the -outside. The prisoners have for digging purposes a finger’s-breadth of -fine sand and as shelter a small disk of cardboard. Well, these little -fellows undergo abstinence as pluckily as the adults and are still -active and restless in the months of May and June. - -These two experiments prove to us that the Scorpion, while retaining -his activity, is capable of dispensing with food during three fourths -of the year. It must therefore take a long time to make him corpulent. - -A caterpillar that lives only a few days is continually browsing to -accumulate the substance of the future Butterfly; its voracious -appetite makes up for the shortness of the banquet. How does the -Scorpion contrive to hoard so much matter out of crumbs so few and far -between? With him the accumulation of tissue must be the work of -exceptional longevity. - -It is not very difficult to arrive at an approximate estimate of his -length of life. The stones turned over at different periods give us the -answer as clearly as the archives of a record-office would do. I find, -in respect of size, five classes of Scorpions. The smallest measure -two-thirds of an inch in length; the largest four inches. Between these -two extremes, three sizes are quite distinctly discernible. - -Beyond a doubt, each of these categories corresponds with a year’s -difference in age, perhaps even more, for each stage seems to be a -protracted one; at all events the progress in size is hardly -perceptible, at the end of a year, in the specimens in my -rearing-cages. The Languedocian Scorpion therefore boasts the -prerogative of a green old age: he lives five years and probably -longer. He has ample time, as we see, to wax fat on scraps. - -To grow big is not everything: activity is essential. The scraps will -be repeated, it is true, but always so sparingly and at such distant -intervals that we begin to wonder what part eating really plays in this -instance. My prisoners, large and small, subjected to a strict fast, -give especial cause for reflection. Whenever I disturb their repose—and -my curiosity deprives itself of few opportunities—they move about -briskly, brandishing their tails, delving the sand, sweeping it, -shifting it; in short, they expend many kilogram-metres of energy, to -use the technical expression; and this goes on for eight or nine -months. - -In performing this work what do they expend on materials? Nothing. From -the first day of their imprisonment all food is cut off. The thought -occurs to the mind of nutritive reserves, of adipose savings -accumulated in the organism. The animal, according to this, in order to -balance the expenditure of energy, would live upon itself. - -With portly adults the explanation would be valid in a certain measure; -but I have subjected lean specimens, of medium age, to the test; I have -selected young ones, just beginning life. What can these small -Scorpions have in their bellies? What do they possess that can be -transformed into motor energy by vital oxidation? The scalpel cannot -find it and the imagination refuses to appraise it, so great is the -disproportion between the amount of work accomplished and the worker’s -bulk. If the whole animal were before all a combustible and were to -burn to the last atom, the total sum of heat emitted would still be far -from equivalent to the total sum of the mechanical effects. Our -factories cannot keep an engine going, all the year round, with a lump -of coal as its whole provision. - -My Scorpions hardly seem to consume even this lump of fuel. After a -long and rigorous abstinence, they are as fresh and brightly-coloured, -as glossy with health as at the beginning of the experiment. - -We can understand the Snail, sunk in a deep inertia and contracted -within his shell, whose opening he has closed with a chalky lid or a -parchment cover: he no longer eats, but neither does he see; he exists -on his reserves by slowing down his vital processes to the lowest -possible limits. The Scorpion, always moving about, despite the -excessive prolongation of the fast, is beyond our comprehension. - -For the third time in the course of our studies, with reference to the -young first of the Lycosa [14], then of the Clotho Spider [15], and now -of the Scorpion, we are led back to the same suspicion. Is it a fact -that animals of an organization very different from our own, deprived -of an individual temperature determined by an active oxidation, are -governed by biological laws which are immutable in the whole series of -living creatures? Need movement in them be always the result of -combustion for which eating would furnish the materials? Might they not -derive their activity, at least in part, from the circumambient -energies, heat, electricity, light and so on, varying modes of the same -motive power? - -These energies are the soul of the world, the unfathomable vortex which -sets the material universe in motion. Would it then be paradoxical to -picture the animal in certain cases as a highly perfected accumulator, -capable of collecting the circumambient heat, of transmuting it in its -tissues into a mechanical equivalent and of returning it in the form of -motion? This would suggest a possibility that the animal might perform -work in the absence of energizing matter absorbed as food. - -Ah, life made a superb discovery when, in prehistoric times, it -invented the Scorpion! To work without eating: what an incomparable -gift, had it become general! What miseries, what horrors would be -abolished, if we were freed from the tyranny of the stomach! Why was -this wonderful attempt not continued, why was it not perfected in -creatures of a higher order? What a pity that the initial example was -not followed in an ever-increasing progression! Then perhaps to-day, -exempted from the ignominious hunt for food, thought, the loftiest and -most delicate expression of activity, would restore itself after -fatigue with a ray of sunshine. - -Of this gift of yore, full of unrealized promises, certain constituents -have nevertheless been disseminated throughout the animal kingdom. We -ourselves live by solar radiation; we derive part of our energy from -it. The Arab, supporting existence on a handful of dates, is no less -active than the man of the north, gorged with meat and beer; though he -does not fill his stomach so plentifully, he has a bigger share in the -banquet of the sun. - -All things considered then, the Scorpion must derive the main part of -his energizing food from the circumambient warmth. As for the plastic -food indispensable to physical growth, its turn comes, a little sooner -or later, announced by a moult. The stiff tunic splits along the back; -the animal slips gently out of its cast clothes, which have become too -tight. Then comes the imperious call for food, were it only to make -good the cost of the new skin. Henceforth, if the fast continues, my -prisoners, especially the smaller ones, die before long. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: THE POISON - - -In attacking small game, his usual fare, the Scorpion hardly uses his -weapon. He seizes the insect with his two pincers and thus holds it the -whole time within reach of his mouth, which nibbles slowly. Sometimes, -if the victim struggles and disturbs the repast, the tail comes curving -down and, with a series of little taps, deprives the patient of the -power of movement. When all is said, the sting plays but a very -subordinate part in the acquisition of food. - -It is really of no use to the animal except in a moment of danger, face -to face with an enemy. I do not know against what foes the formidable -beast may have to defend itself. Who among the frequenters of the stony -wastes would venture to attack it? Though I do not know on what -occasions, in the normal course of things, the Scorpion is obliged to -take measures of defence. I can at least resort to artifice and arrange -encounters which will force him to fight in grim earnest. To judge of -the violence of his poison, I propose to place him in the presence of -various powerful foes, without leaving the domain of entomology. - -A Languedocian Scorpion and a Narbonne Lycosa are put into a large jar, -with a layer of sand at the bottom, which affords a less slippery -foothold than the glass. The two are similarly equipped with poisonous -fangs. Which of the two will gain the upper hand and eat the other? -While the Lycosa is the less powerful, she has the advantage of -agility, which enables her to leap on her adversary and attack him -unexpectedly. Before the defender, who is slow in countering, is able -to adopt the fighting attitude, the other will deliver her stroke and -flee before the brandished sting. The chances would seem to favour the -active Spider. - -The events do not correspond with these probabilities. So soon as she -perceives the enemy, the Lycosa stands half-erect, opens her fangs, on -which a drop of poison is gathering, and boldly waits. The Scorpion -approaches with short steps, extending his pincers in front of him. -With his two-fingered hands he seizes and holds the Spider, who -protests desperately, opening and closing her fangs without being able -to bite, kept as she is at a distance. The struggle becomes impossible -with such an adversary, armed with long pincers which hold the foe -helpless at arm’s length and prevent her approach. - -Without any sort of contest, therefore, the Scorpion curves his tail, -brings it down in front of his forehead and drives the sting, entirely -at his ease, into the victim’s black breast. This is not the -instantaneous thrust of the Wasps and the other four-winged fighters: -to make the weapon penetrate requires a certain effort. The knotted -tail pushes, swaying slightly: it turns the sting to and fro as we -twist a pointed tool with our fingers to make it enter a hard -substance. When the hole is made, the sting lingers in the wound for a -moment, doubtless to allow time for a larger dose of virus to escape. -The result is overwhelming. No sooner is the sturdy Lycosa stung than -she draws up her legs. She is dead. - -I have treated myself to this stirring spectacle with half-a-dozen -victims. What the first experiment showed me the others repeated. There -is always the instant attack by the Scorpion the moment he sees the -Lycosa, always the tactics of the tongs holding the enemy at a -distance, always the sudden death of the spitted Spider. If I crushed -the animal underfoot, the inertia produced would be no more immediate. -It is as though the Lycosa had been struck dead by lightning. - -To eat the vanquished enemy is the rule, all the more inasmuch as the -plump Spider is a magnificent prey, such as but rarely falls to the -Scorpion’s lot in his usual hunting-grounds. Then and there, without -delay, he sits down to his meal, commencing with the head, his -customary routine with any sort of game. Motionless, he crunches and -swallows, in tiny mouthfuls. Everything is consumed, excepting a few -joints of the legs, which are tough morsels. The Gargantuan feast lasts -for twenty-four hours. - -When the banquet is over, we wonder how the dish has managed to -disappear into a belly hardly larger than the thing eaten. Those who -are exposed to interminable fasts, and are compelled to gorge -themselves to excess when the occasion offers, must have special -digestive powers. - -If the Scorpion attacks the Lycosa, who would be capable of making a -serious defence were she to rush upon the enemy, instead of proudly -standing with her breast uncovered, what will be the fate of the meek -Epeiræ? [16] All, even the largest, the Angular, the Banded, and the -Silky Epeira, are fiercely attacked, all the more since these poor -spinners, demoralized by fear, do not even try to fling their hanks of -cord, which so promptly paralyse the assailant. In their webs, with a -lavish discharge of snares, they would master the ferocious Mantis, -[17] the formidable Hornet, or the big Locust, that expert kicker. Away -from their own homes, faced by an enemy and not a victim, they utterly -forget their potent methods of binding the foe. When stung, they all -instantly succumb, struck dead like the Lycosa; and the Scorpion feasts -upon them. - -Under the stone, the Spider-lover never meets the Lycosa or the Epeiræ, -who frequent other regions; but he may, at long intervals, find other -Spiders, addicted like himself to sheltering in rocky refuges, and -notably the timid Clotho. [18] He is therefore pretty familiar with -this sort of game, and any fair-sized Spider suits him, provided that -he be hungry. - -I suspect him of being by no means indifferent to the capture of a -Praying Mantis, another highly meritorious dish. Certainly he does not -go in search of her on the bushes, the usual resort of this ravenous -insect: his means of climbing, which are excellently adapted to scaling -a wall, would never permit him to walk on the wavering support of the -leaves. He must strike when the mother is pregnant, towards the end of -the summer. As a matter of fact, I fairly often find the nest of the -Praying Mantis fastened to the lower surface of the lumps of stone -haunted by the Scorpion. - -The highwayman may make his approach, in quest of victuals, on a -peaceful night, just when the labouring mother is whipping the froth of -her egg-filled casket. [19] What happens then I have never witnessed; -probably I never shall: it would be asking too much of luck. Let us -fill the gap by artificial means. - -In the cock-pit of an earthenware dish, I provoke a duel between a -Scorpion and a Mantis, both selected of a good size. If necessary, I -stimulate them, urge them to the encounter. I already know that not all -the blows of the tail take effect: very often they are mere raps on the -head. Sparing of his poison and scorning to sting when there is no -pressing need, the Scorpion repels the intruder with a sudden back -stroke of the tail, without using the needle. In our various -experiments we will count only the blows which draw blood in proof that -the sting has penetrated. - -When seized with the tweezers, the Mantis instantly adopts the spectral -attitude, [20] with the saw-toothed legs open and the wings displayed -like an heraldic crest. This scare-crow attitude, so far from -succeeding, makes the attack all the easier: the sting plunges into the -base, between the two lethal limbs, and lingers for some time in the -wound. When it is withdrawn, there is still a drop of poison oozing at -the tip. - -Then and there the Mantis draws up her legs in the throes of death. The -belly heaves, the caudal appendages wave by fits and starts, the tarsi -give faint quivers. On the other hand, the lethal legs, the antennæ, -and the mouth-parts are motionless. This condition is followed, in less -than fifteen minutes, by complete inertia. - -The Scorpion does not think out his blows; he strikes at random any -point within reach. This time he has stabbed a part which is eminently -vulnerable, because of the proximity of the principal nerve-centres; he -has stung the Mantis in the breast, between the lethal legs, precisely -where the Mantis-killing Tachytes [21] wounds her victim with the -object of paralysing it. The act is fortuitous and not intentional: the -lout is not an expert anatomist like the Wasp. As luck would have it, -death was instantaneous. What would happen if the sting were delivered -in another, less dangerous part of the body? - -I change the operator, to make sure that the poison-phial is charged. I -shall take the same precaution in the various subsequent encounters: -each fresh victim will have a fresh executioner, whose full powers have -been restored by a long rest. - -The Mantis, another powerful matron, stands half-erect, turns her head -[22] and looks at him warily over her shoulder. She assumes her -spectral attitude, with puffing sounds produced by rubbing the wings -together. Her boldness at first succeeds: she manages to seize her -adversary’s tail with her toothed fore-arms. As long as she holds -tight, the Scorpion is disarmed and unable to hurt her. - -But fatigue supervenes, enhanced by terror. The Mantis had seized the -tail brandished in front of her as she might have harpooned any other -part of the body, without doubting the efficiency of her manœuvre. The -poor simpleton opens her trap. She is lost. The Scorpion stings her in -the abdomen, not far from the third pair of legs. Complete collapse -ensues, like that of a piece of clockwork whose mainspring is broken. - -It is not in my power to obtain stings at this or that point as I -choose: the irascible Scorpion does not lend himself to the liberty of -attempting to guide his weapon. I make the most of the various -instances that occur in the hazards of the contest. Some of them are -worth recording, because of the great distance from the centres of -innervation. - -This time the Mantis is stung on one of the lethal limbs, in the -fine-skinned joint of the arm and fore-arm. This results in immediate -inertia of the limb affected and soon after of the second. The other -legs curl up: there are pulsations of the abdomen; and absolute -immobility quickly follows. Death is almost instantaneous. - -Another is stung in the joint between the shank and the thigh of one of -the middle legs. Suddenly the four hind-legs fold back; the wings which -the insect had not outspread at the moment of the attack, are unfurled -convulsively, as in the spectral attitude, and remain outspread even -after death. The murderous legs flounder about in disorder: they -clutch, they open, they close again; the antennæ move, the palpi -tremble, the abdomen throbs, the caudal appendages wave to and fro. -Another fifteen minutes of this tumultuous death-struggle: and all is -still; the Mantis is no more. - -And so in all the instances in which my curiosity, greatly excited by -the stirring aspect of the tragedy, indulges whatever the point -attacked, whether near the nerve-centres or farther away, the Mantis -always succumbs, sometimes instantly, sometimes after a few minutes’ -convulsions. Rattlesnakes, Vipers, Puff-adders and other venomous -Snakes of dreadful renown do not kill their victims more promptly. - -At first I regarded this as due to a highly-strung organism, which is -all the more sensitive and vulnerable because it is better equipped. -Picked creatures both, said I to myself, the Spider and the Mantis die -instantaneously from an injury which a ruder creature would endure for -hours and days, perhaps even without any great inconvenience. Let us -then try the Mole-cricket, the detested Taiocebo of the Provençal -gardener. A strange beast indeed is this root-cutter; powerful, too, -clumsy and of a lower type. When you grip it firmly in your hand, it -makes you let go by digging into your skin with the toothed toes of its -hind-legs, copied from the Mole’s. - -When brought into contact in a narrow arena, Scorpion and Mole-cricket -look each other in the face and seem to recognize each other. Can there -have been encounters between them from time to time? It is very -doubtful. The Mole-cricket is an inmate of our gardens, of rich soil in -which green vegetables convoke underground vermin; the Scorpion is -faithful to the sun-scorched slopes on which dry grasses find it -difficult to grow. Meetings are hardly probable between the inhabitants -of barren and of fruitful soil. - -Though unknown to each other, they none the less realize the gravity of -the danger confronting them. With no provocation from me, the Scorpion -rushes at the Mole-cricket, who, for her part, assumes an aggressive -posture, with her shears ready to disembowel her foe. Rubbing her upper -wings together, she entones a sort of war-song, a dull buzzing. The -Scorpion does not leave her time to finish her ditty; he brings his -tail into play. The Mole-cricket’s thorax bears a stout, arched cuirass -encasing the back. To the rear of this impenetrable armour there is a -deep crease, covered with fine skin. It is here that the sting enters. -Forthwith, without more ado, the monster is overthrown; she collapses, -as though struck by lightning. - -Disorderly movements follow. The digging-legs are paralysed; they no -longer grip at the straw which I hold out to them. The others thresh to -and fro, stretch out and flex themselves again; the four palpi with the -large, fleshy tufts meet in a bunch, separate, come together again and -pat the object which I place within their reach; the antennæ wave -feebly; the belly throbs with deep pulsations. Gradually, these -death-throes decrease in violence. At length, in a couple of hours’ -time, the tarsi, the last to die, cease quivering. The clumsy creature -has succumbed no less completely than the Lycosa and the Mantis, but -after a longer death-struggle. - -It remains to be ascertained whether the stab under the armour of the -thorax does not possess a special efficiency, because of the proximity -of the nerve-centres. I repeat the experiment with other patients and -other operators. Sometimes the sting enters the chink in the armour; -more often it touches some part of the abdomen. In this case, even -though the stab is delivered at the extreme tip, the result is always -sudden death. The only perceptible difference is that, instead of being -instantly paralyzed, the digging-legs continue for some time to -struggle like the rest. When struck by the Scorpion in any part -whatever, the Mole-cricket therefore is always mortally wounded; the -powerful insect gives up the ghost after a few convulsive struggles. - -Now comes the turn of the Grey Locust, [23] the largest and most active -of our Acridians. The Scorpion appears perturbed by the proximity of -this turbulent kicker. The Locust, on her side, would be only too well -pleased to get away. She hops and bumps against the pane of glass with -which I have covered the arena to prevent escape. From time to time she -drops on the back of the Scorpion, who flees to avoid this sudden fall. -At last, losing patience, the runaway stings the Locust in the belly. - -The shock must be of extraordinary violence, for one of the -big-haunched legs immediately falls off, through one of those -spontaneous disarticulations to which Locusts and Grasshoppers are -addicted at desperate moments. The other is paralyzed. Stretched -straight out and up, it is no longer able to obtain a purchase on the -ground. The Locust’s hopping-days are over. Meanwhile, the four front -legs make disorderly movements and are incapable of progression. When -laid on its side, the insect nevertheless turns over and resumes the -normal position, all but the large hind-leg, which is still impotent -and sticking into the air. - -Fifteen minutes pass; and the insect falls, never to rise again. The -spasms, the stretching of the legs, the quivering of the tarsi, the -waving of the antennæ continue for a long time yet. This condition, -becoming more and more aggravated, may last till next day; but -sometimes the inertia is complete in less than an hour. - -Another powerful Acridian, the Tryxalis [24], with the immensely long -shanks and the sugar-loaf head, ends like the Locust: her death-agony -lasts some hours. Among the sword-bearers, the Grasshoppers, I have -seen this gradual paralysis, which is not yet death, but which is no -longer life, prolonged for a week. This time the subject is the Vine -Ephippiger. [25] - -The pot-bellied creature has been stung in the abdomen. There are cries -of distress from the cymbals at the moment of the wound; and the insect -falls on its side, with all the appearances of imminent death. -Nevertheless the wounded Ephippiger makes a fight for it. At the end of -two days, she is kicking so hard with her ataxic legs, incapable of -locomotion, that the idea occurs to me to come to her assistance and -doctor her up a little. I administer as a cordial, on the tip of a -straw, some grape-juice, which is readily accepted. - -It seems as though the draught is effectual; the insect appears to be -recovering. Nothing of the sort, alas! On the seventh day after the -sting, the patient dies. The Scorpion’s sting is inexorable, for any -insect, even of the strongest. One dies on the spot; another lingers -for days; but all succumb in the end. Even though my Ephippiger were to -survive for a week, I should know better than to ascribe this to my -doctoring with grape-juice: the Grasshopper’s long resistance must be -attributed to her temperament. - -We must consider above all things the gravity of the wound, which -varies greatly according to the dose of poison injected. It is not in -my power to regulate its emission: besides, the Scorpion is freakish in -the flow of the poison from his phial: in one case he is stingy, and in -another prodigal. For this reason the discrepancy is great between the -data furnished by the Ephippiger. My notes speak of subjects succumbing -after a brief interval, whereas others, more numerous, take a long time -to die. - -Generally, the Grasshoppers resist better than the Locusts. The -Ephippiger bears witness to this and, next to her, so does the -White-faced Decticus, [26] the chief of the sword-bearing clan. The -insect with the large mandibles and the ivory head is stabbed near the -middle of the abdomen, on the dorsal surface. The wounded Decticus, -apparently not gravely injured, walks about and tries to hop. Half an -hour later, however, the poison is working. The abdomen is convulsed, -curves into a wide hook and, with its open gap, incapable of closing, -plows through the rough surface of the soil. The proud creature has -become a pitiful cripple. Six hours later, the insect is lying on its -side. It exhausts itself in unsuccessful attempts to rise on its feet. -Little by little, the crisis subsides. On the second day, the Decticus -is dead, really dead: not a limb stirs. - -Late in the afternoon, the great black-and-yellow Dragon-fly flies to -and fro in a straight line, swiftly and silently, along the hedges. She -is the corsair who levies tribute on all who navigate those peaceful -waters. Her ardent life, her fiery activity point to a more delicate -nervous system than that of the Locust, the placid ruminant of the -pastures. And in fact, when stung by the Scorpion, she dies almost as -quickly as the Praying Mantis. - -The Cicada, [27] another spendthrift of energy, who from morning till -night, in the dog-days, never ceases singing by jerking his abdomen up -and down, beating time to the cadence of his cymbals, likewise dies -very speedily. Talents have to be paid for: where the dull-witted hold -out, the gifted succumb. - -The large Beetles, in their horny armour, are invulnerable. Never will -the Scorpion, a clumsy fencer who lunges at random, find the narrow -joints in their breast-plates. As for piercing the hard wrapper at some -spot or another, this would need a protracted effort, which the patient -would hardly permit in the scuffle of his defence. Besides, these -boring-tactics are unknown to the brutal Scorpion, who delivers a -sudden stab. - -One region alone lends itself to the sudden onslaught of the sting. -This is the upper surface of the abdomen, which is quite soft and -protected by the wing-cases. I uncover this region by holding up the -wings and wing-cases with a pair of tweezers; or again I first remove -both with the scissors. This mutilation is not a serious matter and -would not prevent the patient from surviving quite a long time. The -insect is presented to the Scorpion in this condition. It is chosen -among the largest, Oryctes, [28] Capricorn, [29] Scarab, [30] Carabus, -[31] Cetonia, [32] Cockchafer, [33] Geotrupes. [34] - -All perish by the sting, but the length of the death-struggle varies -very greatly. To give a few examples: after convulsive stretching of -the limbs, the Scarab Beetle hoists himself on his legs as high as he -can, hunches his back and marks time, for lack of co-ordination in the -locomotor mechanism. He capsizes, incapable of recovering his footing; -he kicks wildly. At length, in a few hours, immobility sets in; the -insect is dead. - -The Capricorns, Cerambyx heros, who lives in the oak, and C. cerdo, who -lives in the hawthorn and the cherry-laurel, begin in the same way with -a sort of cataleptic fit which sometimes lasts for a fairly long time. -To some of them death does not come until the next day; others are -unable to hold out for more than three or four hours. - -The result is the same with the Cetonia or Rose-chafer, the Common -Cockchafer, and the magnificently antlered Pine-chafer. [35] - -A pitiful sight is that of the Golden Carabus, or Gold Beetle, [36] -dying of the sting. Unable to stand on its legs convulsively extended -into stilts, the insect tumbles over, picks itself up again, again -falls down and again hoists itself to its feet, only to fall once more. -The tip of the intestine, with its horny armour, sticks out and swells -as though the creature were about to discharge its entrails; the crop -belches a black torrent that swamps the head; the golden wing-cases, -lifting their cuirass, reveal the poor nudities of the abdomen. Next -morning, the tarsi are still quivering. Death is not far off. The -swarthy Procrustes, the Gold Beetles’s near kinsman, comes to his end -in the same wretched fashion. To him we shall return. - -Would you, on the other hand, see a stoic, who knows how to die -decently? Make the Scorpion sting Oryctes nasicornis, commonly known as -the Rhinoceros. None of our beetles equals him for hardy bearing. -Despite the horn on his nose, he is a peace-lover, dwelling, during his -larval period, in old olive-stumps. When stabbed by the Scorpion, he -seems at first to feel nothing. He walks about soberly, as usual, and -keeps his balance. - -But suddenly the atrocious poison works. The legs no longer obey with -their customary accuracy; the wounded Beetle staggers and falls on his -back. He will never rise again. Lying in this posture for three or four -days, with no struggle beyond some vague dying movements, he very -quietly gives up the ghost. - -How do the Moths and Butterflies behave in their turn? These delicate -creatures must be very sensitive to the sting; I am persuaded of it -before I put them to the test. Nevertheless, as scrupulous observers, -let us experiment. A Swallowtail and a Vulcan perish the moment they -are stung. I expected it. The Spurge Hawk-moth and the Striped -Hawk-moth offer no more resistance: they too suffer sudden death, just -like the Dragon-fly, the Lycosa and the Mantis. - -But, to my great surprise, the Great Peacock Moth seems invulnerable. -True, the attack is difficult to deliver. The sting goes astray in the -soft down, which at each stroke flies away in flocks. Despite repeated -blows, I am not sure whether the sting has actually struck home. I -accordingly strip the abdomen laying bare the skin. After taking this -precaution, I plainly see the weapon driven in. Penetration is now -indubitable; it was preceded by other, more doubtful stabs; and yet the -big Moth remains impassive. - -I place her under a wire-gauze cover standing on the table. She grips -the trellis-work and remains there all day long without moving. The -wings, outspread to their full width, give not a quiver. Next morning -there is no change: the victim of the operation is still hanging to the -wires by the hooks of her front tarsi. I remove her and lay her on the -table, with her belly uppermost. The big body shakes with rapid -tremors. Is this the end? - -Not at all. The apparently dying Moth revives, flaps her wings and with -a sudden effort, recovers her feet. She climbs up the trellis and again -hangs from it. In the afternoon, I lay her on her back for the second -time. The wings are actuated by a gentle movement, almost a shudder, as -a result of which the prostrate insect glides over the table. It climbs -up the trellis again and all movement ceases. - -Let us leave the poor Moth in peace: when she is really no more, she -will drop off. Well, the fall does not take place until the fourth day -after the sting or stings. Life is exhausted. The deceased is a female. -The force of maternity, stronger than any mortal terror, postpones -death’s hour: the Moth laid her eggs before she died. - -Should we entertain the very natural thought of attributing this long -resistance to the colossus’ powerful constitution, the frail product of -our Silkworm nurseries, the Mulberry Bombyx, would tell us that we must -seek the cause elsewhere. He, the infirm dwarf who has just the -strength to beat his wings and flutter round his female, offers no less -resistance to the sting than the Great Peacock. The reason for this -passivity is probably as follows: - -The Great Peacock and the Mulberry-moth are incomplete entities, very -different from the Hawk-moth, that ardent explorer of corollas in the -gloaming, and the Swallowtail Butterfly and the Mulberry-moth, those -untiring pilgrims to the chapel of flowers. They have no mouth -implements; they take no nourishment. Deprived of the stimulus of food, -they live but a few days, long enough to lay fertile eggs. This -diminished vitality must go with a no less delicate and consequently -less fragile organism. - -Let us descend a few steps in the series of the segmented animals and -question the uncouth Millipede. The Scorpion knows him. The colony in -the enclosure has shown me the Scorpion feeding on the Cryptops and the -Lithobius, the result of his hunting. These to him are harmless -mouthfuls, incapable of defence. I propose to-day to place him in touch -with the Great Centipede known as the Scolopendra (Smorsitans), the -mightiest of our Myriapods. - -The dragon with the twenty-two pairs of legs is no stranger to him. I -have sometimes found the two together under the same stone. The -Scorpion was at home; the other roaming about at night, had taken -temporary shelter there. No regrettable incident had ensued from their -cohabitation. Is this always so? We shall see. - -I confront the two horrors with each other in a large glass jar -containing sand. The Centipede goes round and round, hugging the wall -of the arena. He is an undulating ribbon, a finger’s breadth wide, four -or five inches long and ringed with greenish rings on an amber-coloured -ground. The long, vibrating antennæ sound the space before him; their -tips, sensitive as a finger, encounter the motionless Scorpion. The -startled animal instantly turns tail. His circuit brings him back to -the foe. There is a fresh contact, followed by a fresh flight. - -But the Scorpion is now on his guard, with his arched tail advanced and -his pincers open. When the Centipede returns to the dangerous point of -his circular track, he is seized with the claws, in the neighbourhood -of the head. In vain does the long, flexible animal twine and twist; -imperturbably, the Scorpion grips it more firmly than ever with his -pincers; and no jerks, windings or unwindings succeed in making him let -go. - -Meanwhile the sting is at work. Three and four times over it is driven -into the sides of the Myriapod, who, for his part, opens wide his -poison-fangs and strives to bite, without succeeding in doing so, for -the front part of his body is held in the stubborn pincers. The hinder -part alone struggles and wriggles, coils and uncoils. These efforts are -useless. Kept at a distance by the long tongs, the Scolopendra’s -poisoned fangs are unable to act. I have seen many insect battles; I -know none more horrible than that between these two monstrosities. It -is enough to make your flesh creep. - -A lull enables me to part the combatants and isolate them. The -Centipede licks his bleeding wounds and recovers his strength in a few -hours. As for the Scorpion, he has suffered no damage. Next day, a -fresh assault is delivered. Three times in succession the Myriapod is -stabbed, till the blood flows. Then, fearing reprisals, the Scorpion -withdraws, as though frightened by his victory. The wounded animal does -not strike back and continues its circular flight. This is enough for -to-day. I surround the jar with a cardboard cylinder. When darkness is -thus produced, they will both keep quiet. - -What happens afterwards, especially at night, I do not know. Probably -the battle begins all over again and further thrusts of the sting are -delivered. At any rate the Centipede is much weaker on the third day. -On the fourth, he is dying. The Scorpion watches him without yet daring -to devour him. At last, when there is no more movement, the huge quarry -is cut up; the head and then the first two segments are eaten. The dish -is too copious; the remainder will go bad and be wasted. His exclusive -taste for fresh meat will prevent the Scorpion from touching it. - -Though stung seven times and oftener, the Centipede does not die until -the fourth day; stung once only, the powerful Lycosa perishes that very -instant. Death comes almost as quickly to the Praying Mantis, the -Sacred Beetle, the Mole-cricket and other hardy specimens which, if -impaled by the collector, would kick and struggle for weeks on the cork -slab. Any insect stabbed by the sting finds itself forthwith in a -parlous plight; the longest-lived are dead within twenty-four hours; -and here we have the Centipedes, pinked seven times over, holding out -for four days and perhaps dying from loss of blood as much as from the -effects of the poison. - -Why these points of difference? Apparently they are a matter of -organisation. Life is an equilibrium whose stability varies according -to the position in the hierarchy. At the top of the ladder, a fall is -easy; at the bottom, there is a firm foothold. The finely-organised -insect succumbs, whereas the coarser Millipede resists. Is this really -the explanation? The Mole-cricket leaves us undecided. He, the boor, -perishes just as quickly as do those refined creatures, the Butterfly -and the Mantis. No, we do not yet know the secret which the Scorpion -conceals in the phial at the end of his tail. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: THE IMMUNITY OF LARVÆ - - -So little do we possess the Scorpion’s secret that unexpected facts -crop up that strangely complicate the problem. The study of life brings -us these surprises. Repeated experiments, with mutually consistent -results, seem to justify our formulation of a rule when, suddenly, -important exceptions arise, compelling us to follow a fresh path, -directly opposed to the first, and leading us to doubt which is the -last stage on the road to knowledge. After labouring long and -patiently, like an ox yoked to the plow, we have to plant a note of -interrogation at the end of the field which we thought that we had made -ready for sowing, without any hope of a final answer. One question -leads to another. - -To-day the Cetonia-larvæ have forced upon me a similar change of -opinion. It was at the end of November, late in the year, when the -adult insect was becoming scarce. At this season of dearth, for lack of -anything better wherewith to continue my experiments, I thought of -resorting to the grubs of the Cetonia, grubs which abound all the year -through in a heap of dead leaves in a corner of the enclosure. The -naturalist who questions animals is necessarily a torturer: there is no -other means of making them speak. A host of questions therefore sends -my curiosity rummaging, as a regular thing, in that heap of leaf-mould. -Every physiological laboratory has its appointed victims: the Frog, the -Guinea-pig, even the Dog. The Cetonia-larva suffices for my rustic -work-shop. I add the humble grub to the noble series of victims of -whose suffering our knowledge is born. - -The advanced and already cold season has not slackened the Scorpion’s -activity; the fat grub, on its part, in the warm moisture of the -decayed leaves, has retained all the suppleness of its back. Both are -in perfect condition. I bring them face to face. - -The attack is not spontaneous. The larva flees obstinately, turned over -on its back, skirting the wall of the cage. The Scorpion remains -motionless and looks on; he draws to one side and makes way when the -circular track brings the creature in his direction. It is not a prey -to his liking, still less a dangerous adversary; and killing merely for -killing’s sake is not one of his vices. If I did not interfere, the -peaceful encounter might continue indefinitely. - -I worry the two of them, bring them into contact, irritate them with a -bit of a straw, to such good purposes that my devices look like an -attack on the part of the grub. The poor topsy-turvy creature is -certainly not dreaming of fighting; it is a natural coward which, when -in danger, curls up and refuses to move. Unaware of my tricks with the -straw, the Scorpion ascribes to his innocent neighbour the annoyance of -which I alone am the cause. He waves his sting on high and stabs. The -blow has struck home, for the wound bleeds. - -Relying on what the adult Cetonia showed me, I expect to see -convulsions, the preludes of death. But what is this? When left to -itself, the grub uncoils itself and makes off; it travels on its back -neither faster nor slower than usual, as though it had not been -wounded. Laid on the heap of leaf-mould, it swiftly dives down, without -appearing in the least injured. I go to look at it a couple of hours -later. It is as vigorous as before the experiment. Its state of health -is the same the next day. What are we to make of this rebel? In its -adult form, it would have dropped dead; in its larval form, it is -indomitable. The wound was deep, since it bleeds, but perhaps the sting -omitted to inject any poison, in which case it is a harmless prick, a -negligible accident for the sturdy grub. We must try again. - -The same subject is stung a second time, by another Scorpion. The -result agrees with the first. The wounded grub ambles along on its back -entirely at its ease; it dips down into the layer of rotten leaves and -quietly resumes eating. The poisoned stab has not affected it. - -This immunity cannot be an exceptional instance; there are no -privileged individuals among the Cetoniæ; any other subject of the same -species ought to prove equally refractory. I unearth twelve larvæ and -have them stung, some of them twice or thrice in quick succession. All -wriggle a little at the moment when the dirk enters; all lick the -bleeding spot if they can reach it with their mouth and then quietly -recover from their excitement. They amble along, with their legs in the -air; they burrow down into the heart of the leaf-mould. I inspect them -next day, the day after and the following days. The poison does not -seem to have endangered them in any way. - -They look so fit that I conceive a hope of rearing them. In this I -succeed to perfection, without further trouble than that of renewing -from time to time the provision of rotten leaves. The following year, -in June, the twelve that have been subjected to the atrocious sting -weave their cocoons and undergo metamorphosis. The Scorpion’s stab has -caused them no worse damage than a slight itching at the moment when -the sting entered the belly. - -This curious result reminds me of what Lenz tells us on the subject of -the Hedgehog: - -“I had a mother Hedgehog,” he writes, “who was suckling her young. I -threw a large Viper into her box. The Hedgehog soon felt that he was -there, for she is guided by the sense of smell and not of sight. She -got up, went fearlessly to the Snake and sniffed at him from head to -foot, especially about the mouth. The Viper hissed and bit her several -times on the snout and lips. As though to make fun of her feeble -assailant, she contented herself with licking her wounds, continued her -inspection and was once more bitten, but this time in the tongue. At -last, she seized the Viper by the head, which she crunched between her -jaws, together with the poison-fangs and glands. Then she devoured half -the reptile, after which she returned to lie down beside her young and -give them to suck. That evening she ate another Viper and what remained -of the first. Her health was not affected thereby, nor was that of the -little Hedgehogs; her wounds did not even swell. - -“Two days later, there was a new Viper and a new fight. The Hedgehog -went up to the reptile and smelt it. Opening her jaws and erecting her -poison-fangs, the Viper rushed upon her, bit her in the upper lip and -remained hanging there for a time. The Hedgehog shook him off and, -though bitten ten times in the muzzle and twenty times elsewhere, -amidst the prickles, she seized him by the head and devoured him -slowly, notwithstanding his contortions. This time again neither the -mother nor the sucklings seemed unwell.” - - - -It is said that Mithridates, King of Pontus, to fortify his -constitution against the dangerous potions with which his enemies -attempted to destroy him, accustomed himself to different poisons. By -degrees he inured his stomach against venom. Can the Hedgehog, that new -Mithridates, in her quality as a Snake-eater, have acquired her -immunity by gradual use and wont? Or is it not rather in her case, an -original aptitude? When for the first time she bit into the reptile’s -head, did she not already possess the predisposition necessary to her -safety? - -She did, the Cetonia-larva tells us for our answer. If any members of -the insect clan has to provide itself with defensive means against the -Scorpion’s attacks, it is certainly not the grub that dwells amid -vegetable decay. The two do not frequent the same places, which makes -meetings almost impossible. On the larva’s part, therefore, there is no -increasing tolerance of the poison. The first to find themselves in the -Scorpion’s presence are perhaps those which I myself place there. -Nevertheless, without preparations of any kind, behold the grub -refractory to the sting. It possesses, from the first, powers of -resistance to the poison which is quite as surprising as that of the -reptile-eater. - -That the Hedgehog, the appointed exterminator of Vipers, should be -endowed with the prerogatives essential to her calling is strictly -logical. In the same way, the Bee-eater, the handsomest bird of -Mediterranean provinces, crams his crop with impunity with live Wasps; -in the same way, the Cuckoo suffers from no irritation when he fills -his stomach with a barbed wire entanglement of stinging hairs from the -Processionary Caterpillar. [37] The function exercised will have it so. - -But why need the larva of the Cetonia safeguard itself against the -Scorpion, whom she probably never meets? We dare not believe in -privileges; rather do we suspect a general aptitude. The Cetonia-larva -resists the Scorpion’s sting, not as a Cetonia, but as a grub, a -preparatory phase on the way to a higher organization. If so, all the -larvæ, in a greater or lesser degree, according to their robustness, -must possess similar powers of resistance. - -What does experiment say on the subject? It behooves us to exempt from -the test the weaker grubs, of a delicate constitution. To them a mere -prick, without the aid of the poison, would mean a serious and often -fatal wound. The point of a needle would gravely injure them. What -would it be with the brutal stiletto, even though not poisoned? What we -need is a few corpulent grubs which would think little of a perforated -belly. - -And here I have the very thing I want. An old olive-stump softened -underground by decay, provides me with the larva of the Rhinoceros -Beetle. It is a plump sausage, as thick as a man’s thumb. When stung by -the Scorpion, the paunchy grub glides among the scraps of decayed -olive-wood with which I have furnished a glass jar; heedless of its -mishap, it works its jaws so lustily that, eight months later, having -thrived and waxed fat, it is preparing its cell for the metamorphosis. -It has passed through the dreadful ordeal unscathed. - -As for the adult insect, we have already seen what it does. Stung on -the upper surface of the abdomen, under the lifted wing-cases, the -colossus soon topples over and feebly kicks its legs about in the air. -All movement ceases in three or four days at most. The powerful -creature dies; its grub loses nothing in either strength or appetite. - -This instance of correct prevision on my part is confirmed by a number -of others. In front of my door are two old cherry-laurels, -magnificently green at all times of the year. A Capricorn is ruining -them for me. This is the little Cerambyx cerdo, the usual inhabitant of -the hawthorn. The aroma of prussic acid, instead of repelling him, -attracts him; the horned dandy is well acquainted with it, thanks to -his long experience of the clusters of the hawthorn-blossoms with their -searching smell. This alien tree suits him so well for establishing his -family that the axe will have to intervene if I want to save what -remains. - -I cut down the boughs that have suffered most damage. From one limb -split into fragments I obtain a dozen of the Capricorn’s larvæ. My -inspection of the neighbouring hedge-rows provides me with the perfect -insect. And now we’ll have it out together, O destroyer of my leafy -arbour! You shall make amends to me for your misdeeds; you shall die by -the Scorpion. - -The adults indeed succumb; but the larvæ resist. Lodged in a glass jar, -with tiny morsels of the demolished tree, they quietly resume their -gnawing. If the provisions do not dry up, the grubs wounded by the -Scorpion complete their larval life without accident. - -The Capricorn of the Oak, Cerambyx heros, behaves in a like fashion. -The great horn-wearer perishes; his grub does not mind the sting a jot, -for, when restored to its place in the gallery, it tunnels the wood as -it did before and completes its development. - -The result is the same with the Common Cockchafer. The stabbed insect -dies in a few minutes; the White Worm, [38] on the contrary, holds out, -goes underground and climbs back to the surface to gnaw the -lettuce-stalk which I have given it. If my patience as an insect-rearer -did not tire, the victim of the accident, from which it quickly -recovers, would become a Cockchafer, as may be seen from the paunch -sleek and glossy with health. - -A near kinsman of the Stag-beetle, Dorcus parallelopipedus, whose larva -I find in an old tamarisk-stump, adds his evidence to that of the -above: the adult insect dies, the larva resists. These instances are -sufficient; there is no need to continue on these lines. - -Cetonia-, Oryctes-, Capricorn-, Cockchafer- and Dorcus-grubs are fat -creatures, addicted to a vegetarian diet. Do these plump larvæ owe -their immunity to the nature of their victuals? Or, on the other hand, -can the fatty stratum, in which the reserves of these insatiable eaters -accumulate, neutralize the virulence of the sting? Let us enquire of -some lean flesh-eaters. - -I choose the largest of our Ground-Beetles, Procrusies coriaceus, a -saturnine hunter whom I meet at the foot of the walls, disembowelling a -Snail. A bold highwayman and built for fighting, he welds his -wing-cases into an inviolable cuirass. I pare away a little of his -armour behind, in order to render accessible to the Scorpion’s sting -the only penetrable part, the upper surface of the abdomen. - -We see a repetition of the Gold Beetle’s wretched end. The fight -against the agonies of the sting would strike us with horror, if things -were happening in a higher world. Thus struggles a Dog tortured by the -municipal sausage seasoned with strychnine. At first the wounded Beetle -scurries off desperately. Suddenly, he stops and raises himself high on -his stiffened legs; he lifts his hinder part, lowers his head and -supports himself on his mandibles as though about to turn a somersault. -A jolt topples him over. He falls; quickly he stands up again and -resumes his unnatural attitude. To look at him you would say that his -joints were controlled by wires. He is like an automaton worked by a -jerky spring. Another shake, another fall, another recovery: and this -goes on for twenty minutes or so. At last the demented Beetle collapses -on his back and does not get up again, though his limbs continue to -move. Next morning he is absolutely motionless. - -And what of the larva? Well, though destitute of the layer of fat which -would seem to protect the grubs of the Cetonia, the Oryctes and the -others, the meagre grub of the Procrustes is so little harmed by the -Scorpion’s sting that, a fortnight after the ordeal, it buries itself -in the ground and digs itself a cell in which the transformation is -effected. Lastly, not long after, the adult emerges from the soil in -perfect health. Therefore neither the diet nor the degree of stoutness -is responsible for this immunity. - -Nor is the place occupied in the entomological series, as the Moths -will tell us, now that the Beetles have spoken. The first to be -questioned is the Zeuzera, whose caterpillar has a calamitous effect -upon various trees and shrubs. I take a mother at the moment when she -is slipping her long ovipositor into the crevices in the bark of a -lilac-tree, to lay her eggs. She is magnificent in her white costume -adorned with steel-blue spots. [39] I place her at the Scorpion’s -mercy. The business is not protracted. No sooner is the Zeuzera stung -than she dies, with no disordered motions. Death is gentle to her. - -And the caterpillar? After the prick, the caterpillar is as well as -before. Restored to the gallery whence I extracted it by splitting its -lilac-branch, it works away busily as usual: I can see this by the -sawdust ejected through the orifice of the cell. The chrysalis and the -Moth come in the summer, according to rule. - -The Silkworm, which I am able to procure in such numbers as I require -from the nurseries at the farms hard by, lends itself much better to -experiment. At the end of May, when the rearing is nearly finished, I -cause a couple of dozen to be stung. The worms have a fine, chubby -skin, into which the sting each time enters easily, producing a copious -hemorrhage. The little table on which my curiosity drives me to -perpetrate these barbarities is soon covered with splashes of blood -like drops of liquid amber. - -When restored to their litter of mulberry-leaves, the wounded almost at -once set to browsing with their usual appetite. Ten days later, all, -from the first to the last, weave their cocoons, which are perfectly -normal in shape and thickness. Lastly, from these cocoons, without any -losses, emerge Moths whom we shall presently question in another -connection. For the moment it is proved that the Silkworm resists the -Scorpion’s sting. As for the Moth herself, we know what becomes of her. -She succumbs slowly, it it true, after the manner of the Great Peacock; -but at all events she succumbs: the sting is always fatal. - -The Spurge Hawk-moth gives the same answer: the Moth dies quickly: the -caterpillar defies the sting, eats its fill and then goes underground -itself into a chrysalis under a coarse veil of sand and silk. -Nevertheless, among the number operated upon, there are some which are -stabbed to death, perhaps because of the multiplicity of their wounds. -The skin offers a certain resistance to perforation and the discharge -of blood remains uncertain, leaving me undecided as to the efficiency -of the stab. I was obliged to prolong the struggle until the evidence -was complete and it is probable that I sometimes went too far. The -caterpillar which, if pricked but once, would have withstood the ordeal -as sturdily as the Silkworm perishes from an overdose. - -The mighty, turquoise-bedecked caterpillar of the Great Peacock -supplies me with very definite results. When pricked till the blood -comes and then replaced on its grazing-ground, the branch of almond, it -completes its development and accurately spins its ingenious cocoon. - -The Dipteron [40] and the Hymenopteron [41] should be worth -examination. Like the Moth and the Beetle, they undergo a general -remoulding through the action of the metamorphosis; but they are -small-sized and for the most part could not be easily manipulated were -my tweezers to present them to the sting. Their delicate larvæ would -die merely of the perforation of the skin. Let us question only the -giants. - -These latter include various Orthoptera, [42] the Tryxalis, the Grey -Locust, the White-faced Decticus, the Mole-cricket, the Mantis. As we -have already seen, all these succumb when struck by the Scorpion’s -sting. Now, in their group, the complete development essential to the -festival of the pairing is preceded by a transition-form which, without -being actually larval, and presenting no likeness whatever to the -adult, constitutes an inferior stage, a step towards the marriageable. - -The Grey Locust, as we see him on the vine at vintage-time, does not -yet possess his magnificent network wings, nor his leathery wing-cases; -he possesses only their rudiments, reduced to skimpy coat-tails. The -Mole-cricket, who ends by displaying an ample set of wings, which fold -back into a sharp tail and enclose the tip of the abdomen, has at first -only ungainly stumps, fastened to the upper part of the back. - -We behold the same sign of juvenile inferiority in the young Tryxalis, -the young Decticus and the others. These mighty, aerial sailing-craft -of the future have their canvas enclosed in the germ, in mean-looking -sheaths. As for the rest, the insect is, from the beginning, very -nearly what it will be in all the fullness of its finery. Age develops -and does not transform the Orthopteron. - -Now are these incomplete insects, with wing-stumps in the place of -wings, are these young insects capable of withstanding the Scorpion’s -sting as do the true larvæ, the babes of the Oryctes and the Capricorn, -the caterpillar of the Hawk-moth and the Bombyx? If the generous sap of -youth is an adequate preservative, we ought to find immunity here. We -find nothing of the sort. With wings or without, old or young, the -Mole-cricket perishes. The Mantis, the Locust, the Tryxalis, whether -adult or incomplete, perish likewise. - -In the matter of resistance to the Scorpion’s poison we are therefore -led to class insects in two categories: on the one hand, those which -undergo a real transformation, accompanied by an alteration of the -whole organism; on the other hand, those which undergo only secondary -modifications. In the first division, the larva resists and the adult -dies; in the second, death invariably ensues. - -What reason can we discover for this difference? Experiment shows us -first that resistance to the sting increases as the nature of the -victim becomes less highly organized. The Lycosa, the Epeira, the -Mantis, all exceedingly sensitive to impressions, succumb on the -instant, as though struck by lightning; the Gold Beetle and the -Procrustes, those strenuous livers, are seized forthwith with -convulsions similar to those produced by strychnine; the Sacred Beetle, -a spirited pill-roller, prances in a sort of St. Vitus’ dance. On the -other hand, the sluggish Oryctes, the lazy Cetonia, both lovers of -protracted slumbers in the heart of the roses, bear their misfortunes -patiently and fidget feebly for whole days on end before giving up the -ghost. Beneath them is the Acridian, the Locust, the essential rustic. -Lower still comes the Centipede, an inferior being, roughly organized. -It is evident therefore that the venom acts more quickly or more slowly -according to the patient’s nervous constitution. - -Let us consider separately the insects of a superior order, subject to -complete transformations. The word metamorphosis applied to them means -a change of form. Now is it only the shape that changes when the -caterpillar turns into a Moth, or when the grub in the leaf-mould -becomes a Cetonia? More than this occurs and much more, as the -Scorpion’s sting informs us. - -A profound and comprehensive renewal is effected in the vital statics -of the metamorphosed insect; the substance, which is actually still the -same, enters into fusion, subtilizes its atomic structure and becomes -liable to sensory vibrations which are the first appanage of the nubile -specimen. The armour of the wing-cases, the blades, tufts and quivering -stems of the antennæ, the legs fit for running and wings fit for -flying: all these are magnificent and yet all these are nothing. - -Something else towers high above them. The transformed insect has -acquired a new life, more active and richer in sensations. A second -birth has taken place in which all is renewed, in the invisible and -intangible even more than in the material domain. It is more than a -molecular rearrangement; it is the development of aptitudes unknown in -the past. The larva, generally a mere scrap of intestine, lived a -placid and very monotonous existence and lo, in view of the future -instincts, metamorphosis revolutionizes its substance, distils its -humours and refines the centres of energy atom by atom. An enormous -leap is made towards progress, but the new state has not the sturdy -equilibrium of the first, perfection has been gained at the cost of -stability; and so the insect dies of an ordeal which the grub would -support with impunity. - -With the Acridians and the Orthoptera in general, conditions are quite -different. Here there is no real metamorphosis, utterly changing the -structure, the mode of life and the habits. The insect remains, all its -life long, very much what it was on leaving the egg. It is born in a -shape which the future will hardly modify, with habits which will not -be altered by time. It undergoes no renovation, no sudden growth. In -its infancy already it possesses the temperament of the adult; and as -such it is deprived of the immunity enjoyed by rudimentary organisms. - -Exempted from a probationary period in the grub state, the short-coated -Locust suffers from the drawbacks of a too rapid development. He -perishes as quickly as the adult, whom he resembles in all but a few -details. - -I will not deny that the explanation which I have given may not be the -right one; and I will not insist upon it. A cast of the net into the -depths of the unknown does not always bring up to the surface the -correct idea, a very rare catch. A far-reaching fact is acquired -nevertheless, even though it remain unexplained. Metamorphosis modifies -the organic substance to the degree of changing its innermost -properties. The Scorpion’s poison, a reagent of transcendental -chemistry, distinguishes the flesh of the larva from that of the adult; -it is kindly to the first and deadly to the second. - -This curious result raises a question which is not alien to the -vainglorious theories affecting attenuated viruses, serums and -vaccines. A larva subject to complete metamorphosis is stung by the -Scorpion; we might readily say that it has been vaccinated, in the -sense that it has been inoculated with a virus fatal under the future -conditions, but tolerable in its effects in the present stage. The -patient does not seem affected by the sting; it begins to eat again and -continues its larval work as usual. - -The virus, however, cannot fail to act, in one way or another, on the -animal’s blood or nerves. Might it not lessen the vulnerability which -results from the transformation? Can the adult be rendered immune by a -habit acquired during the larval stage? Might it be able to resist the -virus as Mithridates was able to resist poison? In short, is the insect -with a complete metamorphosis whose larva has been stung capable of -itself withstanding the sting? That is the question. - -The confirmatory arguments are so urgent that we are at first tempted -to answer: - -“Yes, the adult will resist.” - -But we will leave experiment to speak for itself. With this object -preparations are made with four sets of subjects. The first consists of -twelve Cetonia-larvæ, which, after being stung in October, have been -revaccinated, that is to say, stung a second time, in May. The second -set is also composed of twelve Cetonia-larvæ, but these have been stung -once only, in May. Four chrysalids of the Spurge Hawk-moth form the -third. They belong to caterpillars stung once, in June. Lastly, I have -some cocoons spun by the Silkworm whose vaccination, attended by a flow -of blood, I have described above. The Scorpion will once more play his -part with each lot after the hatching has taken place. - -The Silkworm Moth is the first to respond to my impatience. The Moth is -there in two or three weeks’ time, bustling about in readiness for the -pairing. The stab received as a caterpillar has not cooled his ardour -in the very least. I subject him to the test. The attack is laboured -and the blow is not clearly struck. No matter: all those attacked -perish after a death-struggle lasting a day or two. The previous -vaccination has made no difference to the result: they succumbed before -and they succumb after. - -But these are feeble witnesses, on whom it is not wise to rely. I shall -achieve more, I feel convinced, with the Hawk-moths and especially with -those sturdy subjects the Cetoniæ. Well, the Hawk-moths whose -caterpillars have received the virus which theoretically should render -them immune retain their normal vulnerability: when attacked by the -sting, they succumb instantly, exactly like the others, who did not at -the larval age undergo a preventative inoculation. - -Perhaps the number of days elapsing between the stinging of the -caterpillar and of the moth was not sufficient to enable the virus to -act upon the organism to the requisite degree. It might need a longer -space of time to bring about the inward modifications caused by the -action of the poison on the insect’s organism. The Cetonia-larvæ will -perhaps be able to dispense with this period. - -I have a set of twelve of them, stung twice over, first in October and -then in May. The perfect insect bursts its cocoon at the end of July. -Ten months therefore have elapsed since the first sting and three -months since the second. Is the adult now immune? - -Not at all. When subjected to the Scorpion, my twelve vaccinated -specimens all perish, no more and no less quickly than their fellows -who were born quietly in their heap of rotten leaves. Twelve others, -pricked only once, in May, succumb with the same promptness. In the -case of both sets, my devices, which inspired me with confidence at -first, miscarry pitifully, to my extreme confusion. - -I try another method, that of transfusion of blood, which is related to -serotherapy. Since it resists the Scorpion’s sting, the larva of the -Cetonia must have blood endowed with special qualities, apt to -neutralize the virulence of the poison. If transferred from the larva -to the adult, might not this blood communicate its qualities and render -the perfect insect invulnerable? - -I give a Cetonia-grub a superficial wound with the point of a needle. -The blood spouts forth abundantly. I collect it in a watch-glass. A -glass tube of small diameter, drawn out to a sharp point, serves as an -injector. I charge it by suction with the fluid collected, varying the -dose from a cubic millimetre to ten and twenty times as much. By -blowing into the tube I transfer the liquid into some point of the -adult Cetonia, particularly on the ventral surface, where a needle has -prepared the way for the fragile injector. The insect stands the -operation very well. The richer by a little larval blood and not -seriously wounded, it presents every appearance of blooming health. - -Now what comes of this treatment? Nothing at all. I wait a day or two -to give the injected fluids time to diffuse and act. The Cetonia is -then presented to the Scorpion. Veil your face, O foolish physiologist: -the creature perishes as it would have done before your presumptuous -attempts at surgery. We cannot manipulate animals as we can the -reagents of chemistry. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: PRELUDES TO THE WEDDING - - -In April, when the Swallow returns to us and the Cuckoo sounds his -first note, a revolution takes place among my hitherto peaceable -Scorpions. Several whom I have established in the colony in the -enclosure, leave their shelter at nightfall, go wandering about and do -not return to their homes. A more serious business: often, under the -same stone, are two Scorpions of whom one is in the act of devouring -the other. Is this a case of brigandage among creatures of the same -order, who, falling into vagabond ways when the fine weather sets in -thoughtlessly enter their neighbours’ houses and there meet with their -undoing unless they be the stronger? One would almost think it, so -quickly is the intruder eaten up, for days at a time and in small -mouthfuls, even as the usual game would be. - -Now here is something to give us a hint. The Scorpions devoured are -invariably of middling size. Their lighter colouring, their less -protuberant bellies, mark them as males, always males. The others, -larger, more paunchy and a little darker in shade, do not end in this -unhappy fashion. So these are probably not brawls between neighbours -who, jealous of their solitude, would soon settle the hash of any -visitor and eat him afterwards, a drastic method of putting a stop to -further indiscretions; they are rather nuptial rites, tragically -performed by the matron after pairing. To determine how much ground -there is for this suspicion is beyond my powers until next year: I am -still too badly equipped. - -Spring returns once more. I have prepared the large glass cage in -advance and stocked it with twenty-five inhabitants, each with his bit -of crockery. From mid-April onwards, every evening, when it grows dark, -between seven and nine o’clock, great animation reigns in the crystal -palace. That which seemed deserted by day now becomes a scene of -festivity. As soon as supper is finished, the whole household runs out -to look on. A lantern hung outside the panes allows us to follow -events. - -It is our distraction after the worries of the day; it is our -play-house. In this theatre for simple folk, the performances are so -highly interesting that, the moment the lantern is lighted, all of us, -great and small alike, come and take our places in the stalls; all, -down to Tom, the House-dog. Tom, it is true, indifferent to Scorpion -affairs, like the true philosopher that he is, lies at our feet and -dozes, but only with one eye, keeping the other always open on his -friends the children. - -Let me try to give the reader an idea of what happens. A numerous -assembly soon gathers near the glass panes in the region discreetly lit -by the lanterns. Every elsewhere, here, there, single Scorpions walk -about and, attracted by the light, leave the shade and hasten to the -illuminated festival. The very Moths betray no greater eagerness to -flutter to the rays of our lamps. The newcomers mingle with the crowd, -while others, tired of their pastimes, withdraw into the shade, snatch -a few moments’ rest and then impetuously return upon the scene. - -These hideous devotees of gaiety provide a dance that is not wholly -devoid of charm. Some come from afar: solemnly they emerge from the -shadow; then, suddenly, with a rush as swift and easy as a slide, they -join the crowd, in the light. Their agility reminds one of Mice -scurrying along with their tiny steps. They seek one another and fly -precipitately the moment they touch, as though they had mutually burnt -their fingers. Others, after tumbling about a little with their -play-fellows, make off hurriedly wildly. They take fresh courage in the -dark and return. - -At times, there is a violent tumult: a confused mass of swarming legs, -snapping claws, tails curving and clashing, threatening or fondling, it -is hard to say which. In this affray, under favourable conditions, twin -specks of light flare and shine like carbuncles. One would take them -for eyes that emit flashing glances; in reality they are two polished, -reflecting facets, which occupy the front of the head. All, large and -small alike, take part in the brawl; it might be a battle to the death, -a general massacre; and it is just a wanton frolic. Even so do kittens -bemaul each other. Soon, the group disperses; all make off in all sorts -of directions, without a scratch, without a sprain. - -Behold the fugitives collecting once more beneath the lantern. They -pass and pass again; they come and go, often meeting front to front. He -who is in the greatest hurry walks over the back of the other, who lets -him have his way without any protest but a movement of the body. It is -no time for blows: at most, two Scorpions meeting will exchange a cuff, -that is to say, a rap of the caudal staff. In their community, this -friendly thump, in which the point of the sting plays no part, is a -sort of a fisticuff in frequent use. There are better things than -entangled legs and brandished tails; there are sometimes poses of the -highest originality. Face to face, with claws drawn back, two wrestlers -proceed to stand on their heads like acrobats, that is to say, resting -only on the fore-quarters, they raise the whole hinder portion of the -body, so much so that the chest displays the four little lung pockets -uncovered. Then the tails, held vertically erect in a straight line, -exchange mutual rubs, gliding one over the other, while their -extremities are hooked together and repeatedly fastened and unfastened. -Suddenly, the friendly pyramid falls to pieces and each runs off -hurriedly, without ceremony. - -What were these two wrestlers trying to do, in their eccentric posture? -Was it a set-to between two rivals? It would seem not, so peaceful is -the encounter. My subsequent observations were to tell me that this was -the mutual teasing of a betrothed couple. To declare his flame, the -Scorpion stands on his head. - -To continue as I have begun and give a homogeneous picture of the -thousand tiny particulars gathered day by day would have its -advantages: the story would sooner be told; but, at the same time -deprived of its details, which vary greatly between one observation and -the next and are difficult to piece together, it would be less -interesting. Nothing must be neglected in the relation of manners so -strange and as yet so little known. At the risk of repeating one’s self -here and there, it is preferable to adhere to chronological order and -to tell the story by fragments, as one’s observations reveal fresh -facts. Order will emerge from this disorder; for each of the more -remarkable evenings supplies some feature that corroborates and -completes those which go before. I will therefore continue my narration -in the form of a diary. - -25th April, 1904.—Hullo! What is this, something I have not yet seen? -My eyes, ever on the watch, look upon the affair for the first time. -Two Scorpions face each other, with claws outstretched and fingers -clasped. It is a question of a friendly grasp of the hand and not the -prelude to a battle, for the two partners are behaving to each other in -the most peaceful way. There is one of either sex. One is paunchy and -browner than the other: this is the female; the other is comparatively -slim and pale: this is the male. With their tails prettily curled, the -couple stroll with measured steps along the pane. The male is ahead and -walks backwards, without jolt or jerk, without any resistance to -overcome. The female follows obediently, clasped by her finger-tips and -face to face with her leader. - -The stroll is interrupted by halts that do not affect the method of -conjunction; it is resumed, now here, now there, from end to end of the -enclosure. Nothing shows the object which the strollers have in view. -They loiter, they dawdle, they most certainly exchange ogling glances. -Even so in my village, on Sundays, after vespers, do the youth of both -sexes saunter along the hedges, every Jack with his Jill. - -Often they tack about. It is always the male who decides which fresh -direction the pair shall take. Without releasing her hands, he turns -gracefully to the left or right about and places himself side by side -with his companion. Then, for a moment, with tail laid flat, he strokes -her spine. The other stands motionless, impassive. - -For over an hour, without tiring, I watch these interminable comings -and goings. A part of the household lends me its eyes in the presence -of the strange sight which no one in the world has yet seen, at least -with a vision capable of observing. In spite of the lateness of the -hour, which upsets all our habits, our attention is concentrated and no -essential thing escapes us. - -At last, about ten o’clock, something happens. The male has hit upon a -potsherd whose shelter seems to suit him. He releases his companion -with one hand, with one alone, and continuing to hold her with the -other, he scratches with his legs and sweeps with his tail. A grotto -opens. He enters and, slowly, without violence, drags the patient -Scorpioness after him. Soon both have disappeared. A plug of sand -closes the dwelling. The couple are at home. - -To disturb them would be a blunder: I should be interfering too soon, -at an inopportune moment, if I tried at once to see what was happening -below. The preliminary stages may last for the best part of the night; -and it does not do for me, who have turned eighty, to sit up so late. I -feel my legs giving way; and my eyes seem full of sand. - -All night long I dream of Scorpions. They crawl under my bed-clothes, -they pass over my face; and I am not particularly excited, so many -curious things do I see in my imagination. The next morning, at -daybreak, I lift the stoneware. The female is alone. Of the male there -is no trace, either in the home or in the neighbourhood. First -disappointment, to be followed by many others. - -10th May.—It is nearly seven o’clock in the evening; the sky is -overcast with signs of an approaching shower. Under one of the -potsherds is a motionless couple, face to face, with linked fingers. -Cautiously I raise the potsherd and leave the occupants uncovered, so -as to study the consequences of the interview at my ease. The darkness -of the night falls and nothing, it seems to me, will disturb the calm -of the home deprived of its roof. A sharp shower compels me to retire. -They, under the lid of the cage, have no need to take shelter against -the rain. What will they do, left to their business as they are but -deprived of a canopy to their alcove? - -An hour later, the rain ceases and I return to my Scorpions. They are -gone. They have taken up their abode under a neighbouring tile. Still -with their fingers linked, the female is outside and the male indoors, -preparing the home. At intervals of ten minutes, the members of my -family relieve one another, so as not to lose the exact moment of the -pairing, which appears to be imminent. Wasted pains: at eight o’clock, -it being now quite dark, the couple, dissatisfied with the spot, set -out on a fresh ramble, hand in hand, and go prospecting elsewhere. The -male, walking backwards, leads the way, chooses the dwelling as he -pleases; the female follows with docility. It is an exact repetition of -what I saw on the 25th of April. - -At last a tile is found to suit them. The male goes in first but this -time neither hand releases his companion for a moment. The nuptial -chamber is prepared with a few sweeps of the tail. Gently drawn towards -him, the Scorpioness enters in the wake of her guide. - -I visit them a couple of hours later, thinking that I’ve given them -time enough to finish their preparations. I lift the potsherd. They are -there in the same posture, face to face and hand in hand. I shall see -no more to-day. - -The next day, nothing new either. Each sits confronting the other, -meditatively. Without stirring a limb, the gossips, holding each other -by the finger-tips, continue their endless interview under the tile. In -the evening, at sunset, after sitting linked together for -four-and-twenty hours, the couple separate. He goes away from the tile, -she remains; and matters have not advanced by an inch. - -This observation gives us two facts to remember. After the stroll to -celebrate the betrothal, the couple need the mystery and quiet of a -shelter. Never would the nuptials be consummated in the open air, amid -the bustling crowd, in sight of all. Remove the roof of the house, by -night or day, with all possible discretion; and the husband and wife, -who seem absorbed in meditation, march off in search of another spot. -Also, the sojourn under the cover of a stone is a long one: we have -just seen it spun out to twenty-four hours and even then without a -decisive result. - -12th May.—What will this evening’s sitting teach us? The weather is -calm and hot, favourable to nocturnal pastimes. A couple has been -formed: how things began I do not know. This time the male is greatly -inferior to his corpulent mate. Nevertheless, the skinny wight performs -his duty gallantly. Walking backwards, according to rule, with his tail -rolled trumpetwise, he marches the fat Scorpioness around the glass -ramparts. After one circuit follows another, sometimes in the same, -sometimes in the opposite direction. - -Pauses are frequent. Then the foreheads touch, bend a little to left -and right, as if the two were whispering in each other’s ears. The -little fore-legs flutter in feverish caresses. What are they saying to -each other? How shall we translate their silent epithalamium into -words? - -The whole household turns out to see this curious team, which our -presence in no way disturbs. The pair are pronounced to be “pretty”; -and the expression is not exaggerated. Semitranslucent and shining in -the light of the lantern, they seem carved out of a block of amber. -Their arms outstretched, their tails rolled into graceful spirals, they -wander on with a slow movement and with measured tread. - -Nothing puts them out. Should some vagabond, taking the evening air and -keeping to the wall like themselves, meet them on their way, he stands -aside—for he understands these delicate matters—and leaves them a free -passage. Lastly, the shelter of a tile receives the strolling pair, the -male entering first and backwards: that goes without saying. It is nine -o’clock. - -The idyll of the evening is followed, during the night, by a hideous -tragedy. Next morning, we find the Scorpioness under the potsherd of -the previous day. The little male is by her side, but slain, and more -or less devoured. He lacks the head, a claw, a pair of legs. I place -the corpse in the open, on the threshold of the home. All day long, the -recluse does not touch it. When night returns, she goes out and, -meeting the deceased on her passage, carries him off to a distance to -give him a decent funeral, that is to finish eating him. - -This act of cannibalism agrees with what the open-air colony showed me -last year. From time to time, I would find, under the stones, a -pot-bellied female making a comfortable ritual meal off her companion -of the night. I suspected that the male, if he did not break loose in -time, once his functions were fulfilled, was devoured, wholly or -partly, according to the matron’s appetite. I now have the certain -proof before my eyes. Yesterday, I saw the couple enter their home -after their usual preliminary, the stroll; and, this morning, under the -same tile, at the moment of my visit, the bride is consuming her mate. - -Well, one supposes that the poor wretch has attained his ends. Were he -still necessary to the race, he would not be eaten yet. The couple -before us have therefore been quick about the business, whereas, I see -that others fail to finish after provocations and contemplations -exceeding in duration the time which it takes the hour-hand to go twice -around the clock. Circumstances impossible to state with precision—the -condition of the atmosphere perhaps, the electric tension, the -temperature, the individual ardour of the couple—to a large extent -accelerate or delay the finale of the pairing; and this constitutes a -serious difficulty for the observer anxious to seize the exact moment -whereat the as yet uncertain function of the combs might be revealed. - -14th May.—It is certainly not hunger that stirs up my animals night -after night. The quest of food has nothing to say to their evening -rounds. I have served to the busy crowd a varied bill of fare, selected -from that which they appear to like best. It includes tender morsels in -the shape of young Locusts; small Grasshoppers, fleshier than the -Acridians; Moths minus their wings. At a later season, I add -Dragon-flies, a highly-appreciated dish, as is proved by their -equivalent, the full-grown Ant-lion, of whom I used to find the -remnants, the wings, in the Scorpion’s cave. - -This luxurious game leaves them indifferent; they pay no attention to -it. Amid the hubbub, the Locusts hop, the Moths beat the ground with -the stumps of their wings, the Dragon-flies quiver; and the Scorpions -pass. They tread them underfoot, they topple them over, they push them -aside with a stroke of the tail; in short, they absolutely refuse to -look at them. They have other business in hand. - -Almost all of them skirt the glass wall. Some of them obstinately -attempt to scale it: they hoist themselves on their tails, fall down, -try again elsewhere. With their outstretched fists they knock against -the pane; they want to get away at all costs. And yet the grounds are -large enough, there is room for all; the walks lend themselves to long -strolls. No matter: they want to roam afar. If they were free, they -would disperse in every direction. Last year, at the same time, the -colonists of the enclosure left the village and I never saw them again. - -The spring pairing-season forces them to set forth exploring. The shy -hermits of yesterday now leave their cells and go on love’s pilgrimage; -heedless of food, they go in quest of their kind. Among the stones of -their domain there must be choice spots at which meetings take place, -at which assemblies are held. If I were not afraid of breaking my legs, -at night, over the rocky obstacles of their hills, I should love to -assist at their matrimonial festivals, amid the delights of liberty. -What do they do up there, on their bare slopes? Much the same, -apparently, as in the glass enclosure. Having picked a bride, they take -her about, for a long stretch of time, hand in hand, through the tufts -of lavender. If they miss the attractions of my lantern, they have the -moon, that incomparable lamp, to light them. - -20th May.—The sight of the first invitation to a stroll is not an event -upon which we can count every evening. Several emerge from under their -stones already linked in couples. In this concatenation of clasped -fingers, they have passed the whole day, motionless, face to face, -meditating. When night comes, without separating for a moment, they -resume the walk around the glass begun on the evening before, or even -earlier. No one knows when or how the junction was effected. Others -meet unexpectedly in sequestered passages, difficult of inspection. By -the time that I see them, it is too late: the team is on the way. - -To-day, chance favours me. The acquaintance is made before my eyes, in -the full light of the lantern. A frisky, sprightly male, in his hurried -rush through the crowd, suddenly finds himself confronting a fair -passer-by who takes his fancy. She does not gainsay him; and things -move quickly. - -The foreheads touch, the claws engage; the tails swing with a spacious -gesture: they stand up vertically, hook together at the tips and softly -stroke each other with a slow caress. The two animals stand on their -heads in the manner already described. Soon, the raised bodies sink to -the ground; fingers are clasped and the couple start on their stroll -without more ado. The pyramidal pose, therefore, is really the prelude -to the harnessing. The pose, it is true, is not rare between two -individuals of the same sex on the meeting; but it is then less correct -and above all, less marked by ceremony. At such times, we find -movements of impatience, instead of friendly excitations; the tails -strike in lieu of fondling each other. - -Let us watch the male, who hurries away backwards, very proud of his -conquest. Other females are met, who stand around and look on -inquisitively, perhaps enviously. One of them flings herself upon the -ravished bride, clasps her with her legs and makes an effort to stop -the team. The male exhausts himself in attempts to overcome this -resistance; in vain he shakes, in vain he pulls: things won’t move. -Undistressed by the accident, he throws up the game. A neighbour is -there, close by. Cutting parley short, this time without any further -declaration, he takes her hands and invites her to a stroll. She -protests, releases herself and runs away. - -From among the group of onlookers, a second is solicited, in the same -free and easy manner. She accepts, but there is nothing to tell us that -she will not escape from her seducer on the way. But what does the -coxcomb care? There are more where she came from! And what does he -want, when all is said? The first that comes along! - -This first-comer he soon finds, for here he is, leading his conquest by -the hand. He passes into the belt of light. Exerting all his strength, -he tugs and jerks at the other if she refuses to come, but is gentle in -his manner when he obtains a docile obedience. Pauses, sometimes rather -prolonged, are frequent. - -Then the male indulges in some curious exercises. Bringing his claws, -or let us say, his arms towards him and then stretching them out again, -he compels the female to make a like alternation of movements. The two -of them form a system of jointed rods, like a lazy-tongs, opening and -closing their quadrilateral by turns. After this gymnastic exercise, -the mechanism contracts and remains stationary. - -The foreheads now touch; the two mouths come together with tender -effusions. The word “kisses” comes to one’s mind to express these -caresses. It is not applicable; for head, face, lips, cheeks, all are -missing. The animal, lopped off short, as though with the shears, has -not even a muzzle. Where we look for a face we are confronted with a -dead wall of hideous jaws. - -And to the Scorpion this represents the supremely beautiful! With his -fore-legs, more delicate, more agile than the others, he pats the -horrible mask, which in his eyes is an exquisite little face; -voluptuously he nibbles and tickles with his jaws the equally hideous -mouth opposite. It is all superb in its tenderness and simplicity. The -Dove is said to have invented the kiss. But I know that he had a -fore-runner in the Scorpion. - -Dulcinea lets her admirer have his way and remains passive, not without -a secret longing to slip off. But how is she to set about it? It is -quite easy. The Scorpioness makes a cudgel of her tail and brings it -down with a bang upon the wrists of her too-ardent wooer, who there and -then lets go. The match is broken off, for the time being. To-morrow, -the sulking-fit will be over and things will resume their course. - -25th May.—This blow of the cudgel teaches us that the docile companion -revealed by our first observations is capable of whims, of obstinate -refusals, of sudden divorces. Let us give an example. - -This evening, he and she, a seemly couple, are out for a stroll. A tile -is found and appears to suit. Letting go with one claw, so as to have -some freedom of action, the male works with his legs and tail to clear -the entrance. He goes in. By degrees, as the dwelling is dug out, the -female follows him, meekly and gently, so one would think. - -Soon, the place and time perhaps not suiting her, she reappears and -half-emerges, backwards. She struggles against her abductor, who, on -his side, pulls her to him, without, as yet, showing himself. A lively -contest ensues, one making every effort outside the cabin, the other -inside. They go backwards and forwards by turns; and success is -undecided. At last, with a sudden effort, the Scorpioness drags her -companion out. - -The unbroken team is in the open; the walk is resumed. For a good hour, -they hug the panes, tacking down one side of the cage and back by the -other and then return to the tile recently deserted, the exact same -one. As the way is already open, the male enters without delay and -pulls like mad. Outside, the Scorpioness resists. Stiffening her legs, -which plough the soil, and buttressing her tail against the arch of the -tile, she refuses to go in. I like this resistance. What would the -pairing be without the playful setting of the preliminaries? - -Under the stone, however, the ravisher insists and contrives to such -good purpose that the rebel obeys. She enters. It has just struck ten. -If I have to sit up for the rest of the night, I will wait for the -result; I shall turn over the potsherd at the fitting moment to catch a -glimpse of what is happening underneath. Good opportunities are rare: -let us make the most of this one. What shall I see? - -Nothing at all. In half an hour or less, the recalcitrant female frees -herself, comes out of the shelter and flees. The other at once hurries -up from the back of the cabin, stops on the threshold and looks out. -The beauty has escaped him. Sheepishly he returns indoors. He has been -cheated. So have I. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: THE PAIRING - - -June sets in. For fear of a disturbance caused by too brilliant an -illumination, I have hitherto kept the lantern hung outside, at some -distance from the pane. The insufficient light does not allow me to -observe certain details of the manner in which the couple are linked -when strolling. Do they both play an active part in the scheme of the -clasped hands? Are their fingers mutually interlinked? Or is only one -of the pair active; and, if so, which? Let us ascertain exactly; the -thing is not without importance. - -I place the lantern inside, in the centre of the cage. There is good -light everywhere. Far from being scared, the Scorpions are gayer than -ever. They come hurrying round the beacon; some even try to climb up, -so as to be nearer the flame. They succeed in doing so by means of the -framework containing the glass panes. They hang on to the edges of the -tin strips and stubbornly, heedless of slipping, end by reaching the -top. There, motionless, lying partly on the glass, partly on the -support of the metal casing, they gaze the whole evening long, -fascinated by the burning wick. They remind me of the Great Peacock -Moths that used to hang in ecstasy under the reflector of my lamp. [43] - -At the foot of the beacon, in the full light, a couple lose no time in -standing on their heads. The two fence prettily with their tails and -then go a strolling. The male alone acts. With the two fingers of each -claw, he has seized the two fingers of the corresponding claw of the -Scorpioness bundled together. He alone exerts himself and squeezes; he -alone is at liberty to break the team when he likes: he has but to open -his pincers. The female cannot do this; she is a prisoner, handcuffed -by her ravisher. - -In rather infrequent cases, one may see even more remarkable things. I -have caught the Scorpion dragging his sweetheart along by the two -fore-arms; I have seen him pull her by one leg and the tail. She had -resisted the advances of the outstretched hand; and the bully, -forgetful of all reserve, had thrown her on her side and clawed hold of -her at random. The thing is quite clear: we have to do with a regular -rape, abduction with violence. Even so did Romulus’ youths rape the -Sabine women. - -The brutal ravisher is singularly persistent in his feats of prowess, -when we remember that things end tragically sooner or later. The ritual -demands that he shall be eaten after the wedding. What a strange world, -in which the victim drags the sacrificer by main force to the altar! - -From one evening to the next, I become aware that the more corpulent -females in my menagerie hardly ever take part in the sport of the -linked team; it is nearly always the young, slim-waisted ones to whom -the ardent strollers pay their addresses. They must have sprightly -flappers. True, there are moments when they have interviews with the -others, accompanied by strokes of the tail and attempts at harnessing; -but these are brief displays, devoid of any great fervour. No sooner is -she seized by the fingers than the portly temptress, with a blow of her -tail, rebukes the untimely familiarity. The rejected suitor retires -from the contest without insisting further. They go their several ways. - -The big-bellied ones are therefore elderly matrons, indifferent -nowadays to the effusive manners of the pairing-season. This time last -year and perhaps even before, they had their own good spell; and that -is enough for them henceforth. The female Scorpion’s period of -gestation is consequently extraordinarily long, longer than will be -often found even among animals of a higher order. It takes her a year -or more to mature her germs. - -Let us return to the couple whom we have just seen forming up beneath -the lantern. I inspect them at six o’clock the next morning. They are -under the tile linked precisely as though for a stroll, that is to say, -face to face and with clasped fingers. While I watch them, a second -pair forms and begins to wander to and fro. The early hour of the -expedition surprises me: I had never seen such an incident in broad -daylight and was seldom to see it again. As a rule it is at nightfall -that the Scorpions go strolling in couples. Whence this hurry to-day? - -I seem to catch a glimpse of the reason. It is stormy weather; in the -afternoon, there is incessant, very mild thunder. St. Mèdard, whose -feast fell yesterday, is opening his flood-gates wide; it pours all -night. The great electric tension and the smell of ozone have stirred -up the sleepy hermits, who, nervously irritated, for the most part come -to the threshold of their cells, stretching their questioning claws -outside and enquiring into the condition of things. Two, more violently -excited than the others, have come out, influenced by the intoxication -of the pairing which is enhanced by the intoxication of the storm; they -suited each other; and here they are solemnly marching to the sound of -the thunder-claps. - -They pass before open huts and try to go in. The owner objects. He -appears in the doorway, shaking his fists, and his action seems to say: - -“Go somewhere else; this place is taken.” - -They go away. They meet with the same refusal at other doors, the same -threats from the occupant. At last, for want of anything better, they -make their way under the tile where the first couple have been lodging -since the day before. - -The cohabitation entails no quarrelling; the first settlers and the -newcomers, side by side, keep very quiet, each couple absorbed in -meditation, completely motionless, with fingers still clasped. And this -goes on all day. At five o’clock in the evening, the couples separate. -Anxious apparently to take part in the usual twilight rejoicings, the -males leave the shelter; the females, on the other hand, remain under -the tile. Nothing, so far as I know, has happened during the long -interview, nothing despite the stimulating effects of the thunderstorm. - -This fourfold occupation of one dwelling is not an isolated instance: -groups, regardless of sex, are not infrequent under the potsherds in -the glass cage. I have already said that, in their original homes, I -have never found two Scorpions under one stone. We must not infer from -this that unsociable habits prohibit all intercourse among neighbours; -we should be making a mistake: the glazed enclosure tells us so. There -are cabins in more than sufficient numbers; each Scorpion would be able -to choose himself a dwelling and thenceforth to occupy it as the -jealous owner. Nothing of the kind takes place. Once the nocturnal -excitement sets in, there is no such thing as a home respected by -others. Everything is common property. Whoever wishes to slip under the -first tile that offers does so without protest from the occupant. The -Scorpions go abroad, walk about and enter any house they may chance -upon. In this way, when the twilight diversions are over, groups of -three, four, or sometimes more are formed without distinction of sex -and, packed pretty closely in the narrow home, spend the rest of the -night and the whole of the following day together. For that matter, -theirs is only a temporary shanty, which is exchanged next evening for -another, according to the strollers’ fancy. And these roving gipsies -live quite peaceably. There is never any serious strife between them, -even when they are five or six in the same messroom. - -Now this tolerance prevails only in the adults, due, no doubt, to some -degree, to the fear of reprisals. There is another and more imperative -reason for peaceful relations: concord is a necessity in assemblies at -which the future is being prepared. The Scorpions’ characters therefore -become assuaged, but not entirely: there are always perverse appetites -among the females who are about to enter upon the period of gestation. - -I have always present in my mind the memory of the following odious -spectacles. A heedless male, who has attained hardly a third or a -fourth of his final size, is passing, unthinking, of evil, before the -door of a dwelling. The fat matron comes out, accosts the poor wretch, -picks him up in her claws, kills him with her sting and then quietly -eats him. - -Scorpion lads and lasses, the one sooner, the other later, perish in -the same manner in the glass cage. I scruple to replace the deceased: -it would be providing fresh food for the slaughter. There were a dozen -of them; and in a few days I have not one left. Without the excuse of -hunger, for the regular victuals are plentiful, the females have -devoured them all. Youth is certainly a beautiful thing, but it has -terrible drawbacks in the society of these ogresses. - -I would gladly ascribe these massacres to the peculiar cravings often -provoked by pregnancy. The future mother is suspicious and intolerant; -to her everything is an enemy, to be got rid of by eating it, when -strength permits. And indeed, when the quickly emancipated family is -born, in the middle of August, a profound peace reigns in the -menagerie. My vigilance is unable to surprise a single case of these -outbreaks of cannibalism which used to occur so often. - -On the other hand, the males, indifferent to the safety of the family, -know nothing of these tragic frenzies. They are peaceful creatures, -blunt in their manners, but in any event incapable of ripping up their -fellows. We never see two rivals disputing in mortal combat, for the -possession of the coveted bride. Things happen, if not mildly, at least -without blows of the dagger. - -Two suitors come upon the same Scorpioness. Which of the two will -propose to her and take her for a walk? The point will be decided by -strength of wrist. - -Each takes the beauty by the hand nearest to him with the fingers of -one claw. One standing on the right, the other on the left, they pull -with all their might in opposite directions. The legs, braced -backwards, exert a powerful leverage; the flanks quiver; the tails sway -to and fro and suddenly dart forward. Now for it! They tug at the -Scorpioness by fits and starts with sudden backward runs; it is as -though they meant to pull her in two and each to carry off a piece. A -declaration of love implies a threat to rend her asunder. - -On the other hand, there is no direct exchange of fisticuffs between -them, not even a back-hander with the tail. Only the victim is -ill-treated and roughly at that. To see these lunatics struggling, you -would think that their arms would be torn out. Nevertheless, there are -no dislocations. - -Weary of an ineffectual contest, the two competitors at last take each -other by the hands that remain at liberty: they form a chain of three -and resume the process of jerking and tugging more violently than ever. -Each of them bustles to and fro, advances, recoils and pulls his -hardest till he is exhausted. Suddenly, the more fatigued of the two -throws up the sponge and runs away, leaving his adversary in possession -of the object of their passions so vehemently disputed. Then, with his -free claw, the victor completes the team and the stroll begins. As for -the vanquished, we will not trouble about him: he will soon have found -something in the crowd to make amends for his confusion. - -I will give you another instance of these meek encounters between -rivals. A couple are walking along. The male is of medium size, but -nevertheless very eager at the game. When his companion refuses to -advance, he pulls at her with jerks which send shudders along his -spine. A second male, larger than the first, appears upon the scene. -The lady takes his fancy; he desires her. Will he abuse his strength, -fling himself on the little chap, beat him, perhaps stab him? By no -means. Among Scorpions these delicate matters are not decided by force -of arms. - -The burly fellow leaves the dwarf alone. He goes straight to the -coveted fair and seizes her by the tail. Then the two vie with each -other in pulling, one in front, the other behind. A brief contest -follows, leaving each of them the master of a claw. With frantic -violence, one works on the right, the other on the left, as though they -wished to pull the dame to pieces. At length the smaller realizes that -he is beaten; he lets go and makes off. The big one lays hold of the -abandoned prey; and the team takes the road without further incident. - -Thus, evening after evening, for four months, from the end of April to -the beginning of September, the preludes to the pairing are -indefatigably repeated. The scorching dog-days do not calm these unruly -lovers; on the contrary, they inflame them with new ardour. In the -spring, I used to surprise the pilgrims’ tandems singly, at long -intervals; in July I observe them by threes and fours at a time, on the -same evening. - -I take the opportunity, with not much success, to enquire what goes on -under the tiles where the strolling couples take refuge; my wish is to -see the details of the tender interview from start to finish. It does -me no good to turn over the potsherd, even during the quiet hours of -the night. I have tried often and in vain. When deprived of their roof, -the linked couples resume their ramble and make for another shelter, -where the impossibility of prolonged observation obtains once more. -Special circumstances, independent of any intervention on our part, are -needed to make the delicate undertaking succeed. - -To-day these circumstances are present. At seven o’clock in the -morning, on the 3rd of July, a couple attracts my attention, a couple -whom I saw forming, walking about and selecting a home on the previous -evening. The male is under the tile, quite invisible save for the tips -of his claws. The cabin was too small to shelter the two. He went in; -she, with her mighty paunch, remained outside, clutched by the fingers -by her companion. - -The tail, curved into a wide arc, is bent slackly to one side, with the -point of the sting resting on the ground. The eight legs, firmly -planted, are drawn backwards, marking a tendency to escape. The whole -body is completely motionless. I inspect the fat Scorpioness twenty -times in the course of the day, without perceiving the least movement -of the hinder part, the least change in the attitude, the least flexion -in the curve of the tail. The animal could be no more lifeless if -turned to stone. - -The male, on his side, is no more active. Though I cannot see him, I at -least observe his fingers, which would tell me of any change of -posture. And this petrified condition, which has lasted for the best -part of the night, persists all day, until eight o’clock in the -evening. What do they feel, facing each other thus? What are they -doing, motionless with clasped fingers? If the expression were -allowable, I should say that they are meditating profoundly. It is the -only term that more or less represents what I see. But no human -language could have words fit to convey the bliss, the ecstasy of the -Scorpions thus coupled by the finger-tips. Let us remain silent upon -that which we cannot possibly understand. - -A little before eight o’clock, when the animation outside the house is -already approaching its height, the female suddenly moves; she -struggles and, with an effort, contrives to release herself. She flees, -with one of the pincers bent back towards her and the other stretched -out. To break her seductive bonds, she pulled with such violence that -she put one of her shoulders out of joint. She flees, feeling her way -with the uninjured claw. The male runs off too. All is over for this -evening. - -These rambles in pairs, which are customary in the evening all through -the summer, are evidently the preliminaries to more serious affairs. -The strollers inspect each other, display their graces, show off their -qualities before coming to conclusions. But when does the decisive -moment arrive? My patience is exhausted in waiting for it; I vainly -prolong my vigils and turn over potsherd after potsherd, in my anxiety -at last to know the exact part played by the combs; my hopes remain -unfulfilled. - -It is at a very late hour in the night that the marriage is -consummated: of that I have no doubt whatever. If I had any chance of -arriving at the right moment, I would struggle against sleep till break -of day: my old eyelids are still capable of doing so when the -acquisition of an idea is at stake. But how hazardous my perseverance -would be! - -I am very well aware, having seen it over and over again, that, in the -vast majority of cases, we find the couple next morning, under the -tile, harnessed together just as they were on the evening before. To -succeed, I should have to upset the habits of a lifetime and lie in -wait every night for three or four months on end. The plan is beyond my -strength: and I give it up. - -Once only did I obtain an inkling of the solution of the problem. At -the moment when I lift the stone, the male is turning over without -releasing the clasp of his hands; with his belly upturned, he slowly -slides backwards under his mate. [44] Even so does the Cricket behave -when his pleadings at last obtain a hearing. In this posture, the -couple would only have to steady themselves, probably with the teeth of -their combs, to achieve their ends. But, startled by the violation of -their home, the superimposed twain separate then and there. From the -little that I have seen, it seems likely, therefore, that the Scorpions -end their mating in an attitude similar to that of the Crickets. In -addition they have their hands clasped and their combs interlocked. - -I am better informed of subsequent events within the cell. Let us mark -the tiles under which the couples take refuge in the evening, after -their stroll. What do we find next morning? As a rule, precisely the -same linked couple as the day before, face to face, with fingers -united. - -Sometimes the female is alone. The male, having finished his business, -has found means to release himself and go away. He had grave reasons -for cutting short the transports of the alcove. Especially in May, the -time of the most ardent enjoyment, I often indeed find the female -nibbling and relishing her deceased mate. - -Who committed the murder? The Scorpioness, evidently. These are the -atrocious customs of the Praying Mantis: [45] the lover is stabbed and -then eaten, if he does not retire in time. By the exercise of -nimbleness and decision, he can do so sometimes, not always. He is able -to release his hands, for it is his that squeeze; by lifting his -thumbs, he unclasps them. But there remains the diabolical little -mechanism of the combs, an apparatus of sensual pleasure, now a trap. -On both sides the long teeth of this interlocking gear, closely fitting -and perhaps spasmodically contracted, refuse to come apart as promptly -as could be wished. The poor fellow is lost. - -He has a poisoned dagger similar to that which threatens him: can he, -does he know how to defend himself? It seems as though he cannot, for -he is always the victim. It is possible that his reversed posture -hinders him in wielding his tail, which he must curve over his back if -he wishes to bring it into play. Perhaps also an insuperable instinct -prevents him from putting the future mother to death. He allows himself -to be pinked by the terrible bride; he perishes without defence. - -The widow forthwith begins to eat him. It is a part of the ritual, as -with the Spiders, who, deprived of the Scorpion’s fatal engine, at -least leave the males time to escape if they are prompt enough in -forming a decision. - -The funeral repast, though frequent, is not indispensable; whether the -male is devoured depends a little on the condition of the female’s -stomach. I have seen some who, despising the nuptial morsel, frugally -swallowed the head of the deceased and then flung the corpse outside, -without touching it again. I have seen these furies carry their dead -husband at arm’s length, dragging him about the whole morning, in sight -of all, like a trophy, and then, without further ceremony, leaving him -untouched and abandoning him to those eager dissectors, the Ants. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: THE FAMILY - - -Book-knowledge is a poor resource in the problems of life; assiduous -study with the facts is preferable in this connection to the best -stocked library. In many cases, ignorance is a good thing: the mind -retains its freedom of investigation and does not stray along the roads -leading nowhither, suggested by one’s reading. I have proved the truth -of this once more. - -An anatomical monograph had told me that the Languedocian Scorpion is -big with young in September. Although it was written by a master’s -hand, how much better should I have done not to consult it! The family -sees the light of day long before this season, at least in my climate; -and, as the rearing lasts but a short time, I should have seen nothing -had I delayed until September. A third year of observation, tiresome to -wait for, would have become necessary, in order at last to witness a -sight which I foresaw to be of the highest interest. But for -exceptional circumstances, I should have allowed the fleeting -opportunity to pass, and should have lost a year and perhaps even -abandoned the subject. - -Yes, ignorance may have its advantages; the new is found far from the -beaten track. One of our most illustrious masters, little suspecting -the lesson he was giving me, taught me that some time ago. One fine -day, Pasteur [46] rang unexpectedly at my front-door: the very same man -who was soon to acquire such world-wide celebrity. His name was -familiar to me. I had read the scholar’s fine work on the dissymmetry -of tartaric acid; I had followed with the greatest interest his -researches on the theory of spontaneous generation. - -Each period has its scientific crotchet: to-day, it is evolution; in -those days, it was spontaneous generation. With his glass bulbs made -sterile or fertile at will, with his experiments which were magnificent -in their severity and simplicity, Pasteur gave the death-blow to the -lunacy which professed to see life springing from a chemical conflict -in the seat of putrefaction. - -At this time, the dispute, which was to be so triumphantly elucidated, -was at its height. I welcomed my distinguished visitor to the best of -my ability. The scientist had come to me before all others for certain -particulars. I owed this signal honour to my quality of fellow -physicist and chemist. Such a poor, obscure, fellow scientist! - -Pasteur’s tour through the Avignon region had sericiculture for its -object. For some years, the Silk-worm-nurseries had been in confusion, -ravaged by unknown plagues. The worms, for no appreciable reason, were -falling into a putrid deliquescence, and then hardening, so to speak, -into plaster sugar-plums. The downcast peasant saw one of his chief -crops disappearing; after great trouble and expense, he had to fling -his nurseries on the dust-heap. - -A few words were exchanged on the prevailing blight; and then, without -further preamble, my visitor said: - -“I should like to see some cocoons. I have never seen any; I know them -only by name. Could you get me some?” - -“Nothing easier. My landlord happens to sell cocoons; and he lives in -the next house. If you will wait a moment, I will bring you what you -want.” - -Four steps took me to my neighbour’s, where I crammed my pockets with -cocoons. I came back and handed them to the savant. He took one; he -turned and turned it between his fingers; he examined it curiously, as -one would a strange object from the other end of the world. He put it -to his ear and shook it. - -“Why, it makes a noise!” he said, quite surprised. “There’s something -inside!” - -“Of course there is.” - -“What is it?” - -“The chrysalis.” - -“How do you mean, the chrysalis?” - -“I mean the sort of mummy into which the caterpillar changes before -becoming a Moth.” - -“And has every cocoon one of those things inside it?” - -“Obviously. It is to protect the chrysalis that the caterpillar spins.” - -“Really!” - -And without more words, the cocoons passed into the pocket of the -savant, who was to instruct himself at his leisure touching that great -novelty, the chrysalis. I was struck by this magnificent assurance. -Pasteur had come to regenerate the Silkworm, while knowing nothing -about caterpillars, cocoons, chrysalids or metamorphoses. The ancient -gymnasts came naked to the fight. The talented combatant of the plague -of our Silk-worm-nurseries hastened to the battle likewise naked, that -is to say, destitute of the simplest notions about the insect which he -was to deliver from danger. I was staggered; nay, more, I was -thunderstruck. - -I was not so much amazed by what followed. Pasteur was occupied at the -time with another question, that of the improvement of wine by heating. -Suddenly changing the conversation, - -“Show me your cellar,” he said. - -I! I show my cellar, my private cellar, poor I, lately, with my pitiful -teacher’s salary, could not allow myself the luxury of a little wine -and used to make a sort of small cider by setting a handful of brown -sugar and some grated apples to ferment in a jar! My cellar! Show my -cellar! Why not my barrels, my cobwebbed bottles, each labelled with -its year and quality! My cellar! - -Full of confusion, I evaded the request and tried to change the -subject. But he persisted: - -“Show me your cellar, please.” - -There was no resisting such firmness. I pointed with my finger to a -corner in the kitchen, where stood a chair with no seat to it and, on -that chair, a demijohn containing two or three gallons. - -“That’s my cellar, sir.” - -“Is that your cellar?” - -“I have no other.” - -“Is that all?” - -“Yes, that’s all, I’m sorry to say.” - -“Really!” - -Not a word more; nothing further from the savant. Pasteur, it was -evident, had never tasted the highly-spiced dish which the vulgar call -la vache enragée. Though my cellar—the dilapidated chair and the more -than half-empty demijohn—had nothing to tell of the fermentation to be -checked by heat, it spoke eloquently of another thing which my -illustrious visitor seemed not to understand. There was one microbe -that escaped his notice, and a very terrible microbe: that of -ill-fortune strangling good-will. - -In spite of the unlucky introduction of the cellar, I am none the less -struck by his serene assurance. He knows nothing of the transformation -of insects; he has just seen a cocoon for the first time and learnt -that there is something inside that cocoon, the rough draft of the moth -that will be; he is ignorant of what is known to the meanest schoolboy -of our southern province; and this novice, whose artless questions -surprise me so greatly, is about to revolutionize the hygiene of the -Silk-worm nurseries. In the same way, he will revolutionize medicine -and general hygiene. - -His weapon is theory, heedless of details, and taking a bird’s-eye view -of the whole question. What cares he for metamorphoses, larvæ, nymphs, -cocoons, pupæ, chrysalids and the thousand and one little secrets of -entomology! For the purposes of his problem, perhaps, it is just as -well to be ignorant of all that. His theories will retain their -independence and their daring flight all the more easily; their -movements will be all the freer, when released from the leading-strings -of the known. - -Encouraged by the magnificent example of the cocoons rattling in -Pasteur’s astonished ears, I have made it a rule to adopt the method of -ignorance in my investigations of the instincts. I read very little. -Instead of turning the pages of books, an expensive proceeding quite -beyond my means, instead of consulting other people, I persist in -obstinately interviewing my subject until I succeed in making him -speak. I know nothing. So much the better: my queries will be all the -freer, now in this direction, now in the opposite, according to the -glimpses of light obtained. And if, by chance, I do open a book, I take -care to leave a compartment of my mind wide open to doubt; for the soil -which I am clearing bristles with weeds and brambles. - -For lack of taking this precaution, I very nearly wasted a year. -Relying on what I had read, I did not look for the family of the -Languedocian Scorpion until September; and I obtained it quite -unexpectedly in July. The difference between the real and the -anticipated date I ascribe to the disparity of the climates: my -observations were all made in Provence and my informant, Léon Dufour, -[47] made his in Spain. Notwithstanding the master’s high authority, I -ought to have been on my guard. I was not; and I should have lost the -opportunity if, as luck would have it, the Common Black Scorpion had -not taught me. Ah, how right was Pasteur not to know the chrysalis! - -The Common Scorpion, smaller and much less active than the other, was -reared, for purposes of comparison, in some humble glass jam-pots -standing on the table in my study. These unassuming receptacles did not -take up much room and were easy to examine and I made a point of -visiting them daily. Every morning, before sitting down to blacken a -few pages of my diary with prose, I invariably lifted the piece of -cardboard which I employed to shelter my boarders and enquired into the -happenings of the night. These daily inspections were not so feasible -in the large glass cage, whose numerous dwellings would all be thrown -into confusion, if they were to be examined one by one and then -methodically set in order as discovered. With my pots of Black -Scorpions, the inspection was the matter of a moment. - -It was well for me that I always had this auxiliary establishment -before my eyes. On the 22nd of July, at six o’clock in the morning, -raising the cardboard screen, I found a mother beneath it, with her -little ones clustering on her back like a sort of white cloak. I -experienced one of those moments of sweet contentment which, at -intervals, reward the long-suffering observer. For the first time I had -before my eyes the fine spectacle of the Scorpioness clad in her young. -The delivery was quite recent: it must have taken place during the -night, for, on the previous evening, the mother was naked. - -Further successes awaited me: on the next day, a second mother is -whitened with her brood: the day after that, two others at a time are -in the same condition. That makes four. It is more than my ambition -hoped for. With four families of Scorpions and a few quiet days before -me, we may find some pleasure in life. - -All the more so as fortune loads me with her favours. Ever since the -first discovery in the jars, I have been thinking of the glass jars and -asking myself whether the Languedocian Scorpion might not be as forward -as her black sister. Let us make haste and see. - -I turn over the twenty-five tiles. A glorious success! I feel one of -those hot waves of enthusiasm with which I was familiar at the age of -twenty rush through my old veins. Under three out of the total number -of tiles, I find a mother laden with her family. One has young that are -already quite of a fair size, about a week old, as my subsequent -observations informed me; the two others have borne their children -recently, during the recent night, as is proved by certain remnants -jealously guarded under the paunch. We shall see presently what these -remnants represent. - -July runs to an end, August and September pass and nothing more occurs -to swell my collection. The period of the family, therefore, for both -Scorpions is the second fortnight in July. From that time onwards -everything is finished. And yet, among my guests in the black cage, -there are still some females as big and fat as those from whom I have -obtained progeny. I reckoned on these too for an increase in the -population; all the appearances authorized me to do so. Winter comes -and none of them has answered my expectations. The business, which -seemed close at hand, has been put off to next year: a fresh proof of -long gestation, very singular in the case of an animal of a lower -order. - -I transfer each mother and her product, separately, into medium-sized -receptacles, which facilitate conscientious observation. At the early -hour of my visit, those brought to bed during the night have still a -part of the brood sheltered under their bellies. Pushing the mother -aside with a straw, I discover, amid the heap of young not yet hoisted -on the maternal back, objects that utterly upset all that the books -have taught me on this subject. The Scorpions, they say are viviparous. -The scientific expression lacks exactitude: the young do not first see -the light in the shape with which we are familiar. - -And this must be so. How would you have the outstretched claws, the -sprawling legs, the curled-up tails make their way through the maternal -passages? The cumberous little animal could never pass through the -narrow outlets. It must needs enter the world packed up and sparing of -space. - -The remnants found under the mothers, in fact, show me eggs, real eggs, -similar, or very nearly, to those which dissection extracts from the -ovaries at an advanced stage of pregnancy. The little animal, -economically compressed to the dimensions of a grain of rice, has its -tail laid along its belly, its claws flattened against its chest, its -legs pressed to its sides, so that the small easily gliding oval mass -presents not the slightest protuberance. On the forehead, dots of an -intense black mark the eyes. The tiny insect floats in a drop of -transparent moisture, which is for the moment its world, its -atmosphere, contained by a pellicle of exquisite delicacy. - -These objects are really eggs. There were thirty or forty of them, at -first, in the Languedocian Scorpion’s litter; not quite so many in the -Black Scorpion’s. Intervening too late in the nocturnal confinement, I -am present at the finish. The little that remains, however, is -sufficient to convince me. The Scorpion is in reality oviparous; only, -her eggs hatch very speedily and the liberation of the young follows -very soon after the laying. - -Now how does this liberation take place? I enjoy the remarkable -privilege of witnessing it. I see the mother with the points of her -mandibles delicately seizing, tearing, peeling off and lastly -swallowing the membrane of the egg. She strips her new-born offspring -with the fastidious care and fondness of the Sheep and the Cat eating -the fœtal wrappers. Not a scratch on that scarce-formed flesh, not a -limb strained, in spite of the clumsiness of the tool employed. - -I cannot get over my surprise: the Scorpion has initiated the race into -processes of maternity bordering on our own. In the distant days of the -carboniferous periods, when the first Scorpion appeared, the tender -cases of child-birth were already preparing. The egg, the equivalent of -the long-sleeping seed, the egg, as already possessed by the reptile -and the fish and later to be possessed by the bird and almost the whole -body of insects, was the contemporary of an infinitely more delicate -organism which ushered in the viviparousness of the higher animals. The -incubation of the germ did not take place outside, amidst the -threatening conflict of things; it was accomplished in the mother’s -womb. - -The progressive movements of life know no gradual stages, from fair to -good, from good to excellent; they proceed by leaps and bounds, in some -cases advancing, in some recoiling. The ocean has its rythmical ebb and -flow. Life, that other ocean, more unfathomable than the watery ocean, -has its ebb and flow likewise. Will it have any other tides? Who can -say it will? Who can say that it will not? - -If the Sheep did not assist by swallowing the membranous envelopes -after picking them up with her lips, never would the Lamb succeed in -extricating itself from its swaddling-clothes. In the same way, the -little Scorpion calls for its mother’s aid. I see some that, caught in -stickiness, writhe aimlessly in the half-torn ovarian sac, unable to -free themselves. It wants a touch of the mother’s teeth to complete the -deliverance. It is doubtful even whether the young insect contributes -to effect the laceration. Its weakness is of no avail against that -other weakness, the natal envelope, though this be as slender as the -inner lining of an onion-skin. - -The young Chick has a temporary callosity at the end of its beak, which -serves it as a pick-axe to break the shell. The young Scorpion, -condensed, to economise space, to the dimensions of a grain of rice, -waits inertly for help from without. The mother has to do everything. -She works with such a will that the accessories of childbirth disappear -altogether, even the few sterile eggs being swept away with the others -in the general flow. Not a remnant of the now useless tatters; -everything has returned to the mother’s stomach; and the spot of ground -that received the litter is swept absolutely clear. - -So here we have the young scrupulously cleaned and free. They are -white. Their length from head to tail, measures nine millimetres [48] -in the Languedocian Scorpion and four [49] in the Black. As the -liberating toilet is completed, they climb, first one and then the -other, on the mother’s back, hoisting themselves, without excessive -haste, along the claws, which the Scorpion holds flat on the ground, in -order to facilitate the ascent. Close packed one against the other, -entangled at random, they form a continuous sheet upon her back. With -the aid of their little claws, they settle themselves pretty firmly. I -find some difficulty in sweeping them away with the point of a -camel-hair pencil without more or less hurting the feeble creatures. At -this stage neither steed nor burden budges: it is the fit moment for -experiment. Clad in her offspring assembled to form a mantle of white -muslin, the Scorpion is a spectacle worthy of attention. She remains -motionless, with her tail curled on high. If I threaten the family too -closely with a straw, she at once lifts her two claws in an angry -attitude, rarely adopted in her own defence. The two fists are raised -as if for sparring, the nippers wide open, ready to thrust and parry. -The tail is seldom brandished: to loosen it suddenly would give a shock -to the spine and perhaps make a part of the load fall to the ground. -The bold, sudden, imposing menace of the fists suffices. - -My curiosity takes no notice of it. I push off one of the little ones -and place it facing its mother, a finger’s breadth distant. The mother -does not seem to trouble about the accident: motionless she was, -motionless she remains. Why perturb herself about a tumble? The fallen -child will be quite able to manage for itself. It gesticulates, it -moves about: and then, finding one of the mother’s claws within its -reach, it clambers up nimbly enough and joins the crowd of its -brothers. It resumes its seat in the saddle, but is far from displaying -the agility of the Lycosa’s sons, who are expert riders, versed in the -art of vaulting on horseback. - -The experiment is repeated on a larger scale. This time, I sweep a part -of the load to the ground; the little ones are scattered to no very -great distance. There is a somewhat lengthy, hesitating pause. While -the brats wander about, without quite knowing where to go, the mother -at last becomes at the state of affairs. With her two arms—I am -speaking of the pedipalpi that carry the pincers—with her two arms -joined in a semicircle, she rakes and gathers the sand so as to bring -the truants towards her. This is done awkwardly, clumsily, with no -precautions against accidental crushing. The Hen, with a soft, clucking -call, makes the wandering Chicks return to the pale; the Scorpion -collects her family with the sweep of the rake. All are safe and sound -nevertheless. As soon as they come in contact with the mother, they -climb up and form themselves again into the dorsal group. - -Strangers are admitted to this group as well as the legitimate -offspring. If, with the camel-hair broom, I dislodge a matron’s family, -wholly or in part, and place it within reach of a second mother, laden -with her own family, the latter will collect the young ones by armfuls, -as she would her own offspring, and meekly allow the newcomers to mount -upon her back. One would say that she adopts them, were the expression -not too ambitious. There is no adoption. We have once more the -blindness of the Lycosa, who is incapable of distinguishing between her -own and another’s progeny, and welcomes all that swarms about her legs. - -I expected to come upon excursions similar to those of the Lycosa, whom -it is not unusual to meet scouring the heath with her pack of children -on her back. The Scorpion knows nothing of these diversions. Once she -becomes a mother, for sometime she does not leave her home, not even in -the evening, at the hour when others sally forth to frolic. Barricaded -in her cell, not troubling to eat, she watches over the upbringing of -her young. - -As a matter of fact, these frail creatures have a ticklish ordeal to -undergo: they have, one might say, to be born a second time. They -prepare for it by immobility and by an inward labour not unlike that -which turns the larva into the perfect insect. In spite of their fairly -correct appearance as Scorpions, the young ones have rather indistinct -features, which look as though seen through a mist. One is inclined to -credit them with a sort of child’s smock, which they must throw off in -order to grow slender and acquire a definite outline. - -A week spent without moving, on the mother’s back, is required for this -work. Then there takes place an excoriation which I hesitate to -describe by the expression moult, so greatly does it differ from the -true moult, undergone later at repeated intervals. For the latter, the -skin splits over the thorax; and the animal emerges through this single -fissure, leaving a dry, cast-off garment behind it, similar in shape to -the Scorpion that has just discarded it. The empty mould retains the -exact outline of the moulded animal. - -But, this time, we have something different. I place a few young ones -in the act of shedding their skin on a sheet of glass. They are -motionless, sorely tried, it seems, almost spent. The skin bursts, -without special lines of cleavage; it tears at one and the same time in -front, behind, at the sides; the legs come out of their gaiters, the -claws leave their gauntlets, the tail quits its scabbard. The cast skin -falls in rags on all sides at once. It is a peeling without order and -in tatters. When it is done, the stripped insects present the normal -appearance of Scorpions. They have also acquired agility. Although -still pale in tint, they are nimble, quick to set foot to earth in -order to run and play beside their mother. The most striking part of -this progress is the rapid growth. The young of the Languedocian -Scorpion measured nine millimetres in length; they now measure -fourteen. [50] Those of the Black Scorpion have grown from four to six -or seven millimetres. [51] The length increases by one half, which -nearly trebles the volume. - -Surprised by this sudden growth, we wonder what the cause can be, for -the little ones have taken no food. Their weight has not increased; on -the contrary, it has diminished; for we must remember that the skin has -been cast. The volume increases, but not the mass. There is, therefore, -a distension up to a certain point, which may be compared with that of -inorganic bodies under the influence of heat. A secret change takes -place, which groups the living molecules into a more spacious -combination; and the volume increases without the addition of fresh -materials. One who, possessed of a fine patience and suitably equipped, -cared to follow the rapid changes of this architecture would, I think, -reap a harvest of some value. I, in my penury, abandon the problem to -others. - -The remnants of the peeling process are white strips, satiny rags, -which, so far from falling to the ground, adhere to the back of the -mother Scorpion, especially near the base of the legs, where they -become tangled into a soft carpet on which the lately-stripped insects -rest. The mount now boasts a saddle-cloth well adapted to hold her -restless riders in their seats. Whether these have to alight or to -remount, the layer of tatters, now become a solid harness, affords -support for rapid movement. - -When I topple over the family with a slight stroke of the camel-hair -pencil, it is amusing to see how quickly the unhorsed ones resume their -seat in the saddle. The fringes of the housings are grasped, the tail -is used as a lever and, with a bound, the rider is in his place. This -curious carpet, a real boarding-net which makes climbing easy, lasts, -without dislocations, for nearly a week, that is to say, until the -emancipation. Then it falls off of its own accord, either as a whole or -piecemeal, and nothing remains of it when the young are dispersed over -the surrounding country. - -Meantime, signs of the colouring appear; the tail and belly are tinged -with saffron, the claws assume the soft brilliancy of translucent -amber. Youth beautifies all things. The little Languedocian Scorpions -are really magnificent. If they remained thus, if they did not carry a -poison-still, soon to become threatening, they would be pretty -creatures which we should find a pleasure in rearing. Soon the wish for -emancipation awakens in them. They gladly descend from the mother’s -back to frolic merrily round about her. If they stray too far, the -mother cautions them and brings them back again by sweeping the rake of -her arms over the sand. - -At the time of the siesta, the sight furnished by the Scorpioness is -almost as good as that of the Hen and her Chicks at rest. Most of the -little ones are on the ground, pressed close against their mother: a -few are stationed on the white saddle-cloth, a delightful cushion. -There are some who clamber up the the mother’s tail, perch on the crest -of the curve and seem to delight in looking down from this point of -vantage upon the crowd. More acrobats arrive, who dislodge them and -take their places. All want their share in the curiosities provided by -the conning-tower. - -The bulk of the family is around the mother; there is a constant swarm -of brats that crawl under the belly and there squat, leaving their -forehead, with the gleaming black eye-points, outside. The more -restless prefer the mother’s legs, which to them represent a gymnasium; -they here swing as on a trapeze. Next, at their leisure, the whole -troop climb up to her back again, resume their places and settle down; -and nothing more stirs, neither mother nor little ones. - -This period, during which the Scorpion is matured and prepared for -emancipation, lasts a week, exactly as long as the strange process that -trebles the volume without food. The family remains upon the mother’s -back for a fortnight, all told. The Lycosa carries her young for six or -seven months, during which time they are always active and lively, -although unfed. What do those of the Scorpion eat, at least after the -excoriation that has given them agility and a new life? Does the mother -invite them to her meals and reserve the tenderest morsels of her -repasts for them? She invites nobody; she reserves nothing. - -I serve her a Locust, chosen among the small game that seems to me -best-suited to the delicate nature of her offspring. While she gnaws -the morsel, without troubling in the least about her surroundings, one -of the little ones slips down her back, advances over her head and -leans down to enquire what is happening. He touches her jaws with the -tip of his leg; then briskly he decamps, startled. He makes off; and he -is well-advised. The abyss engaged in the work of mastication, so far -from reserving him a mouthful, might perhaps snap him up and swallow -him without giving him a further thought. - -A second is hanging on behind the Locust, the fore part of whose body -the mother is munching. He nibbles, he pulls, eager for a bit. His -perseverance comes to nothing: the fare is too tough. - -It is plain enough to see: the appetite is awakening; the young would -gladly accept food, if the mother took the least care to offer them -any, especially food adapted to the frailty of their tender stomachs: -but she just eats for herself and that is all. - -What do you want, O my pretty little Scorpions, who have provided me -with such delightful moments? You want to go away, to some distant -place, in search of victuals, of the tiniest of tiny beasties. I can -see it by your restless roving. You run away from your mother, who, on -her side, ceases to know you. You are strong enough: the hour has come -to disperse. - -If I knew exactly what infinitesimal game is to your liking and if I -had sufficient time to procure it for you, I should love to continue -your upbringing, but not among the potsherds of your native cage, in -the company of your elders. I know their intolerant spirit. The ogres -would eat you up, my children. Your own mothers would not spare you. -You are strangers to them henceforth. Next year, at the wedding-season, -they would eat you, the jealous creatures! You had better go; prudence -demands it. - -Where could I lodge you and how could I feed you? The best thing is to -say good-bye, not without a certain regret on my part. One of these -days, I will take you and scatter you in your own domain, the -rock-strewn slope where the sun is so hot. There you will find brothers -and sisters who, hardly larger than yourselves, are already leading -solitary lives under their little stones, sometimes no bigger than a -thumb-nail. There you will learn the hard struggle for life better than -you would with me. - - - - - - - - -SOME PLANT LICE - - -CHAPTER I - -THE PENTATOMÆ AND THEIR EGGS - - -Of the forms which life is able to bestow on her creations, that of the -bird’s egg is one of the simplest and loveliest. Nowhere do we find the -beauty of the circle and the ellipse, the geometrical bases of organic -bodies, combined with greater precision. At one of the poles is the -sphere, the perfect form, capable of enclosing the greatest volume in -the smallest envelope; at the other is the point of the ellipsoid, -which tempers the monotonous austerities of the big end. - -The colour-scheme, likewise very simple, adds its graces to those of -form. Some eggs display the dull white of chalk, others the translucid -white of polished ivory. The Wheat-ear’s are a delicate blue, like that -of a sky freshly washed by a rain-storm; the Nightingale’s are a dark -green, like that of a pickled olive; the eggs of certain Warblers are -tinted with an exquisite carnation, like that of roses still in the -bud. - -The Yellow-hammer scrawls an indecipherable scribble on her eggs; that -is to say, the shells display mottled markings, an artistic mixture of -lines and blots. The Butcher-birds encircle the large end with a -speckled crown; the Blackbird and the Raven sprinkle brown splashes, -innocent of design, on a greenish-blue ground; the Curlew and the Gull -employ large spots like those on the Leopard’s coat; and so with the -rest; each has its speciality, its trade-mark, always designed in sober -colours, the mere matching of which constitutes a merit. - -With the exquisite simplicity of its geometry and its ornament, the -bird’s egg enchants the least cultivated eye. In return for the little -services which they render me, I sometimes admit to my study certain -small boys of the neighbourhood, zealous searchers all. Now what do -these simple-minded youngsters see in my work-room, of which they have -heard all sorts of wonders? They see big, glass-fronted cupboards in -which a thousand curious things are arranged, the cumbersome -accumulations that gather about any one who investigates stones, plants -and animals. Shells predominate. - -Huddling together in mutual encouragement, my shy visitors admire the -magnificent Sea-snails of every shape and colour; they point a finger -at this or that shell which, by the lustre of its mother-of-pearl, its -size and its strange protuberances, is especially conspicuous in the -midst of all the rest. They gaze at my treasures and I watch their -faces. I read on them surprise, amazement and nothing more. - -These things out of the sea, too complex in formation to impress a -novice, are mysterious objects that speak no known language. My little -giddy-pates are bewildered by these corkscrew stair-cases, these -scrolls and spirals and conchs, whose geometry is beyond their -comprehension. They are left almost cold before this display of oceanic -wealth. If I could get at what lies at the back of their minds, these -children would say: - -“How funny!” - -They would never say: - -“How pretty!” - -It is quite another story with the boxes in which the birds’-eggs of -the district are arranged, clutch by clutch, lying on cotton-wool, -protected from the light. Now their cheeks flush with excitement and -they whisper, in one another’s ears, which they would choose of the -finest group in the box. There is no amazement now, but ingenuous -admiration. It is true that the egg recalls the nest and the young -birds, those incomparable joys of childhood. Nevertheless, a rush of -reverent emotion evoked by the beautiful may be read on their faces. -The gems of the sea astound my little visitors; the simple beauty of -the eggs arouses a more human ecstasy. - -In the very great majority of cases, the insect’s egg is far from -attaining this consummate perfection, which impresses even the -unaccustomed gaze. The usual shapes are the sphere, the spindle or -cone, and the cylinder, with rounded ends, none of which is especially -graceful, owing to the absence of harmonious combinations of curves. -Many of them are dingy in colour; some, by their excessive richness, -form a violent contrast with the shortcomings of the germ inside. The -eggs of certain Moths and Butterflies are beads of bronze or nickel. In -these life seems to germinate within the rigid walls of a metal box. - -If we employ the magnifying-glass, we find that ornamentation of detail -is not unusual, but it is always complicated, without that nobler -simplicity which constitutes true beauty. The Clythræ [52] enclose -their eggs in a shell whose substance is laminated in scales like those -of a hop-cone, or twisted into intersecting diagonal fillets; certain -Locusts engrave their spindles, scooping out spiral rows of little pits -like those of a thimble. There is, to be sure, no lack of prettiness in -all this, but how far removed is such exuberance from the noble -austerity of beauty! - -The insect has ovarian æsthetics of its own, which have no relation to -those of the bird. I know of one case, however, in which comparison is -possible. An insect of indifferent repute, a woodland Bug, the -Pentatoma of the naturalists, may offer its egg for comparison with the -bird’s. This flat-bodied insect, emitting a horrible smell, lays -masterpieces of elegant simplicity, and, at the same time, of -mechanical ingenuity; it disgusts us by its cosmetic, its hair-oil; but -it interests us by its egg, which is worthy to rank beside that of the -bird. - -I have just made a discovery on a sprig of asparagus. It is a cluster -of eggs, about thirty in number, arranged in rows, in close contact, -like the beads on a piece of embroidery. I recognize the eggs of a -woodland Bug. The hatching took place some little time ago, for the -family has not yet dispersed. The empty eggshells have remained in -place without any loss of shape, except that their lids are open. - -What a delightful collection of miniature vases in translucent -alabaster, barely clouded with light grey! One would like to read a -fairy-tale of the world of tiny things in which the fairies take tea -out of such cups as these. The body of the vessel, a graceful oval cut -square at the top, shows a delicate brown network of polygonal meshes. -Imagine the top of a bird’s egg neatly removed, making a dainty little -goblet of the remainder, and you have something very like the egg of -the Bug. In either case there are the same gentle curves. - -Here the resemblance ceases. It is in the upper part of the egg that -the insect displays its originality; its creation is a box with a lid. -This slightly convex cover is ornamented, like the body of the jar, -with a network of fine mesh; it is further embellished along the edge -with an opal border. At the hatching it swings open as on a hinge and -comes away all of a piece. Sometimes it falls off and leaves the jar -wide open; sometimes it falls back into its normal position, once more -closing the jar, which looks as though it were still intact. Lastly, -the mouth is surrounded by very fine, thread-like attachments. These -are, as it were, rivets to hold the lid in position, so as to close the -vase hermetically. - -We must not overlook one exceedingly characteristic detail. Quite close -to the rim, inside the shell, there is always visible, after the -hatching, a mark like a broad arrow, or a capital T, with the arms -deflected like those of an anchor. What is the meaning of this -infinitesimal detail? Is it a latch, a sort of lock with a bolt and -hasp? Is it a potter’s mark, conferring a certificate of origin on the -masterpiece? What a strange effort of ceramic art merely to hold the -egg of a Bug! - -The young ones have not yet left the battery of jars from which they -recently emerged. Gathered together in a heap, they are waiting for the -bath of air and sunlight to harden them before dispersing and -implanting their suckers where they please. They are plump, thickset, -black, with the under surface of the belly red and the sides laced with -the same colour. How did they get out of their jars? By what artifice -did they raise the firmly-sealed lid? Let us try to find the answer to -this interesting question. - -It is the end of April. In the enclosure, just outside my door, the -camphor-scented rosemaries are in full flower, bringing me visits from -a multitude of insects which I can consult at any time. Various species -of Pentatomæ abound, but do not lend themselves to precise observation, -by reason of their wandering life. If I want to know exactly which egg -belongs to which species or, above all, if I want to learn how the -hatching is accomplished, it will not be enough to rely upon chance -inspections of the flowering shrubs. It will be better to resort to -rearing the insects under a wire-gauze cover. - -My captives, isolated according to species and represented each by a -certain number of couples, give me hardly any trouble. All they need is -a cheerful sun and a bunch of rosemary daily renewed. I add to the -furnishing of the cage a few leafy twigs from various bushes. The -insect will choose whichever suits her as the spot for laying her eggs. - -By the first fortnight in May the imprisoned Bugs have provided me with -eggs in excess of my hopes, eggs at once collected, together with their -support, species by species, and placed in small glass tubes, where, -unless I fail in vigilance, I shall easily be able to follow the -delicate hatching-process. - -It is really a beautiful, a most delightful collection, and would be -quite worthy to figure beside the eggs of the bird, if larger -dimensions came to the assistance of our feeble sight. From the moment -we have to resort to the microscope, we allow the splendid to escape -us. Let us magnify the Bug’s egg under the lens and it will amaze us as -surely as the Stonechat’s sky-blue egg, and perhaps even more. What a -pity that such beauty escapes our admiration by its minuteness! - -The shape is never a complete ovoid: that is the bird’s perquisite. The -upper end of the Pentatoma’s egg is always finished off with a sudden -truncation, into which a slightly convex lid is fitted, and we have -before us a tiny ciborium, a delicious casket, an antique urn, a -cylindrical cask with rounded ends, a full-bodied vase of Oriental -porcelain, with ornaments consisting of bands, rosettes or traceries, -varying according to the mother’s individual taste. Always, moreover, -when the egg is empty, we find a most delicate fringe of herring-boned -threads running round the mouth. These are the rivets to fasten the -lid, which are pushed up and back at the moment when the new-born -insect is released. - -Lastly, in all these egg-shells, after the hatching, we find inside -them, quite close to the rim, that black mark in the shape of a broad -arrow, of which we have already asked ourselves whether it is a -trade-mark or a sort of lock or bolt. The future will show us how far -our guesses fall short of the reality. - -The eggs are never sown at random. The whole batch is laid in a -close-packed group, in regular ranks of varying lengths, so that they -make a sort of mosaic of beads firmly fixed to their common support, -usually a leaf. They adhere so firmly that we may brush the leaf with a -camel-hair pencil, or even touch them with the finger, without in any -way disturbing their beautiful arrangement. After the young have gone -we find the open shells still in position, like so many little jam-pots -standing in rows on a market-woman’s barrow. - -Let me end by giving a few specific details. The eggs of the -Black-horned Pentatoma (P. nigricorne) are cylindroid in form, the base -being a segment of a sphere. The lid, bearing a broad white band at the -edge, frequently, but not always, has in the centre a transparent -protuberance, a sort of knob like that on the lid of a preserve-jar. -Its entire surface is smooth and glossy, with no other ornament than -its simplicity. The colour varies according to the degree of maturity. -When recently laid the eggs are of a uniform straw-yellow: later, owing -to the gradual organization of the germ, they turn a pale orange, with -a triangular bright-red patch in the centre of the lid. When empty they -are a magnificent, pellucid opal-white, except the lid, which has -become transparent as glass. - -Of the clutches of eggs obtained the most numerous was a patch of nine -rows, each containing about a dozen eggs. The total was thus about a -hundred. But usually the number of eggs is smaller than this, amounting -to only half as many or less. Groups containing about a score of eggs -are not uncommon. The enormous difference between these extremes -testifies to multiple layings at different spots, which, in view of the -insect’s rapid flight, may be at quite a distance from one another. -This detail will be of value when the time comes. - -The Pale-Green Pentatoma (P. praesinum) moulds her eggs in little -barrels, ovoid at the bottom and adorned over their whole surface with -a network of fine polygonal meshes in relief. Their colour is a sooty -brown, and, after the hatching, a very light brown. The largest groups -of eggs contain thirty or so. It is probably to this species that the -eggs belong which first attracted my attention on a sprig of asparagus. - -As for the Berry Pentatoma (P. baccarum) here we again have barrels -with rounded ends, covered all over the surface with a tracery of -meshes. At first they are opaque and dark; then, being empty, they -become translucent and white or pale-pink. Of these eggs I find groups -of fifty and others of fifteen or even less. - -That blessed plant of the kitchen-gardens, the cabbage, gives me the -Ornate Pentatoma (P. ornatum), striped black and red. The eggs of this -species are the prettiest of all in colouring. They are like little -casks with the two ends convex, especially the lower. The microscope -shows us a surface engraved with pits, like those of a thimble, -arranged with exquisite regularity. At the top and bottom of the -cylinder there is a broad dull-black band; on the sides is a wide white -belt with four large black spots symmetrically placed. The lid, -surrounded with snow-white filaments and edged with white, swells into -a black dome with a central white spot. In short, a funeral urn, with -its violent contrast of coal-black and creamy white. The Etruscans -would have considered it a magnificent model for their burial vessels. - -These eggs, with their funeral ornamentation, are arranged in small -groups, generally in two rows. There are hardly a dozen all told: a -fresh proof that the eggs must be laid in a number of batches and at -different points; for the Cabbage Bug cannot limit herself to this -paltry number when one of her relatives exceeds the hundred. - -May is not over before the various batches of eggs collected and placed -in tubes hatch out, first one and then another. Two or three weeks are -enough to develop the germ. This is the time for constant vigilance, if -I wish to understand the mechanism employed for the emergence and, -above all, the function of the strange tool, with the three black arms, -which I find in every shell, at the edge of the opening, once the -new-born larva has departed. - -Those eggs which are translucent from the outset—for example, those of -the Black-horned Pentatoma—enable me, in the first place, to discover -that the implement of unknown use makes its appearance rather late, -when the approaching deliverance is announced by a change in the colour -of the lid. It is not, therefore, an original part of the egg, as this -descended from the ovaries; it is elaborated during the process of -development, and even at a somewhat advanced phase, when the little Bug -has already been formed. - -We must therefore cease to regard it, as I did at first, as a spring, a -lock, some sort of a hinge to hold the lid in place. An actual device -for keeping the egg closed and protecting the germ would have to be in -existence when the egg was laid. And it is just at the end, when the -time has come to leave it, that the egg reveals this device. It is a -question no longer of closing, but of opening. And, in this case, might -not the puzzling implement be a key, a lever to force open the lid, -held on by thread-like rivets, and perhaps also by the glue of an -adhesive? Assiduous patience will tell us. - -Holding the magnifying-glass above my test-tubes, which I examine every -moment, at last I witness the hatching. The process is just beginning. -The lid is rising imperceptibly at one pole of its diameter; at the -other it is tilting like a door on its hinges. The youngster has its -back to the wall of the barrel, just below the edge of the lid, which -is already gaping, a capital situation, enabling me to follow with some -exactness the progress of the deliverance. - -The little Bug, shrunken and motionless, has its head crowned with a -skin cap, suspected rather than seen, so fine is it. Later, when it -falls off, this cap will be plainly visible. It serves as the base of a -trihedral angle. The three arms forming this angle are rigid and -intensely black and look as if they ought to be of a horny nature. Two -of them extend between the eyes, which are bright red; the third passes -down behind the head and is connected with the others, right and left, -by a dark, very fine line. I might very well regard these dark lines as -tense threads, ligaments which brace the three arms of the apparatus -and prevent them from slipping farther apart, thereby blunting the -point of the angle, which is itself the key of the casket, that is, the -rammer for pushing back the lid. This three-cornered mitre protects the -head, which is still soft and fleshy and incapable of forcing the -obstruction: with its adamantine point truly applied right at the edge -of the lid it has a firm grip of the disk which has to be unfastened. - -This mechanism, this cap surmounted by an armoured point, must have its -motive force. Where is it? It is at the top of the head. Look -carefully, and there, involving a certain small area, almost a point, -you will see rapid pulsations, we might almost say piston-strokes, -produced, beyond a doubt, by sudden waves of blood. By hurriedly -injecting what little fluid its body contains under its pliant cranium, -the tiny creature turns its weakness into energy. The three-cornered -helmet rises, pushing upwards, always pressing its point firmly on the -same point of the lid. No blow is struck upon the tool; there is no -intermittent percussion, but a continuous thrust. - -The operation is so laborious that it lasts for more than an hour. By -imperceptible degrees the lid is unfastened and rises obliquely, but as -a rule continues to adhere to the rim of the vase at the opposite pole -of the diameter. At this pivotal point, where it would seem that there -must be a hinge, the lens reveals nothing peculiar. Here, as every -elsewhere, there is a mere row of threads, drawn down to form rivets -for closing the cask. On the side opposite the point attacked, these -rivets, less disturbed than the rest, do not quite give way, act as a -hinge. - -Little by little the tiny creature emerges from its shell. The legs and -antennæ, economically folded over the thorax and abdomen, are -completely motionless. Nothing moves, yet the Bug protrudes farther and -farther from its casket, doubtless with the aid of a process like that -employed by the larva of the Balaninus, [53] on leaving its nut. The -flow of blood which causes the piston-strokes of the cranium distends -also that part of the body which is already free and converts it into a -supporting cushion; the hinder part, which is still imprisoned, is -diminished accordingly and in its turn enters the narrow opening. The -insect passes through a draw-plate, so gently and carefully that the -most I can detect is a tentative rocking to and fro at distant -intervals as it drags itself from its socket. - -At last the rivets are forced, the casket is open, and the lid, now on -a slant, is sufficiently raised. The three-cornered mitre has done its -work. What will become of it? Henceforth useless as a tool, it has to -disappear; and, as a matter of fact, I see it discarded. The filmy -head-dress which served as its foundation tears, becomes a tattered rag -and very slowly slips over the Bug’s ventral surface, dragging with it -the hard little black contrivance, which still retains its shape. -Scarcely has this relic slipped midway down the belly when the tiny -creature, hitherto motionless in the attitude of a mummy, frees its -legs and antennæ from their economical position, stretches them out and -impatiently waves them to and fro. It is over: the insect leaves its -sheath. - -The instrument of release, still in the shape of a T with arms bent -slightly downwards and sideways, remains sticking to the wall of the -shell, near the opening. Long after the insect’s departure the lens -finds the ingenious triangle in its place. Its formation is the same in -the various Pentatomæ; but until we surprise the insect in the act of -hatching its function is incomprehensible. - -A word more on the manner of opening the lidded casket. I have said -that the young Bug has its back to the wall of the little barrel, as -far as possible from the centre. It is here that it is born, dons its -tiara and afterwards pushes with its head. Why does it not occupy the -central region, a position which would seem to be prescribed by the -shape of the egg and the more effectual protection of the grub’s early -frailty? Can there be any advantage in being born elsewhere, on the -very circumference? - -Yes, there is, and a very distinct advantage, of a mechanical order. -With the top of its head, which throbs with the rushes of blood, the -new-born insect thrusts his pointed cap against the lid to be -unfastened. What can be the cranial thrust of a drop of albumen but -lately congealed into a living entity? He would be a bold man who -should venture to reply, so far is it beneath all evaluation. And this -mere nothing has to push open the solid lid of the box. - -Let us picture the thrust applied to the centre. In that case the -effort to dislodge the lid, the veriest trifle of an effort, would be -uniformly distributed over the entire circumference, and all the rivets -which fasten it would play their part in the resistance offered. -Singly, the stitches would give way before the tiny force available; -but all together they are invincible. The method of the central thrust -is therefore impracticable. - -If we wished to loosen a nailed plank, it would be an illogical action -to bang it in the middle. The whole of the nails would react in a -common and insurmountable resistance. On the contrary, we attack it at -one end; we apply the leverage of our implement progressively to one -nail after another. The little Bug in its casket does much the same: it -pushes out the extreme edge of the lid, so that, beginning at the point -attacked, the rivets give way, one by one. The total resistance is -overcome because it is divided. - -Well done, little Bug! You have your own science of mechanics, based on -the same laws as ours; you know the secrets of the lever and the -lifting-jack. To break its shell, the nascent bird grows a callosity on -its beak, a pick-axe point whose function is to break down the chalky -wall piecemeal. When the task is accomplished this callus, the tool of -a day, disappears. You have something better than the bird’s device. - -When the hour of your emergence comes, you don a cap in which three -stiff ribs converge to a point. At the base of this appliance your soft -cranium acts like the piston of an hydraulic press. Thus attacked, the -roof of your hut is unfastened and thrown back. The bird’s callosity -disappears when the shell is in pieces; so does the mitre with which -you push out the head of your barrel. As soon as the lid opens wide -enough to let you pass, you doff your cap with its tripod of rods. - -Your egg, however, is not broken; there is no violent demolition such -as that practised by the bird. When empty, the egg-shell is not a ruin: -it is still the graceful little egg that it was in the beginning, -rendered yet more exquisite by its translucence, which enhances its -beauties. In what school, little Bug, did you learn the art of opening -your natal casket and the use of your little contrivance? There are -those who will say: - -“In the school of chance.” - -But you, in all humility, cock your mitre and reply: - -“That’s not true.” - -The Pentatoma is noted for another detail, which, if it were definitely -proved, would surpass a hundredfold the marvels of the egg. I quote the -following passage from De Geer, [54] the Swedish Réaumur [55]: - -“The Bugs of this species (Pentatoma griseum) live on the birch-tree. -In the early part of July, I found several of them accompanied by their -young. Each mother was surrounded by a troop of young ones, to the -number of twenty, thirty and even forty. She always kept close beside -them, commonly on one of the catkins of the tree that contained her -eggs, and sometimes on a leaf. I have noted that these little Bugs and -their mother do not always remain on the same spot, and that as soon as -the mother begins to move away all her little ones follow her, stopping -whenever the mother calls a halt. She thus leads them from catkin to -catkin or leaf to leaf and takes them wherever she pleases, as a Hen -does her Chicks. - -“There are Bugs that do not leave their offspring; they even keep watch -over them and take the greatest care of them while they are young. One -day I happened to cut a young birch-branch peopled with such a family -and I first observed the extremely uneasy mother, incessantly beating -her wings with a rapid movement, without, however, stirring from the -spot, as though to drive away the enemy that had just approached, -whereas, in any other circumstances, she would at once have flown away -or sought to escape, which proves that she was remaining only to defend -her young.” - -M. Karl de Geer has observed that it is chiefly against the male of her -species that the mother Bug is obliged to defend her young, because he -tries to devour them wherever he comes upon them; and on such occasions -she always tries with all her might to protect them against his -attacks. - -In his Curiosités d’historie naturelle, Boitard still farther -embellishes the picture of family life painted by De Geer: - -“It is most curious,” he says, “to see how the mother Bug, when a few -drops of rain are falling, leads her young under a leaf or the fork of -a branch to shelter them. Even there her anxious affection is not -reassured; she drives them into a closely-packed flock, places herself -in their midst and covers them with her wings, which she spreads over -them umbrella-wise; and, in spite of the discomfort of her position, -she retains this attitude of a brooding Hen until the storm has blown -over.” - - - -Shall I confess it? This umbrella made of the mother’s wings during -showery weather, this procession of a Hen leading her Chicks, this -devotion in warding off the attacks of a father inclined to devour his -family leave me just a little incredulous, without surprising me, -experience having taught me that the books are full of little anecdotes -incapable of surviving the ordeal of a strict investigation. - -An incomplete observation, wrongly interpreted, sets the story going. -Then come the compilers, who faithfully hand down the legend, the -unsound fruit of the imagination; and error, confirmed by repetition, -becomes an article of faith. What, for example, was not reported of the -Sacred Beetle and her pill, the Necrophorus [56] and her work of -burial, the Hunting Wasp and her game, the Cicada and her well, before -the truth was arrived at? The real, which is perfectly simple, and -supremely beautiful, too often escapes us, giving way before the -imaginary, which is less troublesome to acquire. Instead of going back -to the facts and seeing for ourselves, we blindly follow tradition. -To-day no one would write a few lines on the Pentatomæ without dragging -in the Swedish naturalist’s doubtful story, and no one, as far as I -know, has mentioned the genuine marvels connected with the mechanism of -the hatching. - -What can De Geer have seen? The observer’s high standing gives us -confidence; none the less, I shall take the liberty of experimenting in -my turn before accepting the master’s statements. - -The Grey Bug, the subject of my story, is less frequent than the others -in my neighbourhood: on the rosemaries in the enclosure, my field of -exploration, I find three or four which, when placed under glass, do -not give me any eggs. The set-back does not seem irreparable: what the -grey refuses to reveal the green or the yellow or the red-and-black -striped—one and all of similar formation and like habits—will show me. -In species so closely akin, the family cares of the one must, in all -but a few details, be reproduced in the others. Let us then note how -the four Pentatomæ reared in captivity behave in the matter of their -new-born young. Their unanimous testimony will convince us. - -At the very outset I was struck by a fact which disagreed with what I -had a right to expect in a future Hen leading her Chicks. The mother -pays no attention to her eggs. When the last has been laid in its place -at the extreme end of the last row, she makes off, heedless of what she -has left behind her. She does not trouble about it any more, does not -return to it. If the hazards of her wanderings lead her up to it, she -steps on the heap, crosses it and passes on, indifferent. The evidence -leaves nothing to be desired: the coming upon a patch of eggs is an -incident of no interest to the mother. - -We must not attribute this negligence to the aberrations which may -possibly occur in a state of captivity. In the perfect liberty of the -fields I have come across many batches of eggs, perhaps including those -of the Grey Bug; never have I seen the mother standing by her eggs, -which she would have to do if her family required protection as soon as -hatched. - -The gravid mother is a quick flier and of a vagabond temperament. Once -she has flown to a considerable distance from the leaf which has -received her eggs, how is she to remember, two or three weeks later, -that the hour for hatching is at hand? How is she to find her eggs -again? Moreover, how is she to distinguish them from those of another -mother? To believe her capable of such feats of clairvoyance and memory -in the immensity of the open fields would be midsummer madness. - -Never, I say, did I detect a mother permanently posted beside the eggs -which she had fastened to a leaf. Further, the total emission is split -up into partial deposits dispersed at random, so that the whole tribe -comprises a series of clans encamped here and there, often removed to -considerable distances which it is impossible to specify. - -To rediscover these flocks at the time of the hatching, which falls -earlier or later according to the date of production and the degree of -exposure to the sun; then, from all over the country-side, to gather -into one herd the whole of her very frail and short-legged offspring: -this were an obvious impossibility. Let us nevertheless suppose that, -by a stroke of good fortune, one of these groups is found and -recognized and that the mother devotes herself to it. The others are -necessarily abandoned. They thrive none the less well for that. Why, -then, should some of the young Bugs be so strangely favoured by -maternal solicitude while the majority are able to do without it? Such -peculiarities make one suspicious. - -De Geer speaks of groups of twenty. These, we are forced to believe, -were not the complete family, but detachments sprung from a partial -laying. A Pentatoma smaller than the Grey Bug has given me, in one -single deposit, more than a hundred eggs. This fecundity must be the -general rule where the mode of life is the same. Apart from the twenty -watched, then, what became of the rest, left to their own devices? - -With all due respect to the Swedish naturalist, the tender cares of the -mother Bug and the unnatural appetites of the father eating his -children must be relegated to the fairy-tales with which history is -crammed. I can obtain, in my breeding-cages, as many hatchings as I -wish. The parents are close at hand, under the same cover. What do they -do respectively in the presence of the little ones? - -Nothing whatever: the fathers do not hasten to slaughter their brats -nor do the mothers hasten to their rescue. They wander to and fro on -the wire trellis; they take their rest in the restaurant provided by a -tuft of rosemary; they pass through the groups of new-born Bugs and -topple them over, without evil intent, but also without the least -consideration. They are so small, the poor little wretches, and so -feeble! A passer-by who grazes them with the tip of his foot turns them -over on their backs. Like overturned Tortoises, they vainly kick and -wriggle; no one heeds them. - -Come then, O devoted mother! Since your family is beset by the danger -of capsizing and other disagreeable accidents, place yourself at their -head; lead them, step by step, into peaceful pastures; cover them with -the buckler of your wing-cases! Any one waiting to observe these -beautiful actions, these admirable and edifying moral characteristics, -will waste his time and his patience. In three months of diligent -watching I never saw, on the part of my charges, any action which in -any way suggested the maternal solicitude so often extolled by the -compilers of history. - -Nature the universal nurse, alma parens rerum, is infinitely tender in -her treatment of the germs, the treasure of the future; she is a harsh -step-mother to the parent. As soon as the creature is capable of -supporting itself, she delivers it without pity to life’s cruel -schooling, which teaches it to resist in the fierce struggle for -existence. At first a tender mother, she gives the Pentatoma a -delightful casket with a sealed lid to guard the budding flesh from -harm; she caps the tiny insect with a mechanical device to set it free, -a masterpiece of delicate ingenuity; and then, a stern schoolmistress, -she says to the little one: - -“I am leaving you. You must now fend for yourself in the hurly-burly of -the world.” - -And the little insect does fend for itself. I see the new-born Bugs, -pressed close against one another, remaining for some days on the patch -of empty egg-shells. Their flesh grows firmer and their colouring -brighter. Mothers pass at no great distance: none of them pays any -attention to the drowsy company. - -When hunger comes, one of the little ones moves away from the group in -search of a canteen; the others follow; they love to feel shoulder -touching shoulder, like grazing Sheep. The first to move draws the -whole band after him; they make their way in a flock to the tender -spots where they insert their suckers and drink their fill; whereupon -all return to their native village, seeking a resting-place on the tops -of the empty eggs. These expeditions in common are repeated within an -increasing radius, till at last, having grown a little stronger, the -community, becoming emancipated, makes off and disperses, no longer -returning to the place of its birth. Henceforth each lives as he -pleases. - -What would happen if, when the flock is moving about, a mother were -encountered, slow-stepping as the sober Bugs so often are? The little -ones, I fancy, would confidently follow their chance-met leader as they -follow those among themselves who are the first to make a start. We -should then see something like the Hen at the head of her Chicks; -accident would give all the appearance of maternal solicitude to a -stranger quite indifferent to the mob of brats at her heels. - -The worthy De Geer, it seems to me, must have been deceived by such -meetings as these, in which maternal care played no part whatever. A -little colouring, by way of involuntary adornment, completed the -picture; and since then the domestic virtues of the Grey Bug have been -lauded in all the books. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE MASKED BUG - - -I met with this insect unexpectedly and in circumstances that hardly -seemed to promise an interesting discovery. A certain enquiry into the -spoilers of dead meat, an enquiry set forth elsewhere, [57] had brought -me to the village butcher’s. What will not one do in the hope of -securing an idea! The hunt after this rare quarry led me to the -workshop of the slaughterer, an excellent man, for that matter, who did -me the honours of his establishment to the best of his ability. - -I wanted to see not the actual shop, so hateful to look upon, but the -shed or what not in which the offal was collected. The butcher took me -to the garret, dimly lit by a dormer-window which was left open night -and day, in all weathers, to air the place. Continuous ventilation was -not unwelcome in that nauseous atmosphere, above all at the hottest -time of year, when my visit was paid. The mere recollection of that -garret is revolting to my senses. - -Here, on a stretched cord, some blood-stained sheepskins are drying; in -one corner is a heap of stinking tallow, in another are bones, horns -and hoofs. These rags and tatters of death answer my purpose capitally. -Under the shovelfuls of fat which I turn over, the Dermestes and her -grub are swarming by the thousand; Clothes-moths flit indolently to and -fro; and Flies with big red eyes keep on buzzing in and out of the -hollow bones that still hold a little marrow. I expected this -population, the habitual inmates of carrion refuse. But here is one -which I did not anticipate: On the whitewashed wall are certain black -patches of unsightly insects, gathered in motionless groups. Among them -I recognize the Masked Bug, or Masked Reduvius (R. personatus, LIN.), a -large Bug of some celebrity. There are nearly a hundred of them, -divided into separate flocks. - -The butcher watches me as I capture my discovery and put it into a box, -and is surprised to see me fearlessly handling the repulsive creature. -It is more than he would ever venture to do. - -“It comes and plasters itself against the wall,” he tells me, “and -there it stays. If I sweep it off, next day it’s back, as sure as fate. -I don’t say it does any harm. It doesn’t spoil my hides, it doesn’t -touch my fats. What does it come here for every summer? I don’t know.” - -“I don’t know either,” I reply, “but I shall try to find out; and, when -I know, I can tell you about it, if you’d like me to. It may have -something to do with the preservation of your hides. We shall see.” - -Behold me then, as I leave this offal-store, the shepherd of a -chance-met flock. They are not much to look at. Covered with dust, -black as pitch, flat, like the true Bugs that they are, standing -awkwardly high on their legs, lanky and skinny: no, they do not inspire -confidence. The head is so small that there is only just room for the -eyes, reticulated domes whose great prominence seems to indicate good -powers of vision by night. It is set on an absurd neck which looks as -though it had been strangled with a bow-string. The corselet is -jet-black, with burnished prominences. - -Let us turn it over. The beak is monstrous. Its base covers all of the -face that is not occupied by the eyes. It is not the usual rostrum, the -drill of the sap-sucking Hemiptera; it is a rude implement, an elbowed -tool, crooked like a bent forefinger. What can the creature do with -this barbarous weapon? When it is feeding I see a black thread, as fine -as a hair, issuing from the beak. This is the slender scalpel: the rest -is the sheath and the stout handle. This rude equipment tells us that -the Reduvius is an executioner. - -What sort of exploits can we expect from it? Stabbing and murdering: -actions of little interest, because of their frequency. But we must -make a considerable allowance for the unexpected; interesting details -sometimes lie dormant and spring up suddenly amid squalid surroundings. -Perhaps the Reduvius has in store for us facts worthy of record. Let us -try to rear him. - -His weapon, a stout yataghan, tells us that the Reduvius is a murderer. -What victim does he require? This is the rearing problem before us. It -so happens that some time ago I saw the dingy-looking Bug at grips with -the smallest of our Cetoniæ, so well-named the Pall-bearing Cetonia, -[58] because of her white spots on a black background. This accidental -observation sets me on the right track. I house my flock in a large -glass jar with a bed of sand, and as food I serve up the Cetonia -aforesaid, which is common in spring on the flowers in the enclosure, -but scarce at this time of year. The victim is very readily accepted. -Next day I find her dead. One of the Reduvii, with his probe implanted -in the joint of the neck, is working at the corpse and draining it dry. - -In the absence of Cetoniæ I fall back upon any sort of game suited to -the size of my boarders; and I find that any sort answers my purpose, -irrespective of the different entomological orders. The usual dish, -because it is the easiest for me to capture, consists of Locusts of -medium size, though they are sometimes larger than the consumer. Often, -too, for the same reason that he is easily obtained, it includes a -Forest Bug, Pentatoma nigricorna. In short, my charges’ diet does not -give me much trouble: anything will do, provided that the prey does not -exceed the powers of the assailant. - -I was anxious to witness the attack, but I never managed to do so. As -the big, prominent eyes of the Reduvius warned me, it takes place at -night, at unseasonable hours. However early my inspection, I find the -game lifeless, bereft of all power of movement. The hunter is feasting -upon his prey and lingers over it for some part of the morning. Then, -after many different applications of the probe, now at one point and -now at another, when the victims are completely drained of moisture, -the blood-suckers abandon the dead bodies, gather into a flock, and do -not move all day long, lying flat on the sand at the bottom of the jar. -On the following night, if I renew the victuals, the same massacres are -repeated. - -When the prey is a non-armoured insect, a Locust, for example, I have -sometimes noted pulsations in the victim’s abdomen. Death, therefore, -is not sudden and overwhelming; nevertheless, the quarry must be very -quickly made incapable of resistance. - -I have confronted the Reduvius with a big-jawed Decticus, a Platycleis -[59] five or six times the size of his executioner. Next day the -colossus was sucked dry by the dwarf as quickly as a Fly would have -been. A terrible stab had paralysed him. Where was the blow delivered -and how did it take effect? - -There is nothing to tell us that the Reduvius is a bravo versed in the -art of murder, acquainted, like the Paralysing Wasps, with the anatomy -of his victims and the secrets of their nerve-centres. No doubt he -drives his stiletto at random into any part where the skin is soft -enough. He kills by injecting venom. His rostrum is a poisoned dagger, -like that of the Gnat, but much more virulent. - -It is said, indeed, that the Masked Bug’s bite is painful. Wishing -myself to test its effects, so that I might speak with authority, I -have tried, but in vain, to get myself bitten. When placed on my finger -and pestered, the insect refused to unsheath its weapon. Frequent -handling of my specimens, without the use of tweezers, was no more -successful. On the evidence of others, then, and not from my own -experience, I believe the Reduvius’ bite to be a serious matter. - -It must be so, intended as it is to kill, swiftly an insect that is not -always devoid of vigour. To the victim surprised when asleep it must -mean the shooting pain and sudden numbness which the Wasp’s sting would -produce. The blow is struck here or there, at random. It is possible -that the bandit, once the wound has been inflicted, keeps his distance -for a while and waits for the limbs to cease kicking before sitting -down to devour the corpse. Spiders who have caught a dangerous prey in -their webs are wont to take this precaution. They withdraw a little to -one side and await the last convulsions of the fettered victim. - -Though the details of the murder escape me, I know how the dead insect -is exploited. I can witness the performance any morning, as often as I -wish. The Reduvius projects from the clumsy scabbard, crooked like a -fore-finger, a delicate black lancet, which is at once a probe and a -suction-pump. The implement is driven into any point of the victim’s -body, provided that it be covered with skin. Then comes absolute -immobility; the banqueter does not budge. - -Meanwhile the lancets of the sucker are working, sliding one against -the other, acting as a pump, imbibing the victim’s life-blood. In like -fashion the Cicada drinks the sap of her tree. When she has drained one -part of the bark, she moves on and sinks another well. The Reduvius -does the same; he drains his prey at several points. He goes from the -back of the head to the abdomen, from the abdomen to the neck, from the -neck to the thorax and the joints of the legs. Everything is done -economically. - -I watch with interest the tactics of a Bug exploiting his Locust. -Twenty times over I see him changing his point of attack and stopping -for a longer or shorter time according to the wealth encountered. He -ends up with a haunch, attacked at the joint. The barrel is emptied of -its juices until it becomes translucent. If the quarry’s skin is -diaphanous, the same degree of exhaustion may be perceived throughout -the body. Thanks to the action of the infernal pump, a young Praying -Mantis an inch long becomes transparent as a moulted skin. - -These blood-sucking appetites remind me of our Bed-bug, who makes -himself so obnoxious by exploring the sleeper, selecting a convenient -spot, leaving it for another and a more profitable, and again moving -on, until, swollen to the size of a currant, he withdraws at the first -glimmer of daylight. The Reduvius aggravates this method: he first -benumbs his victim and then drains it dry. Only the legendary vampire -of romance achieves a like degree of frightfulness. - -Now, what was the insect-sucker doing in a butcher’s loft? He certainly -did not find there the victims which I procure for him: Locusts, young -Mantes, Grasshoppers, Chrysomelæ, [60] all lovers of foliage and the -sunlight. These passionate lovers of open-air joys would never venture -into the dark and nauseating offal-store. What, then, do these black -squads clinging to the wall live upon? Such a crowd needs food, and -plenty of it. Where is it? - -In the heap of fats, of course! Here a Dermestes (D. Frischii, KUGEL) -[61] swarms promiscuously with her hairy larvæ. The supply is -inexhaustible, and it is probably that the Reduvii hastened hither -attracted by this abundance. Let us then change the bill of fare, let -us substitute Dermestes. - -I have just what is needed at my disposal without rushing off to the -butcher’s for a supply. In the garden, at this moment, supported on -reed tripods, there are certain aerial retting-vats in which Moles, -Snakes, Lizards, Toads, Fish and so on attract interminable visits from -the undertakers of the neighbourhood. The most numerous is a Dermestes, -precisely the same as the one in the tallow-loft. This is the very -thing I want. - -I serve this Dermestes to my Reduvii, I serve him up lavishly. A -frenzied massacre takes place. Every morning the sand in the jar is -strewn with corpses, many of which are still lying beneath the -murderer’s beak. The conclusion is obvious: the Reduvius kills the -Dermestes whenever the opportunity occurs; without having an exclusive -taste for this sort of game, he bleeds it, more or less eagerly, when -he comes across it. - -I shall communicate this result to the worthy fellow to whom I owe the -ingredients of this story. I shall tell him: - -“Leave them alone, the ugly creatures whom you see sleeping on the -walls of your loft; don’t drive them away with your broom. They are -doing you a service; they wage war upon the others, the Dermestes, who -are so destructive to hides.” - -It may well be that the abundance of Dermestes, an easy prey, was not -the motive which attracted the Reduvii to the butcher’s garret. -Elsewhere, out of doors, there is no lack of game, in great variety and -no less appreciated. Why do the Bugs prefer to gather here? I suspect -that they wish to establish a family. The laying-season cannot be far -away; and the Reduvius has come with the particular object of providing -food and lodging for her offspring. In fact, at the end of June I -obtain the first eggs in my jars. For a fortnight the Bugs continue to -lay abundantly. A few mothers, reared separately, enable me to estimate -their fecundity. I count up thirty to forty eggs for each mother. - -Here we no longer see the orderliness dear to the Forest-bugs, who -arrange their eggs on a leaf so methodically, in rows of beads. Far -from representing an extremely accurate piece of work, the Masked Bug’s -batch of eggs is strewn, clumsily, at random. The eggs are isolated, -adhering neither to one another nor to their support. In my -rearing-jars they are scattered over the surface of the sand. Granular -specks of which the mother has taken no care whatever, not even -troubling to fasten them anywhere, they roll hither and thither, at the -least breath of air. A plant is not more heedless of its seeds, which -go where the wind blows them. - -These greatly neglected eggs are nevertheless not without beauty of -form; they are oval, amber-red, smooth and glossy and about a -millimetre [62] in length. Near one of the ends there is a fine, dark, -circular line, marking a sort of cap. The Forest-bug’s egg has taught -us the meaning of this circle. It is the line along which the lid of -the casket will open. We have before us for the second time the tiny -miracle of an egg shaped like a casket, which, on hatching, opens -without breaking, by the fall of a little lid which is thrust back by -the tiny creature in the act of birth. - -If I can manage to see how the moveable cap is lifted, I shall obtain -the most interesting detail of the Masked Bug’s history; I shall have -the equivalent of the young Forest-bug bursting the ceiling of his -shell by means of a sharp-angled mitre actuated by the hydraulic -pulsations of the head. Let us stint neither time nor patience: the -exodus of a Bug from his egg is a most notable sight. - -If the problem has its attractive side, it also presents difficulties. -You have to be on the spot just at the very moment when the lid gives -way, which entails a wearisome vigilance. You also want plenty of -light; and it must be daylight, or the refinements of this very -delicate operation would escape us. The habits of the Reduvius give me -cause to fear that the eggs may be hatched at night: [And the future -will teach me only too well how fully my fears are founded.] No matter: -we will not give in. Perhaps fortune will smile upon me. And, lens in -hand, for a fortnight, at all hours, from morning to night, I keep -watch over a hundred eggs which I have divided among several glass -tubes. - -In the Forest-bug’s egg the approach of hatching is announced by a -black line in the form of a broad arrow, or reversed anchor, which -appears not far from the lid and is no other than the liberating -mechanism. The tiny beast covers its head with its pointed mitre. Here -there is nothing of the sort. From first to last, the Masked Bug’s egg -retains its uniform amber colouring, without any sign of an inner lock. - -Meanwhile, by the middle of July, the hatchings are becoming numerous. -Every morning I find in my tubes a collection of tiny open pots, -unbroken and amber-coloured as at the beginning. The lid, a concave -dome of exquisite accuracy, is lying on the sand beside the empty -egg-shell; sometimes it remains hanging from the edge of the orifice. -The young Bugs, pretty little snow-white creatures, are gambolling -nimbly amidst the untenanted pots. I always come too late; what I -wanted to see by sunlight is over. - -As I suspected, the opening of the lid is effected in the darkness of -the night. Alas, for want of sufficient light the solution of the -problem which interests me so greatly will escape me! The Reduvius will -keep her secret; I shall see nothing.... But yes, I do see something; -for perseverance has unexpected resources. A week full of failures has -already gone by, when, unexpectedly, in the brilliant light of nine -o’clock in the morning, a few late-comers suddenly begin to open their -boxes. Had the house caught fire just then, I doubt whether I should -have stirred a limb. The sight held me rooted to the floor. Let the -reader judge for himself. - -Unprovided with the thread-like rivets employed by the Pentatoma, the -Reduvius’ lid adheres to the shell by its mere position and a perfect -fit. I see it lifting at one side and hinging on the other with a -slowness that defies the magnifying powers of the lens. What is -happening in the egg seems to be a long and laborious process. But the -lid opens wider; and through the chink I see something glistening. This -is an iridescent pellicle, which protrudes, and, as it does so, pushes -back the lid. Now a spherical blister emerges from the shell, gradually -growing larger, like a soap-bubble blown from a straw. Pushed farther -and farther back by the expansion of this bladder, the lid falls off. - -Then the bomb explodes: that is to say, the capsule, inflated beyond -the limits of its resistance, bursts open at the top. This envelope, an -extremely thin membrane, usually adheres to the edge of the orifice, -where it forms a high white rim. At other times the explosion detaches -it and shoots it out of the shell. Under these conditions it is a -delicate goblet, hemispherical, with torn edges, and with its lower -part continued by a fine, twisted stem. - -It is finished; the thoroughfare is open. The tiny insect can now -emerge by bursting through the pellicle caught in the opening, or by -dislodging it; or it may find an absolutely free passage, when the -burst bladder has left the egg. It is all simply miraculous. To escape -from his box, the Pentatoma invented the three-ribbed mitre and the -hydraulic ram; the Reduvius has invented the explosive bomb. The first -goes to work gently; the second, a brutal dynamiter, blows the roof off -his prison with a bomb. - -With what explosive, and how is the liberating shell loaded? At the -moment of rupture nothing visible bursts from the bubble; nothing -liquid moistens the torn edge. The contents, therefore, were assuredly -gaseous. The rest escapes me. One observation, which I was unable to -repeat, is not enough in this delicate matter. Reducing it to mere -probabilities I will propose the following explanation: - -The tiny animal is wrapped in a tightly closed tunic which embraces it -snugly. This is a temporary skin, a sheath which the new-born larva -will shed on leaving the egg. This sheath is connected with an -appendage, a capsule placed under the lid. The twisted stem hanging -from the burst bubble when it is shot out of the egg represents the -communicating duct. - -Very slowly, as the little creature takes shape and grows, this -bladder-like reservoir receives the products of the respiration which -takes place under the cover of the tunic or “overall.” Instead of -dispersing outside, through the egg-shell, the carbonic acid gas -incessantly resulting from the vital process of oxidization accumulates -in this sort of gasometer, filling and distending it and pressing upon -the lid. When the little Bug is mature and on the point of hatching, -the increased activity of its respiration completes the inflation, -which has doubtless been proceeding ever since the earliest development -of the germ. At last, yielding to the increasing pressure of the -gas-filled capsule, the lid becomes unfastened. The Chick in its shell -has its air-chamber: the young Reduvius has its bomb of carbonic acid -gas: it releases itself by breathing. - -The singular hatching-processes of the Pentatoma and the Reduvius are -obviously not isolated cases. The egg with a removable lid must be -employed by other Hemiptera; it may even be that this is a fairly -general device. Each genus has its own methods of opening its box, its -own system of springs and levers. What a mechanism to find in the egg -of a Bug, and how fertile in surprises! What an interesting harvest to -be reaped, with patience and a good pair of eyes! - -Let us now watch the little Reduvius’ emergence. The lid fell off a few -moments ago. The tiny insect, white all over, comes forth, tightly -swaddled. The tip of its abdomen still remains within the opening, -which, with its rim of skin, the remnant of the bomb, serves it as a -supporting girdle. It struggles, swaying to and fro and leaning -backwards. This gymnastic exercise, increasing the creature’s -flexibility, is intended to undo the swaddling-clothes at the seams. -Sleeves, breeches, gaiters, shirt-front, cap: little by little the -whole is torn off, not without effort on the fettered pigmy’s part; it -is all cast aside and disappears in tatters. Behold the new-born insect -at liberty! It skips away to some distance from the egg. With its long, -fine, waving antennæ it interrogates space, enquiring into this mighty -world. Often, when the lid still adheres to some point of the opening, -it carries this bit away with it, on its back or its rump. You would -think it was going to the wars, bearing the umbo of antiquity, the -round, convex buckler. What does it want with this armour? Has it -seized upon it as a means of defence? Not at all. The cover of the -beaker happened to come into contact with it and at once stuck to it, -even firmly, for nothing short of the approaching moult will detach the -disk. This detail tells us that the little creature exudes a fluid -capable of acting as an adhesive in respect of any light objects -encountered on its passage—with what results we shall presently see. - -With shield on back or without this panoply, standing high on its legs -and sporting a long pair of horns, the new-born insect crosses the -threshold of the egg; it roams about in sudden fits and starts, -presenting the appearance of a minute Spider. Two days later, before -taking any food, it undergoes a moult. The gormandizer, once he has -eaten his fill, undoes a button to make room for the belated dainties -concluding the meal. The Bug, who has as yet eaten nothing, splits his -coat from top to bottom, throws it away, and puts on a new skin. He -even changes his belly before sitting down to table. He used to wear a -short, stumpy abdomen; he now has a plump, round paunch. The time has -come for feasting. - -A restaurant-keeper with no experience of the proper bill of fare, what -shall I provide? I remember a passage in Linnæus [63] touching the -Reduvius. The master says: - -“Consumit cimices lectularios huius larva, horrida, personata.” “Its -horrid, masked larva sucks the Bed-bugs.” - -This game seems to me out of proportion for the moment: the little -creatures in my jars, weak and tiny as they are, would never dare to -tackle such a quarry. There is another objection: the moment I want -Bugs, I am unlikely to find any. Let us try something else. - -The adult has eclectic tastes; it hunts the most varied prey. The larva -might well do likewise. I offer Midges. They are absolutely refused. In -the garret whence my flock originated, what could they have found that -was easily obtained, without scuffling, so dangerous at that tender -age? They would have found tallow, bones, hides, and nothing else. Let -us give them tallow. - -This time all goes well. My little creatures settle down on the fatty -substance, driving their suckers into it, drinking deeply of the -stinking olein, and then retire to digest their meal in the sand, -wherever they please. They thrive. I see them growing from day to day. -In a fortnight they are plump, and, what is more, disguised beyond -recognition. Their whole bodies, including the legs, are encrusted with -sand. - -This mineral bark began to form directly after the moult. The little -creatures became speckled with earthy particles, thinly scattered at -random. At present the envelope is continuous. Let matters take their -course, and this wrap will become a sordid overall. Then the larva will -really deserve the epithets which Linnæus bestows upon it: horrida, -personata, the horrible insect that dons a mask and wears a dusty -domino. - -Should it occur to us to regard this tatter-demalion costume as an -intentional piece of work, a ruse de guerre, a means of dissimulation -whereby to approach its prey, we may undeceive ourselves: the Reduvius -does not industriously make itself an overcoat; nor does it wear one -with the object of concealing itself. It all happens of itself, without -any sort of art, like the mechanism whose secret was revealed to us by -the lid of the egg, worn as a buckler. The insect exudes a certain -unctuous humour, derived perhaps from the tallow on which it feeds. To -this varnish, the dust through which it passes adheres without any -further trouble on the insect’s part. The Reduvius does not dress -itself; it dirties itself; it turns into a pellet of dust, a walking -bit of filth, because it emits a sticky sweat. - -One word more as to its diet. Linnæus, obtaining his information I know -not where, makes the Reduvius our auxiliary against the Bed-bug. Since -then, the books, monotonously echoing one another, have repeated the -eulogy; it is accepted as a tradition that the Masked Reduvius makes -war upon our nocturnal bloodsucker. This would certainly constitute a -magnificent claim on our gratitude. But is it really the truth? I take -the liberty of rebelling against tradition. That the Reduvius is -sometimes found slaying Bed-bugs is very likely: my own captives were -satisfied with Forest-bugs. They accepted them, however, without -clamouring for them; and they readily dispensed with them, seeming to -prefer Locusts or any other insects. - -Let us not then hasten to generalize and to look upon the Reduvius as a -licensed consumer of the stinking pest of our beds. I see an important -objection to this special vocation. Comparatively large in size, the -Reduvius could not slip into the narrow chinks that shelter the -Bed-bug. A fortiori, to track the Bed-bug to its lair is impracticable -for the larva, hampered by its overcoat of dust, unless it invade our -beds at the time when the other is running over us and selecting its -morsel. Nothing justifies our presuming this intimacy with the sleeper; -no one, that I know of, has surprised the Reduvius or its larva in the -act of investigating our beds. - -The masked larva does not deserve to be extolled for a few accidental -captures. Its diet is quite different from what Linnæus tells us and -the compilers keep on repeating. In its infancy it feeds on fatty -matters, as my rearing-experiments prove. When it grows big it varies -its victuals with insects, of no matter what order, as does the adult. -For it a butcher’s garret is an abode of bliss, where it finds a supply -of fats, and, later, Flesh-flies, Dermestes, and other insects that -batten on dead things. In the dark and ill-swept corners of our houses -it gleans the particles of fat that fall from our kitchen-table; it -catches unawares the drowsy Fly, the small, homeless Spider. This is -enough to ensure its welfare. - -Here is one more tradition to be deleted from our books, without much -injury, however, to the insect’s reputation. If the Masked Bug ceases -to appear in history as the executioner of the Bed-bug, it will -henceforth cut a more respectable figure as the inventor of the box -that is opened by the explosion of a bomb. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE TEREBINTH-LOUSE: THE GALLS - - -For curious methods of generation, the Plant-lice bear the palm. -Nowhere shall we find anything to beat them unless we pry into the -secrets of the sea. We must not look to them for remarkable feats of -instinct. The humble, round-bellied Lice are incapable of such -achievements; to these stay-at-homes the lifting of a foot spells an -excess of emancipation. But they will tell us by what attempts, -bewildering in their energy and variety, the universal law that governs -the transmission of life has come into being. - -I shall consult the Terebinth-lice by preference. They are near -neighbours of mine, a condition essential to frequent visits; they -practise an industry, which is a not uninteresting addition; and they -are crowded into sealed enclosures where we can follow the progress of -the family without too much confusion. - -The shrub that feeds them, the terebinth, or turpentine-tree, abounds -on the Sérignan hills. It is sensitive to the cold, a lover of stony -wastes scorched by the sun. Its insignificant flowers are succeeded by -pretty bunches of little berries, first pink, then blue, smelling of -turpentine and beloved by the Redstart when migrating in autumn. - -Any one seeing it for the first time, unless conversant with its -history, might think that it bore yet another crop of fruit, quite -different from that of the berries. On the tips of the boughs, singly -or in bunches, are certain twisted horns, a fairly good imitation of -certain pimentos, if the coral-red of maturity were replaced by a -straw-yellow washed with rose. What is more, mimic apricots, fresher -and more satiny than those of our orchards, are seen hanging from the -leaves. Tempted by appearances, we open these deceptive productions. -Horror! The contents consist of myriads of Lice, swarming about in the -midst of a floury dust. - -Pilgrims to the Holy Land tell us that on certain bushes in the -neighbourhood of Sodom beautiful-looking apples may be gathered, which -are full of ashes within. The pretty apricots and cornute pimentos of -the terebinth-tree are the apples of Sodom, the Dead Sea fruit. Beneath -an attractive exterior, they too contain nothing but ashes, live ashes, -a wriggling whirl of dusty vermin. These are excrescences, galls, in -which the opulent family of the Plant-lice lives isolated from the -outer world. - -To follow the progress of these strange productions I needed a -terebinth which I could inspect often and in comfort. I happen to have -one a few steps from my door. When I was stocking the enclosure with a -certain amount of woody vegetation, I conceived the happy thought of -planting a terebinth. A profitable tree, yielding acceptable fruit, -would have died in this ungrateful soil; but this, which is good for -nothing but firewood, is prospering excellently. It has grown into a -magnificent specimen; and year after year it never fails to be covered -with galls. So here I am, the fortunate possessor of a tree full of -Lice. Let us call it by its Provençal name: lou Petelin, or lou -Pesouious, the lousy one. - -Scarcely a day passes but I give it a glance, attracted as I am by the -daily happenings in the enclosure. Let us examine it closely. The -“lousy one” has its merits: it is the depository of interesting -secrets. In winter it is bare. With the foliage the wigwams of Lice -have disappeared, though towards the end of the summer they were -weighing it down with their numbers. Nothing is left but the -horn-shaped shells, now black and dilapidated ruins. - -What has become of the vast population of the bush? How will it recover -possession of its terebinth? In vain I inspect the bark of the trunk -and branches and twigs: I see nothing capable of explaining the coming -invasion. Nowhere are there any lice in a state of lethargy, nowhere -any eggs awaiting the spring hatching. Nor are there any in the -neighbourhood, nor, in particular, in the heap of dead leaves rotting -at the foot of the tree. Yet the tiny creature cannot come from a -distance: a mere atom, as I see it in imagination, does not go -wandering across country. It is certainly on the tree that feeds it; -but where? - -One day in January, weary of my futile search, it occurs to me to strip -off, in shreds, a lichen, the Wall Parmelia, which here and there -carpets thinly with its yellow rosettes the base and the thicker -branches of my terebinth. I examine my harvest through the lens, in my -study. What is this? - -A magnificent discovery! In my scrap of lichen, no larger than a -finger-nail, I discover a world. On the inner surface, in the winding -crevices between the scales, are encrusted vast numbers of tiny red -bodies barely a millimetre [64] in length. Some of them are entire and -oval in shape; some, truncated and empty, display open pouches with -pointed ends. All are plainly segmented. - -Can it be that I have before my eyes the Louse’s eggs, of which some -are old and empty, while others are recent and contain their germ? This -idea is soon disposed of: an egg has not this segmentation like that of -an insect’s abdomen. Here is a more significant fact: a head and -antennæ are visible in front, while legs may be seen underneath; the -whole is dry and brittle. These specks, accordingly, once lived and -walked. Are they dead now? No, for when I crush them with the point of -a needle traces of moisture gush forth, a sign of a living organism. -Only the shell is dead. - -The tiny creature, capable at first of movement, endowed with legs and -antennæ, wandered for some time under cover of the lichen; then, before -it became inert, it settled down on a suitable spot. There it turned -its shrivelled skin, now an amber-coloured pellicle, into a mummy’s -sarcophagus in which the organism makes ready for a new life. When the -time comes, we shall discover the origin of this curious object, which -was an animal and now deserves the name of egg. - -What my own familiar terebinth has shown me in the enclosure, I ought -to see repeated in the open country. Sure enough, I do see it; but this -time it is not under lichens, for the bark of the tree is most often -bare. There is no lack of other shelter. Some twigs of terebinth have -been cut by the clumsy bill-hooks of the brushwood-gleaners, leaving a -ragged section. The wood is split into deep fissures; the loose bark -comes away in tatters. Once dry, these ruins are a mine of wealth. - -In the narrowest crevices, in the cracks of the wood and under the -splintered bark, there are great numbers of the atoms that interest me -so greatly. To judge by their colour there are at least two kinds. Some -are red; the others are black. These latter were scarce under the -lichens on my terebinth; here they predominate largely. I collect some -of both kinds. And now we must have patience. I have hopes that the -answer to the riddle will be found. - -Mid-April comes and the little glass tubes in which I store my animal -seeds are full of life. The black germs are the first to hatch; a -fortnight later the red ones follow suit. The epidermic boxes undergo a -process of self-mutilation, the front part falling off and leaving a -gaping void, without other change of form. A minute animal comes out of -them, a black speck in which the lens recognizes a very shapely little -Louse, bearing the regulation sucker pressed against its thorax. My -first thoughts were correct: the puzzling little red and black bodies -found under the lichens and in the cracks of dead wood were really -Louse-seeds. - -And these seeds, judging by their husks, endowed with a head and legs, -are little insects, first active and then inert and converted into -germs. The original, almost integral substance is reborn in another -shape. The little creature’s skin has provided the shell, the segmented -box, a jet-black or amber-yellow pellicule; the rest is concentrated -into an egg. - -The time has not come to observe the singular creature’s origin and -behaviour; chronological order forbids. Let us return to the vermin -issuing from these germs. They are tiny, tiny little black Lice, with -flat abdomens, plainly segmented and as it were granular. Assiduous -observation through the lens shows them to be dusted with a touch of -blue-grey powder like the bloom on a plum. Trotting with little steps -about their spacious prison, the glass tube, they seem uneasy. What do -they want? What are they looking for? No doubt, a camping-ground on the -friendly tree. - -I come to their assistance; I place in the tube a twig of terebinth -whose buds are beginning to open at the top of their scaly covering. -This is the thing they wanted. They climb up the twig, establish -themselves in the velvet that clothes the tips of the buds, and there -they settle, calm and satisfied. - -Direct observations made on the terebinth are accompanied, pari passu, -by laboratory experiments. The little black Lice, rare on the 15th of -April, are numerous ten days later. On the tip of a single bud I count -over twenty of them; and most of the buds are colonized, or at least -those that are largest and farthest from the ground. The occupants -remain hidden in the scanty down of the nascent follicles whose tips -are barely emerging. - -After a sojourn of some days, when the leaves begin to appear, each -insect makes for itself a private dwelling. It exploits, with its -sucker, a leaflet whose tip turns purple, swells up and curls over, -and, bringing its edges together, forms a flat pocket with an irregular -opening. Each of these pockets, about the size of a grain of hemp-seed, -is a tent in which a black Plant-louse takes up her residence: one -only, never more. - -What will the little Louse do in her isolated retreat? Feed, and, above -all, multiply. If one is to become legion a few months hence, matters -brook no delay. Here, then, there is no father, a mere superfluity and -waste of time. So many Lice, so many mothers; no more is needed. Nor is -there any laying, for the egg would take too long to develop. Nothing -short of direct procreation, unfettered by any preliminaries, is -acceptable to the Louse’s ardour. The young are born alive and like -their mother, except in point of size. - -As soon as they are brought into the world, they insert their suckers, -absorb a little sap, increase in size, and in a few days become capable -of continuing the race by the same rapid method, without fathers. Until -the end of the annual colonization the offspring, including the -remotest degrees of descent, will maintain the process of genesis by -direct parturition and will know no other method. When the time has -come for a more convenient examination, we shall return to this amazing -method, which completely upsets our ideas. - -On the 1st of May I open some of the purple swellings which have formed -on the tips of the burgeoning leaflets. Sometimes I find the maker of -the capsule alone, just as she was on the tips of the buds; sometimes -she has undergone a moult and is accompanied by the beginnings of a -family. After discarding her black slough, she has become greenish, -corpulent and lightly dusted with flour. Her youngsters, at the moment -one or at most two, are brown, slender and bare-skinned. - -In order to follow the progress of the family, I place under a glass a -couple of capsules which so far contain only the founder. Two days -later I have a dozen young Lice, who soon desert the natal pocket and -make for the cotton-wool closing the glass tube. This hasty migration -indicates that the young Lice have their function elsewhere, on the -tender, already unfolded leaves. Detached from its fostering support, -the little purple cell dries up and its inhabitant dies. My census can -no longer be continued. No matter: I have learnt that one day is enough -to produce three births. If this birth-rate persists for a fortnight, -the maker of the capsule will have brought forth a handsome family, -gradually scattered over the wide field of exploitation offered by the -terebinth. - -A fortnight later the red eggs hatch out, when the young twigs are -already shooting and unfolding their leaves. As far as I could judge -from my highly unreliable observations of these swarming insects, which -are not clearly distinguishable one from the other, the later -generation begins as did the earlier. It causes purple nodules to -appear on the tips of the leaflets, little wallets similar in shape and -size to a grape-stone. Like those already mentioned, these cells are -inhabited at first by a single Plant-louse. - -In both cases the rage for rapid multiplication is the same. The -recluses soon produce offspring, who desert the natal shelter and -proceed to settle elsewhere as colonists. At last, its flanks drained -dry, the viviparous little insect dies in its withered arbour. - -How many were they, coming from under the lichens and climbing to the -assault of the terebinth? There were thousands of them; and this -multitude is not enough. Hastily each Louse attacks her leaflet with -her beak; she makes herself a lair out of its swollen tip and -immediately gives birth to other Lice, multiplying ten- or perhaps a -hundredfold in this invasion of the innumerable. The tree has now its -full number of colonists, all capable of founding populous tribes. - -Are we to regard them as different branches of the same trade union, of -the same family, exploiting the terebinth in various fashions, -according to the point attacked? We hesitate to regard them as -strangers to one another, when they are employed on the same work; yet -there are significant reasons for concluding that we have here a -duality or multiplicity of species. - -Besides the disparity of the work accomplished, there is, at the -outset, one distinctive feature: the colour of the eggs, of which some -are black and others red. These vividly contrasted hues must correspond -with independent ancestries. It is even possible that a patient -examination, capable of analysing this minute object, would find -differences in husks of the same colour. All my own searches beneath -patches of lichen and in the crevices of dead wood end in nothing more -than the discovery of two sorts of ovular carapaces but of two only, at -least to judge by appearances; and yet on the tree we shall find five -categories of workers who, though resembling one another, build very -dissimilar structures. If there are no other germs, germs which have -escaped my careful observation, it would seem, therefore that the eggs -have different contents under an identical shell, whether black or red. - -Lastly, the configuration, that essential characteristic of the -species, displays, in late autumn, very emphatic differentiating -features. Up to this late season, the inmates of the galls of every -form are so much alike that it is impossible to distinguish them one -from another once they are taken from their dwellings. When the final -exodus comes, at the close of the year, a generation makes its -appearance which differs greatly from its predecessors, giving final -proof of multiple species, to the number of five. - -Their generic name is Pemphigus, which is to say, bubble, capsule, -bladder. This scientific name is well deserved. The Terebinth-lice and -some others that pursue similar callings, living on the elm and the -poplar, are, in a word, artificers of swellings: by the incessant -tickling of their suckers they cause the formation of hollow -excrescences, which are at once board and lodging to the community. - -On the terebinth, the simplest of these dwellings consists of a lateral -fold of the leaf, the edge of which is turned back over the upper -surface and fastened to it without losing its green colour. This hem -gives a very low-roofed dwelling: the floor and the ceiling meet. -Therefore, being unduly confined, the family is not numerous. The timid -maker of these green hems bears the name of Pemphigus pallidus, DERB. -She is called pale because she has not the knack of painting her house -purple. - -Elsewhere the lateral fold, still turned over the upper surface of the -leaf, grows much thicker, swells with fleshy tissue, develops wrinkles, -assumes a crimson hue and becomes a short, hollow, spindle-shaped -growth. This home, a fairly successful imitation of the seed-pods of -the peony and the larkspur, belongs to the Pemphigus follicularius, -PASS. - -Elsewhere again the fold, which at first is made in the plane of the -leaf, is now bent down at right angles under the leaf, becoming an -ear-shaped appendage, a knotted, fleshy crescent, with a straw-yellow -as its prevailing colour. This is the work of the Pemphigus -semilunaris, PASS. - -The spherical galls take higher rank in the Plant-louse’s art. They are -smooth, pale-yellow globes, varying in size from that of a cherry to -that of an average apricot. They hang from the base of the leaves, -which, despite these monstrous bladders, retain their normal colour, -and, in all other respects, their normal shape. The insect which -inflates these pretty capsules is Pemphigus utricularius, PASS. - -But the most remarkable structures are the horn-shaped galls, truly -Cyclopean monuments compared with their minute builders. Some attain a -length of nine inches and are as thick as the neck of a claret-bottle. -Grouped in threes or fours at the tips of the upper branches, they form -barbaric trophies, twisted and fantastic danger-signals which might -have graced the brows of some Alpine Ibex. - -The other galls all fall off with the leaves; not a trace of them -remains on the tree in winter, and even these firmly cemented to their -bough, last for a long time. Only the protracted assaults of wind and -weather will destroy them completely. The base itself does not easily -disappear. Next year it is still in its place, but dilapidated and -reduced to the broken stump of a horn of plenty packed with the waxy -felt that clothed the population in the days of its prosperity. In -these palaces lived Pemphigus cornicularius, PASS. - -The purple pitchers of the first phase are provisional stations in -which the Lice prepare for wholesale colonization. Each of these humble -cottages has its Plant-louse from the foot of the tree. The solitary, -who was herself hatched from a germ, makes haste to give birth to live -youngsters, who gradually spread over the new leaves, and die. Then the -true galls come, the great cities which will provide room for several -generations. Here again, all the five classes of specialists between -whom we have discriminated set to work, all labouring independently at -the first filling out of the cabins. Mutual assistance will come later. - -May arrives; and already the simpler galls begin to grow: the lateral -folds which, bent back upon the edge, become so many green hems. -Beneath the awl of the black Louse, patiently pricking away at the -leaf, a narrow border curves inwards from the edge. The line of attack -measures a couple of centimetres. [65] When it has worked long enough -at this or that point, the tiny insect changes its place and goes -elsewhere to begin all over again, standing motionless while its -implement performs its functions. - -Now what is the atom doing thus to warp what would be flat under -natural conditions? Merely implanting its sucker. The prick of a -needle, however skilfully guided, would bruise the tissues without -affecting their form. The little insect must therefore instil a certain -virus, which provokes an exaggerated flow of sap; it injects an -irritant poison and the plant reacts by the swelling of the wounded -parts. - -And now the hem is growing wider, with a slowness that defies our -scouting: as well try to follow with the eyes the growth of a blade of -grass. It is now a slanting roof, a gaping fold. The Louse is in the -angle, at her post, doing her duty as a turncock. With her fine probe -she stimulates and controls the flow of sap. In twenty-four hours the -roof completes its descent, pressing tightly against the leaf. It is a -lowered trap-door; but the mechanism of the structure works with such -caution that the tiny insect, far from being crushed between the two -thicknesses of leaf, retains its liberty of movement and moves about -inside the fold as it would do in the open air. - -A curious instrument, the awl of the little black Louse! With our -modern machinery a child’s finger, applied to this or that lever, this -or that valve, sets enormous masses in motion. Similarly, the Louse, -with her delicate probe, sets powerful hydraulic machinery going and -trims the sails of a leaflet. She is, after her fashion, an engineer on -a gigantic scale. - -The spindle- or ear-shaped galls make their first appearance on the -edge of the leaves in the form of narrow crimson borders. Soon the -walls grow thicker and become gnarled and fleshy, expanding into -excrescences from which all green is excluded. - -How is it that the part of the leaf treated by the Louse is naturally -yellow and crimson, when, if simply folded, it retains its normal green -hue unimpaired? Again, how is it that in the one case the thickness of -the tissues is not increased while in the other it becomes augmented? -Why does the spindle keep to the plane of the edge, whereas the -ear-shaped gall, or auricle, abruptly bends its leaf and hangs -vertically? In all three cases, the implement is the same and the work -differs profoundly. Is it the effect of a virus whose properties vary -according to the sucker that inoculates it? Is it the result of a -change of method in wielding the awl? We are confounded. - -The problem becomes doubly obscure when we consider the spherical -galls. Here the original black Louse settles just at the base of a -leaf, on the upper surface, against the median vein. There she takes -her stand, motionless and patient. The point abraded by the awl is -hollowed into a tiny pit, which soon forms a small protuberance beneath -the underside of the leaf. As though its foothold were gradually -withdrawn, the insect dives and is swallowed up by a pocket whose -opening closes of its own accord by the contact of its lips. - -Here we have the Plant-louse at home, strictly isolated from the world. -Though the edge of the fostering leaflet undergoes no alteration of -shape or colour, the pitcher-shaped appendage at its base turns a pale -yellow and grows larger day by day, thanks to the centrifugal expansion -provoked by the insect’s irritant sucker. The continual punctures of -the solitary Louse and presently of her offspring will enlarge it, by -the end of the summer, to the dimensions of a fair-sized plum. - -The horn-shaped galls originate in an entire leaf, selected from among -the smallest. On the tops of the boughs there are sickly leaves, the -last achievements of an exhausted impulse. Scarcely unfolded and -innocent of green, the colour of health, they measure barely a fifth of -an inch in length. It is on these vegetable trifles that the enormous -horn-shaped structures are based; and even so the leaf is not -completely utilized, but only one of its lobes: in short, a speck, a -mere nothing. - -Exploited by the Plant-louse, this mere nothing acquires a peculiar -energy. In the first place, it welds itself to the tip of the twig and -becomes one with it, so that it lingers on the tree when the leaves -fall and, with them, the other galls; next, it excites a flow of sap -comparable with that of the pumpkin-stalk nourishing its fruit. The -very small begets the huge. The gall is at first a pretty little horn, -regular in shape and green all over. Open it. The interior is a -magnificent flesh-colour and soft as satin. For the moment, a solitary -Louse, a black one, inhabits this attractive residence. - -The five kinds of establishment have been founded, from the fold to the -horn; they have only to grow larger as their population increases. Now -what are they doing, these Lice immured in solitary confinement, each -after her own fashion? To begin with, they are changing their clothes -and their shape. They used to be black and slender, suitably built for -wandering over the budding leaves: now they adopt sedentary habits, -turn yellow and put on flesh. And now, with the sucker implanted on the -wall, which is swollen with turpentine, they quietly give birth to -their young. For them this is a continuous function, like that of -digestion. They have nothing else to do. - -Shall we call them fathers? No: the word would clash with the -expression “giving birth.” Shall we speak of them as mothers? Not that -either. The exact meaning of the word prevents us. They are neither one -nor the other, nor are they an intermediate form. Our language has no -term to describe these animal curiosities. We must resort to the plants -to acquire an approximate notion of the whole procedure. - -In our parts, the common garlic scarcely ever flowers: cultivation has -caused it to lose its sexual duality. It knows nothing of true seed, to -which the paternity of the stamen and the maternity of the pistil -contribute. Yet the plant multiplies readily enough. The underground -part begets its offspring directly, that is to say, it produces large -fleshy buds, gathered into a cluster of what is known as cloves. Each -is a living embryo plant, which, when buried in the soil, continues its -development and grows like the original plant. To multiply the garlic -in his kitchen-garden, the gardener has no other resource than that of -the cloves, the usual seed being here non-existent. - -Some plants of the same alliaceous group are even more remarkable. They -send up a normal stem, ending in what appears to be a spherical head of -blossom. Properly this head should blossom into an umbel of flowers. -But this is not what happens. There are no flowers whatever; they are -replaced by bulbils, a diminutive form of clove. Sexuality has -disappeared: instead of seeds, announced by the preparations for -flowering, the plant produces plantlets, concentrated into fleshy buds. -On the other hand, the underground part has a lavish supply of cloves. -Though the garlic is sexless, its future is assured; it will have no -lack of successors. - -To a certain extent, the genesis of the Plant-louse will bear -comparison with that of the garlic. The strange insect also puts forth -bulbils: that is to say, it is spared all ovarian delay and procreates -live offspring without assistance. - -The male is nobler than the female, says Lhomond. [66] This is a -pedantic formula, generally refuted by natural history. In the animal -kingdom, work, industry and ability, those true titles of nobility, are -the attributes of the mother. No matter: let us accept Lhomond’s -dictum; and, since we are allowed the choice, let us speak of the -Plant-louse as of the masculine gender, which is the nobler from the -grammarian’s point of view. For that matter, nothing shall prevent us -speaking of it as feminine, if our speech thereby gains in lucidity. - -Isolated in his cell, the original Plant-louse, we were saying, grows a -new skin and puts on flesh. He brings sons into the world, all of whose -beaks play their part in enlarging the gall, while all their bellies -are engaged in increasing the population. We are reminded of the -avalanche which, at first a mere lump, becomes an enormous mass of -snow. - -When summer is over, in September, let us open a gall, no matter which, -spread out the contents on a sheet of paper, take up a -magnifying-glass, and see what there is to see. Folds, spindles, -auricles, globes and horns afford us almost the same spectacle, -allowing for numbers, which are here restricted and there enormous. The -Lice are a magnificent orange yellow. The largest have stumps on their -shoulders, the rudiments of wings to be. - -All are clad in an exquisite cloak, whiter than snow, which projects -some distance behind them, like a train. This finery is a waxy fleece -exuded by the skin. It will not bear the touch of a camel-hair brush; a -breath destroys it; but the Louse despoiled of it will soon sweat out -another. In the crowded gall, where so many individuals are huddled -together, jostling one another, the waxen garment is often torn to -shreds and pulverized. Hence a collection of floury rags, forming the -downiest of beds, in which the tribe lie about. - -Mixed higgledy-piggledy with the orange Lice we see others, much less -numerous but easily detected. They are smaller, and are sometimes a -rusty-red, sometimes a fairly bright vermilion. Always stocky and -wrinkled, they are, according to the age and the pattern of the gall, -either round as a Tortoise or shaped like a triangle with rounded -corners. On their backs, they carry six to eight rows of white tufts, a -waxy exudation, like the white smocks of the others. An attentive -examination with the magnifying-glass is needed to detect this detail -of their costume. They never sport the wing-stumps which the others -acquire sooner or later. - -One last characteristic, more important than all the rest, places these -pigmies in a category completely by themselves. From time to time I see -on their backs a monstrous protuberance which mounts as high as the -neck and doubles the creature’s bulk. Now this hump, which is here -to-day and gone to-morrow, only to reappear later, is the conjurer’s -wallet containing the future. When I manage to open one, without -mishap, with the point of a needle, I extract from it a slimy speck -displaying two black eye-spots, with traces of segmentation. My -Cæsarean operation has laid bare an embryo. - -I reserved the right to pass, grammatically, from the masculine to the -feminine gender. And this is the time to do so. I isolate a few of the -hunch-backed squaws in a small glass tube, with a scrap of gall. They -give me young ones; and the humps disappear. The observation, -unfortunately, cannot be continued: the scrap of gall withers and my -specimens die. None the less it is now established that these pigmy -Lice are mothers and that they carry knapsacks on their backs as -incubating pockets. - -The little red tortoises found in all the galls in the late summer are -therefore as prolific as the famous old woman who lived in a shoe: they -alone bring forth young. All around them swarm their descendants, fat -orange babies, who deck themselves in snow-white furbelows, suck the -sap, distend their stomachs and prepare to grow wings in view of an -approaching migration. - -Are the hunch-backed mothers all the immediate daughters of the black -Louse, the founder of the gall, or do they form a lineage at various -removes? The latter seems probable in the horn-shaped galls, where the -mothers are so exceedingly numerous. A single origin would not account -for this prodigality. As for the other, far less thickly-populated -galls, it seems to me that a single generation of red Lice would be -sufficient. - -Let me mention a few approximate figures. In the first week of -September I open a horn-shaped gall, selected from among the largest. -It measures eight inches in length by nearly an inch and a half in -thickness at its greatest diameter. The population consists mainly of -orange Lice, plump, smooth, and endowed with wing-stumps. These are the -progeny of the tiny mothers. These latter are scarlet, stocky and -wrinkled, with their fore-part tapering and their hinder-part as if it -were cut off short, so that their shape is almost triangular. As far as -I can judge in the confusion of such a multitude, they should number -some hundreds. - -To estimate the whole population, I pack it into a glass tube eighteen -millimetres [67] in diameter. The column thus formed occupies a height -of 56 millimetres. [68] The volume, therefore, amounts to 16,532 cubic -millimetres. [69] Therefore, allowing one Louse, roughly, to each cubic -millimetre, the population of the gall is about sixteen thousand. As I -cannot count, I gauge. Even so did Herschel [70] gauge the Milky Way. -For numerical infinity, the Louse vies with the star. In four months -the black atom, the first pioneer of the gall, has left all these -descendants; and the end is not yet. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE TEREBINTH-LOUSE: THE MIGRATION - - -By the end of September the horn-shaped gall is full, almost as full as -a keg of anchovies. There would not be room for them all were the Lice -to form only one layer, side by side, with their suckers implanted. -They lie in strata according to the length of their probe: uppermost -are the big Lice, in the second layer the medium-sized and between -their legs the small ones, all of them motionless, with their trunks at -work. Above those engaged in drinking is the shifting horde, seeking a -place at the refreshment bar. Eddies occur in the crowd: those at the -top dive down, those underneath return to the surface; and this -continual ebb and flow gives each one time for a little tippling. - -In this rough and tumble the white waxen finery turns to flour, which -fills up the interstices and makes of the whole a swarming conglomerate -in which the metamorphosis is effected. Here, without a moment’s quiet, -the moult takes place and not a leg is out of joint: here, when there -is no free space, wide wings are unfurled and not a wing is torn. To -achieve transfiguration without a hitch in such a tumult the insect -must be peculiarly favoured by fortune. - -The pot-bellied orange Lice are now handsome, black, slender midges, -provided with four wings. Their secluded life is over; the time has -come for soaring in the open air. But how will they get out? The -internees are quite incapable of making a breach in the ramparts: they -have no tools. Well, what the prisoners cannot accomplish the fortress -itself will do. When the population is ripe the gall is ripe too, so -closely does the calendar of the bush synchronize with that of the -insect. - -The hems raise their upper folds a little; the spindles open like so -many purses, each lined with pink satin; the auricles part their thick -gnarled lips. The doors open of themselves for the impatient inmates, -by the mere action of the sap. In the other galls, the globular and -horn-shaped ones, the mechanism does not work so easily; the unclosing -is a violent affair. More and more distended day by day, the globes -burst their sides in star-shaped rents, while the horns split open at -the top. - -The exodus is worth close observation. I choose a few of the -horn-shaped galls whose cracked tips announces the coming rupture. I -expose them to the sun, in my study, facing a window, at a distance of -a few paces from the closed casements. In the intervening space I set -up a thick branch of leafy terebinth. I reckon upon this bait to -attract the flying Lice, at least as a resting-spot. Next morning one -of the horns opens, and by midday, in radiant sunlight, in calm, hot -weather, the winged Lice are emerging. - -They come forth in small companies, without hurrying. It is a quiet, -gently-flowing stream. They are dusted over with a waxy flour, all that -remains of the sometime powder-puffs. When barely on the threshold of -the cranny, they spread their wings and are off, shedding a faint trail -of dust from their shoulders, shaken by the vibrations of their wings. -With an undulating flight they all make straight for the window, where -the light is brighter than elsewhere. They dash against the panes and -slip down upon the cross-bars. There, bathed in the sunlight, without -attempting to go further afield, they remain, collecting in a drift. - -Although the rest of the room is thoroughly well lit in all directions, -the flight of the departing Lice is always directed towards the window -facing the sun. There are thousands upon thousands of them; and not one -takes another path, veering ever so little to the right or left. You -feel a certain surprise at the invariable route pursued by these atoms -which, when released, in a space well lit on every side, all, from the -first to the last, rush towards the delights of a ray of sunshine. A -handful of shot dropped from a height does not return to earth with -greater certainty. The leaden pellets are attracted by gravity, to -which all dead matter is subject, while the specks of living matter -obey the light. - -My window-panes check them. In the absence of this obstacle, where -would they go? Certainly not to the terebinth-trees near by. I have -definite proof of this here, before my eyes. As a resting-place I have -set up a bough of the cherished bush. None of the newly emerged insects -takes notice of it; none of them pauses there. If on the way to the -window one of them collides with the green thicket and falls upon a -leaf, it quickly picks itself up again and makes off in a hurry to join -the others in the sunlit window. Freed henceforth from the demands of -the stomach, they are no longer interested in the terebinth; they all -avoid it. - -The exodus lasts a couple of days. When the last loiterers have gone, -let us open the gall entirely. The population has been rigorously -sorted. At first it was a mixture of wingless red and winged black -Lice. The latter have all left their dwelling; the others are still -there. Those faithful to their home are small as before, squat, -wrinkled and vermilion. Some of them bear the dorsal wallet, the -maternal pouch. In them I recognize the legion of the mothers, now left -alone in the house. For some time yet they linger on languidly, the -gall being open to wind and weather; those less exhausted continue to -produce offspring; mere abortions without a future; the time is too -short and the house is falling into decay. At length they perish, with -their belated young. The gall is a deserted ruin. - -Let us return to the emigrants, checked in their flight by the -window-panes. In shape, colour and size they are all alike; the swarm -is a monotonous repetition of the same individual; there is not one -detail, however minute, to denote any difference. Yet we should expect -to find males and females here. The Plant-louse, until this moment in -the humble larval stage, has just acquired the attributes of the -perfect insect. The heavy, pot-bellied Louse has become a slender -midge, glorified by four iridescent wings. In any other insect this -would be an infallible token of the nuptial frolics. - -Well, in the children of the galls, these wings, these adornments of -maturity, belie their promises. There is no wedding and there can be -none. Not a Louse in all the swarm is endowed with sex, and yet each -has her brood, which she brings into the world by direct reproduction -as her predecessors did. - -With a slip of straw moistened with saliva I pick up a winged Louse at -random. I press its abdomen with a pin. My brutal obstetrics produces -an immediate effect: the insect’s outraged flanks eject a string of -five or six fœtuses; and the process is repeated without variation no -matter what specimen we deliver. - -Let us, for that matter, consult the natural procedure. A couple of -hours elapse and my prisoners behind the window are in the throes of -childbirth on the glass of the panes, the plaster of the embrasure, the -wood of the cross-bars. Matters become so urgent that any place suits -them. - -The Louse in the act of parturition raises her two large wings, the -upper pair, and gently moves the two small ones, the lower pair. The -tip of the abdomen bends downwards, touches the supporting surface and -the thing is done: a fœtus is implanted perpendicularly to the support, -with its head uppermost. A little farther away, a second is deposited -as promptly, followed by another and yet others. In one brief sitting -the distribution is over. The average number of the litter is six. - -The infant, we were saying, is fixed in an upright position, at right -angles to the supporting surface. This nicely-balanced attitude is -necessary. The new-born Louse is, in fact, wrapped in a thin tunic of -which it must first of all divest itself. In a minute or two this -swaddling band splits and is thrust backwards. The legs release -themselves, kicking freely in all directions, which they could not do -were the tiny creature lying on the ground. By this means joints that -are working for the first time gain strength and suppleness. After a -few moments of these gymnastic exercises, the tiny insect drops on its -feet and wanders forth into the wide world. - -While it is struggling in an upright position, passers-by sometimes -knock it over, without consideration for its tender age. Then the -danger is great. Thrown from its sticky pedestal, the little insect -often perishes, incapable of casting off its slough. There are a few -threads of cobweb in the corner of the window. Some winged Lice have -been caught in them. The garlands of hanging Lice give birth to their -offspring all the same, but the young ones, falling on the sill of the -embrasure, cannot manage to strip, because they are not in a standing -position. - -Soon the cross-bars of the window are peopled with vermin, jogging -along with great activity, promiscuously with the winged Lice. What a -to-do on the borderland of the invisible! What are they seeking, these -busy atoms? What do they want? My ignorance will be their undoing. In -two or three days the winged Lice die. Their part is played. That of -the children is beginning. For some time yet the latter wander about, -but at last nothing stirs at the window; the legion of Lice is dead. -Before sweeping them away with a camel’s-hair brush, let us give a -brief description of them. The new-born insects are pale green and -slender in shape. Their length is not far short of a millimetre. [71] -Nimble and standing fairly high on their legs, they trot about busily. - -The globular galls burst and the hems, auricles and spindles begin to -gape a little earlier than the horn-shaped galls, about the middle of -September. The five gall-makers of the terebinth all have the same -customs. After emerging from their open dwellings, all the adults, or -winged black Lice, give birth, within twenty-four hours, to a small -number of young, some five or six, as do those of the horn-shaped -galls. - -The auricles yield a dumpy Louse, wider behind than before and of a -dark olive colour. Her most remarkable feature is her sucker, which, -folded underneath the insect, sticks out behind, recalling after a -fashion a Grasshopper’s oviscapt. What can the puny creatures want with -this mechanism? It is a sword, a sabre. Held erect, the implement would -prevent any attempt at walking. To drive it into the food-plant, the -insect apparently hoists itself on its legs, which correspond in length -with the enormous probe. I should like to see this inordinate beak at -work. My captives refuse what I give them: leaves and fresh galls. They -lie huddled on the plug of cotton-wool which closes the tube. They have -business to attend to. They want to get away; but to what? - -Likewise squat of build, packed, not without a certain prettiness, into -the shape of miniature Toads, the Lice from the globular galls are a -pale yellowish brown, while those of the folded leaves are greenish -black. Neither the first nor the second have beaks of exaggerated -length. That extraordinary rostrum, which sticks out behind, and, when -at rest, resembles a caudal appendage, recurs in the young Lice from -the spindle-shaped galls; but this time the little creature is oblong -and its colour is pale green. - -Let us cut short these dry details. It is enough if we recognize that -these five fellow-guests of the terebinth are not of one race following -different trades, but separate species. If the earlier generations, -which all resemble one another, seemed to bear witness to a specific -unity, the family of the winged Lice testifies to the contrary. These -thickset insects and these slender ones; these bearers of the rostrum, -sometimes of normal length and sometimes fantastically prolonged into -the semblance of a caudal beak; these pale-green, olive-green, -light-yellow insects are obviously independent forms. - -A meticulous examination might find here preeminently all the -characteristic features of the five categories; but the reader, -repelled by prose descriptions, would soon turn the page. Let us pass -on. Let us leave the insect laboratory, with its jars and test-tubes; -let us go out of doors to see how matters come to pass under natural -conditions on the terebinth in the grounds. - -The galls, frequently inspected during the hottest hours of the day, -open before my eyes; the horns are splitting at the top, the globes are -opening their sides, the others are parting their lips. The moment the -fissure is wide enough the black emigrants appear, without haste, one -by one, in absolute composure, despite the fierceness of the sun. The -exodus was not accomplished with greater sobriety in the comparative -darkness of my study. For a few seconds they linger in the breach; -then, shedding a dusty trail from their floury backs, they spread their -wings and are off. Their flight, favoured by the least breath of air, -promptly carries them to a distance at which I soon lose sight of them. - -As a rule the exodus is partial, being distributed over several days. -When the whole swarm has disappeared there are still the wingless red -Lice, the hump-backed pigmies, the progenitors of the big migrants. -Some of them come to enjoy a little sunlight on the brink of the -aperture. They soon go in again. Others follow them; perhaps they too -are attracted by the brilliant sunshine. Then we see none at all. The -festival of the light is not for them. For a week or two longer they -lead a hand-to-mouth existence in the ruined gall, but their end is not -far off. The withered gall starves them and old age kills them where -they stand. - -So far there is nothing new: my laboratory experiments have already -shown me what the terebinth in the garden tells me. The window-panes -and test-tubes have even taught me more than the tree: they have -enabled me to realize the part played by the winged Lice. In the -liberty of the open air one fundamental detail of their story escapes -me, for parturition takes place at a distance, I do not know where. The -new-born Lice must be scattered everywhere, often at a considerable -distance, as the emigrant’s flight informs me. Shall I then not find on -the tree itself the little Lice with which my indoor observations have -made me familiar? Yes: and in circumstances which are worth recording. - -Let me recapitulate: to escape from their galls, strongly-built -dungeons without any outlet, the Terebinth-Lice have no means of -breaking through. Though very clever at tickling vegetable tissues and -making them swell into excrescences, they can do nothing with the walls -of their prison. When it is time to go, however impatient they may be -to get out, they must wait until the gall opens of itself, until the -horn, in particular, splits into jagged segments at the top and the -globe bursts open at the side. Until the fort is thus spontaneously -dismantled, there is no possibility of escape. - -Now it may happen that the winged population is ripe and ready to -increase and multiply before there is a breach in the wall, either -because the gall is not yet sufficiently distended, or because it has -dried up before its time and is henceforth unable to open. - -What do the captives do in the event of such a disaster? Precisely what -they would do in the open air. Their business cannot be postponed. When -the imperious hour has struck they bring forth their young, one on top -of another, in such a crush that it is hardly possible to move. For -good, or ill, the great task is accomplished. - -In this tangle of wings a-flutter in the midst of a waxy powder, this -skirmish of legs seeking equilibrium on an ever-shifting support, many -young Lice are trampled underfoot and injured, many are unable to strip -and shrivel into grains of dust. The majority, none the less, so -tenacious of life are they, contrive to escape in the swarming -confusion. - -Let us, in October, open a globular or horn-shaped gall which has dried -up without bursting. We shall find it crammed with black Lice, all -winged and all dead; a mass of procreators who have died after -parturition. Beneath the heap of corpses, more especially against the -walls of the dwelling, the lens, in amazement, discovers thousands of -young ones. This is a new people: it is the future struggling amidst -the cadaveric relics of the past; it is the progeny of the winged Lice, -the family born in prison. Here and there, in the midst of this -bustling youth, are vermilion-coloured specks, more awkward in their -gait but as lively as the rest. These are the grandmothers of the -colony, still doing fairly well and capable, I should say, of surviving -the winter. - -I have some hope of keeping them alive, they look so healthy. Perhaps -their part is not yet fully played. I set them aside, together with -their galls, opened with a penknife. If left to the inclemencies of the -weather in their ruined cells, they would die when the cold sets in; -but may they not hold out if sheltered under glass? I almost think they -will. - -And indeed at the outset things do not go so badly. My little red -insects continue to look in the best of health. Then, at the first -frosts, they become motionless, though still fresh in appearance as -though they meant to return to life in the spring. Appearances deceive; -the motionless Lice never move again. Long before April the whole herd -is dead. My care has slightly delayed the dissolution, without -preventing the inevitable end. None the less I marvel at the tenacious -vitality of the little red grandmothers. They live half the year, their -daughters but a few days. - -Released henceforward from the necessity of feeding themselves, the -black emigrants, the winged Lice, leave their terebinth and need not -search for another, as is proved by my bough, which, placed in the path -of the emerging insects, does not even serve them as a temporary -resting-place. They seem equally heedless in selecting a spot for the -establishment of their family. Before my window the young Lice are -dropped at random, at any point to which the hazards of flight have -led: on the window-panes, the plaster of the embrasure, the wood of the -cross-bars or the threads of cobweb indifferently. There is nothing to -show that the unfamiliar spot is regarded as inopportune. There is no -sign of uneasiness, no attempt to fly off elsewhither, to a more -propitious place. Soberly and serenely, the winged legion brings forth -its young and goes its way. - -In the open country things must happen no otherwise. The moment they -are free, the emigrants shake off their waxen dust and flit away in -this direction or in that, according to the prevailing breeze. A -flying-machine has sprouted from their shoulders, a remarkable contrast -to the clumsy paunch of their early days. Quick, for the sunlight, for -flight, for the joys of the ballet in mid-air! Off they go, hovering as -long as their feeble wings allow; then, wearied of merry-making in the -sun, they alight on the first object that offers, without henceforth -renewing their flight as do my prisoners behind the closed window. -Here, no matter what the nature of the site, parturition takes place. -There is nothing left for them but to die. - -With these urgent methods, disdainful of deliberate selection, the -wastage among the emigrants’ tiny offspring must be great. On the bare -soil, on stones, on dry bark, the little Lice undoubtedly perish. They -need food quickly; and they are scarcely capable of wandering in quest -of it themselves. Their sucker, sometimes of inordinate length, -projecting beyond the tip of the abdomen like a caudal rapier, demands -that the wearer shall erect it, shall drive it into some yielding -source of sap. The insect must drink or die. In the test-tubes wherein -I collect the young Lice born before my eyes, my captives die in less -than a fortnight from want of food. - -I try various kinds of green stuff. I have no success with any of them. -But here, if direct observation fails me, logic comes to my assistance. -There is no doubt that the tiny Lice, at the present moment the sole -representatives of their race, must live through the winter and serve -as the origin of the population which will occupy the terebinth in the -spring. These puny creatures cannot remain exposed to the severities of -the winter. A shelter is indispensable, a shelter that will afford them -both food and lodging. Where will they find it? Only one shelter is -possible: it must be underground, beneath some sort of grass that will -retain a little green in winter. - -It is, in fact, to be presumed that the thick tufts of certain grasses -will afford them shelter. This abiding-place, where the sucker will -sink into the sweet root-fibres, and where the drip of rain or snow -does not easily find access, is beloved by several Plant-lice. Those of -the terebinth also may very well take up their winter-quarters there. -As for what happens in these subterranean lairs, we are reduced to more -or less probable conjectures. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE DORTHESIA - - -After the exodus of the young, when she deserts her tent of swansdown, -half a finger’s-breadth in thickness, very warm and soft, but blocked -with rubbish which would hamper a second family, the Clotho Spider [72] -proceeds to fashion elsewhere a light hammock with a canopy, an -inexpensive summer-house where she will pass the remainder of the warm -weather. Those who are not yet marriageable ask no better protection -against the inclemencies of the winter; their robust powers of -endurance are satisfied with a muslin tent under the shelter of a -stone. - -The matrons, on the other hand, as the heat begins to decrease, hasten -to enlarge and strengthen their cells, lavishing upon them the contents -of their silk-reservoirs, which the hunting-expeditions of the fine -summer nights have left distended. When the sharp white-frosts set in -they will doubtless find more comfort in their luxurious mansions than -in the first rickety hovels; nevertheless, they do not build them -precisely for themselves but rather for the use of their expected -offspring; wherefore the walls are never stout nor the feather-beds -downy enough. - -The superb structure of the Clotho is above all a nest, beside which -those of the Chaffinch and the Siskin are but squatter’s huts. The -mother, it is true, does not sit upon her eggs, being as she is without -an incubator; she does not feed her offspring, who for that matter do -not require her assistance; but the part which she plays is, none the -less, one of exquisite tenderness. For seven or eight months she -watches over her brood, protecting it with a devotion equal to that of -the bird, or even greater. - -Maternity, the supreme inspiration of the noblest instincts, has -thousands upon thousands of masterpieces to bear witness to its skill. -Let us recall that of the Labyrinth Spider. [73] What a wonderful -achievement is the spacious building where the mother mounts guard -about the star-shaped tabernacle, the family cradle! What an eminently -logical stronghold is this rampart of silk reinforced by masonry, to -protect the eggs from the probe of the Ichneumon-fly! - -Similarly, each mother has her own defensive methods, which are -sometimes the most ingenious inventions and sometimes devices of -extreme simplicity. The strange thing is that the distribution of -talents takes no account whatever of the insect hierarchy. Certain -insects of the highest rank, protected by sumptuous wing-cases, or -sporting lofty plumes, or attired in garments of imbricated gold -scales, are almost or quite incapable of doing anything; they are -magnificent duffers, whereas others, among the very humblest, and -passing unperceived, amaze us by their talents when we grant them our -attention. - -But do not things happen likewise amongst ourselves? True merit shuns -indolent luxury. If we are to turn to the best advantage the little -good which may lie hidden within us, we must feel the incentive of -need. As long as nineteen centuries ago, Persius prefaced his satires -with the lines: - - - Magister artis ingenique largitor Venter. - - -One of our proverbs repeats his views in terms a little less crude: - - - L’homme est comme la nèfle; il n’est rien qui vaille - S’il n’amûri longtemps au grenier, sur la paille. [74] - - -Insects are like ourselves. Necessity stimulates their wits and at -times enables them to make discoveries which upset all our conceptions. -I know of one, amongst the humblest and least well-known, which, to -safeguard its progeny, has found the following strange solution of the -problem: at the laying-season, the normal length of the body is -trebled: the fore part is left at the service of the insect, which -feeds, digests, roams about and shares in the joys of the sunlight; and -the hinder part becomes an infant’s crêche, a nursery in which the -little ones are gently exercised. - -This singular creature is called the Dorthesia (D. Characias, Latt). We -find it from time to time on the Greater Spurge, which the Greeks used -to call Characias and which the Provençal peasant of to-day calls -Chusclo, Lachusclo. - -A lover of the climate in which the olive flourishes, this spurge -abounds on the Sérignan hills, in the driest spots, where its great -blue-green tufts contrast with the poverty-stricken vegetation of the -neighbourhood. Standing in a bed of pebbles which reflect the sun’s -rays upon it, by its vigorous foliage it protests against the hardships -of winter. Still, it is not devoid of prudence. When the foolish -almond-tree is already abandoning its shivering petals to the -north-east wind, the spurge, less hasty, continues to observe the -weather and keeps the tender tips of its blossoms rolled up -crosier-wise for protection. The worst frosts are over. Then, with a -sudden urge of sap, the stems swell with a milk that burns like hot -coals and the crosiers uncurl and straighten out into clusters of dingy -little flowers, at which the first Gnats of the year come to slake -their thirst. - -Wait a few days longer. As the weather grows milder, we shall see a -numerous population slowly emerging from the heap of leaves that have -fallen at the foot of the spurge. It is the Dorthesia quitting her -winter quarters under the remnants of the old foliage, and climbing, -gradually, by cautious stages, from the base to the topmost summits of -the plant, where the joys of heat and radiant light await her, together -with the delights of an inexhaustible feeding-bottle. - -In April, or at latest in May, the ascent is completed; all the little -creatures are assembled on the topmost tips of the branches, in -close-packed groups, side touching side, after the fashion of the -Plant-lice. A sap-drinker and endowed with a beak that acts as a -gimlet, the Dorthesia is, in fact, related to the Aphides, whose -sedentary and social habits she shares; but, far from reminding us in -appearance of the plump, naked vermin which the rose-tree and so many -other plants have made familiar to us, she is clothed, and her costume -is one of unusual elegance. - -The orange Terebinth-lice, imprisoned in galls, whether horn-shaped or -rounded like apricots, attach to their hinder parts a long train of -extreme delicacy, which the slightest touch reduces to dust. In the -Dorthesiæ, on the other hand, we see a complete garment, a -close-fitting coat of indefinite length, though fragile and breaking -off in particles under the point of a needle, just as a brittle rind -might do. - -Nothing could be prettier than the cloak of this large Louse, either in -shape or in colour. It is a uniform dead white, more pleasing to the -eye than even the white of milk. The forepart of the garment is a -jacket of curly knots arranged in four longitudinal rows between which -other, smaller knots are distributed. The hinder part is a fringe of -ten slats gradually increasing in width and spreading outwards, not -unlike the teeth of a comb. The breast is covered by a shirt-front -formed of symmetrical plates and pierced with six neatly-rounded holes, -through which the brown legs emerge, quite naked and unconstrained. -This shirt-front and the curly mantle on the back together form a sort -of sleeveless woollen waistcoat with easy-fitting armholes. In the same -way the hood is pierced by holes to give free play to the rostrum and -the antennæ. All the other parts are covered by the white cloak. - -This is the winter costume; it covers the whole body but does not -extend beyond it. Later, when the laying-season draws near, the garment -grows longer, as though the insect, which in reality cannot undergo -further change, were growing at a furious rate and trebling its length. -Gracefully curved like the prow of a gondola, the new portion is -furrowed above by wide parallel grooves; underneath it is finely -streaked, almost smooth. The end is cut off square. The -magnifying-glass here reveals a transverse button-hole plugged with -fine cotton-wool. - -The material of the garment is everywhere brittle, fusible and -inflammable; when laid on paper it leaves a slightly translucent mark. -From these qualities we judge it to be a sort of wax, similar to -beeswax. In order to obtain it in some other form than that of tiny -particles removed from the insect, I collect a handful of Dorthesiæ and -subject them to the action of boiling water. The waxen coverings melt -and dissolve into an oily liquid which floats on the surface; the -denuded insects sink to the bottom. On cooling, the thin floating layer -sets into an amber-yellow sheet. - -This colour causes us a certain surprise. We began with a substance -whose whiteness rivalled that of milk; and now melting gives it a look -of resin. This is a matter of molecular arrangement and nothing more. -To impart a proper whiteness to the yellow wax as it comes from the -hive, the wax-chandler melts it down and pours the melted substance -into cold water, thereby reducing it to thin flakes which he afterwards -exposes, on wattled screens, to the rays of the sun. Further meltings -follow, with a further production of shell-like flakes and further -exposure to the bright sunshine; and, little by little, the wax turns -white by changing its molecular structure. In this art of bleaching how -far our superior is the Dorthesia! Without treating the material by -repeated meltings and prolonged exposures to the sun, she then and -there transforms a yellow wax into one of incomparable whiteness. She -obtains by her gentle methods a result that eludes the violent -procedures of the laboratory. - -Like beeswax, the Dorthesia’s wax is not collected in the outer world: -it is a first product, exuded through the surface of the body. No -manipulation is required to induce it to form itself into curly knots, -to fall into uniform streaks or graceful flutings. Merely in exuding -from the pores of the skin, it automatically acquires the requisite -form; like the fledgling’s plumage, its clothing grows correctly by the -mere activities of the organism; the wearer of the dress has no need to -improve upon it. - -The tiny creature, when it issues from the egg, is perfectly naked, and -brown in colour. Soon, before leaving the mother and settling on the -bark of the spurge to draw its first sips, it becomes covered with -thinly-scattered white specks, which form the first outline of the -future jacket. By slow degrees these specks increase in number and are -produced into curly knots, so much so that the youngster, at the moment -of its emancipation, is clad like its elders. - -The exudation of the wax is continuous; the white tunic is constantly -growing larger and nearer to perfection. Therefore the insect, if I -cunningly strip it bare, ought to be capable of clothing itself anew. -Experiment confirms my expectations. Destroying her garments with the -point of a needle and brushing them off with a camel-hair pencil, I -completely denude a mature Dorthesia. The persecuted Louse comes forth -in her poor brown skin. I isolate her on a sprig of spurge. In two or -three weeks’ time the coat has been remade; not so full as the first, -but large enough and of the regulation cut. With the wax which would -have added to the original garment the insect has sweated forth -another. - -What is the use of this backward prolongation which trebles the actual -size of the body? Is it merely an adornment? It is much more than that. - -Let us, once April is here, detach and lay open this strange appendage. -It is hollow, and full of an incomparable downy wadding; no feather-bed -or eider-down could boast of so fine, so white a filling. In the midst -of this magnificent eider-down some ovoid beads are scattered, some -white and others tinged with a ruddy brown. These are the eggs. The -new-born insects are swarming amongst them, higgledy-piggledy; some are -bare and brown, some are more or less speckled with white, according to -the more or less advanced state of the coat. - -On the other hand, let us watch the Dorthesia idly roaming about the -spurge. At long intervals we shall see emerging from the orifice at the -end of the padded pocket a young Louse, handsomely clad, and nimble in -his movements, who chooses his place beside his mother and settles -down, plunging his bill into the juicy bark. He will not stir again -until the well is dry. Others follow him from day to day; and this goes -on for months on end! - -If we were guided only by these observations we should conclude that -the mother was viviparous, given to dropping, here and there, living -offspring, all ready dressed. Nothing of the kind: we have just found -in the thickly-quilted pocket both eggs and young. Moreover, the laying -and hatching of the eggs may be witnessed without difficulty. - -In a glass tube provided with a sprig of spurge I segregate a few -mothers whose terminal wallet I have removed. Laid bare, the insect’s -hind-quarters have no further secrets from us; I see, sprouting from -them, a sort of white mildew, like an unshaven beard. This is the waxy -secretion that sprouts from the insect’s hind-quarters, producing, -instead of tassels, filaments of extreme fineness. It is thus that the -down which fills the wallet must be produced. Presently, in the midst -of this tuft of down, an egg appears, like those which we obtained by -breaking into the maternal treasury. - -This method enables me to estimate the size of the clutch. Two -Dorthesiæ stripped bare behind and isolated, with provisions, in a -glass tube, produced, in thirteen days, thirty eggs, or fifteen apiece, -or rather more than one egg daily. As the process of laying continues -for nearly five months, the total number of eggs for a single mother -must be nearly two hundred. - -The eggs hatch in three or four weeks’ time. The hatching is announced -by a change in the colour of the egg, which from white becomes a bright -reddish-brown. On leaving the egg-shell the infant Louse is -reddish-brown and absolutely naked. Its appearance is that of a very -tiny Spider, the more so as its long antennæ look very like a fourth -pair of legs. Before long, four longitudinal rows of tiny white tufts -appear on its back, with bare spaces between them. This is the -beginning of the waxen mantle. - -The protracted period of egg-laying, which continues for four months or -more, the comparatively quick hatching, and, finally, the gradual -exudation of the Louse’s clothing, explain why white eggs and -reddish-brown eggs, with naked youngsters and others more or less -clothed, are found simultaneously in the maternal pouch. This pouch is -a warehouse in which the Louse’s eggs are collected for months -together. - -Inside the pouch, in the depths of its luxurious padding, the young -Lice are born, grow up, and clothe themselves in wax before risking the -dangers of the open. The mother gently carries them from twig to twig -of the spurge without troubling herself as to those that emerge from -her pouch. One by one, as they feel themselves strong enough, they -migrate, when their time has come, to settle down in the neighbourhood. -The exit from their home is always open; they have only to force their -way through the barrier of down. - -The Narbonne Lycosa carries her family about with much less tenderness -and security. There is no shelter on the back of the Gipsy Spider, no -safeguard against falls, which are frequent in such a scramble. The -Dorthesia, more happily inspired, makes a box of the skirts of her -mantle and a downy bed of her caudal tufts. To find an equivalent -method we must go back from the Spurge-louse to the first-born of the -Mammifers—Kangaroos, Opossums and others—who rear their young in a -pouch formed by a fold of the skin of the abdomen. Coming before its -time, the shapeless embryo fixes itself on the teat and completes its -development in the maternal pouch or marsupium. - -Let us make use of this term to denote the Dorthesia’s pouch. There is -a great similarity between the two wallets, although the insect is -superior to the mammal in this respect: Life often begins with -excellence in the lowly and ends with mediocrity in the strong. In the -original device of the marsupium a Louse has done better than the -Opossum. - -With the object of following the history of my insects more -conveniently than was possible under the blaze of the sun by the -roadside, I placed before one of my study windows a fine clump of -spurge transplanted into a capacious flowerpot. As a result of my -diligence the plant was populated during the course of March by three -or four dozen Dorthesiæ, all wearing more or less fully developed -marsupia. My experiment in the domestication of plant and insect was -extremely successful: the spurge did well, so its inhabitants prospered -also. - -The wallets became filled with eggs and then with young Lice, who, -matured in the nick of time, and more numerous every day, emerged and -spread themselves at will over the spurge. During the heat of the -summer you might have thought it had snowed on the plant, so populous -was the colony of white Lice. It contained thousands of new -inhabitants, varying in size and easily distinguished from the mothers -and foundresses by their smaller dimensions, but above all by the -complete absence of the marsupium, an addition which must develop very -much later, after hibernation at the root of the food-plant. - -Some are larger and others smaller, according to age, for the matrons -still continue to procreate, but all wear the same costume and present -the same appearance; yet certain differences, unnoticed at the time of -my summary examination, should divide them into two groups, one very -small, consisting almost wholly of exceptions, and the other forming -the vast majority. - -In August these differences become very plainly visible. On the tips of -the leaves, here and there, are isolated a few Lice who are surrounding -themselves with a fragile waxen enclosure, a sort of shapeless capsule, -while the rest of the flock, nearly all, in fact, continue to drink, -their bills plunged into the bark. Who are these solitaries, withdrawn -from the world of drinkers? They are males, undergoing transformation. -I open some of these fragile capsules. In the centre, on a downy bed -like that which fills the wallets of the mothers, lies a nymph endowed -with wing-stumps. At the beginning of September I obtain the first -males in their perfect state. - -Strange creatures, in truth! Standing high on their legs, with long -horns, they have the look of certain Bugs. The body is black and -powdered with a fine waxy powder, the remains of the capsule in which -the transformation took place. The wings are of a leaden grey, rounded -at the tips, overlapping one another when at rest and protruding a long -way beyond the extremity of the abdomen. To the rear is an aigrette of -white filaments, very long and straight, composed, no doubt, of wax, -like the cloak of the larval stage. It is a very fragile ornament: the -insect loses most of it merely in wandering about among the few leaves -in his glass prison, the tube in which I am observing him. - -In moments of elation the tip of the abdomen rises between the lifted -wings and the bundle of spokes spreads out fanwise. The insect is -showing off, erecting his tail, like the peacock. To glorify his -nuptials, he has attached a comet’s tail to his rump; he displays it -fanwise, closes it, opens it again, making it quiver and glisten in the -sunlight. When the crisis of joy has passed his finery is folded up and -the abdomen sinks down under cover of the wings. - -The head is small, with long antennæ. At the tip of the abdomen is a -short, pointed projection, a sort of hook, an implement of pairing. Of -mouth-parts or rostrum there is absolutely not a trace. What would he -do with them, this microcephalous coxcomb? He has changed his shape -only to flirt for a moment with his neighbours of the other sex, to -mate and to die. Moreover, the part which he fulfils does not seem to -be particularly necessary. On the spurge in my study the female -population of the second generation numbers several thousands, and I -obtain, in all, some thirty males. Approximately, there are a hundred -times as many females. The dandified wearers of the aigrette cannot -suffice for such a harem. - -On the other hand, they do not seem to be very eager. I see some who, -on emerging from the ruins of their capsule, covered with powder, brush -and wipe themselves a little, try their wings, and then, with a lazy -flight, make for the window, which is closed to prevent their escape. -The festival of the sunlight is to them a greater attraction than the -emotions of pairing. It is possible that the indifferent lighting of -the room is in this case the cause of their coldness. In the open -country, under the direct rays of the sun, they would certainly have -displayed their finery amidst the marriageable females, and the -business of pairing would not have lacked ardour. But even though the -most favourable circumstances had conditioned the pairing, the -exaggerated number of females, out of all proportion to the males, -tells us that very few are chosen among many that are called: roughly -about one in a hundred. Nevertheless, all produce offspring. With these -singular creatures it is enough that a few mothers are fecundated from -time to time, and the race continues to thrive. The impulse -communicated to the elect is a heritage which is handed down for some -considerable time, on condition that a few couples, year by year, -restore to the community its exhausted energies. - -A parasite frequently observed in Bee-hives, the Monodontomerus, has -already shown us a similar example of the rarity of the males. Two tiny -little creatures tell us of a vast field yet to be tilled by our -genetic theories. One day, perhaps, they will help us to unravel the -obscure problem of the sexes. - -Meanwhile the old mothers, the Dorthesiæ bearing the marsupium, grow -day by day fewer on the spurge. Their ovaries exhausted and their -wallets empty, they fall to the ground, where the Ants cut them to -pieces. On the plant only those young mothers whose maternal pouches -will not begin to make an appearance until the return of spring are -visible nearly till Christmas. When the cold becomes severe the flock -descends to the foot of the spurge, under the heap of dead leaves. They -will come up again at the end of March, slowly climbing the -spurge-plant, to acquire the rearing-pouch and begin once again the -cycle of evolution. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE KERMES OF THE OAK [75] - - -The nest, that notable expression of maternal skill and care, is -rivalled by other modes of rearing which often reveal the most -wonderful tenderness. The Lycosa drags behind her, hanging to her -spinnerets, the wallet of eggs that bangs against her legs; and for -half the year she carries about on her back her young, fore-gathered in -a serried group. In like fashion does the Scorpion nurse her offspring -on her back; for a fortnight she allows them to gather strength against -the moment of emancipation. Exuding a white wax, the Dorthesia -contrives at the tip of the abdomen an exquisite muff into which the -young are born, and in which they adorn themselves with cottony tufts -and peacefully grow ripe for the exodus. The downy refuge, with its -narrow opening, allows the secluded offspring to emerge, one by one, as -they become capable of settling down upon the fostering spurge. - -Lowly among the lowliest, the Kermes of the oak has invented something -even better: the mother, transformed into an unassailable fortress, -bequeaths to her family, as its cradle, her skin, toughened into an -ebony bastion. - -In May let us patiently examine, in sunny corners, the slender twigs of -the holm-oak or evergreen oak. Let us also inspect that cross-grained -shrub with small prickly leaves, known to the Provençal peasant as the -avaus, and to botanists as the kermes oak. This wretched brushwood, -which one can pass over in a single stride, is really an oak, a genuine -oak, as is proved by its handsome acorns, set in their rough, prickly -cups. We will gather our harvest here as well as on the holm-oak. But -we shall pass by the ordinary or English oak; we should find on it -nothing in the least like what we are seeking to-day. Only the two -species first mentioned will repay exploration. - -On these we shall see, a few here and a few there, but never in -abundance, certain globules of a glossy black, about the bigness of a -moderate-sized pea. Here we have the Kermes, one of the strangest of -insects. But is this an insect? Is it of the animal kingdom? The -uninitiated would never suspect such a thing; he would take the object -for a berry, some species of black current. The mistake is all the more -natural in that the globule, if bitten into, cracks, and yields a -sweetish flavour, offset by a slight bitterness. - -And this all but delicious fruit, we are told, is of the animal -kingdom; it is an insect. Let us look at the creature closely, through -the pocket microscope. We look for a head, an abdomen, and legs. There -is absolutely not a vestige of a head, nor of an abdomen, nor of legs; -all there is to be seen is a sort of large bead, fit for that cheap -jewellery which is made of jet. Is there not at least that division -into segments, which is the documentary proof of the insect? No! A -pebble is not more lifeless. - -Perhaps we shall find on the under surface of the globule, in the part -in contact with the twig, some trace of animal structure? The bead -comes away easily and without breaking, like a berry. The base is -slightly flattened and powdered with a white waxy substance which acts -as a cement and causes the bead to adhere to the twig. Soaked in -alcohol for twenty-four hours this substance dissolves and leaves -uncovered the part to be examined. - -Careful examination with the lens fails to reveal on the base of the -bead the legs, or claws, however minute, which would serve to establish -the fact of animal life. Nor does it reveal the sucker which, implanted -in the bark, would imbibe the sap, that indispensable aliment. Although -less smooth than the back, this portion is as bare as the rest. One -would say, in fact, that the Kermes adheres to the twig because it is -cemented to it, but has no other connection with it. - -This cannot be the case. The black bead feeds itself; it grows; and -without cessation it pours forth a product which might be the work of -the distiller. To make up for such expenditure it must at least possess -a rostrum to perforate the juicy bark. It assuredly does possess such -an organ, but so small that my worn eyes are powerless to detect it. - -At the very moment of detaching the Kermes from its support the -implement of suction may possibly withdraw itself, shrinking into -itself to the point of becoming invisible. - -In that half of the sphere which lies toward the base of the twig, the -globule is traversed by a wide furrow which occupies the greater part -of the half-meridian. At the lower edge of this furrow, on the confines -of the supporting base, is a narrow opening, in the shape of a -button-hole. By this opening only is the Kermes in touch with the outer -world. It is a gate which serves many functions, and first of all, that -of a fountain of syrup. - -Let us cull a few twigs of evergreen oak peopled by Kermes and place -the cut ends in a glass of water. The foliage will remain fresh for -some time—a condition which will suffice to ensure the insects’ -welfare. We shall see, ere long, a colourless, transparent fluid which, -in the course of a couple of days, collects itself into a drop equal in -volume to the flask from which it oozes. If it becomes too heavy the -drop falls, but without flowing over the Kermes, for the outlet is as -it were a postern gate. Another drop at once begins to form. The spring -is not intermittent, but perpetual; uninterrupted it sheds its solitary -tears. - -With the tip of the little finger let us gather this drop from the -still and taste it. Delicious! In taste and aroma it is very nearly -equal to honey. If the Kermes were to lend itself to wholesale rearing -as well as to the easy harvesting of its product, we should have in it -a valuable sugar-refiner. But it is for others to exploit it with the -needful diligence and devotion. - -These others are the Ants, those patient harvesters. They make for the -Kermes even more eagerly than for the Plant-louse or Green-fly. The -latter is niggardly in the matter of yielding its ambrosia; the Ant has -to solicit it with patience; tickling its paunch before she can obtain -even a meagre sip from the tips of its tiny horns. The Kermes is a -spendthrift. Fully consenting, and at any moment, it permits all comers -to quench their thirst from its cellar, and its liquid largesse is -offered in streams. - -The Ants, therefore, crowd about the distillery; they form quite a -company; by threes and fours they lick the opening of the gourd-like -vessel; and however high the Kermes is installed amidst the foliage of -the oak, they possess a most wonderful power of discovering it. When I -see one slowly climbing I have only to follow her with my eyes; she -takes me straight to the Ant’s tavern. She is my infallible guide when, -still in its early youth, the Kermes by its minuteness would escape the -glance of an eye not warned and on the alert. Even the very tiny -insects are perambulating taverns and are well frequented like the big -ones. - -On the tree, in the full liberty of the fields, the diligence of the -Ants, collecting the syrup as it oozes forth, will hardly permit us to -estimate the value of the spring. The little round barrel, incessantly -drained dry, shows barely a trace of moisture round the bung-hole. We -must take an isolated twig, far from thirsty drinkers, to determine the -true value of this flask of nectar. Then, in the absence of the Ants, -we see the liquor collecting with considerable rapidity in a drop of -surprising volume. The extravasated fluid exceeds the capacity of the -beaker, and the trickling continues, as evenly and abundantly as -before. The sugar-refinery is now in permanent business; when there is -no syrup left there is still plenty to come. - -The Ants rear the Plant-lice, their milch-cows. What herds they would -amass, what incalculable benefits they would derive therefrom, if the -Kermes could only be reared in captivity! But it is found only in -isolated groups, which, for that matter, are not numerous in -themselves, and it cannot be moved from spot to spot. Removed from its -position it dies, unable to take root elsewhere. The Ants exploit it -where they find it, without the slightest effort to gather together a -flock of Lice in a leafy chalet. Their ingenuity wisely draws back when -confronted by the impossible. - -What is the purpose of this nectar, so plentiful and so highly -appreciated by the connoisseur? Can it be that it flows forth for the -benefit of the Ants? After all, why not? In virtue of their number and -their activity as harvesters, they perform a function of far-reaching -significance in the general picnic of living creatures. As the price of -their services, they are granted the horn-shaped nectar of the -Plant-louse and the fountain of the Kermes. - -At the end of May let us break open the black capsule. Beneath the -envelope, hard and brittle, a hasty dissection shows us eggs: nothing -but eggs. We looked for the apparatus of a distiller of liqueurs, for -rows of retorts; we find only an obtrusive ovary. The Kermes is little -more than a coffer bursting with germs. - -The germs are white, and assembled to the number of thirty or -thereabouts, in little groups or clusters, which remind us, as regards -their arrangement, of the masses of seeds in the buttercup. Tufts of -extremely fine tracheal filaments encompass the glomeruli, surrounding -them with an inextricable litter which makes an exact count impossible. -A rough approximation gives us a hundred. The total of the eggs would -therefore be some thousands. - -What does the Kermes want with this prodigious number of offspring? An -alchemist of the general food supply, it does as do so many others -among the humble creatures predestined to the elaboration of nutritive -molecules: by means of excess numbers it seeks to avert the -extermination with which it is threatened. With its liquor it provides -the Ant, an importunate guest perhaps, but not a dangerous one, with a -delicious beverage; on the other hand, with its eggs it nourishes a -consumer who would lead to the extinction of the Kermes, were it not -itself subjected to a drastic thinning out. - -It has so happened that I have found the lover of omelettes at work. It -is a negligible little grub which creeps from one tiny cluster to -another, emptying his eggs still enclosed in their natal sheath. As a -usual thing it is alone; sometimes it has companions—two, three or -more. Ten, according to my notes, is the largest number recorded by its -holes of exit. - -How did it find its way into the strong-box, armoured on every side -with impenetrable horn? We may be sure that it was introduced while yet -a germ through the button-hole aperture whence oozes the syrup. A -mother must have chanced this way, who, discovering the orifice, took a -sip, and then, turning herself about, plunged her oviduct into the -opening. Here, without use of violence, the enemy entered the citadel. - -The enemy belongs to the tribe of Chalcidians, those zealous ransackers -of entrails. An extremely rapid worker, she acquires her adult form and -emerges from the shell in the early part of June. In comparison with -the offspring of the Kermes she is a giant, being no less than a -twelfth part of an inch in length. The narrow dormer-window by which -the germ was introduced being no longer able to give it passage, the -recluse, with his patient, steely tooth, opens a door of emergence for -himself through the wall of the shell, so that the latter is finally -pierced with as many round openings as there were fellow-feasters. When -they have departed the coffer is empty; there is no trace left of the -plentiful omelette. - -This ravager of ovaries is of a deep bluish-black colour; dark, concave -wings, closely pressed down after the fashion of the elytral apron, -giving it a vague look of the Beetle family. The head is flattened, -projecting beyond the corselet on either side; the powerful mandibles -are such as are needed to perforate the tough, leathery wall. The long -antennæ, incessantly vibrating, bent at an angle, slightly dilated at -the tip, are ornamented with a white ring. Dumpy and thickset, the tiny -creature runs swiftly along, polishing its wings and brushing its -antennæ; it is full of delight at having emptied the belly of a Kermes. -Has it a name in our scientific catalogue? I do not know, and am not -especially anxious to know. A label in barbarous Latin would afford the -reader no more information than would a few lines of history. - -June is nearly over. For some time the sugary oozing has ceased; the -Ants no longer come to their restaurant, a sign of profound alteration -within. The outer aspect, however, has undergone no modification. We -still have the small, black, glossy sphere, smooth and firmly fixed on -its base, which is whitened with wax. With the point of a pen-knife let -us break open the ebony casket, at the upper pole, at a point opposite -the point of adhesion. Its wall is quite as hard and brittle as the -wing-cover of a Scarabæus. Within, not a trace remains of the juicy -pulp: the contents consist of a dry meal, a mixture of red and white -specks. - -Let us collect this powder in a small glass tube; let us reinforce our -sight by a magnifying-glass, and examine it. The appearance of the -stuff is amazing. This dust is moving, these ashes are alive, and with -life so numerous that the very idea of computation becomes alarming. It -is the legion of the uncountable. In safeguarding a Louse fecundity -knows no limits. - -By their white hue we may distinguish those eggs that are not yet ripe -for hatching. Now, at the end of June, these are the less numerous. The -others, coloured by the tiny creatures within them, are bright red or -orange yellow. Preponderant over all is the collection of white specks, -the tattered husks of the eggs which have been hatched. - -Now these discarded husks are arranged in radiating clusters, just as -were the germs in the glomerulus of the ovary. This detail informs us -that there was no period of egg-laying; that is, not only were the eggs -not conveyed to a point external to the mother’s body, but they were -not even conveyed to any particular point of the enclosure bounded by -the carapace, by a common protecting roof. They were hatched on the -very site of their formation. The bunches of eggs, their arrangement -and position remaining unchanged, have become clusters of offspring. - -The Psyche has already provided an example of that singular genesis -which exempts the mother from the process of egg-laying, the family -being hatched out on the spot occupied by the eggs. Let us recall the -shapeless moth, whose appearance is even more miserable than that of -the caterpillar. She withdraws herself into the husk of her chrysalid, -and there she wastes away, swollen with eggs which will be hatched on -the spot. The mother Psyche becomes a lifeless bag whence emerges her -living family. This is likewise the case of the Kermes. - -I witness the process of birth. The new-born insects are struggling to -escape from their envelopes. Many of them succeed in doing so by -leaving the delicate husk of the egg where it is fastened, still -included in the radiating pattern. Others, no less numerous, drag their -sheath from its place and for a long time trail it after them, hanging -to their hinder parts. It adheres so firmly that the tiny creature is -able to cross the threshold of the shell with its moulted husk, -completing its liberation in the open air. Thus it is that we find on -the natal twig, at some distance from the maternal pill, numbers of -white discarded husks, which, if one had not closely followed the -progress of events, would give one reason to believe that the eggs were -hatched outside the Kermes. These filmy envelopes are deceptive; for -the whole family was hatched inside the coffer. - -Having collected the living dust with which it is now filled, let us -glance at the ebony box itself. The cavity is divided into two storeys -by a transverse partition, a fine-spun relic of the dessicated animal. -The individual substance of the Kermes was so little that it is now -represented by a delicate film. The rest of the mass enclosed by the -shell appertains to the ovaries. The upper storey is therefore occupied -by the newly born no less than the lower. - -It is easy to emerge from this latter compartment when the time of the -exodus has arrived; at its base is an ever-open door, a fissure shaped -like a button-hole. But how is it possible to escape from the upper -storey, separated from the other as it is by a partition? The -newly-hatched young are so feeble, so tiny, that they would never be -able to break through the membrane. Let us look more closely. The -partition is pierced in the centre by a round manhole! The inhabitants -of the lower storey can make immediate use of the door of their -dwelling-house, the button-hole exit; those of the upper storey can -reach it by means of the hole in the floor. Magnificent foresight on -the part of the mechanism of the dessication! The mother Kermes, of -whom no more is left than an unsubstantial ceiling, contrives in her -substance a trap-door without which half her family would die -imprisoned. - -Owing to its minute proportions, the tiny insect all but escapes the -unaided eye. A good magnifying-glass shows it as a tiny Louse, shaped -like an egg, the large end of the egg to the fore, and in colour a -delicate reddish brown. It has six very active legs. Its motionless -future, its lifeless maturity, are prefaced by a quick, toddling walk. -The long antennæ are in constant vibration; on the hinder part of the -body are two long, diaphanous cirri, which will escape remark unless we -look for them with sustained attention. There are two black eye-spots. - -In the small glass test-tube in which I am observing it, the tiny -creature appears to be extremely busy. It strays hither and thither, -the antennæ outspread and waving to and fro; it climbs, descends, and -climbs again, wandering this way and that, colliding as it goes with -the torn skins of the hatched eggs. It is making ready for departure, -that is evident. This mere speck of life is about to adventure into the -wide world. What does it want? Apparently a sprig of its food plant. I -have had an eye to its requirements. - -In the orchard is an evergreen oak, one single specimen, a small but -sturdy tree some ten to twelve feet in height. About the middle of -June, when the young are beginning to appear, I place there some thirty -Kermes, still adhering to their supporting twig. - -In spite of all my pains, it will be no easy matter to follow the -peregrinations of the Kermes’ family, should it disperse itself over -the tree, as I suppose it will. The traveller is too small and the -country to be explored too vast. Moreover, to examine the tips of all -the boughs with the magnifying-glass, leaf by leaf, twig by twig, is -impracticable; no one’s patience would suffice to the task. - -A few days later I inspect those that are within my range. Many -migrations have taken place, as is proved by the white filmy skins left -by the roadside. As for the young, I cannot see them anywhere, neither -on the bark of the twigs, nor on the leaves. Is it possible that they -have all attained the inaccessible tips of the boughs? Or can they have -gone elsewhere? This is the first problem to be solved, and it must be -solved under such conditions that the emigrants cannot escape my gaze. - -I transplant some young evergreen oaks ten to twenty inches in height, -into flowerpots filled with leaf-mould. On the twigs of each young tree -I fix, with a little drop of gum, five or six Kermes, taking especial -care not to obstruct the door of emergence. This miniature artificial -coppice is placed where it is sheltered from the fiercest heat of the -sun, in my study, facing one of the windows. - -On the 2nd of July I witness a migration. At the hottest time of the -day, about two o’clock, the new-born Lice leave their fortress in an -innumerable swarm. The young Kermes emerge hastily from the door of -their dwelling, the button-hole-shaped cleft; many of them dragging -behind them the discarded husk of the egg. For a moment they stand -motionless on the domed roof of their spherical house; then they -scatter over the neighbouring twigs. Several of them climb upwards and -reach the summit of the plant, without appearing to gain much -satisfaction from their ascent; some of them climb downwards along -their twig, so that I cannot possibly guess what objective the swarm is -seeking. It may be that we are witnessing a brief period of disorder, -due to the joy of the first few steps in a world of unrestricted -freedom; the tiny creatures may be wandering at random, abandoned to -the delights of emancipation. Let them do as they will; they will soon -quiet down. - -On the following day, indeed, I can no longer see a single Louse on the -tree; all have found their way downwards to the black leaf-mould in the -flowerpot, not far from the main stem. This mould, recently watered, is -rich in the savours of foliage which has rotted and fallen into dust. -There, on a surface barely larger than one’s fingernail, the little -creatures have gathered into a closely packed flock. Not one of them -moves, so well satisfied do they seem with their pasture, or rather -their watering-place. As far as I can see they are feeding, motionless -in their well-being. - -I do what I can to increase their felicity. To keep the place cool and -to provide a little shadow I cover it with a few dead leaves from the -evergreen oak, previously moistened in a glass of water. And now, -little Lice, you must proceed after your own fashion; I have done for -you all that I can! - -I have just learned of one essential point of your history, one detail, -without which all the rest of my investigations must inevitably have -come to naught. My first conjectures, although perfectly reasonable, -were unfounded. Instead of settling down on some twig, as their mother -did before them, the young Lice descend to the ground at the foot of -their natal tree. There, in the midst of the mosses and dead leaves, -they find a shelter offering some degree of coolness, which will -nourish them with its exudations, at all events at the outset. - -And what do they live upon later?—I am not in a position to say. For -five or six days I find them on the same spot, a motionless flock. Not -one of them leaves the flock, not one of them descends underground. -Then their numbers begin to diminish; little by little they all -disappear, evaporating as it were, returning to that nothingness from -which they were so little removed. The flock of atomies has left not a -trace. - -Apparently the flowerpot with its evergreen oak did not sufficiently -fulfil the conditions of prosperity. There should have been also some -grasses with underground rootstocks: in short, a jungle of herbaceous -vegetation, rich in superficial root-fibres in which the young Kermes -would have implanted their suckers. Is this the trouble? - -I continue my investigations in the open country, at the foot of some -evergreen oaks which, I noted, were thickly populated in May. The -families of Lice are certainly there, within a fairly small radius, for -the puny little creatures are incapable of a lengthy journey. I inspect -the varied vegetation covering the ground beneath the trees; I dig, -uproot, and patiently, lens in hand, examine one by one the roots and -stems grubbed up. Repeatedly resumed, in winter as well as in autumn, -my laborious investigations are fruitless; the tiny Louse cannot be -found. - -The following year, on the return of spring, I was to learn that the -presence of vegetation at the foot of the tree is not a necessity. Let -us go back to the evergreen oak in the orchard. I peopled its foliage -with some thirty Kermes which had reached maturity. There emerged from -it, caravan by caravan, a multitude of Lice. Now, at the foot of this -tree and all around it, for a distance of some yards, the soil is -perfectly bare. Not a blade of grass, not a weed of any sort, has -sprouted on this surface, so recently excavated by the spade. As for -the roots of the oak itself, it is, as far as I can judge, useless to -take them into account; for they lie at depths which the tiny Louse -could never attain. - -Yet in May the tree, hitherto exempt from Kermes, is covered with black -pills. My sowing has prospered; the young Lice which emerged from the -shells have passed the winter underground, and on the advent of warm -weather have returned to the tree, there to transform themselves into -globules. What did they live on in this ungrateful soil, which contains -not a single root-fibre? Probably on nothing at all. - -They descend to earth in search of shelter rather than refreshment. -Their refuge against the inclemencies of winter is precarious indeed, -if it consists, as everything seems to declare, in a few cracks in some -lump of earth, not far from the surface. In a hard winter, how many of -these ill-protected creatures must disappear? To the ravages of the -devourers of new-laid eggs we must add the more dreadful depredations -of winter; and thus it is that in order to preserve one life the Kermes -gives birth to thousands upon thousands. - -The remainder of its story is not easily discovered. It is now the -beginning of April. My three children, the joy of my declining years, -lend me the keen sight of youth. Without their assistance I should -abandon all thought of the chase, which I now propose to pursue on the -confines of invisibility. The previous year certain thickets of -evergreen oak, well within the reach of the observer, were marked down -as being thickly peopled by the Kermes. At that time I marked every -populated twig with a white thread. - -It is here that my little collaborators patiently pursue their -investigations, leaf by leaf, and twig by twig. After a brief glimpse -through my lens the harvest is placed in a botanist’s specimen box; a -more scrupulous examination will be made in my study, with all the -conveniences which the observer may require. - -On the seventh of April, just as I am beginning to despair of my -investigations, the tiny insect crosses the field of my pocket -microscope. This is she, actually this is she! Just as I saw her last -year emerging from her natal shell, so once more I behold her now. No -change whatever is visible: neither of aspect, nor shape, nor -colouration, nor size. She goes bustling along as though busy in the -extreme, searching doubtless for a spot to her liking. At every moment -the smallest wrinkle in the bark conceals her from sight. I place the -twig that bears the precious atomy under a bell-glass. On the following -day I expect a moult. The bustling little insect is replaced by a -motionless corpuscle. This is the first stage of the globular Kermes. -Fortune has only once vouchsafed me such a “find,” which would have -been examined in greater detail had I possessed a sufficient number of -subjects. My inspection of the evergreen oaks was somewhat in arrears; -I ought to have made it in March. At this period, I imagine, I should -have caught the insect emerging from the soil and returning to the -foliage of its oak-tree, in order there to undergo transformation. -Instead of one single subject I should have had many, though even then -I could not have counted upon a numerous collection, for the hardships -of winter have certainly thinned out those families, which were in the -beginning so numerous. They descended from the tree in their hundreds -of thousands; they climb it again in scanty groups, as is attested by -the scarcity of the black globules in the warm weather. - -As for what becomes of the climbers, my single specimen tells us -plainly enough. It has become a spherical speck, the indubitable sign -of the future Kermes. In a few days’ time it has dried up, despite the -glass of water into which the base of the twig was immersed. -Fortunately I have a few other similar corpuscles, a little more -developed. My gleanings give me two kinds of corpuscle. - -The more numerous are spherical in shape, their size varying according -to their age. The smallest are rarely a millimetre [76] in diameter. -The ventral surface is flat, and surrounded by a snowy cushion, the -rough foundation of the waxy base. The dorsal surface is rounded, and -in colour of a rusty red or pale chestnut with delicate white tufts -distributed without any orderly arrangement. In this costume the young -Kermes reminds us of a certain shell found in tropical seas: the -striped or tiger cowry. The sugar refinery is already at work. At the -back of the shell a limpid drop is gathering, to which the Ants repair -in order to quench their thirst. In a few weeks’ time the colour has -changed to an ebony black, the sphere has attained the size of a pea -and the Kermes has reached its final state. - -The minority stretch themselves out in the likeness of a tiny -half-contracted slug. The ventral surface is flat and its whole area is -closely applied to the twig. The dorsal surface is convex, and its -colour a more or less vivid amber yellow. It is sprinkled with -protuberant specks of a snowy white, arranged in longitudinal rows to -the number of five or seven. With its amber yellow colouration and its -ornamentation of white specks, the tiny creature has something of the -look of a certain kind of pastry which is sprinkled with spots of white -sugar. There is no oozing of a syrupy liquid to the rear of the insect, -so that the Ants do not visit it. - -I have conjectured that this second form is the larval state of the -males. From this, I imagine, will emerge winged insects ready for -mating. To verify this guess of mine is impossible. My slug-like -specimens die on their withering twig, and to follow their development -beyond the walls of my study would be an undertaking too great for my -patience. - -Of this very incomplete history of the Kermes of the oak-tree, one -point especially should be remembered. The mother, an enormous ovary, -exempt from the labours of egg-laying, contracts into a strong-box in -which the family is hatched without the removal of the eggs. Within -this shrivelled relic the family swarms in its thousands until the -moment of exodus. Simplifying to the very extreme the usual method of -procreation, the insect turns into a boxful of young. - - - FINIS - - - - - - - - -NOTES - - -[1] Thursday is a whole holiday in the French schools. At this time the -author was a schoolmaster at Avignon. Cf. The Life of the Fly, by J. -Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps. xix and -xx.—Translator’s Note. - -[2] Scolopendra cingulata, the centipede.—Translator’s Note. - -[3] Cf. The Life of the Spider, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: passim.—Translator’s Note. - -[4] More recent opinion conceives the comb or picten as originally the -respiratory organ of an aquatic ancestor of Scorpio, now probably -serving as a guide or clasper when pairing.—“B. W.” - -[5] For the Narbonne Lycosa, or Black-bellied Tarantula, cf. The Life -of the Spider: chaps. i and iii to vi.—Translator’s Note. - -[6] The enclosed paddock, or piece of waste land, in which the author -used to study his insects in their natural state. Cf. The Life of the -Fly: chap. i.—Translator’s Note. - -[7] Or Large White Butterfly. Cf. The Life of the Caterpillar, by J. -Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. -xiv.—Translator’s Note. - -[8] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chaps. xv and xvi.—Translator’s -Note. - -[9] Pill-Millipedes.—Translator’s Note. - -[10] Worm-like Millipedes.—Translator’s Note. - -[11] Cf. The Glow-worm and Other Beetles, by J. Henri Fabre, translated -by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos. Chaps. xv and xvi.—Translator’s Note. - -[12] Tiger-Beetles.—Translator’s Note. - -[13] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chaps. vi to ix and in particular -chap. vii.—Translator’s Note. - -[14] Cf. The Life of the Spider: chap vi.—Translator’s Note. - -[15] Cf. idem: chap. xvi.—Translator’s Note. - -[16] Or Garden Spiders. Cf. The Life of the Spider: chaps. ix to xiv. -and appendix.—Translator’s Note. - -[17] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps. vi to ix.—Translator’s Note. - -[18] Cf. The Life of the Spider: chap. xvi.—Translator’s Note. - -[19] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chap. xviii.—Translator’s Note. - -[20] Cf. idem: chap. vii.—Translator’s Note. - -[21] Cf. More Hunting Wasps, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander -Teixeira de Mattos: chap. viii.—Translator’s Note. - -[22] The Mantes are the only insects that can turn their heads to right -or left. Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chap. vi.—Translator’s Note. - -[23] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chaps. xviii and -xix.—Translator’s Note. - -[24] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chap. xviii.—Translator’s Note. - -[25] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chaps. xiii and xiv.—Translator’s -Note. - -[26] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chaps. xi to xiii.—Translator’s -Note. - -[27] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chaps. i to v.—Translator’s Note. - -[28] Oryctes Nasicornis, the Rhinoceros Beetle.—Translator’s Note. - -[29] The Glow-worm and Other Beetles: chap. vii.—Translator’s Note. - -[30] The Scarabæi include the Sacred Beetle, the Copris and other -Dung-beetles. Cf. The Sacred Beetle and Others, by J. Henri Fabre, -translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps. i to x.—Translator’s -Note. - -[31] Or Gold Beetle. Cf. More Beetles, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chaps. xiii and xi.—Translator’s Note. - -[32] Or Rose-chafer. Cf. idem: chap. i.—Translator’s Note. - -[33] Cf. idem: chap. ix.—Translator’s Note. - -[34] Cf. The Sacred Beetle and Others: chaps. xii to xiv.—Translator’s -Note. - -[35] Cf. More Beetles: chap. i.—Translator’s Note. - -[36] Cf. idem: chaps. xiii and xiv.—Translator’s Note. - -[37] Cf. The Life of the Caterpillar: chaps. i to vi.—Translator’s -Note. - -[38] The grub of the Cockchafer.—Translator’s Note. - -[39] This is Z. Æsculi, also known as the Wood Leopard -Moth.—Translator’s Note. - -[40] The Diptera are the order of insects comprising the Flies, -Mosquitoes, Gnats and Fleas.—Translator’s Note. - -[41] The Hymenoptera are the order including the Bees, Wasps, Ants, -Ichneumon-flies, Sawflies, Gall-flies, etc.—Translator’s Note. - -[42] The order comprising the Grasshoppers, Locusts, Crickets, -Cockroaches, Mantes and Earwigs.—Translator’s Note. - -[43] Cf. The Life of the Caterpillar: chap. xi.—Translator’s Note. - -[44] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chap. xvi.—Translator’s Note. - -[45] Cf. idem: chap. vii.—Translator’s Note. - -[46] Louis Pasteur (1822–1895), the famous French chemist and -bacteriologist.—Translator’s Note. - -[47] Léon Dufour (1780–1865) was an army-surgeon who served with -distinction in several campaigns and subsequently practised as a Doctor -in the Landes. He attained great eminence as a naturalist. Cf. The Life -of the Spider: chap. i.—Translator’s Note. - -[48] .35 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[49] .15 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[50] .351 increased to .546 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[51] .156 increased to .235 or .275 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[52] Cf. The Glow-worm and Other Beetles: chaps. xviii. and -xix.—Translator’s Note. - -[53] For the Nut-weevil, cf. The Life of the Weevil, by J. Henri Fabre, -translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. vi; also his Social -Life in the Insect World, translated by Bernard Miall.—Translator’s -Note. - -[54] Baron Karl de Geer (1720–1778), author of Mémoires pour servir à -l’histoire des insectes.—Translator’s Note. - -[55] René Antoine Ferchault de Réaumur (1683–1757), author of Mémoires -pour servir à l’histoire naturelle des insectes and inventor of the -Réaumur thermometer-scale.—Translator’s Note. - -[56] Or Burying-beetle. Cf. The Glow-worm and Other Beetles: chaps. xi -and xii.—Translator’s Note. - -[57] For the Bluebottle cf. The Life of the Fly: chaps. xiv to -xvi.—Translator’s Note. - -[58] Cf. More Beetles: chap. i.—Translator’s Note. - -[59] Cf. The Life of the Grasshopper: chap. xiii.—Translator’s Note. - -[60] Golden Apple-beetles, or Leaf-beetles. Cf. The Mason-Wasps, by J. -Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. -viii.—Translator’s Note. - -[61] Bacon-beetles. Cf. More Beetles: chap. ii.—Translator’s Note. - -[62] 1⁄25 inch.—Translators Note. - -[63] Carolus Linnæus (Karl von Linné: 1707–1778), the Swedish botanist -and naturalist, author of Systema naturæ, etc.—Translator’s Note. - -[64] 1⁄25 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[65] A little more than ¾ inch.—B.M. - -[66] The Abbé Charles François Lhomond (1727–1794), a famous French -grammarian and classicist.—Translator’s Note. - -[67] Not quite ¾ inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[68] 2.18 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[69] 10 cubic inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[70] Sir William Herschel (1738–1822), the Hanoverian-English -astronomer, invented the principle of “gauging” the skies which was -subsequently applied to the Milky Way by his son, Sir John Frederick -William Herschel (1792–1871).—Translator’s Note. - -[71] 1⁄25 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[72] Cf. The Life of the Spider: chap. xvi.—Translator’s Note. - -[73] Cf. The Life of the Spider: chap. xv.—Translator’s Note. - -[74] Man is like the medlar: he is worth nothing - Unless he has ripened long in the granary, on the straw. - -[75] Kermes in French, the word is pronounced Kurmees in English. The -dried bodies of the female insect were long supposed to be galls or -berries: they were even known to trade as “kermes berries,” and were -sometimes used in medicine. It is allied to the cochineal insect, -although the female of the latter is very obviously an insect, browsing -on the juice of certain cactuses. The kermes is found on several kinds -of oak, but principally on the kermes oak, a dwarf evergreen, Q. -Coccifera.—Translator’s Note. - -[76] Approximately .04 in. or 1⁄25 in. - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF THE SCORPION *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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